Bold (4 page)

She’d done this in the past, sponsoring start-up small businesses, as a form of karmic payback for the support she’d received when she’d first bought Bombshells.

While she didn’t believe in coincidence, when the email had landed about the new Australian Rules teams trying to get off the ground in her state, Chantal couldn’t refuse.

Though her application for sponsorship hadn’t been entirely altruistic. Harrison Sporting Goods was providing all the gear for the competition. With Zane’s father involved, she hoped this could facilitate Zane’s goal of getting closer to his family. And in turn, help her get closer to him.

For while Zane flirted, the vibe she got off him since they’d met a few days ago screamed ‘friends’. She had enough friends. She needed a hot Aussie body to burn up her satin sheets with.

A body like Zane’s.

“Got a minute?” Zane stuck his head around the conference door and she jumped, hoping he couldn’t read her thoughts on her face. Thoughts that centered around him naked, sweaty and inside her.

“Sure, come in.”

She hadn’t expected him to take her up on her offer for a chat after his meeting with Wyatt. In fact, she’d half expected a drunken phone call tonight, after he’d consumed a keg of beer, to berate her for sticking her nose where it didn’t belong.

Women handled the tough stuff with chocolate and ice cream. Men turned to alcohol.

“How’d it go?”

“Good.” He turned a chair around and sat, resting his forearms on the back. “We’re having a beer later.”

Relieved, she smiled. “That’s great.”

“Yeah, it is.” He drummed his fingers against the back of the chair, appearing edgy, like he wanted to rush out and grab that beer with Wyatt now. “Freaked me out, how much he resembles my brother, Steele.”

“And you.” She pointed at his face. “Those Harrison genes must be pretty strong.”

He stiffened, a frown marring his brow. “My dad only told Wyatt about Steele and me yesterday.”

“How’d he take the news?”

“Stunned, I guess. Though he wanted to meet us.”

“That’s good, right?”

“Yeah.” He didn’t sound convinced and Chantal clamped down on the urge to hug him.

“Wyatt’s not close to our dad. Calls him Christopher.” He stared at her, a heart-wrenching mix of sadness, regret and hope in his eyes. “What if our dad’s a real prick?”

Chantal empathized. She’d wondered the same thing before she’d met her father for the first time. Wondered if he had known about her existence before she’d rung him out of the blue saying ‘surprise, you have an eighteen year old daughter and by the way, did you really not know about me?’

“Only one way to find out,” she said, trying to keep her voice upbeat. “You’ll judge for yourself when you meet him. While I don’t know Christopher personally, he’s head of a major sporting goods conglomerate. From what I’ve seen, Wyatt’s an IT geek. Doubt they’d have much in common.”

“Yeah, you’re right, but he seemed pretty bitter.” Zane shrugged. “Christopher’s Skyping me tonight.”

Chantal schooled her face not to show her surprise. Zane’s first meeting with his dad was via Skype? Zane had flown half way around the world to meet his dad and the old guy couldn’t make an effort to meet face to face? Lame.

But the last thing he needed right now was her passing judgment on his father so she kept her tone neutral. “He’s out of the country?”

Disappointment clouded his eyes and she had her answer before he spoke. “No, he’s in LA but busy with a business deal.”

Chantal had a feeling Zane’s earlier assessment of Christopher was right: he was a real prick.

Hopefully her news would cheer him up a tad.

“Maybe he’s busy working on the new Australian Rules football expansion in the States?”

Zane snickered. “Aussie Rules here? It’ll never take off.”

“Well, it better, because I’m sponsoring it.”

His eyes widened. “What?”

“I often sponsor small businesses and this opportunity just landed in my lap.” She pointed at her cell. “The email came through while you were with Wyatt. I get advertising on the jerseys and shorts, and on billboards at the various arenas, the new Nevada Aussie football league gets a cash injection.”

His eyebrows rose. “You’re serious?”

“Yep, and there’s more.” She wasn’t sure how he’d take the next piece of news. “Harrison Sporting Goods is supplying gear to all the teams. And balls, goal posts, the lot, for the league.”

She smiled, trying to make light of her nerves, considering Zane hadn’t said a thing and stared at her like she’d made a deal with the devil. “Win-win for your dad’s business and mine.”

