Bold

by Nicola Marsh

  “It’s only been three days, babe. He’ll call.” Miranda’s upbeat personality generally made Chantal smile, but today, her friend’s optimistic perkiness grated.

  Wishing she’d never told her friends how much she fancied Zane, Chantal propped on the edge of her desk and shrugged. “No biggie if he doesn’t. With all the work around here, I don’t really have time to date.”

  “Who said anything about dating? Ashlin sniggered and Miranda giggled. “Besides, work has been your excuse not to get out for years.”

  “I get out,” Chantal said, well aware she didn’t.

  The truth was, Chantal was tired. She’d spent years building Bombshells into the force it was in Vegas, years of being deliberately bold and flamboyant, years of socializing and schmoozing. She didn’t have time for all the emotional crap that relationships entailed and she didn’t need a guy in her life beyond the occasional night out and exercise afterward.

  It was why she’d chosen to be man-free for the last two years. These days, when she finally got home late every night, she’d rather unwind with her e-reader and a glass of wine in the bath than have to perform for some needy guy.

  That’s why Zane was such an attractive proposition. Short-term fling, no strings. Plus he happened to be the sexiest, rugged guy she’d ever met. He’d be the perfect long cool drink to quench her man drought.

  “He’ll definitely call and I see things happening for you two.” Miranda lobbed her smoothie cup into the trash. “I’ve got a vibe.”

  Chantal blew a raspberry. “Sweetie, you’re the best damn yoga instructor we’ve ever had here, and the dancers have never been more toned because of it, but you’re full of crap.”

  Unfazed, Miranda pressed her palms together and bowed, Namaste-style. “My vibes are rarely wrong.”

  “In that case, can your famous vibe conjure me a hottie like hers?” Ashlin stood, annoyingly lithe and mobile like Miranda. Chantal would hate them both for their beauty and fitness if they weren’t her closest friends next to Adele. And with her BFF sunning it up on her honeymoon with Reid, then shacking up with him in LA, Chantal knew she’d rarely see her anymore.

  “Because speaking of man droughts…” Ashlin wrinkled her pert nose. “I’m in danger of causing a battery shortage in this city if I don’t get a date soon.”

  “I’m getting a vibe for you too, Ash,” Miranda said, pressing fingertips to her temples, as Chantal rolled her eyes. “So get ready to store your apparatus, babe, because I sense a guy coming into your life real soon.”

  At that moment, a brief knock sounded at the door before it opened and Wyatt barged into the office, head down, gaze glued to a small electronic device resembling a TV screen in his hand.

  “I’ve got a few last checks to do today,” he said, tapping at the screen with his free hand. “Then I’ll run a full diagnostic scan first thing in the morning.”

  “That’s fine,” Chantal said, watching Miranda’s eyes widen and enjoying Ashlin’s shell-shocked expression.

  She knew that expression. The expression of a woman knocked out of complacency and straight into lust hell.

  While Zane had a sex-god with a touch of bad-boy thing, Wyatt was equally appealing with his mussed, sexy geek going on.

  “We’ll get out of your way,” Chantal said, knowing it would take a few seconds for her ‘we’ to penetrate his concentration, and impatient to see if he returned Ashlin’s interest.

  Miranda elbowed her and murmured, “Damn, I’m good,” at the same time as Wyatt raised his head and locked eyes with Ashlin.

  He stopped half way across the office and Chantal could’ve sworn she saw him blush.

  “Wyatt, this is Miranda Pirelli, our yoga instructor, and that tall redhead you’re staring at is Ashlin O’Meara, the best choreographer in the business.”

  Chantal expected a death glare from Ashlin but her friend wasn’t willing to break the eye-lock with Wyatt, who didn’t glance in Miranda’s direction when she said hi.

  Ashlin finally moved. “Nice to meet you.” She held out her hand.

  “Hey,” Wyatt said, his understated greeting at odds with the way he didn’t seem to want to let go of Ashlin’s hand.

  “Maybe I’ll see you around,” Ashlin said, unconsciously flexing her fingers when he released her hand.

