Hard For My Best Friend's Sister(14)

“I want you, too.”





Chapter 7

Dylan



I said it. I really said it. I told Cameron Richmond that I wanted him.

Forgiving him felt as natural as breathing. He had always been my weakness. I fell in love with him when I was six years old and he handed me a water balloon and told me he wanted me on his team. Seriously. Those navy blue eyes, eyelashes wet with spray from the hose, and I was done-for.

Even when I hated him, he was my weakness.

But wanting him was impossible. I lived in Dallas, he lived here in New York City. I’d only flown in for this meeting. I would leave tomorrow after the deal was signed.

“There’s one thing I have to know,” Cameron said.

I leaned back in my chair. “What I’m wearing under this dress?”

Cameron’s entire body froze at once. I wanted to push him and see if he fell over.

I smiled and tilted my head. “The answer is: underwear.”

He didn’t laugh. His pupils were dilated, and he moved his hand slowly past his plate.

My pulse jumped. He was reaching for me. We were going to start making out and then we’d fall to the floor and knock over the table and the whole restaurant would stare.

He didn’t grab my hand. He picked up the spoon I’d set down beside my plate. I tried not to show my disappointment.

He cleared his throat. “That’s not what I was going to ask.”

“Of course not. Because you’re a gentleman.” Cameron had changed in the ten years since I’d seen him last, but surely he hadn’t changed that much.

“I can be a gentleman. I keep telling you I’m not a kid anymore, Dylan. I grew up.”

He had. Oh, he had. He filled out that suit much better than his scrawny, frat boy self would have. He clearly took care of himself and hit the gym regularly. I wondered when he found time for it in his busy lawyer lifestyle.

He probably found ways to make time for things he felt important. Staying in shape, this dinner with me… Hmm. That was something to consider.

Was I important to him? He’d made a lot of effort to apologize to me, but that could just be guilt. Then there was that kiss. Scorching, steamy, all consuming. It was hard to believe he didn’t give a damn about me when he could kiss me like that.

“Fine. Then what were you going to ask?” I smiled, sure I had him. Whatever question he’d been planning to ask me, it was bound to have been obscene.

Cameron blinked, and I drew in a breath.

“I was going to ask if you still donate to infomercials.”

“What?” That was not the question I’d been expecting.

“You know, those commercials with the sad music and the pictures of orphans and animals. Do you still donate to those?”

“I-” Yes, I still donated to them, when I was up too late and feeling melancholy. Usually there was also drinking involved. And crying. Lots of crying.

I tried to remember when I’d first started calling those stupid numbers. It was before I was eighteen, I knew that much. I used to steal my parent’s credit cards and pretend to be older.

How did Cameron remember that? I hadn’t even known that he knew about it.

I studied his face. He was in earnest. He really wanted to know. God, I loved him. I didn’t know if my heart would survive having a fling with him, but I knew I had to try. I’d only regret it if I didn’t seize this opportunity to be with him, even if it was only for one night.

I let my eyelids flutter and my voice drop into a husky invitation. “Why don’t you invite me back to your place and find out.”

Cameron’s knuckles went white around the spoon. “Find out what underwear you’re wearing or if you still watch infomercials?”

“Both.” I cocked an eyebrow.

Cameron was practically drooling. I had him. The question was, what to do with him?

The waiter set down the slice of chocolate cake and the check between us then disappeared, as quiet as a breath.

“One condition.” I hold up a finger. “No business. No one finds out about this, and you don’t let it interfere with our work. Agreed?”

“Agreed. Are you going to eat that cake?” Cameron’s eyes were smoldering.

My dress felt too tight around my breasts. I was breathing so hard I was likely to burst out of it. “Why. Do you want it?”

“I want you.” He slid the spoon to me.

I picked up the spoon, slid it into the cake, and took a huge bite of chocolate. It was delicious, rich, and creamy, and I knew I’d never be able to wait long enough to finish it all.

“Done,” I said. I wanted him way more than I wanted chocolate cake. I almost asked for a doggy bag, then changed my mind. It would take too long.