Bad for Business (Pembroke Hills, #2)

by Kat Singleton

This book is for anyone that’s ever felt unlovable. Someday the right person is going to show you that loving you is the easiest thing in the world to do.

People always like to call me cold, but they’d be wrong. I have a heart, which is unfortunate for me because I know I don’t have the time to explain to him that something came up with work, but I also don’t have it in me to fully ditch him.

It’s embarrassing to be told you need a babysitter. It’s even worse to be told that a woman you had a very heated, passionate night with months ago is the one assigned to do it.

As a reader storyline SLAPS

“This isn’t up for debate. We called the meeting to let you both know that you have a private plane flying out tomorrow at eight. You’ll both be on it.”

Sign me up.

I can’t see her eyes, thanks to the oversized pair of sunglasses she wears, but I don’t have to make eye contact with her to know she’s probably glaring at me.

“You can lie to me all you want, but I remember your screams and moans of pleasure. There were a lot of them.”

I give her a wolfish grin. “You think I’m good-looking?” Her eyes narrow on me as her entire face pinches together. “Oh, stop it, Ryker; you know that you’re good-looking. Please don’t come fishing for compliments.”

He gives me that grin I’m beginning to loathe.

“Just so I can prepare myself, are you always this stubborn?”

“If you want to help, you can listen to me when I say I don’t need your help.”

She curses under her breath as she deals with the consequences of her stubbornness. I try not to smile as I walk up to the keypad and type in the code to get in.

Mom always used to make sure the house was filled with the flowers every time we visited. I swallow, the constant ache in my chest over the death of my mother intensifying. It’s almost been a year since we lost her to breast cancer and as I walk into the empty Hamptons house—the one she loved so much—the loss of her cuts deeper.

Her eyes are still mesmerizing. Although now that I’ve seen them in the daylight, I’m realizing they’re more of a mix between blue and green instead of being just blue like I originally thought. Camille

I look over my shoulder, finding him leaning against the doorframe.

hot in every book

“Oh fuck,” I mutter under my breath, sitting up straighter in my chair as I realize that the angry look on her face might actually scare me a little.

wearing that scowl that seems to be saved just for me as well.

I need out of this damn house. I need to see other people who aren’t Camille Vaughn. Maybe then I won’t be thinking about what she looks like underneath her clothes.

“I’m sorry. I don’t exactly remember asking for your opinion on my outfit.”

“Oh, I’m well aware. Tell me, do you plan every single second of your day? Or do you just get off on planning mine?” “I don’t get off on anything that has to do with you, thank you very much.” I smirk as I cock my head to the side. “Really? I remember you loving the thing I did with my tongue.”

Reason i started this book...AHAHZSJJA

“You could’ve given me a warning.” “And miss you screaming like that? No, thanks.”

I think I prefer the annoying one. At least then, I know what to expect.

“No time for murder right now,” Ryker quips. He doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest that people are staring at us. “I’ve got to go crack a nut.”

“I’m not upset,” I lie. Or maybe it isn’t a lie. I don’t fucking know. “You’re something,” Camille responds, her words breaking me from my thoughts.

I’ve never contemplated murder before, but I guess there’s a first time for everything and I might just kill Ryker Davenport.

“Why do you care?” he responds. The charming, smiling golden boy that was on display for the two girls he was talking to is all but gone. On his face, there’s only coldness and detachment as he stares back at me.

It’s my turn to glare at him. “What can I say? Camille brings out the worst in me.” “What an honor,” Camille fires back, her face pinching together.

I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. I don’t know what to say to her. She’s doing exactly what I want her to do. She’s leaving me alone. But for some reason, the look on her face doesn’t sit right with me.

Guilt washes over me as I wonder if I might regret telling her I want to get rid of her. The words are true; I do want to get rid of her. But I didn’t tell her that the biggest reason I need to get away from her is because she’s infiltrating my dreams and my mind, and I hate it.

“Why were you in the employee locker room, and why were you talking about kicking me in the balls?” he asks, his eyebrows slightly furrowed as he watches me closely.

This earns me another glare from Camille. To be fair, I think glaring is her default.

But being here in the Hamptons has made me feel different. I still miss her with a deep ache in my bones, but being in the home she loved so much has opened my eyes some. She wouldn’t be proud of the man I was turning into after her death, and that’s not something I can live with.

“Are you going to answer, or are you just going to scowl at me?” Camille’s frown deepens. “I don’t scowl. That causes wrinkles.”

I stare at her for a moment. My jaw aches from how hard I clench it. I want to ask her why it’s so hard for her to trust me to do something on my own. I bite my tongue, desperate to know if it’s just her being a control freak or if she truly thinks I can’t handle an afternoon on a yacht without messing up our progress.

I cock my head to the side. “I don’t understand. What does your inability to focus have anything to do with me?” He laughs. This one is darker than his normal one. There’s a huskiness to it. One that makes my skin erupt with goosebumps again. “Trust me, I wish I understood, princess.

“Martini, extra dirty, just a splash of vermouth, and six olives instead of three. That’s your order, is it not?” My fingers tighten around the stem of the glass. That’s exactly my order. I just don’t know how he knows that. I must’ve ordered it at the club at some point.

“I’m just not an olive person,” I lie again. I don’t know why I feel the need to lie to him. I love olives. And the dirtier the martini, the better. I’m just annoyed that he knows my order.

“As much as you’d like to forget about it, we shared a night together. You told me all about your love of olives and how you sometimes have to sweet-talk bartenders into giving you an extra spear of them.” I freeze. I hadn’t even thought about that. It was months ago. A small thing like my drink order is not something I was expecting him to remember.

“Aw, look, she listens,” Ryker drawls. The smirk he gives me is lethal.

“Good girl,” he adds, his voice low. My cheeks get hot. In fact, everything gets hot.

“Easy there, princess. You don’t want to get sloppy. It was just supposed to take the edge off.”

Ryker laughs. “Fine. But just try to look a little less…scared. I need to focus, and I can’t do it if I’m worried you’re going to jump overboard and swim for the shore.”

Was he going to touch me? Surely not. Fuck. What is happening on this boat? I need off it.

His gaze stays pinned on mine. I can’t move. Not with the way he’s looking at me right now. His eyes search mine, and I can’t help but wonder what he’s looking for.

Camille smiles. It’s a real smile. And damn…my stomach does that flip again.

We’re almost to the house when I feel Camille’s gaze against my cheek. I risk a glance over at her, shocked to find her smiling. I lift an eyebrow, my own smile blooming on my lips because I’m just not used to seeing her smile so freely.

Camille giggles. An actual fucking giggle. And the feeling is no longer a flip of my stomach. It’s a punch to the gut. A hand squeezing my heart. I feel that fucking giggle throughout my entire body.

I’d do anything she asked of me right now. I don’t tell her that. All I do is put the SUV in reverse and back out of the driveway. Who knows how she’ll act in the morning. She might go back to hating me.

“Sure,” I finally answer her. “Whatever you want, princess.”

I turn around, finding him walking toward me. He still wears his suit from the evening. I try not to think about how good he looks in it.

“She would’ve loved you,” he repeats, his words confident and full of conviction.