Breaking the Bro Code (5 page)

‘Don’t give me that. If there’s one thing I know for sure about you, Elise, it’s that you’re aware of each and every little thing you do.’ He took a swig of his red wine and looked at her pointedly. ‘So don’t play innocent with me. I’m not falling for it.’

She nodded and stifled a smile. ‘Can you blame a girl for trying to get a little payback on the guy who did the adult version of a pash and dash?’

‘That was your payback for me
leaving
? I thought it was for all the times I called you Bun Head.’

‘I wore the Bun Head label with pride back in the day.’ A wistful smile passed over her lips.

‘You lived and breathed ballet.’

‘It was all I ever wanted.’ She circled the rim of her wineglass with a fingertip. ‘Do you remember that time that I was late for rehearsal and you picked me up from work? I had to change in the back of the car because my teacher would have locked me out if I came to a lesson without my uniform.’

Did he remember? Who would forget a beautiful girl in the back seat of their car, stripping out of her work clothes and wriggling into a skimpy leotard and tights? He swallowed, the front of his trousers tightening uncomfortably again.

Guilt washed over him like a slow-moving wave. Giving in to temptation with Elise was one of the worst decisions he’d ever made. Now here he was, five years later, and still looking at her as though she were the most delicious, perfect thing in the world. Had he learned nothing?

‘Fair’s fair, Col. Let’s talk about your presentation, no funny business this time.’ She twirled a fork in her spaghetti and popped the neat forkful into her mouth.

‘What, no emasculating humiliation?’ he drawled. ‘And here I was getting used to it.’

‘No, I’ve had my fun.’ She grinned. ‘In all seriousness, a good place to start would be to look at
why
you’re scared of public speaking. This might help to work out what preparation techniques would help most.’

‘I was looking more for a “breathe and count to ten” kind of approach.’ He raked a hand through his hair and bounced his right leg in a rapid beat. ‘The whole Dr Phil thing isn’t for me.’

‘If you want to be able to get up in front of all those people you need to do it. Are we talking a hundred people in the audience? A thousand?’

He felt the panic creep up his spine, the tightness close around his neck like a pair of icy hands. ‘I don’t know.’

He’d been avoiding that part of the brief his assistant put together because he knew the kind of reaction it would incite. He let out a breath; this public speaking thing was his damn Achilles heel. He wanted to thump his fist against the table, but instead he held himself rigid and still.

‘Anyway, that’s not important.’ She waved her hand and toyed with her fork. ‘Do you think it’s the size of the audience? You mentioned you were okay with a boardroom, so perhaps we need to find some guinea pigs for you to practise in front of—’

‘No.’ It came out as a snap though he didn’t mean it that way. It was hard to speak, hard to keep his mind from doing that horrible spinning-top thing it did whenever he thought about the speech.

Elise peered at him, her face serious. ‘If you can’t do a practise run then how do you expect to get up there on the day?’

I don’t know.
It was ridiculous. A man of his success, with an innovative, ground-breaking technology company to his name and...well, that was really all he had. But it was big. Important. As far away as humanly possible from the derelict life he’d had growing up.

What the hell was he doing? He should tell the conference he had very important ‘CEO business’ to attend to back home and then he could leave without humiliating himself. His heart drummed, the echo bouncing around inside his body. But that would mean cutting short his time with Elise. Every fibre of his being resisted the idea of leaving her, though he knew control around her was tenuous at best.

He should leave. She didn’t need someone like him around, who was all kinds of screwed up.

‘Col?’ Elise’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

‘I’m not doing it. End of story.’

‘Stubborn as always, I see.’

The candle in between them flickered as if sensing the tension crackling between them. Under the table Col felt Elise’s slender leg pressed against his own, and his body heated as if he’d been lowered into a hot bath.

‘Like you can talk.’ He stabbed a ravioli with his fork.

‘I’m not stubborn.’

