Breaking the Bro Code (4 page)

‘You want me to be in the audience?’ Her brows arched and she tilted her head. ‘Why?’

‘Because I know I’ll need it.’

He shifted in his seat. Col was about as far out of his comfort zone as he could possibly be. Talking about his weaknesses was generally a no-go area; normally when he hired great people to take care of the different aspects of his business it didn’t involve him talking about any personal failings. His palms itched, his leg bounced an uneven beat. He was ready to run, ready to call the conference organisers and tell them that he couldn’t do the speech. It would be easier.

No, you’re not a quitter. You’re
not
a failure.

‘It’s non-negotiable,’ he said, squaring his shoulders and slipping into work mode. ‘You have to be there on the day, otherwise there’s no point to this deal.’

She contemplated his demands, plucking at a strand of her golden hair and twirling it around her finger. Her tongue flickered out to the corner of her mouth. She was close to agreeing; he could feel it.

‘Any other deal breakers I should be aware of?’

‘No.’

Their breakfast arrived and Col tucked into his scrambled eggs with gusto. Perhaps if he kept his senses busy with a delicious breakfast, he could stop thinking about the past...stop remembering.

‘What about you?’ He speared a piece of bacon. ‘Don’t you want to know how much I’m going to pay you?’

‘Your generosity has never been in question, Col.’ Her voice softened, the defensiveness seeping out of her posture. ‘I know you’re a fair man.’

He couldn’t handle her when she went all soft on him. That made her
far
too tempting. ‘That’s poor business practice, you know. Perhaps you need to be a little less trusting when it comes to money—might be better for the studio.’ He gestured towards her with his fork.

She bristled. ‘It’s different when I’m dealing with you. I don’t trust anyone else, I’m not stupid.’

She trusted him? Even after he’d left her, she still trusted him? That was far too confusing a thought to process, so he shook his head and forced himself to stick to business.

‘I know you’re not stupid, Elise, but it worries me that someone will take advantage of you.’

‘How about some of my requirements?’ she said, changing the subject.

‘Shoot.’

‘I don’t want you to thank me.’ Her chin jutted forward, a serious look clouding her usual expression of elfin mischief.

He raised a brow. ‘What do you mean by that?’

‘You’re paying me. I don’t owe you anything after it’s over, and you don’t owe me. We’re square, even,
finito.
’

The fact that she was already thinking about the end of their deal cut him deeper than he wanted it to. ‘Fine. What else?’

‘If you want my help then I don’t expect any attitude if I push you to do things that aren’t comfortable. I don’t accept it from my ballet students, so I won’t accept it from you.’

He nodded. It seemed fair; he wouldn’t accept anything less of himself.

‘Last thing, we keep our focus.’ She dragged her lower lip between her teeth, pausing as if figuring out the correct words to use. ‘I don’t want to talk about the past, I don’t want to ask any questions and I don’t want you to give me any answers.’

His chest ached as if a great, big gaping chasm had split it in two. She wanted to forget that she’d practically saved his life, that she was an integral part of who he was...what he’d become.
Suck it up, you left
her.
Deal with it.

‘Okay?’ She stretched the word out, her grey eyes fixed on him.

‘Okay.’

She nodded, satisfied. ‘Then I’ll help you.’

Relief flooded through him. ‘I’ll have my legal adviser draft up a contract with the terms of our agreement and outline how much I’m willing to pay for your services.’

‘Fine.’ She waved her hand to dismiss him.

Clearly ‘keeping focus’ didn’t include talking financials. He rubbed a hand along his jaw, studying her until she caught his steady gaze.

‘I still find all this strange, you know. I mean, haven’t you done interviews and press conferences before?’

He should have. He’d sold his first computer application at twenty-two, subsequently creating and then selling a start-up company to a technology giant just three years later. He’d been the youngest person to make a million dollars off a company that was less than a year old—though the record had now been broken by a pair of sixteen-year-olds from California.

There had been a lot of media interest at the time of the sale, but he’d staunchly refused interviews and it had become something of a distinguishing feature as his career had grown. One paper had gone so far as to label him ‘the CEO hermit’. In many ways, he knew it was bad for his career to be so media-shy...and this conference was his opportunity to prove to himself that he could conquer his fears. That he was taking steps towards greater success. That he’d moved on from being the charity case he was in school.

‘I tend to focus on what’s important, and that’s building innovative technology.’ He shoved another forkful of eggs into his mouth. ‘Not hamming it up for the press. This conference, however, is a great opportunity for my company...so I’m going to do it.’

