Читать книгу The Complete Red-Hot And Historical Collection - Ким Лоренс, Kelly Hunter - Страница 44

THOUGH SUMMER HAD drawn to a close a few weeks back, the air still hung heavy with humidity. Brodie stood by the railing outside the bar, waiting for Chantal to appear. He’d spent a good five minutes deciding whether or not to go in, but the temptation of hauling her off the stage had been too much to bear, and he didn’t want to show her he was having doubts about his feelings towards the temporary nature of their arrangement.

Instead he waited outside, fending off requests for cigarettes, wishing that somehow Chantal had wriggled her way out of the contract. He wasted the time away by texting Ellen, hoping that she didn’t hold his absence against him.

‘I’m with someone.’

Chantal’s voice caught him by surprise. He whipped around and saw her backing away from a big guy whose tank top said ‘Team Bogan’. The guy looked at Brodie, sizing him up.

‘See.’ Chantal gestured to Brodie. ‘This is my boyfriend—Axl.’

Brodie raised a brow. Axl… really? The guy lumbered away, distracted by a group of girls who didn’t appear to have boyfriends waiting for them. Chantal used the opportunity to jog over to him, and sling her arm around his waist.

‘Axl was the best you could do?’ He shook his head. ‘Never picked you for a Guns N’ Roses fan.’

‘Sorry.’ She laughed, holding on to him as they made their way out of the bar’s parking lot. ‘The band was playing one of their songs as I was walking out. Mum used to listen to them all the time when I was young.’

‘Better than the music I listened to growing up. Mum was a huge country fan—I hated it.’

Stars winked at them from the inky sky. Away from the hustle and bustle of Sydney the darkness wasn’t diluted by the glow from skyscrapers and headlights. It reminded him of home—of the outdoorsy beauty of Queensland he’d grown to love after returning home from Weeping Reef.

‘Have you talked to the guy who runs the bar about skipping out early?’

Chantal shook her head. ‘No, and I haven’t heard back about my audition yet, so I’m not giving up a paying job if there isn’t something else to go to.’

‘I’ll lend you some money.’

‘Over my dead body.’ She tucked close against him as they walked, melting into him though her tone still revealed a touch of hesitation. ‘It’s kind of you to offer but I don’t take loans—especially when I’m unsure how long it will take me to pay it back.’

‘I know you’re good for it.’

‘Doesn’t matter. I’ll finish out this contract, see where I am, and figure out my next move.’

‘Why are you so against asking for help?’ he asked drily.

‘I don’t need charity.’

They walked through the yacht club and down to where his boat was docked. On board, they sat on the cosy leather-lined seat that curved around the deck. Chantal found a spot next to him, sitting with her head and shoulders resting against his chest. He draped his arm over her and skimmed his fingers along her stomach. It was frighteningly intimate and comfortable. Familiar.

‘Haven’t you heard the saying Many hands make light work?’

‘Some of those hands get burned,’ she said. ‘I prefer doing things on my own. That’s how it was growing up and I like my independence. Nothing wrong with that.’

‘There’s a difference between being independent and being stubborn to the point of self-detriment.’

‘Asking for help hasn’t ever got me anywhere to date. I trust the wrong people.’

‘Do you think it’s wrong to trust me?’

‘I trust you as much as I’ll ever trust anyone, but I’m still my own person. I do my own thing. That’s why this isn’t anything but two friends enjoying one another while it lasts.’

‘Right.’

Raucous laughter floated on the breeze from a neighbouring boat. Chantal shifted against him, stroking his knuckles with her fingertips. It was a light touch, casual in its intimacy, and yet it flooded him with awareness. She was far from being out of his system. If anything, she’d burrowed herself deep without even trying. Without wanting to.

He couldn’t be falling for her—not when he had a life and a family in Queensland to get back to and she had a dream to follow. Different worlds. Disconnected goals. They were wrong, wrong, wrong.

‘Was everything really okay with your family today?’

A lump lodged in his throat. He didn’t want to talk about that now—not when Chantal had made it clear that there was nothing real between them. But then he would be a hypocrite, wouldn’t he? He couldn’t berate her for not accepting help if she was willing to lend an ear and he didn’t take it.

‘Nothing major. Lydia was having a bad day. It happens every so often.’ He rested his cheek against the top of her head, breathing in the scent of her faded flowery perfume and his coconut shampoo in her hair. ‘Ellen was on her own, trying to deal with it. But she’s only a kid herself—she needed help.’

‘Ellen’s the youngest, right?’

