The Heartbroker (6 page)

And hey, if the rope fails and I plunge into the icy depths of the Kawarau River below, at least I’ll have company on the fall.

Not wanting to risk talking in case my voice sounds like Minnie Mouse, I nod and force a smile.

“Great!” I’m warmed by his enthusiasm—despite my anxiety.

Once we’re helmeted up and strapped in, sitting side by side, Logan takes my hand once again, looks directly into my eyes, and smiles. I’m so diverted by him that we’re suddenly zipping through the air before I realise we’ve even launched, the trees whizzing past us below.

It’s an exhilarating feeling as we rush through the cool air, me screaming my head off in what I’m sure must be a most unladylike manner. I really don’t care. This is
fun
!

We reach the end of the ride with a jolt, which makes my stomach do a flip, and are then transported back to our launching pad in a much more serene fashion.

As we climb out of our harnesses and remove our helmets, I know I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face if someone offered me a million bucks. I’m not sure whether it’s the zip ride, Logan, or a combination of the two, but I’m
invincible
right now.

“Oh, my god! That was amazing!” The adrenaline surges around my body, keeping me on my high.

Logan laughs. “It was, wasn’t it?”

“Oh, let’s do it again!”

“Maybe another time,” he replies, eyeing the growing queue of tourists and thrill- seekers waiting their turn.

As we wander away from the platform, he wraps his arm around my shoulders, pulling me in towards him. I have enough presence of mind now to appreciate how it feels, but don’t even bother trying to resist it. I’m in too much of a euphoric state to care right now, and being close to him is oh-so good.

“Hey, do you know what’s so amazing about this? You were scared out of your brain doing that, weren’t you?” It’s clearly a rhetorical question.

I laugh out loud, remembering my very recent behaviour with a tinge of shame. “Oh, you noticed, did you?”

“Um, yeah. Kinda. But you did it anyway, Brooke. I’m impressed.”

“Thanks.” I’m pretty darn rapt with myself too.

“So, do you think you’re up for a bungy jump now?” Hope flashes in his eyes.

I look up at the bridge above us as someone takes the leap off the edge, bungy cord strapped to his ankles.

I don’t know whether it was the zip ride euphoria, the desire to impress Logan, or simply Logan himself, but before I know what I’m doing I’m strapped onto a bungy cord, standing at the edge of the bridge, high above the river, preparing to jump.

Continuing the theme of the day, Logan suggests a tandem bungy, and, if you’ll excuse the weak pun, I leap at the idea. We’re standing side by side, our arms wrapped around one another, as the instructor asks if we’re ready.

“Hell, yes!” I exclaim, as we dart one another a quick look.

We take the leap together. As we go sailing through the air, I scream at the top of my lungs once again. The free fall is frightening, exhilarating and incredible all at the same time, and it goes by too fast as the bungy kicks in a mere handful of centimetres above the river’s surface and we’re bounced back up like fish on the end of a line.

We’re both still buzzing from the jump as we shakily step out of the boat we were lowered into.

“I take my hat off to you, Brooke Mortimer,” Logan says as we stand on the shoreline, looking up at the bridge we’ve just hurled ourselves off. “If I had a hat to take off right now, that is. Does a helmet count?”

I can’t quite believe I’ve done it. I’ve been scared of heights since I was a little girl, finding even the jungle gym at school a challenge. I used to watch other girls my age climb fearlessly up it and dangle upside down from their knees. I pretended I preferred the swings and slides, but I was jealous of their bravery, of their ability to climb up high and to have fun while doing it.

For someone who thought her brain might explode at the suggestion of the calm, serene zip ride, I’m pretty amazed at myself for having done a bungy jump.

“You too, Logan,” I reply, unable to resist the surge of pride from rising inside me. I give him a friendly punch on the arm. “I can’t quite believe you got me to do it.”

“It’s all you,” he replies, our eyes locking. I’m suddenly aware of our close proximity. “I’m so glad you came along for the ride.”

As I look at his handsome face, a stray hair that came loose from my ponytail during the jump blows across my cheek in the gentle breeze. Logan reaches out and brushes it away, grazing my cheek. His touch causes a tingling sensation so intense, so intimate, my heart rate quickens as my Girly Bits clench in expectation.

I catch my breath and my gaze moves down his face to his lips, wondering how he would taste, how his lips would feel pressed against mine.

