The Heartbroker (7 page)

He laughs his warm, comforting laugh. “I guess I am, then.”

“Well, each to their own. Just as long as you don’t run around wearing pointy elf ears with long cloaks, or re-enact violent battle scenes or something.”

“No, I don’t do that,” he chuckles. “Definitely not. Although I am a big fan. I’ve read all of the books, seen all the movies, and I have to admit I put my hand up for this trip as I’ve been keen to visit New Zealand ever since I saw the first Lord of the Rings movie years ago. My buddy Chad, who was with me at the restaurant, travelled around with me. In fact, that’s why we left with Lu that night. She showed us a bar we’d heard the stars in the movies used to drink at.”

“Oh, I see.” I know full well she would want to show him a lot more than some bar. “Where did you and Chad go on your travels?” I ask, thanking the waiter for my margarita as he put it on the table in front of me.

“Well, before I came to Wellington to meet you I did the tour around Hobbiton in the North Island. They shot a lot of Middle Earth scenes there. I also went to Roto-ah—” he struggles with the name.

“Rotorua? Where all the thermal activity is?”

“Yes, that’s the one. With all the geysers, hot pools, and the boiling mud. It was all so amazing. Stinky, but amazing.”

I laugh. Rotorua’s thermal activity makes the whole place smell a little like a rotten egg, but once you’ve been there for a while, you barely notice it.

“And then before you got here I did a tour of all the sites they filmed around Queenstown. There are loads of scenes shot here for The Hobbit, Lord of the Rings, as well as others, like The Narnia movies. It is such a beautiful place. You have no idea how lucky you are to live here.”

Although I’ve enjoyed The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings movies, I wouldn’t call myself a big fan, and I can’t imagine ever taking a tour of the filming locations. But his enthusiasm is so cute, making him even more attractive: something I thought wasn’t humanly possible until this moment.

Any second now I’m going to melt into my chair so I change to a neutral, non-melty subject. I choose a topic close to my heart: our potential partnership deal. “What do you think of our operation so far? I know you haven’t seen us in action yet, but you’ve had a chance to look through the material we provided and get to know us a little, right?”

“Yes. I have. And I have to admit,
Live It
is one inspiring organization. You’ve got quite the business there, Brooke.”

“Thank you. We think so too.” I swell with pride. It’s been hard work and years in the making, but I have to agree with Logan: we’ve built a fantastic little company. It’s up to him and
You: Now
to help us get to the next level.

“Brad Stephenson is arriving in the morning. He works closely with our seminar leaders and is excited to meet you and attend the seminar.”

“Yes, I’m looking forward to meeting Brad. I’ve only ever talked with him on the ’phone.”

“Brad’s great. He’s been working for us for a few years now and has an amazing rapport with our attendees. He started out as a leader, but now is in a senior management role. He can’t help but get involved, though. I guess it’s in his blood.”

Brad Stephenson is the final piece in the puzzle. If we get his thumbs up as well, our partnership deal is all but signed.

“It all kicks off tomorrow afternoon?” he asks, draining his margarita and signalling to the waiter to bring us each another.

“It does. The attendees are set to arrive at the venue at four and we start at four-thirty sharp. It’s important we stick to our schedule, I’m sure you’ll agree, as we have so much to get through. The Friday session runs until ten with a dinner break about half way through. I like the Friday sessions as we introduce what we’re going to do for the rest of the weekend, and get people fired up about it. There’s always lots of excitement and energy in the room.”

“I bet,” he replies. “What’s your involvement?”

“I’m the first speaker of the seminar. I welcome everyone, tell them what
Live It
is about, what they should expect from the weekend, that sort of thing. I’m not a seminar leader, so it’s my main contribution to the attendees over the weekend.”

“Your work is done after the initial session tomorrow?”

“Yes, my official work is done. But I like to be on hand, in case I’m needed.”

I’m very comfortable in talking about my work, and find myself waxing lyrical about the different elements of our programme, the way in which our attendees respond, and the successes we’ve been involved in. I’m pretty sure my eloquence has been lubricated by the margarita that’s been going down rather well. The evening zings by.

“It is such a privilege to be able to help someone see the negative thought patterns they’ve been imprisoned by for so many years, and to help them form new ways of thinking,” I say after we’ve finished our delicious meal.

