by Nicola Marsh
“Do I know you?”
“Unless you frequent IT conventions or live in backwater New Orleans, doubtful.” He scowled and jabbed a finger at her mainframe. “Your systems are shit.”
“That’s why you’re here, Einstein, to fix them.”
He raised an eyebrow at her snarl. “If you took some of that anger out on your PC, I’m not surprised you’re screwed.”
She hadn’t been screwed, that was her problem.
“What’s your name?”
“Wyatt.” He doffed an imaginary hat and with that simple tilt of his head, she was once again struck by his resemblance to…Damn, who was this guy? “Wyatt Harrison, the best in the business. So if you’d let me get back to it?”
Chantal gripped the edge of the desk, reeling as the truth detonated. Wyatt Harrison had to be Zane’s half brother. Their coloring was different but those cheekbones, that jaw, even the head tilt, had been so similar she’d noticed the resemblance before he’d divulged his name.
But if Zane hadn’t known his half-brothers existed until a few years ago, odds were Wyatt had no idea about his Aussie half-siblings either, so she had to tread carefully.
“Any relation to Kurt Harrison?”
She only just caught an exasperated sigh before Wyatt nodded. “He’s my brother. And no, I don’t play ball. Hate sports.” He brandished his keyboard. “Which is why I’m a geek and he’s a jock.”
Wyatt placed the keyboard down and folded his arms, his lips compressed in a thin, angry line. “You angling to meet him?”
“Hell, no,” she said, her vehemence garnering a glimmer of a smile from surly Wyatt.
“You’d be the only woman in the country who didn’t want to use me to get to him.” He sounded resigned rather than bitter. “Anyway, how did you know?”
“You look alike,” she said, wondering if he knew he had another brother he looked like.
He grunted in response and pointed at the array of equipment in front of him. “Much as I’d like to make meaningless small talk, I need to get back to it.”
Chantal wanted to say ‘take a chill pill, dude.’ What she said was, “Sure, sorry to interrupt.”
Wyatt muttered something unintelligible and returned to his work, while she pondered the wisdom of letting Zane know one of his siblings was in her office right now.
Would he thank her, or blame her for interfering? From his revelations last night, there had to be tension simmering beneath the surface. Resentment against his father, probably against his half-brothers too. Plus a whole stack of emotions she knew only too well.
When she’d discovered she had a dad on her eighteenth birthday and learned he’d left Craye Canyon before she’d been born, she’d been angry. Furious, in fact, at her father for escaping the dead end town, something she’d longed to do growing up, and at her mother for driving him away with her drudgery. Because that’s what it had to have been, considering how boring her mom’s life was. How mundane and routine. Her step-daddy had been a serial cheater, and when her resentment really kicked in she’d wondered if her mom had driven him away too.
Chantal had never forgiven her mom for not telling her dad she was pregnant, for allowing her dad to walk away without knowing he had a child on the way. She’d been in a constant rage over her mom’s failings when she first learned the truth. Then the sorrow had set in. And the self-pity. She’d been an unwanted child before she’d even been born.
Thanks to her mom’s selfishness, she’d been robbed of eighteen possible years with her real father. Eighteen goddamn wasted years, when her mom had been too wrapped up in her church fetes and PTA meetings and bake sales, trying to maintain a façade of normalcy when in reality she had a crappy marriage and a daughter she didn’t care enough about.
Chantal had left Craye Canyon shortly after she’d learned the truth and never looked back. And now, nineteen years later, had a real relationship with her dad, who lived in New York. They Skyped regularly, caught up in person several times a year. She treasured every moment, though it didn’t make up for those wasted years.
She’d bet every last sequin in this place that Zane would give anything to have that with his dad. He wouldn’t have travelled half way around the world unless he wanted some kind of relationship with him. He’d virtually said as much.
What if she could smooth the way before he met his father by facilitating a meeting with his half-brother?
Annoyed by her prevaricating when she was usually so decisive, she pushed away from her desk and stood. “I’ll be in the main rehearsal room if you need me.”
