by Jena Petrie
"Connor has a very high opinion of you," she remembered.
His answering smile showed pride. "And I of him. I'm lucky to have that bunch of guys to coach. Generally, they get on really well together. Not all crews jell like them."
"Awesome, their Olympic win, wasn't it?"
"Sure was. They worked hard for that medal."
"I saw the final on TV several times. The media must have been making sure everyone in the country had a chance to see it."
"Good for them. That race was definitely worth watching and the commentator did a wonderful job of capturing the excitement." Jeff slowed as they approached the town's reduced speed sign.
Cars lined the road, all with at least one bike on its roof and she pointed to them as they drove past. "There must be a race on this weekend. That'll be why I couldn't get accommodation."
Jeff glanced across at her. "Why would you want to?"
"To maintain my professional image."
"Oh." A slight nod. "Okay."
A couple of blocks later he stopped in front of a small red brick cottage. "Here we are." He pulled her bag from the car and dumped it on the path, just as the house's front door opened.
Connor strode out, a wide grin stretched across his face. He wrapped her in his arms and lifted her off the ground.
"Hey! Put me down! Put me–"
Although he obeyed, his lips landed on hers first and when he glanced up at his coach the grin returned. "Thanks, Jeff. Do the same for you one day."
"Has he got a girlfriend living somewhere else?" Bailey asked, leaning back in Connor's arms to see his face.
"Hope not," he chuckled. "He's married."
She turned, twisting out of his hold. "Do you realise, that demonstration just confirmed his suspicion that I'm your girlfriend?"
"Not as much as your use of the word," he grinned.
"What? I did no–"
He laughed outright. "Too late to back out now, honey." With one hand he grabbed her case, slipped the other around her back, pushed her along the path, up the steps and through the door.
After expecting a private evening with him, the noise coming from the other side of the lobby door sent shockwaves through her. "What's this?" she hissed, resisting his forward march. "What's going on?"
Warm fingers pulled her hard against his side. "Jeff's not the only one who thinks you're my girlfriend. My crewmates do, too."
What? She broke free of his hold, stepped back and glared at him. "So put them right!"
Blasted man shook his head. "Inevitable, honey, once they heard we'd spent the weekend together. Best just go with the flow and carry on pretending." Wrapping his fingers around hers, he added, "This is your welcoming party. My crewmates and their partners, so desperate to meet you they devised this plan for dessert and coffee."
"But I've only come to take photos," she protested, her voice fading away as he pushed the door open.
Immediately, the noisy chatter faded as the girls and guys turned around and Connor led her into the room.
"About time, Free-bee," one of the guys called.
Ken, the tallest. Bailey searched the other faces she'd seen on T.V. Blond Aaron and next to him, Connor's best mate Pete who'd rowed with him in Under 23 competitions.
Mixed with the guys were three strange women, all surging forward in one intimidating group. Backing away a step, Bailey cringed. How would she remember which girl went with which guy when they crowded together like this?
But beside her, Connor made it easy to remember the individuals by introducing them in couples. Suzy with Aaron—both blond; Nat with Ken—both really tall; Michelle nearer her own height than either of the others, standing with Pete.
A glass of white wine appeared in her hand a moment before Ken raised his beer bottle in a toast. "Welcome, Bailey. Hope you like it here."
Around the room everyone repeated the toast but the only voice Bailey heard clearly came from Connor beside her as he substituted love for Ken's like.
As if convincing his mates she'd become his girlfriend, but setting up a difficult situation for her.
After guiding Bailey from one couple to the next for a quick chat, Connor led her through the house to a large bedroom containing a huge king-sized bed. She barely managed to suppress the shiver that followed.
Her bag landed on the floor. "There's another room if you want but remember, anytime you feel inclined to share mine, just come." With a sexy, lopsided grin he touched her face with his thumb and looked into her eyes.
A guy with that I want you in his gaze could persuade a girl to stray off the safe path if she wasn't careful, especially when the thumb slid over her cheek, followed by a gentle touch of his lips against hers. "Anytime at all."
