Or perhaps Cameron Kelly was to be the man who would help her prove to herself just how strong she could be, and how the hard work she'd put into herself to make sure she wouldn't make the same mistakes her mum made had truly paid off.
Less than certain of her reasoning, she still said, 'Fine. Yes.'
His forehead unknotted, and she hadn't even realised how tight it had been as he'd awaited her answer. Unless it was evidence of other concerns, which in the midst of her internal toing and froing she had all but forgotten he had.
'Cameron, is … ?' She shook her head, searched for the words that would least likely bring the shutters slamming down between them. 'I'd understand if you wanted to make time for your brothers and sister tomorrow night instead, to talk about … things. Or maybe even to go see your dad in person. I know I'm being presumptuous, but with twenty-twenty hindsight that would be my next move.'
'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 tomorrow? 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.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE 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.