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Images of lips and backs against walls and hot hands rushed in on him so fast one would think he’d been a monk these last thirty-two years.
‘Relax,’ Cameron said, so close to Rosie’s ear her lobe got goose bumps. ‘They won’t bite. Though, just in case, I hope you’ve had your shots.’
She tried to put some air between them, but the crowd kept jostling her back to his side. ‘I don’t know if you’re trying to be funny, as I don’t know any of them. I barely even know you.’
Her arm dragged behind her as he came to a halt. She let go of his hand and turned to see why.
He was rooted to the spot among the surging crowd, a half-head taller than everyone else, broader of shoulder, and more likely to make a woman tremble with one look than anyone else she’d ever met.
Talk about being remarkable without any effort whatsoever. Maybe once this unnerving-yet-irresistible night was finally over she would have learnt a thing or two about genuine cool.
He slid his hands into his trouser pockets and asked, ‘What would you like to know?’
‘The highlights so far will do fine.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘The name’s Cameron Quinn Kelly. Star sign, Aries. Six-feet-two inches tall, weight unknown. I like test cricket more than many consider natural, and can spend hours in hardware superstores without spending a cent and never consider it time wasted. I buy far too many useless things on eBay, because once I’m committed to an auction I can’t stand to lose. I’m slightly reluctant to admit my favourite holiday destination is Las Vegas, and I have no shame in saying I have cried during Dead Poets Society.’
Rosie took a deep breath. Was it really possible to like a guy that much more after such a simple snapshot? ‘You forgot your favourite colour.’
‘Blue.’
She didn’t doubt it. At some stage that day he’d lost the vest and tie, and the blue shirt hugging his chest was a perfect match for his eyes. It looked so good on him she was finding it hard to remember what else he’d said.
‘Enough?’ he asked.
She swallowed hard, then quipped, ‘That was more than I know about my mailman, and I give him beer at Christmas.’
He bowed ever so slightly. ‘Now, before I let you loose upon my friends, maybe I should know more about you too.’
Fighting the urge to cross her arms, she grabbed hold of both lengths of her long scarf as she said, ‘Rosalind Merryweather Harper. Star sign, Taurus. I’m about five-eight. Weight, none of your business.’
His eyes dropped, lightly touching her breasts, her hips and her calves, before sliding neatly back to her eyes. Her pause was noted, and his cheek curved into the kind of smile that made a girl think of fresh sheets, low lighting and coffee in the morning.
Unnerving yet irresistible. Yep, that summed him up perfectly.
‘Merryweather?’ he asked.
She grinned. ‘It’s rude to interrupt. Now, where was I? I’ve been to Nevada twice, yet never seen Vegas. With all those lights it has to be one of the more difficult places on earth to see stars. My guilty pleasure is Elvis Presley movies, and I was born with seven toes on each foot.’
Cameron’s smile wavered. Twitched. Stumbled. His eyes slid to her shoes.
Until she said, ‘Gotcha.’
His eyes took their time meandering up her body before they returned to hers.
‘Satisfied?’ he asked, his voice deeper than the bass notes thumping through the bar.
‘Getting there,’ she breathed.
The shift of the crowd threw them together. The slide of his cotton shirt against her velvet jacket acted like a flint shooting sparks between them.
She pressed both hands against his chest. ‘I’m almost certain somebody promised me dinner.’
He smiled. ‘I’m almost certain you’re right.’
Then for a moment, the briefest snap in time, she thought she caught a glimpse of the man behind the dark-blue fortress, and saw strengths, knowledge, experience, and hunger far deeper than she’d even imagined. Her fingers curled into his shirt as once again she felt like she was in some kind of free fall.
She didn’t like the feeling one little bit.
She slapped him hard on the chest, twice, then with a thin-lipped smile turned away and slid through the crowd.
And then the St Grellans table loomed before her. She recognised a couple of faces—a school captain, a drama queen, the daughter of an ex–Prime Minister. Bless their hearts.
Rosie felt Cameron slide in behind her. ‘Do you think for some of them school really was the time of their lives?’
‘Was it the time of yours?’
Rosie scoffed so loudly she practically snorted. ‘You reeeally don’t remember me from back then, do you?’