"I'm here on business, remember?" Turning to leave, she pointed to a small vase of miniature roses on the dresser. "Flowers?"
"Specially for you." His grin conveyed such a relaxed and happy attitude as he looked down at her, her toes started to curl. So, so sexy when he did that. So gorgeous, a warm feeling spread through her chest. How amazing that he'd chosen her.
Almost, she stretched up to hug him. Stopped just in time. No point giving the impression she wanted more when it could never happen.
Back in the living room she glanced at the decorations she hadn't noticed before: balloons hanging from the ceiling in every corner, and streamers draped between them. In the dinning area, plates of sweet food now covered the wooden table.
"Come on, dig in, everyone," Michelle called as she placed a cheesecake in the only remaining space.
And dig in they did, laughing, joking and jostling for room. With Connor at her side encouraging her to try everything, her plate soon disappeared under a variety of food. Turning, she pushed her way out of the melee to make way for others around the small table, and stopped in front of Connor. "I guess your nickname comes from Freeman."
"Obviously."
"Have all the guys got nicknames?"
"Babe," His thumb stroked the back of her hand. "Everyone who's a mate has a nickname."
"What's Aaron's?"
"Alpha. Couldn't be anything else, when his name starts with two As."
"True," she chuckled. "And Ken? What's his other name?"
"Metcalf."
She whacked his arm. "Nickname I meant, you goof."
"Well, it's Moo, of course. Logical, don't you think?"
When she frowned he explained, "You know: calf. Cow. Moo-oo."
And this time, she laughed. "Now why didn't I guess that one? What about Pete's?"
"If you couldn't guess Ken's you won't have a show of guessing Pete's."
Probably dead easy but not tonight, with so much happening around her. "Hey, I'm off duty and don't have my thinking cap on. You'd better spell it out."
"Oh, babe, you disappoint me." With his finger under her chin he raised her head to look directly into her eyes. "You know the nursery rhyme; Peter, Peter, Pumpkin eater?"
"You're not telling me you named your best mate Pumpkin after a children's nursery rhyme? Poor guy."
"Ah, but that's not the only reason. He often wears orange clothing. I mean, orange!" Connor's nose screwed up, as if he considered the colour abhorrent because it clashed with Pete's hair or something.
But she was on a roll now with laughter bubbling out of her, although she tried to keep it in check. "And Jeff?" she managed to ask a couple of minutes later. "I'm sure you've got a nickname for him, too."
"Oh, yeah. Couldn't let him get away with not being included. Nothing special for him, though. He's just Santa."
"Wha-at?" Astonishment banished her cheerful mood and stretched the word into a disjointed concoction of sounds as her bite of brandy snap slipped down her throat without being chewed. "Where the blazes did that come from?"
"Oh, it's a lo-ong story. Comes all the way from the other side of the world."
"Let me guess. You picked it up on one of your trips away?"
"Not exactly. See, the beginnings
also come from long before my time."
"Father Time?"
"No. Not that long ago. Medieval, I believe."
She sighed dramatically. "Ok-ay. I give in. Just tell me." Turning to check for a vacant seat, she put her empty plate on the table and sat on the sofa, patting the vacant space beside her.
"Well," he began as he lowered himself down and slid his arm around her back, pulling her into his side in a cosy fashion. "The story originates with a gentleman called St Nicholas." Connor touched his cheek to hers and lowered his voice. "Our coach is Jeff Nicholls which comes from Nicholas, and Saint Nicholas was the original Santa Claus."
The brief description was so far from what Bailey had imagined, another burst of laughter escaped. God, she loved this guy when he joked. "So, he gives you gifts?"
"Did I mention presents?" Leaning away from her, he frowned. "No he does not, even for a reward, but he does look after us." With a sudden cheeky grin he added, "Like when I need someone to collect my girlfriend from the airport and can't go because I'm preparing for a party."
"That's what you were doing? He said—"
"That I was busy?"
"Doing some last minute improvements, if my memory's correct."
