She glanced down at the red fitted skirt and tailored jacket she’d snagged off the clearance rack at JC Penney, the best an intern at Disclosure Magazine could afford. Should she have worn something sexier?
Sexier? Who was she kidding? Sex appeal didn’t come easy to Camille, not like her friend Tasha. The most flattering comment Camille had ever received was that she had nice eyes. Not very gratifying when the same guy told Tasha, “God, you’re gorgeous.”
Julian de Laurent must have liked something about her because he’d said she was perfect for the part. If he’d changed his mind, she was screwed.
Just breathe. Her stomach churned with the misgivings of her well-intended but ill-conceived scheme. Maybe this was a mistake. She considered a turn-and-run tactic before someone answered the door.
Too late.
Soren, de Laurent’s shadow, appeared from behind the door. The two times she’d met with Julian, this guy was with him. It made her wonder.
“Ms. Chandler, what a pleasant surprise.” Soren’s stoic expression showered Camille with intimidation.
“I’d like to speak with Mr. de Laurent.” The words trembled up her throat, right along with the desperation.
“Please come in.” Soren stepped back, moving aside. “I’ll let Mr. de Laurent know you’re here. Please make yourself comfortable.” Heading toward a closed door on the other side of the room, he gestured about the suite’s living area decorated with plush couches and chairs and other opulent furnishings that probably cost more than her car.
I was comfortable until he waltzed into my life. She stormed to the nearest couch and plopped down. The sofa melded around her like a cloud. Damn. Of course he lived in luxury. God takes care of children and fools. Anybody who’d place an ad in the L.A. Trades looking for an actress to pretend to be his wife for six months had to be crazy.
Mr. Crazy—AKA, the extremely hot Julian de Laurent, as Tasha would call him—entered from an interior room. The suit he wore, custom-tailored and no doubt silk, clung to him and maneuvered with his athletic frame as he moved toward her with laid-back grace.
Although a bit on the arrogant side, he was all about making those around him as comfortable as possible. Julian’s attentiveness was sexy as hell. His assumption that he knew what was best for everyone was just as exasperating.
Camille shot up from the couch, tried to feign indifference and waited for his lead.
“Ms. Chandler. To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked in a low voice that sounded a lot like how chocolate tasted. Divine. “Have you changed your mind, perhaps?” His inquiry hadn’t come off as a question so much as an insinuation.
Was she that obvious? Did she have the words I’m desperate blinking above her in pink and green neon?
Camille shifted her shoulders and arched them back. She drew a breath that needed to contain both the confidence and the capability to get her through this nutty scheme. “I’ve been thinking about your...offer.”
“Really?” he said in a polite but patronizing voice. She had little time to think about his arrogance as he lured her back to the couch with a persuasive, cajoling gesture. “I took your rejection of my project proposal yesterday as your final word.”
Project proposal? God, he made it sound like a damned business venture. Something she had to convince herself of if she wanted to avoid failure. Failure wasn’t an option. Neither was stupidity.
“Let’s just say that given a little time, I was able to see some of the hidden benefits of your proposal.” Camille paused as a whiff of citrus and light spices danced through the air and played with her senses. The manly aroma, an effective calming agent, had her dreaming about cool refreshing breezes on warm summer evenings. “I’m willing to negotiate.” She pushed her anxiety and the temptation aside. “Unless you’ve come to an agreement with someone else.”
Julian’s arm stretched across the back of the couch behind Camille. He didn’t touch her, but she had a corporeal reaction to his nearness. It shivered through her like an arctic chill when he flashed his to-die-for smile.
“No. The position is yours if you want it.”
She sucked in a breath of relief and doused it with logic. “We have to set a few ground rules.”
“Such as?”
Like, you can’t change your mind once you meet Tasha. Letting him meet her bombshell friend was probably a mistake. Nix that idea.
Camille cast her insecurities and attraction to Julian aside in favor of a stereotypical cold and heartless business persona. Julian de Laurent could not find out about the recent change in her employment status, or that she had a slight ‘thing’ for him—which she fully intended to conquer. She had no intention of falling for him. Her mother had fallen for her father, and look how that turned out. The man deserted her long before Camille was born.
“I have some loans that need to be paid off before I leave the U.S.” She hoped her monotone voice came across as a shrewd negotiator, instead of a desperate fraud. “I don’t want to ruin my credit.” She added, hoping to downplay the loans’ significance.
“Done,” he said without asking how much.
That set Camille’s worry back in motion. Who would agree to such a thing without knowing the particulars?
“Our marriage must appear real.” The seriousness in his voice drew her focus back to him, just as his lips curled into a goading smirk. Camille couldn’t decide if she wanted to smack him or kiss him. “You and I will have to share a bedroom wherever we go.”
She nibbled at his baiting comment, trying not to let it get to her. “Wherever we go?”
“My family is very well known in Europe. The media lurks around every corner. You’ll have to be mindful of every move you make, including those in front of my family.” His aloofness siphoned the confidence from her soul, leaving her too spooked to do more than nod. Julian continued like he was relating a P&L statement. “Above all others, my family must believe the marriage is real.”
Was sex part of the bargain? Not that Camille found the thought of sleeping with him out of the question, but she wasn’t ready to start trading her favors for money either.
“You can’t buy me.” Defiance rumbled through her like a run-away train. “Not like that.”
“Chéri, if we make love, it will be your idea.” With a wink, he tilted closer and his devilish grin ignited the allure of temptation.