He’s playing us, I tried to tell my lady bits, but they were not listening. I needed to get all of us off this track. “You asked how I spend my free time. Um, I read. I watch TV. I volunteer on weekends when I’m not working. Boring stuff like that.”
Camden nodded slightly, as if agreeing to the change in subject. “Where do you volunteer?” he asked.
“There’s this shelter downtown that’s associated with the humane society.”
“Do you mean the Herbert and Wanda Leibowitz Center?”
That made me raise my eyebrows. “You know it?”
“Yes. That’s one of my charities. We give them a large donation every year. Why haven’t I ever seen you around?”
“Um, probably because I go to the local shelter and you hobnob with bigwigs at galas.”
He seemed a bit confused, and it suddenly occurred to me that I probably wasn’t supposed to know that he had money. I could easily explain it away by the quality of his clothes or his expensive watch, but to my surprise he didn’t ask a follow-up question.
“I adopted my cat, Belle, from there. She’s part Maine coon. A silver tabby.”
Wow, that “I was just headbutted” feeling was back. Why was it incredibly hot that he owned a cat? So many guys hated cats and considered them to be “woman pets” that it immediately told me three things about Camden that I hadn’t known so far—that he was secure in himself and his masculinity; that he might be a little unconventional; and given the affection in his voice as he talked about his kitty, that he had a big and loving heart.
All three of those things were incredibly attractive.
Camden, not knowing my brain had gone for a walk down He’s Hot Lane, was still talking. “She’s so smart. Too smart for her own good, I think. She knows exactly how to manipulate me into getting treats. I’d show you a picture but . . .”
“But your portable telegraph machine doesn’t take very good photos?” I guessed.
Ignoring my slam on his outdated technology he asked, “What about you? Do you have pets?”
“I travel a lot for work, so it hasn’t really been practical. I have thought I’d like to get a cat. They seem more independent than dogs.”
“And more rewarding, in my experience.”
“What do you mean?”
He finished off the last of his drink before he answered. “There’s something triumphant about a little sociopath deigning to cuddle with you. It’s like winning a prize. Dogs love everybody. Too easy—”
“That’s not true,” I interrupted. “My mom’s three rescue dogs hate me. She got them because I won’t give her grandchildren. She treats them like they’re her babies. They’ve gone on more vacations than I did growing up and I’m pretty sure they have nicer bedrooms and better food.” Realizing that I might be revealing a bit too much about my issues with my mom, I shook my head. “But enough about that. I’m more of a cat person, too.”
It seemed like I was talking a lot. Was I talking a lot?
“I feel like I should grab a notebook so that I could make a list of all the things it turns out we have in common.”
“A list?” I echoed, my heart racing.
“I like making lists. It gives me the illusion of being in control.”
That was seriously the sexiest thing a man had ever said to me. I could only sit there with my mouth hanging open.
He briefly brushed his fingers against the side of my hair. “My guess is you’re that way, too. Everything about you seems a tad controlled. Even your hair.”
Without thinking, I reached up to touch the same spot on the side of my head that he had. This wasn’t about control, was it? It was about convenience. It took far less time to twist my hair and put it up than it would to leave it down and have to curl or straighten it.
And I liked being in control. Who didn’t? “I can be flexible. Totally flexible. Just as long as everything is going exactly the way I want it to.”
At that he laughed and the sound of it made me feel like my veins were full of fizzy champagne bubbles. “What’s not going your way now?”
“So many things. The bride’s mother is a total—” I caught myself and continued, “Has a strong affinity for liquor, and her ex-husband and his inappropriately aged fiancée make her nuts and in the past they’ve gotten into public fights and as Sadie’s maid of honor it is my job to make sure that there’s no Real Housewives moments.”