The Heartbroker (13 page)

Yes, I’ve got to be that crab again. I’ve let my tough shell slip too much in the last few days—with Logan and now with Jennifer—and it’s time I hardened up so I can face whatever crap the world wants to throw at me.

* * *

Once I’m home, unpacked, and drinking a medicinal glass of wine on my sofa, I get a call from Logan.

“How are you?” he asks hurriedly. “I’ve been so worried.”

I smile, thinking how wonderful it is to have a man in my life, a man who cares for me. Especially a man like Logan. I’ve pretty much hit the jackpot with this one. Then it hits me afresh he’s leaving the country tomorrow.

“I’m all right. Just getting used to the idea, I guess.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.

I’m so comfortable with Logan I tell him everything I know about what’s going on, right down to the ways in which Dylan and Grace are dealing with it.

“And how about you? How are you coping?” he asks.

“I’m trying to focus on the next steps and not think about what might be, you know?”

“That’s probably the best way to deal with it right now, honey,” he replies and warmth spreads through my belly at his first use of the endearment.

“You know, I didn’t get to say goodbye to you properly today. I’m sorry. I want you to know I had a great time with you. The best time with you.”

Logan’s time with
Live It
is due to end tonight with the closing of the seminar. My heart drops at the thought of him going back to the States, of our time together coming to an end.

“So, when do you fly out?” I don’t want to know the answer.

“Well, now we’ve verbally agreed to the partnership and you have the contract, my work here is done, as the saying goes. Brad and I fly out tomorrow morning,” he replies, a little too perkily for my liking.

“Oh,” I reply, deflated. Why doesn’t he feel as depressed as me about this?

“And I land at eleven-thirty.”

“In Auckland?” I assume he’s catching his flight back to San Francisco from there.

“No, I don’t reach Auckland until Sunday next week.”

“Oh. So where are you off to?”

“Wellington,” he replies, and I can hear the smile in his voice.

“Really? Why?” I yelp, hardly believing my ears.

“Why do you think? I have a few days’ leave owing, and I figured, why not spend it in the world’s coolest little capital with this hot babe I’ve just hooked up with?”

“Nice turn of phrase, you’ve got there, cowboy,” I comment, happiness spreading from my head all the way down to my toes at the thought of seeing him tomorrow.

He chuckles. “Shall we meet for dinner tomorrow night? You pick the place, but it’s my treat.”

“Wild horses couldn’t keep me away.”

After one of those long farewells people in new relationships do—the old “You hang up,” “No, you hang up” routine—I head to bed, exhausted from the day’s events, and excited about seeing Logan again tomorrow.

“OH, MY GOD! YOU slept with him, didn’t you?” Alexis cries, her eyes wide, a look of incredulity splashed across her pretty face.

We’ve met for our scheduled cup of coffee at Astoria, in my opinion the city’s best café in a veritable sea of supreme caffeine offerings, and Alexis’s eyes are shining as she stares at me, open mouthed.

Is it that obvious I slept with him? Mental note: work on my poker face. It’s obviously woeful.

I can’t help but smile as my mind shoots to my hotel room in Queenstown and how Logan’s hands had felt grasping my back, his mouth on mine, as we moved in rhythmic perfection together, sweat rolling down our faces.

I clear my throat.

“I did,” I confirm in a matter-of-fact way.

I mean, she’s guessed it and I was pretty sure it was written all over my face anyway. There’s no point beating about the proverbial bush here.

The look on my friend’s face says it all: horror, concern, and disbelief. Maybe a little bit impressed?

I put my hand up to stop her saying anything, despite the fact the power of speech appears to have deserted her.

“I know I said I’d never do it, that my relationship with Logan was strictly business. I know. But what I didn’t reckon on was how I would feel about him. And how he would feel about me.” A smile spreads across my face. “He’s
so
amazing, Alexis. He’s kind, smart, and thoughtful. He’s totally driven and really successful. Not only that, we have so much in common. And he’s
so
hot. You know, you’ve met him.”

It’s a little like I’m justifying a murder here.

By now my level-headed friend has crossed her arms and I suppress the almost overwhelming urge to continue to blabber on about how wonderful Logan is. Instead, I decide the best thing—the only thing—to do is sit tight and wait for her reaction.

What I don’t expect is how
long
she keeps me waiting. She just sits there, arms crossed, looking into my face, evidently processing the information I’ve imparted.

