“At the risk of ruining the mood, do you want to know how things went with Christopher?”
Steele’s grin faded, his expression eerily blank. “I would’ve asked if I wanted to know.”
Zane could read his brother, every little tell, and the vein pulsing at his temple meant Steele was trying to stay in control. But he couldn’t hide the curiosity in his eyes.
“We’ve Skyped once. Met in person once. That’s it.”
Steele shrugged, as if he didn’t give a damn.
“Gave me some cock-and-bull story about staying away because we’d hate him—”
“He got that right, the bastard,” Steele said, his tone frigid.
“He also said he stayed away because mum had depression, was unstable, and he thought she might harm herself and us if he kept pushing for visitation.”
Steele’s head snapped up, his expression so bleak Zane wished he’d shut the hell up. “He’s blaming Mum?”
Uh-oh. Zane could’ve sworn he saw the whites of Steele’s eyes as they rolled back in his head.
“Not blaming, as such. Explaining his rationale, I guess.”
Steele’s silence scared him more than any possible ranting.
So he tried to fill the void. “I always thought Mum was sad. I didn’t know she had clinical depression.”
“Me either.” Steele stood and started pacing. “Still doesn’t explain why he stayed away once we were adults and not living at home anymore.”
“Yeah, I confronted him about that. He said all the right things but…”
Steele stopped and eyeballed him. “What?”
“Guess there’s nothing he could say that could make up for the past but I was willing to give him a chance for the future.”
“Was?”
Trust Steele to hone in on the one word that was a dead giveaway of his ambivalence toward Christopher.
“I think you were right. He’s a flake. And a narcissistic bastard.”
A sharp laugh devoid of humor erupted from Steele’s thinned lips. “Can I say
told you so
?”
“Yeah, but doesn’t change the fact I’m not giving up.”
“What the fuck?” Steele sank onto the sofa again, appearing oddly defeated. “You’re hanging around for more?”
“I’ve had to fight my whole life to get where I am today.” Zane held out his hands, nothing to hide. “It’s not in my DNA to give up. And family is worth it.”
He stared at Steele, silently imploring him to understand. Steele had warned him off coming to the States, had made a bunch of doomsday prophecies that it wouldn’t end well. But the way he saw it, he’d done the right thing. Wyatt was a cool guy and Kurt had potential. As for his father, Zane wasn’t a quitter. Never had been. It’s what had driven him to the top in Aussie Rules and he’d be damned if he gave up on his dad because the old codger didn’t have a clue.
“You’re really doing this? Trying to make it work with the bastard who abandoned us without looking back?”
Steele’s audible disgust made it sound like he was about to stick a hot poker in his eye.
“Yeah, I need to do this. Stick around for a while. See what happens.”
Steele’s lips compressed as he shook his head. “Fine. But this time, I’m going to be around if you need me.”
Zane felt his jaw drop. “What?”
Steele managed a wan smile. “I’m here for you. I can stay for a month tops. After that, you’re on your own.”
“Thanks.” Zane couldn’t keep the smile off his face and Steele shot him a defiant glare.
“But don’t push me, okay? If I want to meet Wyatt and Kurt, I’ll do it on my terms.”
“No problem.”
Zane didn’t ask about a potential meeting with Christopher. He knew Steele would work through his issues in his own time. And considering how absent Christopher had been in the weeks he’d been here already, he doubted their father would make an extra effort now just because Steele had arrived.
“Want to grab some room service?” With Steele showing up for moral support and a half-formed plan to win Chantal over buzzing through his brain, Zane found his appetite had returned.
Steele shook his head. “Jetlag’s catching up with me. Reckon I’ll call it a night.”
“Where are you staying?”
“Here, in one of the top suites.”
Zane rolled his eyes. “Figures. Nothing but the best.”
Steele glanced around the room. “I don’t see you slumming it.”
“That’s because I have people to impress.” The minute he’d made the joke, Zane wished he could take it back. Steele was smart and predictably latched onto what Zane hadn’t said.
“People? Or women?”
