She wore the black skirt and white top she’d had on at drinks earlier that evening, but she’d ditched her shoes and jewellery. The gold threads in her top glinted under the light, making it seem as if she were glowing. It wasn’t possible for her to look any more at home on the boat. He wondered what it would be like if they both tossed their obligations overboard and set sail. They had a boat—he had money. It could be the two of them. Together. Alone.
What is it about ‘just sex’ that you don’t understand? She doesn’t want you like that. You’re just a body. A good lay.
‘Are we going to keep dancing around like this or are you going to invite me to bed?’
She looked over the edge of her cup, the white porcelain barely hiding a cheeky smile. Her dark lashes fluttered and warm pink heat spread through her cheeks.
‘Who’s insatiable now?’
‘Time’s ticking. I want to enjoy this arrangement while I still can.’
It doesn’t have to stop.
The words teetered on the edge of his tongue, willing his lips to open so they could pour out. But he couldn’t let them. Instead he walked around to the other side of the breakfast bar and pulled her into his arms. His lips crushed down on hers, seeking out the hot, open delight of her mouth. The taste of fresh coffee mingled with the honeyed sweetness of her.
‘As you wish.’
Chantal woke to the sound of something vibrating, but the haze of slumber refused to release her. Groggy, she pushed herself into a sitting position, smiling as Brodie reached for her in his sleep. Fingertips brushed her thigh and he sighed, rolling over. Blond lashes threw feathered shadows across his cheekbones and his full lips melted into a gentle smile.
‘You look so damn innocent,’ she muttered, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. He didn’t stir. ‘But I know better.’
The vibrating stopped and a loud ping signalled a text message. Removing Brodie’s hand from her leg, she set off in search of her phone. It wasn’t in the bedroom, though everything else of hers appeared to be—a lacy thong, matching bra, white and gold top, stretchy black skirt.
A laugh bubbled in her throat. Her clothes were strewn so far around the room it looked almost staged. But her aching limbs told the truth. They’d spent another amazing, pulse-racing, heart-fluttering, boundary-breaking night together.
Danger! Emotions approaching—full speed ahead.
It was just sex… wasn’t it? She could stop any time. Spoken like a true addict, Turner.
Huffing, she stomped out to the kitchen. She didn’t want to be having thoughts like this. Brodie was a bit of fun. A friend, yes, but nothing more. She couldn’t let it be any more… not when he’d already shown that he had the same protective urges as her ex. No matter how well intentioned he was, she would not let herself be smothered again.
A flashing blue light caught her attention. One new voicemail. It had better not be the bar, pushing her to extend her contract. She’d officially be admitting defeat if she signed with them for another month. Then again, it wasn’t as if she had other offers to consider, and this thing with Brodie had to come to an end. He’d be sailing home at some point, and she couldn’t exactly stow away on his boat to avoid her problems. No, she needed an apartment, a job… a better job. She needed her independence back.
She tapped in her password and dialled the voicemail number. Her pulse shot up as the caller introduced himself as being from the Harbour Dance Company. They wanted her to come in for a chat about the company and a second audition. She hadn’t flunked it!
By the time she hung up the phone Brodie had ambled into the kitchen. Cotton pyjama pants hung low on his hips. A trail of blond hair dipped below the waistband. He was a god—a tattooed, tanned, six-pack-adorned god.
‘Good news?’
‘How could you tell?’ She put her phone back on the table and bounded over to him, throwing her arms around his neck.
‘Your greetings are usually a little less enthusiastic than this,’ he said, chuckling, and lifted her up so that her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. ‘Not to mention you were bouncing around so much I thought you’d been stung by a jellyfish.’
‘They want a second audition!’ She didn’t have time to counter his teasing. She was so brimming with relief that she had to let it out.
‘Why wouldn’t they? You’re pretty damn fantastic.’ He backed her up against the breakfast bar, bringing his mouth down to hers. ‘So that means we’ll be heading back to Sydney?’