From anyone else this could seem like a ploy to make me uncomfortable, but I know Alexis well enough to know she likes to think before she speaks—a very rare quality in this day and age.

It could be because she’s the eldest in a large family of Irish Catholics. With four sisters and one brother—the poor sod never stood a chance—there was so much highly opinionated chatter going on in the family home, she told me she would just shut up until everyone had run out of steam.

Finally she speaks. “You know, Brooke, I totally get it. He’s cute, he’s clearly your type, and yes, I agree with you, he’s hotter than Hugh Jackman.” She pauses. “Well, not quite.” She smiles.

I know how much she fancies Hugh Jackman. I feel the magnitude of her compliment.

I laugh nervously, expecting the ‘but’.

“But.”

Ah, yes, there it is.

“Have you thought about the impact this could have on your working relationship? I mean, you’ve just told me how likely it is you’ll be working closely with his company now, and office romances can end badly. And then where are you? Not only that, but he’s powerful, right?”

“Yes, he is.” He’s one of the senior executives of the company, and has worked for them for years. “That said, he’s in mergers and acquisitions, so effectively his work with
Live It
is done now. My contact with the company will be with another division altogether.”

“But he’s on the leadership team, right?”

I nod.

“Do you think they’ll choose you over him if your relationship goes tits up?” It’s clearly a rhetorical question; she answers before I have time to draw breath. “No, they won’t. You yourself said there’s a lot at stake here, Brooke, and I know how important your company is to you. All I’m saying is, please be careful.”

She reaches across the table and rubs my shoulder. Alexis is an amazing friend: she’s loyal and caring, and not afraid to say it like it is.

Even if what she says is the last thing you want to hear.

I take a deep breath. “Look, I know all those things. I know my rational brain is screaming at me right now. But the heart wants what the heart wants, right? And my heart wants Logan. Alexis, he makes me feel so incredible, in a way I haven’t felt since Scott.
More
so than with Scott, even.”

Scott. The man I fell for hook, line, and sinker. The man who reciprocated by stomping on my heart with his expensive tennis shoes.

“You have to believe me, Alexis. It’s different this time.
He’s
different. He’s definitely not Scott Wright, that’s for sure. And I’m not going to rush into anything. I’m going to keep the work thing separate and just see where our relationship goes.”

She stands and gives me a long hug. “I want you to be with a great guy, Brooke. Hell, you deserve it. I just want you to be careful with this one. Promise me?”

“I promise,” I reply, giving my best impression of a girl-scout salute.

Alexis laughs. “You’re a total dork, you know that?”

“Yep, but I’m a dork who’s getting some,” I reply with a cheeky grin and a wink.

“Hey, you know what he is?” she asks. “He’s your ‘heartbroker’.”

“My what?” I ask, puzzled.

“He came here to broker a deal with you, right? And what he got was your heart. That makes him your ‘heartbroker’.”

I laugh. “I hadn’t thought of it like that.” A brief chill runs down my spine. “But don’t say that. It sounds too much like ‘heart
breaker’
.”

Let’s change the subject. “Anyway, enough about me. What’s your exciting news?”

She raises her left hand, displaying the largest diamond ring I think I’ve ever seen up close. I can’t quite believe I’ve missed it: it’s the size of a small planet, possibly Pluto—No wait, Venus, since Pluto got downgraded.

“Oh, my god!” I screech. “You’re engaged? And you let me blab on and on about Logan all this time?”

I jump up from my chair, almost knocking the coffee cups from our table onto the floor, and give her a hug. She proffers her hand and I take it, inspecting the ring. “Oh, Alexis, it’s stunning.”

Alexis can’t wipe the smile from her face. “I know. Can you believe it? He asked me on Friday night and I was just bursting to tell you.”

“I can, and I do,” I reply. “You’re the perfect couple, and he adores you. Of course he wants to marry you.”

She flushes with pleasure.

“Now, tell me all about it.”

“We went for a hike up Mount Kau Kau together. On the way up he was acting so strangely, I started to get concerned for his health, to be honest. Anyway, we got to the top, next to the mast, and he grabbed my hands, went down on one knee, and pulled out this amazing ring.” She holds out her hand once again, gazing down at the rock.

I clap my hands together in excitement. Alexis has been with Tim for some time now. They go together like bacon and eggs. You’d be hard pressed to meet two people better suited, or two people more in love.