“Woman,” Zane hastened to clarify. He’d deserved Steele’s warnings over his womanizing the last few years. Wasn’t until Zane had told him to back off, he was dealing with the Christopher shit in his own way, did Steele get it. But Zane was done self-sabotaging and he needed his brother to know it.
“Just one? I’m impressed.”
“You will be when you meet her. She’s a knockout,” Zane said, strangely shy discussing Chantal with Steele, especially as they weren’t technically together.
“Let me guess. Blonde. Stacked. Curves. Legs up to her armpits.”
Zane glared at Steele, who laughed. “Hey, you’re nothing if not predictable.”
“Chantal’s different,” Zane said through gritted teeth, rattled by how much he wanted to find her right now and tell her his plans.
Steele whistled low. “Never seen you like this. You in love or something?”
The L word terrified Zane. He couldn’t love Chantal. It was too soon. They hadn’t known each other long. They couldn’t be together long term. They had different goals.
But for a fleeting moment, Zane wondered if that warm, secure feeling that seeped through him whenever he thought of Chantal was something resembling love.
“She’s special.” Zane made a grand show of looking at his watch. “And I need to see her first thing in the morning so why don’t you head off to your
top suite
and get some shut-eye.”
With a brief nod, Steele stood. “Okay, but I want to meet Miss Special.”
Zane had no intention of letting Steele anywhere near Chantal, not until he’d sorted out their differences.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Zane gave Steele a gentle shove in the direction of the door.
“Zane?”
“Hmm?”
“I’m glad I came.” Steele balked, spun on his heel and had Zane in a bear hug before he knew what was happening.
They rarely embraced—in fact, the last time was after their mum’s funeral three years ago—so to have Steele initiate the physical contact meant his brother was letting down his guard in a big way.
“I’m glad you did too,” Zane said, hugging him back before they quickly disengaged in that awkward, embarrassed way guys did after a hug.
“See you tomorrow.” Steele opened the door and paused. “If you’ve got a serious thing for this girl, you should go for it.”
Zane bit back a grin. What was it with his brothers and their agony aunt advice today?
“Go.” He shooed Steele away and shut the door, leaning against it while he pondered the wisdom of waiting until tomorrow to confront Chantal, or lobbing on her doorstep tonight.
The next morning, Zane had barely opened his eyes when the phone rang. Glancing at the caller ID, he sat up and hit the answer button, curious despite his resentment toward Christopher and his blasé attitude.
“Hope I didn’t wake you, Son.”
“No. What can I do for you?”
His father didn’t register his formal greeting and curt response, continuing as if he hadn’t spoken.
“It’s what I can do for you.” Christopher paused, as if about to divulge some big, bad secret. “The scouts and coaches were mighty impressed with you in LA. They’d like to give you a chance on the team. So how about you work for me while you’re the back-up kicker for the Owls?”
Zane hated how his pathetically needy side, desperate for his dad’s attention, made him want to thank Christopher profusely despite his shoddy treatment. “You’re offering me a job in your sporting goods company?”
“That’s the one,” Christopher said. “Whatever you want to do, I’ll create a position. PR. Sales. You name it, it’s yours.”
Bemused by Christopher’s offer, considering he’d blown him off at their last meeting by not turning up, Zane rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Yeah, like that would help clarify.
“Thanks, but I’m not staying in the States long term.”
Silence greeted his declaration and he felt compelled to fill it.
“Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate you setting up the tryout, but the NFL isn’t for me. I’m planning on staying for another month or so, spending some time with Chantal, then heading home.”
“You still with that tramp?” Christopher’s bark of laughter froze his blood. “She’ll drag you down, Son. Better to keep your distance, like I am with this sponsorship deal.”
Zane clutched the phone so tight he thought it’d snap, waves of anger washing over him, leaving him alternately cold and hot. “What do you mean?”
Christopher snorted. “She must’ve told you. As long as her strip joint is sponsoring the Nevada football league, I’m pulling out. No jerseys, no equipment, nada.”
Chantal had told him but he hadn’t thought it would go this far. From what he’d learned during his research of his father, Christopher was an astute businessman. To pass on a deal like this? He must really dislike Chantal. What he wanted to know was why.
