Happy-Go-Lucky Page 2

  When his attention returned to me, his expression softened the tiniest bit. “You’re the lesser of several evils. If I’m sitting here with you, there’s less chance of anyone else trying to talk to me.”

  “Why Mr. Grant, coming from you that almost sounds like a compliment.”

  Again, his lips did that twitching thing, and for some reason, it gave me a flutter in my belly.

  “Like I said, you’re the lesser of several evils.”

  “If I’m the lesser evil, then who is the greater one?” A sneaky part of me wanted to know who at the office got on Cameron Grant’s nerves the most. I mean, we all got on his nerves, obviously, but I wondered if the people who irritated me also irritated him. Sure, I might be happy-go-lucky, but people could still be annoying from time to time. Especially when you worked with them day in and day out.

  “I’m smarter than that, Miss Wilkins. I won’t be giving you any fodder for water-cooler gossip.”

  Ha! Like I was included in the water-cooler group. I wasn’t anywhere near popular enough to be a part of that gang.

  I tried to think of something else to say but came up short. I’d never been the most proficient conversationalist. I tended to start off fine then run out of ideas. Like now. I’d always been far better over email than in real life. Oh yes, I could charm the pants off clients with my trusty Gmail account, but in person, I was a bit more awkward. Cheerful but awkward.

  I noticed how his shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing a nice amount of arm hair and an expensive-looking wristwatch. Weird that I found his arm hair attractive. My cheeks heated and I decided to distract myself by ordering another drink. The bartender set my second gin and tonic of the night down in front of me and I took a hungry gulp.

  Cameron lifted an eyebrow. “Thirsty?”

  I shifted on the stool and rubbed my palms on the skirt of my dress. Unfortunately, the sparkly material wasn’t much help. “Something like that,” I muttered in response.

  The silence stretched on until Cameron said, “I suppose we should make small talk.”

  The stiff way he said it made me laugh. I took another large gulp of my drink. “Um, yeah, I suppose we should.”

  He rubbed his jaw. “What are you working on right now?”

  I chewed my lip. “Juggling a few upcoming cases. I have one or two updates to make to the Vince Young file, but I should have those on your desk Monday morning.”

  Cameron frowned, and I thought I’d said something wrong, but then he surprised me by apologising. “Sorry. You don’t want to talk about work. I don’t want to either. It’s just, I’m not the best at—”

  “Conversation?” I guessed.

  He frowned harder, then nodded. “Yes. My brother Nick says I’m an anti-social workaholic. That I need to try to branch out, meet people, take up a new hobby.”

  I was surprised at how he offered up the information. As far as I could tell, he was a closed book with everyone at the office. Nobody could break past his hard shell.

  “I didn’t know you had a brother,” I said.

  “I have a sister too, but she lives in London,” Cameron said. “My brother, Nick, works at the Starbucks in town.”

  The name rang a bell. “Wait a second, the guy with the curly hair? That’s your brother?”

  Cameron surprised me again when he let out a deep, almost shy chuckle. “Yes, that’s him. We’re very, um, different.”

  “I never would’ve guessed you were related. You look nothing alike.” His brother was also warm and friendly. He was always charming customers whenever I went in for my morning latte. I didn’t mention this though. I was sure Cameron was already aware of their differences.

  “He looks more like our dad,” Cameron replied.

  I found it weird to think of him having parents, siblings. I was used to imagining him as some sort of perfect-looking vampire who slept in a coffin and consumed only blood. Then again, it was hard to explain the whole daylight thing.

  “Everyone says I’m the image of my mum,” I said. “We both have the exact same blonde hair and brown eyes. She also looks really young, so we sometimes get mistaken for sisters.” I laughed fondly. “Mum loves it when that happens.”

  “No offence to your mother, but that’s probably just a ploy men use to chat you up.”

  I slapped him on the arm and he appeared amused. Had I really just touched him? That second gin and tonic was taking effect.

  I swallowed thickly. “It’s not a ploy. My mum is really pretty. And besides, I never get chatted up, so you’re definitely wrong.”

