Camden (The Casanova Club Book 13) Read online

  But Camden nodded all the same. “I’d like that too.”

  “You’re sure?”

  He chuckled. It took me by surprise, partly because I didn’t find anything humorous in me baring my soul to him, and partly because it was the first time I’d heard him laugh since I arrived last week. It was a pleasant sound. A warm sound.

  “Did you have something in mind you’d like to do together?” he asked.

  “Maybe,” I said. But I doubted he’d enjoy himself.

  “Well, what is it?” he asked.

  “I’d like to do something festive.”

  He chuckled again, and then he nodded, and the gesture looked like a forfeit more than a willing agreement. “All right. Something festive, it is. Did you have something specific in mind?”

  “I have a couple things up my sleeve.”

  “Of course, you do,” he mused.

  I bit my lip. “Christmas doesn’t have to be what it used to be, you know?”

  He stood up and went to his office chair where his suit jacket was draped over the back. He shrugged into it, and every movement he made showed off something to be desired. He exuded masculinity and class, and I couldn’t take my eyes off him as he walked to the back of his door and plucked his winter coat from a hook on the back of it. He put that on, too.

  I stood up as well. “All traditions start somewhere. You can make new memories, you know? You can make Christmas into what you want it to be. I think that’s what adults forget. It’s in our hands to make the holidays special. If we let them pass without making any effort? Well. They’ll be the letdown you expect them to be.”

  The corner of his mouth curled in a smile. “You believe I think Christmas is a letdown?”

  I shrugged. “I have no idea what you think.”

  He seemed to appreciate that answer because he smiled at me as he pulled open his office door. “Not yet you don’t.” He gestured out into the hallway, motioning for me to go ahead. I did. He closed and locked his office door behind us, and then he turned toward me, and we walked down the hall side by side.

  He towered over me. The other men had all been tall, but Camden was a giant. For such a big man, he moved with surprising grace.

  His receptionist bid us farewell before we stepped onto the elevator, and then the doors sealed us inside. Alone.

  “So where are you taking me, Piper James?” Camden asked, his voice colored with amusement.

  I smiled at the closed doors before us. “You’ll see.”

  He slid his hands into his pockets. I could feel him watching me out of the corner of his eye, and I hated the feeling rolling around in my stomach. The familiar, gut-wrenching tickle of something new. Something exciting.

  I should’ve up and left when I first had the urge to do so.

  When we hit the ground floor, we wove through the crowded lobby and emerged on the cold, jam-packed New York City street. Pedestrians snaked around us, their shoulders grazing ours, bundled up in their winter coats with hats pulled down over their ears to ward off the chill in the crisp night air.

  It wasn’t presently snowing, but the forecast predicted a few inches would coat the ground overnight. That meant we’d be waking up to a winter wonderland tomorrow, and tonight was the perfect opportunity to take the first step in ringing in Christmas together.

  I took Camden’s hand and pulled him down the sidewalk. He followed for the briefest amount of time before stepping out in front of me. He still held my hand in his, and he used his wide frame to clear the sea of pedestrians who’d been bumping into me. I was grateful for the protection behind his body as we went the opposite way of foot traffic.

  Then we came to the edge of the curb, and he hailed us a cab. I told the driver which intersection to take us to, and Camden watched me with a curious glint in his eyes as I put my seatbelt on. Fifteen minutes later, we pulled up to a roped-off sidewalk shop selling one thing and one thing only: Christmas trees.

  Camden extracted himself from the cab one long leg at a time and then stood back to stare at the trees. “Sneaky trick.”

  I grinned at him. “Come on. You’ll enjoy yourself. We can order cider. Or hot chocolate.”

  “Hot chocolate?” He arched an eyebrow at me.

  I giggled and looped an arm through his. “What? Are you too cool to drink hot chocolate, Mr. Wood?”

  Camden’s dark eyes reflected the multicolored Christmas lights strung up around the roped fences. His sharp jaw cast his throat into a dark shadow, and the creases in his brow spoke of his genuine distaste for the holiday.