“You’re going to tell me he chose it all on his own, aren’t you?”

“He did. I am amazed. He’s got such great taste.”

“Of course he has: he chose you. Now, tell me how he asked you and what you said, and, well, everything.”

Alexis proceeds to tell me how Tim had made a speech about how he couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have her, how he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, and how they should never be apart. And she said ‘yes’ without a moment’s hesitation.

It’s all so romantic I think I might actually swoon.

“We don’t have a date yet, but will you be my bridesmaid?”

“Of course I will! Are you crazy? Just as long as you don’t put me in one of those pink puffball dresses,” I reply.

“Never,” she replies, widening her eyes and shaking her head. “You and Laura can choose whatever you want.”

“Yay, Laura’s a bridesmaid too? Oh, we’re going to have so much fun!”

“Yes, and my sisters, of course,” she adds.

“Of course! We have to celebrate with something better than coffee. How about drinks on Saturday night? You, me, Grace, and your sisters? It’ll be the first official bridal party get together.”

Logan leaves on Saturday morning, so I know I’m going to want a distraction. A celebration for my dear friend is just the ticket.

“Let’s just make it you, me, and Laura. I can do without my sisters.”

“Sure.” I chuckle. Families might be the most important things in the world, but it’s nice to just hang out with your friends sometimes.

My phone beeps and I notice it’s a text from Grace. I frown, which Alexis notices immediately.

“What’s the matter, babe?” she asks.

I swallow hard and paste on a bright smile. “Nothing. Just work stuff,” I lie.

Alexis sizes me up. “Tell me.”

“I don’t want to burst your bubble,” I reply, knowing news of Jennifer’s cancer will certainly do that for Alexis.

“I’m a big girl, Brooke. Please, tell me.”

I sigh, resigned. “It’s Jennifer. She’s got breast cancer.”

“Oh, my god.” Alexis looks shocked.

“I only found out yesterday. She’s seeing her doctor this week, so we’ll know more then.”

“Wow. I’m so sorry, Brooke. Please send her my love.” She rubs my hand and I have to hold back the tears. “You’ve certainly had a big weekend.”

Ain’t that the truth.

BACK IN THE OFFICE I’m engrossed in re-reading the partnership agreement Logan sent me, translating the crazy language lawyers favour the world over, when Stefan pokes his head around my office door.

“Morning, boss. You free?”

I’m happy to have a break from the legalese. “Sure. Come on in. Did you just get back?”

He sits down on a chair next to my desk. “Yes. Our flight was delayed, but we’re back on terra firma now. So,
you
left Queenstown pretty fast. What’s the haps?”

As Stefan and I are close, I share Jennifer’s news with him.

“Shit. That sucks.”

“Yeah, it does,” I agree with a bitter laugh. “But at least we’ve got something we need to focus our attention on right now.”

“What?”

Despite having relived Jennifer’s health dramas, I can’t help a smile from spreading across my face when I think about how our dreams of expansion are about to be realised.

“I spoke with Logan, and he confirmed they want to sign this contract with us. I’m just reading it now before I send it off to the lawyers.”

“Really?” He looks dubious. “What about that conversation I overheard between him and Brad?”

“After you told me about it, I got to thinking.”

“That Logan’s a double-crossing piece of scum?”

“Stefan, he explained everything.”

“I bet he did,” Stefan replies, crossing his arms. “What did he say, exactly?”

“He told me
You: Now
had every intention of entering a partnership with us, and it was actually Brad who was having second thoughts.”

He bites his lip, narrowing his eyes at me. “And you believed him, didn’t you?”

A blush rises in my cheeks. “Yes, I did, Stefan,” I say in a brusque don’t-mess-with-me manner. “And here’s the evidence.” I pass the contract to him. “Why would Logan give me this and mean to double-cross us? It doesn’t make sense.”

“Harrumph,” he replies, taking the contract from me and flipping through its pages.

I lean back in my chair, confident he has no legitimate comeback—other than his irrational dislike of Logan, of course.

“So are we going for it?” he asks.

I nod, smiling. “Yeah, I think we are. But there’s one thing I’m thinking of adding.”

“What’s that?”

“I have my concerns over whether Brad might be able to influence Geoff Friedlander into changing their minds. Did you know Brad is Geoff’s son?”

“Really?” he responds in surprise.

“Really. I think not only do we want to get this contract signed as soon as we can, I’m thinking of adding a break clause. I need to clear it with the lawyers, but I know my dad has used them in his property development business in the past.”

