He shot a glance in Camille’s direction.
“Have fun,” she mouthed before weaving through the sea of people in attendance.
Camille watched as Maxwell allowed Isabelle to take him by the hand, leading him to the dance floor. She had mixed emotions as she watched the two of them dancing.
Even in a crowd, Maxwell’s presence was compelling. Camille stood there eyeing the numerous women vying for his attention.
“Isabelle’s really trying to latch on to him,” a woman standing beside her commented in a low voice.
Camille did not respond. She liked Isabelle, although she felt that Isabelle was all wrong for a man like Maxwell Wade. Not that she knew what type of woman was perfect for the millionaire attorney. Besides, he had been linked to a flamboyant supermodel for years, a woman who was rumored to be self-centered, hard to work with, and ill-tempered. She had earned a reputation for gaining attention through public tantrums, including an attack on her assistant, during her on-and-off relationship with Maxwell.
Camille allowed her eyes to linger on Maxwell, appreciating the strong lines of his well-formed cheek and jaw. But it was those beautiful brown eyes of his that arrested her—intelligent eyes that seemed to peer through to her very soul. She surveyed Maxwell with an artist’s sensitivity, taking in his naturally arched brows, the faint lines above his forehead and those sexy lips of his.
“What do you think about Isabelle and Maxwell Wade, Camille?”
She gave a slight shrug. “I think that Isabelle’s a big girl and she can take care of herself,” Camille responded. “Hey, I’m going to get something to drink. Want to join me?”
“My boyfriend just went to get drinks for us,” the woman replied. “Thanks though.”
Camille nodded, and then said, “I’ll talk to you later.” She was grateful for a moment alone. She struggled with figuring out what was drawing her to Maxwell. There was some type of invisible thread drawing them together.
I don’t know this man, she kept telling herself over and over. I’m not sure I even like him, so why should I care who he dates?
Camille shook off her thoughts.
She ordered and paid the bartender for a soda.
Just as she turned to leave, Camille bumped into the chief of staff’s wife. “Mrs. Dudley, I’m sorry. I didn’t know that you were standing behind me.”
“You’re fine, dear.” She placed a hand to her forehead. “I have such a terrible headache and this music isn’t helping. I can barely see straight, so I’m going home.”
She was genuinely concerned. “I’m sorry to hear that, Mrs. Dudley. Would you like for me to call you a taxi or something?”
“Germaine’s already taken care of it, dear.”
Dr. Dudley was in heavy conversation with another doctor, so Camille made sure that the woman made it safely to the waiting taxi.
Just before she reached the doors of the ballroom where the reception was being held, Dr. Dudley stepped into her path. “D-did my w-wife leave?” he asked. The dazed look in his eyes and the slur in his voice indicated that he had had plenty to drink.
“Yes,” Camille responded. “I walked her out to the cab myself.”
He reached over and grabbed her hand. “Thank you for being so kind to my wife.” Dr. Dudley was close enough for Camille to smell the alcohol on his breath—much too close as far as she was concerned.
Camille took a step backward and tried to remove her hand from Dudley’s viselike grip.
He stared at her a moment before saying, “I really love those green eyes of yours. It gives you an exotic look.”
She didn’t like the way he was caressing her with his eyes.
“Dr. Dudley,” Camille began. “Why don’t we go inside?”
“I’m actually en-enjoying myself out here,” he said in response. “There are too many people inside the party. I’ve wanted to just sit down and talk to you for a while, Camille. I like getting to know my employees.”
“I believe we know each other as well as we need to,” she stated firmly. “Dr. Dudley, we don’t want people walking out here and making assumptions. The hospital is under enough scrutiny, don’t you think?”
Camille tried a second time unsuccessfully to pull her hand away, but Dudley only held on tighter. A wave of apprehension washed over her. “Please let my hand go, Doctor.”
He continued to leer at her. “Hey, I’m just trying to get to know you—with your fine self.”
Camille had heard rumors that Dudley had an eye for the ladies, and on more than one occasion she had caught him staring at her, but she never thought he would be so blatant with it. Dr. Dudley was not only married, but a father of three and well-respected in the medical field.
“Why don’t we go get you some coffee?” Camille suggested. “You have been drinking all night and the alcohol’s making you do things I’m sure you will regret.”
He pulled her into his arms and tried to kiss her.
“No!”
Cringing, Camille struggled violently in his arms, and was relieved when he abruptly let her go. She opened her eyes and met Maxwell’s hard gaze.
Mortified, she looked away and straightened her dress.
“Dudley, I think Camille’s right. You’ve had enough to drink,” Maxwell stated coldly.
“I’m …I’m f-fine,” Germaine slurred. “Now …if you would excuse us, I’m try …t-trying to have a conversation with Camille.”
“I’m perfectly aware of what you are trying to do,” he countered. “It’s time for you to go home, so I’m going to call you a taxi.” Maxwell pulled out his cell phone. He gestured to a passing waiter and said, “Could you please bring this man a cup of black coffee?”
He glanced back at Camille. “Are you okay?”
“I just need to get out of here,” she murmured.
Maxwell nodded in understanding. He could tell that she was really shaken by what had just transpired. “I’ll see you to your car once I get Dudley settled.”
Camille sat down in one of the chairs across from where he and Dudley were.
She couldn’t hear what Maxwell was saying to Dudley, but from the expression on his face, the conversation was an intense one.
Maxwell stayed with Dudley until the taxi arrived. Just as she had done with Dudley’s wife, he escorted the chief of staff outside.
“C’mon, I’ll see you to your car,” Maxwell said when he returned.
“I didn’t drive. I came with one of the nurses. I’ll just call a taxi.”
“You don’t have to do that,” he told her. “I’ll drive you home.”
“Maxwell, I appreciate your help with Dr. Dudley, but you don’t have to go out of your way to drive me to my place.”
“I don’t mind,” Maxwell responded. “After the night you’ve had, I want to make sure that you get home safe.”
It wasn’t until Camille was inside her townhome that she allowed her tears to flow. She always enjoyed entering her home, where the pride of ownership was evident. Camille had paid great attention to detail in the remodeled kitchen, which included granite countertops and upgraded appliances. The hardwood floors throughout both stories gleamed to perfection.
However, tonight her