Dating the Rebel Tycoon (8 page)

‘Being with you tends to keep me more pleasantly occupied.’ He said it with the kind of smile he knew could make a girl’s knees go weak. But she wasn’t falling for it, not when she’d glimpsed what it felt like to really be with him on the other side of the wall. It was enough to keep her pushing.

‘So that would be a no to visiting your dad?’

Cameron’s cooling smile said it all.

‘Did you even talk to Brendan about it?’ she pressed.

His eyes narrowed.

She just raised an eyebrow in return. ‘You’re not going to scare me off the subject. Being an obnoxious teenager prepared me too well for dealing with stubborn men like you.’

A glint lit his eyes, and the corner of his mouth lifted. ‘I’m beginning to see that. Fine. He made no mention of my father’s health, but he was quite vocal about the fact that if I don’t come to the birthday bash this weekend I may as well relinquish my surname for good.’

His hand on her back slid upwards, the shift of fabric made her body melt back against him.

‘Them’s strong words,’ she said, her voice husky.

He pushed the hair he’d been playing with behind her ear. ‘Brendan’s been around the longest. He’s been indoctrinated. He doesn’t know any other type of words.’

‘Poor Brendan,’ she whispered.

‘Poor, poor Brendan.’

He leaned in and placed a kiss just below her ear, and she half forgot what they were talking about. And when he moved to nibble on her earlobe itself she forgot the other half.

An age later when he pulled away all she could remember was that they had agreed to a third date. ‘So, where to tomor
row? A spaceship? No, a submarine. It better be your basic, run-of-the-mill submarine or I’m out of there.’

‘I was thinking of taking you to the first place I ever built.’

She bit back a yawn. ‘Fine. But they’d better serve coffee. Three nights out in a row, and I’m afraid I might fade to a shadow.’

‘If that’s what it’ll take.’ With that he pulled her close and kissed her again. This time it was slow, soft, tender, mesmerising. He tasted of white wine and strawberries. He made every inch of her feel toasty warm. In that moment the word ‘yes’ felt like the easiest word in the entire world.

When he pulled away, he did so with discernible regret.

He groaned, spun her on the spot, gave her a small shove in the direction of her car and said, ‘Now get, before today becomes tomorrow and we both turn into pumpkins.’

As Rosie walked down the street she felt Cameron’s eyes on her the whole way. He obviously hadn’t believed her about her ability with her boots. Or maybe he just liked the view.

She added a swagger for good measure.

T
HE
sun was just beginning to rise but Cameron’s backside had already been parked atop a dry, paint-spattered stool for an hour as he earned his keep playing diplomat between Bruce, the project manager, and Hamish, the architect. With a month to go before completion, things were tense.

He slid a finger beneath his hard hat to wipe the gathering sweat from his brow, and was hit with the image of Rosalind wearing one the night before.

With those big, grey eyes and her long hair hanging in sexy waves beneath the orange monstrosity, she’d looked adorable. And he was entirely certain she’d had no idea. As a short-term distraction she was proving to be all he could have hoped for.

‘Kelly!’ Bruce called out, slamming Cameron back to earth with a thud.

‘What?’ he barked.

‘Where the hell have you been for the past five minutes? You sure as hell haven’t been on Planet Brisbane.’

Cameron frowned. But Bruce was right. Spending every spare moment with Rosalind was proving to be mighty helpful at distracting him from obsessing about his father. He just didn’t need that distraction spilling over into other areas of his life.

Since he’d been thrown out on his own, his business was his everything. It filled his waking hours, and many of his sleeping
ones as well. It was his fuel, his drive, his passion. While on the other hand, Rosalind was…

‘Earth to Cameron,’ Bruce said, shaking his head.

Cameron mentally slapped himself across the back of the head. Enough, already.

‘I’m here,’ he growled. ‘Keep going.’

Bruce leant against a column and crossed his arms. ‘I was just telling Hamish here about your little tryst upstairs last night. Candles? Seafood?’

Cameron all but threw the handful of papers in his hands into the air in surrender.

Hamish pulled up a stool so that he was in Cameron’s direct eyeline. ‘Please tell me the big man’s been telling tales out of school. You did not bring some woman here after hours without proper supervision. Not a month out from signing off?’

Cameron stared hard at his mate. Hamish—who had known him since university, therefore knew him only as the ambitious, focussed, blinkered entrepreneur he had become—stared right on back.

‘God, Cam,’ Hamish drawled. ‘You had to be breaking a good dozen laws, not to mention union rules.’

‘You think I didn’t tell him that?’ Bruce asked.

But Hamish wasn’t done. In fact there was a distinct glint in his eye as he crossed his arms and leant back on the stool. ‘Cam,’ he said. ‘The last of the honourable men, brought thudding back to earth by a mystery woman. Who the heck is she?’

Cameron closed his eyes and ran his index finger and thumb hard across his forehead. ‘She’s no-one you know. And this subject is now closed.’

‘Fine with me.’ Hamish held both hands in the air, then glanced at his paint-splattered watch. ‘I have somewhere else to be.’

