Judy Christenberry - Guarding Camille

“It won’t hurt it.” He didn’t mention the fake mustache in his pocket or the cowboy hat on the breakfast table.

He draped the jacket over the sofa and held out the dress shirt he’d bought the day before, along with the rest of the disguise. “Slip your arm in.”

With a sigh, she turned her back to him even as she stepped closer to slide her left arm in first. It was almost as if she were in his embrace. He drew a deep breath and was assailed by her delicate, provocative perfume. With her bare neck so close, he had to fight the urge to trace its graceful lines with his lips. Damn!

“I’m afraid I’ll mess up my nails,” Camille complained as she turned to face him.

He’d been relieved that the white shirt covered her alluring décolletage. Then he realized what her words meant. “You mean…you want me to button it?”

“If you don’t mind.”

Mind? He couldn’t find the words to explain the problem, because he’d have to admit what touching her did to him. With his mouth feeling as if it were stuffed with cotton, he growled and reached for the first button under her chin. Not too bad, he assured himself as his hands slid to the next button. But the third button—that was the test. His knuckles skimmed the warm, soft mounds of flesh above her low neckline, and he suddenly couldn’t breathe.

Camille jerked back, obviously uncomfortable with his touch, too. “I—I think my nails are dry enough now.”

He nodded, still unable to speak. His gaze was fastened on her slender fingers, the nails painted a delicate pink, as she buttoned the shirt.

He was relieved when the process was complete, and handed the tie to her.

She stared at him blankly. “I don’t know how to do one of these.”

“Do? You mean tie it?”

“Yes, that’s what I mean.”

He stood there, breathing deeply, trying to think. But in the end, he knew what he had to do. He slid his hands to her neck and turned up her collar, then slid the tie in place, its ends lying on her chest.

Clearing his throat, he ordered, “Turn the collar back down.” After she’d done that, he said, “Take the ends of the tie and—” He didn’t know how to tell her. Finally, he led her to the hall mirror. Standing behind her, keeping his elbows as far from her body as he could, he reached around her and gingerly picked up the ends of the tie.

Moving as quickly as he could, he tied the knot and slid it to her top button, all the time inhaling her delicate scent.

“There,” he said, glad the tough part was over.

“I don’t think this will fool anyone, Jake,” Camille insisted. “My hair and face—”

He held up a hand, stopping her in midsentence. “This will help,” he assured her, reaching into his pocket for the brown mustache, “and there’s a hat in the kitchen.”

Her hazel eyes widened, but she made no attempt to take the fake mustache. He swallowed several times before he stepped closer again. He peeled off the adhesive protector and pressed the mustache across Camille’s upper lip. Her soft upper lip. Her kissable lip. Hunger surged through him.

She sneezed. “It tickles,” she complained.

“That’s what a woman says when she kisses—” He stopped. He didn’t want to go there.

“Did you ever have a mustache?”

“Yeah, when I was younger and wanted to look older.” And more in control. More macho, able to face his father as a man. Able to determine his own future and not follow in the traditions already laid down by his family.

But instead of facing his father, Jake had stayed far away.

CAMILLE WASN’T SURE what she’d said that had distracted Jake, but he appeared to be worlds away.

“Jake?”

“Uh, yeah, here’s the jacket. You put it on and I’ll get the hat.” He hurried out of the room.

She took a deep breath and tried to relax. When he stared at her lips, only to check out the mustache, of course, she’d thought she might melt. All she could think about was him kissing her. How much she wanted him to kiss her. What kissing him would be like.

“Camille?” Jake said as he stepped into the room. “Is there something wrong with the jacket?”

Her cheeks burning with embarrassment, she scrambled into the jacket. “No, it’s fine,” she assured him. And it fit, sort of. A lot better than one of Jake’s would have. He was a big man.

He showed her a felt Stetson. “I chose beige so there wouldn’t be a sharp contrast between your hair and the hat.” Without waiting for her to take it, he put it on her head.

“My hair!” she exclaimed, reaching for the hat.

He caught her hands. “No, don’t take it off. You’ll have time to fix your hair when we get there. We’d better go.” He reached for Jamie’s carrier at the same time she did, his hands touching hers again. Jerking back, he said, “I’ll carry him. We don’t want to mess up your disguise.”

She surrendered her hold and stepped aside. “Okay. Will—will your mother—everyone else will be dressed up, won’t they?”

Jake stared at her. “Is that what you’ve been stewing about? Whether you’ll be dressed all right?”

“I haven’t been to a formal party in years, or maybe ever,” she confessed, avoiding his gaze. And she’d never been anywhere with a man who looked like Jake.

He shrugged. “Hang around here long enough and you will. Mom loves dressing up.”

He escorted her to the SUV and belted the baby carrier in the back seat.

Neither of them spoke until they reached Garrett’s house and Camille exclaimed, “Look, there’s Max. And Garrett. Are they going to ride with us?”

Jake slowed down. “Nope. They’re escorting us. Garrett will lead, and Max will bring up the rear. The only tricky part about the evening is getting you to and from Mom’s.”

“Oh. Has there been any sign of Vince?”

“No.”

“Maybe he’s given up. Maybe he doesn’t want me or Jamie anymore.”

Jake pressed his lips tightly together before he answered, a grim look on his face. “No. He hasn’t given up.”

His words depressed her, and she sank back against the seat, staring out the window at the passing pastureland.

WHEN THEY TURNED IN at the gate that protected his mother’s home, Camille spoke for the first time since they’d left Garrett’s ranch. “Oh, my heavens!”

Jake gave a wry smile. The house was imposing. When he’d brought friends home from college, they’d been overwhelmed by the magnificence of his home. His girlfriend, the one who broke his heart, had reveled in the luxury of the place and been eager to move in.

Once he realized his girlfriend was only interested in his family’s fortunes, he had decided he didn’t want to be associated with such obvious wealth. He didn’t want to be different from other people. He didn’t want friends who could be bought with money.

“I thought Garrett’s house was—impressive. But this… You actually lived here?” There was astonishment in Camille’s voice.

“Yeah.”

“Were you ever lonely?”

That unexpected question brought a rush of other memories. “Hell, no. There were seven of us kids, plus Mom and Dad and the staff they hired to take care of all of us. Both my parents were involved with the hospital, but they spent a lot of time with us,” he remembered, his lips curving in a smile. That smile felt good.

Once his world had fallen apart with Susie’s betrayal, he’d had some problems with his father. When he left home, he was determined to make it on his own.

And he had, but his childhood memories felt surprisingly good tonight.

Garrett stopped and got out in front of the house as a man in uniform hurried to park his car. He stepped back and waited for Jake’s vehicle. When it came to a stop, he opened the door for Camille.