Beneath Beautiful Read Online Free Page B

or not.”
    Cassie took the card gingerly between her fingers, feeling the thick, creamy stock. The best quality. From what she'd read about this man, this didn't surprise her one bit. “I'm going to my sister's this evening. In London. I'll be back Sunday. Thank you . . . for the coffee.” She made to leave, but at the last moment, Cameron's hand reached out and grasped hers, making her breath catch in her chest.
    He didn't attempt to draw her toward him, but his gaze was intense enough to bridge the gap between them. “Don't forget, it works both ways. Maybe I can inspire you as well.” He sat forward in his seat, his whole being intent upon her. “It's not all take. I can give you something back. Perhaps something you need. Think about that, Cassie. Think about it and call me on Sunday.”

 
     
    L ater that day, Cassie inspected herself in the bathroom mirror, once again wondering what it had been that Cameron had seen—what had intrigued him. She could still feel his touch on her hand, and now she brought that hand up to her face to inspect it also. There was nothing to see, of course. Ordinary. An ordinary hand attached to an ordinary body. Or so she had thought. Until now.
    Taking one step back, and another, until she was in the doorway, she dropped her towel and stared at her naked form. Tall and long limbed, like all the women in her family. Blue eyes. Pale skin, with a spattering of light freckles across her nose and shoulders due to summers spent in Spain as a child. She reached up and unleashed her hair from its band. Shoulder-length and light brown, it tumbled down in waves, its touch of red catching in the light.
    She stared for some time, searching, searching. What did he see? What had he seen? It couldn't have been anything sexual. It couldn't have been her breasts, or her thighs—she'd had a thick coat on. And a scarf. If she remembered correctly, she hadn't even brushed her hair, and despite a slick of strawberry lip-gloss to stave off chapped lips, she'd been free of makeup. Still, he'd seen something, this artist. This man who could have . . . well, almost anyone her age, she expected.
    Still focused upon the mirror, she brought up her hands to her neck and then ran them slowly down her body. Down her breasts, the slight curve of her waist, her hips. She paused at the tops of her thighs and then, eyes never leaving the mirror, inched her right hand sideways, then sideways again, closer and closer—daring herself to do what she was thinking of doing. Slowly, she slipped one finger inside herself, wanting to see what it might be like. To be one of those people like Cameron. The sort of person who just did what they wanted, when they wanted—who slept with other people without expectation because it might be nice, and then thought nothing of it afterwards. Standing there, looking fixedly at herself, Cassie tried very hard to let go and allow herself to imagine what might have happened in the cemetery. She attempted a scene where Cameron Callahan had found a secluded spot, and his hands had made their way inside her coat and under her shirt. She hadn't been wearing a bra. It would have been so easy—there would have been no one around to see his warm hands exploring her breasts, and after a while she wouldn't have cared if anyone had seen anyway. She become wet with the thought of it—of giving herself over to him, despite the time and place. After some time, he might have moved one hand down toward the waist of her jeans and . . .
    Quite by accident, Cassie caught sight of a scent bottle of her grandmother's on the marble vanity.
    “Ugh,” she said and immediately sorted herself out—washed her hands, pulled her towel around her. Who was she kidding? She was nothing like those people. Nothing like Cameron Callahan.
    Not to mention the fact that she had a train to catch.
     
     
    “H ello, gorgeous thing!” Jeremy answered the door as Cassie's cab took off noisily behind her. “You look like