“I can tell you’re passionate about what you do, Brooke.” His face creases into his oh-so-sexy smile, and I have to avert my eyes to avoid becoming lost in them.

I clear my throat. “Speaking of work, I need to get back to the hotel and finish up some things before tomorrow. Shall we get the bill?”

“By which you mean ‘the check’?” he asks with a chuckle. “Of course,” he replies, as I get our waiter’s attention by doing the international hand sign for the bill.

We amble back to the hotel together, taking in the twinkling lights surrounding the lake. It’s impossibly romantic, and if Logan McManus didn’t hold my future in his hands, I would be in very real danger of falling for him tonight.

“Okay, it’s your turn. What else do Kiwis say differently from Americans?” I ask as we amble back to the hotel by the shore.

“We say ‘trunk’ and you say ‘boot’, right?”

I nod.

“You have to admit, that one is weird. A boot is something you wear on your foot, not put your groceries into.”

“I’ll give you that one, but
you
have to admit saying ‘lift’ for ‘elevator’ is so much more efficient.”

“Well, if your goal is efficiency, then yes, I guess it is,” he says with a chortle. “Jocelyn uses some odd expressions. Sometimes she says something and I seriously have no clue she’s even speaking English.”

I laugh. “You need a degree in Kiwi slang to understand her half the time. Don’t worry, I’ll translate for you.”

He stops walking and turns to face me. “Hey, I have another one. A smile twitches at the corners of his mouth. “’What’s a ‘pash’?”

I swallow hard as my mind shoots to our tonsil activity this afternoon.

“Oh, umm—”. I look down, suddenly self-conscious as I try to think of how to answer.

“The guy in the boat at the bungy jump used it.” As though our kiss isn’t seared into my memory.

He takes a step closer to me. I look up at him and notice he has that mischievous grin on his face again: he’s thoroughly enjoying teasing me.

“Brooke. Our kiss was unbelievable.” His voice is sexy and gruff as he gazes into my eyes.

As I look at him, something moves in my chest.

I clear my throat and look away, my heart quickening. Damn this man! Just when I think I’m back on top of my feelings for him, he reels me back in with expert ease.

“I can tell this is making you uncomfortable, Brooke, and I’m sorry. But I was kind of hoping we might be able to… ’
pash
’ again.” He raises his eyebrows at me.

My body betrays me once more, and my Girly Bits begin that humming they seem to love to do whenever Logan’s around. ‘
Oooh, the things we could do with him
,’ they coo.

To my eternal gratitude my rational brain—which seems to have been on holiday since I met Logan, lazily sipping cocktails by the pool—kicks in. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. This afternoon was a heat of the moment thing, you know? Kind of like the adrenalin from doing the jump made us act in a way we wouldn’t usually. I mean, we had both just cheated
death
, when you think about it. Hadn’t we?”

“I guess.” He looks dubious.

“So let’s leave it at that, okay? Can we just say it was a ‘bungy thing’?”

“A ‘bungy thing’,” he repeats.

“Exactly.” I’m awe-struck by my strength in the face of such unbelievably sexy odds.

“Well, if that’s the way you want it,” he begins as I chance a direct look up into his eyes, “can we go do another jump right now?” He grins from ear to ear, and my Girly Bits scream at me again. ‘
Come to mama!’

This man was sent to test me. Of that I am now certain.

I laugh and shake my head at him. “You’re nothing if not persistent, Mr McManus. I’ll give you that.” My tone belies the lust for him seeping out of my every pore.

With willpower of steel I turn away from him and begin walking somewhat shakily towards the hotel.

“Well, you can’t blame a guy for trying,” he replies, hooking his arm through mine.

My body stiffens at his touch. I want him so much I have to resist the urge to rip my panties off and throw them in the air, groaning ‘
take me now, tiger
!’

What’s more, my heart feels something else. And I don’t like it. No ma’am, I most certainly do not.

We arrive back at our hotel. Knowing my resolve is on shakier ground than during a magnitude seven earthquake, I decide it’s safest to bid Logan goodnight in the lobby and most certainly not at my bedroom door.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Logan. And I look forward to meeting Brad then, too.” I smile my most ‘I’m-a-successful-and-focused-businesswoman’ smile at him and put my hand out to shake his.

