Ruining Mr. Perfect (The McCauley Brothers) Page 6

  Through the years spent attending functions with her, he’d suffered in silence, putting on a big smile. Beth would gently prod him about returning to school to get his degree. More work on top of the hellacious construction hours he put in daily. To make ends meet and support his family, he’d worked overtime, holidays, and taken on the odd project. All to make his beautiful wife happy. And for what? So that she could continually try to make him better? Into something he could never be, a grown-ass Cameron?

  She’d succeeded with that one. The boy had never liked his old man. James had tried. He’d teased and cajoled to toughen the boy, not wanting Cam to be bullied the way he’d been when younger. He’d included all his boys in family games and outings, finding common ground with Flynn and Brody, Mike, and even young Colin, the apple of his eye.

  But Cam remained distantly out of reach. Like his untouchable mother.

  Sex with Beth had never been a problem. Until she’d started holding back. The past few years she’d withdrawn, slowly. Until the last few months when they barely touched. A peck on the cheek, a graze of her hand against his. What the hell did a man have to do to get his wife naked nowadays?

  He sighed and felt his age creeping close all over again when an attractive young woman looked right past him as she headed toward the back. He grimaced at his coffee, at a loss.

  What was a man to do when he’d spent his life trying to make his wife love and respect him, only to find it all for nothing?

  ***

  Vanessa had dreaded Friday’s approach. Though Cam had said he’d be at the hotel on business, she didn’t like the thought he’d come for her, because then she’d owe him for the help. Better for both of them when—not if—they eventually came together, that they entered the playing field on equal footing. And then there was John to consider.

  He’d called once to confirm their meeting in the hotel’s dining room. Where candlelight and views of Elliot Bay set such a professional atmosphere. She snorted. Yeah, right.

  Dressed in a black business suit with an A-line skirt that hit her at the knee and a stylish jacket over an ivory silk blouse and smoky hose, she thought she gave the right impression. She wore her hair pulled back in a severe bun, her heels high but not hooker-high, and walked smartly into the dining room of the hotel. After giving her name to the maître d’, she clutched her leather briefcase and called on her inner strength to take charge of the meeting.

  The head waiter took her to the table where John already sat. John stood and waited until she sat before seating himself once more. To her annoyed dismay, she hadn’t passed Cameron or seen him in the dining area. Not that she needed him there. Not to do her job.

  She pasted on a smile. “Hello.”

  She had to admit John wore a suit well. He had intelligence and an appealing aesthetic, if one were into pretty boys. Vanessa had never been into surface attraction, which made her fascination with Cameron all the more perplexing. Yet underneath that handsome veneer, she knew he had actual substance.

  But as she scanned the room, she noted he hadn’t seen fit to keep his word. He was nowhere in sight.

  Ignoring her inner whine, she made small talk with John and got right down to business. After a lovely meal, a glass of wine, and the rudiments of what she could do for Bellemy Tech, she sat back to see him staring at her.

  When he continued to say nothing, she bluntly asked, “What?”

  He smiled. “Such charm, Vanessa.”

  She chuckled. “I’m sorry. We’ve eaten, we’ve signed contracts. I thought we had your business.”

  “Pending gross negligence, you’ll be fine.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  He grinned. “So what are your plans for the evening?”

  Talk about jumping in with both feet. “I was so busy concentrating on this meeting, after we conclude our business, I’m going home to get a good night’s rest.”

  “So I’ve been on your mind so much I’ve exhausted you? I’m flattered.”

  “Don’t be.” He appeared taken aback. “I meant that I give this kind of attention to all our clients. No one suffers for holidays or sick leave. We work weekends, holidays, whatever it takes to make the client happy.”

  He relaxed and toyed with the stem of his glass. “Whatever it takes?”

  Ugh. The sticky situation she’d known was coming. She wanted to be free to be herself and tell him point-blank, “No way in hell, Slick.” But this would be her first big client on her path to a partnership. Bill was counting on her.

  “Whatever it takes within reason, of course,” she smoothly added.

  “Let me be blunt, Vanessa.”

  Thank God. “Please do.”

  “I want you. You’re beautiful, smart, and I thought we had chemistry the last time we went out.” He paused. “Obviously something went wrong, because you never returned my calls.”

  “Not true. I messaged you back after that first text.”

  “You said Thank you for a nice night. Nothing else,” he said wryly.

  “Yes. Nothing else.”

  “Why?”

  Could the man be kidding? “Seriously?”

  “Yes. Why? I’ve got money, I’m handsome, and I’m good in bed.”

  She studied him, wondering if he could be that dense. “You talked about yourself all evening. You didn’t once ask me what I thought or felt about anything.” He’d asked for honesty. “I found you narcissistic.”

  “Oh?” He smirked at her and leaned closer. In a low voice, he answered, “I find you beautiful but cold. It intrigues me to think I might be able to thaw you out. As for why I never asked you anything, I don’t care. I didn’t ask for a date because I wanted to talk.”

  She sat in stunned silence while the waiter arrived to clear their plates. Once he left, she gathered her composure. “I’m really glad we never had more than one date, in that case. Imagine how awkward this dinner could have been,” she said drily. What an egotistical ass.

