He’d learned tactics to keep from getting flustered to that degree, but Camila’s close proximity was making it hard. She smelled good too.Verygood. A subtle perfume perhaps, both sweet and tangy, a combination of innocence and allure.
“I’m going to make this easy,” he said while closing the leather fold. “I’ll let you pick out the menu based on what you like best. How’s that?” He lifted his gaze to catch her eye.
Camila tipped her head to one side. The small furrow at her brow said she might not love the idea as much as he did. Had he offended her?
“It all looks so good,” he added, holding out the menu for her.
She looked at it, tapped a few keys on his phone, and then handed it to him in exchange for the menu. “Okay.” She walked toward the hallway but stopped in her tracks. “Why don’t you text me the meal schedule you’d like for tomorrow.”
He pointed at her. “Another good idea.” Why was he being so lame? “I’ll do that. Oh, and I know I didn’t pick menu items or anything, but you know that beet salad you made at Shimwah’s gathering?”
Her brown eyes went wide. “Yes…”
“Could you make that? I really liked it.”
“Sure.” Camila nodded, a bit of confusion playing over her face.
“Oh, and my private chef back at home always cuts up a watermelon for me every few days. He puts it in the fridge for me. Think you could do the same?”
She nodded. “You like watermelon?”
“Remember that school-aged joke about loving something so much you could marry it?”
Camila’s brow furrowed, but she gave him another nod just the same.
“Well, yeah. That’s what everyone said I should marry. Watermelon.” Boy, did he sound stupid.
James wasn’t sure why he wanted to keep her from going so soon. Perhaps it was to move beyond the distance she’d placed between them. Funny thing was, it was usually James who set the barriers. Tall and wide ones.
“Well,” she said, smiling just enough to reveal a dimple in her cheek. A very cute dimple. “I’ll have some cut up for you within the hour. Help yourself.”
“Thank you,” he said, feeling unsettled even still. For some reason, he wanted Camila to relax around him. To smile, maybe, over something he said. To make herself at home in the very least.
“Camila?” he blurted as something came to mind.
She glanced over her shoulder. “Yes?”
“I wanted to make sure they told you that…that I’d like you to enjoy the amenities while you’re here. Not only the beach, of course, but there’s a workout room, a pool out back…”
Another nod. Another perplexed expression.
“Thank you. And Cyree said there would be a housekeeper staying here as well.”
Oh no, had she been planning on having a fellow service worker here with her? James raked a hand through his hair as he replied. “The housekeeper is a fulltime employee of the Royal Palm, which means she has her own living space already. Outside of the villa.”
When Camila didn’t respond right away, he hurried to add to it. “But she’ll be in and out a few times throughout the day, so it won’talwaysjust be the two of us.”Shut the crud up, James!
Her shoulders went a bit higher, tighter, as she sucked in a breath. An odd knot of concern snuck in during the quiet moment. Would she say she didn’t want to stay under those conditions?
Maybe. But who cared if she did? What difference would it make to him whether she stayed or not?
Finally, she nodded, her pretty face unreadable even still. “Okay.” She spun around without another word and stepped out of the room.
James stared at the doorway moments after she left, trying to dissect what was going on with him. What was he feeling for this woman? Pity? No, he couldn’t pity a woman as strong and determined as Camila seemed to be.
He shook his head, bringing his phone to eye level, anxious to see the message she’d sent herself from his phone.
This is James Benton’s number,was all it said. Which made sense. Why should it say more than that? She was just getting his number in her phone. And now he had hers. Warmth stirred in his belly at the idea. He found himself wanting to know more about her. Who she was. What she was like outside of work.
