Gold Medal Hero

by Jena Petrie

  The hand reappeared, empty. "Nah. Later. You'll have to hear my talk first." In reply to the answering protests of "Oh," and "O-oh?" he only grinned and sipped his water.

  What a tease.

  Next minute Bailey chuckled as he involved the kids again, establishing an unexpected rapport with his audience.

  God, he'd sure sucked her in! Hadn't prepared anything? Bullshit! If he hadn't, he was born into a speaker's role. The pen stilled over her notepad and she glanced down at her jottings on the audience's reactions, every mark heading uphill. Keeping on the lines was impossible while her entire focus rested on this captivating speaker.

  This charismatic speaker, who'd be ideal for her club's anniversary dinner.

  Later when Connor finally showed his Olympic medal, it caught the whole audience's attention and finalized the talk so perfectly, silence filled the room for a moment before Connor called for questions.

  When they finally ran out, Bailey joined the enthusiastic applause. Sure, he'd been impressive but man, did he owe her for that con!

  She'd get her scoop now.

  * * *

  Later, Bailey led Connor to her car. "So, you'd never given a talk to kids that young before, right? Then how did you manage to have them eating out of your hand within the first two seconds?"

  His reply came in a dead serious tone. "But I hadn't. Hooking them in with a tease over the medal was your idea."

  "Yeah, right."

  "I mean it. Your suggestion reminded me of a magician's show I saw recently where the entertainer kept the kids guessing for a whole half hour. Now I owe you." He threw his overnight bag onto the back seat, then opened the passenger door, glanced down at his long legs, and frowned. "This could be interesting."

  "Another challenge," she grinned from the driver's seat, and watched while he folded himself into the small space, then slid the seat back and sighed with obvious relief.

  Pity hers had disappeared, because now he sat close enough for her to breathe in his musky perfume. And see the tiny dark hairs that covered his chin. She turned away rather than look at the eyes of this flirting expert, the one most girls would lust after. This sexy sportsman would not win her over!

  Fingers shaking, she started the car. The newspaper article! What to put in the newspaper article? What did she still need to ask to write the best account ever? Think! Think!

  Dozens of parents had mobbed Connor after his talk, leaving her with only a short time to write the story before deadline.

  And the scoop for the magazine article? She'd never get that either if she freaked out but when could she do an interview for such a long, in-depth story? Skyping would be the only way but in hindsight, it seemed impersonal and totally inadequate.

  After double checking her mirrors, she drove towards the gate. Somehow, she had to relax or she'd get nowhere with an interview. "Back to Sherdon now, is it?"

  "God, no. I'm going to disappear for the weekend first, for some very necessary R and R."

  Disappear? As if pulled by a string, her head swung towards to him. "How? Where?"

  Long legs stretched beside her. "All this public speaking, travelling, meeting new people in every place, has taken its toll. Training starts again on Monday so this weekend's the only time I can take a break." He bit his bottom lip. "If you really want this interview, you'll have to come with me."

  "What?" Her foot slammed on the brake, the car screeched to a halt and her body stilled, but only for a moment before a shudder raced down her spine. With Connor Freeman, the love 'em and leave 'em guy? Hell, no.

  From behind, a horn tooted, jerking feeling back into her hands, her body into action. With a brief glance in the rear-view mirror she moved the car forward again until it reached the school exit.

  Connor swivelled towards her, one hand on the edge of his seat, the other on his thigh. "Listen. Skyping won't give you the sort of background you'd need for a magazine article. To get that, you'll have to spend long periods of time with me."

  "W-with you?" God, now he'd know she was nervous as a kid at a new school.

  "Exactly. After this weekend I'll be back training with little time to spare and in no mood to co-operate."

  "But... you haven't even read anything I've written. And earlier, you—"

  "Ah, but I asked the headmaster, and he praised your writing."

  All very well and she should be bouncing in excitement. Would bounce, except for this bizarre proposal.

  She bit her lip but she had to know. "Why have you changed your mind? You turned up your nose at me earlier, and now you're offering to devote a whole weekend to this interview."

