More Than a Playboy by Monique DeVere Read Free Book Online

looking slimmer than when he’d last seen her, hands clasped in her lap as the sun highlighted the gloss in her rich golden curls. Her gaze landed on him with an arrested expression as she jumped to her feet.
    His heart tripped.
    She wore faded blue jeans with frayed slashes too symmetrical to have been the result of age and a soft, plum-coloured long-sleeved cotton top, which hugged her flat stomach and firm breasts the way he wanted to. The sight of her, the fragrance of her intoxicating scent filling his senses had his heart throbbing against the tightness in his chest.
    He stepped inside. No woman had ever undone him like this before. Not even when he was a skinny, moody teen in the throes of his first infatuation. Cameron clenched his jaw. Not only had Sandy stepped all over his heart, she’d done so while giving his pride a swift kick. He doubted she came here today to declare her love for him.
    His gaze zeroed in on her lush pink lips. How many times had he relived that kiss? Even two weeks on the memory still lingered.
    Hurt pride became the antidote to his physiological reactions. Cameron hardened his voice, instilled a mimicry of hostility to hide how much she’d hurt him and said, “Hello, Sandy.”
    WHEN CAMERON stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, Sandy’s heart tried to leap out of her chest.
    Shirtless, he knocked the breath out of her. Her palms itched to travel over his wide, tanned shoulders, and solid biceps with the bulge of blue veins snaking under the surface of skin covering the defined muscles.
    She longed to explore the contours of his chest with its smattering of silky dark hair that ran a happy trail down his flat, muscle-defined belly to disappear into the waistband of jeans that rode low on his hips. Since his kiss, she’d been plagued with endless fantasies. Looking at him now she realised her imagination hadn’t done his sculpted body much justice.
    She’d come to apologise to Cameron for running out on him, explain why she did it, then get her life back to normal.
    Two weeks at her Grandparents’ house in Cambridge had turned out to be a valuable part of her grieving process. She had found her mother’s diary—a documentation of torment—in one of the storage boxes her Gran had kept containing her mother’s belongings.
    She’d discovered that Penny had been far more distraught than Sandy could have imagined, and her heart had gone out to the mother who, despite her desire not to live without her lover, had made the effort for her child’s sake. She now knew her mother’s periodic melancholy had started with her broken heart, which postnatal depression had exacerbated until it had culminated in her mother losing the twelve-year battle.
    “I owe you an apology for the way I behaved the night of the ball.”
    He folded his arms across his naked chest, his gaze never leaving hers. “You don’t owe me anything, Sandy.”
    The more she thought about that night, the more nervous she became. No matter how much her reaction had shamed her or how much she wanted to bury the incident and forget about it, her actions must have hurt Cameron.
    “I do.” Her stomach pitched with nerves and trepidation at his unyielding air. His expression told her beyond words that he wasn’t going to make this easy for her. “You shocked me that night, and I handled it badly. You’re the first man to have ever said those words to me.” Realising how pathetic she sounded Sandy added, “Not because I never date because I do. I’ve never let anyone get that close.”
    Cameron remained impassive, watching her with a blank expression that made her want to run for the door.
    Sandy hesitated. Maybe this wasn’t a brilliant idea after all.
    “Continue. I’m listening.” He must have noticed her eyeing the door behind him.
    She moved to the sofa. When she’d decided to come and see Cameron today Sandy hadn’t expected him to welcome her with opened arms, but nor did she expect his