Caitlin's Hero

by Donna Gallagher

  When Brodie’s eyes had adjusted to the lights in the restaurant, he was relieved to see his first question was unfounded. The place was filled with people sitting quietly, listening to the voice apparently coming from the dark stage area he now spotted at the back of the room.

  Brodie’s attention was immediately taken up by Angelo, the restaurant’s owner, who was checking to see if it was okay to start serving. He explained he had been waiting on Brodie’s arrival. Letting the man know that this was acceptable, Brodie also explained tonight’s schedule again to the nervous owner. He’d wait till between the entrée and the main course to make his welcome address, and between the main and the dessert he would auction off the various donations and memorabilia pieces he had gathered.

  Brodie never quite made it all the way to his table, just left of the stage—he was stopped by nearly every guest. A handshake here, a kiss there… It was quite the job, being the host. It actually got to the point that he thought his welcome speech would be redundant. Was there anyone left in the room he hadn’t personally welcomed? Still, as empty plates were being whisked away by efficient wait staff, Brodie made his way to the stage, stepping onto it from the front. The music had stopped, clueing him in that he was up.

  As the stage light blinked on, Brodie noticed an older, plump man sitting at the piano. Maybe the voice had been a recording, he mused as he took the microphone from its stand. It was already on and ready for him to begin his spiel.

  He delivered the usual welcome, thanking everyone for their generosity, and gave an explanation as to what was being auctioned, why and for whom. This brought rounds of applause from the dinner crowd. Brodie was comfortable with public speaking—since he was the captain, it was usually up to him to do interviews or make comments after a game. One of the hardest things to do was to talk to a reporter seconds after the final siren sounded, especially after a loss. He had done his fair share of this sort of function before, so speaking to this crowd of familiar faces was no problem. Soon he was ready to finally take his seat, but before he could, the door to the restaurant burst open. With the lights shining in his face Brodie couldn’t quite see who the late arrivals were, but he knew, just by the commotion, that Lila had arrived.

  * * * *

  Caitlin had forgotten to grab a glass of water before starting her first set—she left Roberto to finish a piano solo and slipped out to the kitchen. As she took a swallow of water, she heard the male voice welcoming everyone to the night. Caitlin got a fluttery feeling. Did she know that voice? Was it the same sexy voice from Monday? Shaking her head, she tried to clear her mind.

  “Honestly, I’m really losing it,” she whispered. “What on earth would Brodie James be doing here at Mia’s, using my microphone?” She laughed at what she dismissed as her own silly imagination. Clutching the glass of water, she headed back to the main room, careful not to get in the way of the busy staff heading out to serve steaming hot plates of home-made pasta.

  Angelo was standing in front of the side entrance to the stage, smiling broadly.

  “Perfecto!” her boss said, his Italian accent strong as he pinched his fingers together and touched his lips, making a kissing sound. “You sing like an angel, bella, as always.” Caitlin could not help the warmth that stole over her cheeks from Angelo’s compliment.

  He was waiting to introduce her to the organiser of the event, the man on stage, Angelo explained, and as Caitlin looked around him to get a better view of who her boss was talking about, her heart skipped a beat. She blinked, looked again. She could not believe it. Brodie James was on her stage. It was all Caitlin could do not to drop the water she was holding. She clenched the glass tighter.

  How on earth was she going to sing again, knowing he was watching her? She started to feel all hot. Perspiration beads dotted her forehead.

  Who am I kidding? He probably won’t even remember me anyway. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to freshen up a little. Caitlin excused herself from Angelo quickly, mumbling about visiting the ladies’ room, having drunk too much water. She held out the glass for him to take from her still-shaking hand, noticed the look of concern on his face, but couldn’t stay and explain to Angelo why she was acting so erratically. Then she turned and fled once again, away from this man who caused her body and mind to react in such unfamiliar ways.