"And he was right, because I was improving the living room's décor with balloons and streamers. Like it?"
"Yeah," she chuckled. "I like it a lot." And God, if he carried on with this jovial attitude all weekend she'd be in danger of falling in love with him and where would that lead? Anger and frustration when that reporter ruined Connor's reputation with his lies–
"Another wine?" Connor held out his hand for Bailey's empty glass as he stood.
"It's alright. I'll get it." Full glass in hand, she turned to find Pete in front of her, gulping down another handful of crisps.
"They go better with beer than any of that sweet stuff," he told her, looking like a kid who'd been caught nicking sweets. "Hear you're gonna take rowing photos this weekend."
"Not of you, though," she teased as a couple of nibbles escaped his fingers and fell to the floor.
"What? You're not gonna take any of the whole crew? But we're a team. We won the Olympics together." Although he sounded offended, his appearance suggested otherwise.
"You did," she agreed. "But my article's on Connor. If you'd been the one giving the talk at the Mosgiel School I'd have done the whole article on you instead. See what you missed out on?"
"Bugger." Spoken in a good-natured tone, and accompanied by another grin. "Oh, well. Not to worry. I'd have hated to deprive Connor of the opportunity to find himself a girl." With a wink he slipped away towards the kitchen. For more crisps, no doubt.
The space he left soon filled with the three girls, advancing together like a threatening army. "Are you really only staying the weekend?" Nat's question seemed to contain disappointment. "You see, we thought you were moving in."
"With Connor, your new boyfriend," Suzy added.
"Don't let them put you off." Michelle indicated the others with a nod. "We just want to know the true situation so we don't say the wrong thing and upset Connor."
"We don't want him hurt." Nat's tone held a warning.
"Of course, and it's great he's got such good mates." Bailey eyed each of them in turn. "Truth is, the main reason I came this weekend was to take photos of Connor—action photos of him on the water."
All three pairs of eyes stared back.
"For an article I'm writing on him. And for the record, he was the one who suggested them."
"I bet he did, if it meant getting you up here," Michelle laughed, and with a little shrug of her shoulders and shake of her hips, her message came through loud and clear.
Yeah, she'd walked right into that one. "Hasn't he told you—?"
"No!" came in a chorus, their faces alert, interested.
Suzy spoke for the group. "All we know is that you're a reporter and you spent the weekend together while you interviewed him. Other than that, nothing more of your meeting."
"In that case, guess I'd better fill you in. It started when I went to the school to interview Connor for my newspaper." She frowned. "You do know we went to Mt Cook?"
Three heads shook in denial while Nat explained, "He never said anything about that."
"You must have had a great time." Suzy's eyes had lit up as a knowing smile spread across her lips.
"The arrangement was a fair one," Bailey pointed out as the unease inside her grew to dangerous levels. She had to get through to these girls so they'd understand. Just had to. Connor might be able to deceive his mates but she was done with pretence. "I wanted to interview him for a magazine article but to maintain his privacy, I acted as his girlfriend—"
"And fitted the role perfectly, is my guess," Michelle added with a sly grin.
Seemed like these girls had presumed too much. Did the guys, too? "Well, I don't know about that but it was so we'd avoid looking conspicuous. As part of the act, Connor spoiled me rotten and treated me to a heap of wonderful new experiences; flash dinner, boat trip—"
"Sounds like fun." Michelle winked at the other two.
"Giving you numerous lasting memories so you wouldn't forget him," Nat added.
"Yeah, like the reason he sent flowers." A smile accompanied Suzy's comment.
They knew about that? "One of you helped him—"
"No, no. That was his idea," Michelle explained with a smile. "It must have done the trick, huh, because you're here."
"To take photos, remember?" Bailey insisted, and clamped her teeth together.
"Yeah, yeah," Suzy agreed. "But he ordered flowers for the bedroom, too."
"The roses?"
"Scented roses," Michelle corrected with a sideways grin towards the other girls and they all laughed.
"A welcome, because he wants you to stay," Nat stressed, as if proving Michelle's point.
