Then She Saved Him

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 1

It was a joke. Had to be. Camille Blake sat back against her desk chair, studied the blank walls of her tiny office, and counted to twenty, praying for patience—and when that didn’t work, she counted to fifty.

Nope, her throat was still tight.

Worse, her body was still overheated.

From fury, she told herself. It has to be another one of Jamie’s stupid jokes.

Only when she re-read the text on her cell phone’s screen, she wasn’t so sure her response had anything to do with anger.

Hope you’re ready to take what you want.

Because Wyatt’s ready to give you everything.

The mental image slammed into her all over again—Wyatt on his back, his gorgeous body stripped naked for her enjoyment. Take what she wanted?

How she needed.

The idea snatched her breath away, which only pissed her off even more.

I’m going to kill him with a rusty spoon, she thought, grabbing her desk phone and speed-dialing her baby brother.

After two rings, Jamie picked up. There was laughter in the background and plenty of music. It sounded like a party, but it wasn’t. It was rehearsal night at Agatha’s, a local dinner mystery theater company.

“Hey, sis,” Jamie said. “How’d the meeting go?”

“Not bad.” Actually, that wasn’t quite true. It had gone great—mostly because Camille lived at the office and felt no detail was too small to agonize over. She had to. Real estate development was cutthroat enough. But being the only woman on staff who wasn’t running copies or coffee? It sucked.

She frowned. Well, it didn’t entirely suck. The work was amazing. She was revitalizing neighborhoods, making a difference…

It was her coworkers who sucked.

And now Jamie was pulling one of his infamous practical jokes and she was so not in the mood.

Camille rolled her shoulders and felt her neck pop. “Let’s get to the point: Did you really think I would fall for it?”

“Fall for what?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

“I have zero clue what you’re talking about.”

“The dating app you had me sign up for!” She winced, glancing at her closed office door. Surely no one could overhear her, but in case they did she dropped her voice to a hiss: “It was another one of your jokes. You totally overplayed your hand when you matched me with Wyatt Murphy.”

Just saying his name spiked Camille’s blood pressure. Her brother’s best friend was a trust fund baby, a playboy, and an all-around jackass—and she should know since they’d been around each other since Wyatt was eight and Camille was nine.

“I don’t understand,” Jamie said slowly. “The dating app matched you with Wyatt?”

“Don’t do that. You matched me with your little sidekick. I should’ve known the whole thing was a joke the minute you told me the name An Indecent Apposal. Very funny. Very punny.”

For a full minute, Jamie didn’t say a word. Camille glared at her computer screen, listening as someone in her brother’s background talked about the importance of performance art. Cam was with the woman until she mentioned her taxidermied animal collection. That was just weird, no matter how (apparently) cute the animals’ matching outfits were.

“Earth to Jamie,” she finally said., fingers drumming against her desk again “You’re busted. Honestly, after the keys, I expected better from you.”

“That was a pretty good prank.”

“Not really.” Which, if Camille were being honest, wasn’t exactly the truth. The prank had been kind of genius.

Jamie and his best friend, Wyatt, had found a huge box of old keys in her parents’ attic—hundreds and hundreds—so like the complete delinquents they were, they grouped them together in handfuls, added them to keychains, labelled the keychains with funny names…

And added Camille’s cell phone number.

Then they drove all over Atlanta, dropping the sets off in random locations. For months, she’d gotten well-meaning phone calls about her ‘lost keys.’

At first, she’d been confused. Later, she’d been annoyed. Much, much later, she’d been amused—not that Camille had ever told Jamie. He didn’t need the encouragement.

Her brother sucked in a long breath, turning their connection into a wind tunnel. “I promise you that An Indecent Apposal is real and I had nothing to do with you being matched with Wyatt. If you’re matched, you’re matched. He’s your soulmate.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sure.”

“I swear on Meme’s life, Cams. I had nothing to do with this. The app is freaky, sort of magic, and way above my skill level.”

Camille opened her mouth to argue and paused. Her brother might have a point. Jamie was brilliant at all things artistic, but electronics tended to die in his hands. Horribly. Her Mac had never been the same after he’d tried to log into his email. Writing the code for a dating app was beyond him.

She gritted her teeth. “Fine. Then it was Wyatt’s idea.”

Jamie made a non-committal noise, something between a hmm and an ugh. “Yeah, it’s a bit beyond Wyatt as well. I mean, he could certainly afford to hire someone to create a fake app, but not like this and not with you. If you’ve been matched it’s because you’re meant to be together. The app is never wrong.”

Black spots dotted Camille’s vision. She rolled her neck again, feeling it the muscles strain. Tension.

And, really, who could blame her? First, work was being even more heinous than usual. Second, her grandmother, Meme, was on a tear. And third—

Jamie made a tsk-ing noise. “Huh.”

“Huh?” She sat a little straighter. “That’s all you have to say?”

“Well…yeah.” Something thunked on her brother’s end, probably a door because all the background noise suddenly dulled. “I’m not surprised he’s your match. You two are perfect for each other. What else am I supposed to say?”

