The sun was high and hot when Vince saw Blake strolling in his direction the next afternoon. A man with a mission, even if he did glance around the hotel grounds, as if taking casual perusal of the beds. Vince was cleaning away the last of the weeds on the west side flower beds and double checking the sprinklers and the mowing job his guys had done. “Howdy. Finally finish your meeting?”
“Yes. This has been an unusual situation. I don’t understand why someone’s picking on the girls; add to that this ghost nonsense.” Blake slid his hands into the pockets of his dress pants and rocked back on his heels.
“It makes me mad. Those women are doing their best, and from what I’ve seen so far, their best is impressive. Why would someone want to ruin it?”
“I don’t know, but I’m working on it.” Blake glanced at the snapdragons near his feet, and when he spoke, his tone changed. “You’ve been busy this summer.” When his eyes shot back to Vince, it was clear he wasn’t talking about landscaping.
Though it put his back up to have his motives questioned, Vince covered with a shrug. “You seem rather interested.”
“It’s natural.”
“Because you’ve got a thing for Lana, or because they’re your employees, more or less?” Vince wiped his hands on his pants, not worrying about dirt streaks. They were already beyond help of anything but a washing machine.
Blake’s gaze was steady on him. “Because I care. And because their father asked me to watch out for them.”
Vince lifted his brows. It was a very nice answer, but he thought it was only half accurate. “You have nothing to worry about, as I don’t want to see any of them hurt. Least of all Cami.” He hooked his thumbs in his pockets, hoping he wasn’t projecting the irritation he felt at Blake’s third degree and decided to turn some of it around. “And if I asked you about your intentions towards Lana?”
Blake’s eyes flashed and his face hardened, his voice growing cold. “What’s between Lana and I stays between us. I’m not going to hurt her and neither is anyone else.”
Vince figured he was supposed to be scared, but it didn’t come close. The response definitely intrigued him, though. “I feel the same responsibility to watch out for them that you do. So we understand each other.”
Blake studied Vince for a long moment. “Perfectly.” He put out his hand, offering it to Vince, who grinned and accepted it.
“So,” Vince said as he grabbed a shovel, glad to have it over. “Did George make it clear he picked you out to be a son-in-law too?”
A slow smile crossed Blake’s face. “Something like that.” “You play poker?”
“Not well.”
“All the better,” Vince flashed him a grin. “Though we don’t exactly play high stakes. Let me know when you’re going to be around some Thursday, and you can join Gage,
Jeremy, and me. We’ve been looking for a fourth since Jeremy’s brother moved.” “I think I’d like that.”
~*~
Cami burst into the house, trembling with excitement. “Mrs. Grady,” she called out. The woman’s car was parked out front, so Cami knew she was here. She clutched the printout as she hurried through the house, finally finding Mrs. Grady in Delphi’s bedroom, washing the window.
“What is it?” Mrs. Grady turned to Cami.
Cami waved the paper in her hands. “I think I’ve found you some hope. A little, anyway. I just spoke with a friend of a friend in Chicago. They’re working on this new database of people willing to do live organ donation. He said he could get your husband’s information in the database. All he needs to do is sign the HIPAA waver and request the relevant records be sent over. It’s not a sure thing, but maybe.”
Tears welled up in Mrs. Grady’s eyes and she sat heavily in the gray office chair at the desk. “Are you serious?”
“It’s still a small database, totally run by volunteers, but it’s growing all the time. If your husband is a match, the donor will be contacted to verify that they’re still willing, then there will be testing and whatever—I’m sure you’re familiar with the process.”
“Yes.” The woman sobbed and covered her face with her hands. “I can’t believe you did this.”
“I haven’t done much of anything yet. It was only a couple of calls.” Cami had sent out a dozen emails and made two or three times that many calls, but it had been fun to have a good challenge. Managing the impossible had been her favorite part of being a concierge.
“Still, I can’t believe you did this.” Mrs. Grady looked up at her with wet eyes. “Why would you? I barely know you.”
“Do I have to know you well to want to help? You’ve been so good to us. You deserve to have your husband around for a long, long time.” Cami gave the woman’s arm a squeeze.
Sobs tore out again and Mrs. Grady stood, moving toward the door. “Do you mind? I need to . . .”
“That’s fine.” Cami laughed, never happier than she was right now. “You take care of the paperwork. We’ll see you tomorrow. ”
Before she headed back to the office, Cami double-checked the locks, then practically danced out to her car.
~*~
Cami was ready when Vince arrived to pick her up that evening. She had no idea what he had in mind, so she’d worn stone colored dress pants, a dark red blouse with capped sleeves, and a pair of loafers, dressing it all up with some gaudy costume jewelry she’d bought two years earlier and never had the guts to wear.
