Return To Passion. Carla BuchananЧитать онлайн книгу.
where she wanted the story to go. Why was she so off tonight? Something was niggling at her and she couldn’t seem to focus on anything, especially not writing. She was having one of those feelings you get when you know something is wrong, you just don’t know what that something is.
Camille had often had feelings that she knew were something more, maybe a keener women’s intuition, but ignored them. Her father said that it was her intuition telling her something; she just had to figure out what it was. According to her father, her mother had been the same way. Camille wondered if it was the truth since she’d never had a chance to meet Elaine Ryan. Her mother had died during childbirth and it had been her and her father ever since. Well, it used to be, until Camille had moved to New York when she was eighteen years old. She and her dad weren’t as close as they used to be. It was only natural, she figured. After all, she couldn’t take care of him forever, though she probably would’ve stayed closer to home if she had not gotten the internship in New York or hadn’t been trying to do the right thing by the people she loved the most... Well, she wouldn’t think about that situation right now. It was buried long ago so there was no need to bring old feelings of guilt bubbling to the surface.
An hour after trying and failing to type something on the page, Camille quit working. It was no use. She couldn’t write erotic romance while wayward thoughts invaded her mind. She decided to call her father to check on him and make sure everything was okay. She’d talked to him the day before and knew he had a doctor’s appointment today. The only conclusion Camille kept coming to was that he’d gotten bad news. She was so in tune with the man that she could sense the bad news deep down in her gut. That had to be what was bothering her. Her father had told her that it was just a routine checkup, but that didn’t mean anything. On a few of those occasions she’d had to find out from other family that her father had gone to the hospital. It had hurt Camille that she had not been there for her father. It had hurt her even more that he hadn’t told her, making her feel like she wasn’t a good daughter. But she knew it was her father and his irrational logic. He had this crazy idea that not telling her things protected her. In fact, it only worried her.
The worrying intensified and her chest tightened when she tried calling him now. The phone just rang and rang. On the fourth call, the line connected to his voice mail immediately. Camille wasn’t sure what was going on, but she knew something was wrong so she dialed her cousin. The news she got had her up and off her bed in a flash, throwing clothing haphazardly into suitcases and trying to make reservations at the same time.
* * *
Tired was a mild word to describe the way her body felt when Camille walked through Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport in search of the baggage-claim area. She was cursing under her breath because each and every time she flew back here, the airport got more and more confusing.
It had been some years since she’d been to her hometown and even then it had been a quick visit where she had to sign some papers and then leave for an engagement or meeting she couldn’t miss. And all the other visits before had been similar. Camille did not like running into people when she went home. Nor did she like hiding from everyone. They had an idea in their heads about who she was and she never wanted them to find out she wasn’t the innocent little girl she’d been when she was simply “daddy’s girl” in her hometown of Fairdell, Georgia, and she wasn’t the evil girl who’d left so abruptly for her own selfish reasons.
Her reasons for leaving Fairdell hadn’t been selfish; rather they’d been selfless. Her reasons were one thing, but her secret was the kind that people in her tiny Bible-belt town wouldn’t appreciate. So Camille had chosen to stay away. She didn’t need their judgment. Plus, she didn’t need to run into the one person who could possibly break her down and make her stay around. He’d see right through her. He’d make her want to tell him the truth—admit why she couldn’t stay in Fairdell with him when they’d made plans—and he wouldn’t approve of her reasons, especially since she’d left without talking to him first.
No, she couldn’t see Remington Krane.
* * *
Remington rose from the ergonomic swivel chair and rubbed his hand down the stubble on his caramel-colored face. He knew he wouldn’t shave, though. He kept this slight bit of facial hair because of her. She’d always said he looked good with the bit he had as a teen and even though they weren’t together any longer and it had been years since he’d seen her, he still liked knowing that she’d appreciate the beard if she saw it.
She’d never come back to see it, though.
And why did he care what she thought? He shouldn’t. He didn’t. The girl—who was undoubtedly a woman now—was not what should be on his mind right now. She’d been out of his life for ten years. She’d chosen to leave him even when they’d made plans and had talked about the dreams they’d share and the future they’d have. He’d waited two years for her to graduate from high school so they could make their plans a reality, only to have her abandon him.
He’d been in love. They’d both been in love as two teenagers could be.
He’d been in college and had already started working for his grandfather as he waited for her. The plans were set. She would teach at the local high school. He’d work for his grandfather’s company and one day he’d take over. Eventually he’d take his career even further by getting elected to political office: his influence, conservative nature and religious beliefs would be sure to help him along. They’d be the ideal couple everyone admired. That was the plan, but she’d changed it on her own and never bothered to let him know. That was what confused him most of all. It was so abrupt and unlike Cam—
Stop doing this to yourself, Remi.
Remington knew she was in his head because of the news he’d heard earlier about her father. Reese Ryan was too humble and hardworking for his own good. He never said no to anyone and took care of others before he took care of himself. He’d always been that way.
Remi once thought the landscaper was indestructible, the type who could work from sunup to sundown in ninety-degree weather. However, having an eighty-percent blockage in the heart valves would slow any man down and Remi only hoped the man would heed the doctor’s advice and take care of himself.
But he doubted Mr. Ryan would be able to do so on his own for a while, which meant Camille would soon be in town. She’d come home a few times over the years but she’d never taken the time to visit anyone. She had not even visited her best friend often, not that he minded too much since her best friend was a guy.
Camille Ryan may have been twenty-eight and all grown-up now, but he’d always known her to be daddy’s little girl. She loved her father endlessly and she wouldn’t just breeze through town for something so serious. She’d stay around for a while, and Remington planned to use that time to his advantage. He’d get answers as to why she’d left. He needed to know why she’d chosen New York over him when she’d never mentioned a desire to live there. If she’d just told him, he would’ve supported her and they could’ve figured something out. They could have—
He stopped his racing thoughts. First things first. He had to get some work done if was going to acquire this plot of land Krane Gourmet Snack Foods needed to expand and build their frozen foods division, or he’d have to deal with his ever-unsatisfied grandfather.
It was ironic to think of Camille and then think of his grandfather. Camille had tried her best to be nice to the man, but Frederick Krane was stubborn and set in his ways. Frederick had a vision of Remington’s future and it didn’t include Camille Ryan.
From the moment Remington had started dating, his grandfather had encouraged him to be more than just friends with the daughter of a local judge whose family had been a part of his life since Remington could remember.
The daughter, Sonya Brandt, had never been Remi’s type from the beginning. She was spoiled and selfish and entitled. There wasn’t anything down-to-earth about her. She had annoyed Remington with the way she’d acted as if they were a couple just because of their families’ expectations. But to please his grandfather, he’d let it go on for the most part, not really encouraging