Dating the Rebel Tycoon(19)

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.