made her way over to the bar.
Someone walked up behind her.
“Hello, Camille.”
She turned around. “Maxwell, it’s nice to see you,” she managed casually. Camille could hear her heart pounding loudly over the music. His nearness had an arousing effect on her. “I hope you’re having a good time.”
“I am,” he responded in a deep baritone voice.
A new and unexpected warmth surged through her as he looked at her. The richness of his tone made Camille weak at the knees. She supported her weight by placing a hand on the edge of the bar.
She could feel Maxwell’s eyes still observing her. His gaze was intense and penetrating, almost as if he could see right through her. Camille chewed nervously on her bottom lip.
Jerome walked by and uttered, “Stop biting your lip.”
Embarrassed, Camille gave him a playful jab in the ribs. She prayed that Maxwell hadn’t heard him.
Her prayer went unanswered when Maxwell smiled at her, and then asked, “Do I make you nervous, Camille?”
“No,” she responded quickly. “Why would you think that?”
Camille couldn’t stand his arrogance. Did he actually believe that her actions were because of him?
“Most people bite their lips when anxious or nervous.”
Camille gestured to the dance floor. “Why aren’t you out there?” She wanted to take the attention off of herself.
“That’s one of the reasons I walked over here,” Maxwell responded. “I came over to ask you to dance with me.”
She caught sight of Isabelle standing a few yards away and was about to refuse, but he said, “I saw you out there with your coworker. You have some really nice moves. I thought maybe you could teach me a few.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “Okay, now you’re just teasing me.”
He gave her a beautiful smile. “I’m serious. Come, let’s have some fun.”
Why not? “Sure.”
They slowly made their way to the middle of the dance floor.
She wasn’t surprised to find that Maxwell was a wonderful dancer. Camille smiled as she showed off her best moves, wanting to prove that he wasn’t the only one with skills.
“You enjoy dancing, don’t you?”
Smiling, she nodded. “You look like you love it as well.”
“I’m going to tell you a secret.” He leaned forward and whispered in her ear. His words made her grin.
Later when they walked off the dance floor, Camille couldn’t resist asking, “Were you serious about wanting to dance professionally?”
Maxwell nodded. “It used to be a dream of mine, but my parents insisted that I find a real profession. They didn’t believe that dancing would pay the bills.”
“Is that why you became a lawyer?”
He nodded. “My parents and grandfather are all lawyers, so I felt that I should carry on the family tradition.”
“Being a lawyer has served you well, wouldn’t you say?” Camille questioned. Maxwell was one of the top litigation attorneys in the country. He was licensed to practice in California, New York, D.C., Virginia and Georgia.
He smiled. “I can’t complain.”
She spotted Isabelle walking toward them and said, “Thanks for the dance, Maxwell.”
He smiled at her. “You’re quite welcome, Camille.”
“Mr. Wade,” Isabelle said, joining them. “Let’s dance. Camille, you don’t mind if I take him off your hands, do you?”
He shot a glance in Camille’s direction.
“Have fun,” she mouthed before weaving through the sea of people in attendance.
Camille watched as Maxwell allowed Isabelle to take him by the hand, leading him to the dance floor. She had mixed emotions as she watched the two of them dancing.
Even in a crowd, Maxwell’s presence was compelling. Camille stood there eyeing the numerous women vying for his attention.
“Isabelle’s really trying to latch on to him,” a woman standing beside her commented in a low voice.
Camille did not respond. She liked Isabelle, although she felt that Isabelle was all wrong for a man like Maxwell Wade. Not that she knew what type of woman was perfect for the millionaire attorney. Besides, he had been linked to a flamboyant supermodel for years, a woman who was rumored to be self-centered, hard to work with, and ill-tempered. She had earned a reputation for gaining attention through public tantrums, including an attack on her assistant, during her on-and-off relationship with Maxwell.
Camille allowed her eyes to linger on Maxwell, appreciating the strong lines of his well-formed cheek and jaw. But it was those beautiful brown eyes of his that arrested her—intelligent eyes that seemed to peer through to her very soul. She surveyed Maxwell with an artist’s sensitivity, taking in his naturally arched brows, the faint lines above his forehead and those sexy lips of his.
“What do you think about Isabelle and Maxwell Wade, Camille?”
She gave a slight shrug. “I think that Isabelle’s a big girl and she can take care of herself,” Camille responded. “Hey, I’m going to get something to drink. Want to join me?”
“My boyfriend just went to get drinks for us,” the woman replied. “Thanks though.”
Camille nodded, and then said, “I’ll talk to you later.” She was grateful for a moment alone. She struggled with figuring out what was drawing her to Maxwell. There was some type of invisible thread drawing them together.
I don’t know this man, she kept telling herself over and over. I’m not sure I even like him, so why should I care who he dates?
Camille shook off her thoughts.
She ordered and paid the bartender for a soda.
Just as she turned to leave, Camille bumped into the chief of staff’s wife. “Mrs. Dudley, I’m sorry. I didn’t know that you were standing behind me.”
“You’re fine, dear.” She placed a hand to her forehead. “I have such a terrible headache and this music isn’t helping. I can barely see straight, so I’m going home.”
She was genuinely concerned. “I’m sorry to hear that, Mrs. Dudley. Would you like for me to call you a taxi or something?”
“Germaine’s already taken care of it, dear.”
Dr. Dudley was in heavy conversation with another doctor,
