Dating the Rebel Tycoon

‘Mmm. I didn’t think so.’

She laughed through her nose. ‘Thank goodness, then; neither of us is perfect.’

Cameron had to laugh right along with her. It was the best tension-release there was. The best one could indulge in in public, anyway.

Rosie gripped her spoon with her teeth and said, ‘Speaking of not being perfect…’

Cameron gave in, stuffed his napkin into his half-finished tub and tossed it in the bin, the makeshift-sweet bite of vanilla no longer cutting it when he had the real thing right in front of him.

She watched the cup with wide eyes. ‘What on earth did you do that for?’

‘Because I get the feeling I’ll need both hands to defend myself against whatever’s coming next.’

She held a hand over her mouth as she laughed to hold in the melted gelato.

‘Come on,’ he said, beckoning her by curling his fingers into his upturned palms. ‘Get it off your chest now while I’m still in a state of semi-shock.’

She lifted her bottom to tuck her foot beneath, her body curling and shifting, the fabric of her T-shirt pulling tight across her lean curves. ‘Okay. Sharing family stories shouldn’t be like flint to dry leaves; it should be in the normal range of conversation on a date.’

He pulled his gaze back up to her face and reminded himself she was no intellectual small-fry. ‘I like to think a normal range includes favourite movies, a bit about work and a few double entendres to keep it interesting.’

Her wide mouth twitched. ‘I get that. But people are more than the movies they’ve seen. We’re all flawed. Frail, even. We make mistakes. We do the best we can under the circumstances we’ve been given. So why not just put the truth out there? I admit I have no dress sense. My dad was never around. My mum was unfit to be a parent. I can’t cook. Your turn.’

He broke eye contact, looked across the river and anchored himself in the integrity of concrete and steel, of precise engineering and beautiful absolutes. Everything else he’d once thought true had turned out to be as real as the monsters under his bed. ‘You want my confession?’

‘No. Yes. Maybe. It sure as hell might make sitting here with you a lot less intimidating if I knew you actually had something to confess.’

He turned back to her, monsters abating as she took precedence again. ‘You find me intimidating?’

She raised an eyebrow. ‘No. You’re a walk in the park. Now, stop changing the subject. I’ve had the highlights, now give me the untold story before I start feeling like a total fool for thinking you might be man enough to hack a little cold, hard truth.’

God, she was good. She had his testosterone fighting his reason, and no prizes for guessing which was coming out on top.

He kicked his legs out straight ahead to slide his hands into the pockets of his jeans. The moonlight reflected off the water, making the glass buildings on the other side of the river shimmer and blur, until he couldn’t remember what they were meant to signify any more.

All he knew was that when his car swung into the botanical gardens that morning he’d been on a search for the truth. And he’d found her.

Maybe he’d regret it, maybe it was the wrong thing to do, but, with his mind filled with that siren voice calling for him to give himself a break, to admit his flaws, to confess…the words just tumbled out.

‘What would you say if I told you that I have spent my day certain that my father is gravely ill, and that I’ve kept it to myself?’

CHAPTER FIVE

THE second the words came out of his mouth Cameron wished he could shove them back in again. Rosalind was meant to be distracting him from worrying about the bastard, not inducing him to tell all.

‘That the kind of thing you were after?’ he asked.

‘I was kind of hoping you might admit to singing in the shower,’ she said with a gentle smile. But her voice was husky, warm, affected. It snuck beneath his defences and spoke to places inside him he’d rather she left alone.

‘Tell me about your dad,’ she said.

He ran a quick hand up the back of his hair and cleared his throat. ‘Actually, I’d prefer we talk about something else. You a footy fan?’

‘Not so much.’

He clamped his teeth together, betting that his stubborn streak was wider than hers. She leaned forward and sat still until he couldn’t help but make eye contact. The beguiling depths told him she’d give him a run for his money.

‘Look, Cameron, I don’t always have my head in the stars. I do know who you are. I get that it might be difficult to know who you can trust when everybody wants to know your business. But you can trust me. Nothing you say here will go any further. I promise.’