Dating The Rebel Tycoon Part 9

'Though he looks scary, Bruce is really a big softie. He huffed and puffed and made me promise we'd wear helmets, and then promptly forgot I ever let him know what I was planning.'

She realised then that this would have taken a lot of planning. Meaning he'd been thinking about dinner, and more importantly about her, for much of the day.

What had happened to the hard, fast, cool character she was meant to be dating? And why was she so d.a.m.n stubborn that she wasn't running scared right now?

He lifted his gla.s.s in salute. She took hers in a slightly unsteady hand and touched it to his. The clink of fine craftsmanship echoed in the wide, open s.p.a.ce.

She said, 'Here's to Bruce.'

Cameron gave a small nod and took a sip, his eyes never once leaving hers. The urge to laugh had been replaced by the urge to scream. This was all so unreal, the kind of thing that happened to other girls. Nice girls. Not pragmatic girls who'd deliberately ruined every semi-meaningful relationship by walking away before the other shoe had a chance to drop.

She allowed herself the luxury of screaming on the inside of her head, and it helped a little.

'Hungry?' Cameron asked.

'Famished,' she said on a whoosh of air. Her eyes drifted to the silver-domed platters. 'So, who else did you bribe tonight?'

'A friend owns a place at Breakfast Creek Wharf.' He opened up the first dome to reveal a steaming plate of something delicious-looking. 'Scored calamari-strips in capsic.u.m salsa, topped with quarters of lime.'

Rosie flapped her hands at him. 'Gimme, gimme, gimme.'

Cameron did as he was told and she dove in. At the first bite the taste exploded on her tongue, sour and sweet, fresh, salty and juicy. Plenty to keep her mouth full so she didn't have to talk. And didn't have to hear him say anything else to make her warm to him even more.

Her eyes shifted sideways to the four other domes, a move he didn't miss.

'Lobster-tail salad with truffle oil,' he said. 'Followed by apple and rhubarb tart with homemade vanilla and cinnamon ice cream.'

She warmed a good ten degrees.

A while later, after she swallowed her last mouthful of what had been the most heavenly, delicious apple pie ever created, Rosie let out a great sigh, folded her napkin on the table and looked up to find Cameron sitting back in his chair watching her.

She wiped a quick hand over her mouth, in case she had a glob of melted ice cream on the edge of her lip. But that wasn't it. He was watching her like she'd watched the lobster tail: with relish for what was ahead.

Those blue eyes of his, so like his dad's.

Her heart squeezed for him so suddenly, she held a hand to her chest. But knowing how it felt to have no father at all was one connection she couldn't will away. She wondered what might happen if someone stuck his father and him in a room together and locked the door. It couldn't hurt, but would it help?

Or should she just mind her own business and be glad he was ever so slightly aloof? Aloof was a good thing. Aloof meant there was no chance of any real deep connection being made. Which was fine. Great, even. Perfect.

Cameron's mobile phone rang, and she jumped.

He glanced at it briefly then ignored it.

It rang and rang, and Rosie ran a finger over the last of the melted, cinnamon-flecked ice cream on her plate, licking it off her finger. 'I think that might be your phone making all that racket.'

'It's my brother Brendan,' he said, jaw tight. 'He's the least likely person in the world to call unless he wants something.'

If she'd thought him aloof before, that was nothing compared with the thick, high wall blocking all access to him now. But it didn't help her situation one bit. If there was one thing she didn't like more than feeling emotionally unchecked, it was being made to feel invisible.

'Unless, of course, it's an urgent family matter,' she said, her voice as rigid as his change of behaviour.

His brow furrowed as he glanced at his phone, already a million miles away from her. 'Do you mind?'

'Not in the least.' She stood, snaffled a sugar-sprinkled strawberry from a bowl and took the opportunity to give herself some much-needed breathing s.p.a.ce.

