Chapter 16

“Camille…are you there?”

She looked from left to right and realized she was at work. Where had the day gone? She was still caught in the whirlwind called Marc. Sighing, she reached across her desk and grabbed the phone’s receiver. She could hear the concern in Lee’s voice.

“Yes, I’m here.

“I thought you slipped past me or something. I’ve buzzed you several times.”

Damn him. He had her scrambling to focus.

Camille still tingled from their heated exchange this morning. Closing her eyes only made matters worse because her mind would invoke the images of him gliding his large hands across her body, touching her in spots that were dormant.

Snap out of it, girl. Yet, chastising herself did little good. Her mind-blowing high suddenly crashed before her eyes when she recalled his words of regret.

“I’m sorry…” he said as a sweet endearment hung on the end like a sore thumb. How could he call her baby, yet regret the intimate moment they shared?

The man was an enigma and now she was stuck with him. Derek trusted him, and her respect for his judgment and leadership would have to carry the two of them to Dallas and back. She thought, just maybe, they could be something more, but what could they possibly share with regrets hanging between them?

“My apologies, I’ve been working on these reports, and I lost track of time. What did you need?”

Camille listened as Lee covered the list of calls she’d missed while daydreaming. She grabbed a pen and began writing notes. She would return the phone calls before leaving. She was anxious to get to Dallas. On the drive into work, she began questioning Ashanta’s reasons for including the locket.

It did not appear to be an heirloom. It was beautiful, yet nothing fancy, which made its presence with the other incriminating documents more intriguing.

Finishing off the last note, Camille advised Lee to reschedule her appointments for the next few days. Camille glanced at the clock and noticed the time.

“Lee, it’s after noon, did you take your lunch yet?”

Camille dropped the pen and leaned back in her chair. She liked her assistant. Lee was thorough and she missed very little. Camille once held on to several files from key overseas distributors, reviewing the list of transactions. She had stacked them with her existing files for Lee to file away. Lee thumbed through the files and looking over her glasses, she asked, “Should I return these to Ashanta?”

Camille stopped and took in the woman’s cool green eyes and wondered how much she knew about IJDC and the inner workings. She made a mental note to ask her one day soon. That day was still coming, but she learned a valuable lesson; don’t sleep on Lee.

They talked for a few minutes longer, closing with Lee taking Camille’s lunch order. Camille would work through lunch and call Marc about leaving at three o’clock, which would place them in Dallas by nightfall.

Camille grabbed her cell phone and searched for his number. Her heart was racing a mile a minute as she dialed. She swiveled in her chair, watching the sea of lunch-goers moving about downtown Houston.

“Hello, beautiful.”

She paused. His voice was low in his sexy timber range. It was noon, yet he had his bedroom voice working overtime on her senses.

“Hey Marc, it’s me, Camille.”

“Yes, I know it’s you. What’s up?” She noticed the change in his voice. He sounded more alert.

“Everything is fine. I’m calling to see what your plans are for the day,” her voice dropped to nearly a whisper, “since we didn’t talk much this morning.”

 “I guess we didn’t.”

She could hear him moving around and wondered where he was. She knew he had family in town, but was he staying with them? Or someone else?

For the first time since meeting him, Camille began to wonder if he was seeing anyone. Here she was all hot and bothered and she didn’t know whether he was committed or not.

Camille groaned, lightly tapping her head against her desk. Here she was a big, bad super agent and now she was playing Miss Loosey Goosey for some man.

“You sure everything is all right?” She could hear the humor in his voice. Since when had she become the source of amusement to him?

“Yeah, so what are your plans?” She snapped, annoyed with herself. She had never let a man run her through the ringer and she wouldn’t start now. She had bigger fish to fry, namely this case. She would not let the tempting Marc distract her.

“I have a few errands and some calls to make. That’s about it. After that, I’m all yours.”

Avoiding Mr. Hershey and his magnetic pull would be her greatest challenge yet. Hoping to help her wavering nerves, she decided to set him straight now.

“Do you have any objections to leaving early?” She explained her plans and he agreed to pick her up. She ended with a reluctant, “And one more thing…we can’t have a repeat of what occurred this morning.”

“Really,” Marc's voice was laced with disbelief. He had been honest about his intentions and the chemistry between them. She, on the other hand, needed to slow things down. Her plate was full and he would only complicate an already complicated situation.

Camille wanted him to say something, anything to fill the silence. She reached for the spiral phone cord and played with it, twirling it around her finger. Saying it now was best, but something deep inside her wanted to feel his body next to her again. However, her first priority was fulfilling her job requirements for this case; nothing more, nothing less.

