his eyes.
It took a second or two before she realised he had stretched out a hand for shaking. She placed her hand in his. Warmth met cool. Soft skin met skin weathered by manual labour.
Her eyes flickered back to his. Manual labour? She searched his eyes for something to answer the unspoken question, but no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t see even a millimetre beneath the blue. Because he didn’t want her to, or because he didn’t want anyone to?
Cameron Kelly, clean-cut and preppy, had been yummy. Cameron Kelly with hidden qualities was a force to be reckoned with.
‘Rosalind,’ Adele called out, leaning her backside against a chair before noisily biting down on an apple. ‘The lady’s name is Rosalind. Like the eighth moon of Uranus.’
‘Like the character from As You Like It,’ Rosie corrected. ‘The eighth moon of Uranus wasn’t discovered until 1986.’
‘Either way, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Rosalind,’ Cameron said, somehow making the antiquated name she’d only ever thought of as just another hurdle sound almost wistful, pretty, romantic. She found herself correcting her posture to match.
Then she realised that, even with her name attached, there was still not a glimmer of recognition in the cool depths of his gaze.
She quickly deflated back into her normal, regular, perfectly content self. She did not need any man to notice her in order to feel interesting—and she couldn’t believe she was really having to remind herself of that.
Then Cameron said, ‘I realise this sounds incredibly corny, but have we met?’
‘Smooth,’ Adele muttered from the sidelines.
Rosie shot her so-called friend a frosty glare, but Adele only pointed at her watch, meaning they were about to open to the public.
Knowing that to pretend she had no idea what he was on about would only make her feel even more foolish, Rosie said, ‘We have. I’m Rosie Harper. I was below you at St Grellans. I took advanced maths with Dr Blackman the same time as you.’
The fact that she’d spent more time imagining what it might be like to kiss him than taking actual notes had led to a B-that had threatened her full academic scholarship.
It had been a watershed moment; proving she’d inherited her mother’s propensity to fall hard, and indiscriminately, and with no thought of self-protection.
She now protected herself so vigorously, even the common cold had a hard time getting near.
‘Small world,’ Cameron finally said, almost hiding the fact that he still couldn’t place her behind the charming, crinkle-eyed, dimpled smile that had likely got him out of trouble his whole life.
His hand moulded ever so slightly more snugly around hers. She’d forgotten they were still holding hands, while he held on with a purpose she was only now just beginning to fathom.
His smile warmed, deepened, drew her in, as he said, ‘In the interests of remaining corny, what do you say we—?’
The door behind him slammed open before he got out another word, and a harried-looking woman burst inside.
Rosie sprang away from Cameron as though they’d been two teenagers caught in flagrante. She ran the hand he’d been holding across the back of her hot neck, only to find the hand was hotter still.
The anxious woman said, ‘Sorry to intrude. I’m Miss Granger, Kenmore South grade-four class teacher. Please tell me I can send the kids in? Another minute in the open and they’ll be beyond my control.’
The teacher somehow managed to smile through her stress. Probably because she directed her comments entirely towards Cameron, who did look more in charge in his blazer and tie than Rosie did in her vintage get-up—and that was putting a nice spin on it.
Or maybe it was that indefinable X-factor that meant every woman he ever encountered ended up inexorably spinning in his orbit. Rosie, it seemed, was destined to be within perilously close proximity to this particular heavenly body once every fifteen or so years.
Fifteen years earlier he’d been a beautiful boy who’d brushed shoulders with her once or twice in a crowd. This time round he was a fully grown man who saw something in her that made him rethink moving on just yet. She’d hate to think what another fifteen years might do to the man’s potency. Or aim.
She glanced up after a good few seconds staring at his shoulders to find him watching her. Unblinking. Radiating authority and curiosity.
Break eye contact, her inner voice said; back away, roll into the foetal position, whatever it takes to make him head back to his side of the street leaving you to yours.
‘Pretty please?’ the teacher asked Cameron.
Rosie had a feeling the woman was asking a completely different question from her first.
Before Rosie had the chance to tell Miss Granger she was barking up the wrong man, Adele called out, ‘Send ’em on in, hon! Who are we to turn away those ready and raring to learn about the mysteries of the universe?’
‘Who indeed?’ Cameron asked.
Rosie steadfastly ignored him and his rumbling voice as Miss Granger heaved the heavy side-door open again, letting in wisps of cool late-winter air and a throng of kids in green tartan school uniforms, half-mast beige socks and floppy wide-brimmed hats.
They slid into the arena like water spurting through a bottle neck. But at the first sign of a break Cameron slipped through until he stood beside Rosie, well and truly within her personal space.
She kept her eyes dead ahead, but couldn’t ignore the tug of his gravitational pull, the scent of new cotton, winter, and clean male skin. She breathed in deep through her nose, then pinched the soft part of her hand between her thumb and her index finger in punishment.
‘Any feet seen touching any chairs will be forcibly removed!’ Adele said as she was carried away with the noisy crowd.
And all too soon it was just the two of them again. Alone, in the unforgiving fluorescent light that couldn’t seem to find one bad angle on him.
‘It seems you really do have to get to work,’ Cameron said, a hint of something that sounded a heck of a lot like the dashing of hope tinging his words.
Rosie’s heart twitched, and kept on twitching. She coughed hard, and it found its regular steady pattern once more.
‘No rest for the wicked,’ she said, turning to him, thus allowing herself one last look before she brought this strange encounter to a halt.
Looking was allowed. Looking at pretty, bright, hot things was her job. And as it was much safer doing so from a great distance she began backing away, thus setting in motion the next fifteen years until they crossed paths again.
‘It was great seeing you again, Rosalind.’ A glint lit eyes that she was entirely sure had been that exact cornflower-blue from the moment he’d been born.
A jaunty salute and she was gone, hitting the top step at a jog and not stopping until she reached the control room at the bottom, as from there she couldn’t tell