He thought for a moment. ‘No, you’re
beyond
stubborn. What would that be called? Bull-headed, perhaps?’

Her mouth formed an indignant little ‘o’ and blood roared in his ears. Feisty, prickly, claws-out Elise was always his favourite version of her. He felt as if that version of Elise could take on anything.

‘Look, this conversation is all very interesting but you still haven’t answered my question.’ She was trying to get the upper hand again.

‘What question?’

‘The one where I asked you
why
you have such a fear of public speaking.’ She watched him carefully.

‘And I told
you
I didn’t want to do the Dr Phil thing.’ He speared another piece of pasta and then another, his fork clicking against the china plate.

‘How can I help you if you won’t be up-front with me? You’re paying me—I would expect that you’d want your money’s worth.’

The defiant glint in her eyes made his throat clench.
She
was the one who’d said she wanted to keep it strictly business, not talk of the past, no questions and answers. Elise never did well with emotion, not those that were as uncomfortable and dark as he experienced anyway. She was raised to be stoic, and now she wanted to know what blemish—of the many—on his personal history made him this way.

He sighed, deciding it would be easier to take the high road. ‘Remember that time when we were kids and we had to give a presentation to homeroom on Family Day?’

Her golden brows creased; her eyes flickered as if she were flicking through the files in her memory.

‘You remember, Elise. Your dad came along and you both gave a presentation on catching bad guys.’

She nodded, confusion still twisting her features while she tried to remember. ‘It’s all a bit vague...’

‘My presentation didn’t go as well as yours.’ A lump lodged in his throat, the humiliation burning as brightly in his chest as it had all those years ago. ‘I was worried enough about having Dad come to the school as it was. I couldn’t say he was a doctor, a lawyer or a cop. He didn’t help people in his job...hell, he didn’t even
have
a job half the time. Then he turned up drunk.’

He watched blood drain from Elise’s face. Oh, yeah, she remembered it now.

‘He stumbled into the room and puked all over the floor.’ Her voice was a mere whisper. ‘They wanted to call child services but we ended up taking you home.’

‘You let me stay there for a week.’

‘And then after a while you moved in permanently.’ Her eyes flickered up to him.

‘
That’s
why I hate public speaking. At first I’d thought he’d forgotten about Family Day and hadn’t turned up like the bum he was, but then he stumbled in while I was speaking.’ He swallowed. Talking about it was like slashing open an old wound that had split and healed countless times over his life.

‘Everyone was looking at you. Looking at him.’ He heard the catch in her voice as she processed the memory.

‘Every time I get on stage all I can think about is him, ruining my presentation, showing everyone what I so desperately wanted to hide.’

‘No one will ever do that to you again. He won’t hurt you anymore.’ Her hands reached out to clasp his across the table.

She’d said she didn’t want to talk about the past, but her eyes stared at him as though she was trying to find the answers without asking any questions. He turned his hands over so they were palm to palm.

‘I know.’ Col sighed. ‘He’s dead.’

FIVE

After Elise dropped
Col back to his car she drove home, her head swimming with conflicting emotions. She was supposed to be angry at Col. After all, she was only helping him because he was paying her and she really,
really
needed the money. So why did she feel this aching compassion for him?

Was it because she’d remembered what he’d gone through growing up? Or because she knew that her one night in his arms had bound her to him forever?

She sat in the car outside her house, staring off into space. She supposed that in times of intense frustration others might cry, might scream, might release the tension. But she’d been trained to push it all down, to compact the emotions until they were tiny, dense cubes of feeling that she could swallow and hide away from the world.

Sighing, she got up from the driver’s seat and swung the car door open. The balmy night air caressed her bare legs and a light breeze ruffled her hair. She swung her bag over one shoulder and headed up the stone pathway to her small town house. Gardenia trees perfumed the air with their glorious, floral scent and Elise breathed deep. She needed to get Col out of her head for good. If only she could fast forward a few weeks until he was back in the States and she could go back to trying to piece her life together.