He takes my proffered hand, leans in, and kisses me on the cheek. His breath is warm against my face, sending shivers down my neck.

“You know, I think we both missed a real opportunity here.” His voice is quiet.

I look into his eyes and hold his gaze for a moment too long as my heart hammers in my chest. My mind darts to
Four Weddings and a Funeral
, when Andie McDowell says that very thing to Hugh Grant. And we all know they were destined to be together.

I shake the image out of my head. I know I’ve made the right decision.

“Goodnight, Brooke. Thank you for a great day.”

Time to turn around and head to your room, Brooke. Alone.

As though on autopilot, I blink several times to break his hold on me, turn on my high heels, and walk towards the lift. I hold my head high, knowing I have shown impressive determination in resisting his deeply alluring charms.

As I close my bedroom door behind me, I lean against it, my head abuzz with thoughts of him. I take a steadying breath, my reinstated rational brain telling me I’ve done the right thing.

But my heart—and my body—unquestionably disagrees.

I’M UP BRIGHT AND early the next morning, out on my regular morning run. It’s another stunning day, crisp and cool, with a smattering of clouds hanging low around the mountains, serving only to make the view even more picture perfect than it was yesterday.

As usual, my run helps me clear my head and prepare for the day. The introduction evening is always a big event. There’s so much to do to prepare for it and we all have a few pre-seminar nerves.

But today my mind is full to the brim with more than just the upcoming seminar. Thoughts of Logan keep invading my every thought. And he’s a persistent man, I can tell you: no sooner have I dragged my brain away from thinking about him to concentrate on what I’m planning to say in my opening remarks, something cute or amusing he said the night before barges back in, taking over again.

It’s like he’s infiltrated my every thought, short-circuiting any hope of conducting a productive day.

I arrive back at the hotel after my run and think better of diving into the pool in order to cool off, remembering the cringe worthy ‘Almost-Naked-Gate’ incident yesterday morning.

Instead, I make it back to my room, where I jump into the shower, hoping to wash away my desire for him, the desire that could be my ruin.

After I’m dressed I begin the transformation required to make my hair look effortlessly done. I spritz it with product, blow dry it in sections, then apply my trusty hair straighteners. It’s quite the process.

I’m not the kind of girl who can get dressed, throw on a bit of lip-gloss and head out the door, confident I look a million bucks. Sadly, no. That’s more my sister Grace’s style, not mine. This takes time, people.

Stefan, Jocelyn, and the team arrive mid-morning, and the rest of the day is spent organising the final details for the seminar.

As head of promotion and marketing, Stefan doesn’t need to be here, but he offered to come along for the weekend to act as support, tagging on a trip to see his family in Dunedin on the way home.

“You look great, Brooke. The southern air must be good for you.” Stefan gives me a quick hug.

“Thanks.” I blush, thankful Stefan can’t read my mind.

He shoots me a quizzical look and I turn away from him and begin to busy myself with the seminar paperwork.

“And how
is
The Player? Managed to keep his hands off you, has he?”

“What?” My voice is possibly more than a fraction high. “You’re dreaming.”

“Come on, Brooke. You’re a hot chick and he’s up for it: it’s a match made in one-night-stand heaven.”

I’m a little grossed out by Stefan’s less than delightful turn of phrase. “As I’ve said before, we’re trying to broker a deal that will benefit all of us—” I prod him on the arm “—and that’s all there is to it.”

“Well, if he does try anything, you just let me know and I’ll sort him out, okay?”

“You’ll
‘sort him out’
?” I laugh. “What are you, a gangster all of a sudden? Are you going to have him ‘whacked’ or something if he comes near me?” I joke, trying to put him off the scent.

Not that there is a scent, I remind myself: we’ve established the ground rules now, and we can all get on with the business at hand.

“He’s been a gentleman,” I add. Well, that is, if you count kissing me like his life depended on it followed by a late night proposition as being a gentleman.

“And here he is. The man himself: Hugh Hefner,” Stefan says frostily, looking towards the door, his arms crossed as he purses his lips.

I half expect to see an elderly man in his dressing gown shuffling towards us as I turn. Logan walks into the conference room and my heart does a flip. He’s accompanied by another man, almost as handsome as he. 