  “Maybe,” he said, his response a low mumble as he made a beeline for the corner of the office where his equipment was set up.

  Chantal knew once he started work he’d be lost to her, and while she enjoyed seeing the obvious sparks between Ashlin and Wyatt, she wanted to pump him for information about Zane.

  “Actually, girls, do you mind taking a rain check on that late supper?” Chantal pointed at her desk. “I’ve got some vacation schedules to juggle before I head home tonight.”

  “Okay,” Miranda said, dragging an obviously reluctant-to-leave Ashlin toward the door. “We’ll catch you tomorrow.”

  “Thanks,” Chantal said, smiling when Ashlin mimed a ‘call me’ sign with her hand to her ear.

  Chantal nodded and darted a glance in Wyatt’s direction, to find him staring at Ashlin like he’d seen a mirage.

  Yep, those two were so getting it on.

  “Sorry I interrupted,” Wyatt said, setting down his gizmo on top of a stack of other computer equipment that looked like something out of the future.

  Usually he’d get started without glancing her way but tonight, he sat in his chair and stared blankly at a screen he hadn’t turned on.

  “No problems, we were just chatting after our yoga class.” Chantal had to make good on her excuse to work so she sat behind her desk, when in fact she wanted to grill Wyatt as to why the hell his half-brother had dumped her before they’d begun.

  “Girls talk, huh?”

  “Yeah. Clothes. Boys. The usual.” Chantal grinned as Wyatt practically squirmed in discomfort. So she decided to make him squirm a little more. “Ashlin’s nice, don’t you think?”

  Wyatt startled as if he’d connected two incorrect wires and received a jolt. “They both seemed nice,” he said, sounding pained.

  Chantal couldn’t help laugh out loud. “She’s single, if you’re interested.”

  “Too much work,” he muttered, gesturing at his equipment.

  “That’s usually my excuse too,” she said, wishing that the one time she wanted to ditch the work to have fun with a guy, he hadn’t ditched her first.

  He eyed her with speculation. “Bet you’ve had more dates than me in the last decade though, work or otherwise.”

  “Doubt it. Besides, if Ashlin’s smitten expression was any indication, you’re the heartbreaker around here, not me.”

  He perked up. “You think she’s smitten?”

  “Bet my life on it.”

  He hesitated, before punching at a few buttons on the keyboard in front of him. “No point. I’ll be heading to Singapore for a job after this, then home to New Orleans.”

  Chantal knew a guy running scared when she saw one and if she couldn’t have a little fun, no reason why her friend Ashlin shouldn’t.

  “The work you’re doing here will take another week, yeah? Then aren’t you doing upgrades on some of the hotels?”

  Wyatt nodded, his gaze wary.

  “So ever heard of dating without the complication of a relationship?” She tempered her sarcasm with a smile. “Might do you both the world of good.”

  “I’ll think about it,” he said, ready to dismiss her when he angled his chair toward the screen.

  Hell, Chantal needed to probe him for info regarding Zane pronto.

  “How’s your brother?”

  “Kurt’s fine, as far as I know.” Wyatt eyed her over his screen with a distinct glint of mischief.

  Damn, he was onto her.

  “Zane too,” he added, watching her reaction carefully, his grin spreading. “We’ve hung out a bit over the last few evenings.”

  “That’s great.” Chantal couldn’t fault Zane for wanting to get to k
now his sibling. That’s why he’d travelled here after all. But a small part of her resented the fact he hadn’t had the decency to at least call.

  Until reality set in. He owed her nothing. They barely knew each other. Reid had asked her to show him around town as a favor. They’d been joint witnesses at Adele and Reid’s wedding. They’d talked a few times and shared one kiss. Not exactly grounds to build expectations. At least, not the kind she already had.

  She’d never been the type of woman to wait by the phone for any man. If she was interested in a guy, she let him know and moved forward at a pace that suited her. So the very fact she was angsty about not seeing Zane after only a few days was plain crazy.

  “You like him?”

