‘Not until Sunday. I think they save the Saturday spot for top-billing dancers.’ She rolled her eyes, as if trying to hide her embarrassment that he’d brought up her crappy job. ‘I was going to hang around in the accommodation there… work on a new routine. That kind of thing.’
‘Stay on the yacht with me. The gang will be back tonight and we can hang out some more.’ He smiled. ‘This would be better than the bar’s accommodation. And safer.’
‘I don’t know if that’s a good idea…’ She sucked on her lower lip, her eyes downcast. ‘I need to focus on dancing right now.’
‘Well, you hardly need practice in that department. I’ve seen you move.’ He reached out and grabbed her hand, wanting to soothe the doubt from her mind. ‘Stay tonight, and if you’re sick of me by the morning then I’ll take you back. No hard feelings.’
‘No hard feelings?’ She looked up at him through curling lashes.
‘None whatsoever.’
‘Okay.’ She nodded. ‘I’ll stay.’
ONCE THEY WERE back in Sydney, and the rest of group had gone their separate ways, Chantal couldn’t help but notice how alone she and Brodie were. Nervous energy crackled through her body, lighting up all her senses as though she were experiencing adrenaline for the first time.
It wasn’t good. She needed to be calm for her audition—she couldn’t stuff it up. If she did then she was fast running out of dance companies and productions to approach. What if she couldn’t find a real job? Would she be stuck working a pole like those other women at the bar? No, she wouldn’t let that happen.
She needed to focus on herself—just herself—no messy emotional entanglements, no betrayal, no disappointment. Just her and the stage.
Closing her eyes, she drew a long breath and held it for a moment before letting the air whoosh out. Breathe in, hold, breathe out. Repeat.
Staying on the yacht with Brodie was a terrible idea—she needed all her focus right now. And Brodie was the kind of guy who could take a woman’s sanity and blow it to smithereens with a single look. He’d done it at Weeping Reef, he’d done it last night, and he would do it again.
But that kiss…
Chantal’s body tingled at the memory. Brodie’s kiss had been exactly what she’d thought kissing would be like as a teenager, before the reality of one too many slobbery guys had shattered the fantasy. Brodie had the kind of kiss that could make a girl’s bones melt.
That’s because he’s had a lot of practice.
‘What’s with the frown?’
Brodie’s voice cut through Chantal’s musings. He stood above her, holding out a hand to help her up from her Lotus Position.
A pair of faded jeans hugged his strong legs and a soft white T-shirt skimmed over the muscles in his shoulders and chest. A leather cuff encircled his right wrist—it looked as though he’d worn it for years. The leather was faded and smooth, and it accentuated the muscles in his arm. But Chantal’s eyes were drawn to the anchor tattoo on the inside of his forearm, as always. She had to resist the urge to reach out and trace it with her fingertip.
‘Where are we going?’ he asked.
‘Huh?’
‘Your audition. Where is it?’
‘Right over there,’ Chantal said, pointing across the Sydney Harbour Bridge. ‘It’s about ten minutes on foot.’
‘Great—let’s go.’ Brodie turned and made his way off the yacht.
‘You don’t need to come with me.’
She grabbed her bag and scrambled after him, her blood pressure shooting up. Having him watch her last night had been humiliating enough. The last thing she needed was for him to witness a more serious rejection today!
‘Don’t you want a little moral support?’
‘No.’ She hitched her dancing bag higher on her shoulder and looked Brodie squarely in the eye. ‘I’ve been doing this on my own for quite a while. I like it that way.’
‘What if I want to watch?’
He said it in such a way that Chantal almost lost her footing on the jetty.
‘You only get to watch when I say so.’
Her blood pulsed hot and fast, flooding her centre with an uncomfortable and entirely distracting throbbing sensation. She didn’t have time to be horny. She had an audition to nail and he was getting in her way.
‘Brodie, I don’t have time to argue.’ She waved him off. ‘Can’t I just meet you afterwards?’
‘If you insist.’ He shrugged and fell into step with her.
The sun beat down on Chantal’s bare shoulders, making her skin sizzle on the outside as much as Brodie was making her sizzle on the inside. Humid air made her skin glisten and frizzed her hair. She yanked the length behind her head and fastened it with a hair tie… Anything to keep her hands busy.
They walked past other yachts, most of them matching the size of Brodie’s boat. It was definitely more upscale than the place where they’d been docked last night. A family to their right boarded a boat that looked twice as big as the house Chantal had grown up in. The mother and daughter had identical long blond ponytails and carried matching designer bags.
‘Do your clientele look like that?’ She nodded towards the family.
‘Rich?’ Brodie gave them a cursory glance and shrugged. ‘Yeah, I guess. People who charter a private yacht tend to have money.’
‘More money than sense,’ she muttered under her breath.
‘It’s certainly not the kind of life I had growing up, that’s for sure.’
Chantal’s curiosity was piqued. Brodie hadn’t shared too much about his family while they’d all lived on the Whitsundays. She’d seen a picture of him with a group of younger girls whom she’d presumed to be his family. It had been pinned up on the wall in the room he’d shared with Scott. But other than that she knew little about his family, or where he was from…
‘I always got the impression you were well off.’
‘Why did you think that?’
She shrugged. ‘I don’t know… You always seemed so relaxed—so… at peace with the world. It seemed like you’d had an easy life.’
Brodie’s blond brows crinkled and they walked in silence for a few minutes. Had she hurt his feelings? She hadn’t intended it, but he seemed to lack the tough outer shell of someone who’d struggled their whole lives failing to keep up with everybody else. Someone like her.
‘We had our ups and downs,’ he said, talking slowly, as though he chose each word with care. ‘My family wasn’t different to anyone else’s.’
‘You never talked about your family much while we were working together.’
‘You and I never had a serious conversation about anything.’ He grinned. ‘Too busy playing cat and mouse.’
‘We did not play cat and mouse.’ She shook her head, but her cheeks filled with roaring heat.
‘You don’t think so? I used to do anything to rile you up, to get your attention. I’d drive you crazy by teasing you about being a stuck-up ballerina.’
‘And I’d try to correct you by explaining the difference between