Vince wore his usual T-shirt and jeans and his hair was still slightly damp. He brought her a small bouquet of pink Peruvian lilies. “Do you like them?” he asked when she accepted the flowers.
“They’re perfect. Thanks.” She brushed a kiss across his lips, then turned to the kitchen to find a vase.
“That’s all the thanks I get?” he asked, stepping in behind her and reaching over her head to grab the vase, which was a bit too high up for her to reach comfortably.
“Well, I might be able to do better,” she teased as she turned into his arms.
“That’s what I thought.” He tipped his head as he sampled her lips. “Take care of those so we can go.”
She slid out of his reach, her heart pounding a lot faster than normal, as she found the kitchen shears and snipped at the stems, resettling them in fresh water. “They are beautiful. Delicate, classy, but simple.”
He reached out, snagged a lock of her hair and gave it a light tug. “I hadn’t planned on flowers, but they reminded me of you.”
She didn’t know what to do with him when he was like this. She’d had other boyfriends say sweet things, but usually the comments were too planned, maybe even on the insincere side. Not Vince, though. When she saw the look in his eyes, she believed his words.
“Done?” he asked, taking her hand.
“Yes.” She followed him to the door, picking up her purse on their way out. The kitchen and great room were miraculously empty as they passed through. “So where are we going?”
He didn’t answer right away, taking her around the nose of his car and settling her inside. “My place.”
Vince shut the door and circled to his side without giving her a chance to respond. After the long day he’d had at work, they were going to his place? Maybe he planned to get take out.
When he pulled onto the street, she asked, “Your place? Are we stopping for burgers along the way?”
He grinned. “I am capable of cooking. Sometimes. I thought it might make a nice change. A little spaghetti, some puppy love, and uninterrupted time together.”
“Sounds nice.” And it did. When he reached for her hand, she threaded their fingers together, sat back, and enjoyed the ride as Jason Aldean crooned a country ballad.
The drive to his place was peppered with conversation about the day. When they pulled in front of a huge log cabin that stood two stories with a big bank of windows and a wrap-around porch, Cami thought the man had great taste in homes. She’d been too preoccupied to notice the first time she’d been there. “This is lovely.”
The home was snuggled into the woods, but with a little grass for a yard, and swaths of native bushes and flowers. She could tell he’d made an effort to ensure the landscaping blended with nature. “It’s like it grew there.”
He grinned at her and stole a kiss before releasing her hand to exit the car. “I’m glad you approve.”
How could she not, she wondered as she waited for him to get her door. Most of the homes she’d seen had either ruthlessly cut back the forest to impose out-of-place landscaping, or had let their yards grow wild. This was a perfect fusion of the two schools of thought.
After helping her out of the car, Vince reached into the back for a bag of groceries. “I stopped at the store for supplies before picking you up.”
The dogs went crazy in the backyard, barking like they were under attack and jumping so their doggie noses appeared over the top of the fence for a blink. Cami looked forward to seeing them again.
The inside was as bright as outside, all clean, clear-varnished pine on walls and floors. The furniture was minimal, but cozy with warm fabrics and soft cushions. It wasn’t so overtly masculine a woman would be uncomfortable, but held Vince’s taste through everything.
“Look around if you’d like. You didn’t last time. I’ll go start dinner,” Vince said. Though a thought niggled that she ought to help, she decided to take him up on the offer to explore first. “All right. I’ll join you in a few minutes.”
The rest of the house fit the same mold. It could use a woman’s touch: a bowl of flowers here or there, something hanging on the walls that wasn’t wrought iron, or made of animal antlers—though there were no actual heads mounted, for which she was grateful.
Everything was clutter free, put where it belonged—but she supposed he probably wouldn’t have invited her over if it had been a mess. When she stopped at his bedroom door, she noticed the balcony on the other side. She crossed to step out, look over the backyard, and saw him loving on the dogs. She couldn’t hear what he said to them, but his voice was playful.
“Are you harassing those dogs again?” she called down to him.
He turned to see her on the balcony and grinned. Their eyes caught as the smile slid from his face. For a long moment time seemed to stop as the air backed out of Cami’s lungs and something moved in her chest. Needing a chance to center herself, she waved and walked back into the house, rubbing her chest at the sudden ache. What had that been all about? Cami had never felt anything like it. She checked out the last two rooms upstairs, both of which held boxes, but no furniture, then felt centered enough to speak with him again.
She found Vince in the kitchen, standing over a pan of hamburger browning with chunks of onion in it. “Your place is nice. Clean—way cleaner than I expected.” She tried to keep her voice light as she walked over. Michael Bublé’s voice crooned from speakers tucked into the room corners, surprising her yet again.
