Dating the Rebel Tycoon

His silence was enough of an answer. Then he had to go and ask, ‘Do you remember me?’

She thought it best to let her own silence speak for itself on that one.

CHAPTER FOUR

AN HOUR and a half later, with the remains of a shared plate of nachos dripping in sour cream taking the edge off her flashback-phobia, Rosie felt surprisingly serene.

Cameron was a great date—talkative, funny, attentive. And he didn’t flinch when she ordered seconds of the quesadillas. That was during the sporadic moments in which they’d been left alone.

A round of drinks had appeared every half hour on the dot, followed by a rowdy toast from the other side of the restaurant. Just about everyone had come over to pay their respects as though Cameron was some kind of Mafia don. And Tabitha stopped by for a chat every time she went to powder her nose. During those moments Cameron held his beer glass so hard his fingertips were the colour of bruises.

Then, when she had him to herself again, he was a different man. The darkness abated, the clouds cleared and he was entirely present. That was the reason she’d sucked up her pride and entered the dragons’ den.

In the end she was so glad she had. If nothing else came of the night, slaying some dragons of her youth had been a major plus. Even so, she half-wished they had gone somewhere else after all so that she could have had a little more time with that Cameron Kelly.

‘Glad we stayed?’ he asked.

A fast song came on and Rosie had to lean in to hear him properly. Cameron took her cue and leaned in himself. He was close enough that she could see the ridges in his teeth, a small scar on the bridge of his nose and a slight shadow of stubble at his throat. Tiny imperfections that should have made him less attractive only made him more so.

She smiled. ‘You were right about the quesadillas. If they plonked another plate in front of me there is no way I could send them back.’

‘Good. Now, for the real reason I invited you to dinner. When do I get my free horoscope?’

She laughed, and flicked the back of his hand so hard he flinched. With reflexes like a cat, he grabbed her offending hand and held it, ostensibly to keep himself from harm, but when his thumbs began running up and down her palm she wasn’t so sure.

She manoeuvred her hand away, then sat back and crossed her arms, crossed her legs and remonstrated with herself to keep her feet firmly on the ground where they belonged.

‘Pay attention,’ she said. ‘Because I’m not going to tell you this again. I am a scientist, not a fortune teller. I study the luminosity, density, temperature and chemical composition of celestial objects. My speciality is Venus, the one planet you can still see in the sky after sunrise, about a hand span at arm’s length above the western horizon. I am an authority in the field, and if you’re not careful one of these times I might turn missish and decide to get offended.’

Cameron looked deep into her eyes, seemingly deadly serious. ‘So, tell me, are we alone in the universe?’

She threw out her arms and laughed until every part of her felt loose. ‘Are you kidding me?’

‘I’m interested in your expert opinion.’

‘Here it is. In all my years searching the stars, I’ve never knowingly seen anything which I couldn’t explain. But I’d feel way sillier ruling out the idea than flat-out believing we’re alone. The universe is a great, strange and mysterious place.’

He smacked a fist on the table. ‘I knew those UFO stories couldn’t all be fakes.’

She picked up her napkin and threw it at him. He caught it before it landed in his food. And they sat there smiling at one another like a pair of goons.

An hour later Tabitha was back, perched on the corner of the table, prattling on and on about Dylan’s high-school pranks, and Meg’s spate of hopeless boyfriends; Cameron had had enough.

The fabulous distraction that was Rosalind Harper only worked when the life he was trying to forget wasn’t being shoved down his throat quite so regularly. More to the point, he’d spent enough time with a table between them and an audience watching over them. He wanted to get her alone.

As though she’d sensed him watching her, Rosalind glanced at him over her left shoulder, frowned, then licked a stray drop of salsa sauce from the edge of her lip.

He tilted his head towards the front door. Her eyes brightened, she nodded, and he wished he’d done so a hell of a lot sooner.

He clapped his hands loud enough to cut through Tabitha’s verbosity. ‘Tabitha, the lovely Rosalind and I are away.’

Tabitha stood up. ‘Oh, right. You sure? I just never get to see you any more. Meg says it’s because you’re always so busy with work, but—’