“Just because we’re matched doesn’t mean we’re settling down to live happily ever after.”

“Oh, but it does.” Jamie’s tone turned indulgent and smug, and briefly, Camille’s thoughts swung back to that rusty spoon. “I need you to trust me.”

“Trust you?” she echoed. “When I was ten, you put clear glue in my Purel hand-sanitizer.”

“Cams…”

“Senior year, you put a picture of that creepy girl from The Ring in my bathroom window like she was staring at me.”

Jamie giggled. “Okay, yeah, that was shitty of me, but do you know how long that one took for you to notice?”

“I was in the middle of exams! I was focused!”

“You had tunnel-vision. You have tunnel-vision. Besides, let’s think about what that was like for me. I had to wait three days before you finally noticed, and when you did, you punched my arm so hard I bruised.”

“You’re lucky all I did was punch your arm.”

“Damn right. I could’ve ended up with a cracked skull. Your right hook is something else.”

It was kind of sort of a compliment, but Camille found herself scowling even more. Why did she have a wicked right hook? Because Wyatt had taught her. Someone had picked on Jamie at school and Camille had wanted revenge.

Only she never got that far because she was pretty sure Wyatt got to the bully first.

Yes, fine, she thought. So he’s a trust fund baby, a party boy, and occasionally, a first-rate human being.

He’s also gorgeous, her brain reminded her.

Stupid brain. He might be gorgeous and he might sometimes do the right thing, but he’d never worked a day in his life—unless Camille counted getting his picture put in the tabloids.

Which she did not.

“I log eighty-hour weeks,” she said. “I have a career. If this app thinks I should be matched with a manwhore, it’s useless.”

“It’s not useless. It matched me with David.”

Her heart clutched hard. That was true. An Indecent Apposal had paired Jamie with a beautiful, sensitive, caring man from the Atlanta’s westside art scene. They were perfect for each other.

So perfect Camille had wanted the same thing for herself and agreed to accept Jamie’s invitation to join the super-exclusive app.

Could Wyatt be a good match for her?

Another image of his lean, naked body battered her. Technically, she’d never seen him entirely naked, but he’d gone swimming enough at their house that she could guess and those guesses turned her core molten.

She took a shaky breath. “If this is one of your jokes, I will burn all your Liza Minelli wigs so help me God.”

“First of all?” Indignation tilted her brother’s voice skyward. She could totally picture how he was holding up one finger to underscore his point. “No, you wouldn’t because you know I need those wigs for the upcoming show. Second of all? A possibly-magical dating app would take a lot of work to pull off, and frankly, teasing you isn’t nearly as fun as it used to be. I have better things to do.”

“Thanks?”

“You’re welcome.” Jamie took a deep breath. “I don’t understand. Why can’t Wyatt be your match?”

“Because that would be ridiculous.” But her voice had gone smaller than it should’ve and they both heard it. Camille cleared her throat, finding herself. “Beyond ridiculous.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because that’s why!” Because it would mean she needed a possibly-magical dating app to show her what was right under her nose. Because it would mean her match was a trust fund baby with a serious penchant for practical jokes and zero work-ethic.

Because it would mean she’d been lonely for all this time and she hadn’t had to be.

Ugh. That wasn’t a pleasant thought. At all. She pushed the idea away, focusing instead on how there was zero way someone like her could be accurately matched with a party boy.

Who wants to give you everything, her body reminding her, warming.

“Wyatt Murphy is a manwhore,” she finally managed.

“Jeez.” Jamie made a disgusted noise. “He’s not that bad.”

“Really? Because People magazine would beg to differ—not that I would know all the particulars. I just see stuff in the grocery store checkout line.”

Another sigh—and if Cams had to bet, another wince—as Jamie considered this. He’d always had a hard time admitting Wyatt’s faults. “Okay, yeah, there were a few actresses. But he’s been in love with you since practically…forever.”

“Forever is a very weighty word to throw around before wine.”

“Please. Like you drink wine, but whatever. Fine. He’s been in love with you since he first saw you. Is that better?”

“No.” And it really wasn’t because her stomach had just dipped like she was on some rollercoaster that would not let up.

Which was ridiculous.

This whole thing was some elaborate joke. Had to be. The more she thought about it, there was no way An Indecent Apposal was real…and had matched her with the cocky heir to the Murphy fortunes.

Her cell buzzed.

“Did you get another text?” her brother asked.

“Yeah, hang on. We’ve had some issues on one of the job sites. It’s probably one of my foremen.”

“I bet it’s not. It’s the app.”

Camille swiped to the notification, read it…and her face went hot.

No, nuclear.

She cleared her throat. “Well, you would know what text I’m getting, wouldn’t you? This is all your idea.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

As a matter of fact, she would. She’d also tell herself she was completely in control, and because she was completely in control, she read the message once more.

Oh and Camille? You’re going to love when he makes you beg.