She opened her squinting eye and dropped her hand. Those eyes. Those wide, open eyes. Attraction mixed with concern, and unguarded interest. No wonder he hadn't been able to resist.
She looked down into her melting gelato. 'Are your family worried?'
'I'm fairly sure they don't suspect.' If they had, there was no way they wouldn't have all been on the phone to him, telling him to get his butt over there.
Her brow furrowed as she tried to fit that piece into the puzzle. But all she said was, 'And your dad? Have you asked him straight out?'
Cameron breathed deep through his nose. In for a penny in for a pound … 'That's a tad difficult, considering we haven't spoken in about fifteen years.'
One edge of her bottom lip began getting an extreme workout by way of her top teeth. His physical reaction made him feel all too human.
Eventually she asked, 'On purpose?'
How the hell did she know that was exactly the right question to ask? That no living soul knew how hard he worked to keep clear of the man in question without letting his family know why?
Slowly, he nodded.
'Then why did I think you worked for him?'
'Brendan does. Dylan does. I never have.' Never will.
'But you were planning to, right? Economics degree here, then Harvard Business School?' Her mouth snapped shut and her cheeks pinked. Then her mouth drew up into a half-smile. 'My turn again. I confess I overheard you talking to Callum Tucker about it once in the canteen. Of course, it only stuck with me because he said he was going to become a roadie for a rock band.'
Her smile was infectious. A bubble of laughter lodged in his throat. 'Callum is an orthodontist. And I didn't go to business school. I became a structural engineer. After several years in the field, I moved into property development.'
'Impressive.' She blinked prettily. 'Callum Tucker's an orthodontist.'
The bubble burst, and Cameron's laughter spilled out into the night. Her half-smile bloomed, full and pink and blushing. And, while her hair still whipped lightly about her face in the wind, it had been some time since he felt the cold.
She asked, 'What is a structural engineer, exactly?'
'I warn you, most people tend to go cross-eyed when I start talking structural systems, lateral forces and the supporting and resistance of various loads.'
'Like I don't get blank faces when I get excited about the chemical composition of celestial objects?'
'Sorry,' he said after a pause. 'Did you say something?'
She lifted a hand and slapped him hard across the arm. 'Not funny.'
'Come on, it was a little bit funny.'
She snuck her foot out from under her and placed it next to the other one on the ground, facing him. 'Why not just stick with the engineering?'
'Ego.'
She shot him a blank stare.
'The more things we Kellys see with our name upon them, the happier we are. It comes from having been born out of abject poverty. Generations ago, mind you.'
'How's that? No freshly churned butter on your crust-free organic toast-fingers every second Sunday?'
Cameron grinned. 'Something like that. Ironically, business school would have saved me half the time it took to become profitable when I went out on my own.'
'Nah,' she said, flapping a hand across her face. 'School can only get you so far. In the end you have to throw yourself at the mercy of the universe and take pride in your own ride.'
Cameron let that idea sink in. He was a meticulous planner, demanding control, assurance and perfection from himself and every employee he had. Then again, as a seventeen-year-old kid, he had broken free of the only world he'd ever known. If he hadn't done so he would not be the self-made man he was today.
He nodded. 'I'm damn proud of my ride.'
'Well, then, good for you.'
Her eyes softened, and her smile made him feel like he'd been covered with a warm blanket.
The need to touch her again was overwhelming. Pushing aside her hair would not be enough. He wanted so badly to sink his hand into the mass, pull her in and kiss her until he could taste cinnamon. So, what the hell was stopping him?
The fact that she knew the worst about him certainly didn't help.
Rosalind broke eye contact to eat another mouthful of melting gelato and the moment was gone. And, without her striking grey eyes holding him in place, he remembered: there was something wrong with his father. And worse: after a decade and a half spent keeping his whole family at arm's length because the bastard had given him no choice, he still gave a damn.
He blinked, clearing the red mist from his vision and letting Rosalind fill it instead. At first glance, she seemed a 'just what it says on the tin' kind of person-playful, slightly awkward, with an impertinent streak a mile wide. But those eyes, those changeable, mercurial eyes, kept him wondering. He could have sworn she'd changed the subject back there, knowing it was what he needed.
Then, in the quiet, her hand reached out to his. It took him about half a second to give in and turn her hand until their fingers intertwined.
For the first time since that morning Cameron felt that everything was going to be all right.
He frowned. He'd managed to figure that out on his lonesome time and time again over the years. And at the end of the day, when they parted ways, he'd once again only have himself to count on. To trust.
He gave her hand a brief squeeze before pulling his away and leaning back to rest on the toadstool, cool, nonchalant, like nothing mattered as much as it had seemed to matter moments earlier.
'Cameron-'
'You done?' he asked, gesturing to her melting gelato.
She licked the inside of her lips as though relishing every last drop of the delicious treat. But her eyes pierced his as she asked, 'Are you?'
He didn't pretend not to understand her. 'Well and truly. I didn't invite you out tonight for a therapy session.'
'So, why did you invite me again?' she asked, with just the perfect amount of flirtation in her voice to make his fingers spontaneously flex.
'It was obvious you were the kind to appreciate the finer things in life.'
'Quesadillas and gelato?'
'God, yes.'
He stood.
She did the same, threw her empty container into the bin, pressed her hands into her lower back, then closed her eyes tight and stretched. 'First, I'm a geek. Now I'm obvious. You sure know how to make a girl feel special.'
'Stick around,' he said, his voice gravelly. 'The night is young.'
She stopped stretching and looked him in the eye. Attraction hovered between them like a soap bubble, beautiful, light and with a limited lifespan. Just the way he liked it.
'I could do with walking some of that off.' Cameron patted his flat stomach. 'You game?' He held out a hand.
She stared at it. Then she wiped her hands on her jeans and, after a moment's hesitation, put her hand in his.
Holding hands made him feel like he was seventeen again. But, then again, the fact that he couldn't remember the last time he'd held a woman's hand unless it was to help her out of his car made it feel far more grown up than all that.
As Rosie strolled beside Cameron down the length of South Bank, they talked movies, politics, religion and work. She made fun of him loving a sport that managed to keep a straight face while giving a man a job title of "silly mid-on", while he utterly refused to admit he believed man had ever really set foot on the moon.
But she couldn't get her mind off the elephant in the room; Cameron and his father must have had some kind of falling out. She'd never heard about it in the press or on the grapevine. Yet he'd confided in her. She was caught between being flattered, and being concerned that what had started out as a fun date had become something more complicated so very quickly.
It would be okay so long as she remembered who she was and perhaps, more importantly, who he was. He might have fled the nest but he was still a Kelly. He walked with purpose even if that purpose was simply to walk. He had that golden glow that came with the expectation of privilege, while she knew what it was like to struggle, to trip over her own feet and her own words, and to feel alone even in a room full of people. They were manifestly wrong for one another.
They dawdled along the curving path. Moonlight flickered through the bougainvillea entwined in the open archway above. A group of late-night cyclists shot past and Cameron put an arm around her to move her out of their way. Once they were free and clear he didn't let go.