Krista Thoren - High-Society Bachelor

But Cameron Lyle wouldn’t know anything about that. And if he did, the idea of putting people at ease probably wouldn’t be a selling point.

Deborah pointed to the couch. “Have a seat. Are you allergic to cats?”

He raised one dark brow. Now that he did well. It was obvious that he disapproved of not only her music, but practically everything else about her, too. She’d gotten a lot of brow action from him over the past three months. He had strong, very masculine brows to go with a strong, very masculine face. And his jaw was way more aggressive than any jaw she would consider going out with.

Deborah grimaced. She didn’t want to guess where that thought had come from. It wasn’t as if she even liked the man, for heaven’s sake. He was the only person she knew who consistently challenged her natural optimism and good humor.

Still, he had to have a good side to him somewhere. After all, he attracted an amazing number of women. How many times had she gone downstairs to chat with his assistant, Barb, and found some glamorous woman waiting for him?

“No,” said Cameron finally, settling himself onto her couch.

Deborah sat down in the armchair opposite the sofa and tried to remember what he was saying no about. “Cat hair,” she explained after a moment. “Cat dander, to be more accurate. Libby sheds, and the hair doesn’t always vacuum up completely. So it’s a good thing you’re not allergic. Now, let me tell you how this boyfriend-girlfriend thing came about.” She took a long, steadying breath. “Actually, I never used the word boyfriend to Marilyn. I just said I’d been seeing someone, and she asked who, and I said you.”

“I see.”

What that meant, and what exactly he saw, was a mystery to Deborah. His face gave nothing away. But based on all her other encounters with Cameron Lyle, disapproval had to figure in there somewhere.

“Strictly speaking, I do see you from time to time,” she pointed out, trying not to sound as defensive as she felt. “But of course Marilyn drew her own conclusions.” Which I did nothing to correct.

She wanted to clear her throat, but that would make her sound as nervous as she was. Instead she traced a pattern on the arm of her chair. So much for telling herself that Cameron would never find out about her little misrepresentation, and that even if he did, he dated so many women he wouldn’t notice one more in the crowd.

Wrong on both counts.

Deborah stifled a sigh. It would be nice if he would stop looking at her as if she were a zoo exhibit. His gaze was too intense. It made her feel completely off-balance. Plus, using the word “boyfriend” in connection with the man seated opposite her went beyond weird. Not only were they an unlikely pair, but there was nothing boyish about him. He was all lean muscle and hard edges.

In short, all man.

Which, of course, she had noticed even when she had been engaged to Marilyn’s son, Mark.

His gaze held steady on her face. “I’ll admit I’m curious as to why you didn’t use your fiancé if you needed to claim a boyfriend. I’d have thought he would be the ultimate in convenience.”

Deborah blinked. Aside from those two sentences being the longest ones he’d ever sent in her direction, he was apparently the only person in this little corner of Indianapolis who hadn’t heard the news.

The interest her broken engagement had generated in Tulip Tree Square had taken Deborah totally by surprise, but as her friend Ann had pointed out, their small community of shop owners was closely knit, and people had to talk about something. If they didn’t care about sports, then love lives were a decent alternative.

Tulip Tree Square needed more sports fans.

“I don’t have a fiancé,” Deborah said.

His brows shot up, but not in a supercilious way this time. He looked genuinely surprised. In his eyes she saw a quick flash of something else, too, something undefinable, before his gaze dropped to her left hand. For the first time since her breakup, Deborah was acutely conscious of her bare ring finger.

“No fiancé,” he murmured.

“Right. Not anymore. Mark broke it off a month ago. And his mother was so concerned about me that I had to say something to reassure her. We had lunch together, except she wasn’t eating any of hers, and she badly needs to get her strength back after her surgery—”

Deborah stopped. She simply had to control herself. She had to ignore his intense eyes and her own embarrassment and remember that this man didn’t care two hoots about Marilyn not eating any of her roast beef au jus sandwich. Or that she’d been like an extra mother to Deborah for years. There wasn’t much Deborah wouldn’t do for Marilyn. A little white lie hadn’t seemed too terrible if it brought her peace of mind.

“His mother. I suppose that would be Marilyn Snyder,” observed the lofty Mr. Lyle.

“Right.” Her own mother’s best friend. Now that her mom had remarried and moved to Florida, it was up to Deborah to keep an affectionate eye on Marilyn during her convalescence. “You know her, obviously,” Deborah added.

“Only slightly. Committee work.”

She nodded. “Well anyway, Marilyn had an emergency appendectomy a few weeks ago. Unfortunately, her appendix exploded on the operating table, and the infection got really nasty.”

He winced. “I see.” He looked like he wished he didn’t. “I had no idea she had a son. She didn’t mention him to me at all during our conversation.”

Deborah lifted one shoulder. “Well, since she thinks you’re my new boyfriend—which, as I’ll repeat, is not what I told her—she probably decided against mentioning an ex-fiancé. Besides, Marilyn hasn’t been too thrilled with Mark lately.”

That was an understatement. When Mark had broken off their engagement, his mother had been crushed. Deborah’s mother hadn’t turned any handsprings, either, because she and Marilyn had decided years ago that Deborah and Mark would make a perfect couple. The two mothers had been a lot more upset about the breakup than Deborah had been. Which, in the end, had told them all a lot.

She and Mark were both lucky to have escaped marriage. After all, Mark couldn’t even decide which graduate degree to go for. He was obviously not ready to commit to any woman. And in the days following their breakup, Deborah had realized he wasn’t the man for her.

All things considered, the two of them were lucky their mothers had given up gracefully.

But there was no point in going into details. Even if Cameron Lyle were interested, which he wouldn’t be, it was none of his business.

“Marilyn’s clearly a big fan of yours,” he said. “Wanted to let me know how happy she is that you’re having some fun these days.”

Deborah stifled a groan. Marilyn, sweetheart that she was, had said those very words to Deborah, but somehow, coming from beautifully chiseled masculine lips, they sounded a lot less innocent.

“So tell me,” he said. “Exactly what kind of fun are we having?”

She stared at the strong curve of his mouth. It tilted up a smidgen at the corners. Not a smile, but it wasn’t a frown, either, so apparently he wasn’t mad at her. He sounded curious, more than anything else. Curious and intrigued. Deborah met his interested stare and felt her pulse pick up speed.

“Well?” he prompted. “Are we talking generic, G-rated fun, here? Or a more interesting kind of fun?”

All sorts of images popped into her head, and not a single one was G-rated. Her face felt hot. “I don’t think I specified,” she muttered.

“I see.” He watched her. “She also wanted to make sure I appreciated you.”

Oh, boy. What in the world had he said to that? Maybe nothing. Hopefully nothing. After all, this was not a man who chatted.