‘We have work to do, McKinnon,’ Bruce cried. ‘Where else could you possibly have to be?’

‘I have a date waiting for me on the exterior-window
cleaning trestle. She should be at about the thirtieth floor by now, so I’ll just go grab the champagne and get harnessed up.’

Cameron didn’t even bother telling Hamish where to go, he just slid from the stool and walked away.

‘Where’s he think he’s going?’ he heard Bruce ask as he reached the lift door.

‘If he’s trying to cut in on my date,’ Hamish said, ‘It’ll be pistols at dawn.’

There was a pause, then Bruce said, ‘I thought you were kidding about the girl,’ as the lift doors closed. Cameron was only half-sorry he missed Hamish’s response.

He reached the top floor before he knew it. The lift doors opened to a cacophony of noise as glaziers, construction workers and plasterers chatted, banged, drilled, swore and gave the place the kind of raw energy that usually invigorated him.

It meant progress. Honest work, honestly executed by honest men. Sweat of the brow stuff. He was proud of the healed blisters on his own hands for that exact reason.

But as he hit the spot on the roofless penthouse floor, where the night before Rosalind had sat upon a crate, looking out over his city, and with her mix of ruthless candour and subtle beauty had managed to smooth over his perpetual dissatisfaction, the noise faded away.

He leant a foot against the edge of the roof and looked out over the horizon where streaks of cloud were just beginning to herald the rising of the sun.

He held out his hand at arm’s length and a span above the horizon; just where she’d said it would be, there it was: Venus. A glowing crescent in the pale-grey sky.

His hand dropped. Somewhere out there, beyond the borders of the noisy, thriving city he loved, she would be sitting somewhere quiet looking at the exact same point in the sky.

And while she was thinking trajectories, gas clouds and expanding universes, he was thinking about her. About seeing her again tonight. It would be their third date in as many nights,
which was more time than he’d spent with one woman in as long as he could remember. More time than he ever let himself see Meg or Dylan.

A thread of guilt snuck beneath his unusually unguarded defences. He’d kept those he loved most at the greatest distance so as to save them from being tainted with the hurtful knowledge about his father’s weak character he always carried with him. But something Rosalind had said made him wonder: was keeping them at bay hurting them as much?

If he really wanted to see them he knew where they’d be that weekend, all in the one place at the one time, which was usually an impossible feat.

He ran a hand over his mouth. If he went to his father’s birthday party, he pretty much knew what would happen. Brendan would swagger, Dylan would win money on a bet he had made somewhere about the date of his return home and Meg would squeal, leap into his arms, then try to set him up with a girlfriend. And his mother would probably cry.

His stomach clenched on his mother’s behalf. The clench turned to acid as he thought of how shabbily she’d been treated by the one person who was meant to care for her. The idea of putting on a show at a celebration of that man’s years on earth turned to dust in his throat.

He needed to put it out of his mind for good. He checked his watch. Twelve hours to go before he was due to pick Rosalind up at the planetarium. Not soon enough.

‘Cam?’

He turned to find Hamish standing in the lift, holding the door open.

‘Anything else you want to go over before I do head off?’

Cameron had to think, the usually crisp, clear list in his head squished at the edges, having been pushed aside by other pressing thoughts. ‘If there is, I’ll call you.’

Hamish nodded and stepped back into the lift, where he held the door open. ‘Unless, of course, you need a different kind
of advice. I have some moves the likes of which you could not even imagine.’

‘I’ve got it covered,’ Cameron said, his voice gruff.

Hamish nodded. ‘Good to know.’

Cameron stretched his arms over his head and shook out the looseness that invaded his limbs, and the wooliness that infiltrated his head whenever Rosalind Harper was on his mind.

He did have it covered. He just needed to find some perspective. His business was his life. His family his cross to bear. Rosalind Harper was a delightful but temporary distraction. Tonight he would make sure those boundaries were clearly redefined.

By the time he joined Hamish in the lift, he was clearheaded and ready to act like the head of a multi-million-dollar business.

When after several seconds the lift had yet to move, he realised he’d forgotten to press the button. He reached out and jabbed it so hard his finger hurt.

As the lift doors closed, Hamish said, ‘If you’re this scrambled, I’m thinking redhead.’

Rosalind’s face swam before Cameron’s eyes—her wide eyes unguarded, her smile heartfelt, her kiss like heaven on earth.

‘Hair like caramel,’ he said. ‘Skin like cream, legs that go on for ever.’

Hamish swore softly and Cameron grinned.

On the other side of the city, Rosie peeled her eye away from the planetarium’s telescope then stared unseeingly at her open laptop.

The cursor blinked hopefully on a blank screen. Her daily notes about Venus’s position, colour, opacity, flares, shadows, and any other nuances her dedicated study was meant to bring forth, were lost within the muddy mire of her mind.

She glanced through the gap in the domed ceiling and stared at the distant patch of sky where Venus’s crescent had been before streaks of cloud slid across the view. Though, truth be
told, she wasn’t entirely sure how long she’d been staring at cloud rather then planet.

