sell her father’s house a lot easier. But Adam had been nothing but nice to her, probably too nice.
Her cell phone chimed as Camille held the note in her hand, contemplating her feelings. She still held the slip of paper as she moved to her purse and retrieved the phone.
“Camille Davis.”
“Where are you? I’ve been calling your apartment all night. I wanted to find out how things went with Moreen,” Dana said in one breath. For years Camille had wondered how a person could talk so fast without being winded.
Moving to the couch Camille plopped down and laid her head back. “I’m still in Vegas.”
“What? Why? Did she kidnap you?”
Camille chuckled. “You are so dramatic. No, she didn’t kidnap me. I interrupted the meeting before anything could be signed but then one of the buyers asked me to dinner to discuss the deal further.”
“He asked you to dinner?”
Camille wondered why Dana assumed the buyer was a man and could hear the shift in her friend’s tone.
“Was he cute?” Dana asked with growing excitement.
Camille couldn’t resist a smile. “Yes, he’s cute. But that’s not why I went to dinner with him.”
“If he was cute then that should have been the only reason you went with him. You already know you don’t want to sell the house. Why even entertain his offer?”
Camille was asking herself the same question. And the only answer she could come up with was that she wanted a chance to be with Adam Donovan again. “As it turns out I knew him.”
“Really? Who is he?”
Camille groaned inwardly, knowing that the moment she released this tidbit of information Dana was going to flip her lid. “Remember the guy we saw in the casino, the one you wanted me to do?”
“Stop playing! Girl, that fine-ass man is the one trying to buy your property?” Dana practically squealed. “I’d sell him something all right.”
“I just bet you would. If you weren’t happily married, that is. Speaking of which, is Carl back from Phoenix?”
“Yeah, he got back last night. But I don’t want to talk about that. I want to hear about the dinner you had with that hunk.”
“The hunk’s name is Adam Donovan,” Camille said, trying to hide a smile. Although she was only on the phone with Dana she was smiling so hard it was bound to be heard in her voice. “And he seems really nice. It’s a shame I have to kill his deal. But he’s not starving for money so I guess he’ll be okay.”
“Maybe you should prolong your decision, spend a few more days in Vegas getting to know Adam and…” Dana’s voice trailed off.
Camille quickly picked up her drift. “Not happening. I’m meeting with him and his partner at noon. I guess Moreen will be there, too. At any rate, I’m going to put an end to this deal once and for all. I should be back in L.A. tonight.”
“What you should do is cancel that meeting, have a little fun with Adam, then kill the deal and come home.”
“That’s cruel.”
Dana chuckled. “That’s life. Men do it all the time, Camille. Stop being so uptight. You know that guy was feeling you when we were at the bar that night and I’m sure he’s more than happy to have run into you again. Get yourself a little somethin’ somethin’ and then go back to business. You deserve it.”
“And what about him? Does he deserve a one-night stand?” Not that Camille was even considering this idea.
“Like I said, men do it all the time. I’m sure he’s done it a few times, as well. And I’m not saying it has to be just a one-night stand. I know how you are about sex and commitment. I’m just saying you should explore your options with this guy and see where things might lead.”
Camille sighed. “They might lead to him cursing me out since he paid for my hotel stay and is apparently footing the bill for my wardrobe for the day since I didn’t plan on staying here. I’m sure he could say it was just business and write it off as that but it’s going to be crappy that I’m not going through with his deal after all this.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask you about that, Camille. Why won’t you sell the house? You have no plans on living there. Is it just to get back at Moreen?”
“No!” Camille answered quickly. “I don’t know,” she sighed. “It just seems like it’s too soon to let it go. To let him go.”
“But he is gone, Camille. Keeping that house isn’t going to bring him back.”
“I know,” she said sadly. Her stomach growled and Camille instantly thought of the meager dinner she’d had and the breakfast she craved. Scrambled eggs, bacon, pancakes and orange juice sounded divine. Then she let the hand with the note from Adam fall to her stomach and felt the cushiony softness. Yogurt and fruit would have to suffice.
“I’d better get ready for the meeting. I’ll call you later with my flight info so you can pick me up,” she told Dana.
“Okay, but remember what I said, Camille. Take a chance for once, give yourself an early Christmas gift.”
Camille disconnected with Dana with every intention of ignoring her friend’s advice.
She’d tried on a dozen or so business suits and an equal amount of dresses and wasn’t totally satisfied with any of them. While the boutique was very well stocked and carried a lot of her designs, Camille just couldn’t seem to find the right outfit. Everything made her look fat. A part of her knew it was just the complex she’d had all her life and that the size twelve outfits didn’t look that bad on her, but then another part remembered that Moreen would be at that meeting.
Moreen would be dressed in something chic and expensive and she’d look gorgeous and skinny with her svelte size-six body. Today, of all days, Camille needed to be one hundred percent. She needed to feel like she owned the world along with half her father’s house. Moreen would be angry and that would make her sharper, more vindictive and nastier than usual. Max Donovan would no doubt be on point after having spoken to his company lawyers and real estate appraisers again. And then there was Adam.
Adam would be handsome and debonair and charming. All the things he’d been last night and then some. Yeah, she definitely had to be ready for this meeting. And a glance at her watch told her if she didn’t pick an outfit and hustle upstairs to her room she’d start off by being late, which wasn’t a good thing.
An hour later and twenty minutes ahead of schedule Camille stepped out of the Gramercy to a seasonably warm October day. She’d settled on the charcoal gray silk suit with the knee-length flared skirt and fitted jacket that covered her too-round bottom. Sassy Milano pumps gave her height, which ultimately made her appear slimmer, while the excellent cut of the jacket concealed any bulging at her waist and accented her generous bosom. She felt professional, yet attractive and sure of her appearance for a change.
One of her company’s mottos was to do just that. To provide clothes that appealed to every woman of all sizes and classes,
