‘Ellie-pie, what’s happening?’
‘Not much.’ She sighed—the universal signal that there was, in fact, something happening. ‘Boy stuff.’
‘You know how I deal with that.’ Brodie frowned.
Trouble related to boys was squarely not in the realm of brotherly duties. Unless, of course, the solution to said boy problem involved him putting the fear of God into whichever pimply-faced rat had upset his little sister.
‘Yeah, I know. I wasn’t calling about that.’ Pause. ‘When are you coming home?’
‘I only left a couple of days ago.’ Not that it stopped the guilt from churning.
‘I know.’ She sighed again. ‘Hey, can I come and stay with you when you get back?’
He smiled. ‘Are the twins driving you crazy again?’
‘No. Lydia’s being difficult today.’
The relationship between his oldest and youngest sister had always been tense. And Lydia’s mood changes seemed to affect Ellen more than anyone; she was often the one at home, taking on the role of parent when Brodie and their mother were working and the twins were out living their lives.
It might have been easier with another parental figure around, but his dad was best described as an ‘absentee parent’. Even before the divorce his father had shunned responsibility, favouring activities that allowed him to ‘find his creativity’ over supporting his kids or his wife.
‘Lydia can’t help it. Her situation is tough—you know that.’
‘You always take her side,’ Ellen whined.
‘No, I don’t.’ He sighed, pressing his fingers to his temple.
‘You do—just like everyone else!’ The wobble in her voice signalled that tears were imminent.
‘I’m not taking sides, Ellen, and I understand you cop the brunt of it.’
That seemed to appease her. ‘I want to get out of the house for a bit. And I can’t go to Jamie’s… We broke up.’
Oh, boy. ‘Do I need to pay him a visit?’
‘No. It was mutual. We weren’t ready to settle down with one another.’
Not surprising—she was only nineteen. Brodie rolled his eyes. ‘I’ll call you when I get home. Then you can come and crash for the weekend.’
Chantal had arrived at the table, and a soft smile tugged at her lips. Was that because she’d had good news, or because she’d caught him playing big brother? He finished up his call with Ellen and shoved the phone into his pocket.
‘You’re still here.’
Her voice broke through the ambient noise of the café.
‘Of course I’m still here. I said I would be.’
She hovered by the edge of the table, hands twisting in front of her.
‘You don’t need an invitation,’ he said, but he stood anyway and drew back the seat next to him so she could sit down. ‘How did it go?’
‘I don’t know. It felt good.’ She shook her head and sat, tucking her feet up underneath her. ‘But that doesn’t always mean anything. They said they’ll get back to me.’
‘I’m sure you were amazing.’ He reached out and grabbed her hand, giving it a soft squeeze.
‘Amazing doesn’t always cut it.’
‘It doesn’t?’
‘No. You can’t just be a great dancer—you have to look right, have the right style…’ Her cheeks were stained pink and she rubbed her hands over her face. ‘These are the big guns too. They didn’t even open up for auditions last year.’
Her breath came out irregular—too fast, too shallow. He could see her mind whirring behind those beautiful soulful eyes. He could see the doubt painted across her face. He could imagine the words she didn’t say aloud. I hope it was enough. I hope I was enough.
Instead she said, ‘Some days I wonder if it’s worth it.’
‘Of course it’s worth it.’
How could she say something like that? People would kill for her talent.
‘Easy for you to say—you’re not the one up there, putting yourself out for every man and his dog to judge you.’
‘People judge each other every day,’ Brodie pointed out. ‘You don’t need a stage for that.’
She smiled, her shoulders relaxing as she loosened her hair. The dark strands fell around her shoulders, golden ends glinting in the sun streaming through the café’s window. ‘Is that a dig at me?’
‘It might be.’
He flagged down a waitress and ordered Chantal a coffee. They watched each other for a moment like two dogs circling. Wary. Charged.
‘Because I think you lead a charmed life?’
‘Because you don’t think I work for it.’ He took a long swig from his water bottle. ‘I do.’
‘I know you work for it. But you have to admit you seem to land on your feet, no matter what.’
‘And you don’t?’ He raked a hand through his hair.
‘No, I don’t.’
She let out a hollow laugh and the sound made him want to pull her tight against him.
‘You have no idea what it’s been like the last few years.’
‘So tell me?’
Silence. Perhaps she didn’t expect him to care. Chantal paused while the waitress set down her coffee. She cradled the cup in her small hands, blowing at the steam.
When she stayed quiet he changed tactic. ‘How come you never called?’
‘You never called either.’
She sipped her drink and set the cup down on the table. For a moment the view of the pier had her attention, and the tension melted from her face.
‘I wasn’t exactly keen to share that my career was going down the gurgler. Why else would I have called?’
‘Because we’re friends, Chantal, despite how it ended.’
‘You’re right.’ She nodded. ‘Friends.’
God, he wanted to kiss her. She was sex on legs. Perfection.
‘Friends who have the hots for each other.’
‘I don’t have the hots for you,’ she protested, but her cheeks flamed crimson and her gaze locked onto some invisible spot on the ground.
‘How about you look me in the eye when you say that?’