  I hoped I wasn’t pushing too far.

  I also hoped he would be able to see things differently after our time together. Whatever happened in his life to make him hate Christmas was no longer serving him. I refused to believe the man I met last year was this stoic and cold Scrooge. There was more to him under the surface, and I knew with a little bit of searching, I could find what lay beneath the surface.

  And it all started with a cup of hot chocolate and shopping for the perfect tree.

  Chapter 8

  Camden

  “You’re sure this is the one you like?” I asked, standing back and stroking my chin.

  Piper walked in a circle around a particularly large spruce tree with her hands on her hips, her eyes glistening with eagerness. She reminded me of a lioness stalking her prey. A very lithe, languid, sexy lioness. With big doe eyes and a pink nose from the cold.

  “I’m sure.” She nodded decisively and fell back to stand beside me. “What? Do you disagree?”

  “No,” I said. “No. I don’t have grounds to disagree. I don’t really know what makes for a good tree.”

  “Well,” Piper said slowly. She reached out and ran her fingers along the needles. “Color, of course. There are no browning needles. No dryness. It’s bright and green. A density. Look how full it is.” Piper spun back toward me, and her hair fanned out all around her before settling back down the length of her back. I wondered how she’d managed to capture the magic of a season I’d always hated in her smile. “Do you see?”

  “Sure,” I said. Truth be told, I hadn’t really been paying much attention to the tree. To me, it was just a tree. A wide, tall, ‘pain in the ass to bring into the house’ tree.

  But the girl that liked said tree?

  Well. There was a lot to be said about her now that I was finally paying attention.

  Piper clasped her hands together and rested her chin upon her knuckles. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m getting the feeling that this is the tree we’re going to take back to your house.”

  “If it’s the one you want.”

  “It is.”

  I sighed. “Then let’s find someone who works here to sell it to us.”

  Piper let out a delighted squeal of a sound. Then she shuffled off down the aisle between other trees that looked identical to the one she’d fallen in love with. Well, minus a couple of bare patches and tired-looking branches. Maybe there was some merit to her argument that this was the perfect tree.

  As she tracked down someone we could pay for the tree, I inspected it on my own. It had wide full branches that left space for ornaments without looking sparse. Ornaments.

  Shit. I didn’t have any of those.

  I didn’t have a tree topper, either.

  What other sorts of things did people need for a tree? A skirt? Garland? Ribbon? Lights?

  I didn’t have any such things. It was an intentional choice. And now all of a sudden, I found myself in urgent need of them.

  “This fucking holiday,” I grumbled.

  Piper returned with a bushy-bearded man with auburn hair and a belly earned from what I assumed had to have been a greedy sweet tooth. He was soft all over with cheeks as red as the tip of Piper’s nose. His name was Fred, and he seemed more than a little enamored by Piper.

  She, of course, was oblivious to the way he smiled at her.

  “How much?” I asked when Fred playfully poked Piper’s side. />
  She rubbed at her ribs and scowled at me. “Fred and I already discussed price. A hundred dollars.”

  I pulled my wallet out of the inside pocket of my jacket and fished out a hundred-dollar bill. I pressed it into Fred’s palm and then added another fifty-dollar bill. “Keep the change. Will that buy me a delivery for tomorrow to The Laurient tower?”

  Fred closed his meaty fingers around the paper bills. “Yes, sir.”

  “Excellent. Piper, shall we?”

  Piper turned toward Fred and put her hand on his elbow. “Thank you for your help. Merry Christmas.”

  Fred smiled. “Merry Christmas, dear.”

  I held out my arm, and Piper threaded her hands through the crook of my elbow. As I led her out of the tree garden and back out onto the sidewalk, she peered up at me, her lips pressed together thoughtfully.

  “Yes?” I asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Liar.”

