In His Good Hands (12 page)

“Does any of that interest translate into someone actually wanting to hand over money?”

“Oh, yes.” The agent practically chortled. “This afternoon I presided over a brief but intense bidding war.”

Brett paced the room. “And…?”

“The final bid, which I accepted on your behalf, also per your instructions to balance a speedy sale with maximum price, was $190,000.”

“Say that again?” Brett’s heart was beating so loudly he could hardly hear.

“One hundred and ninety thousand dollars.”

Brett dropped onto a kitchen chair with a thump. He released a noisy breath. “How long before I can get the money?”

“I should have a bank check couriered to you by the end of the week.”

“Thank you very much, Mr. Toltz. It’s been great doing business with you.” Brett discussed details of the transaction with the dealer and then hung up.

His mind whirled. He still had thirty-odd thousand left of the second loan. That would be enough to put down a deposit on new exercise equipment. Once the check for the Brownlow Medal was cleared into his bank account, he could pay the balance.

He had the fizzing-with-excitement, slightly sick feeling he got when running out onto the field before a big game. The roaring in his ears seemed to come from a faraway crowd, cheering him on.

Action. It’s what he’d trained so hard for all his life. It’s what he was good at.

He ran upstairs to his bedroom and from the top of his dresser took down his manila folder with the itemized list of exercise machines. Seating himself at the desk, he booted up his laptop. His body hummed along with the computer.

The website he wanted was bookmarked. A few keystrokes sent him to the order form. He started checking boxes, six of this, six of that. He had to do without a couple of items because he didn’t have quite enough money. But close enough. Bloody well close enough.

He filled in his bank account details, authorizing a direct debit for the deposit on Monday of the following week. He held his finger poised over the submit button, savoring the triumph of the moment.

Then, taking a deep breath, he hit Send.

After that, Brett was so pumped that even though it was nearly dark he put on his shorts and running shoes. He needed to get rid of some of his energy.

“Tegan,” he called over her pop music as he passed her bedroom. “I’m going for a run.”

Her door burst open. “First can you sign this form saying you’re going to chaperone the dance? I have to take it back to school on Monday.”

“Oh, right.” The dance. He wasn’t looking forward to spending the evening riding herd on a bunch of teenagers. “Why do you want me to do this so badly? Most kids wouldn’t want their parents at a dance,” he said, reading over the information.

“If you go, then I’ll know at least
someone
will talk to me.”

He glanced up in surprise. Where had his confident-to-the-point-of-cocky daughter gone? “Don’t the other kids talk to you?”

“They’re all stuck-up.”

“What about Amy?”

Tegan shrugged, her mouth turned down, a crease between her eyebrows. “She didn’t choose me as a partner for sailing. The instructor put us together.”

Brett’s conscience pricked. Tegan was unhappy. And he knew practically nothing about what was happening in her life. How would he? He spent all his time at the gym. And when she spoke to him he barely listened. Remorse dampened the exhilaration of his purchases.

“You’re going to be the prettiest girl there,” he told her as he scribbled his name. “You can be my date.”

Tegan took the form and gave him a hug, “Thanks, Daddy.”

She hadn’t called him Daddy in years. He hugged her back extra hard. “I’ll be home soon, kiddo. Then we’ll watch a movie together.”

He headed down the stairs, pausing in the foyer to glance through the arched doorway at the fireplace. And the empty spot on the mantelpiece. Selling his Brownlow Medal had been like selling a piece of himself.

He should have told Tegan. She’d been with him and Amber at the awards night when he’d won the medal. His daughter was the most important person in his life. How had he let himself get so estranged from her?

He knelt to tie his running shoes with jerking motions. The medal was gone. He had to get used to it. In its place he would have a bright, shiny Brett O’Connor Fitness Center.

Instead of taking his usual route he jogged in the other direction, away from the beach, up the hill. To Renita’s. Okay, so he was gloating. He deserved to crow after she’d turned him down for the money, twice.

As he reached her driveway and approached the gray weatherboard house with white trim, an attractive woman with chin-length hair, wearing a softly clinging dress, came out of the house. It took him a moment to realize it was Renita. He stopped in his tracks.

She swung her purse over her shoulder, car keys jingling in her hand. “Hey, Brett.”

“Renita.” She looked so good he was hard-pressed not to whistle. “I like your hair.”

“Thanks.” She smiled.

“In fact, you’re looking pretty hot.”

She started to touch her hair, then caught herself. She nodded. “What’s up?”

“I came to tell you I finally ordered gym equipment.”

“Wonderful. What did you buy?”

“Treadmills, steppers, stationary bikes. I got everything I wanted.” Just saying that made his spirits soar.

Renita came a step closer. “You must have got a good deal. I guess used equipment is a lot cheaper.”

“I bought brand-new.”

