The Heartbroker (9 page)

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Authors: Kate O'Keeffe

BOOK: The Heartbroker
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Politeness—and perhaps something else—wins over, and I take a sweet from his bag. It’s a sticky toffee, and tastes wonderful. I smile at him as I chew, a little rebellious as I break my diet.

“Good, huh?” He takes another. We’ve wandered further down the street, finding ourselves in a more residential area.

I glance at my watch. “We should probably get back to Queenstown.”

“How about we agree if you check your phone and you don’t have any work-related messages, we’ll stay for lunch, and then head back.”

Expecting to have at least a handful of messages I happily agree. “All right, then.”

I pull my phone out. Angel Brooke is hoping for several messages requiring my immediate attention. Devil Brooke is jumping about on my shoulder, yelling at me to forget about work and instead throw myself at Logan. The things she wants me to do with him right now are making me blush. I’m blocking her out as best I can.

As it turns out, the decision is made for me because, to my surprise, I have no messages.

Logan glances at my phone. “Excellent. Brooke gets the morning off. Are you hungry? I sure am. How about we go to that little place we just passed back there? It looks nice.”

“Sure,” I reply in resignation, part of me thrilled our fun morning is being extended. “But please, can we talk about the contract over lunch?”

“Of course.”

After a short stroll we arrive at the quaint Postmasters Restaurant. It’s a sweet former cottage, complete with white picket fence, and wisteria around the door. We take a table by the open fire, warming ourselves up after our walk in the cool air.

The atmosphere is warm, cosy, and oh-so-romantic. As I look around the room I take a deep sigh. Those matchmaking gods are pulling out all the stops today.  Devil Brooke is delighted.

We order the sharing platter and Logan suggests a bottle of local pinot noir wine, the varietal this area is famous for. Concerned that alcohol will erode my defences, I suggest a sensible cup of coffee instead.

“How about just a glass, then? I mean, it’s not every day you get to dine in Arrowtown with a handsome American.” A smile teases at the edges of his mouth. “Or, at least, I hope it’s not.”

“Sure, why not.” I laugh as Devil Brooke does star jumps in the air.

Our wine and food delivered, I realise with a start we’ve spent hours together already and, other than checking for messages, not once have I thought about work.

“So, you said you had some questions for me, Logan. To do with
Live It
?”

Hi grins. “Actually, I don’t. I just said that to get you to come out with me. My bad.”

My mouth forms an ‘O’ shape as I gape at him in disbelief. “You sneak! So you don’t want to talk about work things at all?”

“Well, do you?” he asks, looking around the restaurant.

I glance around the room. Why does this place have to be so romantic?

A waiter arrives with a bottle of wine and pours out a couple of glasses for us.

“I will say something, however,” he continues. “We like what we’ve seen, Brooke.
Live It
and
You: Now
are a great fit. I see no reason why we can’t table a contract to form a partnership with you.”

A slow grin spreads across his face as I light up with excitement. “Really? Oh, that’s fantastic news. Thank you,” I say with gusto, my heart racing a mile a minute.

My head begins to spin. I can hardly believe it! Everything I’ve been working towards for the past year is about to come to fruition. We’ve wanted to grow the business by expanding into Australia and beyond for so long, and now, with the help of Logan’s company, we’re going to be able to do it. I’m so happy, I could burst.

“I thought you might be pleased.” He sits back in his leather chair, watching me. He raises his glass. “Here’s to our partnership.”

We clink glasses. I take a deep sip, barely believing the news.

“Our lawyers have drawn up a partnership agreement already, which I’ll get to you later today, if that suits?”

“If that suits?” As if it didn’t!

He laughs. “I guess it does, then.”

“Thank you, Logan.” I look into his eyes. “I’m so excited about this. I think it’s going to be amazing.”

“I do too. You have what it takes, Brooke. You run a tight ship, you’ve developed a strong brand, and with your drive I know you’ll go far.”

I flush with pride. “With your company’s help, we’ll go far,” I correct him.

Glowing with happiness, we eat our meal and drink our wine in front of the roaring fire, discussing the details of the agreement. It seems
You: Now
had made up their minds about us before Logan and Brad even set foot in the country, and their presence here merely served to confirm their decision to work with us.

We wander back to the car after Logan has purchased some possum wool gloves for his niece and nephew in Colorado at one of the shops on the main street.

“How old are your sister’s kids?” I ask as I drive us with more than a tinge of regret out of Arrowtown and back towards Queenstown.

“They’re three and five respectively, although you’d think Sammy, my five-year-old niece, was fifteen.” He rolls his eyes.

“Growing up too fast?” I ask, chuckling.

“Yes. She’s just like her mother: bossy.”

“She must be your
older
sister, right?”

He nods. “You have experience with older, bossy siblings?”

“Oh, yes. My brother, Jeremy, is two years old than me, but you’d think he was my dad with the way he tells me how to live my life.”

He chuckles. “That sounds familiar. Any other brothers or sisters?”

“I have a younger step-sister, Grace, and half-brother, Dylan.”

“Ah, a complicated family structure, by the sounds of it.”

I shrug. “Yeah, I guess. But it works.”

“So is it your mom or your dad who remarried, or both?”

I’m not in the habit of telling people I’ve just met my mother is gone, but I’m so at ease with Logan—like we’ve been close for years, rather than just the few days I’ve actually known him—I tell him about my mother’s cancer, how my dad remarried soon after she died, the whole sorry tale.

It feels so natural, and by the time I park the car back at the hotel, we’ve shared our full family histories: the good, the bad, and the somewhere in between.

