corners of her mouth tilt upwards and then quiver, as if uncertain whether to stay there or not. The way she bit her lower lip when she was nervous. The way she moved her body like a graceful dancer. Her beautiful brown eyes that reminded him of caramel. Her creamy skin with that tiny dusting of freckles over the bridge of her nose that he found adorable.
Adorable?
Okay, time to rein it in. He had no right to be thinking about her that way. If he crossed the boundary any further it had the potential to ruin his relationship with her whole family. Three generations of it. He had so many wonderful memories of spending time at Drummond Brae, the big old house set on a Highland estate just out of Inverness. He had met Fraser Drummond in his fourth year at university in London when they were both twenty-two. It felt like a lifetime ago now.
But he still remembered the first time he had visited the Drummond family. It was nothing like any of the families he had been a part of, his nuclear family in particular. He had been struck by their warmth, the way they loved and accepted each other; the easygoing bonhomie between them was something he had never witnessed outside of a television show. Sure, they argued, but no one shouted or swore obscenities or threw things or stormed out in a huff. No one went through an insanely bitter divorce and then refused to have the other person’s name mentioned in their presence ever again. Violet’s parents were as in love with each other as the first day they’d met. Their solid relationship was the backbone of the family, the scaffolding providing the safety net of stability that allowed each sibling to grow to their full potential. Even the way Margie Drummond was taking care of her ill ninety-year-old father-in-law Archie was indicative of the unconditional love that flowed in the family.
Cam had become an ancillary part of that family in a way he wouldn’t dream of compromising, even if it meant ignoring the persistent drumbeat of lust he had going on for Violet—the baby of the clan. Who was doing an excellent job of pretending to be in love with him at the moment.
But it was far more than the fear of compromising his relationship with her family that held him back. How could he even think about settling down when he was all over the place with work commitments? He was driven to succeed and the only way to succeed was to put everything else on hold. Work was his focus. His first priority. His only priority. If he got distracted now, he could jeopardise everything he’d worked so hard for since the day he’d been left at boarding school. He was used to being an island. Self-sufficient.
Violet resumed her seat next to Cam at the table and looped her slim arm through his, gazing up at him with those big brown eyes as if she thought the world began and ended and only made sense with him. This close he could smell her perfume, a bewitching combination of spring flowers that tantalised his senses until he felt slightly drunk. Or mad. Definitely mad. Mad with lust. He could feel it pounding in his pelvis when she leaned closer, her slim pale hand sliding down to his.
Her touch should not be having this effect on him. He was not a lust-crazed teenager. Normally he could control himself. But if she looked at his lap right now, he’d have some explaining to do. He still had some explaining to do after that kiss. He had been hard for her with one kiss. One kiss, for God’s sake! What sort of tragic did that make him? Yes, he hadn’t had sex in a while but he’d been busy since Easter... And no, it had nothing to do with seeing Violet that weekend. Nothing to do with noticing her in a way he had never done before.
Or had it?
Had he not pursued the many opportunities he’d had for a casual fling because something had gnawed at him since Easter? The sense that there had to be something more...something more than a few drinks or dinners, a few mostly satisfactory tumbles and a ‘goodbye, thanks for the memories’?
For years he had been perfectly content with his lifestyle. He enjoyed the freedom to take on extra work without the pressure of being responsible for someone’s emotional upkeep. He had seen both of his parents struggle and fail to meet the needs of each other and their subsequent partners whilst juggling the demands of a career and family. It had always looked like too much hard work.
But there was something to be said for feeling something more than basic lust for a sexual partner. Kissing Violet had felt...different somehow. The connection they had as long-term friends had brought a completely different dynamic to the kiss. He couldn’t quite explain it. Maybe he would have to kiss her again... There’s a thought.
‘Smile for the camera,’ Sophia said from the other side of the table, holding up her phone.
Cam smiled and leaned his head against Violet’s fragrant one, her hair tickling his cheek, her closeness doing something dangerous to his hormones. The photo was taken and Sophia sat back with a Cheshire cat smile. He didn’t trust that smile. He didn’t trust that woman. He didn’t trust his deal with Nick would be secure until the contract was signed, sealed and delivered. But Nick was dragging things out a bit. This trip to London was obviously part of the stalling campaign. Cam couldn’t help feeling he was being subjected to some sort of test. Maybe Nick knew exactly what his flirty young wife was up to but wanted to see how Cam would deal with it.
He was dealing with it just fine. With Violet’s help. But how long would he have to play pretend? This weekend was fine. But after that? There was only one more week before Christmas. If word got out... His gut seized at the thought. Why had he got himself into this? Seeing Violet in that café earlier had been purely coincidence.
Or had it?
He had felt drawn to that café as if a navigational device inside his body had taken him there. When he’d seen her sitting there all alone something had shifted inside him. Like a gear going up a notch. He had gone from noticing her to wanting her...as in wanting her. He had offered to take her to the party not because he felt sorry for her but because he couldn’t bear the thought of some sleazy colleague trying it on with her.
Green-eyed monster?
You bet.
VIOLET WASN’T SURE she liked the idea of Sophia having photos of her and Cam but what could she do? She had to play along and pretend everything was fine. Thing was, it felt fine. Leaning against him, smiling up at him, looking into those amazingly blue eyes of his that crinkled up at the corners when he smiled—all of it felt so fine she had trouble remembering this was all an act. That it wasn’t going to last beyond the weekend.
‘Nick and I are going to dance at the nightclub down the road,’ Sophia said. ‘Come and join us.’
It wasn’t an invitation—it was a command. One Violet would have ignored but for the forty million pounds that were hanging in the balance.
And because she didn’t want Sophia to think she was one bit intimidated by her. It was how mean girls worked. They manipulated and caused trouble, striking mischief-making matches and standing back to watch the explosion like Lorna had done outside the office.
But there was another reason Violet walked into that nightclub on Cam’s arm. She had never danced with anyone. Not since that party. She hated the crush of bodies. The threat of strangers touching her, even by accident as they jostled on the dance floor, had always been too threatening.
But if she danced with Cam it would prove she was moving on. Taking back the control she had lost. She had never danced with him, not even at one of her family’s famous ceilidhs. He had always refrained from joining into the fun, citing the fact that he had no coordination or wasn’t a true Scot and there was no way he was ever wearing a skirt. But this would be the perfect opportunity to get him on the dance floor. A legitimate excuse to be in his arms. Where she felt safe.
But Violet hadn’t factored in the music. It wasn’t the swaying-in-your-partner’s arms sort. It was loud, an auditory assault that made conversation other than sign language virtually impossible. The nightclub dance floor was cramped with sweaty, gyrating bodies. It was exactly the sort of place she normally avoided. There wasn’t room to swing a cat, let alone a dance partner.
But Sophia and Nick seemed to be enjoying