A cold drip of fear trickled down his spine. Thinking about hundreds of eyes being locked onto him while he stood on stage, the lone occupant of a bright spotlight, was enough to make his chest compress in on itself. His breath became shallow, the muscles in his neck stiffening. Suddenly his breakfast didn’t seem so appealing.

‘I guess you always were a bit of an introvert growing up,’ she conceded, bobbing her head. ‘You were always fiddling with your computers, playing video games. I guess all your passions were indoor activities.’

He didn’t bother to argue; the reason he’d started tinkering with computers in the first place was because he needed something to do to pass the time while his bruises were at their most prominent. Wrinkling his nose, he pushed his plate away from him. He needed to change the topic. Fast.

‘You even helped me indulge some of those indoor activities.’ He made no effort to hide the teasing in his voice.

A flicker of emotion passed over her face, gone as quickly as it appeared. She pushed her breakfast around her plate with her fork; she’d barely touched it. ‘Must be a different life now, having to deal with so many people instead of being holed up on your own.’

‘It is,’ he said. ‘I can’t just think about myself any more. I have a team to lead. They rely on the success of the company, and I have a very big part to play.’

‘I bet they look up to you.’ A soft smile pulled her lips up and for a moment she was lost in her own thoughts.

‘They do.’

Yes, the mask he wore for his team was a good one—solid, practised, comforting. He’d started young, putting on a brave face for the teachers, the doctors, the Johnsons. Being a leader was a learned behaviour, but to the untrained eye it appeared as natural to him as putting his clothes on in the morning. Luckily for him, no one knew what was going on inside...no one except Elise.

FOUR

‘You agreed to
do what I said.’ Elise planted her hands on her hips and tried to stifle the curve of a wicked smile on her lips.

Two flint-like blue eyes stared back at her with such an intensity she could have sworn they were about to fire lightning bolts at her. Col’s breath came rapidly, his chest rising and falling within the confines of his grey T-shirt. Muscles bulged as he crossed his arms tight across his chest.

She stood her ground, staunchly refusing to look at how incredible his body was. It was those biceps; they were a damn distraction!

‘This is ridiculous and pointless and...
cruel
.’ He looked at the group of little girls who were bouncing up and down on the spot, amusing themselves by babbling to one another and trying to point their ballet-slippered feet.

‘If you can’t stand to be in front of a group of four-year-olds, who don’t understand the concept of judgement, then how can you get up in front of a room full of your peers or your competitors?’

‘This is absolute bull—’

Elise silenced him with a look.

‘Bull...poop.’ He glared at her. ‘And you
know
it.’

Okay, so perhaps sticking Col at the front of her class full of four-year-old ballet students had the benefit of personal amusement. But she had warned him: if he wanted her help then she was in charge. End of story.

‘If you no longer require my services feel free to leave.’ She held her hand out to the door, calling his bluff.

‘What about the mothers?’ He gestured to the viewing window where several of the students’ mothers milled around, watching the class and talking amongst themselves. ‘Would they really want a man in here with their kids?’

She smiled sweetly, relishing having the upper hand for once. ‘Oh, I got their permission. They’re totally fine with it.’

Defeated, he gritted his teeth and squared his shoulders, facing the class.
Good boy.

‘Okay, class,’ she began in her best teacher voice. ‘Today we have a special guest joining us. This is my friend, Col, and I want you to make him feel very welcome. He’s going to be helping me run the lesson today.’

One of her students jabbed a chubby finger in Col’s direction, her cherubic face pulled into a suspicious scowl. ‘You don’t
look
like a ballet teacher. Where are your ballet shoes?’

Elise’s eyes dropped to the floor. Col’s bare feet stuck out from the frayed hems of his worn jeans. He rocked up onto the balls of his feet so that his heels left the floor. Her eyes travelled back up, skimming over the denim that hugged his muscular thighs like a second skin. His T-shirt was fitted, tight enough to hint at the perfection beneath but not tight enough to look self-serving.

Col shrugged. ‘I’m starting a trend.’

The little girl peered at him and then seemed to accept his answer, turning her face to Elise as if to say:
okay, you can start now.

‘We’re going to start with our
tendus
.’ Elise clapped her hands together to get the attention of her class, most of whom were more interested in twirling on the spot than completing the set exercises. ‘Ready, one, two...’

She started the music and stepped her students through the exercise, stifling a laugh as Col bumbled along beside her. He tried to keep in time with the music, but the sad fact was he had about as much musicality as a stuffed llama.