  “Meh…” Chantal wavered her hand in a half-assed way and Wyatt laughed.

  “He seems like a good guy.” Wyatt’s smile reminded her so much of Zane she was tempted to pick up the phone right now. “And has excellent taste in women.”

  “Flatterer.”

  Wyatt held up his hands. “Hey, I only deal in cold, hard facts.”

  Liking Wyatt’s sense of humor, she pointed at his computer. “Don’t you have work to do?”

  “Yeah.” He paused. “Though I happen to know Zane’s room number if you’re interested?”

  “Think I’ll work from home after all,” she said, grabbing her gym bag and swiping her cell from her desk. “See you tomorrow.”

  Wyatt’s chuckles followed her out the door as she made a run for it. She had to run, because if she stayed one more moment in that office, she may be tempted to commit Zane’s room number to memory.

  Or worse, go pound down his door.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  For a guy who’d given Chantal the biggest brush-off of all time, Zane had no right fronting at her workplace with an offer guaranteed to get him slapped.

  But it was a risk he was willing to take. Because a woman like Chantal didn’t enter his life everyday and despite three days away from her, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her.

  He’d spent the last three days researching the sponsorship she’d mentioned; more particularly, the launch of the game he loved in Nevada.

  Aussie Rules football had been his passion since he’d picked up a ball at kinder and booted it clean over the fence. Steele hadn’t been interested in sports, preferring to channel his energy into video games, but Zane had always liked the physicality of tackling, running, bouncing, handballing and kicking.

  He felt alive on the field, recognized by his peers and coaches in a way he’d never been at home. His mum had done her best as a parent but he’d never known her as anything other than morose. She’d rarely smiled, let alone acknowledged his sporting achievements.

  Attending a top private school helped—courtesy of Christopher’s financial support-guilt money as he’d discovered—and when the scouts came knocking, his career had been sealed. The adulation and money had been heady for a young guy, but that hadn’t driven him. It had been the accolades, the tangible proof that people gave a shit about him when his own mother didn’t—and as it turned out, his father too.

  The irony was, even though he’d retired, he was still being courted by the game. Offered commentator positions. Endorsement deals. Even a lucrative TV host job at a major network for a late night footy panel.

  And he’d left it all behind temporarily to get to know his family.

  Christopher had texted him details of a tryout he’d organized, for a kicker position with the LA Owls. Zane had zero interest in playing NFL but this was the first thing his father had ever done for him and he’d be a fool to knock it back.

  Besides, this trip to LA could be a way for him to repay Chantal for introducing him to Wyatt, and a way to connect with her the way he wanted. Nice and slow, with a bit of romance thrown him.

  If she’d agree to his invitation.

  He strode to the back door of her venue when it swung open, almost knocking him on his arse.

  “Watch it, bozo…” Chantal’s eyes widened as she recognized him. Then the beguiling indigo turned glacial. “You here to see Wyatt?” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “He’s in my office.”

  “I’m here to see you,” he said, wishing this confident woman didn’t make him feel so lacking.

  He’d charmed women since he’d first pulled on a footy boot in the big league as a teen. It came as naturally to him as breathing. His teammates had equally admired and hated him for it. Now, he felt like a first gamer desperate for his first kick to mar the stat sheet.

  “I’m on my way out.” She made a grand show of looking at her watch. “Call next time—”

  “I’m heading to LA and want you to come with me,” he blurted, feeling foolish and sounding worse. “Sorry for not contacting you but I’ve been busy.”

  “You’re using some bullshit, lame-ass excuse on me?” Her eyes narrowed to fiery blue slits, her icy expression not thawing in the slightest. “You gave me the brush-off and now you want me to go to LA with you?”

  He only just heard her muttered, “Good luck with that.”

  But she hadn’t moved away and as long as she was willing to hear him out, he was in with a chance.

  “At the risk of sounding like an even bigger lame-ass, I didn’t call because I want to take this slow.”

  Her jaw dropped, like it was the last thing she expected him to say, and he rushed on.

