Catching The Corporate Playboy. Michele Dunaway
I’m sorry,” Darci said. She half listened as Chad talked about people they’d known during their years in an exclusive co-ed prep school. She didn’t care what they did for a living, and she prayed Chad wouldn’t ask her what she did.
“So, Darci, you working at Jacobsen?”
“No,” she said quickly. “What about Candi? Didn’t you date her, too? What’s she doing these days?”
Relief flooded her, and she visibly sagged when Chad began gossiping about Candi’s latest boob job. Engaged in a topic he obviously liked, Chad wouldn’t give away Darci’s secret. “She married a plastic surgeon,” he said as they reached Cameron’s car, now parked next to one of St. Louis’s finest. “I guess she can have as many procedures as she wants.”
“Well,” Darci said. She gripped her waitress cap and twisted it in her hands. “It’s been great seeing you again, Chad. Thanks again.”
“Oh, think nothing of it. You were my last call. I’m off, and after I go get some pellers, I’m heading for the lake. I’ve got some R & R days so I thought I’d go fish for a few.”
Cameron’s car beeped and the lights blinked as he deactivated the alarm on the convertible. “Darci?” he asked pointedly. The remote dangled from his fingers.
“Yes,” she said, stepping aside so he could open her door. “It was great seeing you, Chad. Have fun at the lake.”
“I will.” Chad slid the aviator shades on his face and climbed into his car. He followed them out of the parking lot, down the main road, and then they parted as Cameron entered Highway 55.
“So, you know him,” Cameron said. Darci cringed slightly. Did she detect a layer of steel underneath his voice?
“We went to high school together.”
“You seemed quite chummy.”
“Not really,” Darci chewed on the edge of her damaged nail. “I helped him do his homework so he could make the grades and stay on the football team. I’m not as dumb as I look, you know.”
“Did I say you were dumb?” Cameron shot back, pulling off at the Riverfront exit. “I just found it interesting that you’d taken me to a park frequented by prostitutes.”
“Well, it didn’t used to be that way.” With that retort she bit her lip, kept quiet, and watched the scenery go by. They drove past the Arch and the Old Cathedral parking lot before Cameron turned left, crossed over Highway 70, and whipped the car into the Adam’s Mark drive.
Uh-oh. This was not good. “What are we doing here?”
“Going to my suite,” Cameron replied tightly as he shifted the car into park.
“For what? You said you were going to take me home!”
“We’re going to talk,” he bit out as the valet opened the door.
“Look, we don’t need to talk. You kissed me. Big deal. A good sunrise will do that to a person.”
He shot her a dark look. “We are going to talk,” he repeated, “and I want to be somewhere where I won’t be accused of being a john!”
The valet opening her door raised his eyebrow and Darci swallowed a mortified groan as she hopped out of the convertible.
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