“What will it do for us?”

“It will mean if things don’t work out with
You: Now
we can separate from them and keep the
Live It
brand. Which of course is very valuable to us.”

“So it’s a self-protection clause?”

“Yes, a kind of ‘get out of jail free’ card, I suppose.”

“Sure, but this isn’t Monopoly, Brooke. Couldn’t they could use the clause too?” he asks.

“Well, yes, sure. They’d never sign the contract if it was all going to benefit us and not them. Think about it, Stefan: if they decide things aren’t working out, I can buy back my fifty per cent interest from them and we’ll go back to the way things were.”

“Are you sure about this, Brooke?”

“Look, we pursued
You: Now
because we want to break into the Australian and Asian markets, right?”

He nods.

“With their help, I’m positive we can crack those markets, and if we do, it’s a win-win situation.”

“And if we don’t?”

“If we don’t, then
Live It
is still the number one personal development company here in New Zealand,” I reply with satisfaction.

“But they still own half of our business.”

“Yes. I know it’s not perfect, but we both know this is the best shot we have at expansion.”

Stefan pauses, considering the information I’ve shared with him. “Well, you’re the boss. And whether it was Logan or Brad, one of them was unquestionably trying to screw us over. And I’m still not convinced it was Brad.”

“It’ll all be irrelevant once this contract is signed, Stefan. Now, I want to get this out to the lawyers this morning, so go and do something useful, will you?”

“Sure thing, boss,” he replies, smiling. “And Brooke? Congratulations.”

* * *

“You look particularly beautiful, tonight,” Logan says as he holds the restaurant door open for me.

“Why, thank you, kind sir.” I walk past him and into Boulcott Street Bistro, one of the city’s best and longest-standing fine dining restaurants.

“Nice choice.” I look around the room appreciatively.

“Thanks. I have a good adviser,” he replies, taking my coat.

I wonder who his adviser could be. They’ve managed to pick one of my all-time favourite restaurants. “Who?” 

“Oh, just a little bird. I need to protect my sources.”

I let out an easy laugh. “I wouldn’t want to put you in a compromising position.”

He raises his eyebrows at me, and we share a look, my Girly Bits pricking up their ears. “Later,” he murmurs into my ear, before we turn to follow the maître d’ to our table.

“Legal say they haven’t seen your contract amendments yet,” he comments once we’ve had our first sip of wine, a sauvignon blanc from the Marlborough region in the South Island.

“No. Our lawyers are still working through it. They’ve promised to expedite it, so I should have their comments in the next day or two.”

“Excellent.” He smiles at me across the table. “So we don’t have to talk about work at all tonight.”

“Exactly. What have you been up to in my fair city today?”

“Oh, I’ve had an awesome day. I started with a run around Oriental Bay where I stopped for a coffee at a place with a great view of the city. Then I had to do some work, so went back to the hotel to do that. Then I went to The Weta Cave and did the tour again.”

He flashes me a broad smile and I chuckle, shaking my head at him. He had been to The Weta Cave, the movie effects workshop responsible for films such as The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit, on his first trip to Wellington before we went to Queenstown.

“What?” He looks both indignant and amused in equal parts.

“You’re such a Tolkien geek, aren’t you?”

“Loud and proud. You should come. It’s awesome. You get to see how they work.”

“Sure,” I reply, thinking how enjoyable it would be to share Logan’s passion with him. “That sounds like fun. Even though I’m more of a rom com kind of girl.”

Our waiter interrupts us with an outline of the dining offerings and, once we’ve both ordered, conversation flows again.

“How many chick flicks have you actually seen?”

“Excuse me, they’re called ‘rom coms’, not ‘chick flicks’. And I’ve seen a few.” I don’t want to admit to the full extent of my obsession.

“Chicks,” he says good-humouredly, shaking his head.

“Well from the perspective of a ‘chick’, as you put it,” I begin, using air quotes, “what’s not to love about a romantic comedy? Cute guy? Check. Nice clothes? Check. Happy ending? Check. Perfection.”

“You see that’s exactly what I don’t like about them. They’re so predictable. You know the guy will get the girl in the end. Why bother watching it?”

“I’ll tell you what: I’ll stick with my movies, and you can stick with yours. Deal?”

“Deal,” he replies, finding my hand on the table with his, our eyes locking.