“But…” She frowned. “Where did you get the money?”

“I sold my Brownlow Medal.” He said it sharp and hard, knowing she’d be shocked. Hell, he hoped she’d feel guilty.

“Your Brownlow? Oh, Brett!” Renita stared at him, as shocked as he’d hoped she would be. “You didn’t.”

“I had to.”

“Is the gym worth that much to you?”

“
More.
I’m not going to be some has-been athlete reduced to coaching boys’ football. Maybe in ten or fifteen years I’d like that. But right now, I want to build a business, make it grow and thrive.”

“But your Brownlow!”

“I know.” In truth, he felt as ill about that as she looked. But he had the equipment.

“How much did you get for it?”

“One hundred and ninety thousand dollars. That plus what I had left from the second loan was just enough to buy what I needed.”

“This is awful. I—I don’t know what to say.”

“How about ‘I’m sorry, Brett. I made a mistake in not trusting you.’”

Her expression turned cool. “I’m sorry you had to sell something so precious to you. I hope it was worth the sacrifice.”

“Given the lack of support from my local bank, I didn’t have any choice.”

“No choice?” she repeated. “You had choices—to buy used, go slow, build slowly.” She shook her head. “On second thought, we’re talking about the most impatient man I know. Maybe you didn’t have a choice. Was Tegan okay with selling the medal?”

Suddenly he lost the urge to rub Renita’s nose in his success.

“Tegan understands.” At least, he hoped she would one day.

“I hope so.” Renita glanced down at her keys, picking out the one for her car. “You’ll have to excuse me. I’m late.”

It occurred to him suddenly that she might have a boyfriend. “Are you going on a date?” He’d just assumed she was single. A foolish assumption, he realized now.

“I’m going to J—” She broke off, lifted her chin. “I’m going out for dinner. Was there anything else?”

She looked so pretty. “Is that a new dress?” he asked.

“I’ve had it for a few years. I haven’t been able to fit into it until recently.” She put the key in the car door.

His next words were out before he knew what he was saying. “This dance of Tegan’s, the one I have to chaperone…”

Renita glanced up. “Yes?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to go with me.” He hadn’t planned to ask her. This encounter wasn’t turning out at all the way he’d envisioned.

She stared at him. “You’re asking me to the school dance?”

It seemed ludicrous when she put it that way. “I know it’s not the most thrilling night out.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Renita said drily. “I never went to a school dance.”

Now who was applying the guilt?

“It won’t be that much fun. Having your toes stepped on by clumsy boys, stopping kids from spiking the punch, and monitoring dark hallways for drunken, groping teenagers.”

“You’re really making this sound like an attractive proposition.” She tilted her head to one side, setting a dangling earring swinging. “I just don’t understand why you’re asking me.”

He was starting to wish he hadn’t started this. Perspiration prickled around his hairline.

“Is it because Tegan wants you to have a date?”

“No.” In fact, he realized belatedly, Tegan might not be happy about sharing him.

“Are you feeling sorry for me, or guilty over what happened in grade eleven?” Renita asked sharply. “Because we’ve been over this. You don’t need to, not for a second.”

“No, it’s not that, either.”

“Then why?” She hesitated, as if the next question was a difficult one to ask. “Is it because of how I look now?”

Well, yeah.
Until tonight it had never occurred to him to ask Renita out on a date. She’d changed. She’d become more desirable. Not just because of the weight loss, but her hair, contact lenses, new clothes…. What was wrong with him responding to that? Although even he was smart enough to understand she wouldn’t see it the way a guy did.

“It would be more fun if you came with me,” he said finally. “Do you want to go or not?”

“I’ll check my diary to see if I’m available. Then I’ll have to think about it. A high school dance is exciting when you’re fifteen, but at thirty-two? As a chaperone?” She rolled her eyes. “Not so much.”

Was she going for payback? She was sure as hell making him sweat. “It’s next Saturday. Eight o’clock.”

She unlocked her car and climbed in, leaving him with a glimpse of smooth bare calf. Then the driver’s-side window rolled down. She smiled as she backed out past him. “I’ll let you know.”

Renita leaned close to Lexie, who was sitting next to her. “Brett asked me on a date.”

“Ooh!” her sister squealed.

“Shh!” Renita poked her in the ribs. “I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

“You did it! You’ve succeeded in capturing Brett’s attention—after all these years.”

“And now that I have it, I can see how immature I was being. I need to move on.”

“But you’ve got him hooked. That’s so cool.”

“At first when he dropped by he was trying to make me feel bad because he sold his Brownlow Medal to pay for fitness equipment after I wouldn’t lend him the money.”

“Those medals mean a lot, don’t they? I don’t follow football, but even I know that.”

“Yes, and I do feel bad. I feel sick about it.”