The two men walk towards Stefan and me, both of them smiling.

I am in control.

“Logan,” I say in a professional tone, taking the upper hand. “How nice to see you again.”

“You too, Brooke,” he replies as he shakes my hand, seemingly taking my cue.

My Girly Bits clench. I may have successfully delivered my ‘let’s-keep-our-relationship-on-a-professional-footing’ speech to him last night, but my feelings for him haven’t magically vanished just by saying the words.

More’s the pity. 

“This is Brad Stephenson. Brad, this is Brooke Mortimer, chief executive of
Live It
.”

“Great to meet you in the flesh, Brooke,” Brad enthuses as he pumps my hand with vigour.

“Great to meet you too, Brad,” I reply, resisting the urge to pull my hand away from his extremely firm grasp.

With his wide grin, enthusiastic personality, and impossibly square jaw he bears more than a passing resemblance to the game show host from Sesame Street. Now what was his name? Guy Smiley, that’s right. I half expect him to burst into song about the wonders of the alphabet at any moment.

I have to exercise considerable self-control not to burst out laughing at the thought.

“This is Stefan Drake,
Live It
’s head of sales and marketing,” I add, thankful when Brad releases my hand in order to shake Stefan’s.

“Stefan, hello. Great to meet you, too.” Brad shakes Stefan’s hand equally eagerly. “I’m so excited about this,” he exclaims to no one in particular, looking like he might pop.

Oh, yes, he’s definitely from the Street.

Stefan beams at him. “We are too. We’re happy to have you here. Aren’t we, Brooke? Really happy.” He’s still holding onto Brad’s hand, smiling at him like a love-struck fool.

Subtlety thy name is not Stefan Drake.

“Thanks. I’ll a—” Brad begins, clearly trying to pull his hand away from Stefan’s grasp.

“Oh,” Stefan replies. “Am I still shaking your hand?” he asks, still not releasing it.

“Ah, yeah,” Brad replies, pulling it from him.

Realising an intervention is required, I place my hand gently on Stefan’s arm, diverting his attention from Brad, who looks like he’s beginning to sweat.

“Stefan,” I say out of the corner of my mouth.

“Oh!” Stefan reluctantly pulls his hand away. “Silly me. What must you think of me, Brad?” He chortles, blushing every shade of red in the colour wheel as he gazes at him.

I guess Stefan must have a thing for puppets.

Observing the awkward exchange, Logan raises his eyebrows as he shoots me a half smile and I close my eyes in embarrassment. Not only did I throw myself at him following our bungy jump yesterday, now Stefan’s doing the same sort of thing with Guy Smiley. He must think we’re a bunch of idiots with sex on the brain.

He might be right.

Turning to Logan, Stefan says coldly, ‘Hello, Logan,” adding an unconvincing, “It’s nice to see you again.”

Taking a mental note to deal with Stefan’s all too obvious preferences later, I invite Logan and Brad to join us as we run through the specifics of the upcoming seminar.

“—and we wrap it all up on Sunday night at about nine,” I say, having gone through a detailed breakdown of each session, its goals, and expected outcomes.

I’m impressed with the way I’ve managed to stay calm and professional while sitting opposite Logan. He looks good enough to eat in his suit jacket and open neck pale blue shirt, showing off his tanned skin to perfection. Maybe delivering my ‘back off, buddy’ speech to him last night has done the trick?

I feel a small twinge at the thought.

“Just stick with me, Brad. I’m happy to be your shadow for the weekend,” Stefan purrs, sitting so close to Brad he’s almost in his lap.

“Sure. Thanks,” Brad replies uncertainly, his ever-present smile drooping around the edges.

I spy Jocelyn entering the room with Michael Cray-Smith, the seminar leader who’s worked at every
Live It
seminar since Jonathan and I set the business up years ago. He’s enthusiastic and inspirational with a proven track record: the key qualities we look for in our leaders.

Wanting to divert everyone’s attention away from Stefan’s increasingly lurid behaviour, I say, “Look, there’s our seminar leader for this weekend, Michael.” I stand up and motion for him to join us, which thankfully he does after a few quick words with Jocelyn.

