Dating the Rebel Tycoon (4 page)

He slid around beside her, placed a hand in the small of her back and did his best to pay attention to his two feet as much as he was paying attention to the swing of her hips beneath his thumb as he herded her towards the Red Fox’s red doors.

‘It’s cold out,’ he said. ‘Come wait in the entrance while I get my jacket. Then we’ll find somewhere else to eat.’

‘After all the time you spent convincing me how great the quesadillas are? Not on your life.’

Well, he’d shot himself in the foot there. All he wanted was her. Alone. Distracting him senseless. Now he was going to be stuck in a place peopled by Dylan and Meg’s mates, who knew
enough about him to want to catch up, and not enough to know which subjects to avoid. ‘There’s a joint down the road where you can choose your own lobster before they boil it.’

She shook her head, no.

‘You sure?’

Her mouth titled into a sexy half-smile as she said, ‘Can’t a girl change her mind?’

Somehow Cameron found the words, ‘Right. Then we’ll head inside, and say polite hellos on the way past as we find a table of our own as far away as it can possibly be. Sound good?’

‘Sounds perfect.’

‘Though, I must warn you, I fully expect them to throw potato wedges at us. If we’re lucky they won’t have dipped them in guacamole first.’

She snuck a quick look sideways. ‘I like guacamole.’

He liked her perfume. He liked her lips. He liked the feel of her beneath his hand. And most significantly he liked the fact that when he was with her his mind couldn’t for the life of it wander.

For that alone he promised her, ‘Then guacamole you shall have.’

They reached the front of the queue and the bouncer looked up, saw Cameron then opened the velvet rope without hesitation.

Cameron nudged Rosalind with his shoulder and she skipped ahead of him, glancing back with a half smile.

The bar crowd closed in around them. She ran a quick hand through her hair, fluffing it up, and straightened her shoulders like she was preparing to enter a prize fight.

Before he let himself think better of it he took her hand, and as though it was exactly what she’d been waiting for her fingers wrapped tight around his. It brought her back to his side, where her warm body fit in against him.

Images of lips and backs against walls and hot hands rushed in on him so fast one would think he’d been a monk these last thirty-two years.

‘Relax,’ Cameron said, so close to Rosie’s ear her lobe got
goose bumps. ‘They won’t bite. Though, just in case, I hope you’ve had your shots.’

She tried to put some air between them, but the crowd kept jostling her back to his side. ‘I don’t know if you’re trying to be funny, as I don’t
know
any of them. I barely even know you.’

Her arm dragged behind her as he came to a halt. She let go of his hand and turned to see why.

He was rooted to the spot among the surging crowd, a half-head taller than everyone else, broader of shoulder, and more likely to make a woman tremble with one look than anyone else she’d ever met.

Talk about being remarkable without any effort whatsoever. Maybe once this unnerving-yet-irresistible night was finally over she would have learnt a thing or two about genuine cool.

He slid his hands into his trouser pockets and asked, ‘What would you like to know?’

‘The highlights so far will do fine.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘The name’s Cameron Quinn Kelly. Star sign, Aries. Six-feet-two inches tall, weight unknown. I like test cricket more than many consider natural, and can spend hours in hardware superstores without spending a cent and never consider it time wasted. I buy far too many useless things on eBay, because once I’m committed to an auction I can’t stand to lose. I’m slightly reluctant to admit my favourite holiday destination is Las Vegas, and I have no shame in saying I have cried during
Dead Poets Society.
’

Rosie took a deep breath. Was it really possible to like a guy that much more after such a simple snapshot? ‘You forgot your favourite colour.’

‘Blue.’

She didn’t doubt it. At some stage that day he’d lost the vest and tie, and the blue shirt hugging his chest was a perfect match for his eyes. It looked so good on him she was finding it hard to remember what else he’d said.

‘Enough?’ he asked.

She swallowed hard, then quipped, ‘That was more than I know about my mailman, and I give him beer at Christmas.’

He bowed ever so slightly. ‘Now, before I let you loose upon
my
friends, maybe I should know more about you too.’

Fighting the urge to cross her arms, she grabbed hold of both lengths of her long scarf as she said, ‘Rosalind Merryweather Harper. Star sign, Taurus. I’m about five-eight. Weight, none of your business.’

His eyes dropped, lightly touching her breasts, her hips and her calves, before sliding neatly back to her eyes. Her pause was noted, and his cheek curved into the kind of smile that made a girl think of fresh sheets, low lighting and coffee in the morning.

Unnerving yet irresistible. Yep, that summed him up perfectly.

‘Merryweather?’ he asked.

