A Cinderella Affair Read online

  Camille smiled when Jade elbowed him in the ribs. “Thanks. I think.”

  Trent eyed her closely and Camille felt a moment’s apprehension. He was taller than his brothers and his cousin, probably somewhere near six feet four inches. His complexion was a shade darker than Adam’s but not as dark as Linc’s. His eyes were brown and not soft but not quite hard, either. He watched her as if he expected her to grow another head or perhaps puke pea soup.

  Adam’s grip tightened on her hand. “Trent you should go and get a seat, too,” he said.

  Trent nodded then extended his hand to her. Camille looked from Adam and then back to Trent, unsure of what she should do. Beside her Dana nudged her. With her free hand she grasped Trent’s and looked up at him as he spoke.

  “I like your designs. I’m sure it’ll be a great show.”

  Boy, it looked as if those words had been wrenched from him with the terseness in which he spoke. She nodded and again mumbled, “Thank you.”

  “Sorry about that,” Adam said immediately after Trent had walked through the curtains that would take him to the seats. “He’s not usually so intense. Well, actually he is, but I warned him to take it easy on you.”

  He’d turned to face her and was rubbing his hands up and down her arms. This should have bothered her but instead it relaxed her. Camille really needed to get a grip on how that made her feel.

  “I don’t understand. What are you doing here?” she asked when she could think beyond the fact that he was touching her in a way that was far too intimate to be friendly.

  “Camille! You’ve gotta come quick there’s a problem with the models!” A very out of breath Sofari came running up to her.

  Camille turned out of Adam’s grasp and faced her assistant. “What problem?”

  Sofari looked from her to Adam then back to Camille. “You should come with me. I can show you better than I can tell you.”

  “Fine,” Camille snapped, then turned back to Adam.

  She opened her mouth to speak but he silenced her with a look. “Go. I’ll be waiting for you after the show.”

  She nodded and hurried away.

  Adam was about to walk away when he felt a hand on his arm. “She doesn’t know why you came, but I do,” Dana said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You don’t remember me, do you?” she asked as she leaned against the wall.

  Adam lifted a brow. “Should I?”

  “I was with Camille at the Gramercy the first time she met you.”

  Adam nodded as if he remembered.

  “I told her that night she should have left with you. I can’t believe she ran into you again and that now you two are working together. It must be fate.”

  She smiled as she said the last words but was walking away before he could ask her to elaborate. He did remember the woman, although her hair was shorter now. She and Camille had been sitting at the bar when he’d come in for a drink the day after the wedding.

  Fate.

  Adam let the word swirl around in his mind.

  Whatever it was that brought him and Camille together he wouldn’t think about complaining. After all, he had dropped everything to come to L.A. for a fashion show because he felt she needed him. Okay, he wasn’t totally self-centered so he didn’t for one minute believe that it was him personally that she needed. She just needed someone who was in her corner and someone who wouldn’t hesitate to let her know that.

  His mistake had been calling Linc to ensure the availability of the family’s private jet in order to get to L.A. on time. That request had Linc asking questions, which had ultimately led to Jade’s questions, which ended with all of them climbing into the jet to meet the infamous C.K. Davis.

  It didn’t matter. The only thing he was concerned with was the look of pleasant surprise on Camille’s face when they appeared. He wanted to capture that look, to bottle it and keep it especially for himself. All around him was a flurry of activity, so much so that he was thrust back into reality and the fact that the fashion show would be starting in a few minutes.

  He’d just taken a step to go through the curtain and find a seat with his family when again he felt a hand on his arm.

  “You’ve got to help us,” she said desperately.

  “What are you talking about now?” Adam turned and asked the woman he’d just been speaking to. “And what’s your name?”

  “Sorry, I’m Dana. Camille’s best friend and partner. But that’s neither here nor there.” Grabbing him by the hand she began pulling Adam farther toward the back.

