the cutting room floor :: the working title
Cameron said, You’re in a profession which must be lousy with men. How is it you haven’t succumbed to sweet nothings whispered in the dark by some guy with a clipboard and a brain the size of the Outback?’
‘Lousy is the operative word,’ Rosie admitted.
‘Mmm. It can’t help that your colleagues all have Star Trek emblems secreted about their persons.’
‘Oh ho! Hang on a second. I might be allowed to diss my fellow physicists, but that doesn’t mean you can.’
‘Is that what I just did?’
‘Yes! You just intimated all astronomers are geeks.’
‘Aren’t they?’ he said without even a pause.
She sat up straight and held a hand to her heart to find it beating harder than normal, harder than it even had when she was a green teen. It had more than a little to do with the unflinching, alpha male thing he’d found within himself in the intervening years. It spoke straight to the stubborn independence she’d unearthed inside herself.
‘You realise you are also insinuating that I am a geek?’ she said.
This time there was a pause. But then he came back with, ‘Yes. You are a geek.’
Her mouth dropped open then slammed back shut. Mostly because the tone of his voice suggested it didn’t seem to be the slightest problem for him that she might be a geek.
‘Rosalind,’ he said in a way that made her want to flip her hair and lick her lips and breathe out hard.
‘Yes?’ she sighed before she could stop herself.
His next pause felt weightier. She cursed herself beneath her breath and gripped the teeny tiny phone so tight her knuckles hurt.
‘I realise its last minute, but I was wondering if you had plans for dinner.’
Labels: Dating the Rebel Tycoon, harlequin romance
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