Down London Road (On Dublin Street, #2)(79)

His lips twitched now, the anger easing from his expression.

‘It’s not funny!’ I stomped my foot like a petulant child.

With a grunt, Cam answered by hauling me off the stairs and into his arms. I automatically wrapped my arms around him and buried my burning face in his neck.

‘No more talk about needing space?’ he asked hoarsely, his warm breath on my ear.

I nodded in agreement and his arms tightened.

‘Why did you quit?’

I pulled back and he eased me to my feet, although he didn’t let go of me. Now that I was this close to him I didn’t want to let go either.

Jesus, I was such a mess.

‘He found out I dumped Malcolm and he said some horrible things to me.’

Cam’s face clouded over. ‘What horrible things?’

I shrugged. ‘Basically he said I was stupid for dumping a rich man when that was about as good as my life would get.’

‘I’m going to kill him. First, you’re going to report him for misconduct, and then I’m going to kill him.’

‘I don’t want anything else to do with him.’

‘Jo, he crossed a line.’

‘Yeah, he did. But I don’t have the luxury of time to go through the rigmarole of seeing him brought to some kind of meagre justice. I have to find a job.’

‘Braden.’

‘Nope.’ I pinched my lips together.

Cam shook his head. ‘You are so bloody stubborn.’ And then he kissed my pinched mouth open, his lips light at first and then pressing harder, drawing me deeper into his demand for more.

When he finally let me up for breath, his expression was almost pained. ‘Don’t do that to me again, okay?’

Feeling ashamed of my behaviour, and vowing to be absolutely sure about a decision before throwing something as important as a break-up Cam’s way, I pressed another kiss to his lips, my hands cupping his bristly cheeks tenderly, hoping he understood more in that kiss than I was willing to say. ‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered.

‘You’re forgiven.’ He squeezed my waist.

Smoothing my hands down his new T-shirt, I puckered my brows in thought. ‘Why are you dressed up? And what did you mean “not to mention what I’ve just done today”?’

‘Ah.’ Cam pushed me back a little. ‘There’s someone here to see you.’





21


You would think that after witnessing my crazy emotional drama Cam would have been considerate enough to prepare me for who was in his flat waiting for me.

But no.

He wanted it to be a surprise.

Feeling a little nervous about whatever unknown thing awaited me, I followed him into his sitting room.

My eyes immediately were drawn to a young woman rising from Cam’s couch. Shorter than me but taller than Joss, she stood there, all curves and ass and amazing hair. For some reason, my immediate thought was that this was Blair. I stared into exceptionally light hazel eyes, so light they were almost gold, and felt my throat close up. Some might say the woman was slightly overweight, but all I processed was the big boobs and curvy ass, which looked good on her. Her jet-black hair cascaded down her back in an amazing riot of soft waves. Thinking this woman was Blair, and hating her on sight, I didn’t realize for a while that the rest of her features were kind of plain. Her hair, eyes and figure gave the impression of extraordinary.

Then she smiled.

She had a knee-knockingly great smile. ‘Jo?’

And an American accent.

Uh … what?

‘Johanna?’

The gruff voice drew my gaze to the left, and my eyes widened at the sight of the large man standing next to Cam’s fireplace. The weight of his light hazel eyes on me made me stagger back in shock. I’d been so consumed with jealousy, thinking the woman was Blair, that it hadn’t even registered how familiar those exotic eyes were.

‘Uncle Mick?’ I breathed in shock, my eyes running the length of him.

He looked older now, grey peppering his dark hair and beard, but it was him. A tower of a man, standing at six and a half feet tall with huge shoulders, he still looked as fit and healthy as he had eleven years ago. Everyone had always said Uncle Mick was built like a brick shithouse. He still was.

What was he doing here?

‘Jo.’ He shook his head, giving me a grin that made me feel homesick. ‘I always knew you’d be a knockout, lass, but just look at you.’ His accent threw me for a moment, the sharp, abrupt inflection of Scots softened slightly in certain words by an American drawl. His accent was Joss’s in reverse.

Still dumbstruck, I could only say his name again. ‘Uncle Mick?’ I glanced back at Cam, my mouth open in wonder, my heart in my throat. ‘What is going on?’

Cam stepped forward and took my hand in reassurance. ‘You told me Mick’s surname, that he’d moved to Arizona, and you showed me old photographs. Mick has a Facebook account, and I tracked him down on there.’

Facebook? I looked back at Mick incredulously, still not believing he was here. Everything that had been good about my life as a child was standing in front of me and I didn’t know whether I wanted to run facefirst into his chest or turn on my heel and flee.

‘Cam and I got to talking and he told me how difficult things have been for you, darling. I’m so sorry.’ Mick’s voice was low, as though he were talking to a frightened animal. ‘I’m so sorry I wasn’t here.’