She grinned. ‘It’s rude to interrupt. Now, where was I? I’ve been to Nevada twice, yet never seen Vegas. With all those lights it has to be one of the more difficult places on earth to see stars. My guilty pleasure is Elvis Presley movies, and I was born with seven toes on each foot.’

Cameron’s smile wavered. Twitched. Stumbled. His eyes slid to her shoes.

Until she said, ‘Gotcha.’

His eyes took their time meandering up her body before they returned to hers.

‘Satisfied?’ he asked, his voice deeper than the bass notes thumping through the bar.

‘Getting there,’ she breathed.

The shift of the crowd threw them together. The slide of his cotton shirt against her velvet jacket acted like a flint shooting sparks between them.

She pressed both hands against his chest. ‘I’m almost certain somebody promised me dinner.’

He smiled. ‘I’m almost certain you’re right.’

Then for a moment, the briefest snap in time, she thought she caught a glimpse of the man behind the dark-blue fortress, and
saw strengths, knowledge, experience, and hunger far deeper than she’d even imagined. Her fingers curled into his shirt as once again she felt like she was in some kind of free fall.

She didn’t like the feeling one little bit.

She slapped him hard on the chest, twice, then with a thin-lipped smile turned away and slid through the crowd.

And then the St Grellans table loomed before her. She recognised a couple of faces—a school captain, a drama queen, the daughter of an ex–Prime Minister. Bless their hearts.

Rosie felt Cameron slide in behind her. ‘Do you think for some of them school really was the time of their lives?’

‘Was it the time of yours?’

Rosie scoffed so loudly she practically snorted. ‘You reeeally don’t remember me from back then, do you?’

His silence was enough of an answer. Then he had to go and ask, ‘Do you remember me?’

She thought it best to let her own silence speak for itself on that one.

A
N HOUR
and a half later, with the remains of a shared plate of nachos dripping in sour cream taking the edge off her flashback-phobia, Rosie felt surprisingly serene.

Cameron was a great date—talkative, funny, attentive. And he didn’t flinch when she ordered seconds of the quesadillas. That was during the sporadic moments in which they’d been left alone.

A round of drinks had appeared every half hour on the dot, followed by a rowdy toast from the other side of the restaurant. Just about everyone had come over to pay their respects as though Cameron was some kind of Mafia don. And Tabitha stopped by for a chat every time she went to powder her nose. During those moments Cameron held his beer glass so hard his fingertips were the colour of bruises.

Then, when she had him to herself again, he was a different man. The darkness abated, the clouds cleared and he was entirely present. That was the reason she’d sucked up her pride and entered the dragons’ den.

In the end she was so glad she had. If nothing else came of the night, slaying some dragons of her youth had been a major plus. Even so, she half-wished they had gone somewhere else after all so that she could have had a little more time with
that
Cameron Kelly.

‘Glad we stayed?’ he asked.

A fast song came on and Rosie had to lean in to hear him properly. Cameron took her cue and leaned in himself. He was close enough that she could see the ridges in his teeth, a small scar on the bridge of his nose and a slight shadow of stubble at his throat. Tiny imperfections that should have made him less attractive only made him more so.

She smiled. ‘You were right about the quesadillas. If they plonked another plate in front of me there is no way I could send them back.’

‘Good. Now, for the real reason I invited you to dinner. When do I get my free horoscope?’

She laughed, and flicked the back of his hand so hard he flinched. With reflexes like a cat, he grabbed her offending hand and held it, ostensibly to keep himself from harm, but when his thumbs began running up and down her palm she wasn’t so sure.

She manoeuvred her hand away, then sat back and crossed her arms, crossed her legs and remonstrated with herself to keep her feet firmly on the ground where they belonged.

‘Pay attention,’ she said. ‘Because I’m not going to tell you this again. I am a scientist, not a fortune teller. I study the luminosity, density, temperature and chemical composition of celestial objects. My speciality is Venus, the one planet you can still see in the sky after sunrise, about a hand span at arm’s length above the western horizon. I am an authority in the field, and if you’re not careful one of these times I might turn missish and decide to get offended.’

Cameron looked deep into her eyes, seemingly deadly serious. ‘So, tell me, are we alone in the universe?’

She threw out her arms and laughed until every part of her felt loose. ‘Are you kidding me?’

‘I’m interested in your expert opinion.’

‘Here it is. In all my years searching the stars, I’ve never knowingly seen anything which I couldn’t explain. But I’d feel
way sillier ruling out the idea than flat-out believing we’re alone. The universe is a great, strange and mysterious place.’

He smacked a fist on the table. ‘I knew those UFO stories couldn’t all be fakes.’

She picked up her napkin and threw it at him. He caught it before it landed in his food. And they sat there smiling at one another like a pair of goons.