"He's a good guy, Bailey," Michelle's tone reassured. "A good guy who needs a companion and he's chosen you. It'd be neat if you chose him too."
"But..." Bailey bit her lip. "Really, I hardly know him."
"Will soon if you move in." Nat's dictatorial tone suggested she'd practised it plenty of times before.
"That would be a big decision to make." Bailey glared at Nat. "Tossing in my job, leaving my friends. Did you have to do that for Ken?"
At least the other girl looked a little uncomfortable. "I did, but I'd known him several months by then so our situation was a little different. And in my line of work a replacement job is usually easier to come by. Still, Connor doesn't disguise the fact he's keen on you and wants you here, so we hope you feel he's worth it.
Michelle patted Bailey's arm. "No need to worry about a thing with Connor. He's a straight-up kinda guy and a member of the one-woman band. You'll always be safe with him."
"What about his reputation? One night—"
"Oh, that." Michelle dismissed the suggestion with a wave. "Fiction, the whole story. We reckon it was invented by some jilted girlfriend, like a certain blonde from the Women's Four." Suddenly she stopped. "Why? Did he do something to make you believe the rumour?"
"No. Only suggestions, teasing, that sort of thing. Nothing really to indicate it was true. That's why I had to check."
"Well." Michelle beamed. "There you go. Nothing to worry about."
"Nothing detrimental to report on Connor at all, so I hope you don't invent something," Suzy warned.
"Why would I?" Bailey demanded, turning to accost the tall girl.
"Dirt sells, I believe." The other girl lifted her chin.
Jeez, and this was supposed to be a welcome party! "That's not what I write," Bailey assured her.
Only Michelle spoke, using such a gentle tone it soothed Bailey's growing tension. "Of course you don't. Connor would never have agreed to an interview if you wrote trash. What paper do you work for?"
Possibly none, after next Monday's meeting with the boss. Ignoring the possibility, Bailey filled the other girls in on her job. Recipr
ocating, they informed her of theirs; Michelle a nurse, Suzy an accountant and Nat a lawyer. Yeah, that fitted.
All of them, far more highly qualified than her. Yet they appeared to believe she and Connor should be together.
What were the reasons he'd given for wanting her to move? Sharing a love of the same sport and knowing the jargon were hardly sufficient. There needed to be more. Oh, yes. Sex. One point against. Her job? Neutral. The camaraderie? In favour. Her friends? Against. Not looking good so far. Getting away from the writer of that note at Mt Cook? In favour.
"You okay?" Connor plucked the empty glass from her hand and replaced it with a steaming cup of coffee.
"Thanks." She sipped the drink. Milk, with no sugar added. He'd remembered. "I'm blown away. Your mates all seem keen to get me here."
"Yep." He slipped an arm around her shoulder and leaned down. "I'll always be on the outer until I have a girlfriend too. The job's yours, if you want it."
"And the spare room?"
"Yours if you want. No pressure, babe, but I really believe you need to ditch that job and move away. And I really, really hope you choose Sherdon."
"I've still got a lot to learn about you." She stepped out of his hold. "What are you like at giving pressure cooker lessons?"
Again, he bent close. "If you need one, babe, I'll oblige. Whatever you want, whenever you want and whatever the subject. Anything, to convince you to move in. You should know that by now." With a lift of his cup in acknowledgement to Michelle, approaching with the coffee plunger for refills, he was off, forming a group with Ken and Aaron.
"How's the coffee?" Michelle asked.
"Perfect, thanks." She nodded towards the group of three guys. "I didn't think they'd drink alcohol at all when they've got rowing tomorrow morning."
"They don't usually but this is a special occasion. Pete reckoned they couldn't welcome you properly without having a couple of beers to celebrate, now Connor's finally found a girl."
"Thought I explained that, only a few minutes ago," Bailey growled but Michelle just grinned back as the other two girls joined them, steaming cups in their hands.
"Keeping off alcohol shows their dedication to their sport and their determination to reach the next goal," Michelle explained.