Okay, so maybe this
was
cruel and unusual...but didn’t she deserve to have a little fun? Her life was sorely lacking in the good F-word of late...actually, it had been sorely lacking in the other kind of F-word as well, and Col’s sudden arrival had spun her out. Between sifting through the confusing emotions associated with his return, she had a failing business to save and a mother with mental-health demands that would test even the most Zen of people.

‘Miss Johnson, you’re messing up the steps!’

She shook her head, stopping the music so they could start again. A heavy hand came down on her shoulder; the flint in Col’s eyes had been replaced by something else...something that made her insides feel gooey.

‘Sorry girls...and boy.’ Her cheeks burned and she moved out from under Col’s touch. ‘Even teachers mess up the steps sometimes.’

‘Why don’t we try it again?’ The little girl used the phrase she often said when her line of little angels fell into distraction.

‘Great idea, Ginny.’

Elise fumbled with the remote, suddenly off balance and feeling a little dizzy. Maybe it was something she’d had at lunch...had she even
eaten
lunch? Or breakfast, for that matter?

‘Whoa there.’ Col stepped in close and held her as the ground swam beneath her feet. ‘Elise?’

His arms held her tight, the space between them closed far too quickly for her to think, to react. His cinnamon and wood scent engulfed her, making her sway in his arms. Oh, no, this could
not
be happening.

‘Miss Johnson! Miss Johnson!’ The students called her name as Elise’s eyelids fluttered closed.

‘I’m okay.’ She pressed a palm to her head and tried to steady herself, nudging herself away from Col’s grip with her elbow.

‘You’re white as a sheet.’

‘I’m
fine.
’ She took a step and the room tilted around her sharply, as though someone had tipped the ballet studio over like a child’s playing block.

‘Yeah, I’ll believe that when you can stand on your own.’ Col pulled her around his neck. ‘Come on, let’s find you a seat.’

They walked over to the front of the studio where her MP3 player and stereo system were kept. She settled into the small plastic chair and dropped her head into her hands. If only the room would stop spinning...

‘Are you okay?’

He slowly peeled her hands away from her face, his touch sending shock waves through her system. Each time he touched her it was as if her body were reignited with memories, the images flickering, sounds, gasps, the taste of his skin under her lips.
No!

‘I’m just a little dizzy.’

‘When was the last time you ate?’ His dark brows crinkled.

‘Afternoon tea...’ She wasn’t sure if she should read anything into the fact that he remembered her tendency to skip meals when she was stressed. She looked up. ‘Yesterday.’

‘Dammit, Elise.’ He growled the words and shook his head. ‘You
have
to take care of yourself.’

At that moment Jasmine came jogging in, a long floating skirt swirling around her legs as she moved. ‘Girls, I want you all to practise your
tendus
for me. The best
tendu
will get a prize after class.’

The group of tiny ballerinas attempted a few steps on their own before descending into giggling chaos.

‘What’s going on?’ Jasmine’s brows pulled together. ‘Do you need me to take over the class?’

Elise nodded mutely.

‘Someone has decided that calorific intake is an optional part of her day.’ Col folded his arms across his chest.

‘Ellie!’ Jasmine scowled.

‘Oh, don’t you give me any crap.’ Elise held up her hand in warning. ‘What were you like when you were fighting with lover boy a few months back?’

‘Leave the class with me,’ Jasmine said, looking behind her and ordering the students back into position. Her wary gaze hovered on Col momentarily, while she figured out whether or not to trust him. ‘Can you take her to get some food? And make sure she eats it—don’t leave it with her. Watch
every
mouthful.’

‘You have my word.’

Jasmine rounded up the students and set about conducting the class in her long skirt and bare feet. Taking a deep breath, Elise got up from the chair but her arms wobbled and Col had to help her stand. She closed her eyes, forcing away the swishing sensation in her head.

‘When did you get so skinny?’ he said, his large hand around her upper arm as she steadied herself. ‘I feel like I’m holding a chicken bone.’

‘Don’t start.’

She was a nervous under-eater. Whereas some people reached for chips and chocolate when they were upset, Elise felt ill at the sight of any and all food. It wasn’t as if she habitually starved herself; she just couldn’t stomach anything in times of stress. Was it her fault that those times were frequent these days?

‘Hey.’ Col’s hand came to her cheek, brushing back a strand of her hair behind her ear. ‘I’m worried about you, Ellie-girl.’

‘You’re a little too late for that.’ The lack of food was making her emotional; she could feel the pain simmering beneath the surface, churning her stomach and making her heart thump. Luckily for her she was unable to cry, and that meant she could keep herself in check.

She shrugged herself out of Col’s grip and walked through the studio, behind the class, and avoided Jasmine’s gaze as she left. She waved a quick goodbye to the mothers without stopping; the last thing she needed was anyone asking questions.

