Down London Road (On Dublin Street, #2)(18)

Cam.

He stood, leaning his elbows on the black granite countertop and his head was bent over a napkin he appeared to be sketching on. His messy dark blond hair fell carelessly into his eyes. I watched as he brushed it away and I noticed a masculine Indian silver ring on the ring finger of his right hand as it winked under the lights. He looked just the same as the last time I’d seen him – same unkempt sexiness, same aviator watch and leather bracelets. His T-shirt was the only change. He wore the slim-cut white T-shirt with CLUB 39 scrawled across the chest that all the guys had to wear. It was the chest and shoulders, even when hunched over, that seemed much broader than I remembered.

I took another step and the sound of my boot on the floor brought Cam’s head up.

My breath hitched as our eyes collided.

Heat suffused my cheeks at my body’s instant reaction to this man’s attention. I could feel my breasts swell and my lower belly squeeze, and as we continued to stare at each other in intense silence, my mind and body went to war. My body was panting, ‘He’s hot. Can we have him?’ while my mind was screaming, ‘Oh, dear God, what the hell are you thinking?’

Everything had blurred around me – the only thing in sharp focus was Cam and all the places where I wanted to feel his touch.

Malcolm’s face suddenly floated before my eyes and I flinched, breaking whatever bizarre spell we’d fallen under.

I gave Cam a tight smile and strode towards him, my eyes glued in front of me and very deliberately nowhere near him.

Cam had other plans. As I lifted the counter to join him behind the bar, he stepped in front of the doorway to the staff room, blocking my way. I stared at his black engineer boots for a second and then, realizing I must look like a total idiot, I let my gaze travel north. His arms were crossed over his chest as he leaned against the doorframe and I couldn’t work out what his expression meant at all. He was worse than Joss. If Joss didn’t want you to know what she was feeling, she’d slam down this blank mask over her face. It seemed Cam had bought his mask from the same store as Joss.

‘Hullo.’ I waved.

I actually waved.

Oh Jesus, let the floor open up and swallow me.

Cam’s lips twitched. ‘Hi.’

Why was this so awkward? Usually, I could flirt and charm the pants off any man. I’d suddenly reverted to acting like a reticent seven-year-old. ‘So you got the job, then?’ No, Jo, he’s just here for the banter. I rolled my eyes inwardly at myself.

If he had an equally sarcastic thought, he was gracious enough not to verbalize it. ‘I did.’

What was with the one-word answers? My mouth twisted as I remembered his wordy assault on me last time we’d met. ‘You were a lot more loquacious last time we spoke.’

Cam raised an eyebrow. ‘ “Loquacious”? Does someone have a Word of the Day calendar?’

So much for gracious. I tried to ignore the wince of hurt at his teasing remark. But that was hard to do when someone’s teasing felt a lot more like mocking. I glared at him. ‘I do.’ I brushed past him, my elbow hitting him in the arm as I headed into the staff room. ‘Yesterday’s word was “*”.’ As I opened my locker I felt a sense of pride at having stood up for myself with him again. My body still trembled, though. I was not good at confrontation and I didn’t want to have to be. I resented his presence in my life already.

‘Okay, I deserved that.’

I shot a look over my shoulder and saw that he’d followed me into the room. In the brighter light, his cobalt blue eyes glittered at me enigmatically. He was sporting stubble. Did the man ever shave? Damn him. I dropped my gaze and turned away from him.

‘I actually wanted to thank you for giving Su my number.’

I nodded, balancing my bag half in, half out of my locker, pretending to riffle through it for something.

‘She said you recommended me.’

My bag was exceptionally interesting. Receipt for Mr Meikle’s sandwich and soup, chewing gum, tampons, pen, a leaflet a street person had given to me about some band …

‘She said, and I quote, “Jo’s right – you are hot.” ’

I flushed, just barely choking back the groan of embarrassment. I shoved my bag in the locker and slipped my phone into my pocket. Taking a deep breath, I told myself I could do this. I could work with this annoying asswipe. I spun around and almost lost my footing at the playful grin on his face. It was quite possibly the ‘nicest’ look I’d received from him yet.

I hated him then.

Not once in my life had I ever been physically attracted to a guy who was so utterly horrible to me. I knew, though, that once I spent more time with him, his bad attitude would shave the attraction down to nothing. It was just a matter of patience. For now, I threw back my shoulders, inserting a little flirtation into my smile as I passed him. ‘I said “pretty hot”.’

‘There’s a difference?’ he asked, following me into the bar.

It occurred to me that it was Tuesday night. A slow night. That meant it would be just the two of us working together.

Great.

‘ “Pretty hot” is a few levels lower on the scale than “hot”.’ I didn’t look at him as I tied the tiny apron around my waist, but I could feel his gaze warm on my face.

‘Well, whatever you said, I appreciate it.’