  “Wait a minute. Dana? Where are we going? Is something wrong with Camille?” That thought had his stomach plummeting.

  Dana stopped walking and turned to him. “Camille is currently about to hyperventilate as a result of the agency not sending the number of male models we requested. So I need you to change and get ready to go on stage.”

  “What?” Adam yelled and remained rooted where he stood. “I’m not a model.”

  “No.” Dana looked him up and down. “Not by trade, but you certainly could be. Anyway, we need you. Camille needs you.”

  Why did Adam get the distinct impression that Dana knew by putting it that way he’d have no choice but to do what she asked? “This is insane.” He cursed. “Where is she?”

  “There’s not enough time,” Dana began saying.

  “I’m not doing this until I talk to her. Where is she?”

  Dana sighed. “Okay, she’s at the end of the hall but hurry up—you’re going on in the second set. And don’t tell her that you’re doing it or she’ll get even more upset.”

  Stomping away Adam realized the truth in Dana’s words. Camille wouldn’t want to feel like she was imposing on him or anyone else in any way. So he wouldn’t tell her that he was about to make a humongous fool of himself to save her show.

  He found her sitting in a chair, her legs spread, while some skinny man with hair too primped to be masculine pushed her head between her legs. Her entire body trembled and Adam wanted to yell for the man to stop pushing her face into the floor but held tight to his rage. Instead he simply scooped her up out of the chair and took a seat himself, planting her firmly on his lap.

  “Oh, my,” the skinny guy said as he fanned himself.

  “Get lost,” Adam demanded.

  “Adam…it’s…such…a…mess,” Camille hissed.

  “All right, baby, just calm down. It’s going to be okay.” He began massaging her back, making big lazy circles until her breathing almost returned to normal. “Now, tell me what’s bothering you.”

  She swallowed and clenched her hands together. “I… We needed six male models. They only sent… four.”

  “But your line consists of mostly women’s attire. Can’t one of the men just double up?”

  She nodded affirmatively. “That would work for all of the scenes except one when all of them are needed on the floor at one time. There’s no way I can get more models at this point. That means I’ll have to pull two outfits.”

  Her breathing increased and he rubbed her back faster. “No. You won’t. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”

  “How? Do you have models in your pocket?”

  Adam smiled. She was coming around. He kissed her forehead. “No, I don’t have models in my pocket but I don’t like seeing you upset. Do me a favor and take your place over there. Look pretty and smile for the cameras. I’ll handle the rest.”

  He stood and placed her on her feet. She was about to question him and he raised a brow. She waved a hand. “Forget it. You’re stubborn and arrogant enough to argue with whatever I say.”

  “You’re absolutely right, so go over there and take your place.”

  Astonishingly, she did as he said and he made a beeline for the curtain and out into the audience to where his family sat. Calculating as he walked he configured who would be the easiest one to recruit. None of the Donovan men would be easy to coerce in this matter so on impulse he grabbed Trent’s arm and hauled him u
p. “Come with me.”

  “What the hell are you doing? The show’s about to start,” Trent protested until they were again backstage.

  “Look, I need you to do this without all the questions and hoopla. She’s in a bind and she needs our help.” He looked Trent up and down and sighed. “I hope she has something that fits you.”

  “You hope who has something that fits? Are you losing your mind?” Trent asked.

  “Great! You’re both here. Dana said to bring you these.” A tall honey-toned woman handed them two suits.

  Adam took them from her hands without another thought but Trent continued to stare.

  “Thanks,” Adam said.

  “No problem. One of you will be walking with me in about ten minutes so can you hurry it up,” she said then turned and walked away.

  Trent clapped a hand on Adam’s shoulder. “Tell me what I’m thinking is wrong and that you’re not about to ask me to be a model. And then tell me her name and number,” he said, referring to the beauty who’d just given them suits.

  Adam thrust a suit into Trent’s chest. “You’re out of luck because I can’t tell you either of those things.”