  His only response was an arch look, which I didn’t get.

  “Do your parents live close by?” he asked after a stretch of silence.

  “They’re in Barnstaple, about an hour and a half away. I visit them most weekends.” I had a really close relationship with my mum and dad, probably because I was an only child. I was also lucky in that they were amazingly kind and loving people and had always gone out of their way to support me.

  “Did you move to Torquay for the job, or were you here already?” Cameron questioned further.

  “I moved for the job. I used to work at the library back home, but I found it a little tedious and boring. I wanted to put my skills to use in a more interesting way, which was why the position at James & Peterson intrigued me so much. You have to admit, our work is pretty exciting sometimes.”

  “I disagree. People are obvious. I’ve yet to work on a case that’s actually surprised me.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Really? Then why do you do it?”

  “Because I’m good at it.”

  He was a little more than good. Cameron Grant was the best investigator we had. He had a way of predicting people’s motivations, their secrets, their desires. I didn’t know how he did it, because I was constantly gobsmacked by the results of many of our investigations.

  I glanced at him. “How do you figure people out?”

  “Everything humans do is for one of three things: money, sex, or power. Once you figure out which one a person wants, the rest is easy.”

  I lifted my glass, thinking about it. “I guess you’re right.”

  He nudged me with his elbow. “So, which of the three is most important to you, Maisie?”

  When he used my first name, a little trickle of pleasure went through me. It sounded good in his deep, masculine voice. It seemed like he was becoming more comfortable with me, letting his guard down, which felt…well, nice. I considered his question. Which one was most important to me?

  Finally, I replied, “I’m not sure I’m particularly interested in any of them. It’s nice to have money, sure, but I don’t crave power at all, and sex is pleasant, but it’s not like I couldn’t live without it.” Oh man, had I really just said that?

  A deep chuckle from him. “Pleasant, huh?”

  “At the very least it should be pleasant,” I said quietly, staring at the glass in front of me.

  “And you could live without it?” he went on, a curious note to his voice.

  “There are lots of things people can live without,” I answered evasively. “We might not like it, but we’d survive.” I knew this for a fact since it had been a number of years since my last sexual encounter and I was still very much alive and kicking. I downed the last of my drink and motioned to the bartender for another. Cameron opened his mouth as if to say something, but he seemed to think better of it and stayed silent. I wondered if he thought I was drinking too much, not that it was any of his business.

  When I looked over at the dance floor, Lilah was still having a roaring good time, dancing with several of our co-workers. “Lilah looks to be enjoying herself,” I said to break the quiet. Cameron nodded but didn’t comment, so I continued, “She’s pretty amazing. I want to be her when I grow up.”

  “A little late for that,” he quipped.

  I let out a sigh. “I know. Maybe in my next life. I’m fairly sure every man at the office is in love with her. Even the married ones.”

  Cameron shook his head. “Not every man.”

  I eyed him a moment, not particularly surprised that he wasn’t secretly attracted to Lilah. He didn’t strike me as someone who had secret longings. I wondered what he did for company? Then again, he did seem to prefer being alone most of the time.

  Another silence fell, and I noticed our boss arrive at the party. Georgia Peterson was greeted by a few people as she scanned the room. When she saw Cameron sitting with me, she appeared pleased. Her blackmailing had worked.

  “Looks like Georgia just spotted you. You’re off the hook,” I said, glancing at Cameron.

  He noted her presence, then drank the last of his whiskey, his dark, sexy eyes trailing over me. Warmth claimed my cheeks.

  “Maybe I’ll stay a little while longer,” he said, and it sent a rush of pleasure through me. Seriously, when Cameron Grant found your company tolerable, you took it as a compliment.

  This feeling of flattery was probably the reason why I ordered a fourth drink and a fifth. Possibly a sixth. Cameron kept up the pace with me, and I lost count of how many whiskeys he’d had. It seemed out of character for him to drink this much, just like it was for me, but our conversation was flowing now and I felt like he was enjoying himself just as much as I was. As the night progressed, and as the alcohol in our systems took hold, we became less Mr. Grant and Miss Wilkins and more Cameron and Maisie.