  She laughed softly but left it alone. We caught another cab and took it back to my place, where we climbed the stairs to the elevator. Piper’s eyes danced up at the Christmas tree on the landing like she was seeing it for the first time when I knew full well it was not. Despite her infatuation with the tree, she followed me onto the elevator, and we rode up to my suite.

  Once inside, I shrugged out of my jacket and hung it in the hallway closet. Piper did the same. Then she stepped out of her boots and wiggled her toes in her dark-gray wool socks. “My feet are so cold, I can’t even feel my toes.”

  I put a hand against her back. “We’ll sit in front of the fire and warm up. Can I get you something? A cup of tea?”

  Piper gazed up at me. “Tea would be nice. Thank you.”

  Tea, it was.

  She went upstairs to change into something “cozier,” as she put it, and I set to boiling the kettle and fixing tea. By the time the tea was steeping, Piper returned in a pair of thick gray sweatpants and a tight long-sleeved black shirt. She had her slippers on, complete with little sprigs of holly all over them, and they shuffled across my floors as she came to meet me in the kitchen.

  She watched me as I fetched milk and sugar.

  “I’m surprised I didn’t have to fight harder for the tree,” she said.

  “It’s just a tree.”

  Her dark eyebrow arched. “Just a tree? And here I was thinking you believed it represented evil incarnate.”

  I laughed.

  She leaned back with an expression of mock surprise. “Was that genuine laughter?”

  “I am capable of being amused.”

  “I’m sorry. I just wasn’t sure.” She gave me a knowing little smirk. I doubted she had any clue how cute she looked. “But I’m glad to hear it. You have a nice laugh.”

  “As do you.”

  I poured two mugs of piping-hot tea. Piper stirred a splash of milk and a teaspoon of sugar into her cup, while I sipped mine plain. We retired to the living room, where she seemed content to sit for only a couple of minutes before she was up and moving again, painting a dramatic canvas with her imagination of how she wanted to set the tree up when it arrived tomorrow.

  “I think this is the best spot,” she said matter-of-factly while planting her feet. She stood in front of one of the windows, her back to it, between two armchairs off to the side of the fireplace. “It’ll cast a beautiful reflection on the windowpane. And beside the fire…” She trailed off as she gazed at the steadily crackling flames. She rested her hand on her stomach as her eyes glazed over. Even a blind man would have known she was recalling a memory. I wondered what her childhood looked like. It would undoubtedly be a stark contrast to mine. “Well. It will be the kind of Christmas all children dream about. And grown women, apparently.”

  I wished there was a way to light the same fire in my gut that had burned when I first met Piper last December. She was this bright light that washed out the haze of Christmas hanging off of everything and everyone. A pleasant and welcome reprieve from the holiday spirit. Things felt easier then. Now, a whole year later, it was my turn with her, and I couldn’t help but feel detached. It was as if I was running on autopilot and nothing sank in.

  It was just numb. And gray. And lukewarm.

  Which was exactly how I felt about Christmas, too.

  When I finished my tea, I set the mug down on the end table. I proceeded to watch Piper as her mind conjured up images of what my house would look like if Christmas were to swallow it whole.

  “Piper,” I said. She turned toward me. “I have an office Christmas party later this month. It would be nice to share it with you. If you’d like to come with me, of course. As my date.”

  Her lips curled upward. “I would like that very much.”

  “Then it’s settled.” A chill left my heart. It could’ve been my mind playing tricks on me, but it was refreshing nonetheless. Maybe this year was my chance to turn over a new leaf. And as Piper had said back in my office, there were always opportunities to create new traditions and build new memories to look back on with fondness instead of resentment.

  Well, she hadn’t used so many words, but that was how I’d interpreted it.

  “What else would you do with the place?” I asked, nodding at the fireplace. “The fireplace has sparked ideas, I’m sure.”

  Piper bit her bottom lip and nodded. “Yes. Definitely. I’d hang garland and string up lights. Something classically simple so it wouldn’t compete with the brick. I’d fill it with candles. And hang knit stockings.”

