One Wrong Move Page 26

  Her blog was making some money as she posted about her adventures living in a safe house, but she wanted to stop thinking about that life. She wanted to forget everything about it. Eventually she’d write the story Moore had promised her, but she wasn’t ready.

  Beacon meowed, and she picked him up and rubbed under his neck, behind his ear, then next to his tail. “You’re going to love the snow. The cooler weather.”

  The door banged open. She dropped the shirt she held, and Beacon bolted from her arms. She considered running with him. Darrell was dead, but who knew what enemies might still want her gone.

  “Rayma?”

  Her heart pounded. Thighs shaky, knees weak, she felt her mouth grow dry when she recognized Camden’s voice. Her pulse pattered as his footsteps approached, then he stopped in the doorway.

  Three weeks had passed with no word from him. Beacon came out from under the bed, arched his back, and sauntered over to him.

  Camden knelt down to pet the cat. “Hey, little buddy.”

  “Camden, how nice to see you.” Kill them with kindness. He hadn’t bothered to call or attempt to see her after the hell they’d gone through that night three weeks ago. He hadn’t bothered to see for himself if she was okay. Sure, he knew she was, but he hadn’t bothered to see for himself.

  And what did that tell her?

  She fought off tears. No more crying. She thought it’d be as easy getting over him as it had been with Keegan, but so far it wasn’t.

  That’s because I love him, and I never loved Keegan.

  Sweat burned in her armpits, and she fought hard to maintain control as she folded clothes into her suitcase. He continued to pet Beacon, but finally stood, though he didn’t come any closer.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be out on another mission?” Rayma asked.

  “I’m taking a break.” He cleared his throat, the only indication he might be a tad uncomfortable.

  She’d never known him to be uncomfortable.

  “I’m thinking about going to work with James.”

  She stopped folding her next shirt. “James?” He nodded. “Why?”

  “It’s time to do something different with my life. I’m wasting a lot of it going undercover to be someone I’m not.”

  “You’re busting a lot of drug dealers. That’s not a waste.”

  He shrugged. “I went to visit my family. I hadn’t seen my niece since she was a baby, and my nephew is practically grown now. I don’t want to miss out on my family anymore. I don’t want to miss out on you anymore.”

  What’d he just say? Her senses were a little muddled. She wasn’t sure if he even meant his words.

  “I found the woman of my dreams,” he continued. “The woman who finally makes me want to settle down.”

  Did he expect to just come in here and pick up where they left off? Was she crazy enough to let him?

  The old Rayma would block off her feelings, try to push him away for fear of getting hurt. The old Rayma had too much pride to give him another chance. She’d tell him to leave, that things would never work out, then she’d go on to live her life alone and full of emptiness. The old Rayma would convince herself it wasn’t worth it, she could trust no one, that he’d change his mind eventually. She’d convince herself she was happy just as things were and that she was only in love with the idea of being in love.

  This Rayma realized sometimes you had to get hurt to experience the pleasures of life. Sometimes you had to take a chance on someone you care about. And no matter how much she didn’t want to, she did care a lot about him. She loved him.

  “I’m in love with you, Rayma.”

  Okay, now she had to sit on the bed. She moved aside the luggage. Beacon jumped into the suitcase and settled in, watching them. Camden came over to sit beside her.

  Shit, now he’d hear how loud her heart beat. Now he’d see how badly she shook.

  “I have plans,” she said.

  “Am I in them?”

  “They don’t include working with James.”

  Camden shrugged. “Didn’t really want to do that anyway. It was the first thing I thought of to do that wasn’t the DEA and might bring me closer to you.”

  “I’m going to stay at my friend’s house in the mountains for a while. Take a sabbatical from life in general. Maybe even move up there.”

  “Alone in the mountains?” His eyebrows rose, crinkled. She knew exactly what he was thinking. She was thinking the same thing.

  He could come with her. A week or two of intense lovemaking, living alone in a mountain house where it took twenty minutes just to get to town, would definitely show her whether or not a long-term relationship with him would work.

  “I don’t even know what your real last name is.”

  “O’Neill. Camden Alexander O’Neill.”

  “O’Neill?”

  “My ancestors were Irish. See, I have an O in my last name, too.”

  She considered the name, swallowed her next words. It wouldn’t be too hard to switch to O’Neill if it came to that.

  Whoa, slow down, she told herself. “You haven’t known me long enough to love me,” she told him.