“It’s not a strip club and she’s not a tramp,” Zane said, keeping a tight leash on his fury, his clipped tones conveying enough of his anger.
“Don’t defend her, not to me.” Christopher’s voice held an equal chill. “I don’t have the right to tell you what to do, kid, not after the way I’ve stuffed up over the years, but take it from me. Her kind is nothing but trouble.”
Zane didn’t want to listen to another second of his father’s prejudiced drivel. But he wanted to rattle him before he hung up.
“Steele’s in town. Came to meet Wyatt and Kurt.”
This time, Zane felt no compulsion to fill the silence. He wanted Christopher to absorb the implication behind what he’d said: or what he hadn’t said, more to the point.
Steele didn’t want to have anything to do with his own father.
Christopher cleared his throat. “I can be in Vegas next week if you boys want to get together—”
“Have to go. Bye.”
Zane’s satisfaction at hanging up so abruptly on his father faded fast. Last night, he’d told Steele he wanted to make a go of this, of trying to bond with his dad. Rejecting his tentative overtures wasn’t the way to go about it.
But Christopher had made him so fucking mad, trashing Chantal for no reason other than the business she ran. He may have slept around a lot the last few years but he’d hated when his teammates had done the same thing, tarnishing women with the hooker or slut tag, just because of where they worked or what they wore.
His mum had raised him to respect women and the fact Christopher didn’t extend that courtesy to Chantal, a woman he barely knew, really pissed him off.
As for Christopher’s job offer, the little boy deep inside who yearned for his father’s approval after all these years had been pleased. Christopher had wanted him to stick around enough to offer him a permanent job in his company, to keep him close.
But the realist in him knew that if Christopher’s flaky behavior over the last few weeks were any indication, he could never depend on his father for anything.
He wasn’t some idealistic kid who believed in myths and legends. He’d take Christopher on face value, get to know him better but that’s where it ended.
They’d never be close, not in the way Zane had craved, but when he headed back to Australia, he’d do it with a clear conscience that he’d given it his best shot.
For now, he had to see Chantal and tell her the news he was sticking around for a while. And hope to God she wanted to continue what they’d started.
Chantal heard the news the moment she sat at her desk.
Burlesque Bombshells was the number one sponsor of the new Australian football competition in Nevada.
Her marketing would be everywhere. Visible at the grounds, in the teams’ rooms, in the advertising. Massive promo for her club and a way for her to give something back, helping a fledgling business get off the ground. If anyone knew what that was like, she did.
As she scanned the email, listing other sponsors, detailing the money involved and a mega ad campaign, she searched for another name.
Harrison Sporting Goods was conspicuously absent.
“Fuck him,” she muttered, annoyed that she felt rejected all over again, and that she let the bigoted old fool get to her this much.
A knock sounded at her door and she flicked from her inbox to the home screen. Wyatt wasn’t due in today and she’d told her PA she didn’t want to be disturbed. In the mood she was in, whoever dared enter this office would be leaving pronto.
“Come in.” She stood and stepped around the desk, ready to give whoever it was their marching orders.
But as Zane stepped into her office and closed the door, looking incredibly delectable in faded denim that hugged all the right places and a green polo that matched the flecks in his hazel eyes, all the fight drained out of her.
They couldn’t be together but God, she’d missed him.
“What are you doing here?” She propped against her desk, willing him to leave, wishing he wouldn’t.
“We need to talk.”
“Thought we already did.”
“I didn’t like what you had to say.” He stalked toward her and she realized her mistake too late. If she’d stayed behind her desk, she would’ve had something solid between them, a tangible barrier. Now, she was exposed, vulnerable. Within touching distance.
“As I recall, you did all the talking last time.” He stopped two feet away. So close. Not close enough. “Now it’s time you heard me out.”
“There’s nothing you can say that will change my mind.”
Her body quivered in remembrance of how good it had been with him and having him this close she could smell him, that uniquely powerful combination of pheromones, crisp citrus and pure Zane. She gripped the edge of the desk to support her suddenly weak legs.
“I think there is.” He reached out to touch her cheek and she jerked back. Her stupid resistance was wavering and if he got any closer she’d be in serious danger of falling at his feet.