Bold (3 page)

“I could pretend I didn’t know?”

“Seriously?” Ashlin shook her head and Chantal sighed.

“I’ll tell him.”

“Good girl.” Ashlin tugged her long hair back into a ponytail and twisted it into a loose topknot. “What’s the IT guy like?”

“Why? You have a thing for geeks?”

To her surprise, Ashlin blushed. “I have a thing for the latest whiz-bang computer gear and was thinking of picking his brains.”

“Be my guest, though he’ll be working for the next hour in my office and he’s a bit of a grump.”

“Thanks for the warning.” Ashlin stood in a smooth movement that reminded Chantal of an elegant swan unfolding its wings. “Now go call your guy.”

“Thanks, I will.”

As Chantal tapped Zane’s name in her contacts list, she knew this news couldn’t be delivered over the phone.

She needed to see him. Pronto.

Zane entered Burlesque Bombshells for the second time in twenty-four hours and now, like then, his chest tightened. Not because of the subtle sensuality of the venue, but because of the gorgeous blonde striding his way, wearing a tight purple suit that hugged her curves, and towering black stilettos that evoked a wistful erotic image of her wearing those fuck-me shoes and nothing else.

“Glad you could make it,” she said, holding out her hand, a successful businesswoman at the top of her game by all appearances. It didn’t hide the nervousness lurking in the depths of her eyes.

For some reason, it made him feel better, that this confident woman could flounder a little around him. For that’s exactly how he’d been feeling since he met her. A little out of his depth, when he was usually at ease with women.

“You said it was important.” He shook her hand, but bent to kiss her cheek. A quick peck, designed to unnerve her. Instead, as her exotic fragrance infused his senses, he was the one caught off-guard. She smelt like cinnamon…cloves…or some other spices he didn’t know, a powerful combination designed to make a guy lose his head. It was working.

“It is.” She slid her hand out of his and motioned to the nearest seat. “Do you want a coffee?”

“I’m fine, thanks.” He pulled out her chair, waited for her to sit before taking a seat next to her, appreciating the way her knee-length skirt slid up her thighs as she crossed her legs. “If this is your way of saying you can’t wait to take me on a tour of Vegas, I’m all yours.”

She smiled but it didn’t erase the tightness pinching her luscious plum-slicked lips. “You might change your mind about wanting my tour guide services when you hear me out.”

Intrigued, he sat back. “Nothing you could tell me would prevent me from wanting to spend more time with you.”

A faint pink stained her cheeks. Another surprise, as he’d thought self-confident women like Chantal didn’t blush at anything.

“Before I tell you, let me preface by saying this is a giant coincidence and I didn’t know what was going on ‘til this morning when I entered my office and saw him and—”

“Whoa, slow down, you’ll have a coronary.” He may not know Chantal well but the way she squirmed in her seat, her fingers fidgeting with the tablecloth, while her gaze darted away from his constantly, alerted him to the fact something had her rattled. “You said him? Is some guy hassling you?”

She shook her head, the long tendrils that had escaped her up-do brushing her cheeks, making him want to reach out and wind them around his finger. “I didn’t know whether to tell you this or not, but I think you deserve to know.”

“It can’t be mine,” he deadpanned and at last he glimpsed a glimmer of a smile. “We haven’t got to the good stuff yet for you to get pregnant.”

She slugged him on the arm and he was relieved to see some of the tension ebb out of her shoulders. “You still want to meet your half-brothers?”

Surprised by her change of tack, he nodded. Wishing anew he hadn’t blurted all that crap last night.

She gnawed on her bottom lip, before meeting his gaze with a hint of wariness in hers. “Wyatt is my new IT guy. Was in my office this morning when I arrived. I noticed a resemblance to you, then he told me his surname.” She shrugged, searching his face while he digested the fact his half-brother was in the building as they spoke.

“I didn’t want you to think I’m interfering or anything, but I could see last night how much it means to you to meet your brothers so thought I’d let you know…” she trailed off almost on a whisper, her fingers resuming their nervous plucking, this time her skirt hem.

He reached across and stilled them by placing his hands over hers. “Thanks for telling me, I appreciate it.”