  Trent growled and pushed the suit away. “I’m not doing it.”

  “C’mon, man. She needs our help.”

  Adam had already started walking towards one of the changing areas. Trent reluctantly followed. “No, she needs a professional model, which we are not. And why are you so intent on helping her?”

  Adam was already stripping off his shirt. “You asked me that already.”

  Trent reached for the buttons on his shirt. “And you didn’t answer me. Why is she so important to you? It’s just a business deal. This fashion show has nothing to do with you.”

  Adam knew Trent’s words were right and he couldn’t readily explain it, but the only thing that mattered to him, again, was Camille. If this fashion show wasn’t a success or didn’t go off in any way she’d be devastated. And while he knew that in business things didn’t always go exactly the way you wanted, he suspected that Camille would take this setback a lot harder than your average person. He didn’t want her to go through that.

  “Do me a favor and just get into that suit. All we have to do is walk out there and walk back. We’re not selling our souls.”

  Trent frowned. “No, I’m not. But you’re going to owe me bigtime for this.”

  Adam didn’t smile and he didn’t feel relief. Owing Trent was never a good thing. “Fine, whatever you want.”

  “I want her name and number,” Trent said as he took the jacket off the hanger and slipped it on.

  From backstage Camille watched the show begin. The lights were fantastic, the music on point and the crowd excited by them both. Her heart pounded in her chest but she didn’t feel like its thumping was strangling her. Instead she felt motivated, rejuvenated.

  The models owned the catwalk; with attitude and flare only seasoned professionals possessed they displayed her designs in a way that had cameras flashing and the crowd applauding.

  A quick glance to the first row on the right and she spotted the Donovans. Linc and his wife were all smiles as she pointed to various outfits. He had one arm around her and nodded as she talked enthusiastically. He loved her, that much was obvious. Camille wondered how that felt. Jade looked as if she owned the world. It wasn’t the designer clothes she wore or the flawless makeup and stylishly coiffed hair that Camille envied. It was the sheer self-confidence the woman exuded. She knew exactly who she was and what her purpose in the world was. More importantly, she had someone who loved her.

  Pulling her gaze away from the couple because it made her sad she looked at Max, who appeared enchanted by the parade of women. His light-colored eyes glistened as he nodded his own approval of the floor-length lavender sheath. Camille smiled proudly a second before noticing that two of the Donovans were missing. She was about to scan the crowd for them when the music changed.

  She knew this scene, knew that it was missing two key players and tried not to focus on that fact. Adam said he would take care of it. She hadn’t bothered to ask him how, she’d just trusted that he would. That in itself was strange because Camille didn’t readily trust anyone.

  Dana came to stand behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “It’s going well,” she said encouragingly.

  “So far,” Camille said keeping her eyes on the stage.

  The first couple wore white, the woman a tea-length satin halter dress with a sparkling diamond broach. The man in a white suit with satin lapels and diamond-trimmed sleeves. The next couple… Camille gasped.

  Tia St. Martin, one of the most requested runway models in the United States, stepped out first, her black dress clinging to her sleek body. Tia was five feet eleven inches of honey-brown beauty. Her eyes were hazel, her cheekbones high, her lips small and pouty. Her hair was long, golden strands hanging past her shoulders, today held back by black diamond-encrusted clips. A sheer wrap went with the dress and she held it aloof in her right hand so that it dragged behind her. Suddenly the end of the wrap was lifted and the man appeared.

  The suit fit Trent Donovan well, although it could have been a bit longer in the arms. Then again, she hadn’t been prepared for a larger-than-life male model. Still, the black looked good on him. His shirt and tie were black as well, the only thing adding light to his ensemble was the diamond cufflinks. He followed behind the woman in a smooth, confident swagger. The crowd loved it.

