‘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.