“Sounds like a good arrangement.” He tilted his head, studied her. “Though I have to admit, ever since I met you it feels like our worlds are colliding.”

“The cosmos’s way of banging our heads together?”

“More like pushing us together.” His slow grin made her heart ka-thump. “Or are you plain stalking me?”

She snorted. “Yeah, sure, I orchestrated your half-brother to be my IT consultant, then went after a sponsorship deal because your dad’s involved.”

Okay, so the second admission wasn’t a far stretch, considering that’s exactly what she’d done. But there’d been enough revelations for one day and Zane had enough to process without adding ‘smitten kitten’ to his woes.

“Wouldn’t be the first time a woman’s gone to crazy lengths to get a piece of this.” He squared his shoulders, flexed his biceps and burst into laughter.

“I’ll bet.” She squeezed one of his biceps and gulped. Hard, rigid muscle. Hard enough for a girl to hang onto as she rode him all night. “Impressive.”

“So do you?” He lowered his arms and she reluctantly removed her hand.

“Do I what?”

“Want a piece of me?” He leaned forward and wiggled his eyebrows in exaggerated mockery.

“You have no idea how much,” she said, lowering her tone to just above a whisper, low, suggestive, wanting to tease him as much as he was teasing her.

As she waited for him to fire back, something shifted between them. A change in air currents. A rising of the temperature. Because in a second, Chantal felt like she was burning up from the inside out as he stared at her with a blistering intensity that set her skin alight.

“I’ve got that family stuff on tonight, but how about we have an official date tomorrow night?” He reached out and brushed strands of hair off her cheek, his thumb grazing her skin making her tingle all the way down to her toes. “You can show me the sights.”

With her body aflame, the only sights Chantal wanted to show him were beneath her suit. “Sounds good.”

“Great, I’ll call you tomorrow, set it up.”

They stared at each other for an eternity as she willed him to kiss her. Willed it with every yearning cell in her being.

She’d never been shy with guys before, happy to make the first move. But there was something about Zane that made her feel girlish.

The big, brawny Aussie had hero tattooed all over and for a girl who’d never believed in fairytales, she had a distinct yearning to be rescued by him.

“God, you’re irresistible,” he said, a second before his hand splayed against the back of her head, eased her forward and his mouth slammed hers.

Even though she’d wanted the kiss, she hadn’t expected this cataclysmic fusion of lips and tongues that addled her brain, hotwired her body and made her crave things she shouldn’t.

He tasted like mint, smelled like heaven, and kissed like a dream.

The hot Aussie jock wasn’t just skilled on the football field.

He angled her head, gained greater access, plying her with changes of pressure with his lips until she couldn’t think straight, her muscles mush. She was drowning in a sea of desire and had no intention of coming up for air any time soon.

She reached for him blindly, encountered hard chest, but as her hand snaked between the buttons of his shirt he stilled and wrenched his mouth away.

His chest heaved, his breathing ragged as he stared at her in wonder. “I have to get out of here before I do you on this conference table.”

Her knees wobbled at the thought. “And that would be bad because?”

He dragged his gaze away from her mouth, shook his head. “I can’t. Not like this.”

Before she could ask what his prudish funk was all about, he touched her cheek with a fleeting fingertip and left.

Zane spent the afternoon in the hotel gym, burning off his frustration.

He’d stuffed up with Chantal. Again.

Last night, he’d revealed too much emotionally.

Today, he’d acted like a guy with sexual problems.

Fuck.

He wanted a fresh start. A chance at a new beginning. And he’d be a fool to deny Chantal wasn’t part of that. He wanted to do things differently with her. Wanted to take it slower, despite his baser instincts insisting otherwise.

The old Zane would’ve fucked her on that conference table, not caring if the door was locked or not. He’d had an audience before and it hadn’t bothered him. Sharing hotel rooms on road-trips with teammates meant he’d seen stuff, done stuff. Not threesomes or foursomes, but if he’d had a girl and his teammate had a girl at the same time in the same room…

He’d been a dog where women were concerned, especially in the last few years when he’d been trying to get a grip on his life off the field. He’d done it all. Quickie sex. Drunk sex. Meaningless sex. Anything to rid his mind of the constant questions plaguing him. Questions centered on why Christopher had left his kids without looking back and why his own father didn’t want to know him for the past umpteen years.