‘I’ll be heading back to Sydney. The audition isn’t till the end of the week, and you’re taking off then… aren’t you?’
He hesitated, the jovial grin slipping from his lips as he avoided her eyes. ‘Yeah, I’ll be heading back soon.’
Had he been thinking about staying? For her? That was too confusing a thought to process, so she pushed a hand through his hair and kissed the tip of his nose.
‘No more swanning around on yachts for me.’
‘No.’
‘All good things must come to an end, as they say.’ She wished the cheerful tone of her voice mirrored her thoughts. But the words had as much substance as fairy floss.
What was wrong with her? This was Brodie. Beach bum. Playboy. Dreamer. Drifter. Flake.
Only he wasn’t any of those things in reality. He was a successful businessman. A friend, a great cook, a family man, the best sex of her life. He was complex, layered, and not at all as she’d labelled him. Could it get any worse?
‘We should celebrate,’ he said, cutting through her thoughts by setting her down. ‘How about I take you out on the water and we’ll have lunch?’
‘I have to be back for a shift tonight, but that would be great.’
‘Of course,’ he said, a hint of bitterness tainting his voice. ‘How could I forget about the bar?’
‘Don’t start, Brodie… it won’t go on forever.’ She wasn’t going to let that scummy bar ruin their celebration.
‘Why don’t you have a shower and I’ll get us underway.’
‘Are you trying to tell me I smell again?’ She shoved him in the shoulder and his smile returned… almost.
‘You smell like sex.’
‘Gee, I wonder why.’ She rolled her eyes and skipped off towards his room.
Some time later she emerged, having spent longer than usual showering. Water helped her to think. She often did her best problem-solving under the steady stream of a showerhead. Unfortunately today seemed to be an exception to the rule. No solution to her confusion about Brodie had materialised. She was still stuck between wanting to enjoy their time for what it was and the niggling feeling that perhaps it was more than she wanted to admit.
Dangerous thoughts… Remember what happened last time you gave in. Remember the smothering you didn’t see coming until it was too late.
She wandered to the upper area of the boat, spotting Brodie standing at the wheel and looking as though he’d been born to do exactly that. Wind whipped through his hair, tossing the blond strands around his face as the boat moved. Blond stubble had thickened along his chiselled jaw, roughening his usually charming face into something sexier and more masculine.
‘Clean as a whistle,’ she announced, stepping down into the driving area of the boat. ‘Can I join you at the wheel, Captain?’
‘You may.’
‘Wow, there are a lot of dials.’ Chantal hadn’t yet been up to this area of the boat. It looked like the cockpit of a plane.
‘It’s a fairly sophisticated piece of machinery. A slight step up from your average tugboat.’ He winked.
‘It feels like you’re free up here, doesn’t it?’
The sparkling blue of the ocean stretched for miles around, and the sun glinted off the waves like a scattering of tiny diamonds.
‘That’s what I love most about it. I can think out here.’ A shadow crossed over his face. ‘It’s like I have no problems at all.’
‘Do you ever wonder what would happen if you sailed away an
d never came back?’
‘Are you trying to tell me something?’ His smile didn’t ring true, the crinkle not quite reaching his eyes.
‘I’m serious. Don’t you think it would be great to go somewhere new? Start over?’ That sounded like the most appealing idea she’d ever come up with. A fresh start. No baggage. A clean slate unmarked by her previous mistakes.
He shrugged. ‘Yeah, I think about it for five seconds and then I realise what a stupid idea it is.’
‘Why?’
‘I couldn’t leave my family.’
‘Even if it was the thing you wanted to do most in the world?’
‘It would take something pretty spectacular to make me seriously consider it. To date, nothing has come close.’
Chantal bit down on her lip, hating herself for allowing his words to sting. He was clearly drawing a line in the sand, defining their relationship… or lack thereof. She should be happy. He’d absolved her of any guilt about leaving him at the end of the week. But the words cut into her as real and painful as any blade.
‘Doesn’t hurt to fantasise,’ she said wistfully.