Before I know what’s happening, his soft, sensual lips are on mine as we pull one another close, locking ourselves in an incredible embrace. And oh, it feels so good! As our tongues find one another his fingers slide up my neck and through my hair, tangling up in it, bringing my nerve endings alive. It’s like an electric shock.

Instinctively my entire body responds to him, as I arch my back at his touch, my desire for him coursing through my veins, my knees turning to jelly.

Our kiss is ferocious and deep, full of the promise of fulfilment as it releases the sexual tension between us in an exquisite explosion. My whole body tightens with lust. My Girly Bits, now fully awake, scream for more.

Kissing him is better than anything I’ve ever done. Ever. In fact, I wonder why I’ve bothered doing anything else in my life. I could live and die here in his arms, kissing this sexy, strong, wonderful man.

I’m like a heroine in a Forties movie, swooning as the handsome hero takes me in his arms. It’s so real, so right.

“Woo, yeah!”

A loud cheer interrupts our moment.

Suddenly realising my mistake, I pull away, shocked I allowed my feelings for him to sneak out. I look down at the ground, shifting my feet, smoothing my hair—
anything
not to look directly at him—as my cheeks redden in embarrassment.

“We get a lot of that after these jumps,” the guy who had untied our ankles in the boat says to us.

I turn to him, grateful for the distraction. “Really? I bet you do. All that adrenaline and stuff, I guess?”

“Yeah, but don’t let me interrupt. You can pash your boyfriend all you like.” He grins lasciviously at me.

“Oh, he’s not my boyfriend,” I reply, hurriedly.

“Even better!”

I glance at Logan and notice he’s enjoying our exchange, smiling to himself.

I clear my throat. “Logan, we should go.”

“Sure,” he replies, as I turn on my heel and walk away as fast as my trembling legs can take me.

BACK IN MY HOTEL room, I try hard to concentrate on answering emails but can’t stop my brain—and my body—from thinking of our kiss.

I can almost feel him pressed hard against me, our tongues entwined in our delicious, heat of the moment kiss. I’m virtually having a wet dream about this guy and it was just a kiss: an incredible one, granted, but just a kiss nonetheless.

I sit back at the desk in my room, looking out at the lake. It all happened so fast I can’t work out who initiated it. Was it Logan? Was it me? God, I hope it wasn’t me and he was just being polite by kissing me back.

Do
people kiss like that out of politeness?

Oh, why did we have to kiss at all? Sure, we were on a high from our jump, the adrenaline was surging, and we did have a fantastic day together. But I had vowed not to let my feelings get the better of me.

No. It was a mistake, a mistake on an epic scale. Not only did I break my rule to stay away from men, I got myself entangled with the very man who holds the fate of my company in his hands.

The very hands that felt so incredible tangled up in my hair.

Talk about choosing the wrong guy.

And what’s more, I saw him leave the restaurant in Wellington with Lucinda Hargreaves, and I can’t imagine it was to go for a cup of tea and cucumber sandwiches. She would have offered it all up to him on a platter, and I imagine he would have found her and her overt womanly wiles hard to resist. Hell, he’s only a man, after all.

The bus ride back to Queenstown was more than just a touch awkward, with me struggling to talk about anything other than what had just happened between us. I imagine I sounded like a demented parrot, squawking on about random things for the whole trip, my ‘silence-is-power’ approach well and truly flown out the bus window.

I put my head in my hands and groan to myself. Why does Logan have to be so freaking hot? And why can’t I control myself around him? Seriously, I’m like some lovelorn pre-pubescent teenager, desperate for my idol to show even the tiniest bit of interest in me.

Right now I wouldn’t put it past me to blow his profile picture up to poster size, stick it on my bedroom wall, and have fake conversations with him before kissing his papery lips each night.

I’m so angry with myself I could scream!

My phone rings, jolting me out of my thoughts. It’s Alexis.

“Hey.” I’m glad of the intrusion.

“Brooke! I’m so happy I caught you,” she says with exuberance. Whatever’s happening in her world doesn’t involve the conflicting emotions I’m dealing with.

“You sound good.” The understatement of the year.

“Oh, the most wonderful thing has happened! But I can’t tell you over the phone. When are you back in Welly?”

“Monday morning. Why? You have to tell me what’s going on.”

“Let’s meet for coffee at ten. Astoria? I’ll tell you then.”