“Yes.” She wiped the palm of her hands along her skirt and waited. Why did he have to come now? She could not recall the last time she was even remotely attracted to someone and if she could, it would make a normal woman insane. She wanted a relationship, someone to share her days and nights, but the reality of her life made that impossible. She had to keep too many secrets and a relationship built on lies was doomed to fail.

“Baby, how about we deal with the Dallas trip, and we’ll decide together, what will or will not happen. Don’t worry so much. I will see you in a few hours. Bye.”

What just happened? She tossed her cell phone into her purse. The more time she spent with him, the more she wanted to know about him. She pulled out the lower right hand drawer, grabbed her purse, and tossed her cell phone inside.

Working today seemed nearly impossible. She had calls to make and projects to complete, but her thoughts were filled with the man that made her stomach turn flip-flops. Camille positioned herself in front of her computer and began typing the name of a jeweler into the search engine. She tapped her pencil as she waited for the results.

The only thing between her and Marc was this case. If she solved the case, she could consider having a normal adult relationship. She browsed through the results and made note of the locations in Dallas. She needed to locate the storefront and possibly make an appointment with the owner or someone that can explain the details about the locket.

Camille looked up from her computer and scanned her office. She felt like she was being watched. She turned her chair towards the open glass. The building across the street had the blinds pulled closed. Through her open office door, she called to Lee, but there was no response.

Camille decided to turn on some music to eliminate the eerie feeling moving through her. Recognizing the first track, she began to hum the tune. She turned up the volume another notch as she swayed in her chair to the beat of the music. She looked about once again…still nothing.

She grabbed her cup of coffee and sipped it as she reviewed the Joyas Custom Jewelry website. It appeared to be a small jeweler specializing in custom handcrafted pieces, which would explained the locket’s intricate details.

At first glance, it appeared to be an heirloom or aged jewelry. The craftsmanship was impeccable. The main website only offered contact information and general business details. She located the number and decided to give them a call.

* * *

Talib stood outside Camille’s office. He glanced down the hall, watching for Lee. Camille was talking on the phone. He moved out of viewing range once the call ended. She mumbled to herself, but it was too low for him to hear. She straightened her shoulders while fiddling around on her computer. He could not take his eyes off her. She extended her arm and pressed play on the iPod docking station causing music to fill the air. He suppressed a gasp as he listened to her sing, although he did not recognize the song. She began snapping her fingers and swaying to the music, dropping her head as she worked.

Talib’s smile was only evident in the sparkle of his eyes. His mind flashed back to his last good childhood memory…his mother. She too would sing while she worked. He closed his eyes tight trying to erase the memory, but he could hear Camille’s voice seeping in past his barriers, beyond his pain, and settling in a place that only a few people knew existed.

He looked over his shoulder noting he was still alone. He knew he had to keep his growing infatuation with Camille in check, but he wasn’t quite ready to let go of her hold on him. He thought back to the impression of her name on Ashanta's desk. It was possible she knew about his money. He needed to locate the letter he believed existed. He knew she wouldn't tell him, but she would be out-of-town for the rest of the week. He must use his time wisely. With that resolved, he lightly knocked on the door.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, walking into Camille’s office. She leaned over and turned off the music. He watched her transform into the VP of International Accounts. Talib already missed the carefree moment he witnessed.

“No apologies needed, how are things going?” She motioned toward the empty chair in front of her desk. He nodded at her request and sat in the offered chair.

“I’m not sure,” he nervously laughed. “I seem to be of very little use around here. I am not familiar with your computer systems and we have not had the opportunity to discuss the current contracts under review.”

He leaned back in the chair and crossed his legs casually. He watched her every move. She was a graceful beauty. He could sense by her posture that he had her undivided attention.

“I guess I should be the one apologizing, I should have come to talk with you.” She glanced at her watch, “Do you have some time now?”

He nodded. He wanted to learn all that he could about Camille Carmichael.

* * *

Camille and Talib worked through several files. She briefed him and they were scheduled to meet again when she returned on Monday. The two were seated at the small table in her office, talking over coffee.

“You remind me of my mother,” he said before drinking from his cup.

“Really,” she shifted towards him, leaning in on the table, “How so?”

She could not tell whether his statement was a positive or negative one. His face lacked emotion and his piercing stares unnerved her, yet she wanted to make him feel comfortable with her. Her plan was to uncover what he was really doing in Houston and if he had anything to do with Ashanta’s death.

“Actually, I’m not totally sure. You don’t resemble her, but I heard you singing as I approached your office, and she loved to sing while she worked.”