‘Okay—fine. You’re kind of a hottie.’ Red, redder, reddest. She still didn’t look up. ‘But you’re not my type.’
‘What’s your type?’
‘Tall, dark and handsome?’ she quipped with a wave of her hand. ‘No guys are my type at the moment. I have this little thing called a career that needs saving.’
‘It’s not that you don’t have time for guys—you just don’t have time for relationships.’ Brodie rolled the idea around in his head. ‘Maybe what you need is a little no-strings tension-reliever.’
‘Is that what the kids are calling it these days?’ She raised a brow at him and traced the edge of her coffee cup with a fingertip.
‘Doesn’t matter what it’s called so long as it feels good.’
‘I’m not a hedonist like you, Brodie. There are more important things in life than pleasure. I need my focus at the moment.’
‘Perhaps… But don’t you think you could do with a little pleasure right now?’
He reached out and cupped the side of her face. Their knees touched under the table and he could feel the heat radiating from her.
Her dark lashes fluttered. He wasn’t going to kiss her again—not yet. She’d run scared if he pushed too hard too soon… But he would draw her in. Relax her boundaries. Give her space to let her guard drop.
Then he would have her.
CHAPTER FIVE
LATER THAT EVENING Chantal and Brodie wandered around The Rocks. To anyone else they might have looked like two people who’d been together forever. Behind the bridge the sun had set, streaking the sky with rich shades of gold, pink and red. Sydney was ready for a night out, glittering and looking its absolute best in the balmy air.
Brodie looked as though he belonged with the glamorous city crowd—as he did with any scene he joined. He had the ability to melt into a group of people no matter who they
were. Rich clients, hard-working staff, children—he charmed them all. She’d seen it first hand at Weeping Reef. No wonder he’d done so well with his business.
Women were his forte. He knew exactly what to say to charm them straight out of their panties. Sometimes he could do it without saying a thing. Now she couldn’t help but notice the way other women stared at him as they strolled back to the yacht. And why wouldn’t they?
His hips rolled in a sensuous, languid gait. He had that loose-limbed, laid-back sexiness that was impossible to fake. You either had it or you didn’t. And, boy, did he have it!
What is it about focus that you don’t understand? Hands off, lips off, eyes off… everything off. Ugh, stop thinking about him!
‘You’re quiet,’ he said as they returned to the boat.
The rest of the Weeping Reef crew would be joining them in an hour or so, and Chantal planned to enjoy her night off. The audition played on her mind, but if she thought about it any more she’d surely go crazy. No, tonight would be an opportunity to let her hair down and relax before she had to go back to the bar.
‘My mind isn’t,’ Chantal muttered.
‘Anything in particular bothering you?’
‘Just thinking about work stuff.’
It wasn’t a total lie, and she wasn’t going to encourage him by revealing her inner monologue about his hotness.
‘You can’t be all work and no play.’ He walked to the fridge on deck and pulled out a bottle of champagne, popping the cork and pouring her a glass.
‘I think you have enough play for both of us.’
‘I’d be happy to share it with you.’
He handed her the flute, her fingers grazing his as she grasped the stem. Goosebumps skittered across her skin and she wondered if perhaps her slinky, skin-tight dress had been a dangerous choice. She’d bought the dress after her audition because it was the exact blue-green of the ocean in the Whitsundays—a fitting choice for catching up with the old gang.
But her arms and legs were exposed to the night air, along with a portion of her back beneath the thick bands of fabric criss-crossing their way down her spine.
It would be fine. The others would arrive soon, and she’d make sure that she and Brodie weren’t left alone. Piece of cake.
Yeah, right.
‘So what did you do after you left the reef?’ she asked, sipping her drink.
‘A bit of this and that. There’s not much to tell.’ He shrugged, dropping down into a seat and stretching his long, muscular legs out in front of him. ‘Went to university, dropped out of university, got a job sailing yachts.’
‘That’s it? Come on—I’m sure a lot more happened in eight years.’ She dropped down next to him, resisting the desire to ease against him as he automatically slung his arm along the back of her seat.
‘There was a girl.’
‘Just one?’ she teased, hating herself for the clutch of jealousy deep in her chest.
His eyes darkened, the pale green glowing in the dimming light. ‘One relationship. It didn’t end well and I don’t have any desire to revisit the experience.’
‘Why did you break up?’ Colour her curious, but she’d never known Brodie to have a relationship with anyone. Unless you called repeated booty calls a relationship.
‘It was a combination of things.’ He shook his head, tilting his gaze up to the darkening sky. ‘I was away a lot with work. I had my family to look after. She needed a lot of attention. Nothing more than incompatibility, pure and simple.’
‘You always struck me as the attentive type.’
‘No one is that attentive. She wanted us to be joined at the hip.’ His voice tightened. ‘I don’t do inseparability. I need my space—the open waters and all that.’
‘How did you meet?’
‘She was a friend.’ His mouth twisted into a grimace. ‘I met her at university but we didn’t get together until after I dropped out.’
‘I guess she’s not a friend any more?’
‘No.’
‘Sounds like you made the right call.’
