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The Tycoon's Stowaway(28)

By:Stefanie London


Then she spotted Brodie. He was unmistakable. Sitting in the front row,  arms folded across his chest, biceps on display …  most likely on purpose.  The blood drained from her face and her confidence followed it until  the world tilted beneath her feet.

What the hell was he doing here?

Her music started but her feet were rooted to the ground. Someone shoved  her in the back and she stumbled a little as she walked on stage. The  audience didn't seem to notice. They cheered and hooted as she swung her  hips, pivoting on one foot with a dainty flick of her hair. Under  Brodie's intense stare she might as well have been naked. His eyes  seemed to penetrate her, seeing all that she wanted to conceal.

He didn't smile, and his eyes certainly didn't sparkle the way they  normally did. Had she turned him into this hardened lump? Where was the  free and easy Brodie she'd fallen for?

And had she really fallen for him …  even after everything that had happened today?

Confusion made her head fuzzy, the thoughts clashing in her mind. It was  nothing-just a fling. She shook her head, trying to dislodge the  warring emotions.

The steps of her choreography eluded her, but she had to keep going.  Close to the edge of the stage she felt a hand brush by her-not  Brodie's. A portly man with a heavy beard and mean eyes leered up at  her. Her skin crawled and she backed away, still clinging to her stage  presence though she was sure she'd never danced so terribly in all her  life.

Brodie had leant over to the man, his face red and indecipherable words  falling from his lips. For a moment she would have sworn a fight would  break out, but it didn't. The bass thumped at odd intervals with the  pounding in her head …  everything unravelled. Fast.

She rushed off stage before her time was up, ducking her head at the  curious stares of the other dancers and ignoring the cutting remarks  from the manager as she scuffed her feet into her sneakers and grabbed  her keys.

Outside the change room people swarmed the crowded space of the bar, the  smell of beer and body odour making the air heavy and thick. Swallowing  against the nausea, she pushed through, swatting away invasive hands  and avoiding lingering stares. If she didn't get outside …  Well, it  wouldn't be pretty.

Brodie had got up from his chair. Chantal spotted him in her peripheral  vision but didn't stop. This was all his fault! He shouldn't have come  here thinking he could distract her, making her look like an idiot in  front of all these people. As much as she didn't care about their  opinions, she was still dancing. Forgetting her choreography was  unforgivable.

'Chantal!'

How could she have let herself fall for him? The way he'd acted tonight  proved he was the wrong guy for her. He was just like her ex:  over-protective …  ready to smother her.

She headed towards the stairs, running down them as fast as she could  while dodging two people kissing up against the wall. Downstairs a heavy  metal band thrashed about on stage, the drummer's double kicks  resonating through her, the beat reverberating right down to her bones.

She stumbled outside, tripping over a pair of feet in her desperation  for escape. The cool air rushed into her mouth, was trapped where her  throat was closing in. She gasped, sucking the air in greedily and  forcing each breath down like a pill without water. How could she have  forgotten her choreography? How? She balled her shaking hands, wishing  she could crawl into a crack in the ground and disappear forever.                       
       
           



       

'Chantal!' Brodie's voice rang out in the car park, muted by the music from inside the bar. 'Wait-'

The deep rumble of a motorcycle raced past and drowned out the rest of  his words. For a moment she kept walking, each purposeful step slamming  into the ground. What would happen if she kept going? Tempting as it  was, she couldn't quit-she couldn't. Not when things were turning  around.

'I'm trying to protect you.' His voice carried on the night air.

Chantal whirled around, her body tense, like a snake about to strike.  She locked her arms down by her sides. 'You distracted me up there. I  forgot my steps because I couldn't concentrate on anything but whether  or not you were going to start a fight.'

'I'm here to make sure you're safe-not to distract you.' His brows  pulled down, a crease forming in his forehead. 'I only wanted to make  sure you had somewhere safe to stay.'

'I'm not coming back to the boat.'

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.