  His shoulders rose and fell in a casual shrug. "One good turn deserves another, don't you think? You helped with my talk, so why wouldn't I try and reciprocate? Besides, it's in my best interests for you to write an accurate account. No good for my reputation otherwise."

  What reputation did he mean? The one as speaker, or the bad-boy pin-up?

  "So we'll work on it over the weekend and set you up to write a saleable article. After it's done you can send me the draft and I'll check the facts. What do you say, huh?"

  Spend the weekend in close proximity to another sportsman? "It's a crazy idea."

  "Crazy? Yeah, crazy fun." His eyebrows flicked up and down, accompanied by the flash of a sexy grin. "If we act like an ordinary couple we won't look conspicuous and in exchange, I'll answer every one of your questions—except those relating to my present personal life which is out of bounds to your readers." He studied her face, no doubt checking she understood. "You'll get your article, Bailey. That's what you want, isn't it?"

  "Ye-es, but if I'm conducting an interview the whole weekend, you won't get the break you need." Like the damn traffic that whizzed past without a gap to let them in. The sooner she deposited Connor at the airport and sent him on his way, the sooner she'd squeeze out of this scary situation.

  "Yeah I will." Another flick of his eyebrows. "I'll have a companion— a win for us both because I hate being alone."

  How many girls did he deceive with that story? Gripping the steering wheel, she seized an opportunity to slip into the traffic. Damn shame that after finding the perfect way to promote herself she couldn't follow through. Another good-looking, sporty guy wanting more from her than her article? Not going there, thank you, not with that Redback spider sitting on her shoulder waiting to bite whenever she forgot. "Your girlfriend will be jealous."

  "Don't have one so there's no problem. Come on, Bailey. Say yes."

  "But you're talking of disappearing, supposedly to some remote place. Just the two of us?"

  "Disappearing from people who know me, I meant." His earnest look flipped her insides right over. "Look. This is the best chance you'll ever have for starting as a magazine writer. A subject you already know, an interviewee you've already met, research you've already done, and two whole days for questions."

  A glance at the sports ground beside them didn't help her decide. Another at the lights didn't, either. Nor one at him. "Where are you going?"

  "Not revealing that until I check they've got a spare booking, which there's no point doing unless you agree to come. If you don't, my destination has to remain secret or I might not get any privacy."

  His mouth hadn't changed from serious, his eyes hadn't lit up in excitement, and his hands hadn't moved from their safe positions. Maybe the rumours were false and he was really a good guy. After all, he'd joked with reporters during T.V. interviews, toyed with the kids during his talk, and when he'd conned her earlier, it had all been in fun.

  Wouldn't this be the best way ever, to get to know him, check out the stories behind his bad boy reputation and really learn what made him tick? "Separate rooms," she stipulated.

  "Oh, well." His deep sigh sounded as impressive as a drama queen's. "If you insist."

  "You bet. And if I want to pull the plug early?"

  "Why would you?"

  "Well..." She bit her lip. "Like, if I've got enough i
nformation."

  "Then I'd have to agree."

  She eased to a stop at the next traffic lights. "Oh, you had to go straight to the airport after the talk! There's no time for me to pack."

  "Sure there is."

  "Then why did you say–?"

  "Another journalist wanting an interview? Believe me, I'd had enough."

  Oh. "So what changed your mind?"

  "You."

  "How? By piling you with compliments?"

  A laugh exploded out of him. A genuine, full-throated laugh this time, his head thrown back and his voice deeper than before.

  Friendlier. Enthralling.

  "No, it was when you said you coxed and I knew I wouldn't have to explain rowing terms to you, which meant the interview wouldn't become the expected chore. I might even enjoy it. And it'll put off my return to an empty flat back in Sherdon."

  Still going to happen, wasn't it?

  "Who knows, the publicity from this article might even bring me a girlfriend."

  Yet his grin suggested this was another tease, and settling down, the last thing on his mind.

  "Anyway, helping a young reporter with her career has a certain amount of appeal."

