“It’s not supposed to be so obvious; the cosmetics companies claim that they can hide anything.”
“Try those eyedrops that ‘get the red out’ instead,” Jamie suggested, deadpan.
“Breakfast, Miss Troy?” Bryce asked from behind her.
“No, thank you. Just the coffee.”
“She’ll have toast and fruit,” Jamie instructed.
Bryce left the room, and Troy stared across at her very large and very dear friend with a faint smile. “Jamie—”
“You have to eat.”
“And you’re mother-henning me again, friend.”
“Somebody has to.”
Troy sat back in her chair and sighed softly. “Maybe you’re right; I can’t seem to take care of myself these days.”
Jamie looked at her steadily for a moment, then calmly folded his paper and set it aside. “Not entirely the punch,” he said slowly. “Something else is bothering you,
chérie
?”
She didn’t answer until Bryce, after silently placing fruit and toast in front of her, had left the room again. Ignoring the fruit, she picked up a piece of toast and nibbled absently. “Someone,” she replied finally.
“Cameron,” Jamie guessed in the tone of a man who knew it was more than a guess. “I saw him last night.”
Troy summoned a smile. “Before or after you disappeared into Daddy’s den with your cronies for the game?”
“Before. He was talking to the general, and I had to wait to gather the last of my ‘cronies.’”
She nodded, knowing that the general had spent the larger part of the evening—along with several other men—in the den with Jamie, playing poker. “Did the general win as usual?” she asked idly, finishing the toast more to placate Jamie than out of hunger.
“As usual, and stop changing the subject. Is Cameron going to be a problem?”
“Going to be?” Troy smiled in spite of herself.
“He already
is
a problem. But he’s my problem, Jamie.”
“You’re going to see him again?” Jamie asked carefully.
Before Troy could answer, Bryce stepped opportunely into the room. “Mr. Cameron to see you, Miss Troy.”
“Send him in.” Troy shrugged rather helplessly at Jamie’s startled look. With the first real amusement of the morning she wondered what the two men were going to make of each other.
Dallas strode into the room a moment later wearing a blue turtleneck sweater over dark slacks, his black hair a little windblown, and Troy felt her heart skip a beat. Oh,
damn
, how was she going to be able to keep things from getting serious when just the sight of him affected her like this?
“Good morning—” Dallas began cheerfully, breaking off abruptly as he saw Jamie rising from his chair.
“Dallas Cameron,” Troy murmured, “James Riley.” Deliberately she didn’t add any explanatory information. The two men shook hands, eyeing each other, she thought wryly, like stray cats preparing to be either amiable or hostile, depending upon how things went.
Deciding to avoid the issue, she asked Dallas briskly, “Have you had breakfast?”
He nodded slowly, still eyeing Jamie thoughtfully. “Yes, thanks.”
“Fine. Then we’ll be on our way.” She rose from her chair.
Jamie resumed his own chair, donning the inscrutable expression he wore whenever his “
enfant
” was about to get herself into trouble. He addressed himself to Troy in his deep, lazy voice. “Making the rounds today as usual?”
Troy realized what he was asking. “Uh-huh. Mr. Cameron is…tagging along for the day.”
Jamie’s penetrating light blue eyes shifted to Dallas. “Mmm. Well, he looks to be in good shape. Might even be able to keep up with you.”
Biting back a laugh at Dallas’s rather stiff expression. Troy hastily made her way from the room. “See you later, Jamie,” she called over her shoulder.
“Take care,
mon enfant
,” Jamie called back meaningfully.
Troy snared her sheepskin jacket from Bryce’s hands before he could offer to help her into it, and had the front door open before the butler could perform
“Try those eyedrops that ‘get the red out’ instead,” Jamie suggested, deadpan.
“Breakfast, Miss Troy?” Bryce asked from behind her.
“No, thank you. Just the coffee.”
“She’ll have toast and fruit,” Jamie instructed.
Bryce left the room, and Troy stared across at her very large and very dear friend with a faint smile. “Jamie—”
“You have to eat.”
“And you’re mother-henning me again, friend.”
“Somebody has to.”
Troy sat back in her chair and sighed softly. “Maybe you’re right; I can’t seem to take care of myself these days.”
Jamie looked at her steadily for a moment, then calmly folded his paper and set it aside. “Not entirely the punch,” he said slowly. “Something else is bothering you,
chérie
?”
She didn’t answer until Bryce, after silently placing fruit and toast in front of her, had left the room again. Ignoring the fruit, she picked up a piece of toast and nibbled absently. “Someone,” she replied finally.
“Cameron,” Jamie guessed in the tone of a man who knew it was more than a guess. “I saw him last night.”
Troy summoned a smile. “Before or after you disappeared into Daddy’s den with your cronies for the game?”
“Before. He was talking to the general, and I had to wait to gather the last of my ‘cronies.’”
She nodded, knowing that the general had spent the larger part of the evening—along with several other men—in the den with Jamie, playing poker. “Did the general win as usual?” she asked idly, finishing the toast more to placate Jamie than out of hunger.
“As usual, and stop changing the subject. Is Cameron going to be a problem?”
“Going to be?” Troy smiled in spite of herself.
“He already
is
a problem. But he’s my problem, Jamie.”
“You’re going to see him again?” Jamie asked carefully.
Before Troy could answer, Bryce stepped opportunely into the room. “Mr. Cameron to see you, Miss Troy.”
“Send him in.” Troy shrugged rather helplessly at Jamie’s startled look. With the first real amusement of the morning she wondered what the two men were going to make of each other.
Dallas strode into the room a moment later wearing a blue turtleneck sweater over dark slacks, his black hair a little windblown, and Troy felt her heart skip a beat. Oh,
damn
, how was she going to be able to keep things from getting serious when just the sight of him affected her like this?
“Good morning—” Dallas began cheerfully, breaking off abruptly as he saw Jamie rising from his chair.
“Dallas Cameron,” Troy murmured, “James Riley.” Deliberately she didn’t add any explanatory information. The two men shook hands, eyeing each other, she thought wryly, like stray cats preparing to be either amiable or hostile, depending upon how things went.
Deciding to avoid the issue, she asked Dallas briskly, “Have you had breakfast?”
He nodded slowly, still eyeing Jamie thoughtfully. “Yes, thanks.”
“Fine. Then we’ll be on our way.” She rose from her chair.
Jamie resumed his own chair, donning the inscrutable expression he wore whenever his “
enfant
” was about to get herself into trouble. He addressed himself to Troy in his deep, lazy voice. “Making the rounds today as usual?”
Troy realized what he was asking. “Uh-huh. Mr. Cameron is…tagging along for the day.”
Jamie’s penetrating light blue eyes shifted to Dallas. “Mmm. Well, he looks to be in good shape. Might even be able to keep up with you.”
Biting back a laugh at Dallas’s rather stiff expression. Troy hastily made her way from the room. “See you later, Jamie,” she called over her shoulder.
“Take care,
mon enfant
,” Jamie called back meaningfully.
Troy snared her sheepskin jacket from Bryce’s hands before he could offer to help her into it, and had the front door open before the butler could perform
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