He shook his head. ‘I was planning to pay for a hotel room for you. I’m thinking about your best interests.’
For some reason his words cut right through her chest, making her head pound and her stomach turn. Safety… protection… best interests. These were all words she’d heard before—the vocabulary of a control freak.
‘Why don’t you trust me, Chantal?’
‘You told me I didn’t have to trust you.’ Her voice wobbled and she cringed. ‘That was part of the deal.’
His eyes flashed; his mouth pulled into a grim line. ‘I thought you’d change your mind.’
‘I haven’t.’
He raked a hand through his hair, the blond strands falling straight back into place over his eyes. He’d come straight from the boat, still wearing his shorts and boat shoes from their trip to Nelson Bay. The black ink of his anchor tattoo peeked out from the rolled-up sleeve of a crisp blue shirt. Damn him for looking so utterly delectable when she wanted nothing more than to throw her shoe at his head.
What had happened to the laid-back Brodie she knew? Did all guys turn into ‘me Tarzan, you Jane’ types as soon as you slept with them?
‘Have you changed your mind about anything?’ He stepped forward, folding his arms across his chest.
‘Like whether or not I should finish my contract here?’ She shrugged, hoping she looked as though she cared a lot less than she did. ‘I’m a professional dancer. I can’t quit.’
‘That wasn’t what I was talking about.’
‘What are you talking about, then, Brodie? Because I sure as hell have no idea.’
His jaw twitched, and the muscles in his neck corded as he drew a long breath. ‘What about your desire to do everything on your own?’
‘That’s how I need to do it.’
At least that was what she’d believed most of her life. But somehow she didn’t feel so convinced any more. Remember what happened when you got married… You trusted him and look how that turned out. Mum did it all on her own—you can too.
‘Why?’ He took the last few steps towards her until there was no space between them and his hands gripped her shoulders. ‘Why do you think you need to do everything on your own?’
‘Because it’s safer that way.’ She shut her eyes, wishing her brain would stop registering the scent of him and firing up all the parts she needed to stay quiet at the moment. ‘I’m sick of being a charity case. I want to do something on my own that I can be proud of. I need it.’
‘You can be independent without pushing away everyone who feels something for you.’
Blood rushed in her ears. The roaring made it hard to think straight. ‘Are you trying to tell me you feel something for me?’
That was exactly what he was saying, wasn’t it? He did have feelings for her. Why would he keep chasing her if he didn’t?
‘What if I do?’
‘That would go against our agreement.’ Her olive-green eyes were wide, like two shimmering moons, begging him not to continue.
If he admitted to caring about her and she rejected him what would happen next? He’d never see her again. The thought of a life without her seemed pointless. Colour-less. Dull.
‘We’re supposed to be friends,’ she whispered.
‘We are.’
‘That’s all I have room for. I don’t want a relationship right now. I want to get my career sorted. I’ve worked my whole life for this. I’m not stopping now.’
‘You do know you can have more than one thing in life, don’t you?’ He couldn’t help the words coming out with a derisive tone. How could she be so narrow-minded?
Hypocrite.
‘Can you? I thought family was your one thing.’
She stepped backwards and he let her slip out of his grip.
‘Someone told me I was too scared to invest in anyone outside my family. Maybe that person was right.’
‘No. Family should come first for you.’ Chantal shook her head. ‘Go back to Queensland, Brodie. Go home.’
‘Who’s scared now?’ He hated himself for the waver in his voice. She’d managed to do what no other woman ever had—she’d made him feel something. She’d made him want to stay.
‘I am, Brodie. I’m scared.’ She looked at him with a blank face. ‘I’m scared for my career, so that’s what I’m focusing on right now. Please don’t follow me.’
With that she turned and left him standing in the middle of the parking lot. Her silhouette faded into the night and every nerve ending in his body fired, telling him to go after her. But she’d made it clear her life had no room for a relationship. No room for him.
If she wasn’t going to let him in there was no point hanging around. He was stupid to have even tried. Of course she wanted nothing more from him. How had he fallen into that trap? He was supposed to walk away—it was what he always did.
‘You’re a goddamn idiot,’ he muttered, unsure if he were talking to himself or to her.
By Friday, Brodie was ready to sail home. His travel bag was packed, but he hadn’t been able to convince himself to go. Instead he’d headed back to Sydney, in the hope that a change of scenery could pull him out of his incredible funk.
The view from the boat should have cured any bad feelings he had, and the sunlight sparkling off the water and the girls in their tiny shorts and tank tops was his definition of nirvana. Not today, though.
Humid air clung to his sweat-drenched body. He’d hoped going for a run would allow him to burn off the agitated energy that had kept him awake the last few nights. It hadn’t. Since then he’d called the office, video chatted with the family, and run until his legs trembled. Now what?
The shower beckoned. He stripped, hoping the rush of cool water against his sizzling skin might ease the confusing thoughts in his head. But the normally soothing sound of water against tiles gave him space to think… something he needed like a hole in the head.
He was officially broken.
A noise caught his attention. The vibration of his phone against the benchtop, sounding like insects buzzing. Who would be calling him? The guy who managed his office had already told him to butt out until his holiday was officially up. Apparently things were running like clockwork, and he’d told Brodie he sounded as if he hadn’t had any rest at all.
Brodie rubbed his eyes and tilted his face up to the spray. Exhaustion weighed down his limbs. No wonder… He was pretty sure he’d seen each hour tick over on his clock last night.
What if Chantal was calling?
He wrenched at the taps, shutting off the water, and stepped out of the shower. He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist, checking the ID flashing up on his phone. Of course it wasn’t her. She’d made it damn clear there was nothing between them. That didn’t stop the way his body sprang to action at the thought of her contacting him.
Pathetic.
‘Hello?’
‘Hey, man.’ Scott’s voice boomed over the line. ‘Want to grab a drink?’
The last thing he wanted was to see Scott face to face. His friend would know in an instant that things had gone south. ‘I’m actually having a little time out at the moment.’
‘You’re back in Queensland?’
‘No,