  She couldn’t stay hidden in the ladies’ all night, though. As Caitlin started heading back to the stage, she watched Brodie step off it. He was just a couple of feet away from her. He hurried towards the front door. Looking in that direction, she understood why. In the doorway stood the most attractive, sexy, tall blonde woman Caitlin had ever seen. She appeared as if she had stepped straight from a catwalk or centrefold. Her clothes seemed almost explicit because of how little flesh they actually covered.

  Reality cut deep into Caitlin’s heart. This was the sort of woman that men like Brodie were attracted to, not skittish young girls who made fools of themselves. It was okay—it had been a nice fantasy while it lasted, and the bonus was she still had her mother’s bracelet after all, thanks to him.

  After nodding to Roberto, Caitlin started singing the next song listed, a newer release from a young country singer branching off into pop. It was ironic considering the situation, that there would be no Romeo for her Juliet. Not tonight, and not in this crowd of people. She was not in their class at all. Trying to ignore her hero in the crowd, she focused on the very large, intimidating man at the table to her right. He looked a little familiar, as did a few other young men who seemed to be grinning up at her. She turned slightly away and tried to return to the almost dreamlike state she could achieve while singing, not wanting to ever think about any good-looking men again.

  Chapter Six

  Brodie stepped from the front of the stage, plastered a fake smile across his face and headed for the door to ‘welcome’ the late arrivals. As he walked closer to the noisy, attention-seeking woman—as he’d suspected, it was Lila—he finally realised who was accompanying her. It was none other than Jack Edwards, the scandal king, a reporter whose name was attached to nearly every article that had attacked Brodie’s beloved sport over the past few years. He was furious. What the hell was his ex-wife doing here at his function with Edwards?

  Talk about nightmare scenarios. The way his ex was dressed was enough to fill the papers with scandal fodder for days. As usual, Lila wore an outfit that didn’t cover much at all. He’d never understood her taste in such revealing clothing. It embarrassed more than impressed him. It was the only area where Lila believed less was better.

  The whole place seemed to stand still. Everyone’s attention flicked from Lila to Brodie, as if they were watching a game of tennis. Just as he reached this most unwelcome pair of guests, he heard the music and the gifted singer resume. With the music distracting him momentarily, he almost didn’t see that Lila was closing in. He was sure she was intent on placing a kiss on him.

  No way! He quickly took a step away from her scantily clad body, placing a hand up to separate them. He grabbed the tickets from Edwards’ outstretched hand.

  Brodie double-checked the tickets and found them to be genuine. He’d known they would be. He requested bleakly that Lila and Edwards follow him. As Brodie turned and headed towards the only table with empty seats—his table—he now understood the reason the two seats had remained empty as the dinner began. He guessed he could stop worrying about who had not shown up. What was the world doing to him? He felt a little paranoid about the position he now found himself in. A whole night of having to be sociable with Lila and Edwards was ahead of him. He could only find one upside to this, and that was seeing JT’s reaction.

  As Brodie reached his seat he diplomatically, yet somewhat grudgingly, assisted Lila to get comfortable. Maybe with a fork sticking out of her behind. He finally had the chance to sit down and enjoy the beautiful music, but as he started to sit, his attention drifted towards the stage. The spotlight had been left on and now he could see that there was a singer, and
the voice had not been a recording. His gaze locked on to a pair of huge, emerald-green eyes looking back down at him. He couldn’t believe it was possible. His Caitlin was the owner of that beautiful voice he had been listening to all along.

  There she was, standing not more than a few feet away from him. His heart raced, stopped, raced again, and he realised he was caught suspended somewhere between sitting and standing, staring at the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen. She was no girl. He had been wrong. Caitlin was all woman.

  Her luscious red hair was spiralling down past her shoulders, which were encased by the sexiest black dress. Showing just enough cleavage and just enough leg, she glittered, as if covered in a thousand twinkling stars. An angel for him, sent from heaven and with such a sweet voice! He just wanted to take her in his arms and hold her. He imagined peeling that clingy dress slowly from her body and kissing her, from those creamy-coloured rounded swells that appeared at the top of her dress—his mind instantly transported back to his shower and erotic imaginings—all the way to her toes, lingering in many spots in between.

