Dating the Rebel Tycoon(34)

Needing an anchor, someone on her side, she glanced over her shoulder but there was no sign of Adele.

Then he said, 'I tried calling you last night. Many, many times.'

She closed her eyes, swallowed hard then looked back to him. His hair   was mussed. His jeans unironed. Stubble shadowed his jaw. She'd never   seen him so sexily rumpled.

She licked her dry lips and tugged at her T-shirt, and amidst the   fidgeting it occurred to her that beneath the sex-god rumples he also   looked tired, grey around the eyes, like he hadn't had much in the way   of sleep either.

Her hand shook and she gripped her T-shirt tight. 'I left my mobile at home.'

A crease came and went in his cheek. 'I managed to somehow convince   myself of that after the first dozen times you didn't answer. So I   called Adele. She told me you were here. That you were still … upset. And   that I should give you time.'

Rosie glanced at the angle of the sunlight on the porch outside. 'It can't yet be eight o'clock.'

He didn't even need to look to his watch before he said, 'It's not.'

She blinked at him once, then turned and walked inside. The soft click   of the door told her far less than her next breath, which was filled   with his clean, male scent.

Her knees wobbled plenty before she plopped back onto the couch. Cameron   sat next to her. Close. Her scrunched-up blanket had the other third   all to itself.

'Rosie-'

'Coffee?' she asked, her voice overly loud. She as yet needed time to collect herself. To protect herself.

He nodded. She poured.

'I'm not sure where Adele has gone; she was here a minute ago.'

'She gave me a goodbye wave over your shoulder when I first arrived. I'm assuming this place has a back door.'

Rosie swallowed hard. And nodded. They were alone. She would have no choice but to anchor herself.

He said, 'I'll get straight to the point, then, shall I? Which would be a   first, I'm sure. We do seem to have an uncanny ability to lay things  on  the line without ever really getting to the point of what we are  trying  to say.'                       
       
           



       

Her hand shook. She stopped pouring halfway, lest she end up with more   scars for her troubles. Then she pushed a mug in front of him, but his   hands remained clasped on top of his thighs.

He waited til she looked him in the eyes, those deep, dark-blue eyes,   now so solemn, so serious. She nodded. She was as ready as she'd ever   be.

'So, last night on the balcony, you accused me of not appreciating what I   had. And I want you to know that I think you were absolutely right.'

Rosie swallowed. This was not what she had expected at all.

He went on, 'I've put so much time and effort into my work, and my home,   the parts of my life that don't offer any form of opposition. And not   because it was right, but because it was easier than facing the   truth-that I have been taking for granted those things which should have   been more important the whole time.'

As he spoke, as he confessed, his stunning, searching, blue eyes never   once left hers, not a for a second. If she had an ounce of faith left in   her judgement she might have fancied he was talking about her. But  that  boat had sailed the minute she'd said yes to a date with a guy no  sane  woman could know and not love.

Needing a distraction, she grabbed a handful of milk-bottle lollies and   nibbled on the end of one. His gaze finally left her eyes and rested on   her lips before they slid back up.

He rolled his shoulders once, then continued. 'I thought my life was   good. But now I see that it was completely untethered, all the separate   parts unconnected, because I was afraid that I might one day slip up,   word would get back and my family would be hurt. Then you came along,   and I slipped. Over and over again. And you know what?'

'What?' she asked, her chest lifting as she breathed in deep.

'The world didn't end. And last night I began the process of joining the   dots. I have reconnected with old friends. I have spoken with my   father. I have my family back.'

She smiled a wobbly smile. Because she was happy for him. She really was. Not so happy for herself …

Until a hand reached out and took hers, its fingers curling around hers until they were indelibly knotted together. Reconnected.

'Rosie,' he said, and her heart beat so hard she heard it in her ears.   She lifted her eyes to see that he was smiling too. 'Sweetheart, the   glue that brought it all together was you.'

Her heart rate had nothing on the blood rush to her head. She shook it   to try to clear the haze, to pick out the truth from the hope that was   blurring everything. 'I'm not glue,' she said. 'I'm the opposite of   glue. I don't even have any dots to join. You said it yourself-I work   freelance, I live in a van, there is nothing in my life I couldn't walk   away from given a moment's notice. I know nothing about being glue. All  I  do know is that the easiest way to break a person's spirit is to  take  away the things they love. I didn't want that to happen to you.'

'You were too late. It already had. But look at me. I'm still here.'

Cameron was still there, the strength of his spirit radiating from every   pore. 'So here's what I think about all that-a spirit can be broken   only if it's prone to breaking in the first place. And Rosie, honey, you   are a force of nature. Your spirit is so vibrant, so fresh, so honest,  I  am certain there is nothing in this world that could ever break  you.'

She blinked hard, then down at their entwined hands. It was true, her   spirit still raged inside her even after the night she'd had. She felt   sorry for her mum, angry at her dad, proud of Cameron. So she might not   be broken. But that didn't mean that the cracks didn't feel like they   were being held together with old gum.

'Cameron-'

'Cam,' he said, cutting her off. 'Those closest to me call me Cam.'

Her eyes were drawn back to his like magnets to steel. His smile   remained, urged her to really listen. He was telling her that she was   his glue. That he considered her a person close to him. That, even after   she'd run scared the night before, he was still here.

Rosie felt the moment heave between them, draw breath and wait. Her   world, her universe, her past, present and future felt as though they   were teetering on her next words.

'Cam,' she said on a release of breath-and the smile that had been   hovering on the corner of his mouth broke free, beaming as bright as   morning sunshine, until all she could do was bask in the glow.

'Yes, Rosie?'

'Actually,' she said, 'I don't so much mind if you call me Rosalind.'

His brow furrowed, and she didn't blame him. She wasn't sure where she   was heading either. Her mind was a blank page, untinged by history or   expectation. All she could do was anchor herself in the warmth of his   hand wrapped around hers and give him as good as he'd given her.                       
       
           



       

She snuck a foot beneath her and faced him. 'I am Rosie. Rosie who camps   out in a van, loves comfortable boots, clothes with a past, and sleeps   when regular sorts are awake and vice versa. But since I met you … '

Her voice caught.

'Since I met you, Rosalind-the girl I was, the version of myself I kept   at bay all these years-came back. That part of me craved affection,   wanted nothing more than to feel special, wanted to know what it was   like to be the centre of someone's attention. Rosalind isn't afraid to   hope.'

His other hand lifted off his thigh. She held a finger near his lips. He   held his breath and stared at it. Though she had no idea what was   coming next, all she could do was let the flood of words carry her til   she found land.

'Since I met you, since I met your friends and your family, I finally   knew what it must be like to have kinship-be a part of a collective   spirit, of something enveloping, warm, vital. Watching you, Meg, Dylan   and Brendan mucking about with your dad's cake, I would have given my   left leg to have been allowed into that inner sanctum for just one more   day. I hope you understand, I had to, have to, walk away. Taking it  away  from me any later would have been too much to ask.'

'Who's asking?' he asked, his voice deep, warm, encouraging.

Then the edge of his mouth kicked up into the whisper of a smile. His   thumb found her palm and began running up and down the centre, sending   goose bumps all around her body, inside and out.

She closed her fingers around his thumb and twisted it away. 'I … I'm not   exactly sure what you're intimating. In all honesty, I'm kind of hazy   about a lot of things right now. I've been up all night. I'm wearing   someone else's pyjamas. I haven't showered.'