Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 128083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
“Err . . .”
Later, when she was alone, Posey brought her fingers to her lips and recalled the way his mouth had felt on hers. Why had she enjoyed it? Why did she like the way he confounded her? It made no sense. She did a few calculations, but without clear variables, no answers were forthcoming.
Chapter Forty-Three
There he was—Hollis Barclay in the flesh. Even after all these years, Cami had expected to experience more emotions when she saw him. In some ways, in her mind, Hollis remained the golden boy, a frozen part of that sparkling, gilded era right before she’d lost everything of value to her. But other times, all she could remember of him was his backside as he’d raced for the door, abandoning her and their child.
But now? Now she felt neither nostalgia nor bitterness. She only felt a mild sense of distaste as she watched him with his plastered-on smile, moving from one donor to the next, shaking hands and taking photos, the consummate politician.
He was still the best-looking man in the room. He’d be any woman’s dream if said woman only wanted to go skin deep and was also searching for an antihero who would beat it out of Dodge at the first hint of challenge.
Good luck, state of Virginia.
She approached from the side, moving with the throng of people attempting to get his attention. Someone jostled her, and she stepped forward just as Hollis turned, and they collided. He gripped her upper arms, his mouth opening to greet her and then shutting, his lips returning to that same smile. It barely faltered, but it did falter, and she took satisfaction in the minuscule wobble. “Camille Cortlandt?” He let go of her arms and took a step back so he could look her up and down. “My God, how long has it been?”
“Eleven years,” she said. “Hi, Hollis.”
He stared and then leaned in and kissed her cheek, lingering for a moment in a way that made her want to push him away. She never wanted this man to touch her again. Not even in casual greeting. “You look fantastic,” he said, and his expression told her he meant it. “You haven’t aged a day.”
“Hollis, the Nelsons would like to meet you.” The staffer who’d interrupted them leaned in closer, but Cami heard his whisper. “They’re the ones who just made the six-figure donation.”
“I’ll be right there,” Hollis told the man. “This is an old friend from school.”
He turned back to her with a smile that was tighter than it’d been before. Now she was bothering him and keeping him from his six-figure friends. “What are you doing here?” he asked. He attempted to make it sound light and conversational, but it came out annoyed. Before she could answer, he glanced over her shoulder and lifted his hand in greeting to someone more important. It was clear he was ready to move on.
“I’m here to see you about something important. Can I have a minute?”
Another falter. Another dip of his smile.
“I promise not to take up more than ten minutes of your time,” she said, her words quickened. She realized he was about to be pulled away in any number of directions at any moment, and she refused to leave without speaking to him. And it dawned on her in a way it only could in a moment like that: She was no longer the timid girl willing to let Hollis Barclay dismiss her. She had business with him, and she was going to insist it was seen to if she had to shout it out in front of this crowd.
Hollis smiled at someone passing by and patted his shoulder. “See you Tuesday,” he said, pointing his finger and giving the man an exaggerated wink. Then he turned back to Cami. “Uh, sure. Yeah.” He signaled the staffer still hovering nearby. “Ronny, take her backstage to the dressing room?”
Cami hesitated, worried he was sending her to some faraway room where he’d never show. But aside from screaming out her business right here like she’d thought about, she was left little choice. “Please don’t keep me waiting long,” she said.
Again, annoyance flashed in his eyes, but he acquiesced with a tip of his chin. She turned and followed Ronny around the stage, up a short flight of stairs, and down a hall. “There are some soft drinks and water in there. Help yourself,” Ronny said, pointing at a door.
“Thanks.” She went inside and, mostly because she wasn’t sure what to do, she grabbed a bottle of water and paced the small space, which featured a lighted mirror with a chair and a love seat on the opposite wall.
She’d assumed he’d leave her waiting, and so when she heard footsteps coming toward the room a minute later, she wondered if it was the same staffer returning to tell her Hollis couldn’t meet with her after all. But the man himself walked through the door, and even mustered another smile that looked less annoyed this time. “Let me guess,” he said, “you’re writing a book about what happened to your family and want to interview me to add some current relevance.”