“You can’t do this to me!” It’s only Thursday, Monday’s days away.

“I just did,” she trills cheerfully.

“Give me a hint?”

“No can do, Brooke. I’ve gotta go. See you Monday at ten.” And then she’s gone, leaving me wondering what’s got her so excited. Maybe her company won some new big business? I guess I’ll have to wait until Monday.

I almost feel lucky to have my current emotional turmoil as distraction between now and then. Well, almost.

“There’s a tentative knock at my door. Housekeeping, probably. I glance around the spotless room; hardly worth it, I’ve barely used the room. Still pondering possibilities for Alexis’s good mood, I open the door.

It’s Logan, smiling sheepishly at me. “Hey.”

The acrobats in my belly go at it again. “Hi, Logan.”

We stand in my doorway uncomfortably. I don’t know quite what to say.

Logan breaks the awkward silence. “I’m heading out for some dinner and wondered if you’d like to join?”

The self-preservation in my brain kicks in. Finally.

“Thanks. I’ve got quite a lot of work to do, Logan. I think I’ll just get some room service and press on here.”

Where was this resolve at the bungy jump this afternoon when I needed it most?

He grins at me playfully. “I think we can do better than room service, don’t you?”

I bite my lip, thinking up another excuse. Truth be told, I brought
Sleepless in Seattle
on DVD with me, and I rather like the idea of curling up in bed and watching it on my laptop tonight with a glass of wine.

Before I have the chance to answer, he continues, “I hope you don’t think I’m being presumptuous, but I’ve booked a table for two at a place in town the concierge recommended. It looks great.”

What can only be regarded as my flaky resolve begins to waiver at the thought of hitting the town with Logan. Before our kiss complicated things this afternoon, we had an amazing time together, and I know we would have a lot of fun going out for dinner.

What’s more, I remind myself, regardless of anything that may have happened between us, Logan is still
You: Now
’s representative. Without them my big plans to expand into other countries will be just that—plans.

I take a deep breath, relenting. “Okay. But it can’t be a late one. I honestly do have a lot of work to get through.”

Perhaps not the most circumspect decision, considering how I feel about him and the fact that we shared that incredible kiss just hours ago. But it’s in
Live It
’s interests to keep him sweet in order to broker this important deal.

Well, that’s the story I’m telling myself.

“Excellent.”

“Can you give me ten minutes to get ready? I can meet you in the lobby.”

“Sure. Of course. See you down there in ten.”

* * *

“I hope you like Mexican,” Logan says as we walk out of the hotel into the frosty evening air.

“Who doesn’t?” I’ve had some legendary nights out eating Mexican food and indulging in the odd margarita or two in Wellington, and I certainly know my mole from my tamale these days.

He grins at me as he zips his jacket up against the cool air. He’s wearing a collared shirt, jeans and boots combo, with a casual black zip-up jacket. Once again, he looks devastatingly handsome—almost too good to be true—and I repeat my mantra in my head: ‘
It’s just business
…”

Forget the fact just a few short hours ago I was passionately kissing the man at my side on the banks of the Kawarau River. And loving it too.

The restaurant is decorated typically for a Mexican place, with large, bulky wooden tables and bright, colourful pictures adorning the walls. It’s warm, smells amazing, and is completely packed. We’re lucky Logan had the foresight to book or we would be turned away.

“Table for McManus, please,” Logan says to a young, hip looking maître d’ with a very low-cut top that leaves little to the imagination.

She looks him up and down, quite obviously checking him out. I’m mildly offended on his behalf.

“I’ll just check.” She winks and smiles at him as she runs her finger down the list of the evening’s bookings. The cheek of her!

I glance incredulously at Logan and note he’s barely registered her existence as anything other than a member of the restaurant staff.

“Come with me,” she purrs, grabbing a couple of menus and sauntering off, hips swinging towards our table.

We reach the table and Logan pulls my chair out for me again before I can stop him. I take my seat.

“Your waiter will be here to take your order soon,” she says as she passes us our menus.

She turns to Logan, leans in towards him and adds in lowered tones, “But you just let me know if you need anything. Absolutely anything.”

As he gets an eyeful of her cleavage, I can’t help but laugh at her outlandish come on, and she shoots me an evil look as she turns and saunters away, clearly for Logan’s benefit, not mine.

“She was a bit much, huh?” Logan comments once she’s on the other side of the restaurant.

