Tara Pammi - Scandalous Sins - Unwrapping His Convenient Fiancée / The Sheikh's Pregnant Prisoner / Snowbound with His Innocent Temptation

It wasn’t an invitation—it was a command. One Violet would have ignored but for the forty million pounds that were hanging in the balance.

And because she didn’t want Sophia to think she was one bit intimidated by her. It was how mean girls worked. They manipulated and caused trouble, striking mischief-making matches and standing back to watch the explosion like Lorna had done outside the office.

But there was another reason Violet walked into that nightclub on Cam’s arm. She had never danced with anyone. Not since that party. She hated the crush of bodies. The threat of strangers touching her, even by accident as they jostled on the dance floor, had always been too threatening.

But if she danced with Cam it would prove she was moving on. Taking back the control she had lost. She had never danced with him, not even at one of her family’s famous ceilidhs. He had always refrained from joining into the fun, citing the fact that he had no coordination or wasn’t a true Scot and there was no way he was ever wearing a skirt. But this would be the perfect opportunity to get him on the dance floor. A legitimate excuse to be in his arms. Where she felt safe.

But Violet hadn’t factored in the music. It wasn’t the swaying-in-your-partner’s arms sort. It was loud, an auditory assault that made conversation other than sign language virtually impossible. The nightclub dance floor was cramped with sweaty, gyrating bodies. It was exactly the sort of place she normally avoided. There wasn’t room to swing a cat, let alone a dance partner.

But Sophia and Nick seemed to be enjoying every eardrum-splitting moment. They were jigging about, weaving their way through the knot of dancers as if they did it every day of the week. They waved to Cam and Violet on their way past, shouting over the music, ‘Come and join us!’

Violet looked up at Cam, who looked like he was suffering from indigestion. She stepped up on tiptoe and cupped her hand around his ear. ‘Are you going to ask me to dance? Because, if so, let me spare you the embarrassment of being rejected.’

‘You call that dancing?’

A smile tugged at her mouth and she stepped up to his ear again. ‘You ever get the feeling you were born into the wrong century? Give me a traditional Gay Gordon dance any day.’

He drew her closer in a quick squeeze hug that made her breath hitch. ‘I feel about a hundred and fifty in here.’

‘Age or temperature?’

He gave a crooked smile and took out his handkerchief—why did classy men always have one?—and gently blotted the beads of perspiration that had gathered on her forehead. Violet couldn’t tear her eyes away from the deep steady focus of his. What was he thinking behind the screen of his gaze? His eyes dipped to her mouth, his lashes going to half-mast, giving him a sexily hooded look that made her belly quiver like someone bumping into an unset bowl of jelly. She moistened her mouth...not because it was dry but because she liked seeing him watch her do so. He moved closer, his thighs strong and muscular, so very male against her trembling legs. She felt the ridge of his arousal. It should have shocked her, would’ve shocked her, if it had been anyone else.

But it was Cam.

Who desired her even though he didn’t want to. It was a force they were both fighting...for different reasons. Violet didn’t want to waste time in a relationship going nowhere even if it was with the most desirable man she had ever met. Cam wasn’t interested in finding a life partner. He didn’t want to be tied down to family life. Understandable, given the atrocious example his parents had set. But Violet couldn’t help wondering if deep down he was less concerned about his loss of freedom and more concerned about not being the sort of husband and father he most aspired to be. He was a perfectionist. Doing a good job wasn’t enough for someone like Cam. If he put his mind and energy to something he did it brilliantly. That was why he was one of the most celebrated naval architects in the world.

‘Let’s go someplace else,’ Cam said against her ear.

Had he suggested leaving because he knew she was uncomfortable in that environment? Violet couldn’t help but be touched by his concern. ‘But what about Nick and—?’

‘They’ll survive without us.’ He took her hand and led her out of the nightclub. ‘I’ll send Nick a text to say we had to leave. He’ll think I want to whip you away somewhere private.’

Please do! Violet followed him out of the nightclub to the wet and cold street outside. Within a few minutes they were in the warm cocoon of his car. But instead of driving her back to her flat he turned in the direction of his house in Belgravia. She hadn’t been there before...although she’d walked past. Purely to satisfy her feminine interest, of course. During the drive he’d suggested a nightcap, which could have been code for something else but she took it at face value. Besides, going back to her flat, which would be empty now because both Amy and Stef had steady boyfriends and spent most weekends at their homes, was not the most exciting prospect.

Violet had to pretend to be surprised by the outside of the house when he pulled up in front of it. ‘Is this your place? Wow! It’s gorgeous. How long have you had it? It looks massive.’

‘I bought it a year or so ago.’ He led her up the black and white tiled pathway to the front door. ‘I’ve done most of the renovations myself.’

Violet knew he was good with his hands; she had the humming body to prove it. But she hadn’t realised he was a handyman of this sort of standard. The house was amazing. A showcase similar to those you would see in a home and lifestyle magazine. It was a three storey high Georgian mansion with beautiful features throughout. Crystal chandeliers tinkled above when Cam closed the door against the wintry breeze. The plush Persian carpet runner that led the way down the wide hallway threatened to swallow Violet’s feet whole. The antique furniture made her mouth water. Some girls loved fashion and jewellery but anything old and precious did it for her. There were priceless works of art on the walls in gilt-edged frames. Sculptures on marble stands, a white orchid in full bloom on another softening the overall effect.

Cam led her through to a sitting room with a fireplace with a stunning black marble surround with brass trim. Twin cream sofas, deep as a cloud, sat opposite each other with a mahogany coffee table in between. A Louis XV chair was featured in one corner next to a small cedar writing desk next to a full bookcase. It looked like the perfect room for curling up with a book...or cuddling up with the one you loved.

Stop it. You’re letting it go to your head.

Violet realised then with a little jolt that this was the first time they had been completely alone. At Drummond Brae there had always been members of her family about the place, if not in the same room. She had never truly been alone with Cam without the threat of interruption.

Violet turned from taking in all of the room to find him looking at her with an unreadable expression. The air seemed to tighten and then to crackle as if an invisible current was being transmitted through their gazes. She could feel her body responding to the magnetic presence of his. She was half a room away but it felt like a force was drawing her to him, a force she could not control even if she wanted to. ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ she asked, barely recognising the breathy voice as coming from her.

‘How am I looking at you?’

‘As if you don’t want me to know what you’re thinking.’

His mouth lifted in a wry smile that tugged on something deep inside her. ‘Believe me, you don’t want to know what I’m thinking.’

‘Try me.’ Did you just say that? Isn’t that flirting? That thing you never do?