He stroked a hand through her hair, smoothing it back. At some point it had come out of its ponytail and was all over her shoulders. He looked oddly fierce. “Who said you were hard to love?”
She shrugged. “You want a list?” She wanted him to understand there were others who’d never bothered to stand up to her, or for her, or put on skates when they knew they’d make a fool of themselves.
“You’re not hard to love, Bree. You’re...” he faltered, closing his eyes as if centring himself. When he opened them again she was hit with the sensation of falling. She clutched him, wrapping her leg over his hip to save herself from bottoming out. “You’re fucking awesome. You kill it at work and you’re so brave on the track it scares me. You deserve to be loved right.”
She swallowed hard. “It’d take a special bloke to be able to love me right.”
“Is the position open?”
“You thinking of applying?
“If you’ll have me?”
She looked away. He was too much. He always had been, but like this, focussed on her with all his smarts, he made her brain freeze up for fear of it not being real.
“Don’t, Bree. Don’t complicate it. I told you I’d settle for being your friend. But if you won’t have me there either, I’ll buy a pink shirt and a top hat and join your cheer squad.”
She sat up and shook her head. She couldn’t look at him in case she teared up.
He followed her to a sitting position, took advantage of her confusion and wrapped her in his arms. “You can have Kitty Caruso and your corporate career. Don’t give it up. You love it. I hate you might get hurt, but it’s not about me.”
It was easier to talk about being Kitty than to acknowledge how important this great hunk of annoying, wonderful man who had her tucked into his chest had become. “We’ve lost our sponsor, so the Tricks will probably fold anyway.”
“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”
She spun in his arms to look at him. “Has Toni said something? Has she worked it out?”
“She might have.”
She frowned at him. How did he know stuff she didn’t? She poked him in the ribs. “You tell me what you know.”
He grunted, twisting to get away from any further close range attacks. “You have a new sponsor.”
“Who?”
“Me.”
“Shut up.”
He gave her an ‘I own a derby team’ grin.
“No! You sponsored the Tricks? By yourself?”
“Yep. For two seasons. And I put up prize money for the final bout this season. It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing.”
“You? What? When?” She searched his face for any sign of sarcasm or fooling around. He wore his ‘love a good spreadsheet’ serious expression.
“Is it so hard to believe? I signed the paperwork and delivered a cheque Friday.”
“You must have money to burn.” She tried to tidy her hair. Tried to think. This made no sense. “There is no possible benefit to you.”
“I sold my old Alfa and the benefit is you still have a registered team.”
Bree felt her own eyes widen with amazement. “You sold your car to sponsor my derby team without knowing if I was ever going to talk to you again.”
He laughed. “Call me an idiot.”
“Wow. I thought you were a good analyst. That was a lousy decision.”
“I’ve always been a risk taker and a gambler. I thought you were a good bet. I still think so.”
“A good bet.” She pushed away from him and got to her knees. “That’s what you think I am—something to play with.”
He reached for her, but she got to her feet. Bonne Tyler was singing I Need a Hero and it was simply too cheesy. She had to shut it down. She didn’t need a hero, and a man who thought he could make a game of being with her wasn’t any kind of champion she recognised. She left him on the floor and went to shut the sound system down. Hopefully he’d get up and leave and take his poisoned sponsorship with him.
She never made it to the sound deck. He ploughed into the back of her, lifting her and wrapping her in his arms, managing somehow to stay upright. “You don’t get to be so fucking unfair to me.” She struggled to get free, kicking and thrashing, but he’d boxed her into his body. “Life is a gamble. You know it.” He released her and she skated away, turning to look at him. “Every time you put your skates on and come out on the track you bet against not getting hurt. You do it because you know the risks and prepare for them. You bet on yourself to stay safe and to come out a winner. You do it at work as well. It’s all a gamble. I don’t see what’s wrong with me wanting to bet on you too. They way I figure it I can’t lose.”
She couldn’t look at him anymore. She looked at Damo’s skates.
“Bree, look at me. I’m applying for the position of someone who loves you. Are you accepting applications?”
She lifted her head. She saw a man who’d pushed her buttons until she fought him for respect, until she made him think about the world a little differently and he thanked her for showing it to him.
And wanted to sign up for more.
“You sold your car.”
He nodded. “I’ve got a pretty cool loaner even if it’s a yank tank.”
“You sponsored the Tricks?”
“I am the proud sponsor of an all girl roller derby league team that kicks arse. Big Swinging Tricks forever.”
“Unbelievable.” Bree shook her head as the miracles stacked up. “You want to be with me?”
“Like a fish needs to swim.”
He said that too loud, too clear. Every seat in the empty stadium got the message, but it couldn’t be right. “You don’t care that I’m Miss Perfect at work and miscarriage of justice on the track?”
“I fucking love it.”
Her throat felt tight like she’d been socked in the windpipe. “I’m accepting applications.”
“Is there any way I can influence the decision?”