  “Are you a natural blonde?” he asked at one point, reaching out to twist a strand of my hair around his finger. I’d never seen him like this, drunk and flirtatious. I liked it. I liked it a lot.

  I was drunk, too, which was why the look he was giving me didn’t have me running away like a scared rabbit. “Yes, I am.”

  “It’s very pretty. Your hair, I mean. I’ve always thought so.”

  “You have?”

  Cameron nodded. “And your eyes, too. They’re so…brown.”

  How did he make a colour sound like a compliment? I flushed, despite the alcohol in my system. Or perhaps because of it. I relished the way he was looking at me, talking to me, especially after so many years of admiring him from afar. Perhaps it was a good thing Cameron was grumpy and anti-social on a day-to-day basis, because if he acted like this all the time, every woman in his path would be falling for him head over heels.

  “And you’ve got the best arse at the office,” he went on, whispering in my ear.

  A shiver trickled down my spine as I tried my best not to spontaneously combust. Cameron Grant liked my bottom. He thought it was the best bottom out of everyone we worked with. On an ordinary day this fact would’ve made me shy, but right now I just felt giddy. My eyes rose to the plant that had been pinned above the bar, conveniently right over our heads.

  “Is that mistletoe?” I questioned absently.

  “Why, yes,” Cameron replied. “I do believe it is.”

  “Huh.”

  “Does this mean we should kiss?”

  I met his gaze. “I don’t know, does it?”

  That was the last thing I remembered saying before the two of us were drunkenly hailing a cab back to his place. I wondered vaguely if anyone had seen us leave together but brushed the thought aside. I was too distracted when Cameron placed his hands on my cheeks, eyes wandering back and forth between mine.

  “You’re very pretty, Maisie,” he murmured drunkenly before his mouth found mine. Surprisingly, the kiss wasn’t sloppy. Well, it was a little sloppy, but in a sexy, needy way. His tongue slid hungrily past my lips, and I wondered if maybe it had been just as long since Cameron last had sex as it had been for me.

  It was a short ride to his flat. Hastily, he paid the driver then led me towards the building. By the time we made it to his door, a little voice in my head started to nag.

  Is this a wise idea, Maisie?

  Will you regret this in the morning?

  I ignored it, and the moment we stepped inside, I pulled Cameron’s jacket off, then made short work of his shirt buttons. I briefly ran my hands over his chest before he was kissing me again. His hand came up to massage my breast, and I wished I wasn’t wearing so many clothes

  “You’re so soft,” he said, and I let out a shuddering sigh as he nibbled on my lower lip and reached for my zipper. “C’mere. Let’s get this off you.”

  “Yes,” I breathed. “Hurry.”

  He groaned when I palmed his cock through his trousers. It had been way too long since I’d touched anyone like this. In truth, I doubted I had ever touched anyone with such urgency. I was a little eager, but his eagerness matched mine.

  My dress fell to the floor, and he soaked in the sight of me. He grabbed his belt and started to undo it, at the same time kissing me again and moving us into the bedroom. In my peripheral I noted how nice and neat his flat was, and then my back met his mattress.

  He kissed my neck and jaw, and pleasurable chills skittered down my spine.

  “Cameron, please,” I begged. Saying his name seemed to do something to him. His eyes darkened with a fierce hunger. My chest rose and fell rapidly as he gazed down at me.

  He knelt between my legs, his pants hanging loose at his hips. His hand went between my thighs, whispering across the fabric of my underwear before he slid it to the side. I trembled when his fingers brushed my clit.

  Cameron Grant was my work crush. My attraction to him had always felt harmless since I never imagined he’d ever be interested in me. Then again, he was currently wearing whiskey goggles.

  Don’t think about that right now.

  “You’re so wet,” he said as he moved two fingers inside me. I closed my eyes and bit my lip at the feel of it.

  “More,” I urged, and his movements sped up.

