Dating the Rebel Tycoon

‘Yep,’ he said. ‘Quite sure. Our after-dinner plans are set in stone. We have to leave immediately.’

Rosalind, trouper that she was, grinned and nodded through his fibs.

Tabitha backed up with a wave. ‘Okay, then. Cam, maybe I’ll see you at your dad’s party on the weekend if you can drag yourself away from work. Rosalind, it was a pleasure. I’ll say hi to Meg for you. Both of you.’

Rosalind gave her a wave back, then when she was gone slumped her forehead to the table, arms dangling over the edge from the elbows down. Cameron laughed as he caught the attention of a passing waitress and mimed the need for the bill.

‘And why didn’t we go somewhere else to eat?’ she asked from her face-down position.

‘The quesadillas.’

She clicked her fingers and lifted her head. ‘Right. And you have to admit there was nary a projectile potato-wedge in sight.’

‘The place should advertise as much.’

She grinned, her eyes sparkling, that wide, sensual mouth drawing his eyes like a lighthouse on a stormy night. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her as much when the bill arrived.

Saved by the waiter, Cameron took out his wallet, which was closely followed by Rosalind’s. He stilled her hand with his. ‘Put that away.’

She slid her hand free and hastened to flick through compartments, searching for cash. ‘I’ve got it covered.’

‘Rosalind, stop fidgeting and look at me.’

She did as she was told, but it was obvious she was not at all happy about it. And again he got a glimpse of how stubborn she could be.

‘I invited you out tonight, so it’s my treat. Let me play the gentleman,’ he insisted. ‘It’s not all that often I get the chance. Please.’

It was the ‘please’ that got to her. Her flinty-grey eyes turned to soft molten-silver and finally she let go of the death grip on her wallet. ‘Fine; that would be lovely. Thanks.’

He threw cash on the table. As she eyed the pile, she brightened. ‘But you have to let me look after the tip.’

‘Too late; I’ve already added fifteen percent.’

‘Why not twenty?’

‘Fifteen’s customary.’

‘Tips shouldn’t be just customary. They can make the difference between the underpaid kitchen staff, out there right now washing our dirty dishes, paying rent this week or not.’

Cameron blinked. Forthright, stubborn, and opinionated. He tried to reconcile that with the playful, uninhibited girl he’d thought he’d picked up at the planetarium, and found he could not.

What did it matter? Whatever she was, it was working for him.

He said, ‘So the tip comes to…?’

‘Fourteen-ninety,’ Rosalind said a split second before he did. She threw another twenty dollars on the table before he had the chance to try, and glanced at him with a half smile. ‘Beat ya.’

‘Geek,’ he said, low enough only she could hear.

As she put her wallet away she grinned, then leaned in towards him. ‘Let’s blow this joint before Tabitha comes back.’

‘Excellent plan.’

Cameron stuck close as he herded Rosalind back through the crowd, partly to protect her from the flailing arms of dancers and chatters alike, but mostly because being close to her felt so damn good.

‘So, what now?’ she asked.

He moved closer until he was deep inside her personal space. ‘Lady’s choice.’

She licked her bottom lip, the move so subtle he almost missed it. ‘Okay. But dessert is most definitely on me.’

She turned and practically bounced ahead of him.

The image of her wearing nothing but strategically placed curls of chocolate was distracting in a way he might never get over.

Cameron waved a hand towards a large, red plastic toadstool in the universal courtyard outside the Bacio Bacio gelataria on South Bank.

Rosalind sat upon it, knees pressed together, ankles shoulder-width apart, sucking cinnamon-and-hazelnut flavoured gelato off her upside-down spoon.

He had straight vanilla. He’d been craving it all day.

As the rich taste melted on his tongue, he let out a deep breath through his nose and stared across the river at his city. His eyes roved over the three skyscrapers he’d built, the two others he now owned, and through the gaps which would soon be filled with more incomparable monoliths he had in the planning.

‘Some view, don’t you think?’ he said, his voice rough with pride.

Rosalind squinted up at the sky and frowned.

Cameron said, ‘Try ninety-degrees down.’

‘Oh.’ Her chin tilted and her nose screwed up as she watched the red and white lights of a hundred cars ease quietly across the Riverside Expressway. ‘What am I missing?’