Her shoulders straightened and he realized that’s what her nerves had been about: she’d been genuinely testy about his reaction to the news she was working alongside his brother.

His brother
.

Interesting that he’d already dropped the ‘half’ status. Meant one of two things: he was a sentimental sap or an absolute idiot for wanting to tread on emotional landmines.

“Do you want to meet him now?” She cleared her throat. “I could take you to him.”

Hell yeah, Zane wanted to meet Wyatt. He’d done extensive Internet searches on both his American siblings and was intrigued to learn that Wyatt had more in common with Steele, his conservative CEO brother, while Zane and Kurt were the jocks.

From the info he’d garnered, Wyatt was an IT genius but a bit of a recluse. Single. Lived outside of New Orleans but travelled extensively, contracting out his services to companies and corporations.

Zane had envisaged meeting Wyatt some time over the next few weeks, after he’d had time to settle in, meet his dad first, maybe get Christopher to pave the way.

Now, Chantal’s revelation had blown that plan to smithereens. He had the opportunity to meet Wyatt sooner rather than later. He’d do it, but what if Wyatt didn’t want to meet him?

Showing up out of the blue would be bad enough but lobbing at the guy’s workplace?

“I wonder if he knows about me?”

Chantal slipped her hands out from under his and rested them on his shoulders, bringing her tantalizingly close. “This is none of my business, but I could find out if you like, help smooth things out for you?”

Tempting as her offer sounded, Zane knew he had to do this his way.

“Thanks, but I need to do this now.” Before he turned chickenshit and bolted. For a guy who’d taken no prisoners on the football field, he’d sure turned into a weak prick.

“Okay, come with me.” She stood and held out her hand.

When he took it, he felt a strange sense of calm, like she anchored him somehow.

Crazy, considering he’d only known her a few days, but if he’d felt a connection with the beautiful blonde last night, holding her hand now only cemented it.

They didn’t speak on the way to her office and he respected her all the more for sensing his need for silence. He needed to think, to formulate an opening, to run through possible scenarios in his head about how this may go.

“Here we are.” She stopped outside the last door at the end of a long corridor. “Go straight in.”

She squeezed his hand, released it. “There’s a small conference room next to the door we just came through. I’ll be waiting in there if you need me later.”

Zane doubted he’d feel like talking after his confrontation with Wyatt but he appreciated the offer nonetheless.

“Thanks for this.” He reached up, brushed his thumb down her cheek, across her bottom lip, savoring her sharp intake of breath.

He planned on affecting her breathing a lot more, when the two of them were naked and sweaty and panting for each other.

“Good luck.” She stared at his mouth for what seemed like an eternity, his unease at meeting his brother swamped by another more primitive emotion. Blinding lust.

Chantal wanted him. He wanted her. But just as he was about to kiss her senseless, she turned and stalked away, those damn sexy heels making sharp clacking sounds against the parquetry floor.

Leaving him no option but to get this over with.

He knocked, waited five long seconds, before entering the office.

Wyatt was hunched over a keyboard, his gaze glued to a computer screen. With his face in shadows, all Zane could see was a mop of curly dark hair.

He should feel something. He wanted to feel something. But as he stared at his half-brother, all he could think was ‘what the fuck am I doing here?’

Wyatt continued to ignore him, didn’t look up even when Zane cleared his throat.

“If you’re looking for the boss lady, she’s not here,” Wyatt said, his fingers tapping the keys like a maniac.

“Actually, I was looking for you.” Zane closed the door and waited, hands in pockets, feeling more like a needy dufus with every passing second.

Wyatt still didn’t look up from the screen. “I’m booked solid. Reconfiguring the system here will take two weeks, then I’ve got eight hotels in Vegas to update. But I can give you the name of another consultant—”

“I don’t need your IT services,” Zane said, crossing the office until he towered over Wyatt’s workspace. “I need to talk to you about a personal matter.”

Wyatt finally tore his gaze from the PC screen and his jaw dropped. “Fuck.”

Zane knew the feeling. Because Wyatt looked like a darker version of Steele. They had the same jaw, the same mouth, even the same way of narrowing their eyes that made him feel inferior.

“You look like my brother Kurt,” Wyatt said, standing.

