But how was she supposed to proceed from here? He’d gone so far as to speak about her during his interview—speaktoher, actually. Hopefully he wouldn’t stop there.
Just then, she heard something coming from the top of the stairs. A man clearing his throat. She peeked over the stack of boxes she carried and caught sight of a tall, dark, and seriously gorgeous man in a three-piece suit. The very suit he’d been wearing on live TV.
“James?” His name carried all the surprise she felt at the sight of him.
He cracked a wide grin. “Camila.” It had been several days since she’d heard him say her name, in person anyway, that deep voice, complete with accent and all. She’d missed it.
Camila knew well that certain views could take her breath away, but seeing James standing in front of her place in all his suit-and-tie glory? That took her mobility too. It must have, because she’d stopped walking altogether.
“Hi,” she squeaked.
James hurried down the steps and moved across the walkway with long, purposeful strides.
It was a good thing she had the crates to keep her arms occupied, because every fiber in her wanted to wrap them around James, pull him in for a long, satisfying embrace, and breathe in his heavenly smell.
“Can I help you get these inside?” He didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, James positioned himself before her and slipped his arms under the crates alongside hers.
At once the weight was lifted, and James moved into place beside her. “What floor are you on? The top one?”
She liked that he remembered that; she’d mentioned it once. “Yes.”
“I’ve been guessing that the one up there, with the blue and white hammock, is yours.”
She grinned as she followed his gaze to the upper corner. “Was it really the hammock that gave me away, or all the potted herbs our neighbor had to water for us while Gypsy and I were gone?”
He grinned. “Both.”
The conversation was put on pause as Camila led James to the elevator, down the brightly lit hall, and into her quiet apartment.
Her mind was a different story though. Suddenly, it started some sort of monologue. Rehearsing all types of terrible things James might say to her. She worked to get it under control.Hope, Camila. Focus on hope.Had she already forgotten his interview? That said it all, didn’t it?
“Is right here good?” James asked.
Camila closed her apartment door and spun to see the crates hovered over her kitchen counter.
“Yes,” she blurted. “That’s perfect. Thank you.”
James set them in place before stepping away from the counter. He glanced about the place for a bit, prompting a whole new monologue to run through her mind. Something like:What kind of crappy place is this?
A smile pulled at his lips. “It’s nice in here,” he said softly. “Your apartment…it looks like you.” He strode to the side table and leaned down to study the picture she had framed. An image of Camila and her mother. Just a candid one Grandpa took at her fifth birthday party.
“Wow,” he said with the shake of his head. “You look a lot alike. She’s beautiful.”
Camila nodded. “Thank you.” A bout of nerves rushed through her as he stepped over to the bookcase next, eyeing the large selection of books.
“Let me guess, this side—with all the holistic type stuff is Gypsy’s. And this…” He leaned closer to inspect the books on that side. “With all the culinary books and romance novels must be yours.”
“Right.” Camila had never come out and told James of her love for romance novels, but he’d caught her curled up with a few during their stay at the resort. “Should we sit?” Camila asked before he started wandering toward the bedrooms. The truth was, she was anxious to get this part—whatever it might entail—behind her.
“Sure.” He strode across her living room in all his glory, looking out of place in the modest surrounding. Which raised yet another inward doubt about their fate as a couple.
He sank into the couch and gave the cushion beside him a pat.
A new knot of nerves kicked to life. “Should I make some tea?” she asked, suddenly desperate to put off the talk.
“In a minute.” James gave the couch another pat. He attempted a smile, she could tell that much, but the look in his eyes gave him away—James was anxious too.
A tight gulp slunk down her throat. “Okay.”