CHAPTER SEVEN

ROSIE had no idea how long she sat on a box crate, nothing between her and the edge of the building but fresh air, watching the world below her winding down. had no idea how long she sat on a box crate, nothing between her and the edge of the building but fresh air, watching the world below her winding down.

The Brisbane River curved like a silver snake around the city. White boats bobbing on the river surface looked like little glow-bugs; dark patches dotted within the sparkly array marked out gardens and parks. And ragged mountains in the distance barely altered the gentle curve of the horizon.

The world was whisper-quiet, bar the shoosh of the wind. And above? The moon was hidden behind patchy, leopard-print cloud, and delicate, multi-coloured stars beamed intermittently through the gaps.

A wall of warmth washed against her back. She tensed and turned to find Cameron, his face lit by the quiet moonlight. 'Everything okay?'

'Fine,' Cameron said, in such a way that she knew it was not. She knew it was about his dad. The moment heaved between them. She itched to ask, to know, but the truth was for her the less she knew about him the better. That always made it easier when the time came to kiss cheeks and walk away.

'So what do you think of the view?' he asked, sliding a crate next to hers.

She hugged her knees to her chest and wrapped her floaty dress tight about her. 'Apart from it giving me a case of adult-onset vertigo?'

He laughed. 'Apart from that.'

'The view is...lovely.'

'Just lovely lovely? Not magnificent? Not unmatchable? This floor will be rented out for so much money it makes me me almost blush.' almost blush.'

'It's pretty. But kind of unreal when surrounded by so much concrete and steel. You really want to see something? Stars so bright, so crisp, so shiny and perfect, that you just want to hug yourself to keep all that beauty locked up tight inside of you.'

As her little flight of fancy came to a close she realised he was watching her with that inscrutable intensity that swept her legs out from under her. Lucky thing she was sitting.

'Where, pray tell,' he asked, 'Can a man see such stars?'

'You're mocking me.'

'I am. Only because it makes you blush, which is a view to match even this one.'

She thanked her lucky stars that he was yet to figure out her blushing had nothing to do with his words, and everything to do with his...everything. As his eyes searched hers, she looked back out into the night.

'Around three a.m. is best,' she said. 'At exactly this time of year. Five-hundred metres down the road from where I live, there's a dirt track leading to a plateau where the land drops away on three sides into Samford Valley. If you look to the south-east you can see the city in the distance. But you won't; you'll be looking up. And you'll truly understand why it's called the Milky Way.'

He breathed deep. 'You'll be there tonight?'

'I'm there every night. Though I must admit, I lasted about an hour this morning before I fell asleep.'

His deep, warm voice skittered across her skin as he asked, 'Tired you out, did I?'

'Hardly. I'm just not as gung ho as I used to be.'

She glanced back at him, and regretted it instantly. The guy was like a strong drink: just one taste and the effect on her body, and mind, was debilitating.

He asked, 'And what are you hoping you might find up there in the sky to be out so late at night?'

She nudged her chin against her shoulder. 'I'm not hoping to see anything. I saw what I needed to see long ago.'

His voice was low as he asked, 'What did you see?'

'That my trifling concerns don't matter all that much to anyone but me.'

'Hmm.' Cameron closed one eye and squinted at her with the other. 'I was brought up believing my family was the actual centre of the universe.'

'You do know the geocentric model went by the wayside around the sixteenth century, right? You've really got to see one of Adele's shows at the planetarium.'

Cameron laughed, and Rosie did too. The sounds joined for the briefest of moments before being carried away on the air.

'Until then, take this home with you-the fault is not in our stars, but in ourselves, that we are underlings.'

Cameron waited a beat before saying, 'Where have I heard that before?'

'Eleventh-grade Shakespeare.'

He blinked blankly.

'Now, come on, you can't tell me you never compared some poor, lovestruck and less-rigorously-educated young thing to a summer's day?'

He leaned forward until his face was a relief map of dark and light. She could see the shape of his hard chest as the breeze flapped his shirt against him, and the worry lines that never truly faded even when he smiled.