‘The right call would have been not going there in the first place.’ Brodie sighed. ‘Some people aren’t cut out for relationships.’
It sounded like a warning. Not that she needed it. She had no intention of getting sucked into Brodie’s sex vortex the way other girls did. She knew he was a love ‘em and leave ‘em kind of guy… It was why she’d stayed away from him in the first place.
But she didn’t exactly want a relationship right now either. Didn’t that make them perfectly compatible for one night?
Heart thudding against her rib cage, she took a long swig of her champagne. Brodie’s arm moved from the seat to her shoulders and his intoxicating coconut-and-sea-air smell made her mouth water.
Would it be so bad to have a little ‘no-strings tension-reliever’, as he’d called it? Surely she could afford to be unfocused for one day… just a night, really. Not even a whole day.
She was only working at the crappy bar tomorrow, so it wasn’t as if she needed to be on her A-game. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt. But could she walk away after a single night? Weeping Reef had taught her that Brodie’s powers of seduction were second to none. What if he wanted more and she couldn’t say no? The last thing she needed was to get sucked into a situation where she had another man trying to overpower her, trying to control her decisions.
She couldn’t let that happen.
‘What about you? Was it all about the dancing after you left?’
‘I stayed a while longer on the resort, actually.’
After watching the Weeping Reef friendships disintegrate she’d wanted to flee. But dance school wouldn’t pay for itself and she’d refused to ask her mother for anything else. It had been her time to prove what she was made of. Prove how determined she was.
‘But it wasn’t the same.’
‘We had a great year together, didn’t we?’
‘We did.’
‘I couldn’t keep my eyes off you.’ His voice was low, rough.
Chantal turned and his arm tightened around her. Her fingers ached to touch him. The now inky sky glittered with city lights. Magical. Surreal. He leant forward, his eyes drinking in every detail.
‘Perv,’ she said.
Her shaky laugh failed to diffuse the tension.
‘I was so jealous of Scott. He had you to himself night after night.’
She tried to shrug his arm away but he held tight. ‘And you had every other girl on the resort.’
‘None of them compared to you, Chantal.’ He brushed his lips against her temple, the soft kiss sending electric sensations through her. ‘They didn’t even come close.’
‘Why didn’t you say anything?’
She asked it so quietly that she couldn’t be sure he’d heard it. Not till his pupils flared and his breath came in short bursts did she dare think about that night. About that dance.
‘It was wrong being so attracted to you when you were Scott’s girl.’ Brodie shook his head, blond hair falling about his face.
‘Is that why you left?’ She reached up and brushed the strands out of his eyes.
His hand caught her wrist, turning it so he could press his lips to the tender skin on the inside. ‘Of course it’s why I left.’
Breathing was a struggle. Thinking was… impossible. Kissing him was all she could focus on.
‘You were everything. All I could think about… all I could dream about.’ He drew her arm around his neck and leaned in, lips at her ear. ‘All I could fantasise about.’
Each word nudged her body temperature higher. Her hand curled in the length of his hair, gripping, tugging. Resisting.
‘Brodie…’
‘I’ve wanted you from the second I saw you at that resort. You were dancing. I’d never seen anyone move like that before.’
‘We shouldn’t do this…’ Should we?
His eyes were engulfed by the onyx of his pupils. ‘Stay with me tonight.’
> ‘I am staying here.’
‘Stay with me. In my bed.’
‘Brodie…’ His name was a warning on her lips, but temptation spiralled out of control. Where was her resolve? Her focus?
‘Just for tonight. Then tomorrow we can pretend it never happened.’
He stood and turned, waving to the rest of the Weeping Reef gang as they approached the yacht.
Chantal hadn’t heard them. But with Brodie about to kiss her, a bomb might have been dropped and she wouldn’t have noticed a damn thing.
‘You two looked pretty cosy before,’ Scott said.
The boys had separated from the girls and they hung out on the deck, port side. After dancing their feet off—and putting on quite the show—the girls were taking a break in the cabin, a fresh bottle of champagne flowing and peals of laughter piercing the night air.
‘No idea what you’re talking about, mate.’ Brodie put on his best poker face—which, if his track record was anything to go on, was terrible.
‘You’re so full of it.’ Scott laughed.
‘You’re a bit of an open book, aren’t you?’ said Rob Hanson, Willa’s partner, in his distinctive South African accent. He eyed Brodie with an amused smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes.
Just because Scott and Rob had sorted their love-lives out it didn’t given them licence to have a dig at his. Not that he wanted a love-life—he was happy with a gratifying and varied sex-life, thank you very much.
‘Are you going to get it over with?’ Scott took a swig of his beer.
Brodie rolled his eyes and looked out to the water. ‘Nothing’s going on.’
‘Maybe not yet.’ Rob smirked. ‘But you’re better off getting it out of your system.’
Brodie’s pocket vibrated and he pulled out his phone. Saved by the bell! A text from Jenny—aka twin number one. She’d had a fight with twin number two and wanted a place to crash.
No can do, Jen. I’m in Sydney. Stop giving your sister a hard time.
He toyed with the phone, knowing that there would be an immediate response from his serial-texting younger sister.
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