The Complete Red-Hot Collection. Kelly Hunter
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quick succession and didn’t slow as she raced towards her car.
‘Call me when you find him!’ Frances called out.
‘I will.’
She slammed the door too hard in her haste, the sound ringing out like a shot. Was she doing this?
Chantal bit down on her lip and looked at her mobile phone in its holder on the inside of her windscreen. There was one person who could help her. She had no idea if his number was still the same, or if he would protect Brodie rather than talk to her. But she had to try.
As she paused for a red light Chantal tapped the screen and dialled a number.
‘Hello?’ Scott’s voice echoed through the car.
‘Scott, it’s Chantal. I’m hoping you can help me…’
Brodie stood in the helm, staring blankly out at the harbour. The moored boats were lined up in tidy rows, the Princess 56 blending into the Sydney scene better than it had in Newcastle. He couldn’t be anywhere on the boat without remembering Chantal.
Was she back in the city by now? Doubt rooted him to the deck. Not because he didn’t believe in his feelings for her, but because he had no idea if she would ever reciprocate. He couldn’t remember a time when a girl had left him so strung out… except for the Weeping Reef situation with Chantal the first time around.
Chantal: two. Brodie: zero.
Giggling came from a couple walking past the boat—the sound of two people in love. He looked away, focusing on the dials in the cockpit. He knew he should sail home, but something had stopped him from preparing the yacht. The beautiful views and the freedom of sailing felt wasted without Chantal. No matter how opulent the scenery, it was marked by her absence.
He turned his phone over in his hands. He could call her, invite her for a drink. Apologise for pushing too hard. Then what?
Those three little words hung over him like a dead weight. Three. Little. Words.
They changed everything. He’d never loved any woman before—he hadn’t thought he had any love left over after his family had taken their share. But she seemed to pull emotion from him that he’d never even known existed. It had forced him to do things he’d never thought he could… like confront his father.
The Princess 56 was waiting for him, ready and willing. It sat there patiently, needing him only to make a decision. He could either find out where Chantal was or he could sail home.
No, he wasn’t going home without her.
Scott was right—he had to try again. He had to be sure there wasn’t a chance for them. His attraction to her had always been more than he’d admitted. More than her gorgeous legs, her dancing, the sex. It was something so frighteningly intense and real that he’d been unable to process it until it was too late.
Brodie was about to pick up his phone to dial her number when it buzzed. Lydia’s smiling face flashed up on the screen.
‘Hey, Lyds.’
‘Hey, Brodie.’ There was hesitation in his sister’s voice. ‘So… Dad called.’
‘He did?’ Something lifted in Brodie’s chest. His father had ended their call earlier with a promise to get in touch with the girls more often, though Brodie still had his doubts. ‘What did he say?’
‘He’s coming to visit,’ Lydia replied. ‘Well, he says that, but we’ll see.’
‘Would you like him to visit?’
‘Yeah, I guess.’ She hesitated. ‘It would be good to see him.’
He sincerely hoped his father lived up to his promise. He’d got a sense that his father’s attitude had changed—there’d seemed to be something more receptive about him that had been lacking in the past. Something down in his gut told him that their conversation had been a shifting point for the older man—a reality check that his family needed him. That his daughters needed him.
Brodie could get by on his own, but he had plans to make Chantal a part of his life more permanently—and that meant he couldn’t always play the role of pseudo father. The girls needed to know they could rely on their real father as well. Hopefully this was the beginning of all that.
Lydia caught his attention by launching into a new problem—something to do with Ellen and how she was trying to mother her, even though she was the youngest sibling. But Brodie was no longer listening.
A figure hovered nearby on the jetty. Long legs, long dark hair.
Chantal.
‘Brodie, are you listening to me?’
Lydia’s indignant tone brought his attention back to the call. ‘Sorry, Lyds. I have to go.’
He stepped out onto the upper deck and tried to get a better look at the figure. Was it really her?
‘But I need your help.’ His sister sounded as though she were about to cry. ‘That’s why I called you.’
‘I’ll help you. But I need to do something for me first.’
She sniffled. ‘What’s more important than talking to your sister?’
He jogged over to the stairs, taking them as quickly as his legs would allow. ‘Love.’
‘Is this about that girl?’ Lydia asked, her voice returning to normal.
‘It is.’
‘You love her?’
‘I do, Lyds. I’m going to ask her if she loves me back.’
‘Dibs on being the maid of honour,’ Lydia said. ‘Call me later. Tell me everything.’
‘I promise.’
Brodie rushed to the jetty and looked around. Late afternoon had given way to early evening and the sun was lowering itself into the water along the horizon. Autumn had started weeks ago but it had only now taken on its first chill of the year, and the cool air prickled his exposed forearms.
People milled about, stopping to take photos of the yachts. Dodging a father towing two small children, Brodie jogged to where he’d seen the figure standing. He couldn’t locate Chantal amongst the swarming tourist crowd.
The girl with dark hair had disappeared—had it even been her?
He walked up past the yacht club entrance, past the other boats, until he neared the hotel that sprawled along the water’s edge.
He was going crazy. His imagination was playing him for a fool. Why would she come to him when he’d stuffed things up? He hadn’t even been able to tell her that he loved her. She deserved better than that.
He headed back to the boat, turning his phone over in his hands. His thumb hovered over the unlock button, ready to dial her number. As he walked across the boarding ramp and raked a hand through his hair he stopped to rub the tense muscles in his neck.
‘Brodie?’
Chantal walked out from the cabin, hands knotted in front of her. Long dark strands tumbled around her shoulders, the messy waves scattered by the gentle breeze. A skirt with blue and green shades bleeding into one another swirled around her ankles with each step. A long gold chain weighted by a blue stone glinted around her neck. She looked like a mermaid… a siren. A fantasy.
‘What are you doing here?’ he asked, his heart hammering against his ribs.
‘I thought you’d gone back to Queensland.’
She bundled her hair over one shoulder, toying with the ends as he’d noticed her doing whenever she was anxious. He noticed everything about her now.
‘I was supposed to.’
‘Why did you stay?’
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