Julian grinned at her and grabbed her hand. His manly grasp settled a warmth over Camille that she wasn’t used to. She followed him to the car and Sebastian opened the door. Julian laid his palm against the small of her back, guiding her inside.
He slid in beside her and loosened his tie. The citrus scent of his cologne intoxicated her. Feeling a bit overwhelmed, she smoothed her dress and rested her hands in her lap.
“Would you like a glass of champagne?”
Her first thought was to say no. Drinking on an empty stomach had never turned out well in the past. But a sip or two wouldn’t hurt, and it might help her lighten up. She wanted to enjoy the evening, not worry about what she was doing right or wrong.
But what could she do that would chase Julian away?
He wasn’t going to up and leave her. Not yet anyway. For the next six months she could count on Julian more than she’d ever been able to count on anybody else—except maybe Granny Mae.
“Maybe a touch,” she said of the champagne.
Julian grabbed a bottle, popped the top and poured the overflowing spirits into two glasses. He handed one to her and kept the other for himself.
She sipped the liquor, bubbles tickling her nose. She didn’t care much for the tart taste, but she supposed people put up with it for the buzz. Still, there had to be a better way. At least a better tasting way. Maybe a Pina Colada, a Daiquiri, or something made with melon liqueur. Yeah, that sounded good.
She might get one of those during dinner, but for now she’d go with what was on hand.
Julian downed his drink, and it didn’t go unnoticed by Camille. He turned to her, draping his arm along the back of the seat behind her. “If Papa or Madeleine get to be too much, just tell them to talk to me.”
He was beating around the bush about something, what she wasn’t sure. “Are you expecting them to get out of hand?” Her fingers stiffened around her glass.
“No, I don’t think so. But Papa has invited Madeleine to stay through the wedding.”
Camille shrugged to hide her confusion. “She must be a glutton for punishment.”
“I wondered about that myself.”
“Why would she want to attend a wedding in which she aspired to be the bride?”
“Papa is probably to blame.” Julian refilled his glass. “I think he’s probably put it in her head that she can somehow thwart the wedding.” He glanced at Camille with the champagne bottle in the air, as if waiting for her to request or decline more.
She did neither. “So, I should keep a sharp eye out?” Camille fidgeted, not liking the idea that Madeleine could smash her dreams beyond repair.
“Couldn’t hurt.” His fingertips caressed her hair back from her face. His touch was suddenly almost unbearable in its tenderness.
She drew her head back, facets of desire shuddering through her.
“Will I be catching the two of you in bed?” She laughed, mostly because she’d come to believe that Papa and Madeleine would be the main topic of all their conversations. It reiterated the fact that Julian de Laurent would never be interested in her. She was just a means to an end. A way out of real matrimony.
“If Madeleine has her way...I wouldn’t doubt it.” Julian’s laughter wrapped its cold tips around her heart.
But why wouldn’t Julian sleep with Madeleine. He’d already said he didn’t have anything against her. Just like most men, Julian probably wouldn’t mind sleeping with a girl he wasn’t interested in marrying.
And Julian and Camille? They were merely in a business arrangement. He had no real alignment to her, and thinking otherwise was crazy.
Prepare yourself, chickie. She heard her warning loud and clear. Julian had all but told Camille she’d be finding him in bed with his mistress.
But no matter. Camille was prepared to play the dutiful wife to the hilt. The payoff was worth it. And in the meantime, she was going to enjoy being the wife of one of the richest men in the world—for as long as it lasted.
“Have you decided where we’ll be eating?” she asked, trying to keep the mood light.
“Since you expressed an interest in the local cuisine, I thought we’d dine at L’Epuisette.”
I say eat; he says dine. The subtle differences in their vocabulary wrapped her in a straitjacket of unworthiness. Suddenly she felt unintelligent, uneducated, and undeserving, even though she’d graduated from Stanford University with honors.
“It sounds lovely.” Her words drifted off into a hushed whisper.
“You’ll enjoy it. I promise.” That chocolaty tone of Julian’s voice returned, sounding more enticing than ever. She was caught up in his enthusiasm.
“It has to be awesome,” she said with conviction. “You’ve never let me down yet.”
He studied her, like he was amazed—or maybe it was amused. “You keep that up and Papa will fall in love with you.” His statement, bold and brassy, skittered her pulse.
She felt her face burn, and she hoped the dim, almost nonexistent light hid her weakness.
The car rolled to a stop in front of a wood-planked building on the edge of the sea. The doorman stepped forward and opened the car door.
The warm night air breezed past and caressed her bare arms as Julian nudged her from the limousine. Tantalizing thoughts invaded her head. Julian grabbed her hand and she prayed he didn’t notice her shivering reaction.
“Are you cold?” he asked, draping his arm around her shoulders as they strolled toward the restaurant’s entrance.
“No.” She smiled, hoping to convey that she didn’t mind his touch. “Everything’s perfect.”
Julian rested his hand on the small of her back as they entered the restaurant’s lobby.
“Mr. de Laurent.” They were greeted with smiles and hellos and handshakes. “Your table is ready.”
They followed the maître’d through the restaurant. Tasteful wall hangings and pleated drapes divided the dining area into intimate sectors and the privacy they afforded more than made up for the establishment’s overcrowded popularity.
The dimly lit ambiance mesmerized Camille as they followed the maître’d up a short flight of stairs and out onto a private balcony, amply shrouded in shrubbery and foliage. They were led to a secluded table against a tall banister overlooking the sea. She guessed this was Julian’s regular table.
Camille sighed, happily relieved over the privacy. Pretending to be in love was going to take some adjusting. Easy for an actress, but not Camille.