Page 17 of Be Mine Forever

“Will you pay for my doctor’s bill? You just gave me whiplash with that subject change. You can hide it from Cam, but you don’t have to hide it from me. That’s what friends are for.”

“Oh, friends dole out advice loosely based on cheesy Dionne Warwick songs?”

“You can run, but you can’t hide.”

“I’m sure that’s a song, too.” Jo used the keycard Cam had left on the counter for her to open the door. “I’ll talk to you later. Have something original to say.”

“Once you and Cam do the nasty, I’ll have lots original to say.”

Jo caught herself from tripping over her own feet. Cam stood in the kitchen in hanging-low-on-the-hips sweats and a T-shirt withFRENCH MEstretched across the muscles of his chest. His grin reassured her Meredith’s big-mouth voice hadn’t carried.

“Gotta go. See you later at the hospital.”

Cam dipped a thick slice of bread in the egg mixture and placed it on a sizzling skittle.

“Good run?” He kept one eye on the toast while he started whisking eggs.

Jo laid her cell and earphones on the counter, settling onto the leather stool.

“Pretty good. I love running in New York.”

“What are you up to now?”

“About ten miles a day.”

“Wow. Well, you look amazing.” He didn’t look away from the eggs he was salting and peppering. “I mean, you’ve always looked amazing. I can just tell—”

“I know what you mean.” She kept her eyes as careful as the slow sip she took of the steaming coffee he’d set in front of her. “Did you sleep well?”

He paused in his whisking but didn’t look up. He poured the eggs into the pan before answering.

“Yeah. I slept fine. I wanted to sketch some and didn’t want to disturb Etty, so I just took the couch.”

As badly as Jo wanted to ask him about the sketches of her she had seen, she didn’t. He held tension in his broad shoulders, as if braced for her next question.

“So how long are you here in New York, Cam?”

She watched, fascinated, as his shoulders lowered a few inches and the firm, beautiful line of his mouth relaxed.

“I’m not sure.” Cam plated her French toast, sliding it to her across the counter. “Sebastian wanted me to scope some galleries for my first official exhibit.”

“That’s great.” Jo said the words around the delicious caramel goodness dissolving in her mouth. “Also great? This French toast! Have you been cooking a lot while you’re here?”

“Nope. First time. Been eating out every day and night.”

Jo slowed her chewing, noting the makings of her favorite omelet on the counter. Shitake mushrooms, spinach, and turkey bacon. Those weren’t items you’d have just lying around in the fridge of a suite like this, even if it was more of an apartment than a hotel room. Especially if he hadn’t been cooking. Jo computed all the information and landed on a conclusion that raced straight from her brain to her never-does-learn heart.

“Did you get all this stuff just for me? This morning?”

Cam frowned, folding the omelet with much more concentration than it should require. He finally turned the burner off and looked at her, eyes guarded.

“It was nothing.”

“But did you have to go out? I could have ordered room service.”

“There’s a grocer up the street.” Cam slid the omelet onto a plate for her. “I wanted to at least give you a home-cooked breakfast.”

“Is that supposed to make up for six months of pretending I don’t exist?” Jo gave her usually checked irritation a little free rein.

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