The Mogul and the Muscle - Claire Kingsley Page 0,38

way to solve this.”

“What’s that?”

“I need to see your dick.”

Right as those words left her mouth, Nicholas opened the door from the terrace. Without missing a beat he said, “I’ll come back,” and left again.

I decided to pretend that hadn’t happened. “I’m not showing you my dick.”

“Come on, it’s only fair.” She crossed her arms. “Let’s see your junk.”

I raised one eyebrow, but made no move to do what she said. I still had a raging erection. If I pulled it out now, she was going to get an eyeful.

The back of my neck prickled, like someone had moved just out of my line of sight, disturbing the still air. I looked toward the kitchen entrance, expecting to see Brutus. But it wasn’t a dog. It was a woman with brown hair streaked with purple, a tight t-shirt with a large glittery D on the front, and a short pink skirt. She reached into a bag of popcorn and put a few kernels in her mouth.

“Don’t mind me,” she said. “I’m just here for the dick show.”

“Daisy?” Cameron asked. “Why do you have popcorn?”

Daisy shrugged. “I made some before I came over. I had no idea how appropriate and mildly amusing it would be.”

I put up my hands. “I’m not showing anyone my dick.”

“You’re no fun,” Daisy said, popping another kernel in her mouth. “Why is he supposed to show you his baby-maker?”

“He saw my boobs.”

“Then she’s right, big guy. Whip it out and let the lady have a good look.”

I ignored Cameron’s popcorn-eating friend. “Cameron, you can’t have a revolving door right now. You’ve got people and dogs and who knows what the fuck else wandering around your house.”

“Don’t keep trying to turn this around on me,” she said. “I already told you my friends have the code.”

“And I told you I’m sorry for looking at your boobs. I’m just trying to do my job.”

The amusement disappeared from Cameron’s eyes. “It’s fine. What time is it? Are you insanely early, or am I late?”

“I was only about ten minutes early. Brandy told me six.”

She grabbed her phone off the kitchen counter and swiped the screen a few times. “I’m late. Fantastic.”

“Where are you off to?” Daisy asked.

“Art show at Wynwood Walls. I’m supposed to be seen with a bodyguard so the random thug from the parking garage knows I’m being protected now.”

Daisy’s gaze flicked to me, then back to Cameron again. “Or so whoever thought they could fuck with you knows they’d be stupid to try it again.”

I gave Daisy a subtle nod and put her on my mental allies list.

Cameron had her boss face on. No hint of what she was thinking. “D, can you help me pick out a dress?”

“Sure, but it would be more fun if you picked something from my closet.”

“You’re like five inches shorter than me,” Cameron said, heading out of the kitchen. “Most of your dresses won’t cover my ass. Hell, most of your dresses barely cover your ass.”

“That’s what makes them fun,” Daisy said and followed her out.

I slumped onto a stool and ran my hands up and down my face, trying to get the image of Cameron’s fantastic rack out of my head.

14

Cameron

Despite Daisy’s protests that it was boring, I’d chosen a tasteful black sleeveless sheath dress. Maybe it lacked flash, but it was appropriate for the CEO of Spencer Aeronautics at tonight’s event. And my sapphire blue heels spiced up my look quite nicely, if I said so myself.

The Wynwood Arts District was north of downtown in what had once been a rundown neighborhood filled with textile factories. Now it was one of Miami’s artsy hotspots, with edgy street art, galleries, trendy bars, and studios featuring artists in action. Tonight was the premier of Carla Santiago’s latest collection—a local sculpture artist who was known for her vibrant use of color.

Solar-powered lights lit the outdoor courtyard and the permanent installation of large wall murals made for an interesting backdrop. Carla’s brightly colored abstract sculptures sat on concrete pedestals, each with a plaque displaying the piece’s name. I stood in front of one entitled Reflections on the Existential Meandering of Water and Time.

Jude stood at a moderate distance, looking frustratingly handsome in his light jacket and slacks—every bit the bodyguard. Feet apart, arms at his sides, eyes taking in everything.

I didn’t know if he was acting so serious because he wanted everyone in attendance to know exactly why he was here—in case the elusive mastermind behind the parking garage attack happened to