That Night in Texas

She was not going to encourage him, to respond to his sexy but smirky smile. “I nearly died. That’s the only reason I kissed you.”

Cam dropped his head and Vivi held her breath, waiting for his lips to meet hers again. She tipped her chin up and closed her eyes. Instead of his lips meeting hers, he murmured “BS” against her lips. Vivi jerked back and had to resist the urge to smack the smile off those sexy lips!

Gah!

And why was she still standing here, flip-flopping between smacking him senseless and kissing him stupid?

* * *

Cam pulled up to another house ten minutes from Vivi’s and leaned across Vivi to open her door. His arm brushed her breast and he heard her intake of breath. Knowing that he couldn’t look at her—if he did, he would crush his mouth to hers and nobody would be getting out of the car anytime soon—he pushed the door open and pulled back. She smelled incredible, of soap and shampoo and a scent that exuded her personality—forthright and clean, with a hint of spice.

Vivi released her seat belt and placed her hand on the door. She turned to face him, her eyes worried. “Maybe you should wait here. Charlie is a good friend, but I don’t know if I’m up to explaining you just yet.”

“If you had to, how would you explain me?”

Vivi released a laugh that was short on amusement. “I’d introduce you as the guy who seems to flip my world every time I run into him.”

It was as good an explanation as any.

Cam watched Vivi walk up the path to the front door, hands in the back pockets of her cutoff denims. God, she was a spectacular-looking woman, but not in the rich-and-pampered way of the women he normally dated. Vivi was... What was the word he was looking for? She was real. Her hair was the same color it had been three years ago, a light brown with natural highlights. Her face was unpainted, those eyes lightening and darkening according to her mood. She was thinner than she’d been before, but all her curves were still there. And those legs, the ones that had gripped his hips as he slid into her, were still as jaw-droppingly shapely as ever.

His attraction to her burned brighter and hotter than before. Three years ago, he’d liked her—obviously. She’d been fun, a way to pass a couple of hours, a human connection. But this woman, the mother of the child he’d never known he had, well, she intrigued him. She’d just shared a little of her past, and he realized that there was a lot more to her story than she’d told him. Rising up through the ranks of a restaurant like The Rollin’ Smoke wasn’t something that happened on a routine basis, so she had to have talent as a chef as well as business savvy. And the fact that she’d had this meteoric career rise while raising a child floored him.

His phone buzzed. Cam looked at his display and hit the button to answer.

“Camden.”

He smiled as Ryder Currin’s deep voice rolled through his car. Ryder, who was a curious combination of big brother, favorite uncle and best friend, was one of the very few people Cam allowed to call him by his full name.

If Cam did everything he could to be unlike his dad or grandfather or any of his useless male ancestors, then Ryder Currin was the man he did try to emulate. Ryder was tough but fair, strong with a solid sense of community. Like Cam, he’d pulled himself up all by himself, for himself, and was now the majority shareholder in Currin Oil, his massive company headquartered in downtown Houston.

Ryder was also how Cam had gotten his start. Cam had heard of a small company needing $50,000 to stake a claim on a piece of land they were convinced held natural gas. Convinced they were on the right track, he had been prepared to risk his savings to invest but didn’t have the entire amount. Or even half that. Taking a chance, he’d approached his then boss Ryder Currin, who had loaned him the money, asking very few questions. Three months later, the company had announced that they’d found one of biggest natural gas deposits in the country, and the find blew up their bank accounts. Well, maybe not Ryder’s, who was already rich, but Cam’s had certainly detonated.

Without that loan, Cam would not be living in River Oaks, driving a fancy car or operating a billion-dollar company. He owed Ryder: for his no-questions-asked faith in him, his continued friendship and for the ear he continued to provide.