At once, she recalled the first time James invited her to join him for breakfast. The sincere apology he’d offered over what Adel had done. A whirlwind of memories followed. Everything from their first, playful kiss on the beach, to the moment James had confessed his love for her.
It had been such a beautiful love story.
The vision of a future with him had been so clear, as crazy as that was with their differences. But the things that mattered—what they wanted out of life—those things were the same. Of course, she didn’t share his obsession for watermelon…
A bout of laughter spilled from her lips. “He’s obsessed with that freaking watermelon.” She shook her head, picturing the many times she’d seen him sneaking into the kitchen for the stash she’d placed in the fridge. The way he turned into a foodie while grading the quality of each new melon.
And suddenly the smiles and laughter were gone. Replaced by a flow of tears and sobs as the pain struck at last—a sudden ache ripping through her chest.
James was gone.
He wasn’t part of her today, and he wouldn’t be part of her tomorrow. Even worse, the joy she’d felt in all the yesterdays—that was tarnished. It was like discovering the end to a book while reading along the way. Only to find that it wouldn’t give her the happily ever after she’d hoped for.
Her thoughts rushed back to her last moments at the villa. The rush to get out of there in her frazzled state. The busy hustle of getting to the airport. The day was all but gone, and it was only now hitting her.
In a way, it was a relief. The inevitable grieving process had begun. Who knew how long it would last, or if she’d ever fully recover from a loss so deep, especially when that loss was based on a total misunderstanding.
Her mind flashed to a moment when she and Gypsy had been sitting in this very spot just before she left. It was when Gypsy discovered the video clip of James losing his cool on the show. A recollection sparked in her mind, but slipped away before Camila could grip hold of it.
It was probably nothing. Yet as she lifted the mug to her lips, inhaling the scent of her tea, it came back to her. Gypsy’s off comment:Good thing you never got onto that show. He probably would have bit your head off.
“Wait…” Camila said as it came together in her mind. Gypsy had been known to do some pretty sneaky things. Especially if she felt it would better the life of a friend. So that led to one very important question. One she wouldn’t have an answer to until Gypsy got home: Had her friend filled out a form for The Lion’s Den on Camila’s behalf?
Chapter 22
James scrolled down the screen on his laptop, eyes aching and dry as he checked the numbers of one of his recent rescue attempts from The Lion’s Den—a large industrial plant that was finally starting to work its way back into the black. Not much had changed since he scrutinized the numbers yesterday, but it was good to keep a close eye on them. Perhaps he should take a second look at the others too. A quick glance at the clock said it’d been over twelve hours since he’d done so.
That glance also said that he should have left the office hours ago, but James couldn’t pull himself away from the leather chair, oak desk, and the rest of the setting that gave his brain the very crucial message that it was time to focus on things of business—not personal. Not Camila Lopez, the woman who—despite his greatest efforts—still owned the lion’s share of his heart.
Back at home, James could let his mind wander to the dimple that sank into her cheek when she grinned at him. The way she’d talk about food in that low, sultry voice. The way she ran her fingers through his hair when they kissed…
He cleared his throat and straightened in his seat, hoping to banish the images from his brain. This was his safe place, after all.Yeah, right.
Since he’d left the villa a week ago, shortly after Camila took her exit, James had discovered therewereno safe places. There was no escape from the hellish torment of what he’d both gained and lost in the space of three and a half weeks.
At one point, Duke had said that what happened at the Royal Palm was supposed to stay at the Royal Palm. So much for that idea. The office had been bombarded with phone calls and emails alike with inquiries about his relationship with the pretty private chef from the Royal Palm. That in itself wasn’t the problem. What James hated most about the questions involving his relationship is that there was no longer a relationship to speak of.
James’ cell phone gave out a quiet buzz from where it sat, face up, on the desk. A text.
Stephanie:Almost done burning the midnight oil? How about we grab a drink?
A knot of dread came over him as he reread the text. As if the act would suddenly change his answer. Stephanie was a hard worker, one who rarely left the office before he did. The two had grabbed drinks after work more times than he could count. He was usually anxious to rehash the latest digits after a long day at work, and who better to do that with than someone who knew every company he was dealing with, win or fail.
Just do it, James. Maybe it will help you get out of your head.He nodded, surprised he was even considering it. In one sense, he was still angry with her. But the better part of him knew he was bitter more than anything else. And Stephanie wasn’t the cause of that.
Besides, what could it hurt? It was better than going home to his empty house and obsessing over his breakup for the rest of the night.
James:Sure. Give me another ten minutes to wrap things up.
Stephanie sent back a thumbs-up emoji. James stared at it while a recollection came to mind. One he’d tried very hard to bury over the last week. It was just that—Camila had said there was something she’d been meaning to tell him. Something other than what he’d hoped she’d reveal. But he hadn’t yet discovered what that was. On more than one occasion, James had assumed it was probably the very detail Stephanie had been trying to share. All it would take was a simple question, and James would have his answer. He was well aware of that fact. But he hadn’t been willing to ask. Hadn’t been ready to hear.
But now, after a week had gone by since he’d looked into those brown eyes, heard her tempt him with her latest culinary creation, James was aching for more of Camila. Even if it was details he might wish he hadn’t known.
During his flight back to LA, James had gone over every detail of Camila’s application—the one she’d denied ever sending. It turned out that—while she owed money for her school loans—she didn’t meet the minimum requirement for the show. So she’d requested the producers give the difference to her favorite charity instead. A program designed to help foster kids in the community.
James wasted no time in researching the charity himself. Camila had arranged to conduct monthly cooking classes with the local kids in foster care, involving other chefs in the area too. Not only that, Camila had—according to a news article he’d found—lined up a list of other opportunities as well. Music lessons by talented musicians willing to donate their time, local photographers, artists, and more.
At one point, she’d even appeared on a morning news program where she cooked with the kids in front of the camera. Halloween treats for an upcoming fundraiser the station was promoting last year.
