When You Are Mine(17)

"After that, Mom got arrested when she approached some undercover cop  posing as a john. I saw her only one more time after that. She signed  all her parental rights away and I got tossed into foster care."

"And how was foster care?" Kerris was afraid to unearth anything worse than what he had already revealed.

"Not bad." He shrugged like a man who knew what bad really looked like.  "In the first one, there was this guy who liked punching on me, but  nobody was ever gonna have me by the balls again like Mac did. I told my  social worker, and she got me out of there. Put me with these really  sweet folks I stayed with until I graduated high school. They moved to  Florida my freshman year of college, but we still talk from time to  time. They're the ones who found out about the Walsh Foundation's summer  camp."

She smiled at how his face relaxed when he talked about that first  summer. How he and Walsh had rubbed each other the wrong way, only to  become best friends. How Jo was the sister he'd never had.

"And Ms. Kris." His features softened in a way reserved for Walsh's  mother. "I hadn't ever met anyone like her. Walsh has no idea how lucky  he is to have her."

"They're like family to you."

"They're not family, though, Kerris." He leaned forward in the small  boat, capturing one of her hands still floating in the water. "I love  them, but they're not my family. That's what I want with you. Even with  them, I didn't belong to them. My mom was the only person I ever  belonged to, and she sold me out for crack."

Kerris understood parental betrayal, when the person everything in  nature dictated should preserve and protect you had abandoned and hurt  you the most.

"I want you to be my only." Cam stripped every barrier away from his  eyes, leaving them wide open and vulnerable. "The only other person on  earth I belong to, and who belongs to me. And then we can start a family  from scratch. Something we never had."

If she'd never met Walsh, never gotten caught with him in an electric  storm, she would have told Cam yes with no hesitation. She had resigned  herself to a marriage where the greatest fruit would be their children,  expecting no real pleasure, no rush of emotion at the sight of her  spouse. What a bitter irony that the man who cracked open the emotion  she dammed away could never be hers.

Cam's phone ringing jarred her, pulling her eyes to meet his considering  stare. He didn't look away even when he reached in his pocket for his  phone.

"Yeah." He listened and released a short breath, squeezing the bridge of  his nose. "Okay, I'll be right there. Gimme a few minutes. I'm at  lunch."                       
       
           



       

He ended the call and started rowing swiftly back toward the bank.

"Everything okay?"

"Just a glitch with that project I thought was wrapped." Cam's strong  shoulders flexed with the force of his exertions. "I think fixing this  thing might take the rest of the afternoon. This client keeps making  changes."

"It's okay. Drop me off at my apartment. Do you need me to meet you at the party?"

"No way. I'm picking you up and we're riding together. I want to be the  first to see you. I know once you're there and all dressed up, I'll have  to fight 'em off."

"I doubt that. All those women tonight will be dressed up in couture. I'll be in dime vintage. No comparison."

"You got that right." Cam's smile, so tender and open, jerked her heart  around like an errant kite with a guilty tail. "I can guarantee there  won't be any comparison."

They zipped over to her apartment on his Harley. She pressed her cheek against Cam's back and wrapped her arms around him.

He was a good man. His edges were rough, his mouth was foul, and before  he met her, he'd been a player. But when he looked at her, he made her  feel that everything he'd ever wanted in the whole world was standing in  front of him. If she had still been a praying woman, she would have  asked God if He could please, please, please make her feel the same.





Chapter Thirteen



Walsh glanced around the room, searching for one petite woman who could  easily be lost in the crowd assembled for his mother's birthday. The  large room sparkled, the crystals of the chandeliers overhead vying for  shine with the overdecorated women laden with diamonds. The room had  been cleared of all furniture, giving everyone room to mingle and  preparing them for later, for the dancing his mother loved so much.

He would have preferred a barbecue out back in the yard leading down to  the river, just family and a few close friends. Not his mother. Not for  her fiftieth birthday. She had turned this special occasion into a  charity extravaganza, packed wall to wall with big spenders who'd trade  their cold, hard cash for the chance to rub up against the high-profile  partygoers Kristeene Bennett could bring together.

Jo walked up beside him, wearing high-waisted black satin tuxedo pants  and an emerald green blouse that molded the sleek muscles of her arms  and peekabooed her generous cleavage. Walsh looked frighteningly like  his father, but Jo could easily be Kristeene Bennett's daughter. Same  dark hair, streaked with burned chestnut. Same impossibly high regal  cheekbones. Dark brows arching in her creamy skin. Two things set Jo  apart. Where his mother's eyes were hazel, Jo had Uncle James's  startling gray, nearly silver eyes. And though Jo was tall and lean like  his mother, she curved more, especially in the hips and butt. Walsh  glared at some idiot he caught staring at his cousin's ass.

Jo flashed Walsh a knowing grin.

"Leave the poor man alone."

Walsh frowned, grabbing her hand and folding it over his forearm.

"I'll never get used to guys eyeing you like a piece of meat."

"At least someone does." Jo twisted her lips and slid him a sideways  glance, moving on before he had a chance to probe. "So who were you  looking for?"

And just like his mother, Jo had a way of disarming him. Lulling him into forgetting just how damn sharp she was.

"No one in particular." Walsh made his face as bland as beige. "You?"

"No one in particular." Jo looked up at him, the silence making him  uncomfortable before she relaxed her mouth into a smile. "Your mom's in  heaven. All this money in one room, all locked, loaded, and aimed at her  favorite cause."

"I was thinking the same thing." Walsh pulled her close enough to drop a  kiss on her forehead. "I was also thinking how much alike the two of  you are. You look beautiful tonight, by the way."

Some hybrid of surprise and disbelief flitted across Jo's smooth  features. He leaned in closer, considering for the first time that Jo,  his fortress during his parents' tumultuous divorce and his rock in the  madhouse life he led now, might not know how awesome she was.                       
       
           



       

"Is there someone you're looking for, Jo?"

She'd know he didn't just mean at the party tonight. She'd definitely  had romantic interests through the years. He and Cam had vetted every  one of them, fiercely protective of their Jo. If Cam was the brother  he'd never had, Jo was certainly the sister.

"I'm not looking." She smoothed the sleek cap of hair that had grown to  hang just above her shoulders. "I'm too busy trying to get you and Cam  settled. There'll be plenty of time later to figure out my own  situation."

"I'm not settling down any time soon."

"That's not how Sofie tells it." Her laugh told him how his face must look. "Would it really be so bad to marry a supermodel?"

"Look, Sof and I have been friends forever. She's great. She's just not my type."

"I thought your type was willing and breathing."

"This is me you're talking about, not Cam."

"Cam has been a one-woman man for some time now." Jo looked over his  shoulder, a tight smile tugging at her lips and dulling her eyes to  pewter. "And that one woman is on his arm right now."

Walsh glanced to the doorway, where Cam and Kerris were laughing with  his mother. What a picture Kerris made in her yellow dress. A lemon iced  confection that would melt in his mouth. Sweet and tart.

A white orchid nestled behind her ear, contrasting against the rumpled  elegance of the dark hair pulled up and away from her face. A beaded  bodice topped the strapless dress, and a nipped waist flared to an  A-line skirt floating just below her knees.

His stomach roller-coastered. All the blood in his body migrated south  and pushed against the zipper of his tailored slacks. He fought the urge  to retreat up the stairs to his room like some teenager suffering from  his first crush.