The Dysfunctional Test

Chapter 10

"Justin Horton, you didn't tell us you lived in a hotel." Baba's jaw dropped.

Camryn rolled her eyes. Only her grandmother could make that sound like an insult. They exited the car the Hortons had sent for them. Scratch that, the limo they'd sent.

Justin rubbed the back of his neck and turned six shades of red. "Um, well-it's not that big."

It was that big. Camryn looked at the sprawling gray brick fortress in front of them. It took five minutes to get from the road to the front door, and past a ten-foot wrought iron security fence. Easily three floors high, the house had to be ten thousand square feet. The garage was bigger than her parents' house. The yard could've held a wedding three times the size of Justin and Heather's. And the Kentucky Derby. Around the side, she could just make out the edge of an in-ground pool.

Now she understood why Heather had been so nervous.

A woman exited the front door and walked right to Justin. "It's so good to have you home!" Justin looked just like her with light brown hair and a thin, angular face. She wore a mint green suit that cost more than a month of Camryn's salary. "Oh, Heather. So wonderful to see you again."

Heather introduced the rest of the family, who blessedly said nothing. Camryn hoped their shock lasted the whole week.

Bernice Horton squatted in front of Cam's niece. "You must be Emily. I had the staff buy you a bunch of movies for while you're here, in case it rains."

Emily beamed. "With cockporn? Auntie Cam makes the best cockporn!"

Anna giggled nervously and picked up Emily to set her on her hip. "She means popcorn. Popcorn. Camryn makes her popcorn and-um."

The horrified look left Bernice's face as she patted her chest. "Of course. With popcorn, dear." She turned to Justin. "Your dad is in the study. Why don't you drag him out and give the family a tour of the house?"

A couple of staff came to collect their luggage as everyone walked inside.

Camryn and Troy stayed back, letting the others go ahead first. He leaned over to whisper in her ear. "At least I'm sharing a room with the woman who makes the best cockporn. Honestly, the things you don't tell me."

She tried not to smile. "Shut up, Troy."

Justin's father seemed as nice as his mother. Once he saw them come inside, he rose from a desk and shook everyone's hand. As tall, if not taller than Justin, he had a wiry frame and a pear-shaped face hidden behind large black frames.

The house was amazing. Mahogany floors, ten-foot windows, open architecture. Complete with a library and media room, which Emily drooled over, it was something out of a Hollywood set. The entire east side had a beautiful view of the Flatirons and foothills at the base of the mountains. The north side had an in-ground Olympic-sized pool with a colorful perennial garden to accent.

The place had six bedrooms. Yjaka Harold, Kuma Viola, Uncle Mitch and Tetaka Myrtle were sharing one on the second floor. Mom, Dad, and Baba were across the hall. Fisher, Anna and Emily were on the third floor, along with Justin and Heather, plus Troy and herself. Each bedroom had its own bath. Left to their own devices until lunch, they opted to unpack and settle in.

Troy flopped on the king-sized bed in their room. "I thought the family was very well behaved."

"Yes, aside from Baba complaining about getting lost."

The room was nicer than some of the four-star hotels she'd stayed in. The wallpaper was light blue with darker navy stripes. A border print of bluebells matched the bedspread covering the four-poster bed. On the same wall as the bathroom, a bureau held a forty-inch flat screen and DVD player. A set of glass French doors led to a balcony over-looking the mountain view.

She opened the closet to hang her clothes before they wrinkled. "I would kill for this closet at home."

"A woman and her wardrobe. No closet is big enough."

"My apartment is the size of this closet." She turned and stared at him, a thought looming. "We're going to have to share the bed."

Troy looked around. "It's big enough. No big deal. I hear you don't snore, so we should be fine." His smile was at full amp.

There may be a certain comfort level with Troy, but she thought she drew the line at sharing a bed, king-sized or not. Unless one of them took the floor, they were stuck. She couldn't ask him to do that, and she'd never walk upright if she slept on these hardwood floors. And what was with everyone's obsession on snoring?

"Relax, Cam. I won't touch you."

No doubt there. She couldn't handle him even if he did lose his mind and try. Last night at his house, she'd nearly come undone at his touch. Troy hadn't even meant anything by it. He'd just been trying to help. But it still had her skin heated.

She needed her mind off that. "What are you going to do while we have our final dress fitting this afternoon?"

"I plan on beating the crap out of Justin and Fisher at Grand Theft Auto. Should be fun in that media room."

Video games. Men.

He got up and walked to the French doors. "They're setting up lunch outside. Ready to head down?"

"Aren't you going to hang up your clothes?"

One eyebrow popped up in confusion. "Why?"

She sighed. It was a darn good thing they weren't really a couple.

They made their way downstairs and out a set of patio doors to where they thought the family was sitting, only to find themselves the length of the house away.

"Wow, this house is big." She started to walk toward the tables when Troy grabbed her arm to stop her. She looked at him, confused. His blond hair was several shades lighter in the hot, dry sun, his brown eyes showing little golden flecks she'd never noticed before. "What's wrong?" she asked, worried the heat or altitude was getting to him. When they'd first exited the car, she'd noticed how much thinner the air was here. Perhaps he hadn't adjusted yet.

"I have an idea, and you won't like it."

"Then my answer is no."

"You haven't heard the idea yet."

"I don't need to. If you think it's a bad one--"

"I didn't say it was a bad idea. I said you wouldn't like it."

She crossed her arms. "Same difference."

He looked unamused. "Everyone is sitting across the yard over there. We can see them, which means they can see us. We need a public display of affection."

She didn't like the sound of that. But before she could process fully, he slid an arm around her waist and drew her to him. Hard chest. Wall of hard chest. Now there was no air.

"Act like we've done this before," he whispered.

"Done what?"

"Kiss, Cam. Act like you've kissed me before."

"How am I supposed to do--"

The words died in her throat as his mouth closed over hers. At first, she froze, disoriented, but then their noses brushed, he tilted his head, and her eyes drifted shut. She grabbed his arms for balance. Muscled, firm arms that tensed beneath her fingers. She remembered the look of them from last night, but they felt so much better.

Troy had mad, mad skills. She knew he would. God in Heaven, did he ever. Camryn didn't think she had the ability to respond this strongly, though. A sharp, satisfying tremor rocked her center. His lips parted and he slid his tongue against hers. Once. Twice. As the kiss deepened, his hands came up to cup her cheeks and she leaned into him. She lost feeling from the neck down.

Troy Lansky was kissing her. With witnesses. Because he was pretending to be her-

He broke away, hands still cupping her cheeks, and stared down at her. "What in the hell was that?" he whispered, his voice harsh, his eyes wide.

She thought it had been a kiss. A darn good one. She may not have his experience or his expertise, but she wasn't so daft she didn't know when she'd just been kissed. Properly.

His jaw ground as his mouth firmed into a thin line. He dropped his hands and stepped back.

She'd never been a believer in spontaneous combustion but, by God, she'd implode right now from embarrassment if he made fun of her. She wasn't beautiful like his other women. In fact, she was the South Pole of sexy. Her heart lurched, threatened to stop beating.

"You are not a fish," he ground out.

Maxwell's ultimate insult from Troy's lips sobered her. Except, had he said-?

Turning, he went to walk away, but he must've remembered they'd come out together because he came back, grabbed her hand, and pulled her toward the awaiting tables.