  Tia took long strides down the walkway while Trent walked behind her watching—more like gawking—at the sway of her hips in the tight dress. Tia paused, spread her legs and struck a pose. A trained male model would have paused beside her, struck a pose and allowed the audience to take in their attire. Trent, however, slipped a hand around her waist and pulled her to him. Tia didn’t act surprised but went willingly into his arms so that the entire move looked orchestrated. Applause echoed throughout the room as they turned and walked back through the curtain.

  Tia and Dana exchanged a look, then gave in to laughter. “That couldn’t have gone better if we’d planned it,” Camille admitted.

  Dana agreed. “He is beyond fine. We should definitely think about hiring him for the catalog.”

  “I doubt if he’ll do it. I can’t imagine how he was ever coerced into getting out there today. Modeling does not look like Trent Donovan’s cup of tea,” Camille was saying when she could swear her eyes were deceiving her.

  He was sexy in the tuxedo she’d first seen him in and even sexier in the slacks and collarless shirt he’d worn into the bar that night. On this last trip to Vegas he’d worn a suit both days, and she’d admired his physique over and over again. Tonight he didn’t just wear a suit, he wore her suit. She remembered drawing the lines, angling the cut and deciding on the fabric. This was her favorite of the collection, its dark brown hue perfectly accenting the female’s cream crepe strapless dress.

  He did not walk behind the woman. Adam Donovan demanded a more upfront role. He came out first, the female model holding his hand and trailing a step behind him. He had his other hand in his pocket opening the jacket so that his cream-striped brown shirt was on display. The shirt fit him well, so well her mouth watered at the perfectly defined pectorals and tapered waist.

  They reached the end of the runway and the female model released his hand and pressed her body close to his side, her face angled so that it appeared she was resting her head on his shoulder. Adam stared forward, as if the female wasn’t even there. Slipping his hand from his pocket he executed a turn and the woman followed.

  Camille’s breath lodged somewhere between her lungs and her throat as flashes from the camera and the illumination from the light show sparkled and dazzled against the dark backdrop and she watched Adam’s long strides eat up the runway. He was confident, arrogant and gorgeous. Heat pooled between her legs and she couldn’t take her eyes off of him.

  He looked serious, like this was taking a lot of concentration on his part; then
his gaze caught hers and that serious expression vanished. He smiled and her legs buckled.

  “Damn, Camille. If you don’t do him I’m going to hell for cheating on Carl,” Dana whispered.

  Camille heard her words and imagined doing just that. She loved that suit on him but couldn’t help thinking of him without it. Naked and amenable to whatever she desired was how she now envisioned Adam. In her bed or his, it didn’t really matter as long as he was there.

  Chapter 6

  The crowd went nuts clapping and the music seemed just a bit louder when Adam and the model exited the stage. Camille had planned to run to him, to thank him profusely for what he’d done but her feet weren’t cooperating. She seemed glued to that spot, her mind replaying how he’d gotten up in front of all those people, for her.

  Dana, pulling on the sleeve of her blouse, snapped her out of her reverie and Camille looked up to see Adam standing in front of her. He wore a huge grin that managed to make him look ten times sexier than when he was serious on the catwalk.

  “So how was my debut?” he asked in that casual air of his.

  Camille didn’t know what to say so she hugged him instead. “Thank you, so much,” she whispered.

  For a split second he didn’t touch her and Camille thought she’d stepped over the line. But then his arms encircled her waist, his hands moving slowly up her back, spreading heat throughout her on their journey. He held her tightly and Camille imagined that this was more than a thank-you, more than a friendly gesture of appreciation.

  Before she could romanticize the moment any longer Camille pulled away, smiling nervously. “You were really good. If I didn’t know any better I’d swear you’ve done that before.”

  Adam still touched her, one hand possessively remaining around her waist. He lifted a finger to her chin and simply stared at her. Camille couldn’t quite describe what she was feeling at that point. His gaze was intense as if there was something he wanted to say.

  “You’re feeling better,” he said softly.