An hour later Tabitha was back, perched on the corner of the table, prattling on and on about Dylan’s high-school pranks, and Meg’s spate of hopeless boyfriends; Cameron had had enough.

The fabulous distraction that was Rosalind Harper only worked when the life he was trying to forget wasn’t being shoved down his throat quite so regularly. More to the point, he’d spent enough time with a table between them and an audience watching over them. He wanted to get her alone.

As though she’d sensed him watching her, Rosalind glanced at him over her left shoulder, frowned, then licked a stray drop of salsa sauce from the edge of her lip.

He tilted his head towards the front door. Her eyes brightened, she nodded, and he wished he’d done so a hell of a lot sooner.

He clapped his hands loud enough to cut through Tabitha’s verbosity. ‘Tabitha, the lovely Rosalind and I are away.’

Tabitha stood up. ‘Oh, right. You sure? I just never get to see you any more. Meg says it’s because you’re always so busy with work, but—’

‘Yep,’ he said. ‘Quite sure. Our after-dinner plans are set in stone. We have to leave immediately.’

Rosalind, trouper that she was, grinned and nodded through his fibs.

Tabitha backed up with a wave. ‘Okay, then. Cam, maybe I’ll see you at your dad’s party on the weekend if you can drag yourself away from work. Rosalind, it was a pleasure. I’ll say hi to Meg for you. Both of you.’

Rosalind gave her a wave back, then when she was gone
slumped her forehead to the table, arms dangling over the edge from the elbows down. Cameron laughed as he caught the attention of a passing waitress and mimed the need for the bill.

‘And why didn’t we go somewhere else to eat?’ she asked from her face-down position.

‘The quesadillas.’

She clicked her fingers and lifted her head. ‘Right. And you have to admit there was nary a projectile potato-wedge in sight.’

‘The place should advertise as much.’

She grinned, her eyes sparkling, that wide, sensual mouth drawing his eyes like a lighthouse on a stormy night. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her as much when the bill arrived.

Saved by the waiter, Cameron took out his wallet, which was closely followed by Rosalind’s. He stilled her hand with his. ‘Put that away.’

She slid her hand free and hastened to flick through compartments, searching for cash. ‘I’ve got it covered.’

‘Rosalind, stop fidgeting and look at me.’

She did as she was told, but it was obvious she was not at all happy about it. And again he got a glimpse of how stubborn she could be.

‘I invited you out tonight, so it’s my treat. Let me play the gentleman,’ he insisted. ‘It’s not all that often I get the chance. Please.’

It was the ‘please’ that got to her. Her flinty-grey eyes turned to soft molten-silver and finally she let go of the death grip on her wallet. ‘Fine; that would be lovely. Thanks.’

He threw cash on the table. As she eyed the pile, she brightened. ‘But you have to let me look after the tip.’

‘Too late; I’ve already added fifteen percent.’

‘Why not twenty?’

‘Fifteen’s customary.’

‘Tips shouldn’t be just customary. They can make the difference between the underpaid kitchen staff, out there right now washing our dirty dishes, paying rent this week or not.’

Cameron blinked. Forthright, stubborn,
and
opinionated. He tried to reconcile that with the playful, uninhibited girl he’d thought he’d picked up at the planetarium, and found he could not.

What did it matter? Whatever she was, it was working for him.

He said, ‘So the tip comes to…?’

‘Fourteen-ninety,’ Rosalind said a split second before he did. She threw another twenty dollars on the table before he had the chance to try, and glanced at him with a half smile. ‘Beat ya.’

‘Geek,’ he said, low enough only she could hear.

As she put her wallet away she grinned, then leaned in towards him. ‘Let’s blow this joint before Tabitha comes back.’

‘Excellent plan.’

Cameron stuck close as he herded Rosalind back through the crowd, partly to protect her from the flailing arms of dancers and chatters alike, but mostly because being close to her felt so damn good.

‘So, what now?’ she asked.

He moved closer until he was deep inside her personal space. ‘Lady’s choice.’

She licked her bottom lip, the move so subtle he almost missed it. ‘Okay. But dessert is most definitely on me.’

She turned and practically bounced ahead of him.

The image of her wearing nothing but strategically placed curls of chocolate was distracting in a way he might never get over.

Cameron waved a hand towards a large, red plastic toadstool in the universal courtyard outside the Bacio Bacio gelataria on South Bank.

Rosalind sat upon it, knees pressed together, ankles shoulder-width apart, sucking cinnamon-and-hazelnut flavoured
gelato
off her upside-down spoon.

He had straight vanilla. He’d been craving it all day.

As the rich taste melted on his tongue, he let out a deep breath through his nose and stared across the river at his city. His eyes roved over the three skyscrapers he’d built, the two others he
now owned, and through the gaps which would soon be filled with more incomparable monoliths he had in the planning.