“You had good reasons for not giving him the loan, though, right?”

“Bank guidelines are very strict. He seems to take it so personally, though. He was still angry.”

“So why would he want to go out with you?”

“He wouldn’t admit it, but I think it’s because I look more attractive. Are men really that shallow? What about my personality? That hasn’t changed.”

“Maybe he always liked you. Now he desires you, too. Men are very visual. I don’t see a problem.” Lexie leaned forward eagerly. “Where is he taking you?”

“To help chaperone Tegan’s school dance.”

“Oh.” She sat back.

“I know. It’s not exactly a night on the town.” Renita sipped her wine, savoring the taste all the more because she allowed herself so little.

“Do you want to go?” Lexie asked.

“It’s an excuse to wear my new dress.”

“Not a good enough reason.” Her sister tucked her hair back with paint-stained fingers. “Do you like him?”

“He drives me crazy.” She nibbled at a small forkful of risotto, mentally counting calories. Jack didn’t stint on butter and Parmesan.

“That doesn’t answer my question.” Lexie tipped her head to one side. “Or does it?”

“I don’t know.” Renita waved her fork. “I can’t tell if what I’m feeling is a maudlin crush from high school or if I like the man he is now.”

“
I
think he’s terrific. You know the broccoli salad Dad brought tonight? Brett taught him how to make it.”

Renita’s eyebrows rose. “I thought Sienna made the salad.”

“Nope. Dad was telling me about it before you arrived. Brett came over to his place earlier this week with all the ingredients. He made Dad watch and write down the recipe. That’s over and above, in my opinion.”

“And Dad actually followed up by making the dish,” Renita mused. “He’s starting to take responsibility.”

Across the table, Jack began to tell an anecdote about the marathon he and Carl had recently competed in.

“We were neck and neck, with fifty yards to the finish line, when the guy beside Carl stumbled and fell,” Jack said, holding the attention of the whole table. “Carl stopped to help him up and get him to the sidelines.”

Carl waved off the general murmur of approbation. “Jack was pulling ahead. I took the easy out.”

“Bull. You were a nose in front,” Jack replied with a grin. “Tripping the competition was my only hope.”

Amid the laughter, Lexie nudged Renita. “Carl’s hot, isn’t he? He’s been glancing your way all evening.”

“No way,” Renita said automatically. Carl was an Iron Man athlete. Plus he was tall and good-looking. Men of his caliber didn’t give her the eye.

“What about the guy you brought tonight— Bruce?” she asked her sister. “Is he ‘the one’?”

With a rueful smile, Lexie shook her head. “He just broke up with his boyfriend. There are no good straight men my age who are single.”

“Thirty-eight isn’t old. You’ll meet someone,” Renita declared. “When you least expect it.”

“I don’t have time for a man right now, anyway,” Lexie said. “I’m busy with my painting and will be for months.” She pushed her empty plate away. “So, what are you going to do about Brett?”

Renita didn’t answer immediately. Her feelings were so mixed up. That he’d gone back to give Steve a cooking lesson surprised her. Brett wasn’t all talk. He cared about people.

So should she go to the dance with him, when she’d only considered it as a way of showing him what he was missing? That wasn’t any better reason than wearing a new dress.

Tegan wouldn’t like it, either.

“We’ll have dessert in the living room,” Sienna announced, rising. “Who wants coffee?”

As the group moved slowly into the other room, topping up wineglasses or getting water, Renita found herself next to Carl.

“I haven’t had a chance to talk to you tonight,” he said. “Jack told me he had sisters, but he didn’t mention how attractive they were.”

Renita felt the heat climb her cheeks. “Lexie’s the pretty one.”

“I don’t know about that,” Carl said, smiling. “I prefer brunettes.”

He sat next to her on the couch, his thigh touching hers, his shoulders twisted slightly sideways so he could talk to her more easily. While they ate cheese-cake—another thousand calories—he told her about his job as second officer on the jumbo jets that flew the Asia routes, and about his dog, a boxer named Mojo.

The evening gradually wound to a close. Steve left first, then Lexie and Bruce. Renita and Carl were left alone on the couch while Jack and Sienna carried cups and plates to the kitchen.

“It’s getting late,” Renita said, suddenly feeling self-conscious to be sitting so close.

“I’m flying to Bangkok tomorrow morning,” Carl said. “Can I call you when I get back in a few days? I’ve got a small plane out at the airfield where Jack keeps his. We could fly up to Sydney for the day next weekend. Have lunch on the waterfront. What do you say?”

Renita blinked up at his ruggedly handsome face. He was interesting, well traveled, and he loved dogs. She ought to be jumping at the opportunity to get to know him better.

“I can’t believe I’m going to turn down lunch in Sydney,” she replied. “Next Saturday I have a date to go to my first high school dance.”