Wyatt waved her away without glancing up from his work and she sighed. What she was about to do could either earn her major Brownie points with a guy she’d like to get to know better, or ensure she alienated him once and for all.
She grabbed her cell, her thumb hovering over Zane’s number. He’d given it to her that first meeting at the airport, yet as she strode from her office and entered the rehearsal room, she still had no idea whether to call him or not.
“Hey, no cells allowed in rehearsal.” Ashlin O’Meara, her choreographer, snatched the phone out of her hands. “Boss’s rules, remember?”
“Give me that.” Chantal held out her hand and Ashlin sniggered.
“You didn’t say the magic word.”
“I’m not in the mood, Ash.”
Ashlin must’ve heard something in her tone because rather than prolong the joke, as the Irish dancer with a great sense of humor would usually do, she handed over the cell. “What’s wrong?”
Being a control freak, Chantal rarely asked for help. When a job needed to be done, she did it. But she could do with some objective advice.
“I’ve got a bit of dilemma.” Chantal beckoned Ashlin toward a row of chairs that lined the far wall, opposite the unforgiving floor to ceiling mirrors. “It involves a guy I like.”
Ashlin gaped for a second before recovering her composure. “Come again?”
Chantal chuckled as they sat. “I know, I know. I like a guy. Sue me.”
Ashlin held up her hands. “Hey, I’m not judging, babe. I’ve been in a similar drought.”
“By choice, obviously.” Chantal gestured at Ashlin, with her lithe dancer body encased in a black leotard, her waist-length auburn hair, big blue eyes and flawless complexion. Chantal was comfortable in her own skin but standing next to the classic Irish beauty made her feel a tad insecure at times. “You’re a knockout and you know it.”
Ashlin punched her lightly on the arm. “Like you couldn’t get a date with a snap of your fingers.” Ashlin clicked hers for emphasis. “Face it, boss. We’re a couple of workaholics who’d rather spend a night here than listening to some guy wax lyrical about the size of his dick.”
Chantal chuckled. “Now that we’re in agreement we’re a couple of choosy bitches, want to hear my dilemma?”
“Absolutely.” Ashlin sat on a chair, cross-legged. “Spill.”
“This is confidential, okay?” Chantal made a zipping motion over her lips and Ashlin nodded.
“That Aussie guy I’m playing tour guide for is in the States to meet his dad and half-brothers for the first time.” Chantal glanced at her cell again, still no closer to knowing what to do. “And in some huge twist of cosmic fate, turns out one of those half-brothers is my new IT consultant and I’m not sure whether to tell Zane or not.”
Ashlin tapped a fingernail against her bottom lip. “Why wouldn’t you tell him?”
“Because he might think I’m interfering?”
Ashlin made a cute exasperated sound through pursed lips. “Honey, you’re the most decisive person I know and the very fact you’re deliberating this, let alone asking my opinion, means you really like this guy.”
“He’s hot, that’s all.”
Ashlin snorted, not buying her feigned nonchalance for a second. “If that’s all it was, you could bang half the guys in Vegas, so what’s the real deal?”
“He’s…different.”
&nb
sp; Zane’s vulnerability had got to Chantal in a way she hadn’t expected. Guys didn’t share personal stuff. It wasn’t in their DNA. Maybe it was the fact she barely knew Zane and he felt comfortable offloading to a virtual stranger, but whatever had motivated him last night, she’d been touched in a way no guy had touched her in a long while.
If only he’d followed through with a little physical touching.
“Tell him.” Ashlin laid a hand on her shoulder. “You wouldn’t be stressing over this if he didn’t meant something beyond a fling, so better you tell him now.”
More than a fling? No way. The mere thought struck fear into her independent heart. “I only just met the guy. And he’ll be heading back to Australia once he’s done here, so all he ever can be is a fling.”
It’s what she’d focused on all night, Zane’s ‘anticipation as foreplay’ angle. He wanted to have sex with her just as much as she wanted it. They’d set the sheets on fire then he’d walk. A fiery fling to end her deliberate man drought.