She skated up to him; she stood on her toe stoppers and pressed into him. “You could kiss me.”
He folded around her, rested his forehead on hers, his hands on her butt. “Too easy. Anyone could do that.”
“I don’t want anyone.”
“You don’t?”
The wonder in his tone made her smile and her eyes water. “How do you feel about that?”
He put his hands under her thighs and lifted her, any second now and they’d be tangled on the floor. She wrapped her legs around his waist and held her breath. They stayed upright. Pat Benatar sang Hit Me With Your Best Shot. Ant kissed her with a softness and a sureness that jammed up her heart and opened her soul.
That’s how he felt about it.
15: Holding the Star
Ant eased Dan’s Valiant into a space on Bondi Prom. He almost sideswiped the next car because he caught a glimpse of Bree’s bare thigh as her dress lifted when she turned to unbuckle her seat belt. That’s what she did to him. Made his brain all squishy and malleable, and his normal reaction times subject to sudden stop work meetings. He’d never felt so awake, so grateful to find someone who could open the world up for him just by sitting next to him. And when she touched him—no monster wave ride, no big market win was more thrilling.
“There’s so many of them. I’m going to get confused,” she said.
“Seven, plus us. Remember Fluke is the ranga, Dan is the charismatic one, Alex is the stunner, and Scott is the sharp dresser. Start there and everything else will fall into place.”
She laughed. “Hopefully easier and quicker than we did.”
He turned off the ignition. “Maybe we shouldn’t go.”
She aimed a poke at him but he dodged it. “Nice try, Stickyfoot. I can hardly wait for the grovelling to begin.”
“I could’ve kept this a secret from you. Done a Kitty Caruso and you’d never have known about the bet.”
She reached for his hand. “You only think you can keep things from me. You’re n
ot that bright, babe.”
“Really, doll? Why don’t we lay a wager?”
She dropped his hand and swivelled to face him. “I’ll bet you can’t get through lunch without thinking about what we did in the shower this morning.”
Ant groaned. He’d nearly run a red on the way here thinking about it. There’s no way he could win that bet. “What do I get if I win?”
She licked her lips. “Another skating lesson.”
“Will you wear the Kitty skirt with the bite me pants and the fishnets?”
She gave him a cold-eyed stare. “If you’re very good.”
“You’re on. I’ll make it through lunch, even the grovelling part where I have to humble myself by admitting to your superiority without thinking of what you did with that loofah.”
There’s no way that would happen. The image of her wet and slippery with soap, glowing with energy was on auto–repeat in his head. He’d counted her bruises and lavished attention on every one of them. They were well water logged and satisfied by the time the hot water ran out.
He stuck out his hand. She took it and they shook, then he turned their joined hands so he could bring her palm to his lips and he bit gently into the flesh of her thumb.
She’d body blocked him and jammed up his comfortable life. He was utterly whipped by her and he didn’t care who knew it.
No opportunity in his life before or since would ever be the equal to Bree, would ever be more thrilling than Kitty. One girl with two halves had rolled into his life, and because she could challenge his thinking and handle his ego, she made him want to lay down at her feet and let her skate all over him.
He was permanently, positively discriminating in her favour. His family were going to love her. It might take a while to win Nonna. But they’d love Bree, first because he did, and second because she was exactly what he needed.
He’d bet his life, his job, his sanity, his happiness on this roller girl and it was such a sure thing there was no way he could ever lose.
Grease Monkey Jive
Ainslie Paton
A romance about changing the game, finding the truth, and fancy footwork
When ballroom teacher Alex Gibson dances with Dan Maddox she’s reminded of the time she stuck a knife in the toaster, gave herself an electric shock, and saw stars. He’s precisely the type of man Alex’s mother warned her off – a player, like the father who abandoned her.
Dan Maddox comes from a long line of men who were hiding under the hood of a beat-up car when the ‘successful relationship’ gene was given out, but he was first in the queue for an extra jolt of chick-pulling power.
The chicks in Dan’s life are universally gorgeous, random, and disposable, until one drunken night when he picks the wrong girl, hurts a good friend, and realises that unless he does something to change, he’ll end up like his violent, unstable father.
It’s Pimp My Ride meets Dancing With The Stars as Alex and Dan come together to compete in a ballroom dancing competition that changes the way they both feel about relationships and love.
The Moment
When Alex was a kid, she gave herself a nasty electric shock by sticking a knife down the slot of the toaster to rescue her breakfast. As the electricity gripped her in the seconds before shutting off, every muscle spasmed and the air crackled and fizzed with blue sparks.
She was twelve years old, had burned fingers, and was in lot of trouble with Mum and Gran.
She was twice that age now and hadn’t forgotten the intensity of that electric zap and how wildly it made her heart beat and her thoughts fly, from the sheer physical surprise and the recognition that she was in serious strife.
There was no toast, no toaster, and no knife anywhere to hand, but the sensation that struck her body when she looked into his eyes was the same. Electricity pulsed through her nerves, leaped in her muscles, and fired inside her brain. She was in deep trouble.