  “I’m just being honest. I thought you liked that?”

  “You know, I was impressed by your candor. Part of me still is, while the other part is grossly offended.”

  He huffed. “This isn’t because of that guy at the gym, is it? I know you’re single. I asked around.”

  “Whether I am or not is irrelevant.” She relied on her ability to detach herself from the situation and answered with cold logic. “The fact of the matter is we had one date and didn’t suit. Not money, appearance, or the size of a man’s cock is a factor in who I decide to fuck. Honest enough for you?”

  He nodded, his eyes wide.

  “We’re going to be working together. I’m not arrogant enough to assume you asked for my company’s services because you’re hard up for a woman. However, if this situation makes it awkward for us to do business, you’re of course free to opt out of the contract for our agreed fee and go elsewhere for assistance. Or you could assign someone else as your liaison when dealing with me. It’s up to you.”

  He shook his head and smiled. “You really are one cold bitch, aren’t you?”

  She blinked. “Do you really want to ruin your company because you managed to mess with the wrong woman? I don’t mix business and pleasure. Ever. We don’t do that at McNulty, Peterman. Which is one of the reasons why we’re the number one firm in the city.”

  He stared at her in silence, and she wondered if he could hear her heart racing as she did her best to appear calm and not at all frazzled by the fuckhead she wanted to kick really, really hard.

  “This has been educational.” His lips twisted in a half smile.

  Educational. The story of her cold, emotionally unfulfilling life. “I’m glad.”

  He laughed. “You’re something else, Vanessa Campbell. If you ever change your mind…”

  “I won’t.”

  “Even if I were to think about
pulling my business and taking my assets elsewhere?”

  “Do what you need to. I won’t change my mind.”

  He sighed. “Fine. I think it best for all involved if you deal with my assistant Henry from now on. But I want you to know there’s no one I’d rather have working for us than your company, and you specifically. I trust you, and I can see why your references are so amazing.” He stood, and she stood as well. She was more than ready to leave.

  “One more thing.”

  “Yes?” she asked, gripping her briefcase tight. If this asshole expected her to pay the tab, she’d tell him to stick that bill up his—

  “I like Jameson’s Gym. Can I assume it won’t be awkward running into you there?”

  “Not if you don’t mind that you couldn’t buy your way up my skirt.” She couldn’t help at least one zinger.

  He snorted. “I’ll survive. See you around.” He walked away.

  Not planning to stick around for another agonizing round of educational, cold, or frigid adjectives in case he came back, she sought the lounge around the corner. After making sure John hadn’t decided to do the same, she ordered a drink and sat at a table, alone, facing the bay.

  She wanted to cry. God, what was wrong with her? She’d handled that jerk with aplomb. He’d tried to buy her, like she was a whore. There were thousands more Johns where he’d come from. Dicks who thought they could snap their fingers and get whatever they wanted because they had money or looks or fame. But the references to her being nothing more than a body for him to use to slake his lust hurt. He’d seen her around and wanted a date. But not to talk. Not to get to know her. A lot like the many other men she’d dated in her life. They’d been drawn to her beauty then complained of her coldness. She either moved too fast or not fast enough. After the sex, she never satisfied anyone.

  Least of all herself.

  “Hey there.” Cameron sat next to her, dressed in a black suit and a white shirt unbuttoned at the throat. Like John, he had looks and money. And the warmth so many women appeared to be looking for in a relationship.

  “Hey.” She drank, finishing her glass.

  “Need another?”

  “Sure.”

  He signaled to a waitress. “Another…”

  “Diva in Pink.”

  “Diva in Pink and a Scotch.” He turned to her. “What’s in that?”

  She shrugged. “The bartender said it’s like a cosmopolitan on steroids.”

  Cameron nodded. He looked so handsome, so…together. Why the hell was he sitting with her?

  “I caught your conversation with the jackass.” The ice in his eyes froze her to the spot.

  She stilled.

  “Nicely handled, by the way. Personally, I’d have gone for his throat. That or his tiny, tiny dick. Yeah, saw him in the steam room once. You didn’t miss anything there.”

  She snorted with amusement.

  “But you handled it with class. I was proud of you. Don’t know that I could have done that.”

  A ball of something heavy sat over her chest. She rubbed it and blinked hard.

  “Vanessa?”

  The waitress brought their drinks, but Vanessa stared past hers at the ocean, watching the waves roll. A rhythm of swells coming and going. But never staying.

  “Cameron? Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure,” he answered softly.

  “Do you like talking to me?” She didn’t want to see his expression when he answered, didn’t want to know what he really thought. For all that he could get on her nerves, Cameron was a kind man. He would tell her what she wanted to hear.

  He didn’t speak. She heard him take a sip and then he said, “Look at me.”

  She forced herself not to feel and turned. “What?”

  His tender expression confused her, because she wanted to hold on to it as much as she wanted to look away. “I love talking to you. I think the first thing about you that attracted me, aside from those long, long legs, was your mind.”

  She sighed. “Right.”

