All it took was a minivan with a taxi sign stuck on the roof sitting in front of the camp next door to take the shine off Cameron Mayfield’s mood. He slowed his pick-up as he approached the driveway before his, which was the last on the dusty, beat-up dirt road, and cursed himself for forgetting the phone call from Jim Frazier two weeks before.
“My granddaughter, Anna—you remember her, right? She’s going to stay at the camp this summer. She’s had a tough year and she needs a little time to relax and get her head on straight. Keep an eye on her for me, wouldya?”
He didn’t want to keep an eye on Anna Frazier. He didn’t like Anna Frazier. Okay, so he hadn’t actually seen her since he was twelve and she was ten, but he hadn’t liked her then. She’d been uptight and bossy and really, really intense, even as a kid. He didn’t think she’d have mellowed any, and he knew for a fact he didn’t want her next door all summer.
But he considered Jim and Betty Frazier friends, despite the age difference, so he’d promised to keep an eye on their granddaughter. Then he’d promptly put the call out of his mind.
As Cam passed by the Frazier’s camp, the minivan swung out behind him, executing a few messy turns to get turned around and headed back down the dirt road. Even if she took a bus from her grandparents’ house–where he assumed she’d started–to as far as Concord, the taxi must have cost her a wad of cash. But last he heard Anna had some fancy, high-dollar finance job in New York City, so she could probably afford it.
He pulled his truck in front of his place and killed the engine. When he looked over toward the Frazier place, he saw a mound of luggage and a smoking-hot brunette who looked like she belonged on one of those chick magazines they put next to the cash registers so normal women waiting in line would feel crappy about themselves and grab a candy bar or two. Anna had rich brown hair falling almost to her shoulders in a sleek, straight line. A tank top made of some shimmery, silky material draped really nicely over breasts he never would have guessed the scrawny ten-year-old would develop, and a pair of those things that were longer than shorts but shorter than pants hugged slim hips and showed off nicely sculpted calves. The shoes were an interesting choice, with the high wedge heel, but they did great things for her legs.
Annoying little Anna Frazier had grown up to be hot as hell. And she was going to break an ankle trying to haul in that luggage in those sandals.
Cam got out of his truck and the door slamming drowned out the curse he let loose. He wanted to sit on the dock and drink a beer, not play bellhop for a woman who didn’t have the sense to wear sneakers. But, since he’d promised Jim he’d look after her, he might as well introduce himself and take care of the suitcases at the same time.
A line of trees had been planted between the two camps decades before to give some semblance of privacy, but they were thin enough to see through and there was a well-worn path from one yard to the other. Rather than go out to the road and walk down to the driveway, he just cut through the trees and came at the Fraziers’ front porch from the side.
“You need some help?” Since she had her back to him and had been muttering under her breath, she must not have heard him coming because she jumped a foot and made a strangled squealing sound as she whirled around.