Yes. That’s all it was.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CAMILLE WAS SADDENED when their honeymoon cruise ended. She had to keep reminding herself that it wasn’t real, even if they had spent the last ten days having some incredible sex.
And, returning to Pacifique de Lumière under the cover of night felt like they were sneaking back in. But she refused to buy into those insecurities and fears. Instead, she let her mind wander to a place filled with possibilities as she followed Julian upstairs to their new suite, just a few doors down from Tasha’s room.
Next morning, she realized she’d taken too much for granted when Soren gave her the news.
Camille charged into Tasha’s room. Raw nerves bore down heavy in her gut at the sight of her only friend packing.
“You’re leaving?” Camille’s voice cracked. “Why are you leaving so soon? Did somebody do or say something to upset you?” Her fear of being abandoned gave way to suspicion. She wouldn’t be surprised to find that Maurice or Madeleine, or both, were responsible for Tasha’s decision to leave.
“When have you ever known me to shy away from a challenge?” Tasha said, as if that notion was the most ridiculous thing in the world. “It’s just time for me to go home.”
Camille didn’t say anything, lost in a moment of deep pessimism. Somewhere deep in her psyche she wondered if she could will Tasha into staying.
“This is your world now, but it’s not mine.” Her words cut through Camille like a sharp dagger.
Guess not.
“Mine’s in L.A. Where I need to find work soon, or I’m screwed.” She laughed as if it wasn’t that big a deal, but Camille saw the worry in her vivid green eyes.
Julian had given her a “spending account” with a generous endowment. If she was going to use it, why not splurge on something worthwhile. She grabbed Tasha’s hand and pulled her out the hallway and into her suite of rooms.
Tasha waited in the doorway, as if entering would have some ill-effected consequences. Camille grabbed her leather-bound checkbook from a desk drawer and used a nearby table to issue her first check. It ripped from the book with relative ease, and she waved it in the air at her friend.
“What’s this?” Tasha’s eyes danced anxiously.
“Just in case L.A.’s on a mean streak when you get back.”
Tasha slipped the check between her fingers and glanced at it, her eyes widening. “Wow. Ten grand.” She struggled with the silence for a moment and finally said, “I can’t take this.”
“Sure you can.”
“I doubt I’d ever be able to pay it back.” She shook her head. “I can’t take it.”
“It’s not a loan. It’s a gift. From one friend to another.”
Tasha shook her head again, her mouth tightening. She closed her eyes. “No. I don’t want to get you into trouble with Julian.” She paused, and slowly raised her gaze to meet Camille’s. “What’ll he say when he finds out you’re giving away money?”
“Julian gave me the money to do with as I please.” Camille shrugged. “I choose to give it to you.”
Tasha moaned and tapped her foot. “You let me know if he makes a fuss and I’ll send it right back,” she said, with a bit of reluctance. “Whatever I’ve spent, I’ll find a way to pay you back.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Camille said, taking her arm and leading her to the door. “He said I could spend it any way I wanted.”
“I’m so afraid I’m never going to see you again.” Tasha’s words were drenched in angst.
“Oh, you’ll see me again,” Camille blurted out without thinking. “I’ll make sure of it,” she added, trying to cover her blunder with a well-meant declaration.
“Well, I guess so,” she said, almost bitterly, following Camille into the hallway. “Your husband does have a fleet of private jets and he can take you anywhere you want to go.” Immediately, regret cast a shadow over Tasha’s face.
But Camille knew Tasha was feeling abandoned. She was losing her best friend to a husband half a world away. And Camille knew a thing or two about abandonment. There was no way to spin it to make the one left behind feel better.
“You know,” Camille said as they descended the stairs, “You can always ‘act’ in France.” She put it out there to see if Tasha would bite.
She didn’t. “Are you kidding?” she shrieked. “Like they want to see some American on their TV screen.”
“Jerry Lewis.”
“Huh?”
“Jerry Lewis,” Camille repeated. “He’s an American. And the French love him.”
“Everybody loves Jerry Lewis.” Tasha snorted and then her face sobered. “I’m no Jerry Lewis.”
She had a point.
They stopped at the entryway, and Julian came in through a door on the far side. His first move was to kiss Camille’s cheek. “Good morning, darling.”
“Ooh, darling...” Tasha’s voice bordered on dreamy. “The honeymoon must’ve gone really well.”
Camille smacked her.
Andre entered from a different doorway. Looking at Tasha with suitcases by her side, his smile faded. “Chéri...are you going somewhere?”
She sighed and got this poignant look on her face. “Andre, you have been a dear, really. But it’s time for me to go home.”
“Chéri,” Andre slammed his hand against his chest. “You break my heart.”
Julian took one look at Andre and another at Tasha. When his attention landed back on Andre, Julian’s face turned into a scowl. “Soren!” Julian bellowed his valet’s name.
Soren appeared from out of nowhere. “Yes, sir.”
“You will accompany Miss Gordon back to Los Angeles.”
“Me, sir?” Soren failed to hide the shock.
“I’ll accompany her,” Andre said.
“No.” Julian stared at his brother. “You have other business that needs your attention.” If looks could kill, Julian’s came with a loaded nine millimeter.
Andre paused, slipped Tasha’s hand in his and brushed his lips against it. “Chéri, I await your next visit.” He bowed. “Do not make me wait long.”
He gave her one of those looks that moved even Camille. It reminded her of Julian. Two heartthrobs in one family. The girls in France weren’t safe. Neither was Camille. Tasha was the fortunate one; she was leaving.