“Do you have this effect on every woman you meet?” I realise too late I’ve inadvertently given my feelings for him away. Not too clever, Brooke

“Oh, of course. They fall at my feet wherever I go,” he replies, deadpan.

I let out a snicker. “That must be
such
a problem for you.” I’m enjoying our easy repartee.

“Oh, it has its uses,” he replies, raising his eyebrows at me suggestively, causing me to let out another laugh. “I find New Zealanders real friendly.”

My mind darts to Lucinda Hargreaves and how he’d left the restaurant with her that night. ‘Friendly’ doesn’t even begin to describe Lucinda’s approach to tallying up the men.

I must have a sceptical look on my face as Logan asks, “What? You don’t agree? I’ve found all the Kiwis I’ve met on my trip here really great. Are you telling me I’ve been fooled and you’re all just a pack of assholes at heart?”

He grins at me and I shift uncomfortably. An image of Lucinda and her buxom, bouncing assets flashes before my eyes.

Even though it shouldn’t be of any concern to me—I’ve made the decision Logan is a no-go zone, after all—part of me needs to know whether he did in fact go home with Lucinda that night.

Before I can stop myself, I ask, “Can I ask you something? I mean, feel free not to answer, because it isn’t any of my business or anything.”

“Ask away.” He smiles, indulging at me.

I’m suddenly very nervous. “Did you have a nice time with Lucinda?”

“Who?” he asks, sounding surprised.

“Lucinda. You met at Charlie Noble, the restaurant I saw you at in Wellington? You left with her.”

“Oh, Lu.” My heart sinks at his use of her nickname.

“Yes, sure. We did. She was real friendly.”

I bet she was.

I let out a bitter chortle and he darts me a quizzical look. “What’s Lu got to do with anything?”

“Did you sleep with her?” I whisper, not sure I want to hear his response.

“
Sleep
with her? No! What makes you think I did that?”

A wave of relief washes over me. Lucinda failed to catch her prey? That must have been a first. I bet she’s spitting tacks over letting Logan slip through her fingers.

I shrug. “I just thought—” I stop before I incriminate myself any further.

As far as Logan is concerned, I’m the woman he’s brokering a partnership deal with. I can’t go acting like a jealous girlfriend now. I haven’t earned that right.

“I’m sorry. I thought you might have, but it’s none of my business if you did.”

I watch as his smile spreads from ear to ear. “She offered to take Chad and me to a bar we’d heard of, so we left. We just had one drink and then we said goodbye to her and came back to the restaurant.”

“You did?” I ask in surprise.

“Yeah, but you must have left already.”

“Oh.” The girls and I had a quick bite before heading to the movies. We must have just missed him. I wonder why he came back?

“You know, her type is a dime a dozen where I’m from.”

“I bet.” I return his smile, my head buzzing with a cocktail of emotions: from relief to embarrassment, with a growing urge to reach across the table, pull him to me, and kiss his sweet, soft lips right off his delectable face.

“So,” he begins, changing the subject as he peruses his menu. “What looks good to you?”

I resist the urge to say ‘you’, and instead look over my menu, settling on a sizzling chicken fajita.

“After the excitement of today, I’m going to order a frozen margarita. Will you join me?” Logan asks, and I’m unclear whether he’s referring to our jumping adventures or our post-bungy activity.

I clear my throat, pushing thoughts of the incredible way his lips felt on mine out of my mind. “Sounds good. Although just the one for me tonight. I need to work later.”

I sit back in my chair, satisfied I’m setting the tone for the evening: this is a dinner between colleagues, after which I will be returning to work. I think that’s clear.

“Sure.” He smiles and orders our drinks.

“This place is so beautiful. You sure live in an amazing country.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“You guess? It’s incredible! I’ve just seen mountains, lakes, fiords, geysers and boiling mud, all within a sixteen-hundred mile radius.”

“Wow, you’ve been busy since I last saw you. Where have you been?”

He looks a little bashful. “I’ll tell you, but you can’t breathe a word to anyone else, okay?”

Wondering what weird and wonderful things he’s been up to, I lean in conspiratorially. “Agreed.”

“Well, I’ve been on a tour.”

“Well that’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Why the secret squirrel act?”

“It was a tour for fans of, umm, The Hobbit.”

“Oh, I see,” I murmur, smiling. “So you’re telling me you’re a sci fi geek.”