“I’ve had an amazing day, Brooke. Thank you,” Logan says as we stand next to each other in the lift, heading to our respective floors.

“Me too.” I know how very much I have.

Even if my life depended on it, I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. Not only have I learned all my hopes for my company are set to come true, I’ve had an amazing time with Logan.

And, what’s more, I’ve proved to myself I can be around him without acting on my feelings.

“Oops, Logan, we went past my floor.” I look at the panel of numbers as we stop at the one above. I lean in to press my number.

“Ah, I thought you might like to come with me, Brooke. I can show you the draft contract,” Logan says as he walks out of the lift and turns to face me, holding the door open with his arm.

My breath catches in my throat. It will be just the two of us, alone in his bedroom.
So
not a good idea.

Despite how easy and natural today has been with him, my need for self-protection is screaming in my ear.

Until yesterday, I hadn’t even kissed a man in the longest time, let alone become emotionally entangled with one, the way I’m beginning to become with Logan.

Sure, I may had an amazing day with him today, and I know those dissatisfied Girly Bits of mine would love nothing more than to climb into bed with him right now. On the other hand, my brain is screaming for me to protect myself.

And really, what could this be with Logan other than a short fling? Almost a one-night-stand. He’s only in the country for a matter of days. It can’t
go
anywhere. He’ll fly out, back to his exciting life in sophisticated San Francisco, and I’ll be left, regretting what could have been, nursing my bruised and battered heart.

And that’s before I even consider what it could do to our business deal.

No, it’s dangerous territory.

“I, err, I should go,” I stutter, torn between wanting him and knowing going with him to his room right now is possibly the dumbest thing I could ever do.

The lift lets out a loud beep, causing us both to jump. Logan offers me his hand, and without thinking, I take it in mine, as he leads me out of the lift, the doors closing behind me.

I turn and look at them, hearing the lift whizz away to the next floor. Well, I suppose the decision’s been made, then. And anyway, we’re just going to look at a boring old contract. There’s nothing sexy—or risky—about that. Is there?

“All right. It would be great to see the contract. I’m really excited about you.”
Eeek
!  “Err, it. I’m excited about
it
. The contract, I mean. I’m excited about the contract.”

“Me too,” he replies with a smile. It’s unclear whether he’s referring to the contract or to me.

He pulls his key card out and slots it in the door to his room.

We’re here already?

Once inside, the door closed behind us, Logan turns to face me, his eyes smouldering. My mouth dries and I swallow hard.

“Can I take your jacket?” He doesn’t take his eyes from mine.

“Sure.” I slip it off and hand it to him with trembling hands. His fingers brush against mine as he takes it from me, sending a jolt though my body.

I watch him as he puts both our coats over a chair, then walks back until he’s standing so close to me we’re almost touching. I breathe in his scent, a mixture of his cologne and the fresh, alpine air.

“Brooke,” he says breathlessly, looking once again into my eyes.

He runs his hand from my shoulder down my arm. My heart is smacking hard inside my chest, like a couple of World Wrestling Federation fighters in the ring.

“It’s not every day I meet a woman like you. Hell, I don’t think I’ve
ever
met a woman like you.”

Weren’t we meant to be looking at a dry, boring partnership agreement about now? A nice, safe contract to dull these electric feelings we seem to share?

“The contract?” I almost whisper in a last-ditch attempt to resist him.

He smiles at me. “Sure, I’ll get the contract. But first, can I tell you how I feel?”

I nod, unable to speak as the WWF fighters continue to duke it out in my chest.

Oh, god. Here it comes. And I just know I won’t be able to resist him.

“I respect what you said about wanting to keep our relationship purely professional.”

Yes, this is good.

“I’ve tried to do what you want, Brooke. God knows I’ve tried.” He slides his hand up to my shoulder again, making my skin tingle.

Uh-oh.

“Until last night I knew I was attracted to you, wanted you. But seeing you speak at the seminar, to watch how you captured the audience, to see your passion, your knowledge?” He lets out a heavy breath. “Brooke, you were spectacular.” He shakes his head. “I can’t fight it. I want you so bad. You have to know that. And I think you want me. Am I right?” The hope in his eyes almost brings me to tears.

Umm,
yes
! Is the Pope Catholic?

He reaches up and runs his fingers gently down the side of my face, sending a shiver of desire through me.

I will myself to shake my head, to deny the strength of the feelings I have for him, but instead find myself nodding in assent, my belly tightening with longing for him.

I think I must lick my lips as his eyes dart to my mouth, a sexy smile twitching at the corners of his own. “Sure, us working together complicates this. But that’s all it is. A complication.”

I nod again. My mouth is like a ball of cotton wool, the power of speech deserting me once again.

“Love isn’t logical, Brooke.”

Love
? I swallow hard.

“And anyway, once we’ve signed the agreement, I won’t be working with you any longer.”

He’s got this all figured out.

“But—” I take a deep, steadying breath, ignoring the way my body is humming. I call on what can only be my superhuman strength to break his oh-so-pleasurable hold on me.

I know I could fall for this man—hell, I’m already a little bit in love with him—and I’m scared out of my wits.

“You have to know I want you,” I begin and his smile broadens in response. “But I swore off men over a year ago when my heart was broken.”

He nods, concern etched on his face.

“I know we can’t make one another any promises or anything—” I trail off as I his arms encircling my waist, gently pulling me into him. Concentrating on talking is a step too far for me as his body presses lightly against mine.

“Yes, we’ve only known one another for a short time, but I think I’m falling for you, Brooke,” he mutters into my hair, his voice low and husky, warming my neck with his breath.

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