As she opened the front door a noise startled her. ‘Hello?’

‘Ellie?’ A croaky voice called out.

‘Mum? Is that you?’ Her heart sank. If her mother was here it could only mean one thing.

She found Darlene Johnson lying on the couch, her pale face lined with the pain of the past. Dark purple rings encircled her eyes, her bony arms wrapped around her slender body. She seemed to look thinner and thinner each day.

‘What are you doing here?’ She dropped her bag onto the coffee table and bent down to tend to her mother.

‘I couldn’t sleep.’

The older woman’s eyes were the exact same grey as Elise’s, her nose the exact same button shape. Elise’s father had always said she was a tiny replica of her mother, inside and out. Fierce, stubborn, bossy. Prone to pushing others around, loath to show weakness. At her best: a vivacious force. At her worst: an immovable object incapable of opening up.

Now her mother was an emotionless shell of a woman whose medication had hollowed her out and taken away her spark. ‘Do you want to stay here tonight?’

Darlene nodded. ‘I can sleep on the couch.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ Elise said, grabbing her mother’s hand and helping her to stand. ‘It’ll only take a second to make up the bed. Do you want a herbal tea?’

Darlene nodded again. Elise went into the kitchen and put the kettle on. She steadied herself against the countertop, massaging her temples with her fingertips. Sometimes she wondered if she was the right person to have been left in charge of this family after their lives turned to crap. But who else would have done it?

Her mother was incapable of even the most menial tasks on her bad days, and Elise’s brother Rich had bailed two years after their father died. So it was all on her shoulders to keep her mother safe and to make sure the ballet studio survived. Easy, right? She let out a breath and rolled her shoulders, trying to relax the tight muscles.

The kettle whistled and she poured the piping-hot water into an old teapot. While the tea bag steeped she made her mother a place to sleep. The old hinges of the sofa bed groaned when she unfolded them, the mattress threadbare in places. She fished the spare pillows from her hallway linen cupboard and poured two mugs of tea.

‘Thanks, Ellie.’ Darlene accepted the cup and sat down on the bed, shifting to avoid the patch where the hinges pushed through the mattress. ‘You’re a good daughter.’

Elise shifted, unused to such open praise from her mother.

‘The bank called me about the loan the other day.’ There was a tremor in her voice, a fear that made Elise’s heart feel as if it were about to splinter.

‘Yeah, they called me too.’

‘What are we going to do? I haven’t got much left—’

‘It’s fine, Mum. I’ll take care of it,’ she soothed.

The shakes had started; her hands trembled around the cup. The hot tea swished, slopping over the edge. ‘But they said—’

‘Stop worrying.’ Elise used a firm tone, her hand steadying Darlene’s wrist so she didn’t burn herself. ‘I’ll take care of it.’

‘You’re a good daughter,’ Darlene whispered again. ‘I never meant to put us in this situation. It’s all my fault, it’s all my fau—’

‘Stop it.’ She didn’t want to hear the guilty pleas, the declaration of fault. She didn’t want to talk about the past, not even with her own mother.

‘I’ve stuffed everything up. I’ve ruined it all.’

‘Stop!’ There was a waver in her voice, a crack showing in her façade. She couldn’t let her mother see the strain, the stress. She had to keep it locked down; she
had
to deal.

‘I wish your father were still here. I wish we’d never gone on that raid...’

‘You need to sleep, Mum. You’re getting delirious.’

Darlene handed her barely touched tea to Elise and crawled into the sofa bed. The white sheet outlined her childlike frame. Elise set the cups down on the coffee table and put a blanket over her mother.

‘Sleep tight,’ she whispered, patting her mother on the arm. She had an instinct to hug her but she held back; hugging had never been a very big part of the Johnson household. ‘Leave everything with me.’

Deep breathing filled the room. Peace, at last.