My heart clenches.

The waiter delivers our meals, breaking the spell. As we eat we talk about a wide variety of things, until I pluck up the courage to ask about his ex-wife.

“I married my college sweetheart, straight out of school. A lot of our friends were doing it at the time, and it seemed logical that we would too. We had the big white church wedding, got the house with a mortgage the size of Texas, then settled down into spending the next fifty years together.”

“What happened?”

“Reality bit, I guess. I woke up one day and realised I wanted something different. We’d built this world for ourselves—hanging out with other married couples like us, doing home improvements at the weekend—but it kind of felt like we were just playing at being married. I guess we were too young.”

“Some relationships formed when you’re young work out, though. My friend, Laura, married her high school boyfriend. They’re still together, got three kids, living in marital bliss.”

“I’m not saying they can’t work if you get together young, just it didn’t work for us.”

“So you left her?”

“We left each other. She hadn’t wanted to admit it, but she was feeling the same way too. We split up about seven years ago now, when I was twenty-seven. We’re still friends, not that we see each other much. She’s married with a couple of kids, living in Oakland across the Bay.”

“Seven years is a long time. There must have been someone else?” I ask.

“Of course. I’m not a monk. A man has needs, you know.” He raised his eyebrows at me suggestively.

I force a light laugh, pushing unpalatable images of Logan with other women out of my head.

He reaches across the table, taking my hand in his, looking suddenly serious. “But there hasn’t been anyone who comes within a thousand yards of you, Brooke.”

My heart expands. “Me too. I mean I haven’t met anyone as wonderful as you.”

He grins at me, both of us revelling in our feelings for one another.

The waiter appears at my elbow, popping our bubble. “Everything to your liking?” he enquires.

Logan releases my hand as we both lean back in our chairs. “Yes, great, thanks.”

As the waiter leaves, Logan rolls his eyes at me. “Talk about breaking the mood. Anyway, what about you?”

“What about me what?”

“Any juicy skeletons in your closet?”

“
I’ve
never been married,”

“I know,” he says matter-of-factly.

“You do?” I ask in surprise.

He chuckles. “There’s this thing called social media. You might have heard of it even way down here.” He shrugs with a glint in his eye. “I checked you out.”

“You did?” I’m flattered.

“Yeah. And if you have been married, you’ve managed to keep it pretty secret.”

“No, never married. But I did live with someone. An American guy, actually. We broke up just over a year ago.”

“I see. Got a thing for us Americans, do you?”

“Well, if I do, it’s entirely subconscious,” I reply, laughing. “But I’ve well and truly moved on.”

I’m struck by the realisation I have in fact moved on, and Scott is now only my ex. It’s so liberating.

After our delicious meal, Logan and I stroll through bustling Cuba Mall hand in hand, ensconced in our own little bubble.

We reach his hotel and my body begins to buzz, knowing what’s to come. Without saying a word, he leads me to his room, closing the door behind us as I take off my coat.

We both know we want the same thing from each other, and neither of us needs to ask.

Unlike our first feverish encounter, he undresses me slowly, taking his time as he kisses my face, then my neck, and down my chest to my cleavage, easily pulling my dress over my head.

“Oh, Brooke.” His voice is husky as he unhooks my bra, caressing and kissing my erect nipples, causing goose bumps to spring up all over my body.

A deep, strong thrum for him runs through my body, settling between my legs. I’m aching for him.

And then I slip off his jacket and unbutton his shirt, kissing his firm, toned chest as I work my way down his delicious body.

I unbuckle his belt and slip my hand down inside his jeans. He’s ready for me, and he lets out a deep groan as I caress him, our tongues finding one another in a deep kiss.

Some time later we fall asleep in his bed, arms wrapped around one another, awakening with a knock on the door heralding our early room service breakfast.

As I eat my bacon and eggs, sitting next to him in bed, both dressed in our hotel-issued white towelling robes, I’m so happy, so calm.

I never want this to end.

“Do I get to see you tonight for a repeat performance?” he asks as I kiss him goodbye, knowing I’m about to do the humiliating ‘walk of shame’ in last night’s clothes back to my place. “The things you do to me, Brooke Mortimer…” He shakes his head, grinning, a sexy sparkle in his eyes.

I kiss him slowly on the lips. “Just try and stop me.” I curse the fact I have a job I need to go to. But then, if I didn’t have that job, I never would have met this incredible man.