Part 14 (1/2)

He pulled away, blinked up at the white crescent high in the sky and said, 'I also came here because I don't like leaving a conversation unfinished.'

He felt Rosalind cross her arms beside him. 'Oh, I think we both had ample opportunity to say what we wanted to say.'

'Can I ask...if I hadn't kissed you...?'

She s.h.i.+vered, and this time he knew it wasn't the cold. He wanted to wrap her up in his jacket, but he knew she wasn't near ready for that. Not yet.

'What do you want from me, Cameron?'

'Truth?'

'Always.'

'I didn't like watching you walk away tonight.'

She said nothing. The conversation it seemed would be all up to him.

'I've been having a great time being with you. I get a kick out of your frankness. You must have noticed that I have huge trouble keeping my hands off you. And none of that has changed. All I've ever hoped is that we might continue to enjoy one another's company for as long as it's enjoyable. And not a minute longer.'

He felt her breathe in. Breathe out. 'And who gets to decide when that minute's up?'

'You can, if it needs to be that way.'

'And if I think that minute has already pa.s.sed?'

'Do you?'

He looked down to find she was no longer staring at the moon; she was watching him, her eyes wary, calculating, her mind changing back and forth with every pa.s.sing second.

'I don't want to hurt you,' he said.

Her chin lifted. 'I don't plan on getting hurt.'

She was talking in the present tense. And, though she wasn't smiling at him, neither was she scowling. He'd done enough. Relief poured through him, its intensity rather more than he would have expected.

'Aren't you cold?' she asked.

And he realised he was s.h.i.+vering. She might have been rugged up like she was about to spend a week on Everest but he was still in his jeans, T-s.h.i.+rt and track top.

'I'm absolutely freezing,' he said. Now he'd noticed it, he really noticed it. He rubbed his hands down his arms and stamped his sneaker-clad feet before they turned to ice.

'You have to make the most of your body heat.'

He stopped jumping about like a frog and asked, 'My body heat?' body heat?'

'One's body heat,' she reworded. body heat,' she reworded.

'I was going to say, that was a line I hadn't heard before.'

'Hey, buddy, I have no agenda here. I was out here minding my own business. You came looking for me.'

Still no smile, but the bite was back. Attraction poured through him like it had been simply waiting to split the dam behind which he'd held it in check.

'I did, didn't I?'

She stared at him, the wheels behind her eyes whirring madly. Finally she demanded, 'Get inside the tent, unzip the sleeping bag, and wrap it around you. It's thermal. You'll be toasty in a matter of minutes.'

'Who knew you had such a Florence Nightingale side to you?'

'You're too heavy for me to carry you back to your car if you freeze to death,' she muttered, then gave him a little shove.

From outside the tent Rosie watched as Cameron's head hit the roof as he snuck inside.

He'd come looking for her. In the middle of the night, along unmarked roads and through wet, th.o.r.n.y bushland, he'd come. That was an entirely new experience. Men had left before but none had ever come back. Not one.

She hadn't had any past experiences from which to extrapolate the right course to take. All she'd been able to do was follow her instincts. They'd gently urged her to let him back in. To understand that his dad's betrayal ran deep and that had caused his panic. And that, now that the boat had righted itself, things would be as they were.

She didn't have time to decide if she'd been cool and sophisticated or simply stupid, as right then his elbow slid along the right wall of the tent, making an unhappy squeaking sound against the synthetic fabric. The next loud 'Oomph,' meant she had to go in after him in case he managed to break any equipment worth as much as her caravan.

He turned and saw her there.

Moonlight glowed through the tight mesh, creating glints in his eyes. Though she soon realised the glints would have been there even if they'd been in pitch blackness.

The pom-poms on top of her beanie brushed the ceiling, while he had to bend so as not to stick his head through the top. She glanced up, saw his hair catching and creating static, went to tell him so, but he reached out to her, grabbed a hunk of her cardigan and pulled her to him. Her breath shot from her lungs in a sharp whoosh as her chest thumped against his.

She desperately clambered for her instincts, hoping they might come to her rescue again, but they were as immobilised as she was.

He dropped to his knees and she came with him. They were nose to nose, the intermingling of warm breath making her cheeks hot. Her heart thundered in her ears. She felt lightheaded. Little tornados curled about her insides.

And she knew, as well as she knew her own name, that she'd done the right thing. Their minute wasn't up.

He snuck a hand along her neck, his thumb stroking the soft spot just behind her ear. Her whole body responded, opening to him like a flower to the sun. She immediately contracted in fear at exposure of how much she wanted this. Wanted him. Was willing to tell herself whatever she needed to hear to have him.

But then he leaned in and kissed her. Gently. Slowly. And all the last bits of her that hadn't melted finally did so. She sank into him and kissed him back.

Sensation so astronomical overwhelmed her until she could only pick out pieces to focus upon lest she drown in the delectable whole.

The subtle strength of his hand cupped the back of her head. His breath tickled the column of her neck before he rained kisses over every inch of her throat. Her cardigan tie slithered across her back as he undid it.

She came to from far, far away when suddenly it all came to a cruel halt.

She opened her eyes to find him staring at her chest. Her chest wasn't all that impressive without a lot of help.

'What on earth are you wearing?' he asked.

She looked down to find his fingers enclosed over a fat, furry, pig-shaped b.u.t.ton on her pink flannelette pyjama-top.

She slapped a hand across her eyes. 'My pyjamas. Oh G.o.d, I was cold, I was lazy. I was feeling sorry for myself.'