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There’s no harm in a little flirting, right? As long as he doesn’t cross any lines he can’t come back from. They can be the kind of friends who flirt but never take it further.
The bartender sets their drinks down and the moment breaks.
Cameron shakes his head and grabs his wine, following Jules toward one of the booths. The swish of her hair across her back looks like temptation and the alcohol isn’t going to help his brain win the war against his body tonight. Which he wants it to. Doesn’t he? It’s hard to be sure when they edge around a group of people and Cameron’s hand is suddenly resting on Jules’s lower back. It’s like he’s magnetised to her skin. His awareness narrows down to that point of contact, feeling her body warm beneath her dress.
Before they’ve made it to the booth, someone calls out his name.
‘Cam? Oi, Cameron!’
Cameron turns slowly, hand dropping off Jules.
‘Should we ignore them?’ Jules leans close to him, her body pressing against his arm.
Cameron’s chest heats—Jules is trying to protect him—but as soon as he spots the olive-skinned fridge of a man clearing the floor toward him, he smiles down at her. ‘We’re good.’
‘Cameron!’
‘Matteo.’ Cameron accepts the extended hand and bone-shuddering back slap, careful to keep his drink out of harm’s way. ‘It’s been too long.’
‘Mate, I was just about to say that.’ Matteo pulls back, grinning with shining white teeth. ‘How long have you been in Canberra. One year? And the past few months, you’ve become a ghost. No phone call, text, DM, hand-written letter expressing how much you miss your best friend in the world.’
‘Okay, let’s not get carried away.’
Matteo laughs, dropping his hands from Cameron and turning to Jules.
‘My apologies, bella. The rush of reconnection was too strong. Worked with this one for years at Cable before he jumped ship.’ He holds his hand out and Jules takes it. ‘I’m Matteo. Buongionro.’
‘Ciao, Matteo. Mi chiamo Julianne.’
‘Parli la mia lingua nattiva?’
‘Sì. La mia coinquilina è italiana, del Nord Italia.’
‘Perdonerò la tua associazione con un nordico a causa della tua bellezza.’
Cameron loses the conversation quickly, not speaking Italian, which leaves him free to notice how Jules’s hand is still in Matteo’s grip. She’s not making any move to free it.
Whatever Matteo says next makes Jules blink rapidly and a flush spreads over her cheeks. His stomach lurches. Shit. She told him she was looking for a conference fling. Is he watching the start of it right before his eyes?
So what if he is? Jules is a no-go for him. They work together. And he can’t fault her choice. Matteo’s striking and a decent man—even if the idea of them together turns his stomach.
It just rubs him wrong. He’s here fighting off feelings, ignoring matchmaking texts from his sisters, holding back from connecting with Jules the way he wants, and meanwhile, Matteo is swooping in with his affable, put-you-at-ease-so-you-don’t-notice-I’m-coming-onto-you way he has.
Something hot rises like a geyser and Cameron moves to press his arm against Jules’s. Matteo’s gaze drops to the point of contact and he raises an eyebrow at Cameron.
‘Okay then,’ Matteo says, finally dropping Jules’s hand. ‘It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Julianne. I’m sure we’ll see each other around. And you.’ He spins to Cameron and claps him on the shoulder. ‘We need to catch up, okay?’
Cameron would put money on Jules being a conversation topic. He’d damn his baser instincts for making him react so strongly, but it made Matteo back off.
‘My number is still the same,’ Matteo says. ‘Text me. Or I will send you pictures of ugly cats every hour until you do.’
‘I’ll text,’ Cameron agrees, accepting another hard slap on the arm. He’s missed the guy and his affable charm and his obsession with British television. His stomach turns because the months with no communication is all on him. He left Sydney and let his connections fall to the wayside. It’ll be nice to connect with Matteo again – just not when Jules is next to him pulling his focus like a flower bending toward the sun.
‘Bye, bellissima. Bello.’ Matteo disappears into the crowd as much as a 6-foot-3 man can.
Cameron watches him rejoin a group of people on the other side of the bar. He recognises them all. The Cable staff are here. Apinya, Fen, Wade, Munir, Rose. And Braden.
He turns his back before any of them look his way.