  “No, really.” He smiled warmly. “I live with people who think I’m both a nerd and a moron, which shouldn’t actually be possible. My family treats me like a girl half the time—no offense. And my job sounds interesting to women until they ask me about it, and I tell them. They don’t want to hear me. They just want to look at these fine features and get a crack at my stellar skills in bed.” He leaned closer. “You would understand if you’d really tangled with my tongue.”

  She found herself smiling when moments ago she’d wanted to cry.

  “I know what it’s like to be misunderstood. Trust me, I’ve been living with my personal demon for almost two weeks now. And I’ve never felt more alone or useless in my life.”

  “I’m sorry.” She knew how hard family could be. “My own parents and I never talk. They don’t do birthdays or holidays or… Hell, they don’t do fun. Never have. If it wasn’t for Aunt Michelle—Maddie’s mom—I’d probably be a sociopath. Or so Maddie likes to say.”

  He laughed. “Maddie’s so dramatic. She’s cute, but if I had to put up with that roller coaster of emotions all the time, I’d shoot myself.”

  “I know.” She sipped her drink and watched Cameron’s throat as he swallowed his. Why she found that sexy she couldn’t say.

  “Vanessa…” He paused. “This isn’t going to sound right. But I’d like to continue our conversation in private. Would you like to come up to my room?” Before she could answer, he hurried to say, “I have a suite. We’ll sit in the living area. Clothes on. Straight up—this isn’t a pass.”

  Even if I want it to be?

  “I could use someone to talk to, and I think you could too. What do you say?”

  Chapter 5

  Cam was nervous. Normally with a date, he experienced sexual desire, a flutter of eager anticipation, not uncomfortable anxiety. Vanessa was different.

  When he’d overheard that dipshit talking to her as if she were nothing more than a toy to service him, he’d wanted to pound the guy until he lost those bright white teeth. Cam’s table along the wall had been close enough to overhear but discreet enough not to be seen in case dickwad had remembered him from the gym.

  Dickwad’s comment, “I know you’re single”—that had really bothered him. Cam didn’t want men thinking Vanessa was available. He wanted her off the market, clearly labeled as his.

  He hated the vulnerability in her eyes as she stared out his balcony windows at the ocean. He’d turned on the light in the far corner of the room, enough to give the room some illumination without being overpowering. But he could still see the hurt she tried to hide.

  “Nice view,” she murmured.

  “Yeah. The clients like it.”

  She turned to him and raised a brow.

  “You made me feel guilty about writing off this suite for pleasure, which of course I’d never, ever do.” When she snorted, he laughed. “So I arranged for three of my newer clients to meet me here in the suite to talk strategy. It was worthwhile, trust me. Since I don’t yet have a working office, I’m keeping this for the weekend. My getaway from the old man.” He raised his glass and took a sip, aware her glass remained nearly full. “Not thirsty?”

  “Not in the mood to get drunk. Alcohol is a depressant, and I don’t need the help.”

  “He really got to you, didn’t he? Want me to go smash his face in?”

  She blew out a breath. “Yes and no. I wanted to be the one to kick his balls through the roof of his mouth. But he’s not worth it.”

  “You got that right.” He sat down next to her. “Talk to me. What’s really going on?”

  “No. Tell me about your dad. Let me get back to you on my psychoses.”

  He shrugged. “Sure. In a nutshell, my father has bitched about every goddamn thing in my condo he could. My food is gross, my d�
�cor something that makes him more than uncomfortable, and I don’t get the requisite sports channels Mike does.”

  “So why the hell doesn’t he move in with Mike?”

  “Trust me. I wanted to tell him to leave, but Mom wants to be able to see Colin without running into Dad.”

  “Ah.”

  “Yeah.” He swallowed more Scotch, wishing for a heady buzz and only feeling the mellow release of whiskey. “We had a huge blowup yesterday and haven’t talked since.” He sighed. “I think he’s cheating on Mom.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah. He didn’t come out and admit it. Made a lot of bullshit excuses about all he’s sacrificed in his lifetime, how everything’s been for Mom. Then he went off on me like I don’t respect his work. When did I ever say I hated his job?” He was baffled as to the man’s thought processes. “I would have thought he was just deflecting except I swear he seemed really hurt.”

  “Well, you’ve said you and he don’t have that much in common. Maybe you aren’t the only one bothered by that.”

  “I guess.” He nursed the thought. “I just don’t see why he and Mom can’t work things out, talk to each other.”

  “Have they tried marriage counseling?”

  He snorted. “My father? You have met James McCauley, haven’t you? The man who knows everything about everything?” Was it his imagination, or did she flinch a little? “What? If you were in a relationship, say married, and you were having problems, wouldn’t you seek professional help?”

  “I would hope so. That seems like a rational and logical recourse. But then, I don’t know that I’d want to share my personal problems with a stranger.”

  “Not even to make your marriage work?” He set down his glass and caught some stray blond hair that had escaped from her bun. He had no idea if she did it on purpose or not, but that hairstyle dared a man to muss it up and take it all down. To run his fingers through it and drag her face closer for a kiss.

  She swallowed hard. “I, ah, I can’t say. Never been married.”

  He scooted closer, until their thighs touched, and she turned to better face him. “You ever think you’ll marry?” he asked.