What's A Housekeeper To Do? / Tipping the Waitress with Diamonds. Nina Harrington

about work or characterisation or research.

      Anything.

      But her lips still tingled from the press of his. Even now her body begged her to step back into his embrace, to take their kiss even further, prolong the closeness and connection.

      Finally Lally found words. ‘I’m not looking for an involvement. Not that I’m suggesting you are. This…We forgot ourselves for a moment. There’s no need to make a fuss about it, but it mustn’t happen again; it’s not wise. You’re a busy man with loads on your plate, and your struggle to sleep to deal with, let alone a recalcitrant muse and a highly demanding business in Sydney. And I work for you!’

      ‘I know.’ He swallowed hard. Regret etched lines into his face that hadn’t been there before. ‘I understand all of that, Lally. It was wrong of me to kiss you. I’m not looking for a relationship. I don’t—that’s not in my agenda, and it’s not smart to mix work with that anyway. And you’re quite right. You wouldn’t want…’

      Whatever he’d been about to say, he cut the words off, but the message was there anyway. He agreed with her. This kiss shouldn’t have happened. They had to respect the boundaries of their working relationship. He didn’t want her, not really. Not like that.

      Lally drew a breath and blurted, ‘I didn’t mean to set up this night to lead to this.’

      ‘I know.’ His words were deep and genuine. ‘I had a problem with my writing, you thought of a great solution. We both got excited about it and in that excitement, for a few moments, we forgot ourselves.’

      His summary of events left out a few things—such as the way they’d both become more aware of each other as the evening had worn on—but Lally nodded. ‘That’s right. I’m glad we got that sorted out.’ She forced a relieved smile. ‘Phew. Well, are we finished here? Do you have what you need for your research? Maybe we should head home—I mean, back to your property development.’

      ‘I have everything I need.’ Cam watched emotions flit across Lally’s face and felt them churn inside him. Kissing her had been amazing. Yes, he’d made all sorts of comments on how that had come about and why it shouldn’t have and everything else. Those comments were real and true; they just weren’t all of it. And they didn’t even begin to touch on how he’d felt inside himself as a result of these shared moments. Cam didn’t want to examine those feelings, but the thoughts came anyway.

      He’d kissed her softly in a way he had never kissed any other woman. He’d kissed Lally after trying to ignore the need to do it all night. He’d kissed her to pay homage to her beauty and how lovely she looked in that dress. He’d done it because something inside him had needed to.

      He couldn’t tell her any of that. Because Lally didn’t want this. She’d made that clear and she’d looked scared when she said it. Scared from somewhere inside that Cam shouldn’t mess with because she could end up getting hurt, and the last thing he wanted was to hurt her.

      He wanted to know what had hurt her, but he mustn’t mess with that either. He had no right, no claim on her, aside from being her very temporary employer, nor would he ever seek to change that. Cam didn’t want this either; he couldn’t pursue it. He’d only end up disappointing her, not being what she needed. He’d proved that about himself already.

      He was an insomniac, workaholic, novelwriting businessman who couldn’t stay in one place, couldn’t rest, had no idea how to be a family. He and his mother might have been linked during his childhood but she hadn’t wanted him. And Cam had learned not to be wanted.

      He’d tried to break out of that once, in his midtwenties. Gillian…

      Cam had built up Gillian’s expectations, and when she’d realised just how much of him would never be hers, when she had come to understand just how much his past history and his insomnia impacted on his daily life, she’d been let down, disappointed and ultimately hurt. She’d wanted and needed more than he’d been able to give her. She’d been right to want that, and right to walk away.

      They’d gone their separate ways and Cam had learned a lesson. He didn’t want to hurt a woman like that again. He didn’t want to set himself up for that kind of loss again either. He knew what he could and couldn’t have.

      Yet tonight Cam had forgotten all that past history, that painful learning-curve that he’d sworn not to repeat. He’d kissed a slip of a girl on a rooftop, had found all this tenderness and all these other responses to her inside him. He hadn’t simply wanted to give them to her, he’d felt driven to bring them to her. That wasn’t something he’d experienced with Gillian; it wasn’t something he’d ever experienced with any woman.

      That fact perhaps had driven him to kiss Lally. It had certainly made his reactions to her even more dangerous. He forced his arms to drop away from her, forced himself to take a step back. Every fibre of his body and mind seemed to object at once. If he drew her close again, he knew he wouldn’t want to let go at all. He’d take her hand, lead her back through this hotel, take her home and make her his completely.

       Not happening, Travers.

      ‘We should go.’ He led Lally back the way they had come and ushered her into the service lift.

      As the doors closed, Lally turned to him and said quietly, ‘Your book—did we achieve what you needed?’

      It was a ploy to get the focus off them and back to the reason for this evening. Cam acknowledged this and did his best to further it. ‘I’ve decided the female character will be an undercover special-services officer, but she’s a double agent with marksman skills and a history as a hired assassin as well…’ Cam talked about his story until he had Lally out of the hotel and safely ensconced beside him in the car.

      In the car’s dim interior, Cam could hear every breath Lally took, smell the soft scent of her skin and whatever lotion she’d rubbed into it after her shower tonight. He tried not to notice any of it.

      ‘I’m glad the research was successful and that you have a good understanding of this new character you’re bringing into your story.’ Her fingers fidgeted with the small bag in her lap. ‘You know, I really shouldn’t keep any of these things.’

      ‘Please. Maybe you’ll wear them some place again one day.’ And think of me. Was that what Cam wanted? His eyebrows drew together.

      As they passed beneath a streetlight, Cam glanced towards her. The breeze had whipped at her hair, dishevelled it just enough to make him want to bury his hands in it, caress his fingers over her scalp and use that touch to tilt her head so he could kiss her neck, kiss her chin and find his way back to soft lips.

       You’re not thinking about kissing her, remember?

      They’d researched; that research had led to a kiss that shouldn’t have happened. A kiss that had blown him away, because she’d been so giving and he’d loved that and had wanted to give back in equal measure. Cam drew the convertible to a halt in an allotted space inside the property-development site. No matter how tempting, no matter how much she soothed him—no matter anything—he had to take due care that nothing like this happened again.

      A woman like Lally deserved better than an insomniac workaholic who had no sense of family or ability to meet a woman’s deep needs.

      There was no other way for Cam. No other way that he knew.