Thus she was blithely staring into those dreamy blue eyes when he turned to her and said, 'Thou art more lovely and more temperate.'

Several seconds pa.s.sed in which she said nothing; she just sat there, desperately searching for the humour that ought to have laced his words. Try as she might, she found none. Instead she found herself drowning in his voice, his words, his eyes, in his possibilities.

But that's not why you're seeing him, she told herself slowly, as if approaching an unknown and possibly dangerous animal. You might be revelling in the invigorating slaying of invisibility demons of your childhood, but he is still the greatest of all impossibilities. You might be revelling in the invigorating slaying of invisibility demons of your childhood, but he is still the greatest of all impossibilities.

She uncrossed her arms and grabbed hold of the edge of the crate, let her feet drop back to the concrete floor and dug her toes into her shoes. 'It's getting late.'

Cameron nodded. 'After Brendan rang, my project manager buzzed.'

'Good old Bruce.' The pleasure that skipped through her when he smiled made her wish she'd kept her mouth shut.

'I promised him my whim had been appeased and we were already on terra firma. Unscathed. I got the feeling he was lying in bed awake awaiting that news.'

He held out a hand. She took it. She didn't realise how cold hers was until it was enveloped in the warmth of his. He lifted her easily to her feet, and time folded in on itself as together they walked through the maze of building materials, blowing out each of the candles.

When they reached the table he scooped up her handbag and lifted it onto her shoulder, and then with her hand still snug in his he led her to the lift.

'Shouldn't we take some of that stuff back downstairs?' she asked, giving one last, longing look at the romantic little alcove before, for the sake of every future date, she did her best to forget it had ever existed.

'It'll be taken care of in the morning.'

'There you go again,' she said, shaking her head. 'Thinking yourself at the centre of the universe.'

He lifted his chin. 'You know what? I'm thinking I might hang onto that thought a while longer yet. The pay's good, and the benefits are beyond compare.'

The lift door closed on the concrete and steel, unlit candles and glowing horizon, and Rosie had to admit the guy probably had a point.

They reached the plasterboard wall and Cameron glanced at the top of Rosie's head and held out a hand. It was only then that she even remembered she'd been wearing the orange protective helmet the whole time.

She groaned inwardly. All those longing glances she'd imagined-the moments his eyes had locked on hers, and she'd seen things therein that had made her feel warm all over and scared her silly-she hadn't even noticed his helmet; she'd been so caught up in the rest of him. All the while she must have looked an utter treat.

'If you are hoping to keep it as a souvenir-'

'No, of course not!' She slid it forward, ran ragged fingers across her scalp and tied the length into a hasty knot at her nape, not wanting to know what kind of red marks were shining across her forehead as she spoke.

'Where did you park?' he asked.

She motioned vaguely with her shoulder. 'Down the street.'

He moved in closer. Or had the moon shifted behind a cloud and made everything suddenly seem more intimate? 'Where? I'll walk you there.'

'I'll be fine. These boots might not be steel-capped but I know where to aim them if I get in any trouble.'

The word 'trouble' almost lodged in her throat. Trouble was the look in Cameron's eyes. Trouble was the slip and slide of desire keeping her from backing away as he inched ever closer. Trouble had become her new best friend the moment Cameron Kelly had re-entered her life.

She leapt up on the only thing she could think of that might give her time to find a reasonable, last ditch, way out. 'I've been meaning to ask-what were were you doing in the planetarium yesterday morning?' you doing in the planetarium yesterday morning?'

He paused. She took a thankful breath.

'I'm not sure I should say,' he said.

'And why not?'

'Because it's not going to flatter me any.' And it wasn't enough to stop him any longer. He moved in closer.

Rosie lifted a hand to his chest. 'Try me.'

His eyes narrowed. The weight of him pressed upon her hand. His voice was as low as she'd ever heard it as he said, 'I was hiding.'

'No! Yes? Seriously? From whom?'

'My sister Meg. She was there having coffee with a couple of mates, one of them Tabitha.'