The Tycoon's Stowaway(29)

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, not yet.' He'd been so rattled by the encounter with Chantal that  he'd hightailed it back up the coast to Sydney without telling anyone.  Not even Scott.

'Everything okay?'

'Nothing major,' he lied, padding to his bedroom.

'Work problems?'

He paused, unsure how much he wanted to reveal. But Scott's pushing meant he knew something was up. 'Not exactly.'

A chuckle came down the line. 'Let me guess-it starts with C and ends with L.'

'Spelling was never my strong suit.' He tried to make light of Scott's words but it sounded hollow, even to him.

'What happened?'

'I don't know. One minute it was fine-we were fine-and the next … ' He  dropped down onto the bed and rubbed his temple with his free hand. 'It  was supposed to be convenient. Fun.'

'Love is anything but convenient,' Scott said sagely.

'I didn't say I loved her.'

'Didn't need to. Why else would you be hiding out?'                       
       
           



       

Scott had a point. He'd run like a scared little kid, tail between his  legs, all because she'd drawn the line at sex. In what universe would he  be upset by that? It was guilt-free-for once he didn't have to be the  bad guy.

'I don't know if I love her.'

'Are you feeling miserable?'

'Yes.'

'Miserable' was probably a few notches down from the aching in his chest  that had appeared when he'd sailed out of Newcastle that morning.

'Confused?'

'Hell, yeah.'

'Lost?' Scott didn't bother waiting for an answer. 'That's what love feels like.'

'It blows.'

Scott laughed. 'It only blows before you sort things out. Then it's  pretty bloody amazing. Kinda funny how the tables have turned.'

'I'm not laughing.'

He wanted to throw something-anything that might help him release some  of the deadening weight in his limbs. 'So what's your plan of attack?'

'Plan?'

'To get Chantal back. Jeez-keep up, Brodie.'

And there was the rub. 'It's hard to get someone back if you didn't have them in the first place.'

'Did you tell her how you felt?' Scott sounded as though he were explaining something to a dumb animal for the tenth time.

'Well, no.'

'Did you even try?'

Brodie groaned inwardly, this was way out of his comfort zone. He was  used to being the one giving advice-as he'd done with Scott not that  long ago. Why couldn't he seem to sort out his own situation?

'I kind of went a little …  caveman.'

'Wow-and you're wondering why she didn't give you anything?'

'She didn't want it. I could tell.' He remembered the look in her eyes, almost as if she was pleading with him to leave.

'She's got a thing about being independent-you can't change that.' Scott sighed. 'She needs her space.'

'I know.'

He rubbed a hand over his face. Of course she wanted to be her own  person, but that didn't stop him wanting to protect her. Was it  completely hopeless?

'How did I screw it up so bad?'

'Is she worth the pain?'

'Yes.'

The word slipped out before he'd even had time to weigh up possible  answers. Uttering that one little word had released the tension from his  neck and lifted the heaviness from his shoulders. Was it possible that  he was in love with Chantal Turner?

'What should I do?'

'Aren't you supposed to be the lady whisperer?' Scott teased.

'I'm lost, man. She makes me question everything and I've got no clue what to do next.'

'What do you do when you wipe out?'

Brodie smiled-he could always count on Scott to put something in his  terms. 'Are you trying to tell me I need to give it another go?'

'I'm not trying to tell you-I am telling you. I know Chantal is tough.  You need to let her know how you feel-she's not great with ambiguity.'

'What do I say?'

'You'll figure it out. But I would start with an apology. There's no excuse for going caveman.'

Brodie put the phone down and stared at it long and hard. He would  figure it out …  But having Chantal meant sacrificing other things. To be  with her he would need to be away from his family more. He couldn't  expect her to drop her dreams of being a dancer and move to Queensland  with him.

If this thing between him and Chantal was going to work then other things needed to change too.

He reached for the phone and sucked in a huge breath, dialling his father's number quickly, before he could change his mind.





CHAPTER THIRTEEN


HIGHWAY SCENERY BLURRED past as Sydney faded away in Chantal's rearview  mirror. Her old car struggled to keep up with the speed limit, but she  was moving …  and that was all that mattered.

Last night she'd stood tall in the face of criticism from the bar  manager, keeping her head high and knowing that she would make it  through to the end of the contract like the professional she was.  Knowing that, no matter how dire her situation, she was supporting  herself.

Thoughts of Brodie were insistent, but she cranked up the music to drown them out.

After spending the morning at her audition for the Harbour Dance Company  she'd gone looking for a cheap apartment to rent. Luck must have been  on her side. A tiny one-bedroom place had been vacant for a few weeks  and the owner was desperate to get someone in. As she'd signed the  paperwork a call had come from the dance company, congratulating her on a  successful audition.                       
       
           



       

Now she was on her way to visit her mother and collect all the boxes  she'd stored there. Everything had turned out the way she'd wanted it  to-once her bar contract was over it would all be perfect. So why didn't  she have a sense of accomplishment and relief?

Brodie.

He'd been the only thing on her mind since she'd walked away. It had  barely been three days and already there was a gaping hole in her life  where he'd inserted himself in their short time together. She missed his  cheeky smile, the way his arms felt as they squeezed her against him,  his lips. The unmanageable desire that materialised whenever he was  around. How could she have let herself fall so hard? So quickly and so  deeply?

Her childhood home came into view as Chantal rounded the corner at Beach  Road, where blue water lined the quiet coast of Batemans Bay. Home  sweet home.

The roads were empty. Most of the tourists from Canberra would have gone  home by now. Work would be slow for her mum …  the motels and  self-contained units that dotted the shoreline wouldn't need extra  cleaning services now that summer was over. Hopefully she still had a  gig with the local high school to at least cover rent and bills. Though  there would be little left over after the essentials were covered.