Hot Commodity(51)

"Music, alternative," Boston said calmly and the radio changed back to the last channel he had playing."

Cameron laughed in delight. "Awesome."

"Call Cam’s cell," Boston said next.

A moment later, ringing came from Cameron pocket. He pulled out his cell to shut it up. "Oh, this is sweet," he announced. "I’m going to have to

get me one of these."

Boston rolled his eyes.

"Hey, let me try one," Cameron said, leaning toward the center console screen. Very slowly and enunciating his words precisely, he added, "Call Florist."

When nothing happened, he frowned across the seat.

Boston smiled slightly, "I told it not to listen to you."

"Bag lick," Cameron muttered and slumped back into his seat to stare grumpily out the window.

When Cam was quiet for a full five seconds, Boston finally asked, "Isn’t Olivia the name of the woman you married in Vegas?"

Cameron glanced over at Boston and grinned. He’d been waiting for Boston to bring her up. Actually, he was surprised his good buddy had held out this long. "Liked what you saw, did you?" he taunted. "Yeah, I know how to pick ’em, huh? Even when I’m falling-down drunk and surrounded by gambling."

Boston scowled slightly, "You mean, she is the woman you married in Vegas?"

"Surprise," Cam said cheerfully. "I said I was bringing something home, didn’t I? Well, she’s it. I got a smokin’ hot wife, don’t I?"

After working with Cameron for nearly five years, Boston had learned not to be surprised by anything. So Cam didn’t expect a big reaction. But his news did makes his cousin’s eyebrows lift slightly.

"So, she’s lives in California, you meet and marry her in Las Vegas, but you bring her home from Chicago?"

Cameron scrunched up his face thoughtfully before answering, "Yup, that sounds about right."

Boston waited a moment and glanced at Cam, no doubt waiting for more of an explanation. When Cam didn’t provide one, Boston let it go. "I thought I was supposed to draft out annulment papers for you once we finished the Shaney deal."

Holding in a sigh, Cam mumbled, "Yeah, the annulment thing’s still a go. We’ve just had a little change of plans until the papers are finalized."

"So, her being naked in your bed is just…?"

"Sex," Cameron said. Then he glanced at his friend and wiggled his eyebrows. "Really good, amazing, wild sex."

Boston shot him the finger. "If it’s that great then why get an annulment?"

Cameron frowned. "Because I don’t want to be married. I thought I told you. Never again."

"Yeah, but—"

"No buts. No wife. No marriage, okay? As soon as this Shaney deal is over, I want you focusing on getting her gone. Got it?"

Boston was quiet a moment, thoughtfully digesting Cameron’s

outburst. Cam glanced over, already braced for more questions about what had gotten him into such a crappy moody. Boston liked to carp on him about his mood swings about as much as he liked to make fun of his bud for his dull fashion preferences.

"And then what happens to her?" Boston asked instead.

Cameron paused. Suddenly, he remembered what she’d looked like in the hotel room after her mother walked out of her life. He’d never seen anyone look so scared and alone before. He’d been doing good just to pull her into a hug and offer her one of his guest bedrooms for a while, when what he’d really been aching to do was make her all sorts of promises he’d never be able to keep.

There wasn’t anything permanent about Olivia in his life. He’d get his sweet loving until that ran dry, and then he was pushing the annulment through. And that was it.

He was not going to fall for her.

"I don’t know," he answered Boston. "That’s up to her."





Twelve



Olivia had been married to Cameron for nearly four weeks, yet she’d only known him a total of five days, and those couldn’t even be considered full days. Yet, she’d just been left alone in the man’s home. Okay, so she was married to said man, but that certainly didn’t mean she knew anything about Cameron Banks except for the fact he was good in bed.

Half tempted to laze the day away on his mattress, Olivia stretched and glanced about the room. He’d had it professionally decorated. The walls were a muted sage and the sheets matched the curtains with splashes of various greens and grays. It was stylish, but it wasn’t the Cameron she knew.

She’d been around interior decorators enough to know they at least tried to emulate the owner’s personality. This decorator, however, had gotten him all wrong.