‘Sometimes it does.’ He looked as though he were about to continue but his face changed suddenly. ‘We’re going to stop soon, but you might want to head portside in a minute.’
Chantal looked from left to right. ‘Portside?’
‘Sorry—boat-speak.’ Brodie pointed to a section of the railing to his left. ‘Stand over there.’
‘You’re not going to tip me overboard, are you?’
He smirked. ‘Don’t tempt me.’
Chantal went to the railing, holding on to the metal bar with both hands. ‘What am I looking for?’
‘You’ll know it when you see it.’
Beautiful as the view was, she couldn’t see anything much. They were clearly approaching land, but the fuzzy green mounds still looked a while away. She shielded her eyes with her hand, searching.
Something glimmered below the water—a shadow. Holy crap, was that a shark? Moments later the water broke, and a group of a dozen dolphins raced alongside the boat in a blur of grey and splashing blue.
‘Did you see that?’ Chantal shouted, leaning over the railing to watch the majestic creatures leap out of the water over and over.
They were so sleek. So fast and playful.
‘Careful!’ Brodie called out with a smile on his face. ‘Don’t fall in.’
‘There’s so many of them.’
She watched, mesmerised by the fluid way the dolphins moved—as if they were trying to keep up with the boat. Their smooth bodies sliced through the water, their beaked faces appearing to smile. They looked joyful. Uninhibited.
Chantal could feel the heat of Brodie’s gaze on her, boring holes through the thin layer of her ankle-length dress. Right now his boat was the most amazing place in the world. How would she ever leave it at the end of the week?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SEEING CHANTAL’S FACE when she discovered the dolphins had melted his insides. The sparkle in her eye, her squeak of delight, the way she’d hung over the railing as though she was desperate to jump into the water with them… it had been too much.
After the dolphins had moved on he’d steered them to Nelson Bay and moored in the spot normally reserved for one of the dolphin and whale-watching companies. After ordering Chantal off to the shower that morning he’d called in a favour with a friend who ran the mooring services for the Port Stephens region. Now they had a couple of hours for lunch before he’d need to leave the area and head back to Newcastle.
A spread of smoked salmon, bagels with cream cheese and fresh fruit covered the table that sat in front of the curved leather and wood seat. He’d also popped a bottle of champagne, which sat in a silver ice bucket.
‘Did you know the dolphins were going to be there?’ Chantal asked, taking a hearty bite out of a bagel. Cream cheese spilled forward, coating her upper lip, and her pink tongue darted out to capture it.
He remembered her obsession with bagels back from when they were at Weeping Reef together. Despite being slim as a rail, she’d devoured the doughy delights every morning for breakfast. Always with cream cheese. God, he had to stop looking at her mouth. She dived in for another bite, her eyes fluttering shut as she savoured the flavour.
‘You never know for sure. But there is a group of dolphins who live in the area, so it’s common to see them.’ He took a swig of his water.
‘They live here?’
‘Not specifically in Nelson Bay, but in the general Port Stephens area. It’s a big pod too—about eighty dolphins, I think.’
‘Wow.’ She sighed. ‘They’re so beautiful. I’ve always wanted to do one of those swim-with-the-dolphins things.’
‘They’re a lot of fun. The bottlenecks especially—they’re very playful.’
Her eyes widened. ‘You’ve done it? I’m so jealous.’
‘Yeah.’ Brodie nodded, a memory flickering. ‘We did it as kids once… me and Lydia. Before her accident.’
For a moment he wondered if she would dig further, ask about Lydia’s accident. Instead she said, ‘What do they feel like?’
‘They’re smooth—kind of rubbery.’
‘What do they eat?’
He laughed, taken by her intense curiosity. ‘Fish, squid… that kind of thing.’
Lying back on her chair, she kicked her legs out and crossed her ankles. A contented sigh escaped her lips. ‘I’m so full. That salmon was amazing.’
‘You’re welcome.’
She turned her head, shielding her eyes with her hand. ‘This is the best celebration I could have asked for… although it’s not a done deal. I might flunk the next audition.’