With Chantal, he didn’t want a quick, meaningless fuck. He wanted to pleasure her all night long. Take time to explore her body. Taste her. Fill her.

That’s the only reason he’d walked away from her in that conference room.

Because he wanted sex with her to be different.

Damn, it had been tough. She’d tasted like coffee and sin. Her lips demanding and giving. Her mouth lush and hot. He got a boner every time he remembered, hence the punishing gym workout. It may have taken the edge off but he knew the memories of that kiss would keep him up all night. Literally.

After a shower and room service, he flipped open his laptop and waited for the call from his dad.

How many hours had he spent on the Internet, gathering as much information as he could on the man he should love but could barely respect? Countless hours, learning about Christopher Harrison’s ruthless business acumen and knack for buying up sporting good stores and turning them into emporiums. The millions he’d made. The basketball, football and baseball teams who swore his goods were the best.

The images had been worse. Countless pictures of Christopher Harrison at Super Bowls, movie premieres and nightclub openings. And many pics of him with his superstar son Kurt, pre and post-game at NFL matches across the country.

Those had been the ones that hurt the most, because while dear old dad had been there for every one of Kurt’s touchdowns, he hadn’t seen—or been interested in seeing—a single one of his goals or awards.

“Fuck.” He knocked back a bourbon, straight, needing the alcohol to burn away the resentment that constantly reared whenever he thought of all he’d lost.

Christopher couldn’t even make the effort to meet him person, that’s how little he meant to him.

But Zane had questions, many questions, and deep down he knew he’d never be able to move on with his life in the way he wanted without getting answers.

It had taken him three years to get to this point, three long years of doing dumb-arse things to burn off his anger, three years to come to grips with confronting his father. An empty title for a man he didn’t know, a man who didn’t give a shit about his Australian-born sons.

The call button beeped and with a less than steady hand, Zane hit the answer button.

When his father’s face popped up on the screen, an ache bloomed in Zane’s chest and squeezed his throat tight.

He’d stared at Christopher’s face online for hours, studying every crease, every sunspot, every laugh line. He’d tried to see a resemblance between this man and himself, but had come up empty.

He’d had three years to prepare for this moment, thirty-six long months to exhaust his anger but it still smoldered, making him feel sick to his stomach.

“Good to meet you, Son.” Christopher Harrison raised his hand in a casual wave, as if meeting offspring was something he did every day. “Sorry I couldn’t be there in person.”

Zane found himself about to say, ‘that’s okay,’ but it wasn’t. Nothing was okay, not since the day this man chose to walk out on one family to start a new one.

“Why’d you do it? Leave us and pretend we didn’t exist.” His voice sounded gravelly, hoarse, like he’d swallowed razorblades. And as his throat tightened further, Zane had no idea if it was the latent fury he’d tried to exhaust over the last few years or the damning lump of emotion akin to tears making speech difficult.

If he expected Christopher to blanche and look guilty, he’d be waiting a long time. Because the squared shoulders and steely glint in Christopher’s unflinching gaze indicated his father wasn’t sorry or ashamed for what he’d done. Bastard.

“Is that how we’re going to do this?” Christopher’s upper lip curled slightly. “You laying a guilt trip on me?”

Reining in his rising temper, Zane shook his head. “It’s not too much to expect answers.”

Christopher gave a terse nod, his glare defiant. “Marriages implode. Your mother and I had problems for a long time before I left.”

“So Steele and I were a patch-up job? Failed attempts to save your marriage?”

Christopher shrugged, his nonchalance as aggravating as his lack of remorse. “We tried. We didn’t make it. Then I met Lu-Lu and divorce seemed like the sensible option.”

Zane wanted to yell ‘you gave up on us!’ But he didn’t. Because the answers his father had just given barely scratched the surface. Trite responses that meant nothing. Patronizing and placating. And not good enough, not by a long shot.

“I get that one in three marriages end in divorce. But that doesn’t mean” —Zane cleared his throat, mortified when he could barely speak past the lump of emotion— “you had to turn your back on your kids.”