Dead giveaway she’d been up to something physical.
Soon, her breathing was almost normal and her tone was professional, which meant she was talking with a client.
“Mmm-hmm...Of course...You did the right thing...No problem. I’ll meet you at my office...Give me thirty minutes. Bye, Emmalee.”
It took a couple of seconds for her words to penetrate his lust-fogged brain. “What did you say?”
“Oh, crud.”
With his hands cupping her shoulders, he could feel the tension creep across the muscles in her back. “Please tell me you weren’t talking with my mother.”
“Okay. I wasn’t talking with your mother.”
“Who the hell else’s name is Emmalee in this town?” he demanded. This could not be happening. Allie had not just received a phone call from his mother. A call that had sounded suspiciously like one between counselor and client.
“Cameron, we are not having this conversation. I slipped up. I make a commitment to my clients’ privacy and that includes, most especially, privacy from nosy family members.” She shifted off his legs and retied her top.
His mom, at fifty-six years old, was a Personal Assets client? His shook his head but the ringing was still in there. Which was worse, his mom was getting sex advice from his...his...date or that she’d interrupted the hottest foreplay of his life?
He scrubbed his hands over his face and hair. “Shit, shit, shit.”
“You cannot let your mother know you overheard this conversation. If I hadn’t been distracted, I wouldn’t have talked with her until I could do so privately.” She stood and leaned over the seat to grab her shoes.
The fact that he was so surprised by this sordid little discovery that he barely thought about what was under her skirt pissed him off all over again. Then he remembered his khakis were heaped in a wrinkled mess at his feet, and he yanked them on. He left the fly parted because he’d be maimed for life if he zipped up now.
He glanced at his lap. Nix that. A man’s mom calling mid-BJ equaled a supersonic soft-on.
“I’m sorry about this, but I need you to take me to my place so I can pick up my car.”
“To meet with my mom?”
“I already told you I can’t discuss it with you.” As scorching as her mouth had been on him mere minutes before, it was now pursed like a nineteenth-century schoolmarm.
“Fine, but this discussion. And this, this—” he circled a hand between Allie and himself as they moved to the front seat, “—is not over yet.”
“Is that a promise or a threat?”
The woman had the nerve to laugh at his frustration? He cranked BB with more force than necessary. “Both, dammit.”
Chapter Eight
The drive back to Allie’s house was filled with the kind of silence that would explode if pricked with a straight pin. Allie finger-combed her hair, so when she met Emmalee it wouldn’t look as though she’d been engaged in scorching foreplay with her client’s son.
Allie had never had to interrupt her own pursuit of sexual happiness to assist someone else with theirs. That she’d been lodged between Cameron’s legs when his mother called had to be some kind of cosmic practical joke. But surprise and arousal was no excuse for blurting out a client’s name.
A mistake she’d never made before.
Cameron pulled into her short driveway and faced her. “About my mom—”
“We aren’t discussing this.” She gathered her sweater and reached for the door handle.
“Then how about we discuss this?” He tugged her back and kissed her. His lips were firm and his tongue aggressive. Frustration over the interruption or discovering his mom was Allie’s client? Before Allie could come to a conclusion, he released her. “We have unfinished business.”
Relief cruised through her system but was quickly chased with uncertainty. Unfinished business about Emmalee or them?
“My house, tomorrow night,” he demanded. Darned if she didn’t want to kiss that frown right off his face. “And
Soon, her breathing was almost normal and her tone was professional, which meant she was talking with a client.
“Mmm-hmm...Of course...You did the right thing...No problem. I’ll meet you at my office...Give me thirty minutes. Bye, Emmalee.”
It took a couple of seconds for her words to penetrate his lust-fogged brain. “What did you say?”
“Oh, crud.”
With his hands cupping her shoulders, he could feel the tension creep across the muscles in her back. “Please tell me you weren’t talking with my mother.”
“Okay. I wasn’t talking with your mother.”
“Who the hell else’s name is Emmalee in this town?” he demanded. This could not be happening. Allie had not just received a phone call from his mother. A call that had sounded suspiciously like one between counselor and client.
“Cameron, we are not having this conversation. I slipped up. I make a commitment to my clients’ privacy and that includes, most especially, privacy from nosy family members.” She shifted off his legs and retied her top.
His mom, at fifty-six years old, was a Personal Assets client? His shook his head but the ringing was still in there. Which was worse, his mom was getting sex advice from his...his...date or that she’d interrupted the hottest foreplay of his life?
He scrubbed his hands over his face and hair. “Shit, shit, shit.”
“You cannot let your mother know you overheard this conversation. If I hadn’t been distracted, I wouldn’t have talked with her until I could do so privately.” She stood and leaned over the seat to grab her shoes.
The fact that he was so surprised by this sordid little discovery that he barely thought about what was under her skirt pissed him off all over again. Then he remembered his khakis were heaped in a wrinkled mess at his feet, and he yanked them on. He left the fly parted because he’d be maimed for life if he zipped up now.
He glanced at his lap. Nix that. A man’s mom calling mid-BJ equaled a supersonic soft-on.
“I’m sorry about this, but I need you to take me to my place so I can pick up my car.”
“To meet with my mom?”
“I already told you I can’t discuss it with you.” As scorching as her mouth had been on him mere minutes before, it was now pursed like a nineteenth-century schoolmarm.
“Fine, but this discussion. And this, this—” he circled a hand between Allie and himself as they moved to the front seat, “—is not over yet.”
“Is that a promise or a threat?”
The woman had the nerve to laugh at his frustration? He cranked BB with more force than necessary. “Both, dammit.”
Chapter Eight
The drive back to Allie’s house was filled with the kind of silence that would explode if pricked with a straight pin. Allie finger-combed her hair, so when she met Emmalee it wouldn’t look as though she’d been engaged in scorching foreplay with her client’s son.
Allie had never had to interrupt her own pursuit of sexual happiness to assist someone else with theirs. That she’d been lodged between Cameron’s legs when his mother called had to be some kind of cosmic practical joke. But surprise and arousal was no excuse for blurting out a client’s name.
A mistake she’d never made before.
Cameron pulled into her short driveway and faced her. “About my mom—”
“We aren’t discussing this.” She gathered her sweater and reached for the door handle.
“Then how about we discuss this?” He tugged her back and kissed her. His lips were firm and his tongue aggressive. Frustration over the interruption or discovering his mom was Allie’s client? Before Allie could come to a conclusion, he released her. “We have unfinished business.”
Relief cruised through her system but was quickly chased with uncertainty. Unfinished business about Emmalee or them?
“My house, tomorrow night,” he demanded. Darned if she didn’t want to kiss that frown right off his face. “And
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