  Oh, oh. So if the article didn't sell, she'd let him down as well as herself.

  God, proposing a sneak interview with Connor Freeman for a magazine article had been a really crappy idea. Why hadn't she thought it through more carefully? What she should have done was concentrate solely on the newspaper article to convince the boss that well-written stories could be more interesting than those with dirt.

  She smacked the steering wheel. Why didn't the lights turn green, for God's sake? She needed to drop that plan, and Connor, and forget the whole selfish scenario.

  "Come on. Turn around and we'll go to your place now. You can pack while I check the bookings."

  At last! A way out of this horrific situation. "Pack and write my newspaper report," she corrected. "No time for both. Not now."

  "You're saying the report will take more than an hour?"

  "Course not."

  Her scalp prickled at his sly grin. Damn, damn, damn. He'd sucked her right in when he threw out that challenge, forcing her denial. Now she was committed, and out of excuses, out of ideas, and out of energy to argue any more. "Okay. I'll come, but only for the interview."

  Even as she said the words, apprehension grew like a mushroom cloud. What if she'd misread him after all and this was another con from Connor, the sexy Olympian?

  CHAPTER 2

  Connor dragged his gaze away from Bailey's attractive face and instead, tried to concentrate on the road, the traffic, the red light. Hell, anything, so it didn't look like staring but God, she'd lifted his spirits with that broad smile and gentle voice. Could she lift him out of the doldrums that had taken over after the high of the Olympic win?

  Like being desperate to scratch an itch, he needed to know her better and automatically, his gaze swung back to her. Useless trying to fight the pull. "If you had a choice, where would you most like to go?"

  "What's that got to do with it? You've already made the arrangements." She swung the steering-wheel, turning right instead of heading out of town.

  Thank God. "In case I can't get a booking for you and have to change destination." Would she believe that unlikely story?

  "Yeah?" Uncertainty laced her tone as she glanced across at him. "Well, since you're asking, we went to Mt Cook once when I was a kid. Came home earlier than planned."

  Mt Cook? He pushed buttons on his phone while she pulled the car into the curb and stopped outside an old wooden house.

  "You'd better come in and tell me what to pack."

  "Best prepare for all seasons." He dropped the phone into his pocket. "Include a warm jacket. Walking shoes. Sturdy ones. Comfortable pants. Oh, and something dressy too, just in case."

  Her hands landed on her hips. "Thick jacket, walking shoes, good shoes, sandals, good dress, T-shirt, long pants, thermals. Don't believe I have a suitcase big enough."

  He shook his head. "Overnight bag," he instructed. "Carry the jacket, wear the high heels, and several layers of clothing. Okay?"

  After she'd disappeared down the hall he rang the airline and rescheduled his flight home, booked them both for the weekend and changed out of his uniform. In the tidy living room he found only one photo on display, of Bailey with two other young women, their arms around each other in enviable close friendship. Like him, she knew what she wanted, with a goal and a roadmap already in place. Hers just needed a few tweaks. His needed a shot of passion.

  The clock had moved forward thirty minutes by the time she finally emerged and dumped a bulging bag beside the front door. At least she appeared more relaxed in a loose, long-sleeved top and jeans.

  "I've booked your accommodation as well as a seat on the plane. You're good to go."

  "Cool. Tell me later how much I owe you." Slipping past him, she disappeared into the living-room.

  "Ready?" he called as he picked up her bag.

  "My newspaper article? Remember?" With hands on two handles she swung bi-fold doors open to reveal a large full-length cupboard. Leaning over the chair inside, she opened the laptop on a desk and turned it on.

  "Can't you do it later?" He abandoned the bag, stepped into the living-room and glanced at the clock. "We're running out of time. Check-in closes in forty minutes."

  She snapped upright and swung around, her eyes wide, her mouth hanging open. "Forty?"

  The chair screeched as she dragged it over the polished wooden floor. Holy crap. Next thing she'd collapsed on the chair, head buried in her hands and her curls hiding her face.

  "Why didn't I write the damn newspaper article first? I'm gonna run out of time."