  He briefly paused to pull a condom from his bedside dresser and tore open the packet. He frowned, having a little trouble with it in his drunken state. Swearing under his breath, he threw it to the floor and pulled out another. He had better luck this time, rolling it down his stiff length.

  He has a nice penis, my alcohol-fuzzy brain noted.

  “This okay?” he asked when he pressed himself against me.

  I nodded, breathless, then moaned as he pushed inside. He thrust into me fast and deep, a sexy, dark, lustful expression on his face. I dug my nails into his shoulders, lost to the pleasure. My eyes were closed, but when I opened them, Cameron was absorbing my every reaction, every sound and gasp of need.

  He massaged my breast, pinched my nipple, then rolled it between his thumb and forefinger. I said a very unladylike word, and he groaned.

  “We should’ve done this years ago,” he said, voice raspy.

  Wait, did he really mean that?

  His groans grew louder, punctuated with intermittent swearing as he reached between our bodies and thumbed my clit. Pleasure coiled deep in my belly, an orgasm building.

  Cameron Grant was the most attentive lover I’d ever had, and he wasn’t even sober.

  “Are you close?” he asked, sweat glistening on his forehead.

  My only response was a choked moan as my orgasm swiftly hit. Cameron must’ve felt it too, because his thrusts sped up. His hand moved over my breast, along my collarbone before resting at my throat. He clasped my neck softly, then pressed his mouth to mine when he came. His masculine sounds of pleasure shattered through me.

  The last thing I remember was him pulling me into the crook of his body to fall asleep, his sexy, sleepy voice murmuring my name as he cradled me to him.

  ***

  When I woke up, it was morning. Cameron was snoring lightly, his body spooning mine. I momentarily enjoyed his warmth before the full realisation of what we’d done dawned on me.

  I’d gotten drunk at a party and slept with a co-worker—a superior, even! —one of the most foolish things a person could do. Panic and embarrassment settled in the pit of my stomach, not at the act itself, but at the thought of people at work finding out. I didn’t want to be the topic of weeks of gossip. Had anyone seen us leave together? The fact that we’d sat at the bar for an extended period of time alone would be a source of gossip.

  My job was important to me and I didn’t want to be talked about, or lose the respect of my co-workers if they discovered I’d slept with Cameron. It was the sad truth that the woman in these situations was often shunned while the man was congratulated. Would Cameron go around telling people of his conquest? No, that didn’t seem like him. So why was I worried? Perhaps it was more down to the airy, fluttery feeling in my stomach, the strange new emotions I felt when I thought of how he’d been with me last night, his tender looks and soft, affectionately spoken words.

  Yes, I liked Cameron and that was very inconvenient for me. Relationships between co-workers at James & Peterson weren’t encouraged, mainly because romantic entanglements might affect our work, but also because there was a risk of a harassment claim if the interest wasn’t reciprocated. I had bills and a mortgage to pay, and research jobs weren’t exactly plentiful. Therefore I couldn’t afford to jeopardise my employment.

  Deciding I needed to leave, I was careful not to wake Cameron. I crawled out of bed and gathered my things. I searched around his room and found everything except my bra. Where the hell was it?

  Cameron shifted and I froze. When his breathing evened out, I exhaled and continued looking. Maybe my bra had gotten discarded somewhere out in the living room. I crept outside, holding my clothes to my chest, and looked around. Cameron’s flat was nice, like really nice. It was open plan, stylish yet cosy and spotlessly clean. There was even a vase of fresh flowers on the kitchen table. It wasn’t at all what I expected of a man in his thirties living alone.

  Something glinted in the corner of my eye. On the coffee table sat a small crystal bowl, and inside the bowl was what appeared to be a man’s wedding ring. My heart thundered in my ears. I stepped closer and with a shaky hand, picked up the ring. Was it Cameron’s? The very thought made me recoil, and I dropped the ring back into the bowl like it just burned me.

  Flustered, I looked around for more evidence and felt ill when I found it. There were a few pictures on his mantel, but one in particular stood out. Cameron was wearing a suit, and he stood next to a pretty woman with long, curly brown hair. They were outside a castle of some sort, and the woman wore a wedding dress.