The Mogul And The Muscle

Bert was out front, a set of keys in his hand. He put his hand up in a wave. “Mr. Ellis.”

“Evening. Heading home?”

“Yes, the missus wants me home for dinner.”

“The place looks beautiful, by the way,” I said, gesturing toward the lush landscaping around Cameron’s house. “You’re very talented. Have you always been a gardener?”

He shook his head. “No. I was a construction foreman for a long time. Worked with Cameron’s grandad years ago. After I retired, it drove the missus crazy to have me around the house all day.”

“So you took up gardening?”

“Always had a passion for it. Never had the budget to indulge like I do here. Cameron lets me grow anything I like, as long as it won’t poison anyone’s pet.”

“Sounds like a good way to spend your retirement.”

“I can’t complain. Here to see Cameron?”

I nodded. “I’m accompanying her to an art show this evening.”

His face grew serious. “Have her back at a decent hour.”

“Yes, sir.”

He narrowed his eyes, then nodded slowly, like he’d decided he’d let me see Cameron. “Okay, then. Have a good evening.”

“You too.”

I let myself in and put my helmet by the door. The house was quiet, just the trickle of the fountain in the entryway. I glanced up the stairs, but I wasn’t about to check up there. That was her personal space.

“Cameron?”

No answer.

Her office was empty, as was the kitchen. I glanced into her living room and noticed a huge pile of fur. Was that a dog? I hadn’t realized she had a pet.

I left the dog softly snoring and went back to the kitchen. She was probably getting ready, so I figured I’d check out her back terrace. I’d only seen it from the inside.

The large accordion door whispered open and I stepped out into the heat. Bert’s handiwork was everywhere. Large planters overflowed with thick greenery, the wide leaves and bright red blooms shining in the sun. She had plush outdoor furniture shaded by large umbrellas and a sweeping view of Biscayne Bay. A path lined with plants led to the guest houses, smaller versions of her luxury beach hut mansion.

There was a splash in the pool and when I turned to look, I froze in my tracks, my hand still on the door.

Cameron emerged from the water. Topless.

Her red hair was plastered against her head and her eyes were squinted shut. I could see the rippling outline of gold bikini bottoms beneath the water line, but her top was nowhere to be seen.

“Inda, are you around?” she called. “My stupid top came off and I got sunscreen in my eyes and I can’t see. Can you bring me my towel?”

Oh fucking hell. I was staring at her like I’d never seen a naked woman in my life. What was wrong with me? I was forty years old, it wasn’t like I hadn’t seen boobs before.

But I hadn’t seen Cameron Whitbury’s. And holy hell, hers were gorgeous. I hadn’t been so turned on by a pair of tits at a distance since my first concert when I was sixteen.

“Inda?”

I glanced around the terrace. Cameron’s towel was draped over a chair near the pool. No sign of Inda. Or Nicholas. Or anyone, for that matter.

This didn’t have to be a big deal. We were both adults. If I went back inside and pretended I hadn’t seen her, she’d be stuck out here with sunscreen stinging her eyes. She’d find her towel eventually, but it would be quicker if I just brought it to her.

Resolving not to stare at her tits, I got her towel off the chair.

The part about not staring at her tits was a lie. I couldn’t take my eyes off them.

“Damn it,” she said, feeling for the railing, her eyes still squeezed shut. She walked up the pool steps, water dripping down her body.

My heart thumped in my chest and my dick was so hard it ached. She was so beautiful and whatever bullshit I’d been telling myself about not being attracted to her was a big fat lie.

I was frustratingly, insanely, stupidly attracted to her.

Without a word, I held out the towel.

“Oh,” she said when her hand brushed it. She took it from my hands. “Thanks.”

I swallowed hard while she wiped her eyes, and before I could kickstart my brain into working again, she opened them.