She leant her hand on the telescope, leant her chin on her hand and stared at a blank spot mid-air about an inch from her nose. Her mind wandered happily back to the top floor of CK Square. Was Cameron there now? What was he doing? Who was he with? What was he wearing? Was he thinking about her at all?

‘Mornin’ kiddo!’

At Adele’s voice, Rosie jumped so high she landed awkwardly and clunked herself on the chin. She rubbed the spot with one palm and asked, ‘What time is it?’

Adele perched on the corner of a desk and shrugged. ‘Seven-ish.’

Rosie groaned and let her face land against her forearm, where she got a mouthful of red-and-grey-striped wool poncho. She waved a hand in the direction of her laptop and her voice was muffled as she said, ‘I’ve been here since five-ish and have literally achieved nothing.’

A crunching sound brought her head up to find Adele eating a packet of corn chips. Rosie clicked hungry fingers at her friend.

Adele stood. ‘Uh-uh. Not while you’re within breathing distance of my telescope. I’ve already had to explain to the board why we needed to have the mirrors cleaned twice last month. A third time and they’ll start looking closer.’

Rosie packed up her gear and dragged herself after her friend into the nearby office, where she slumped into an old vinyl chair. She grabbed a handful of chips then hooked her boots over the edge of the chair.

‘So,’ Adele said, swinging back and forth on her office chair, eyes narrowed. ‘How is it that you, Rosalind “stars in her eyes” Harper spent two hours sitting at that thing without making a single note?’

Rosie licked cheese-flavoured salt off her fingers and stared at her friend wondering what, if anything, she should say. Could say. In the end she went with, ‘My mind was otherwise occupied.’

It took less than half a second for Adele to join the dots. ‘Who’s the poor sod?’

She baulked. It wasn’t as though she’d kept her dates from her best friend because they felt too precious; she just hadn’t found the time. So if that was true why was she hesitating now? She closed her eyes tight and blurted, ‘Cameron Kelly.’

When Adele didn’t shoot her down with a snappy comeback, Rosie opened one eye.

‘Cameron Kelly,’ Adele said. ‘
The
Cameron Kelly who was here the other morning?’

Rosie nodded.

‘Well, fair enough too,’ Adele said. ‘Those thighs, that voice, those eyes; I’ve been having some nice dreams ever since myself.’

Rosie nibbled at her lower lip and let her legs slide back to the floor. ‘The thing is it’s kind of gone beyond nice dreams. We’ve been out the past two nights. And he’s picking me up here to take me to dinner again tonight.’

‘So why don’t you sound as over the moon about that fact as I feel you should?’

‘He’s just not the kind of guy I usually go for.’

‘Um, he’s gorgeous and sexy. And you usually go for gorgeous and sexy. Think about the blond who hung around here every morning last summer, making the place smell like sunscreen.’

‘Jay was following the waves down the east coast. His job was over at nine in the morning.’

‘Right, well, he was gorgeous and sexy. And last winter…?’

Rosie thought back. ‘Marcus.’

‘Right! The American professor playing job-swap for three months. Super-duper cute in a leather elbow-patch, reading-Emily-Dickinson-to-you-in-bed kind of way. So what makes this one so different?’

Rosie shrugged.

‘Is there something wrong with the guy you’re not telling
me? Some physical flaw hidden beneath the designer duds? Some personality deviation one would never expect? It’s okay; I can take it. I have fantasy guys in reserve.’

‘Well…no. Okay, it’s like this—he has that inviolable, lone-wolf aura that makes some men always get chosen captain of every team they join, which I really like. He’s resilient, self-reliant, and far too focussed on the intricacies of his own life to even think about searching for the girl of his dreams.’

‘He sounds just like you.’ Adele nodded along. ‘Except the liking girls part.’

‘In that respect, I guess, yeah. But then in the spirit of full disclosure he’s shared with me intimate details of his private life. And he’s the kind of man who opens your car door without being asked. I didn’t know they even existed any more. Is a nice streak a personality flaw? No, I’m clutching at straws there. Because the way he kisses…’

Rosalind’s voice petered away as she became lost in memories of his sultry, liquefying, unnerving, transporting kiss. There had not been one moment of that kiss that could be blandly described as ‘nice’.

‘Hey!’ Adele called out. ‘You seem to have drifted off there at the best part.’

‘Use your imagination,’ Rosie said.

‘Oh, I shall.’

Rosie hunched inside her poncho and wondered about Cameron’s best parts. Somehow she knew she hadn’t even scratched the surface. And that was fine; he could hardly help it if he was naturally fascinating. It was the ferocity with which she found herself longing to know those parts, and to let him get a glimpse of hers, that had her in a twist.

She began nervously flicking at a crack in the end of one short fingernail. ‘So, do I see him tonight or quit while I’m ahead?’

‘I’m sorry, was Miss Independent looking for my humble opinion?’

Rosie glanced up. ‘I ask your opinion all the time.’

‘Sure you do, when you want to know which science journals might suit whatever new paper you’ve whipped up.’