  Brodie had to get a grip. Either sit or stand, he told himself forcibly. So he slumped into his chair, his engorged cock pushing painfully against the zipper of his pants. He squirmed, trying to ease the pressure, mesmerised by her voice, her body. Caitlin. He had to have her. But he couldn’t use her that way. It wasn’t his style, and since he had made the decision not to form any long-term relationships—not after the last one had ended so disastrously—Brodie now faced one hell of a fucking dilemma. As that thought pushed its way into his captivated and equally confused mind, he felt the hairs rise on the nape of his neck.

  Lila looked at him, then back at Caitlin. She knew him. A frown lined her Botoxed face before it was quickly replaced with a sinister smirk. Lila was going to cause trouble.

  “Finally joined the dots then, Cap,” said a familiar, gruff voice.

  It was coming from JT, his best mate, who had been sitting at the table with a few of the other Jets players and their better halves, probably making bets on how long it would take for him to recognise her.

  “Took you long enough, buddy.”

  Caitlin had to continue singing, though she wasn’t even sure how the words kept coming from her mouth. She was looking right at him when he noticed her. As his chocolate-brown eyes locked on to hers, they seemed to grow as big as dinner plates. He didn’t sit or stand, but just seemed to be frozen somewhere in between. Caitlin wasn’t sure if he was angry with her or not. She was confused by his reaction, thinking it was probably due to the beauty queen sitting next to him, whose long, blonde hair was so straight and shiny. Brodie was probably worried that Caitlin would embarrass him again. Who could blame him, after the way she had flung herself at him? He didn’t need to worry, though. She knew her place.

  As she dragged her gaze away from his handsome face, she noticed that his girlfriend had a frown on hers. But immediately she thought she must have misread the woman’s expression. What on earth could the beautiful blonde possibly have to frown about when she was sitting next to Brodie James?

  Three more songs. Caitlin could make it. Then she could take a break from his unrelenting gaze. She would duck outside, cool off and get a breath of fresh air. The temperature inside the room had skyrocketed. Caitlin knew Angelo would be frantic over the obvious problem with the air conditioning. She felt as if she was melting. Heat rolled over her in waves, from the soles of her feet through to the top of her head. It was almost torture, a feeling Caitlin had never experienced on stage before. She normally felt so comfortable and relaxed.

  Chapter Seven

  Brodie had not even noticed the untouched plate of food in front of him until JT punched him playfully on the arm.

  “If you’re not going to eat that, send it up this way. It’s too good to waste.”

  Brodie saw the amused expression on his friend’s face as the big man leaned towards him and spoke quietly, so as to not be overheard.

  “That’s the one from the pool, isn’t it, mate? Careful. Looks like you’ve got it bad, and the way you’re undressing her with your eyes…” He winked. “I’m worried you’re about to drool, mate. Cruella over there is lapping it up, and by the way, what the hell is she doing here? Watch your back, mate. I think you’ve got trouble ahead.”

  Brodie turned his attention from JT to Lila, or Cruella, as JT insisted on calling her these days, and realised his teammate was probably right on the money.

  JT had been with Brodie through every step of the messy marriage and subsequent divorce. Brodie liked the fact that JT was one of the few things that Lila hadn’t got, and it wasn’t through Lila’s lack of trying, either. Lila had made it her personal mission to try and entice as many of Brodie’s mates or footy opponents into her bed as possible, before and after the divorce.

  JT had a radar for trouble, and Brodie wished he had listened to his friend’s concerns before the wedding. Brodie had thought he’d been in love back then. Lila had played the role of devoted girlfriend, then fiancée perfectly—or at least, she had when Brodie was around.

  Brodie had been like a plucky rooster, strutting about town with glamour on his arm and feeling the envy of every man in the trendy nightclubs they’d frequented. It hadn’t been long into their marriage that the glamour had stopped hiding Lila’s petty, vindictive and greedy streak.