‘This is karma, you know.’ Col followed her outside.

The last rays of sunshine threw golden light around the ballet studio car park as the glowing giant orb dipped in the distance. How was it that she was suddenly noticing the weather, the inherent beauty of summer, when normally she rushed to her car without giving the view a second glance?

She shook off the strange thoughts. ‘Karma?’

‘Yeah, for your silly lesson tonight.’

A smile tugged on the corner of her lips. She’d rather have him joking with her than pitying her. Joking was squarely in the realms of her comfort zone along with its good friends denial and repression.

‘Col, you’re paying me for my expertise. Why don’t you let me handle the lesson planning?’

‘If you try a stunt like that again I’ll make you pay for it.’

She stopped at her car and he stood close to her. Awareness ran through her veins at full speed; she could hear nothing but the sound of his breath coming a little too quickly, the scrape of his palm across his stubble-covered jaw. She could swear she heard his heartbeat, or perhaps it was the insistent thumping of her own. Like many times before she failed to see where she ended and he began.

* * *

Elise turned to him with a slow movement carefully designed not to upset her delicate balance. Her cheeks were stained rose-pink, her grey eyes hooded by dark lashes. The urge to kiss her roared in him at full force, his weakness for her as unsettlingly brilliant now as it had been all those years ago. He’d never met another girl like her, not a one that could compare to the layers of maddening complexity and uniqueness that drew him to her like a magnet. She was fiercely independent and yet he knew that beneath the sarcasm and the joking and the flippancy there was a vulnerability so precious and beautiful he would have given everything to have a taste.

He
had
given everything for a taste once; he’d broken a promise to his best friend and paid for it with everything he had. But something now told him that he’d do it all over again. He’d give up all he had for her over and over.
Snap out of it—that ship has sailed. You lost it all last time and leaving her was the right thing to do.

‘And how exactly will you make me pay?’ She tipped her nose up at him, all bravado and temptation.

He leant down so that his lips were near her ear. ‘You don’t want to find out.’

He felt the shiver that ran through her even though there was still a sliver of space between them. He noticed the flare of her pupils, the quick intake of breath, and the way her tongue darted out the side of her mouth. That tongue was going to bring him undone.

‘I think you’re all talk and no action, Colby Hillam.’

‘Elise...’ he growled in warning.

‘All. Talk.’ She sounded the words out slowly, her lips wrapping around the taunt in a way that sent fire through his blood. ‘No. Action.’

Before his sensibilities had the chance to act, he grabbed her by the shoulders and pressed her up against the car with a gentle thud. His face hovered inches from hers, so close that he could see the faded freckles that ran across her nose and the strange little ring of gold that stopped her eyes from being
just
grey.

Her lips parted in response, though whether it was from shock or invitation he didn’t know. The front of his trousers was so tight that he yearned to press against her, to relieve the pressure, to drown himself in pleasure. Her lashes touched together and she stayed still as a statue. He could kiss her, he could drop his head and plunder that sweet, delicious mouth of hers so damn easily...

Don’t you lose it, don’t you
dare
.

‘I’m taking you to dinner.’ He stepped back, holding his shoulders square and ignoring the aching dissatisfaction that made his limbs heavy and wooden.

She rolled her eyes. ‘Gee, when you invite me so politely like that, how could I refuse?’

‘Such a smart mouth on such an angelic-looking face.’ He shook his head. ‘And I know for a fact that “polite” doesn’t work with you.’

She opened her mouth to protest when her stomach growled loudly. ‘Fine, but I’m driving.’

After a quick trip they were seated in a small Italian restaurant...emphasis on the
small
. From the outside it had looked like a family restaurant, a safe zone for him to keep his mind on appropriate topics like her performance preparation. Now that they were seated, the warm glow of a candle softened the light, bringing out the gold tones in her hair, and their knees bumped in the intimate space. And Col did not feel very safe at all.

So far during his time in Australia he’d accomplished little. He’d delayed on cleaning out his father’s house because he couldn’t stand the sight of the place; he’d scarcely looked over the speaking notes his communications person had sent him, and used all that wasted time battling thoughts he shouldn’t be having. Thoughts about all he’d given up when he left.

‘Don’t try and pull another stunt like you did tonight,’ Col said, forcing his mind onto how ticked off he was supposed to be.

‘It wasn’t a stunt. I was merely simulating a stage atmosphere.’ She tore a piece of garlic bread in two and chewed on one half. ‘Just because it happened to hold some personal amusement doesn’t make it any less valuable a lesson.’