  “I know I’ve never felt this intensely about anyone in my life. I know I’ve never wanted to sleep with a woman more than twice and wake up beside her in the morning. I know I’ve never wanted to give up my career, even myself, for a woman.”

  “I’m not asking you to do that.”

  “I want to do it. I once heard being in love meant you couldn’t live without that person, and if you had to, you’d be miserable. I don’t want to spend my life without you.”

  “It took you three weeks to decide this?”

  “I wanted to know how I felt for sure. I didn’t feel like you deserved any more bullshit.”

  Her heart nestled softly in her chest at his words. She’d exposed her soul to him and he knew exactly what she’d been through. “You’ll have to learn to use the door and stop barging in and scaring me,” she said.

  “I can learn to do that.”

  Fear overcame her hope for a future with this man, and she spoke those fears. “You’ll regret giving up your career later. You’ll resent me.”

  Camden laughed, more like a scoff, and took her hands in his. He held her gaze while she held her breath.

  “I can honestly say I’ve never been in love before,” Camden said. “Never wanted to be. If you don’t love me right now, I understand. Just give me a chance, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure you fall.”

  ***

  She was falling, all right.

  Camden had fallen, too, practically over his own two feet, when he got to have dinner with the infamous Wesley Joel Webb. If that wasn’t enough, they stayed in Wesley’s house for the past few weeks while Rayma searched for her own. Camden was in awe of the rooms lined with trophies and plaques, Wesley’s shop of fix-up cars—they already planned on working on them together—and the man’s all-around good nature. Wesley, in turn, was in awe of Camden.

  Yes, she was falling, each and every time he nibbled her earlobe, grabbed her hand for a leisurely hike in the mountains, or walked into a home she was considering buying and given his take on it. She respected his opinion, and after all, he could be living with her in the near future.

  She was afraid when the weeks turned to months that he’d get bored. He’d want his old life back—undercover work, being someone else. It offered a challenge, and excitement. Where was the challenge now?

  “The challenge is figuring out how to make you happy in a different way, every day, for the rest of my life,” he’d said.

  Rayma knew when she’d walked into the home of her dreams. It was perched on a mountainside, a stream running in a canyon below, with tall pines looming around. A built-in pool accompanied the mountain slope and it only took five minutes to get into town.

  For the first time in her life, she bought a house, with money she’d saved and the advance she’d received for her memoir about her underco
ver life.

  “I have an idea,” Camden said on the night she moved in. He’d fixed an elaborate meal complete with wine and candles, and served it on the deck overlooking the mountains. “I’m thinking of opening my own restaurant around here.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. And if we really wanted to get into it, we could invest in some log cabins, make a small resort with cottages and a restaurant.”

  “We?” she asked, smiling.

  He moved in closer and grabbed her hands. “I don’t ever want to do anything without you again,” he said.

  “What will you do when you get bored?”

  “With you? Hah. As if.”

  “I was thinking about opening my own private investigator business,” Rayma said.

  “There is that. But I don’t care if I never have to investigate anything again as long as I live.” She laughed, and he brought her face in to meet his. “Except the inside of you.”

  He kissed her, long and languidly. “I never want to see sand or ocean again,” Rayma said when they pulled apart.

  “Oh? And here I was thinking we could have our honeymoon in Barbados.”

  “Honeymoon?”

  That was when he chose to present her with a small, black box that could only mean one thing. Eyes wide, she took it. “Are you looking for an investment partner?” she teased.

  “Yes. You, to invest the rest of your life with me.”

  He slipped the ring on her finger. She said yes, right before she pulled his mouth to hers.

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  About the Author

  Angela Smith is a Texas native and was dubbed most likely to write a novel during her senior year in high school since she always had her nose stuck in a book. Although high school was decades ago, the dream began when her mom read ‘Brer Rabbit’ to her and her sister so often they could recite it back to each other before ever learning to read. Research is one of her favorite parts of piecing together a story, and she loves creating new characters. Angela started with writing romantic suspense and is branching into other genres, but she hasn’t been able to write one yet where falling in love doesn’t come into play. She works as a certified paralegal and office manager at her local District Attorney’s office and spends her free time with her husband and the animals on her small farm. Although life in general keeps her very busy, her passion for writing and getting the stories out of her head tends to make her restless if she isn’t following what some people call her destiny.

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