Reading Online Novel

Dating the Rebel Tycoon(17)



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 passed 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.

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 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.'

Rosie's laughter split the quiet night. 'Tabitha on caffeine? I don't blame you for hiding.'

His eyes slid down her face to settle upon her lips. Her heart shot into   her throat. She shut her mouth. But it was no use; every part of her   buzzed in expectation of what it would feel like to have his lips on   hers.

'Did you know Venus is the hottest planet in our solar system?' Okay, so she was getting desperate.

He paused about three inches from touchdown.

She went on, 'And, while Venus was the Roman goddess of beauty and love,   in Greek mythology she was named Aphrodite, and Ishtar for the   Babylonians?'

'That I'm sure I knew. I went to a very good school, you know.'

He was so close now; he breathed out, she breathed in, and the sweet taste in her mouth was his.

'Did you ever see that movie-? Ishtar? What was the name of that French actress?'

'Rosalind.'

'I don't think so. I wouldn't have forgotten her name if it was the same as-'

'Rosalind,' he growled.                       
       
           



       

'Yes, Cameron?'

'Shut up so I can kiss you.'

'Yes, Cameron,' she whispered, but it was lost as his lips finally, finally found hers.

She'd heard how some people claimed they saw their lives flashing before   their eyes as they were about to pass over. She'd never really  believed  it could happen until that moment.

Memories of past kisses faded to dust. Every other man she'd ever   thought she'd been attracted to melted into a grey, shapeless   nothingness, and the blank slate inside her head filled with everything   Cameron as emotion upon emotion crashed over her so fast she couldn't   keep up.

She tucked a hand along the back of his neck, letting her fingers delve   into his soft, springy hair as she pulled him close. His hands bunched   into the back of her dress. And together they shifted and turned until   every part of them that could touch did.

The kiss deepened, warmed, and took her breath, her sense and her mind   until she curved against him like a sapling defenceless against a strong   gale.

Helpless, unprotected, lost …

The wind in her ears began to decelerate as the kiss gentled and fell   away. It took a few seconds longer before she was able to clamber her   way back to the surface, only to find Cameron's smouldering eyes looking   deep into hers.

'You busy tomorrow night?' he asked.

She blinked heavily, trying to remember where she was, what day it was, who she was … 'You need some new material.'

'My material is just fine. Are you free?'

She still needed a moment to gather the last few strands of sense that   had not been unravelled by his kiss. She'd known it would be amazing,   but she hadn't expected anything could be so stunning that it could sap   her of every ounce of judgement so that she stood there wide open,   wanting more, taking more, any tiny little bit she could get her hands   on.

She licked her lips, took a breath, then said, 'I'm busy every night. Busy busy busy, stargazing and the like.'

'Too busy to have dinner with me again?'

'It's certainly possible.'

'I've never known a woman make me work so hard to pin her down for a simple dinner-date.'

He ran a fast hand through his hair, mussing it up, making him look like   he'd just tumbled out of bed. The pure, unadulterated sexual energy   that careened unimpeded through her brought her out of her trance   quick-smart.

She pulled away just enough so that she could feel where she ended and   he began. 'The thing is, Cameron, dinner with you has never been   simple.'

He trailed one hand up her back to unhook her knot of hair, sliding his   fingers through it until it fell down her back. Then he twirled a curl   around one finger and let it go. Again and again and again.

He said, 'If you like simple, "yes" is a simple word. Only three little letters.'

Heck, if she was looking for simple, the word 'no' only had two letters.   So why was it so very hard for her to say? Because cracks the likes of   which she'd never experienced before were appearing in her resolve. So   far she was coping okay. She was keeping her feet, she was sticking up   for herself. What she couldn't be sure of was at what point the damage   would be irreparable.