“Loved, as in past tense.”

“Yes, I lost my mother years ago.”

She watched the traces of pain dance across his face and then it contorted to stone. She almost didn’t recognize him.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” She patted his hand, not wanting him to retreat. Camille had a feeling there was more to the story. “How old were you?”

He tensed and she decided to share some of her past to keep the conversation flowing. “I lost my mother when I was in junior high. I was one of the hardest times of my life.” When she saw the small veil lingering in the depths of his eyes lift, she continued. “It made me feel so isolated and alone.”

He nodded and reached out, grabbing her hand. “What happened?”

Camille went on to share her mother’s battle with cancer. She started the story wanting to encourage him to share more, but it ended with her feeling a growing bond with him.

She did not realize but during her story she’d slipped into a daze, recounting the slow process of watching her mother die. She was left with her father and brother at a critical time as a teenage girl. She felt Talib slip a tissue into her hand. She used it to dry her eyes. “I am sorry, this is very unprofessional of me, pouring my heart and soul out,” she nervously laughed, embarrassed.

“Don’t apologize, dear.” He squeezed her hand in assurance and began to tell of his family. “How much do you know about the troubles plaguing many South African countries?” He didn’t wait for her response. She watched as he stared at their hands, his midnight black against her light brown complexion.

“When I was eight years old, our small village was raided by a rebel group. At the time the men were away working, leaving only the women, children, and elderly in the village. I was not old enough to journey with my father and the other men, so my father left me in charge of my mother and two little sisters.” He pulled his hand from her hands. Camille noticed an immediate change in him. He looked withdrawn and distant.

“They came just after the sun set while the children were running around enjoying the night fires. We were resting as my mother worked by the fire. My sisters were playing, skipping, and running when we heard a piercing scream.”

He paused for so long that Camille thought he would not continue. His eyes were focused on the glass lining the wall behind her, the muscle at his temple quivered.

“What happened, Talib?” she asked her voice just above a whisper.

His eyes met her concerned gaze. “My mother asked me to protect my sisters as she went out of the hut to investigate the commotion. I tried to stop her. We both knew what was occurring. Our best defense should have been to hide and wait, hoping they’d find what they were looking for before they located our tent, but my mother thought otherwise.

“She grabbed her spear and left my sisters in my care,” he said, in a strained voice, “…and I failed.”

Silence consumed the room. Camille heard him, but she was at a loss for words. He failed, what did that mean?

“Camille,” Lee called from the intercom. “You have a call holding on line two.”

Camille gave his hand a reassuring squeeze before walking to her desk. She grabbed the receiver and lifted her finger signaling for Talib to give her a moment. He stood and walked towards the window with his back to her. It appeared as if his shoulders fell forward in resignation. He did not look like the same man that walked into her office. There was more to his story, and she prayed he would share the rest of it with her.

“This is Camille.”

“Hey, Camille, I’m a few blocks away. Are you ready?” Marc asked. She could hear the wind blowing as if he were riding with the windows down. His upbeat vibe clashed with the somber mood in her office.

She and Talib had been talking more than an hour. He stood massaging his temples and then rested his balled fists on his hips. He was a beautiful man. She was sure he had many admirers. He had an edge that told her not to allow his outer appearance to distract her, however they connected on a level that she couldn’t quite explain.

“Hmm, yeah, I think so.” Camille looked at the time on the monitor of her computer. Talib shifted and she wondered if taking this trip to Dallas was a bad idea.

“Is everything all right over there? You sound distracted.”

“I’m fine. I’m finishing up a meeting. I’ll be ready.”

Talib turned facing her, walked to the small conference table, and sat on the edge, casually crossing his arms across his chest. She could feel his eyes moving across her body. They locked eyes and she could feel the blood rushing to her face.

Camille dropped her eyes. She mumbled an inaudible goodbye and hung up the phone. She took several breathes before addressing Talib.

“I’m sorry. I’m leaving early today and my car is expected any moment.” He nodded. “I would like to continue your story. How about lunch Monday?” She needed to talk with him alone. By Monday, she should understand the significance of the contents in Ashanta’s package and maybe some of his story would make sense.

“Monday, sure, it’s a date.” Talib smiled and Camille watched him change form before her eyes once again. He seemed to be a man of many faces and she would find it appealing if she didn’t feel an uneasiness fluttering in her stomach.

She nodded her agreement as he walked out of her office. Camille stood behind her desk, watching his back when Talib stopped before crossing the threshold. He turned and gazed into her eyes. “Have a safe trip.” With a wink, he was gone.