‘Some view, don’t you think?’ he said, his voice rough with pride.

Rosalind squinted up at the sky and frowned.

Cameron said, ‘Try ninety-degrees down.’

‘Oh.’ Her chin tilted and her nose screwed up as she watched the red and white lights of a hundred cars ease quietly across the Riverside Expressway. ‘What am I missing?’

He held a hand towards the shimmer of a trillion glass panels covering the irregular array of buildings. ‘Only the most stunning view in existence.’

She stared at it a few moments longer as she nonchalantly tapped her spoon against her mouth. ‘I see little boxes inside big boxes. No air. No light. No charm.’

Cameron shifted on his spot on the toadstool. ‘I am in the business of building the big boxes. Skyscrapers are my game.’

She turned to look at him, resting her chin on her shoulder, a lock of her long, wavy hair swinging gently down her cheek. ‘Sorry.’

‘Apology accepted.’

‘Though…’

‘Yes?’

‘A city is a finite thing. Some day, in the not too distant future, someone like you will come along and tear down your building to make a bigger one. Doesn’t that feel like wasted effort?’

He laughed, right from his gut and out into the soft, dark silence. ‘You sure don’t pull your punches, do you?’

Her cheek lifted into a smile—a smile that made him want to reach out and entwine his fingers in her kinky tresses.

Before he had the chance, she shook her hair back and looked out at the city. ‘Growing up, my only chance at being heard was by having something remarkable to say.’

‘I hear that. Big family?’

‘Like yours, you mean? Ah, no. My mother and I did not ski
together, or turn on the City Hall Christmas-tree lights together. My mum cleaned houses and waited tables and took in ironing, and I can’t remember five times we ate dinner together. Much of the time she had other things on her mind.’

She glanced back at him, the reflection of the river creating silver waves in her eyes. And she smiled. No self-pity; no asking for compassion. Only Rosalind Harper just as she was, wide open.

While he sat there, the most mistrustful man on the planet. The secrets he’d kept had led him to play his cards close to his chest his whole life. Hell, he had three accountants so that no one man knew where he kept all his money.

She hid nothing. Not her thoughts, her past, her flaws, her quirks. He wondered what it might feel like to be that transparent. To leave it up to others to take you or leave you.

Oh, he wanted to take her. Badly. But though a level of shared confidence came with them having gone to the same school, and though he was attracted to her to the point of distraction, and though she made him laugh more than any woman he’d ever met, there was nothing he wanted bad enough to make him quit his discretion.

He tightened all the bits of himself that seemed to loosen around her, as he gave as little and as much as he could. ‘Is this where you expect me to try to convince you how difficult my childhood was?’

‘Cameron,’ she said, white puffs of air shooting from her now down-turned lips. ‘I have no expectations of you whatsoever.’

And, just like that, tension pulled tight between them. It was so sudden, so strong, he felt a physical need to lean away, but the invisible thread that had bound them together from the beginning refused to break.

He finally figured out what that thread was.

He’d convinced himself he’d been merrily indulging in an attraction to a pretty girl with a smart mouth. He should have known that wouldn’t be enough to tempt him. He was a serious man, and, beneath the loose Botticelli hair, the uncensored wry
wit and carefree, sultry clothes, Rosalind Harper’s serious streak ran as deep as a river.

It would no doubt make for further unpleasant clashes; it would mean continuously avoiding the trap of deep discussions.

Unless he walked away now.

His shoes pressed into the ground, and his body clenched in preparation for pushing away. Then his eyes found hers. Shards of unclouded moonlight sliced through the round silver irises. She had never looked away, never backed down. Who was this woman?

The wind gentled, softened, and took with it a measure of the tension. It tickled at his hair, sending hers flickering across her face. Before he found a reason not to, he reached out and swept it back behind her ear. Her hair was as soft as he’d imagined, kinky and thick and silken.

Her chest rose, her lips parted, her eyes burned. Seconds ago he was ready to walk away. Now he wanted to kiss her so badly he was sure he could already taste her on his tongue. He let his hand drop away.

Rosalind turned back to face the river. She scooped
gelato
onto her spoon and shoved it into her mouth, as though cooling her own tongue. Then from the corner of her mouth she said, ‘Am I alone in thinking that got a little heated for a bit?’

‘That it did,’ he drawled.

She nodded and let the spoon rattle about in her mouth. ‘That wasn’t me trying to be particularly remarkable.’

‘Mmm. I didn’t think so.’

She laughed through her nose. ‘Thank goodness, then; neither of us is perfect.’

Cameron had to laugh right along with her. It was the best tension-release there was. The best one could indulge in in public, anyway.