  “I’ve spent the last three years acting like a dickhead out of resentment against Christopher. Drinking too much. Sleeping around.” He stared at his boots, feeling as low as the dirt under them. “With a lot of women. Quick, meaningless fucks to satisfy an urge. To burn off the frustration.” God, he was making a mess of this.

  “That’s why you walked away that night in the conference room, wasn’t it?” Her tone held no rancor and he glanced up, heartened to see grudging respect had replaced her anger. “You want me to be different?”

  Thank fuck she got it. “Yeah. At the risk of sounding like a soppy greeting card, I like you and I wanted to take things slower.”

  Her mouth relaxed a little. “To prove you’re not some heartless bastard who screws anything in a skirt?”

  “To prove I can still feel,” he said, the truth tumbling from his lips before he could stop it.

  Shit, there he went again, revealing too much to this woman, sounding like a goddamn idiot.

  “Good answer,” she said, stepping closer to slide her arms around his waist. “And yeah, I’ll come with you to LA.”

  “Great,” he said, instantly hard, knowing he wouldn’t be able to take things slow any longer when he had her in his hotel suite. “We leave on the red-eye tonight.”

  “Just to clarify, you’re inviting me to LA for a wild, raunchy getaway?”

  Hell yeah. “Is that what you want?”

  “Does this answer your question?” She leaned in, her lips grazing his as she pressed her hips into him. Undulated slowly. Performing a sinuous dance that had him backing her up against the door and plunging his tongue into her mouth in a no-holds-barred kiss that left them breathless and panting.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, resting his forehead against hers, wrestling with the urge to wait and say ‘fuck it, let’s head back to my hotel now’.

  “You betcha.” Pressing one last kiss against his lips, she eased out of his arms. “Rest up. You’re going to need it.”

  As he watched her sashay toward the car park, a figure-hugging white dress outlining every delectable curve, he didn’t doubt it for a second.

  Chantal propped her luggage against the wardrobe, crossed the suite at LA’s newest, funkiest hotel and sank onto the bed. She had to give it to Zane, the guy had class. Rather than booking one room, as she’d expected, he’d gotten two suites. With an interconnecting door. Smart guy.

  Propping on her outstretched arms, she leaned back and glanced around the room. Violet feature walls, black and white geometric prints, edgy black furniture and massive king-
size bed with pristine white covers. Contemporary designer chic at its best, the type of place she adored. The type of place she’d worked her ass off for years so she could afford to stay in. The type of place tailor-made for a dirty weekend away with a super hot footballer.

  So why was she feeling so damn fragile?

  Their plane trip had been relaxed. Conversation had flowed. She’d learned he liked the iconic Aussie staples: Tim Tams, Vegemite, Caramello Koalas. And hated snakes, clowns and losing. That his mom had been quiet and withdrawn. That when Steele had learned his father hadn’t been dead all these years but had abandoned them, he’d put his fist through a wall before declaring he’d never forgive their dad, ever.

  Zane had opened up to her in a way she hadn’t expected but the guy had secrets. She could tell. Because it took one to know one and she’d bet he thought the same thing when he looked into her eyes.

  Sure, she might’ve told him the basics, like her favorite foods, color and baseball team, but truths like what really drove her to leave Craye Canyon and start afresh in Vegas? On a strict need to know basis.

  The thing was, while Zane may have swayed her with his ‘I want to take things slow with you’ spiel, held her hand the entire flight and stared into her eyes while he told her snippets of his life, she knew what this weekend was about.

  A fuck fest.

  She knew that going in, and while she wanted it as much as he did, there was something about accepting his invitation that made her feel…lonely.

  Crazy, because she was a woman in control, a woman who demanded as good as she got, a woman surrounded by employees and friends on a daily basis, but sitting alone in this beautiful suite, contemplating the many facets Zane had revealed to her, she realized something.

  For the first time in her life, she wanted more than what she had.

  Maybe it was her purposeful man drought, but for some inexplicable reason, Zane sparked something in her, something far deeper than any guy had before. And she wanted to explore that, wanted to delve, wanted to see if she was capable of making more than a superficial connection.