“Thanks. I’m not much for clutter. Would you slice some mushrooms for the sauce?” “Sure.” Grateful to have something to do with her hands, she picked up the knife from the marble-topped island and went to work. The theme of the kitchen, like the rest of the house, was space. There was ample room between cabinets—and plenty of those to go around. A dining area between the kitchen and back patio held an undersized table and chairs for the space, and the back wall was almost all windows, bringing the fenced yard into the house. “This must be a spectacular place to sit in the winter.”
“It is. And the fall when the leaves are all turning gold and red. And in the spring when the first hint of green becomes a haze across the mountain.”
“So, pretty much year round,” she said. He chuckled. “Yeah, pretty much.”
She sliced green peppers for the sauce and the salad, more mushrooms, some pretty tomatoes, which were obviously locally grown, and tossed them all into a bowl after dumping a package of field greens into it.
“I didn’t picture you cooking much,” Cami said when the salad was done and Vince slid garlic bread into the oven.
“You have a lot to learn about me.” Vince glanced over his shoulder at her and grinned. “Okay, time to fess up. This is my best dish, by far. I eat a lot of fast food, TV dinners and cereal.”
“And yet you built a kitchen like this one. Rosemary would go crazy seeing it go to waste.”
“You tell her she’s welcome to cook in it anytime she wants, if it bothers her so much.” He looked over at Cami after setting the timer. “Or you can come use it sometime.” He slid his hands onto her waist and pulled her close. “I like seeing you here.”
Cami melted a little more as Vince kissed her, soft and gentle. He released her to check on the pasta.
When they were seated at the table, twirling spaghetti on their forks Vince finished talking about one of his high school exploits. “Let’s just say my mom was less than pleased. I was doing extra chores for a month.”
“You deserved it.” Cami looked down at her plate. “My mom definitely would’ve had a fit.” She felt a lump of pain rise to her throat when she thought of her mom, so vibrant and young. “She was also really good at creative punishments.”
Vince’s hand slid over hers. “Your father said she died several years back, but he didn’t say how.”
Cami flipped her hand over and entwined their fingers. She rarely talked about it, but after everything they’d been through, she felt safe telling him. “Six years ago she started to act odd. She developed memory loss and dementia almost overnight. At first we wondered if it was a brain tumor or something. Then the doctor diagnosed it as Creuzfeldt-Jakob Disease.”
Vince ran his thumb over her knuckles, his full attention on her. “What’s that?”
“It’s a neurological disorder that causes holes in the brain, makes it like a sponge. Her whole personality changed in a matter of weeks. Dad cancelled everything he was doing, passed along his work to someone else and stayed home with her.” Her eyes stung with the memories she usually tried to ignore. She much preferred to think of her mother as healthy and vibrantly alive. “It was all so fast. One day she was normal, and practically overnight Dad had to hire a full-time nurse.”
“How long did it take?” Vince asked. “To kill her? Less than four months.”
“Fast, too fast,” he said, giving her hand a squeeze. “And agonizingly slow all at the same time.”
“Yeah. It was awful.” The ache in her chest grew. “I miss her every day.”
A moment of silence passed between them, then he leaned in and brushed his lips against her temple. The gentleness of his touch reassured her and she leaned against him.
After dinner they played with the dogs, then enjoyed the cannoli he’d picked up at a restaurant in town.
When the dishes were all piled in the dishwasher or drying on the counter, Vince pulled her into his arms and twirled her around the room, making her laugh. “I have the sudden desire for a dance.” He slid into rhythm with the music. “You don’t mind, do you?”
She snuggled closer to him and inhaled his cologne. “Definitely not.”
The music transitioned into “You Are Always on my Mind,” dripping with smooth sounds and light piano. Vince slowed things down, pulling her closer, one hand on the small of her back, the other tangled in the curls at her nape as he nuzzled her neck, her ear, her jaw and took her mouth in a lazy, sensual kiss.
“Did someone tell you about my thing for Michael Bublé?” she asked against his lips. “Hmmm? No. But I can change the music if he’s competition for me.”
She giggled and his hand on her back skimmed up her spine, dragging her closer as she wrapped her arms around him, kissing back with focused, languid attention. The song was long over, had moved onto another when he pulled back and kissed her again. He slid both hands on her face, taking the kiss deeper.
When he tipped his forehead against hers, she thought her heart would pound right out of her chest.
“Stay the night.” His words were low, throaty, but vibrated right through her. “I—” She shouldn’t, it was a mistake, but she couldn’t think clearly.
“Come on, baby. Stay with me.” Vince gave her another long kiss, then slid his lips down to nibble at her neck.
“Okay.” And as he led her upstairs to his room, Cami refused to let herself second-guess.