‘Yeah. She’s a good kid—they all are.’ He swallowed against the lump in his throat. ‘After the accident I was the one who looked after Lydia on a day-to-day basis. She listens to me. Whereas she’s big sister to the other girls and yet feels like she can’t do anything for them because of her paraplegia.’

‘I bet she’s grateful she had a big brother to take care of her.’

‘She would have preferred to have Dad around. If that didn’t make him come home nothing would. But the world didn’t stop turning because she couldn’t walk any more.’ He sighed. ‘Mum still had to bring home the bacon… the girls still had to get to school. I was the one who made sure she got to her appointments, made sure she did her exercises, helped her while she was still adjusting to her wheelchair.’

‘That must have been tough.’ Her hand curled into his and she snuggled farther down against him.

‘It’s hard to be away from them. Mum’s always working, and Dad just…’ He shook his head. ‘The guy can barely manage a call on their birthdays. He’ll disappear for months at a time, then show up out of the blue—usually because he needs money.’

‘Where does he disappear to?’

‘Who knows? He’s a painter, the creative type, and he always seems to be off somewhere unreachable. Then he comes back, tries to make amends with Mum, and it goes well for a while until he asks for money.’ Brodie cursed under his breath. ‘Every time it happens he breaks the girls’ hearts all over again… Mum’s included.’

‘And your mum’s okay with him coming and going?’

‘Not really—she did divorce him after all. But she puts her feelings for him before the girls.’ Brodie laughed, the sound sharp and hollow. ‘See? I told you my family wasn’t picture perfect.’

‘You don’t have to be the parent. You do know that, right?’

But he did have to. Whether he liked it or not, he was responsible for looking after those girls. They relied on him—on his advice, on his life experience, on his care. Especially Lydia.

‘You shouldn’t feel guilty for taking a little time away,’ she continued. ‘You have to live your own life.’

‘I am living my own life. I’m here, away from home, seeing my friends and spending time with you.’

‘And you feel guilty as all hell, don’t you?’

How could she read him like that? Silky hair brushed against his cheek. Her body was warm beneath his hands. How could she read him as though they were far more than friends who happened to be having very casual, very temporary sex?

‘I have a sense of obligation to my family. What kind of person would I be if I didn’t care?’

‘I’m not saying you should stop caring. But there are varying levels—it’s not all or nothing.’ She pushed up, leaning out of his grip. ‘Your dad is the one who needs to step up, here—he needs to commit to being a father.’

‘Only when hell freezes over.’

‘Have you ever talked to him about it?’

‘No point.’ He shook his head, tightening his grip on her.

In that moment she anchored him. Her questions were digging deep within him. Unlocking the emotion he’d tried to keep buried, allowing him to feel angry about his father. To see that he’d been suppressing the hurt in order to be a rock for his sisters and his mother.

‘Why? Do you think he deserves to shirk his responsibilities and have you pick up the pieces?’

‘Of course not. But that doesn’t mean I can let the girls go without.’

‘No, but maybe you’re in a position to try and push your father in the right direction.’ She sighed. ‘It might allow you to have a little more breathing room… to have the life that you want.’

‘I have everything I want.’ He gestured to the air. ‘Got my boat, got my business. I don’t want anything else.’

‘Don’t you?’

Pink flashed in front of his eyes as her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. She played with the ends of her hair, twirling the strands into a bun and then letting them spiral out around her shoulders.

‘Is that all you want out of life?’

Wrapping her arms around herself, she shivered. Tiny ridges of goosebumps patterned her skin.

‘Let’s go inside. I don’t want you getting sick.’ He held out a hand and she took it without hesitation. ‘Although maybe that would be a good way to get you out of that contract.’

‘I’m not getting out of the contract.’ She followed him to the kitchen, perching herself on a bar stool. ‘I have a sense of obligation too, you know.’

‘There’s no doubt in my mind about that.’

‘Why do you say it like that?’

‘Your career before everything else. I have no doubt it’s the most important thing in your life.’

‘It is.’ She tilted her head, watching him as he flicked on the coffee machine and pulled two cups from the cupboard. ‘What’s wrong with that?’

‘I think your career is like my family. It’s important… sometimes too important.’

‘So you agree you need space from your family?’ She grinned, swinging her legs.

‘That’s about as much agreement as you’ll get from me.’

‘You’re so stubborn!’

‘Ha! You should take a look in the mirror some time.’

The coffee machine hissed, steam billowing out of the nozzle in coils of white condensation. Black liquid ran into the cups, filling the air with a rich, roasted scent. He splashed milk into the first cup and handed it to Chantal. A grin spread over her lips and she blew on the steam, waiting for him to make the first move.

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 and 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?