‘Always thinking positive—that’s what I like about you,’ he teased.
‘Nothing wrong with being realistic.’ She sighed. ‘I’m trying to protect myself, I guess. I don’t want to be disappointed if I don’t get it.’
‘If they want a second audition then they obviously saw something they liked.’
‘That’s true.’ She twirled a strand of hair around one finger.
‘You’re immensely talented—you know that, right?’ He chewed on his own bagel, concentrating on the food so that he could hide the conflicting emotions doing battle within him.
‘Let’s just hope the Harbour Dance Company agree with you.’ She paused. ‘I’ve had fun staying on the boat.’
He’d hoped to hear with you emerge from her lips, but she stopped short. Stop waiting to hear that she’s fallen for you. She hasn’t.
‘I’ve had fun too.’
He half-heartedly waggled his brows and she swatted at him, laughing.
‘I don’t just mean the sex, Brodie. I mean I’ve had fun… hanging out.’
‘Hanging out? What are we? Teenagers?’ he teased.
She shook her head. ‘Way to make a girl feel awkward. Can’t a friend give another friend a compliment?’
Friend. There it was again—the invisible barrier between them. He’d broken his rule by sleeping with her in the first place. Funny thing was, that rule had always been in place to preserve the friendship, so that when he rejected any serious advances the other person wouldn’t get hurt. He’d never counted on it going the other way—not when he had his priorities sorted out and they certainly didn’t include a serious relationship.
‘I prefer my compliments to be of the physical variety.’
‘You’re not nearly as sleazy as you try to be,’ she said.
‘I’m not trying to be anything.’ It came out way too defensive. Why didn’t he just hold up a flag that said Emotional sore point. Proceed with caution.
‘Yes, you are. You’re hell-bent on being the casual, laid-back, cool-as-a-cucumber fun-time guy.’
‘You seemed to believe I was that guy.’
‘I didn’t know you then.’ Her olive eyes glowed in the bright afternoon light, the golden edges of her hair glinting like precious metal. ‘But I do now.’
> ‘You know what I want you to know.’
‘No way.’ Her lips pursed. ‘You sailed a yacht out here to show me dolphins… you packed a champagne lunch for me. All because I got a second audition—not even a proper job. That’s not a fun-time guy.’
‘What is it, then?’
He was giving her a chance to be honest, to open up to him. But the shutters went down over her eyes and colour seeped into her cheeks. Her hands folded into a neat parcel in her lap. Shutdown mode enabled.
‘You’re a good person, Brodie. I wish we’d got to be real friends sooner.’
There was that F-word again. If he heard it come out of her mouth one more time he was going to throw something. Clearly he was going out of his mind. Girls didn’t rattle him—that wasn’t how he acted. On the scale of annoyance, girl problems ranked somewhere between lining up at the supermarket and typos. In other words it fell into the bundle of crap he didn’t care about.
‘We should probably head back.’ He pushed up from his chair, feeling the burn of the afternoon sun on his legs. ‘Don’t want to make you late for work.’
‘Yeah, that thorn in my side.’ She sighed.
She followed him around as he prepared the boat to return to Newcastle. Her anxious energy irritated him—partially because he felt she had no reason to be anxious, and partially because it made him want to bundle her up and kiss her until she relaxed. The woman had an emotional stronghold over him that was both dangerous and stupid. He already had four women to take care of—five if he counted his mother. He didn’t need a sixth.
‘You don’t need to pick me up from the bar tonight,’ she said once they were back at the helm, with the boat cruising out of the marina.
‘I’ll be there.’ No way he’d let her walk back to the boat on her own.
‘I can stay at the accommodation, if you like.’
‘You’re welcome to stay on the boat until I have to sail back. That hasn’t changed.’
He didn’t look at her, but her nervousness permeated the air. She knew he was angry with her. He had to keep his emotions in check.
‘I want you to stay.’
The Tycoon's Stowaway Page 13