* * *

Rows and rows and rows of seats stretched out and up in front of him. They were empty, except for one in the centre of the front row. Elise looked at him and nodded encouragingly. He paced the stage, the sound of his shoes echoing in the silence.

‘You have to get comfortable with your surroundings,’ she said, standing up from her seat and walking up the steps that led onto the stage. ‘Get used to the space, know where the hazards are. Stand behind the lectern.’

‘Now?’

‘Yes, now,’ she said, her voice sharp, businesslike.

‘Bossy boots much,’ he muttered under his breath.

He’d been woken early by a phone call from Elise. Apparently she’d had a brainwave overnight and thought that the two of them should meet where his speech was to be held. There was no mention of the memory he’d shared at dinner, no questions about the audience or the speech itself. True to her word, she didn’t want to talk about any of that. Though now it was out in the open Col felt as if someone had unlocked the gates of his past, and he’d tossed and turned with dreams of his childhood all night.

‘I heard that.’

‘You were meant to.’ He stood behind the lectern, his hands immediately clutching it as if it were a life raft and he were stranded at sea.

‘Okay, smarty-pants. Does the mike work?’

There was an on-off switch. He pushed the button and a green light appeared at the base of the microphone. He tapped it and the sound echoed through the auditorium speakers.

‘Check, check. One, two.’

‘Very creative.’

Elise stood at the edge of the stage, one hand on her hip. She wore a pair of jeans that were shredded up and down the front so that enticing flashes of creamy skin peeked through. A plain black T-shirt sat close to the skin, highlighting her slim waist and small frame. Her hair was plaited over one shoulder, making her look young though not innocent, and she wore little make-up. As usual.

‘Now, pretend I’m your audience. You’re just talking to me, no judgement, no pressure.’ She gestured with her hands, a pile of bracelets jangling as she moved.

Col unfolded the page of notes he’d printed from his makeshift office at the hotel. He smoothed the creases with his palms, trying to ignore the tremor of his hands. It was just her, Elise. It would be the first time she’d seen him exposed, raw. He could do this.

‘Whereas once health and fitness was left in the hands of professionals,’ he began, ‘the introduction of smartphones, tablets and twenty-four-seven information has meant a dramatic shift in the way people manage their lives, health included. Technology companies have seized this opportunity, smart technology companies have used concepts like gamification to...’

He tripped over his words here and there, his breath short as the nerves tightened his chest and throat. But all the while Elise urged him on, smiling and nodding at the right points and using her hands to encourage him to keep going when he stumbled.

By the time he finished he felt as though he’d ridden a roller coaster: his stomach was fluttering; his heartbeat raced. He couldn’t even contemplate how it would feel on the day with hundreds of eyes staring back at him. But it was a step in the right direction.

He moved out from behind the lectern and Elise bounced up to him, throwing her arms around his neck. ‘I’m so proud of you.’

Time seemed to freeze in the moment her body pressed against him, his hands gluing themselves to her tiny waist. His whole world had suddenly shrunk to the space between them, the sound of his breath coming fast, the scent of soft flowers on her skin. She was it, the reason his heart continued to beat in those seconds, the reason he drew breath.

His hand traced a line up her arm, skating around her neck to cup the curve of her head. His fingers tangled in her hair, his thumb smoothing over the shell of her ear.

Her breath hitched, eyes fluttering. She lowered her hands from his neck until her palms were flat against his chest. ‘What happened to keeping this strictly business?’

‘You started it.’

She drew her bottom lip between her teeth and paused, as if deciding what to do. Her fingers fanned out, increasing the contact between them. He ached with the desire to kiss her. She shifted on the spot, brushing her pelvis against him so gently he might have imagined it. Arousal flared through him, spiralling heat down to his gut and hardening him in an instant.

‘I should stop it.’ Her voice cracked, colour spreading up her neck to bloom in her cheeks.

‘We both should.’

