The Tycoon's Stowaway(18)

'I can do the basics. My mum worked long hours too, so I had to fend for  myself a fair bit.' She swallowed down the guilt that curled in her  stomach whenever she thought about her mother. 'I can do a basic pasta …   salads. That kind of thing.'

'What does your mother do?'

'She's a cleaner.' Chantal bit down on her lip, wishing the memories  weren't still so vivid. 'I don't think she's ever worked less than two  jobs her whole life.'

His eyes softened. Damn him. She didn't want his sympathy.

'What about your dad?'

'He left when I was ten.' She shrugged, stabbing her fork at a lettuce leaf more forcefully than she needed to.

'Siblings?'

'None. Probably sounds strange to someone with such a big family.' Good-turn the conversation back to him.

'Yep-four sisters and never a moment of peace.'

She envied the contented smile on his lips. It was obvious his family  was important to him. She'd bet they would be close, despite his  father's absence. The kind of family who had big, raucous Christmas  gatherings and loads of funny traditions. So different from her. They'd  been so poor at one point that her mother had wrapped her Christmas  present-a Barbie doll from the local second-hand shop-in week-old  newspaper. The memory stabbed at her heart, scything through the softest  part of her. The part she kept under lock and key.

'It drove me nuts, growing up,' he continued. 'But I became amazingly proficient at hair braids and reading bedtime stories.'

Her stomach churned. 'You'll make a great dad one day.'

A dark shadow passed over his face. The wall dropped down in front of  him so fast and so resolutely that Chantal wondered what she'd said. A  sardonic smile twitched the corner of his lips. Okay, so there were some  things that put Brodie in a bad mood.

'I don't want the white-picket-fence deal.' He drained the rest of his  wine and reached for the bottle to empty the remaining contents into his  glass. 'Marriage, kids, pets …  not for me. I've got enough  responsibility now.'

'Cheers to that.' They clinked glasses again.

He quirked a brow. 'But you got married.'

'Just because I did it once it doesn't mean I'll do it again.' Her cheeks burned. 'That debacle is over for good.'

The wine had loosened her limbs a little, and it seemed her tongue as  well. She probably shouldn't have accepted the shot of whisky one of the  other dancers had offered her before she went onstage. But she'd so  desperately needed Dutch courage to force her back onstage.

'Sounds like there's a story there.'

'Maybe.' She shrugged.

Could she claw back her words? Brodie didn't need to see the ugly bits  of her life …  especially not after she'd gone to such efforts to hide  them. Then again, did it really matter?

'I've seen you naked, remember.' He grinned.

How could she possibly forget?

'No point keeping secrets from me now.'

She took a deep breath and decided to throw caution to the wind. After  all, he knew her most devastating secret: that her career had turned to  crap. What harm could another failure do if it was out in the open?                       
       
           



       

'The short version is that I was young, naive and I married the wrong guy.'

'And the full version?'

'I married my agent,' she said, rolling her eyes and taking another sip  of her wine. 'What a bloody cliché. He seemed so worldly, and I was a  wide-eyed baby. We met a month after I left Weeping Reef, and he  promised he'd make me a star. He did-for a while-but then he started  treating me like his student rather than his wife. He wanted everything  his way, all the time.'

Brodie held his breath …  Dammit. If she asked, wild horses wouldn't keep  him from finding the dude and teaching him a very painful, very  permanent lesson. Fists clenched, he drew in a slow breath.

'I couldn't take it. The constant criticism, the arguing … ' Her olive  eyes glittered and she shook her head. 'Nothing I did met his  expectations-he smothered me. Pushed all my friends away until I could  only rely on him. I couldn't forgive that.'

'Good.' The word came out through clenched teeth and Brodie realised his  jaw had started to ache. 'A guy like that doesn't deserve your  forgiveness. What an arse.'

'Yeah, major arse.' Her lips twisted into a grimace. 'We ended up  separating, and the divorce went through about six months ago. I've been  trying to find work but I keep bombing out.'

'Why do you think that is?'

