Page 17 of Craving

What—

What was he doing?

He’d been living with Camilla for mere days, and he was going to jump in and install a full security system for her? For free? She didn’t need him to swoop in and save the day. A bunch of bored kids had broken her window; it wasn’t the end of the world. Marlon was acting like an overbearing prick.

Camilla owned a business. She had insurance. A vandalized window was a normal hiccup that happened during normal business operations. She’d figure it out.

Marlon was falling into old patterns. He was acting like a savior, a protector. But he didn’t want to be. He didn’t need to be. This reaction was probably some messed-up chemical imbalance caused by the two sleepless nights he’d spent thinking about Camilla lying down only a few rooms over from him. He was just horny, and it was coming out in weird ways.

Marlon straightened. “Actually, forget it,” he told Elton.

“What?”

He was already walking away. “Never mind.”

“So you don’t need the security system?”

“Nah.”

Angry at himself, he ignored Cormac’s curious stare and sat behind his computer to figure out the rest of the Winter Festival roster. Tonight, he’d have a nice, long (or, more likely, short) session with himself and his hand. Once he wasn’t so keyed up and horny, it would fix his brain—and get Camilla out of it.

His phone rang, and he was grateful for the distraction. “Elite Security,” he clipped.

“Hi. I’m calling about a quote I received last week. I’d like to go ahead with the project. My name is Frank Smith, and I asked about your premium alarm system package for my business premises.”

It only took a moment to pull up the quote. “Hi, Mr. Smith. Glad to hear you’d like to proceed. I can schedule you in with our technicians as early as next week. Does Monday work for you?”

“Monday would be great.”

Marlon shoved all thoughts of Camilla aside. These were the types of jobs he should be taking: ones that actually made his business money.

SIX

Camilla reviewed a quote from a glazing company and tried to keep her breathing even. This was a blip, nothing more. Yesterday, the bakery had been so busy she’d made enough to pay for the materials, so all she had to do was come up with the money for the labor and the new decal, and she’d have a brand-new window. No big deal.

Or rather, it wouldn’t be a big deal if she didn’t have a ten-thousand-dollar blade hanging above her neck.

Hyperventilating wouldn’t solve any problems, but it sure was tempting to do it anyway.

Then the bakery’s office phone rang.

“The Sweetest Thing, how may I help you?”

“Camilla Fox?” The voice on the other side of the line was gruff.

“This is she.”

“Fred Goodhew here. Nadia and I are interested in ordering a cake for our wedding. We need enough cake to feed five hundred people, and the wedding is in four weeks, on the first weekend of December.”

The date made Camilla jerk. That’s when she had to pay her late fee or lose her business.

Fred continued: “I know it’s short notice, and I apologize. Can you manage that?”

Could she manage that? Camilla just about jumped so high her head hit the ceiling out of sheer excitement. She blocked the mouthpiece of the phone and silently cheered, alone in her office. Then, composing herself, she put the phone to her ear and said, “That shouldn’t be a problem. Did you have a particular design in mind?”

“I’ll put Nadia on. One moment.” There was a rustle, then his fiancée’s voice said, “Camilla? You can do it? I know it’s last-minute, but our cake decorator just fell through the day before yesterday, and—”

“It’s no problem at all. Would you and Fred like to come in for a consultation and a tasting? If we nail down the flavors and the design, I can give you a detailed quote. And just to let you know, I do require a fifty percent deposit up front, with the other fifty percent required before the day of the event. Is that acceptable to you?”

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