Shit, even his lean, wiry build was like Steele.

“I’m Zane.” He held out his hand and thankfully, Wyatt shook it without hesitation.

“I figured.” Wyatt stepped around the desk, staring at him like he’d seen a Trojan virus come to life.

Guess that solved the mystery of whether his American siblings knew about them. Closely followed by a swift resentment that Wyatt and Kurt hadn’t cared enough to facilitate a meeting.

“So you know about Steele and me?”

He sounded bitter and accusatory, and Wyatt held up his hands.

“Whoa, back off, dude. Christopher only called yesterday and told me the news.” His eyes narrowed again, shrewdly assessing. “He knows you’re here in the States, right?”

Zane nodded.

“Fucking typical,” Wyatt spat out, shaking his head. “He knew you’d want to meet us, so was trying to make himself look like the good guy.” He snorted. “Like that could ever happen.”

Apart from the angry vibe Wyatt radiated, the fact he’d called their father by his first name indicated bad blood. “You’re not close?”

Wyatt’s jaw clenched, anger darkening his eyes to ebony. “Christopher is a selfish prick who only has time for people like him.” Wyatt pointed at him. “He said you’re a football star back in Australia, which means he’ll love you.”

So much for happy families. Looked like he’d already trodden on Wyatt’s toes without trying.

“Though Kurt’s going to hate your guts. He loathes competition.” A sardonic grin twisted Wyatt’s mouth. “Which means I might like you after all.”

Zane couldn’t believe it. Even the way Wyatt spoke reminded him of Steele: direct, almost emotionless, blunt to the point of socially awkward.

Zane wanted to ask a thousand questions: what was their father like? What was Wyatt’s childhood like? What was Kurt like?

But he remained silent, trying to assimilate the feelings ricocheting through him. He’d just met another brother for the first time. He felt…shell-shocked. Relieved. Hopeful.

Yet he had to ask the one question that persistently bugged him.

“When you learned the truth yesterday, were you interested in meeting your half-brothers?”

Sadness down-turned Wyatt’s mouth and he had his answer before he spoke. “Yeah. But I’m an introvert. A social jackass.” He ruffled the curls at the nape of his neck. “And I had no fucking clue how to approach you and Steele.”

“The feeling was mutual.” Buoyed by Wyatt’s honesty, Zane held out his hand again. “I’d like to be mates.”

“That’s Aussie speak for friends, right?” Wyatt finally cracked a smile as they shook hands and Zane exhaled a relieved breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

“Yeah. Want to grab a beer after you finish here for the day?”

Wyatt nodded. “Sounds good. Though I’ll be working late.”

“Not a problem. I’ve got a Skype call tonight.” A call that had him on edge, more nervous than he’d ever been before any Grand Final. “We can meet in the hotel bar around nine? I’m staying at the MGM.”

“Okay.”

Though by Wyatt’s constant darting glances, Zane wasn’t sure if Wyatt was okay. He looked shell-shocked, exactly how he’d felt when he’d first discovered the truth.

Processing his rioting emotions, Zane headed for the door.

“Zane?”

“Yeah?” He paused in the doorway and glanced over his shoulder.

“It’s really good to meet you.”

“You too.” Zane knew his goofball grin must look idiotic but when Wyatt returned it, he felt nothing but relief.

He’d done the right thing by following through on an impromptu first meeting with his brother.

And he had Chantal to thank for it.

Chantal needed to work. To keep busy. To focus on anything other than the confrontation happening in her office.

She knew what Zane was going through, meeting Wyatt for the first time. She’d been there, done that with her dad. She’d never forget meeting him for first time: the nerves, the anticipation, the hope. She’d vomited beforehand, her stomach revolting at the possibility he may not like her or not want more than a passing acquaintance. Thankfully, her dad had been amazing and she hoped Zane and Wyatt hit it off half as well.

To distract herself from constantly checking the time and wondering how the guys were getting along, she’d spent the last ten minutes researching a sponsorship deal for Burlesque Bombshells to financially support a burgeoning Australian football competition in Nevada.

It would put Bombshells front and center, her business’s name on jerseys and shorts, in an arena that would draw the attention of men and women alike.