Page 44 of All the Drama from New York

The contestants had been forced to eat Hákarl, the infamous rotten shark dish which originated from Iceland. No one onBachelors on the Beachhad managed to finish their first mouthful, and the prize of a week’s luxury cruise in the Bahamas had gone begging.

“They had to do some clever editing of that episode. I think we all threw up.”

He set the breakfast pack on the bench, and as he took out the various containers, Ryan slowly shook his head. “You really did watch the entire series, didn’t you? I’m never going to live it down.”

Camille caught the uneasiness in his words. The worry that she would eventually drag up every excruciating moment ofBachelors on the Beach. And that he would have to suffer her never ending questions about it.

She touched a hand to his arm. “Sorry. I did promise not to bring the program up, and now I have.”

The sly smile he gave her in response went straight to Camille’s sex. She was a sucker for flirting with him, but that smile. Oh boy.

To her somewhat relief Ryan didn’t allow the situation to escalate, he simply unpacked the food, and arranged it on the kitchen countertop. Removing the lids from the containers he remarked, “I might have to miss a few more trains if this is the sort of food you get for breakfast.”

Camille took up her place on the stool next to the one where Ryan had sat. Their bodies were mere inches apart.

This is all very close and cozy.

His words had sparked an idea in her mind. A dangerous one, but one she couldn’t resist. “There is a chance that we will be working long hours over the next couple of months. Perhaps you staying here during the week isn’t such a bad idea.” Camille swallowed deep and added, “But of course if your girlfriend isn’t comfortable with that arrangement I’ll just make sure you have access to an Uber account and you can go home each night.”

Please don’t let him have a girlfriend.

Then again if Ryan did have a partner, it might help kill off the hot crush she had going for him. Might kill it stone dead.

He had an obvious but easy charm about him, something few women would be able to resist. Of course he would have a girlfriend.

Ryan piled a large Japanese pancake onto a plate and handed it to Camille. “What makes you think I have a girlfriend?”

From the way he spoke it sounded like he’d guessed she was fishing. Which in truth she was, she had to know one way or the other if he was off limits. If there was a girlfriend on the scene, then this sort of teasing would end here and now. Camille would never knowingly break another woman’s heart.

“I just assumed you would have a girlfriend. Or maybe a boyfriend. You just don’t strike me as the sort of man to be single.”

Oh my god, Camille will you please shut up.

They were treading on dangerous ground. Ryan would be well within his rights to call Camille out on her deeply personal questions. On the way she was behaving. Too many lines were being crossed, too fast.

“No. I don’t have a girlfriend. And the only male living in my apartment is my brother, who is currently on assignment for a sports magazine in Tahiti.”

Focusing her attention on her pancake, she cutting into it with all the attention of a skilled tailor. Stuffing a chunk of it intoher mouth, Camille chewed slowly, hoping that Ryan would be the one to decide where this conversation went.

She prayed it didn’t end up with him asking for the details of her Uber account.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Ryan was desperately trying to think with his head—the one which contained his brain, not the other little one. It was a hard fought battle. Camille was sending him signals at a hundred miles an hour.

The way her voice had deepened to a sultry tone when she’d said he didn’t seem like a man who was single.

The way she sat in her chair, with her body angled toward him.

Every single breath she took.

And every one of those signals was flashing brightly, ‘hey, you and me. How about it?’

If she were any other girl, he would have already made a move. But Camille Royal wasn’t just any girl. She came from billionaire level wealth. She was a successful fashion designer. And she was from the internationally famous Royal family. People like them didn’t slum it with people like him.

Not to mention that she was his boss.

That last thought sealed it for him. He needed this job. The generous salary, along with paid overtime, which came with this gig was something he couldn’t live without.

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