So why the hell was she spending this much time prevaricating over something that was a no-brainer?
Ashlin assumed her patient teacher expression; the one Chantal saw her use daily with dancers under her tutelage. “Fling is good. But on the off-chance he hangs around for a while and finds out you’re working alongside his half-brother who he wants to connect with…”
“I could pretend I didn’t know?”
“Seriously?” Ashlin shook her head and Chantal sighed.
“I’ll tell him.”
“Good girl.” Ashlin tugged her long hair back into a ponytail and twisted it into a loose topknot. “What’s the IT guy like?”
“Why? You have a thing for geeks?”
To her surprise, Ashlin blushed. “I have a thing for the latest whiz-bang computer gear and was thinking of picking his brains.”
“Be my guest, though he’ll be working for the next hour in my office and he’s a bit of a grump.”
“Thanks for the warning.” Ashlin stood in a smooth movement that reminded Chantal of an elegant swan unfolding its wings. “Now go call your guy.”
“Thanks, I will.”
As Chantal tapped Zane’s name in her contacts list, she knew this news couldn’t be delivered over the phone.
She needed to see him. Pronto.
CHAPTER THREE
Zane entered Burlesque Bombshells for the second time in twenty-four hours and now, like then, his chest tightened. Not because of the subtle sensuality of the venue, but because of the gorgeous blonde striding his way, wearing a tight purple suit that hugged her curves, and towering black stilettos that evoked a wistful erotic image of her wearing those fuck-me shoes and nothing else.
“Glad you could make it,” she said, holding out her hand, a successful businesswoman at the top of her game by all appearances. It didn’t hide the nervousness lurking in the depths of her eyes.
For some reason, it made him feel better, that this confident woman could flounder a little around him. For that’s exactly how he’d been feeling since he met her. A little out of his depth, when he was usually at ease with women.
“You said it was important.” He shook her hand, but bent to kiss her cheek. A quick peck, designed to unnerve her. Instead, as her exotic fragrance infused his senses, he was the one caught off-guard. She smelt like cinnamon…cloves…or some other spices he didn’t know, a powerful combination designed to make a guy lose his head. It was working.
“It is.” She slid her hand out of his and motioned to the nearest seat. “Do you want a coffee?”
“I’m fine, thanks.” He pulled out her chair, waited for her to sit before taking a seat next to her, appreciating the way her knee-length skirt slid up her thighs as she crossed her legs. “If this is your way of saying you can’t wait to take me on a tour of Vegas, I’m all yours.”
She smiled but it didn’t erase the tightness pinching her luscious plum-slicked lips. “You might change your mind about wanting my tour guide services when you hear me out.”
Intrigued, he sat back. “Nothing you could tell me would prevent me from wanting to spend more time with you.”
A faint pink stained her cheeks. Another surprise, as he’d thought self-confident women like Chantal didn’t blush at anything.
“Before I tell you, let me preface by saying this is a giant coincidence and I didn’t know what was going on ‘til this morning when I entered my office and saw him and—”
“Whoa, slow down, you’ll have a coronary.” He may not know Chantal well but the way she squirmed in her seat, her fingers fidgeting with the tablecloth, while her gaze darted away from his constantly, alerted him to the fact something had her rattled. “You said him? Is some guy hassling you?”
She shook her head, the long tendrils that had escaped her up-do brushing her cheeks, making him want to reach out and wind them around his finger. “I didn’t know whether to tell you this or not, but I think you deserve to know.”
“It can’t be mine,” he deadpanned and at last he glimpsed a glimmer of a smile. “We haven’t got to the good stuff yet for you to get pregnant.”
She slugged him on the arm and he was relieved to see some of the tension ebb out of her shoulders. “You still want to meet your half-brothers?”
Surprised by her change of tack, he nodded. Wishing anew he hadn’t blurted all that crap last night.