All he’d done was lower his chin and raise his eyes, looking at her from across the room. That’s all. It barely counted as a movement. It was more a re-positioning, more an adjustment than a conscious action, but everything changed in that moment.
The breath sucked out of her; the room closed in. She felt energised and inspired beyond the bounds of her training and the encouragement of the music. There was nothing she couldn’t achieve. Her feet flew through the steps, her placement never more accurate, her leaps and kicks never higher, her body positioning and posture never prouder or more abandoned at the same time.
She danced on air, as a beam of sunlight might chase a shadow across the floor. It was physically effortless and without the need to think. She was carelessness and precision, passion and control, pure energy and heat. She was the blue fizz and crackle, she was the shock of power, and she adored it.
When she got closer to him she could hear him breathing hard, see the dark blue of his bright eyes and their expression of wonder. She caught fire. When she circled around him, she saw tension flick along the ridge of muscle in his back and across the breadth of his shoulders. The line of his jaw tightened and his lips twitched into a smile as he looked for her and the fire caught, flared, lifting her higher, giving her iridescent wings and divine purpose.
When the music stopped, the silence was hopelessly profound. Her body became her own again and she felt the old stiffness behind her left knee and the too tight strap of her shoe.
She looked at Dan, still standing where Trevor had put him, but studying her as though he’d never met her before. She looked at Scott – surely he’d noticed something odd just happened – but he only had eyes for Dan, critical eyes.
She shook her head to try to reclaim her scorched senses and when she walked across to the stereo, she thought her legs might give way on her and spill her on the wooden floor.
Dan’s eyes never left her and a flood of self consciousness coursed through her, replacing the earlier feeling of joy with embarrassment. That was too much inspiration for a trial run. She could’ve just walked it through; there was no reason whatsoever to have danced like that, not for Dan, he’d have no idea of the technique he was seeing. Scott might’ve enjoyed it, the freedom and clarity of it, but Scott would’ve been annoyed she didn’t dance like that for him.
“What do you think?” said Scott, but not waiting for her reply. “You’re a good physical match and he does look the part. Of course, you’ll have to do all the work, girlfriend, but assuming he can at least do what he did then, we might be able to pull this off.”
Afterwards, Alex would wonder what she’d said in reply; she was already thinking it might be better to abandon this idea before it took on its own life and required her to re-organise hers.
He felt like he’d been hit by a train.
The shock to his chest was palpable, as though something steel hard and lightning sharp had ripped through him, leaving him open and raw and aching hot with sensation. His jaw dropped, his lids lowered, his breathing was suddenly laboured, and every muscle was tense with anticipation.
And despite the impression that he’d been shoved backwards at a great rate, staggering from the sheer force of the impact, he was standing stock still, statue still, shop window dummy still, just like he’d been told to.
He had no idea what just happened, why it felt like there was fire in his fingertips and his blood was circulating four times faster than normal, why he could hear bells ringing deep inside his head…
Maybe he was sick, this was a stroke or an aneurysm, come on suddenly with no warning and pushing him so far off balance he was electrified. He needed Google to check for the symptoms because maybe that explained his unexpected inability to speak or think clearly.
He had no idea how long Scott had been talking at him, so obviously his hearing was blown as well. It was her hand placed softly on his arm that brought him back, rushing back, and her honey voice saying his name that snatched him into the present again.
He snapped his mouth closed and made some sound, more a grunt than a
nything intelligible, and she turned away. Shit, she thought he was a Neanderthal and he’d just proven it. He ran a hand through the tangle of his hair and pushed a breath out, turning to look at Scott.
“Can you do that again, caveman?”
“Ah...?”
“Don’t over-think it. You either can or you can’t.”
“I don’t know what I did.”
Scott groaned, “You were perfect. Who’d have guessed, straight out of the box, never been used. You just have to do exactly what you did then and everything will be rainbows.”
‘Rainbows!’ What was this tool talking about? He couldn’t do that again; he wouldn’t live through the intensity of it. How was it she appeared so unaffected?
She was over by the stereo, nonchalantly selecting the next track, her long dark ponytail swinging over her shoulder, cascading across her elegantly slender neck. She had her extraordinary pale amber eyes down on the screen, leaning forward slightly, a delicious arch in her back, one long, well muscled leg in front of the other.
She looked real and natural, made of ordinary flesh and bone, where only a minute ago she’d seemed entirely illusory, like air, like desire given life in the form of an exotically beautiful girl.
He looked at Mitch and Fluke, sitting on the floor over against the mirror. They were both grinning at him like circus clowns. They must have felt it too then, or seen her change form and become something supernatural.
“Dan!”
“Sorry, Scott – what?”
“We’re going to do it again.”
“No, I...”
“Okay, take a minute.”
He glanced at Alex, now discussing something with Scott, a bright smile animating her face. He might as well have been insect repellent for all the impact he had on her. He shook his head to try to clear it and walked across to the boys.
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