I stare at the bouncing flames hovering just above the embers. Warmth washes over me, and to my surprise, I’m comfortable. It’s been a long time since I curled up by a fireplace. I always loved the warm glow and soft light of a fire. It’s relaxing and romantic. I try to focus on that thought instead of all the fear my mind is fixating on. Only nothing is relaxing or romantic about freezing in my own house, and I lose the battle against fear.
Sleep starts to weigh my eyelids, and my thoughts clear. I snuggle into the thick layer of blankets and smile. This isn’t so bad. The only thing that would make this night better is a pair of strong, warm arms wrapped around me.
For the first time in two years, I don’t think of my husband. I picture Adam curled up next to me instead—my body tucking in close to his, his face nuzzling my neck, and his arms holding me close and keeping me warm.
CHAPTER 7
ADAM
With my hands in my pockets, I wait for Camille to answer her door.
Today is day one of her renovation, and I can’t wait to get started. Not only am I excited about this project, and the great addition it will make to my portfolio, but I’m looking forward to working closely with Camille.
Almost. Every. Day.
This project will take months, and I’ll spend most of my workdays here managing the construction. The thought of seeing Camille that often makes me smile.
But right now, I’m freezing my ass off standing on her front porch. I knock again and wait.
God, I can’t wait to see her. It’s been too long since our last meeting, but life and other work kept getting in the way. I’m not sure what makes me happier—the project or the prospect of seeing Camille so often.
That’s not true. I know it’s Camille.
I’ve only spent a few hours with her over the course of several weeks, but it didn’t take long to figure out she’s special. I shouldbe more guarded with my emotions and focus on the project, not the woman behind the project. But I can’t help myself. It’s not often a woman catches my eye.
That woman captivates me. In a few short weeks, she’s managed to take up permanent residence in my mind. A day doesn’t go by when I don’t think about her at least once.Who am I kidding? More like multiple times a day, plus in my dreams.
My dreams are the worst. I’ve woken up hard every morning this past week in anticipation of today. I’ve dreamt about all the places and ways I could take her. In her kitchen on the center island that has seen better days. Or in her bathroom in that large tub that looks more like a hot tub from the seventies. Or in front of the fireplace with nothing beneath us but a soft blanket—our bodies providing all the warmth we need.
Dammit, my erection is pressing against my jeans and it's starting to hurt.
Lusting over a client won’t do. Especially when that client is still struggling with the loss of her husband. A husband I have no doubt she loved very much.
“Clean thoughts, Adam. Clean thoughts.” I take a deep breath of cold air and knock again. With my mind heading in the wrong direction, I’ve lost track of how long I’ve been waiting outside. It’s colder than typical for this time of year. It’s not uncommon for a snowstorm to blow through in early spring, but these freezing temperatures don’t usually come with it. It feels more like the dead of winter than the start of spring.
A good twelve inches of snow fell through the night. Any more than that, and I would have had to delay the start of this project. But the plow trucks were out early clearing the roads, and her driveway is passable for my work truck.
The cold is starting to chill my bones. I knock again. She should have answered by now.
I listen for sounds of movement on the other side of the door.
Silence.
One more loud knock.
I check the time. Five minutes after seven. I’m not early. We confirmed the start time two days ago after exchanging a few text messages. This seems out of character for her. In the few weeks I’ve been working with her, she’s never been late or missed a deadline.
I pull out my phone and shoot her a quick text. Maybe something came up, and she had to leave. That doesn’t sound like something she’d do without communicating, but emergencies happen. Though my tracks are the only ones in the snow.
I wait a few minutes with no response.
Dread fills me as my mind starts to wander down a negative path. What if something happened to her? What if she’s hurt?
“Fuck.” I hate doing this without her permission, but I take the spare key she gave me and let myself in.
I shiver when I step into her foyer, and it's just as cold inside as it is outside.
“Camille.” I listen for any sounds or movements before I step toward the stairs. “Camille! Are you here?”
