To Catch a Camden. Victoria Pade

came.

      So many...

      Oh, no—I don’t have any reason to think that! she silently shouted at herself when she realized that was what had actually gone through her mind.

      And to punish herself, she spent the short drive home recalling what it had been like to be married to a man who could well be Derek Camden’s counterpart.

      Chapter Three

      “So you don’t think there’s any way he’s going to show up,” Gia said to Tyson Biggs on Saturday morning as they had a cup of coffee before going next door to begin the yard work on the Bronsons’ property.

      Gia’s tall, lanky blond friend repeated his prediction, a frown on his hawkish face. “Derek Camden? No way.”

      Gia and Tyson had been best friends since childhood. His family had lived in the house directly behind her grandparents’ house, where she’d grown up.

      Gia had received the two-story house where she now lived in the divorce settlement—it was formerly one of her ex-husband’s rental properties. Gia lived on the ground floor, but the second floor had been turned into an apartment, where Tyson was living while his own house was being built, and the basement apartment was vacant, so she could potentially use it for Larry and Marion.

      “You don’t really think Derek Camden is coming here to do yard work, do you?” Tyson asked.

      The answer to that was yes, she had thought that. Until now. In fact, Derek Camden was pretty much all she’d thought about since Tuesday night, with the prospect of him coming today the light at the end of the tunnel.

      Not that she’d wanted to admit that. But denying it didn’t keep Tyson’s skepticism from knocking the wind out of her sails just the same.

      “What was it your ex liked to say? He could say anything, that didn’t mean he had to do it,” Tyson reminded her.

      Gia nodded. “He did like to say that. With that smug smile he had when he felt like he was outsmarting someone by telling them what they wanted to hear when he didn’t have any intention of making good on it. But Derek Camden claims he really wants to help.”

      “People like the Camdens pay people to do their yard work, G, they don’t turn around and do other people’s yard work themselves.”

      That did make sense.

      “You met him, right?” she asked then, wondering if she had been completely mistaken in believing that he truly was determined to help the Bronsons. After all, she’d been totally misled by her ex-husband, so her track record was hardly reliable.

      “I only met him that once when he was dating Sharon. But it was in a loud, crowded club—I just ran into them, had one drink and left.”

      “But you said he was nice to you and you didn’t know what a guy like him was doing with Sharon.”

      “Right, I remember. And it’s true—he wasn’t her usual type. He seemed normal. But he was with her—so how normal could he be? Plus, Elliot was always nice, too—I’m not sure that means much with these guys. I think they just learn good social graces early to help cover up their darker side. Or maybe as a distraction so you don’t see the knife in the back coming.”

      That had been true of Elliot.

      “Well, if Derek Camden only gives a check, that’ll still be something,” Gia said. “The work is getting done with or without him.”

      “But why do you sound disappointed—were you really counting on him for some reason today?”

      “Me? No! I have you and people from work and a couple of friends from the Botanical Gardens and some neighbors and the pastor and a whole group from the Bronsons’ church coming. We’ll be able to get it all done.”

      “Yeah, I can’t imagine that a Camden used to living in the lap of luxury would be much help anyway.” But then Tyson narrowed his hazel eyes at her. “You don’t like this guy, do you?”

      “I haven’t found anything to dislike,” Gia said with a negligent shrug. “At least not about him personally, if you take away what his family did to Larry and Marion. But no, I don’t like him, either. I don’t even know him.”

      She really only knew the way he looked. Her ex-husband had been good-looking, too—not as good-looking as Derek Camden, but still, no slouch. As time had gone on and she’d looked deeper, though, she’d begun to think “handsome is as handsome does,” and those good looks had meant less and less to her.

      “But it’s enough to know what Derek Camden comes from,” Tyson said, as if he needed to open her eyes. “The Camdens could buy and sell the Grants a thousand times over, and their reputation is even worse—sneakier, but worse. Getting involved with a Camden after just getting away from the Grants would be like going from the frying pan into the fire.”

      “Oh, I know,” Gia agreed wholeheartedly. “Even the hint of shadiness means I don’t want anything to do with them.”

      “Plus, what Sharon didn’t like about him was the whole family connection. There’s a ton of them and they’re all joined at the hip—they work together, they hang out together, there’s a family dinner at the grandmother’s house every Sunday that none of them ever miss—”

      “And believe me, no one knows better than I do that in a family that tight there’s no real room for other people. Even spouses are always outsiders.” Gia knew that from her own experience; it was something she and Tyson had talked about numerous times before.

      “But none of this matters,” she said to her friend when she realized they were just rehashing. “I’m not ready to even date right now—I told you I just turned down dinner with the church pastor, and who’s more upstanding than him? And even if I was back on the market, people like the Camdens are everything I spent three years fighting tooth and nail to get away from—I would never get into anything like that again.”

      “And let’s also not forget that Derek Camden dated my crazy cousin Sharon,” Tyson added in support of Gia. “Plus, she must be the type he goes for because he dated two of her whacko friends after the breakup. I doubt that you’re off-the-wall enough for that guy—unless you want to cut your hair into a spiky Mohawk and dye it blue....”

      “This hair in a Mohawk?” Gia said with a laugh, pulling a springy curl from her ponytail.

      “And I’m good, but I don’t think I could face another divorce from one of those people,” Tyson added as if to seal the anti–Derek Camden deal.

      Tyson was rated one of Denver’s top-five divorce attorneys and had represented Gia when she’d divorced Elliot Grant. But the Grants’ dirty fighting and false accusations against Tyson himself had prompted an inquiry from the Bar Association. It had all taken its toll on him and his practice, and wasn’t something Gia wanted to put him through again.

      “Don’t worry, never again, Ty,” Gia assured him. “When I’m ready to get back out there, it will only be with nice, average guys from nice, average families.”

      Gia poured what remained of her coffee down the sink and rinsed her cup, then took Tyson’s to do the same so they could get next door to work.

      Where Derek Camden probably would not show up because Tyson was right.

      And where she would throw herself into the job and try not to feel as if she’d wasted almost an entire week fantasizing about Derek Camden flexing muscles to hoist fertilizer bags and paving stones....

      * * *

      Tyson was wrong.

      Derek Camden arrived at the Bronsons’ small redbrick two-bedroom house along with everyone else enlisted to work on Saturday. He wasn’t even a minute late.

      His outfit for the occasion—tennis shoes, old jeans and a plain green crewneck T-shirt—let Gia know she