The Tycoon's Stowaway(31)

Chantal: two. Brodie: zero.

Giggling came from a couple walking past the boat-the sound of two  people in love. He looked away, focusing on the dials in the cockpit. He  knew he should sail home, but something had stopped him from preparing  the yacht. The beautiful views and the freedom of sailing felt wasted  without Chantal. No matter how opulent the scenery, it was marked by her  absence.

He turned his phone over in his hands. He could call her, invite her for a drink. Apologise for pushing too hard. Then what?

Those three little words hung over him like a dead weight. Three. Little. Words.

They changed everything. He'd never loved any woman before-he hadn't  thought he had any love left over after his family had taken their  share. But she seemed to pull emotion from him that he'd never even  known existed. It had forced him to do things he'd never thought he  could …  like confront his father.

The Princess 56 was waiting for him, ready and willing. It sat there  patiently, needing him only to make a decision. He could either find out  where Chantal was or he could sail home.

No, he wasn't going home without her.

Scott was right-he had to try again. He had to be sure there wasn't a  chance for them. His attraction to her had always been more than he'd  admitted. More than her gorgeous legs, her dancing, the sex. It was  something so frighteningly intense and real that he'd been unable to  process it until it was too late.

Brodie was about to pick up his phone to dial her number when it buzzed. Lydia's smiling face flashed up on the screen.

'Hey, Lyds.'

'Hey, Brodie.' There was hesitation in his sister's voice. 'So …  Dad called.'

'He did?' Something lifted in Brodie's chest. His father had ended their  call earlier with a promise to get in touch with the girls more often,  though Brodie still had his doubts. 'What did he say?'

'He's coming to visit,' Lydia replied. 'Well, he says that, but we'll see.'

'Would you like him to visit?'

'Yeah, I guess.' She hesitated. 'It would be good to see him.'

He sincerely hoped his father lived up to his promise. He'd got a sense  that his father's attitude had changed-there'd seemed to be something  more receptive about him that had been lacking in the past. Something  down in his gut told him that their conversation had been a shifting  point for the older man-a reality check that his family needed him. That  his daughters needed him.

Brodie could get by on his own, but he had plans to make Chantal a part  of his life more permanently-and that meant he couldn't always play the  role of pseudo father. The girls needed to know they could rely on their  real father as well. Hopefully this was the beginning of all that.

Lydia caught his attention by launching into a new problem-something to  do with Ellen and how she was trying to mother her, even though she was  the youngest sibling. But Brodie was no longer listening.

A figure hovered nearby on the jetty. Long legs, long dark hair.

Chantal.

'Brodie, are you listening to me?'

Lydia's indignant tone brought his attention back to the call. 'Sorry, Lyds. I have to go.'

He stepped out onto the upper deck and tried to get a better look at the figure. Was it really her?

'But I need your help.' His sister sounded as though she were about to cry. 'That's why I called you.'                       
       
           



       

'I'll help you. But I need to do something for me first.'

She sniffled. 'What's more important than talking to your sister?'

He jogged over to the stairs, taking them as quickly as his legs would allow. 'Love.'

'Is this about that girl?' Lydia asked, her voice returning to normal.

'It is.'

'You love her?'

'I do, Lyds. I'm going to ask her if she loves me back.'

'Dibs on being the maid of honour,' Lydia said. 'Call me later. Tell me everything.'

'I promise.'

Brodie rushed to the jetty and looked around. Late afternoon had given  way to early evening and the sun was lowering itself into the water  along the horizon. Autumn had started weeks ago but it had only now  taken on its first chill of the year, and the cool air prickled his  exposed forearms.

People milled about, stopping to take photos of the yachts. Dodging a  father towing two small children, Brodie jogged to where he'd seen the  figure standing. He couldn't locate Chantal amongst the swarming tourist  crowd.

The girl with dark hair had disappeared-had it even been her?

He walked up past the yacht club entrance, past the other boats, until he neared the hotel that sprawled along the water's edge.

He was going crazy. His imagination was playing him for a fool. Why  would she come to him when he'd stuffed things up? He hadn't even been  able to tell her that he loved her. She deserved better than that.

He headed back to the boat, turning his phone over in his hands. His  thumb hovered over the unlock button, ready to dial her number. As he  walked across the boarding ramp and raked a hand through his hair he  stopped to rub the tense muscles in his neck.

'Brodie?'

Chantal walked out from the cabin, hands knotted in front of her. Long  dark strands tumbled around her shoulders, the messy waves scattered by  the gentle breeze. A skirt with blue and green shades bleeding into one  another swirled around her ankles with each step. A long gold chain  weighted by a blue stone glinted around her neck. She looked like a  mermaid …  a siren. A fantasy.

'What are you doing here?' he asked, his heart hammering against his ribs.

'I thought you'd gone back to Queensland.'

She bundled her hair over one shoulder, toying with the ends as he'd  noticed her doing whenever she was anxious. He noticed everything about  her now.

'I was supposed to.'

'Why did you stay?'

Light flickered across her face-a ray of hopefulness that dug deep into his chest.

'Unfinished business.'

'With who?'

The question emerged so quietly it might have come from his imagination. But her lips had moved; her eyes were burning into his.

'With you, Chantal. Why do you have to make everything so hard?'

A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. 'I'm difficult, I guess.'

'You are.'

He rubbed at the back of his neck, wishing that his body would calm down  so he could be in control of the conversation. Instead his central  nervous system conspired against him by sending off signals left, right  and centre. There was something about the mere presence of her that had  him crackling with electricity. Those parts of him had been dead before  her.

'I'm sorry I pushed you away.' She drew a deep breath. 'I'm sorry I  wouldn't let you help. I've been afraid of letting anyone close-not just  after my divorce but for a long time.'

'You do seem to have trouble accepting help … '

What if he didn't accept her apology? It would be her own fault. She'd  been stubborn as a bull from day one, determined to keep a wall between  her and the outside world. Only now she wanted to tear down anything  standing between her and Brodie. She wanted to remove all barriers-even  the ones that had been there so long that they had cemented themselves  in.

'I'm working on it,' she said solemnly, swallowing against a rising tide  of emotion. 'I thought that I needed to do everything on my own because  that's what my mother did. I wanted to be strong …  to be my own person.'

He rubbed a hand along his jaw. 'It's a lonely way to live.'

'It is.' She nodded. 'I've been so concerned with making everyone think I  was leading this successful life that I put no time into my reality. I  only cared about my career, and I almost lost the best thing that ever  happened to me.'

'Which is … ?' His green eyes reached hers, the burning stare making her knees shake and her limbs quiver.

'You, Brodie. You're an amazing friend, and I lost you once because I  refused to acknowledge my feelings. I'm not doing it again.'                       
       
           



       

She stepped towards him, resisting the urge to reach out and flatten her palms against the soft cotton shirt covering his chest.

'I don't want your friendship, Chantal.' He ground the words out, his teeth gritted, jaw tense.

Her breath hitched. The flight response was tugging against her desire  to fight. No! She'd come too far to turn away-she could make him see how  much she cared. She could make him see that she could change. That she  had changed already, thanks to him.

'You asked me that night if I felt something for you.' Memories  flickered: the sensation of dancing in his arms. The scents. The heat.  The intoxicating attraction. 'I never had the chance to answer and then  you were gone. I spent eight years convincing myself I'd made an error  of judgment. I'd got caught up in the emotion. But I did feel  something.'

'And now?'

'I want you in my life, Brodie. I want to sail away with you. I want  your friendship, but I want more than that too.' She squeezed her eyes  closed for a moment so she would have the courage to speak again. 'I  love you.'