He ignored his own words, lowering his head slowly to hers. Her face tilted up, lips parting. Blood roared in his ears, pulsing loud and hot and fast. She would taste so sweet, so—

A bang from the other side of the auditorium startled them and they broke apart. Cool air rushed over him, the absence of her hands on his chest like a gaping chasm in his heart.

‘I didn’t mean to interrupt,’ the intruder said, sounding as though she didn’t care at all. ‘We need to set up for the next group coming through, so I’ll need to ask you to wrap it up now.’

* * *

Had she almost kissed Col? Her cheeks burned, skin scorched from his touch. Worst of all, her lady parts throbbed as if they’d had a glimpse of heaven and wouldn’t be quiet until they got what they wanted. She squeezed her thighs together, trying to squash the aching unfulfilled desire to no avail.

She fiddled with the end of her braid, needing desperately to occupy her hands now that they weren’t pressed against Col’s chest. God, she’d nearly fainted at the rock-hard muscle under her fingertips. She could only imagine how his body had morphed since she’d seen it last.

He looked utterly delectable today; he always did when he was at his most casual. Fitted jeans hugged his lean hips and curved around his perfect arse, a navy and white striped T-shirt accentuated broad shoulders and brought out the blue of his eyes. He wore his favourite sneakers, a pair of lived-in white Chucks identical to her own.

‘We should get going.’ His hand was at her arm, leading her to the exit.

The sunshine blinded her as they exited the conference building. The full-strength summer heat bore down reflecting off the building windows and washing everything out. She looked up to Col, shielding her eyes.

‘Where to now?’

She didn’t want to go home and the air conditioning still hadn’t been fixed at the studio. The first half of Col’s payment should be coming through shortly, but until then she was still keeping a low profile as far as her spending was concerned.

‘I’ve got some stuff to take care of at Dad’s place.’ He sighed, plucking the sunglasses that hung from the neckline of his T-shirt and slipping them on. ‘I need to get it done, otherwise the landlord is going to be on my case. Not that there’s anything worth salvaging in there.’

‘Need a hand?’

‘This doesn’t exactly feel like keeping it strictly business.’ Col tilted his head.

She didn’t like not being able to see his eyes; they always told her exactly how he was feeling. For a guy who’d been through what he had, he was still an open book. Anger, sadness and just about any other emotion showed itself so clearly on his face that he might as well have been a dictionary for feelings...at least where she was concerned.

She’d always liked that about him, envied it even. Elise had been raised to repress any extreme emotions. There were to be no tears, no screaming, no arguments in the Johnson household. Even hugs came at a premium. She’d never doubted that her parents loved her, but they were both hardened by their jobs in the police force and that hardness had infiltrated their home.

Falling apart in Col’s arms that night had been the closest she’d ever come to true, unadulterated emotion. To honest emotion. And look where it had landed her.

‘Besides, I thought you didn’t want to talk about the past,’ he said.

‘We don’t have to talk about it.’ She sighed, unable to articulate why she wasn’t yet ready to let him go. ‘I thought you might need a hand with packing up his things and clearing out the rubbish.’

‘I would be grateful for a hand.’ He smiled, his lips pulling back to reveal an utterly disarming grin.

She nodded, warmth blossoming in her chest...and she was sure it wasn’t from the sunshine.
You’re walking on dangerous ground, Johnson. Very. Dangerous. Ground.

* * *

Col’s father’s house was just as she remembered it from the few times she’d been there growing up. He’d never liked her visiting when he still lived at home and she had always suspected he was embarrassed by the strange stale alcohol smell and chaotic mess.

The garden was non-existent; the grass was brown in patches and completely absent in others. A few flowers within the clutches of death dotted the side fence and weeds sprouted up through the cracks in the cement path to the front door. The letterbox had taken a beating at some point, and the paint had chipped off in huge flakes. One of the numbers dangled from a single screw.