Page 11 of Among the Stars
“Fine,” he said, cutting the engine. “I can spare a few hours.”
* * *
Veronica tookthe quickest shower of her life, afraid that if she left Cam alone for too long, he’d change his mind. Or maybe she’d change hers. She’d concocted some goofball ideas in the past, but this one went way into crazy pants territory.
For one, Veronica couldn’t lie to save her life. With strangers, she might be able to maintain the front for the few hours he’d offered. With her family, not a chance. Which meant she had to convince herself that she and Cam were dating, if only casually. Technically, she had slept with him. Okay, not with him with him, but in his bed with him sleeping down the hall. And she’d seen him somewhat undressed. Not as much as she would like, but that tight tee and those pjs had been enough to fuel plenty of late-night fantasies. If only a panic attack hadn’t been brewing when Cam had strolled into the bedroom looking enticingly lickable.
Was lickable a word? She’d have to ask Olivia. Schoolteachers knew those sorts of things.
As she bent to wrap a towel around her head, a tiny voice in the back of Veronica’s mind whispered, You’ve never considered Ash lickable.
Her head snapped up so quickly the room spun. Not two months ago, Veronica had let Ash know that she’d been comparing other men to him. It made sense that even a pretend boyfriend would get the same treatment, but there was no comparison between Ash and Cam. Not that Ash wasn’t attractive. He was tall and sweet, with the kindest eyes she’d ever seen. He never pushed, raised his voice, or made Veronica feel anything but comfortable. His gentle nature had been the reason they’d become friends, and eventually more.
Gentle was not a word she’d use for Cam, but he wasn’t rough either. In their brief acquaintance, he’d been kind and generous, but rigid, too. She’d yet to hear him laugh. To see him smile. Then there was the status level. Ash was a highly successful songwriter. He lived a more-than-comfortable life. But not a penthouse and BMW kind of life.
If the magazine article was accurate, Cam was ridiculously wealthy. No one owned prime property on Lower Broadway and lived in such an exclusive building without pulling in eight-plus figures a year. Thanks to her success producing chart-topping and award-winning hits for Nashville’s biggest names, Veronica possessed an impressive financial portfolio of her own. She’d just never felt the need to show it off. There was nothing wrong with having nice things, and Cam seemed to display his status in an understated way. Quality over flair. But did he enjoy it?
Maybe that’s what she’d tell her mother and sisters when they asked about her Christmas date. Once they got over the shock of his identity, of course. Cam offered structure and stability for Veronica’s impulsive nature, and she loosened him up. Brought a little spontaneity to his austere life.
She was doing a little of that already, really. Persuading him to play a part. A little spin in her mind and voila—she and Cam were in the early stages of a budding relationship. No lying needed.
* * *
On her wayup the stairs, his hostess had suggested Cam make himself comfortable. After several minutes spent pondering the insanity of what he’d agreed to do, he finally settled into a well-loved brown leather chair. A matching sofa rested on the opposite side of a rustic wood and metal coffee table strewn with tattered magazines.
The house offered an open floor plan, as was the fashion, and one shiplapped feature wall painted dark blue in stark contrast to the softer tones of the rest of the space. He’d had the same shiplap detail applied to the fronts of all of the Rhodes Tavern bars back in the spring, only painted black. Less scuff marks that way.
The tree in front of the picture window was neat and festive, with thick blue ribbons trailing out of a large matching bow at the top. Garland decorated the stair railing, as well as the window and door frames. The holiday spirit was abundance but not ostentatious.
Cam was more surprised by what the house lacked. No gold records on the walls. No trophy case full of awards. The home was uniquely Nashville, including a large oil painting of the city skyline and the distinct mix of retro and modern decor the hipster crowd had brought to the area, but there was no evidence the owner had anything to do with the music business.
In all fairness, Cam didn’t decorate his apartment with liquor shelves and neon signs. His home bore few personal touches of any kind. He’d hired a decorator a month before his move-in date, and she’d followed his preferences. Modern, clean, and functional. He might have added a family picture or two, if he’d had one, but Cam had disposed of those mementos long ago.
Veronica’s place was littered with them. At the back of a collection on the end table was a picture he could only assume featured the once-happy couple. Veronica wore a simple white dress, her hair stacked loosely on her head with wavy strands dancing around her delicate face. The man wore a navy suit and tie in place of the standard tuxedo. The young lovers stared into each other’s eyes over a modest wedding cake, both wearing blissful expressions.
Cam flipped the frame photo side down. Why keep a wedding picture around when she was clearly struggling with the divorce? Annoyed, he took the extra step of slipping the photo into the drawer of the coffee table, burying it beneath magazines and Sudoku puzzle books.
Steps sounded on the stairs, and Cam leaned back in his chair, pasting an impassive expression on his face. Before she reached the bottom step, he drew a startling conclusion. Veronica Shepherd looked sexier in jeans and an oversized sweater than she had in the red slip of nothing from the night before. Damp, wheat-colored hair swung from a ponytail, and she’d gone light on the makeup. If she was trying to impress him with her incredible looks, she was being subtle about it.
“All ready?” Veronica asked while pulling a coat from the closet at the base of the stairs.
A bit dumbstruck, Cam remained seated. “You’re beautiful,” he said.
She blushed while pulling on the coat. “Not as beautiful as the women you’re probably used to dating, but thank you.” One sleeve on, she froze with a stricken look on her face. “I didn’t even ask if you have a girlfriend. I mean, of course you do. Look at you.” One hand jerked up and down in his direction. “I can’t ask you to pretend to date me while you’re really dating someone else. That’s just wrong.”
Rising from the chair, Cam closed the distance between them in three strides to help her finish putting on the coat—a pale pink number with a double row of black buttons and an attached scarf.
“I don’t have a girlfriend, Veronica. Just you for the next few hours.”
She smiled and buttoned herself up. “Whew. I have a strict policy against taking other women’s boyfriends. And spouses, of course. Even if only for pretend.”
Her words barely registered as the temptation to taste the smile on her lips nearly set him into action. But then she flipped the ponytail out of her collar, smacking Cam in the face, and he was snapped back to his senses.
Kissing was not part of this arrangement. Then again, if they’d been on multiple dates, as she’d suggested, they’d have kissed several times by now. They should probably try it to make sure their fake relationship was believable.
“You ready?” she said, turning innocent eyes his way.
Cam banked the idea for future discussion. “Yes, let’s go.”