Page 83 of Hot Commodity (Banks/Kincaid Family 1)

"You love me?" she repeated, stark shock outlining her face.

He grinned. "Well, yeah."

"No one's ever loved me before," she said, looking a little panicked by the thought as if a whole new world of overbearing responsibility had been plopped onto her shoulders.

"Don't worry," he assured her. "I'll take it easy on you for the first couple of months." Then he winked. "But after that, I'll probably start laying it on a little thicker and, you know, getting really down and mushy with all the poetry and roses and serenading."

Olivia gurgled out a laugh at his corny attempt to make a joke. "Oh, Cameron," she said falling suddenly serious. "I love you too."

Bending, she wrapped her arms around his chest and laid her head on over his heart. Contentment roared through him. Cameron sifted his fingers through her long mass of bed-tangled hair. Closing his eyes, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

"I never wanted to leave," she confessed, her voice muffled against his thin hospital gown.

"Then why did you?"

She lifted her face and sent him a slightly annoyed look. "You started the annulment papers."

He frowned. "Only because you told me to."

"Yeah, and I only told you to, to get you to confess you loved me."

"Well, I do love you."

"Then I'll come back," she returned in a snippety tone. "If you make it successfully through rehab," she added on an afterthought. "And under one condition."

His stomach tightened into knots. "What's that?"

"You have to drop the annulment papers."

The grin that spread through him was instantaneous. He glanced toward the curtain where he could see his family's silhouette lingering on the other side. "Bos?"

Boston's face appeared around the side. He smiled approvingly even as he pulled his cell phone from his pocket. "I'm already on it."

Epilogue

One Year Later

Cameron tried not to fidget as he waited in the air-conditioned room. When he noticed his knee jiggling, he immediately stopped the action by slapping his hand over it. He didn't want to be nervous over one silly conference.

During his first month of rehabilitation, he'd stayed at the center exclusively and been stuffed with a 'relaxing' atmosphere: pretty little walks along a sunset beach or meditation gardens, total-body massages, spas. He'd never been so relieved to get out there. But that had only been the beginning of his torture. After checking out of the clinic, there'd been counseling and support groups.

He'd been coming here every week for a year now. But if he failed the test today, he'd have to keep coming back. And there surely had to be some kind of test behind this whole 'meeting'. Last week, his doctor had said, "If things go well next time, it should be your last appointment with me."

Freaked out by wondering what 'things' were supposed to happen today, he was about to surge to his feet to pace when the door opened. Cam lurched to his feet anyway.

His doctor had an oriental face with a trace of the Bronx in his accent. "How's it going, Banks?"

Awful. Crappy. Miserable. He so wanted out of this joint.

"Fine," Cam answered on a tense smile. "Just fine."

"Well, congrats, bud." Dr. Chin strode around his desk as he studied an opened file. Once he seated himself, he set it down and lifted his face. "This is our last scheduled session together. You feel ready to break free or what?"

Cam almost snorted. Was he ready? The perfunctory nod he gave totally under-stressed his answer in so many ways.

Away from this room, he felt completely better, completely healed. Life was perfect in every way, and it felt unnatural to even need a therapist. Only when he returned for his weekly session was he reminded there'd ever been a problem.

Finally seating himself again, he murmured, "No offence, but it wouldn't break my heart if I never laid eyes on you again, Doc."

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