  "Leave it," he instructed as he left the room again and opened the front door.

  But at the chair's same god-awful sound, he abandoned his mission and hurried back inside. "My fault, sorry. Never expected to be mobbed like that by a group of unruly parents. Worse than reporters." And somehow, he managed a smile, like the good old days before the Olympics when he'd joked around with his mates. Before the last of them—Pete—deserted him and moved in with his girlfriend. "What's the penalty if you miss the boss' deadline?"

  "Um." She studied the series of photos that appeared on the screen. "Oh, it's not just that." Scrolling through, she deleted several. "It's the content." Quickly, she typed a caption for the remaining two photos. "Needs to be really good."

  "You're not concentrating here. Finish it at the airport, after we check in. It'll be easier then." Leaving her with that thought, he finally carried her bag to the car, joined by her only a minute later, the laptop and cord in her hands.

  Neither spoke till she'd eased back in her seat and he felt relaxed enough to resume the conversation. "Couldn’t you have sweetened up your boss by telling him of the personal interest story you're doing on me?"

  "Better if he doesn't know. Now, where are we going?"

  "Airport, I thought. Isn't that right?"

  When Bailey's hands gripped the steering wheel he grinned. This was fun, winding her up, the way he used to do with his mates.

  "Okay, I'll rephrase that." Further down the road she turned towards the airport "Where are we flying to?"

  He kept her waiting till she'd entered the airport area, collected a ticket from the automated dispenser, found a park and stopped the car. "You'll see."

  Her lips thinned as he retrieved their bags. "Guess I will."

  Of course he couldn't keep their destination a secret once he'd begun checking in.

  "You'd already planned on going to Mt Cook?" she whispered, pointing at the screen. "Were you reading my mind?"

  Nodding at the papers emerging from the kiosk he grabbed their bags as she collected the boarding passes. "Coincidence, I'd say."

  "Yeah, right." She stepped ahead onto the escalator. "I don't believe in coincidences but thank you anyway. I loved it last time and I know I'll love it again."


  "Hey, we're not there yet." At the top he pushed her towards the departure lounge as a buzz of elation spread through his body. Funny how giving her pleasure did the same for him.

  The seats he chose overlooked the tarmac and he sat in silence as she opened the computer again and pounded the keys.

  Impressive, the way she typed; quick and efficient. Total opposite to the time she'd taken to change and pack. What would she be like as a cox? Yell instructions to the crew the whole race, or limit her communication to gentle encouragement?

  No way of finding out, damnit, with the skiff he rowed being coxless.

  Minutes later the typing stopped and she beamed at him. "All done. Finished. Gone."

  He glanced at his watch. "And before deadline. Good on you." About to make another comment, he stopped when an announcement came over the loud speaker. "That's us. Come on."

  Standing beside him, she retrieved her phone. "Nearly forgot to tell my flatmates I'll be away for the weekend."

  "Only that," he stipulated. "Not your companion. Not our current location. Not our destination."

  Reluctantly it seemed, she nodded, clicking for only a few more seconds before dropping the phone back in her pocket. But when she looked out the window she gasped, pointing to the Beech 1900D sitting outside. "Is that our plane?"

  "Sure is."

  "But it's so small."

  "Does it matter? Still get us there." They shuffled forward with the queue. "You have flown before, haven't you?"

  "Only in a much larger plane."

  "Tell you what." He leaned towards her as they followed the painted pathway across the tarmac. "You can sit by the window. Watch the mountains as a distraction." And inside the plane, he pointed to her seat in one of the single rows down each side. "See? You're beside a window, as promised."

  Instead of the expected pleasure, she screwed up her nose.

  Laughing, he settled in his own seat opposite. God, she made him feel alive again. Like his old self. His old, happy self.

  A page of Bailey's magazine flipped over. Dark lashes rested on her cheeks as she skimmed over the article. With every tiny turn of her head, curls slipped from her shoulders, reformed and settled again, like a cat flicking its tail around itself then relaxing into a crouch.