'I don't know.' She shook her head, despair etched into her face. 'Maybe  after being told for so long that I don't work hard enough, that I'm  not disciplined enough, I've started to believe it … '

'That's complete crap and you know it.' He gripped the edge of his seat,  knuckles white from lack of circulation. How could anyone not see the  lengths that she went to in order to achieve her goals? She deserved  every success in the world.

She managed a wan smile. 'So there you have it: the failings of the  not-so-great Chantal Turner. I can't keep a career and I can't keep a  man. I can't even book a goddamn dancing job without getting myself into  trouble.'

'It's not your fault,' he ground out. His stomach pitched, and the need  to bundle her up in his arms thrashed like a wild beast inside him.

'Oh, but it is.'

She drained another glass of wine. Was that two or three? Not that it  mattered. He'd keep her safe on the boat tonight. He'd protect her.

'I've done all these things myself. My judgment-my errors.'

'You can ask for help.'

She shook her head, dark locks flicking around her shoulders. 'No. I got  myself in trouble-I'll get myself out. Besides, I'd need to trust  people. I can't do that.'

Her vulnerability shattered him. She'd worked for everything she  had-chased it and made sacrifices for it. It wasn't fair that she was  here, feeling as if she'd stuffed everything up. He wanted to erase the  pain from her voice, smooth the tension from her limbs and barricade her  from the dangers of the world.

'You can't go back to that accommodation.' It wasn't a question, and it wasn't a suggestion.

'I need to stay somewhere, Brodie. I need to find a damn supermarket and  cook myself a meal.' She shook her head. 'I need to get my life  together.'

He wondered if, in her head, she'd told herself that she couldn't rely  on him. But he wanted her to …  Against his better judgment, he wanted her  to lean on him.

'Stay here-at least for now. That will give you time to find something  else …  something safer.' He grabbed her hand across the table, cursing  internally when his blood pulsed hard and hot at the contact. 'I'll keep  the boat docked here and you'll be close to the bar. Then we can wander  around during the day. Have fun. Pretend life isn't such a pain in the  butt.'

A small smile pulled at her lips as she retracted her hand from his grip. 'I don't know … '

'You don't have to trust me.'

Her eyes roamed his face before she shrugged her acceptance. 'So that's  days and evenings sorted. What did you have planned for nights?'

He swallowed. It would be easy to come up with a list of things they  could do at night, and most of them would make excellent use of her yoga  flexibility. Hell, how would he keep his distance after what they'd  shared last night? He didn't need things getting messy between them, and  he certainly didn't want to do anything that would make him lose her  again.

'What about nights? We can watch movies, chill out on the deck. Keep it PG-13.'                       
       
           



       

Totally chivalrous-he was simply being a good friend. Keeping an eye out for her. Yeah, right.

She smirked. 'Does PG-13 include kissing?'

'It might.'

'Heavy petting?'

'That sounds like it could lead to something a little more X-rated.'

'I want to know what kind of tricks you might try to pull-what loopholes you might use.'

'If I want something I make it happen. Loopholes or no loopholes.'

'Yes, you certainly do.' Her eyes flashed, pupils widening as she shifted in her seat.

Her foot brushed his leg under the table. Had she done it on purpose? He  couldn't read her face-couldn't tell whether her flirtatious tone was  meant to bait him or mock him. She pushed her plate away and leant back  in her chair. One bronzed leg crossed over the other and the hem of her  dress crept up to reveal precious inches of thigh.

'But you can't blame a girl for trying to protect herself,' she said.

'Why do you think you need to protect yourself around me?'

'To make sure history doesn't repeat itself.' She stretched her arms,  dragging the dress farther up her thighs. If she kept up the pace she'd  be naked soon, and he'd be on his knees. Not a bad thing, given the way  she'd cried his name last night.

Cut it out. You're supposed to be helping her-not plotting her future orgasms.

'No more dancing?'

'You're far too tempting on the dance floor. All the girls at the resort  thought so,' she said. Her eyes focused on something distant, something  lost in memory. 'You're a magnet for the ladies.'