  “And the rest of the place?”

  She laughed. “Careful. You’re opening a whole can of worms here.”

  “Consider me warned.” I got to my feet. “Tell me what else you would do. I want to see it through your eyes.”

  Piper’s cheeks turned pink as she gazed up at me. Her pulse fluttered at her throat, and she swallowed a couple of times before finally lending her voice to her thoughts. She proceeded to walk through my living room, telling me where she would hang lights and wreaths, and I followed her into the kitchen and dining room.

  She had ideas for everything.

  “I want you to create it,” I told her.

  Piper cocked her head to the side, puzzled. “Create what?”

  “Your vision. Decorate the place how you see fit. I’ll fund the project.”

  Her eyes widened a little. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

  “I think I have a pretty good idea.”

  Her smile was full of joy and mischief. I loved it. “If you give me free rein, you’ll be walking into the North Pole every time you come home from work. Is that really what you want?”

  I shrugged. “I haven’t lived in a house with Christmas decorations since I was eleven years old. I can’t see a reason why I shouldn’t seize this opportunity to make up for lost time. Can you?”

  She shook her head. “No. No, I can’t.”

  “Then it’s settled. You’re in charge of decorating. You’ll go out tomorrow. I’ll send a driver for you. And I’ll give you my credit card.”

  “You’re sure? This feels… a little indulgent.” She laughed a little nervously.

  “Isn’t Christmas a little indulgent anyway?” I asked, arching an eyebrow at her.

  “For some people.”

  “Do your worst, Piper. I expect what was promised. The North Pole. Just try to keep it classy, will you?”

  Piper laughed. “Do you think my taste is that bad?”

  “We’ll see.”

  She laughed harder. “I have great taste.”

  I looked down at her slippers and then peered up at her from beneath my brows. “That remains to be seen.”

  “I’ll have you know I love these slippers,” she said. Laughter danced in her eyes.

  I grimaced. “Perhaps I’ve made an error in judgment. Maybe it would be best if we stick to just the tree.”

  Piper shoved me playfully. “Ass.”

  I grinned in spite of myself and nodded down at her slippers. “Really though. Th
ose are atrocious.”

  “My mother bought me these.”

  “Someone should tell her she has hideous taste.”

  Piper took another swipe at me, but I’d already fled to the other side of the sofa and was waggling my eyebrows at her in challenge.

  Much to my delight, she chased after me, cursing up a storm as her slippers shuffled across the floor.

  Chapter 9

  Piper

  My heels dragged across the plush carpet of my bedroom as I made my sluggish way from the bed to the bathroom. The light was blinding, and I flicked it off as soon as I turned it on and proceeded to navigate in the dark. There was a window in the bathroom, and I imagined this would be a blissful spot to get ready in the mornings in the spring and summer months when sunlight streamed through and painted the place in bright natural light.

  But for now, it was dark save for the muted under-cabinet lighting near my feet. They provided enough light for me to use the toilet, wash my hands, splash some cold water on my face, and tie my hair up in a messy bun. I rubbed in a bit of face cream before returning to the bedroom to throw on my Christmas pajamas and slippers that Camden loathed so much, and then I headed downstairs for a much needed cup of coffee.

  Camden and I had stayed up late last night. After finally hitting it off and being able to have conversations, we were both eager to make up for lost time. I’d been surprised at how funny he was and how easily he made me laugh. The version of Camden I saw last night matched the version of him I’d met last December, charming, confident, attentive, amusing. The uptight stiffness that he wore like a jacket had slipped away hour by hour.

  I smiled as I recalled how he’d poked fun at my slippers and looked down at them on my feet as I hit the first-floor landing.

  “I still like you,” I muttered.

  When I arrived in the kitchen, I was surprised to find Camden there. It was almost eight o’clock in the morning, and he’d been out the door for work right around this time every day since I arrived. This morning, he was wearing loose black sweats and a matching collared cotton button-up beneath a navy-blue robe.