She gnawed on her bottom lip, before meeting his gaze with a hint of wariness in hers. “Wyatt is my new IT guy. Was in my office this morning when I arrived. I noticed a resemblance to you, then he told me his surname.” She shrugged, searching his face while he digested the fact his half-brother was in the building as they spoke.
“I didn’t want you to think I’m interfering or anything, but I could see last night how much it means to you to meet your brothers so thought I’d let you know…” she trailed off almost on a whisper, her fingers resuming their nervous plucking, this time her skirt hem.
He reached across and stilled them by placing his hands over hers. “Thanks for telling me, I appreciate it.”
Her shoulders straightened and he realized that’s what her nerves had been about: she’d been genuinely testy about his reaction to the news she was working alongside his brother.
His brother.
Interesting that he’d already dropped the ‘half’ status. Meant one of two things: he was a sentimental sap or an absolute idiot for wanting to tread on emotional landmines.
“Do you want to meet him now?” She cleared her throat. “I could take you to him.”
Hell yeah, Zane wanted to meet Wyatt. He’d done extensive Internet searches on both his American siblings and was intrigued to learn that Wyatt had more in common with Steele, his conservative CEO brother, while Zane and Kurt were the jocks.
From the info he’d garnered, Wyatt was an IT genius but a bit of a recluse. Single. Lived outside of New Orleans but travelled extensively, contracting out his services to companies and corporations.
Zane had envisaged meeting Wyatt some time over the next few weeks, after he’d had time to settle in, meet his dad first, maybe get Christopher to pave the way.
Now, Chantal’s revelation had blown that plan to smithereens. He had the opportunity to meet Wyatt sooner rather than later. He’d do it, but what if Wyatt didn’t want to meet him?
Showing up out of the blue would be bad enough but lobbing at the guy’s workplace?
“I wonder if he knows about me?”
Chantal slipped her hands out from under his and rested them on his shoulders, bringing her tantalizingly close. “This is none of my business, but I could find out if you like, help smooth things out for you?”
Tempting as her offer sounded, Zane knew he had to do this his way.
“Thanks, but I need to do this now.” Before he turned chickenshit and bolted. For a guy who’d taken no prisoners on the football field, he’d sure turned into a weak prick.
“Okay, come with me.” She stood and held out h
er hand.
When he took it, he felt a strange sense of calm, like she anchored him somehow.
Crazy, considering he’d only known her a few days, but if he’d felt a connection with the beautiful blonde last night, holding her hand now only cemented it.
They didn’t speak on the way to her office and he respected her all the more for sensing his need for silence. He needed to think, to formulate an opening, to run through possible scenarios in his head about how this may go.
“Here we are.” She stopped outside the last door at the end of a long corridor. “Go straight in.”
She squeezed his hand, released it. “There’s a small conference room next to the door we just came through. I’ll be waiting in there if you need me later.”
Zane doubted he’d feel like talking after his confrontation with Wyatt but he appreciated the offer nonetheless.
“Thanks for this.” He reached up, brushed his thumb down her cheek, across her bottom lip, savoring her sharp intake of breath.
He planned on affecting her breathing a lot more, when the two of them were naked and sweaty and panting for each other.
“Good luck.” She stared at his mouth for what seemed like an eternity, his unease at meeting his brother swamped by another more primitive emotion. Blinding lust.
Chantal wanted him. He wanted her. But just as he was about to kiss her senseless, she turned and stalked away, those damn sexy heels making sharp clacking sounds against the parquetry floor.
Leaving him no option but to get this over with.
He knocked, waited five long seconds, before entering the office.
Wyatt was hunched over a keyboard, his gaze glued to a computer screen. With his face in shadows, all Zane could see was a mop of curly dark hair.
He should feel something. He wanted to feel something. But as he stared at his half-brother, all he could think was ‘what the fuck am I doing here?’
Wyatt continued to ignore him, didn’t look up even when Zane cleared his throat.
“If you’re looking for the boss lady, she’s not here,” Wyatt said, his fingers tapping the keys like a maniac.