father wore expensive ties of the most original colors. Adam did not move and she was careful to keep her fingers from actually grazing his chest. She looked up into his eyes then and saw something there she hadn’t wanted to accept.
Adam Donovan had caring eyes to go along with this compassion that he’d shown her on two occasions now. He was dangerously handsome with his close cut curly black hair and cleft chin. His body was broad, like most of the male models she hired and yet he did not appear to be ruled by his good looks. That was a rarity in her world. In the world of fashion people who looked like Adam knew they were the bomb and commanded healthy paychecks because of it. Adam already had a boatload of money and he looked too good to be true. But that wasn’t any of her business.
She pulled her hands away from him and asked. “What will you do with the house if I sell it to you? I mean, specifically, what will you do to it?”
“A complete renovation beginning with the main hall and extending all the way out to the landscape. It’s a great piece of land but it isn’t being displayed to its best advantage. I have several designers that I work with exclusively but I’m thinking of one in particular who is a master with Asian décor.”
Camille studied him. “The high ceilings,” she said slowly. “That is what I like best about the house. When I was a little girl I used to pretend it was my castle.”
He touched her chin then her cheek and she struggled not to lean into him. “The princess,” he whispered.
He looked at her as if she were the only person in the world and she liked it. She wondered what he saw, if it were the fat girl who couldn’t get enough of her father’s attention or the businesswoman who spent her time dressing other females because she was so ashamed of her own body. Those were her therapist’s words. Questions she’d asked Camille. Questions Camille still could not answer.
“I was never a princess,” she responded. “More along the lines of Cinderella, I would say.”
“Cinderella was a princess, a beautiful one who was rescued by the dashing prince at the ball.”
He still touched her face and this time Camille did lean her head into his touch. Just for a moment she’d allow herself the fantasy.
Then the elevator dinged and the doors opened again. She pulled away from him then and stepped off. She heard him behind her and turned back to face him.
“I won’t sell you the house.”
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