“Hi Brooke! Ready for another amazing event?” he asks as he hugs me. “Hi there. I’m Michael.” He turns to the group of men, all of whom are now standing.

There are handshakes all around and I suggest Logan and Brad spend some time with Michael while I get on with the seminar work at hand.

I nearly have to pull Stefan away. He reluctantly leaves the men, throwing in another icy look at Logan for good measure, much to my continued embarrassment.

“Settle it down a bit, will you?” I stage whisper once we’re out of earshot.

I’m painstakingly aware I’ve behaved a little like a love-sick teenager over Logan in the very recent past, but that doesn’t mean he should come on to Brad so very blatantly.

And, yes, I do see the irony.

“What?” Stefan replies, grinning, as though butter wouldn’t melt. Brad’s an all-American looking guy: healthy, tanned, with white pearly teeth. Totally Stefan’s type. His last boyfriend bore more than a passing resemblance to Chris Hemsworth in his role as Thor—without the big hammer and Norse costume, that is.

“You know exactly what.” I shoot him my best ‘don’t-play-dumb-with-me’ look. “Let’s keep this professional. Okay?”

“Sure, okay.” He looks like a child who’s had his favourite toy taken away. “You have to admit though,” he adds, gazing over at Brad, who appears to be in full flight about something with Michael and Logan, “he’s dreamy.”

I watch Brad wave his arms around animatedly, imagining what he’s saying.
“This just in. Ernie has found his missing rubber duckie!”
  I chortle to myself: definitely Guy Smiley. Whatever floats your boat, Stefan.

I clear my throat.

“And you’re a fine one to talk,” he accuses.

I shake my head. “This is too important for us to let lust for some guy who’s only in the country for five minutes mess things up. And yes, I know: that goes for me too.”

Stefan crosses his arms, glaring good-humouredly at me. “Good.”

“And you have nothing to fear on that front,” I add, sounding a whole lot more confident than I feel.

I simply need to stick to my guns. Either that or hope Logan is abducted by aliens who take him back to their planet, never to return to Earth.

We walk into the conference room and begin the process of setting it up in preparation for the seminar. We’re scheduled to have just short of eighty people in this room tonight, which is both thrilling and daunting in equal parts.

“How’s it going with brokering the deal, Brooke? Made any headway?” Stefan asks as we line up rows of seats.

I glance around the room, satisfied no one else is within earshot. “Logan seems positive about us, which is great. I’m not sure who the decision maker is here, so allowing Guy to see just how great we are is equally important this weekend.”

“Guy?” Stefan questions, looking puzzled. “Who’s Guy?”

“Oops, I mean Brad. Hey, don’t you think he looks like Guy Smiley? You know, from Sesame Street?”

“No.” Stefan looks indignant.

“Hmm, I do.”

“Brooke, Guy Smiley’s a puppet.” He gets a misty look in his eyes. “Brad Stephenson is a man, a flesh and blood man.”

“Settle down there, tiger. Do these chairs look straight to you?”

He squints his eyes, looking down the row from one end. “Looks good to me. I’ll get another stack.”

“It needs to be perfect, Stefan. A lot’s riding on this weekend.”

* * *

Several hours later the rooms are all set up, every last detail has been attended to, and a full audience sits facing me as I prepare to deliver my welcoming speech before handing the seminar leadership over to Michael Cray-Smith. There’s an almost tangible feeling of expectation in the room. It’s my job to set the scene for what will hopefully prove to be a life-changing experience for each and every one of our seminar attendees.

I love this part of my job, and it’s where I think I shine. I love being able to get an audience excited about what they are about to learn and how we can help them change their lives. I’m so proud of what
Live It
can do—and has done—for our attendees, and that pride swells in me as I speak tonight.

Music is pumped out through the PA, setting the scene for my arrival. I walk up onto the stage, smiling at the audience as they cheer and clap. What a rush! This is what rock stars get addicted to, and I know why: it’s nothing short of amazing.

As I talk, I’m aware of everyone’s eyes on me, especially Logan’s. He’s sitting in the front row, listening intently to what I have to say. Every now and then he catches my eye and flashes me an encouraging grin, and I feel a small but perceptible surge of exhilaration.

I introduce Michael, after sharing some of the incredible work he’s been involved in in his career, and exit the stage to a flurry of applause.