  League players’ lives were actually lonely ones. They were away from home and family regularly. Frequently travelling long distances to games in places like North Queensland, Brisbane, New Zealand and Melbourne was standard. Brodie had also spent many weeks at a time abroad as he played for his country, then captained the national team against Great Britain and France. Not that Brodie was complaining—he loved playing and had done well out of the game, as had JT.

  A few good contracts, sponsorship deals and endorsements, with the money wisely invested, had set Brodie up for life. He had purchased property for a song when the market was down and turned a profit. He just had a knack for making money. The income and fame was what had attracted Lila. She had certainly enjoyed his money, but she sure as hell wasn’t getting her claws on any more. Brodie often lamented the overgenerous settlement he had made in order to get a quiet divorce. Now, as he pushed his plate towards his friend, he noticed the genuine look of concern on JT’s face.

  “I’m okay, mate,” Brodie said with a grin. “Good to know you’ve still got my back.”

  “Always, Brodes, and you know it. It’s a bit of a viper pit in here tonight. Bad organisation on your behalf,” he said jokingly. “Certainly wasn’t expecting that lowlife at our table.” JT nodded towards Jack Edwards, then continued to shovel food into his mouth. After a few forkfuls he stopped eating and added, “It’s almost enough to put a man off his food. What’s going on there?”

  Brodie just shook his head. “Trouble. What else? Maybe I should have paid a little more attention to the last-minute changes Angelo made to my seating plan,” he answered. “I’ve got to start the auction. Keep those big paws down, JT. You don’t need any of this stuff, and in fact, half of it was yours, anyway.” Brodie laughed as he got up from the table.

  Jon Thomson loved a good cause. He was a sucker for one. And he loved a win and would go to any lengths to get one—legally, of course. His mindset was a dangerous and expensive combination at a charity auction. As a result, he had a garage full of items he had no real use for. It was a bit of a standing joke around town that JT was invited to nearly every event going. Not that anyone else but Brodie would give him a hard time about it to his face. JT stood at a hundred and ninety-eight centimetres—or six foot five—and was a hundred and twenty kilograms of pure muscle. Jon Thomson was fierce on and off the field, never taking a backward step and loyal to the end.

  Brodie remembered the first day the two had met. Both big men had eyed each other up and down, stalking like tigers waiting to pounce, each feeling out his opponent for any weakness. They had trained side by side that day, pushing
each other to the limit. Neither man had wanted to be the one to break first. After weights, push-ups, pull-ups, tackle bags and finally running, each had almost fallen, exhausted, to the ground. It had taken the coach explaining that he needed two props on the field to end their pointless competition. He’d asked them to try not to kill each other, as he had a whole game plan centred around them and didn’t have time to make another. Having been given a lifeline to end the feud without showing weakness, both men had headed towards the sheds.

  They had hardly made it back, swaying and close to collapse, but a mutual respect had been established, laying a foundation for them to be mates for life. Ten years later, Brodie and JT, still leading the Jets, had won their fair share of games and battles. They’d had some lean times too. But one thing had never changed—they had always had each other’s backs.

  Brodie didn’t think he’d ever be able to take the field in opposition to this man. Luckily, the Sydney Jets had managed to retain both players, and hopefully that situation would never change until they both retired. The alternative was a chilling prospect not worth thinking about.

  Brodie picked up the first item on the ballot—a rugby league ball signed by the Australian team, which had just beaten New Zealand in the recent Anzac Day Test. An annual event held to commemorate the two nations’ victories and losses in wartime, it was always an emotional and hard-fought battle. Watching the New Zealand players perform the cultural haka warrior dance always got the adrenaline pumping.

  There were ten similar items on the auction list, a few autographed jerseys and balls donated by mates from other teams in the competition, a holiday to the Gold Coast with tickets for the local Seagulls game. There was even a soccer ball signed by a few of the Socceroos team, who were soon to be heading over to the World Cup. Brodie had been expecting JT to bid on that. He would have himself, if he hadn’t been running the show. All items were quickly snapped up, with JT having done his best to push up the price of every single one.