Page 115 of Bang

Shit.I was doing it again. Lately, it had been hard to focus, and even harder to pull my head out of the clouds. I replied, "Yeah. I'm here."

"So, naturally," Cami continued, "Livia assumed that you were my boyfriend, and she happened to call you that when Willow was listening."

I stiffened. "So Willow thinks I'm your boyfriend."

"Right. Sort of."

"And you didn't set her straight?"

"Of course I set her straight."

I'd heard such stories before – not from Cami, but from plenty of others – former nannies, women I'd dated, or hell, even women Ihadn'tdated. Too many had decided that Willow was their ticket to my heart – as if I had one.

Just the thought of them pissed me off.Willow wasn't a pawn. She was my sister.And my responsibility.

In a tight voice, I said, "How?"

Cami hesitated. "Sorry, what?"

"Howdid you set her straight?"

"You mean Willow? I told her that you and I are just friends."

I frowned.Just friends.It was a phrase I'd used plenty of times myself. But for some messed up reason, I didn't like Cami saying it – not about me.

I told her, "I'm not your friend."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm your employer," I said. "And I'm sure as hell not your boyfriend."

I felt like a dick for saying it, but that didn't mean it wasn't true. Cami and I weren't a couple.

And we needed to keep it that way – because if we didn't, I knew exactly how things between us would end, with Cami bolting for the exit and Willow wondering what she'd done wrong.

Girls like Cami – they were never happy with a casual thing, at least not for long. And yet, a voice in my head whispered,"But you banged her anyway."

Yeah. I had.

Except, it hadn't felt like banging.

It had felt like something else, something with real meaning, assuming therewassuch a thing.

And now, I was pissed off – not at Cami, but at myself.What the hell was I doing?

On the phone, Cami still hadn't replied, which meant it was my turn to ask, "Are you still there?"

She was quiet for another long moment before saying in a strained voice, "Oh, I’m something."

Yeah. She was.

And that "something" was pissed off. I could hear it in her voice just the same as if she'd called me every name in the book.

When I said nothing in reply, she said, "So let me get this straight. You're saying we're not even friends?"

"Not if I'm signing your check."

Regardless of my other flaws – plenty as they were – I knew one thing for damned sure. Business and pleasure – they were dangerous to mix.