In His Good Hands (14 page)

Brett turned on a lamp. A soft golden glow illuminated a spacious room containing a king-size bed, a couple of club chairs, a small coffee table and a writing desk.

“You’ve got enough room to swing a kangaroo in here,” Renita said, padding across the plush champagne carpet. “You need more furniture. Plants. Something.”

Brett flung his jacket over one of the club chairs. “Would you like a drink?”

Nervous, she spun away from him.

Floor-to-ceiling windows and sliding glass doors ran the length of the house, overlooking the bay. She pushed open a door and went through it onto the balcony. The lights of Melbourne and the seaside suburbs twinkled around the long sweeping curve of the bay.

Brett came outside and put his arms around her waist from behind. His voice rumbled next to her ear as he said, “Don’t be nervous.”

Renita turned in his arms to face him. “I’m not sure I’m ready for this. I’m not sure
we’re
ready.”

He didn’t argue. Instead, he drew her back inside the room and led her in a box step, humming the tune they’d danced to earlier.

Gradually his feet slowed. He brushed her mouth with kisses that tantalized and teased her. Her heart thumping, she undid the top buttons of his shirt and slid a hand inside. His skin was warm from the summer evening and the dancing. A scattering of blond chest hair glinted in the glow of the bedside lamp as she ran her fingers over his muscular chest. This was Brett she was touching.

He removed his shirt then undid the catch on the halter. The top slid down, baring her breasts. He released his breath in a soft sigh that raised goose bumps and puckered her nipples.

Then his hands and mouth seemed to be everywhere at once. He captured a nipple between his teeth with a delicate pressure that brought her up on her toes, then tickled and sucked till her knees went weak from the pulling sensation inside her.

With her fingers she traced the hard, defined muscles of his arms. His skin was hot, burning up. Their breathing quickened as they loosened the rest of their clothes and dropped them to the floor in a tangle. Naked bodies bumped, pressed, twined.

Holding her gaze again, Brett danced her over to the bed, making her laugh with a giddy exhilaration. The backs of her legs hit the mattress and she sat abruptly, pulling him down on top of her.

Her laughter faded as she acknowledged that her body was still soft and plump despite the hours of running and gym work. In comparison, his body was unbelievably hard, and scarred from football.

He rolled, taking her with him so they lay on their sides, facing each other. “What is it? What are you thinking?”

Stretching out a finger, she traced the sharp angle at the corner of his mouth. “Would you—” Her voice cracked and she had to take a deep breath and begin again. “Would you have invited me into your bed if I hadn’t lost weight, ditched the glasses and glammed up?”

He didn’t speak for what seemed like ages. Finally he looked her in the eye and said with devastating honesty, “Probably not.”

His reply caused an actual physical pain in her chest. Well, she’d asked for it. “You’re being truthful. I appreciate that.”

“I’m not used to being turned down,” he added. “I don’t take rejection well.”

She blinked, confused. “I don’t understand. Why do you think
I’d
have rejected
you?
”

“That first day in your office, you wouldn’t talk about anything personal. No matter how hard I tried, you didn’t want to admit that we’d been friends. If I’d come on to you, how do you think that would have turned out? You wouldn’t have believed I was sincere, not for a second.”

She thought about that. “You’ve got a point, I suppose.”

“I didn’t used to think you were attractive,” he admitted. “Maybe I asked you out because of the way you look now. Maybe it’s also because I’ve gotten to know you better. You’ve changed in other ways, too. Confidence is just as attractive as beauty.”

Renita considered that. In a way, he was paying her a compliment in not flattering her falsely.

“Roll over,” he said, having Renita face the reflection of the two of them in the wardrobe mirrors. “What do you see?”

Herself lying in front of him, naked and vulnerable. She was so used to being critical of her body. She tried to look past that and see herself objectively. She was red-cheeked, all curves. “I think I’m sexy.”

His voice vibrated next to her ear. “I do, too.”

His long fingers traveled the swell of her hip, dipped to her waist and slid up to cup her breast. Slowly he began to massage her, squeezing her nipple lightly between his fingers. She could feel the rasp of his jaw on her cheek and the hard jut of his erection against her butt.

He nudged his penis between her legs, pushing in, then easing out, teasing her, the delicious friction releasing a flood of moisture. Renita couldn’t tear her eyes away from the sight of him touching her. Squeezing her nipples, drifting lower to the juncture of her thighs and stroking her—building an aching hollow inside that she longed to have him fill.

Now fully aroused, she turned away from the mirror toward Brett. She lifted her mouth to his, her throat thick with emotion. Rolling over, she grabbed his hips and, as he thrust into her, her anxieties evaporated in the heat of his gaze.

Grinning, he put the container in the microwave.

“Dancing,”
she said, blushing. She lounged against the opposite counter of the U-shaped kitchen, looking cute in his bathrobe, her brown hair tousled.

While the food heated she chatted about the evening—the teachers, teenage fashion, music. She seemed more relaxed than usual, as if she finally trusted him.

Amber or any of the other footy groupies would have taken it for granted that they were hot. After years of shallow relationships, women with fake boobs, false eyelashes, phony tans, hair extensions, acrylic nails, Botox to their foreheads, collagen-injected lips…he was exhausted. In contrast, Renita’s unadorned natural beauty was—

“…Olly seems to like Tegan as much as she likes him.”

That brought Brett to the present. “What do you know about him? This is the first boy Tegan’s shown an interest in.”

“He’s Dr. Sienna Maxwell’s son, soon to be my brother Jack’s stepson,” Renita explained. “Oliver’s a good kid. Smart, polite, nice. Tegan could do a lot worse.”

“She’s only thirteen,” Brett said, taking hold of Renita’s lapels and running his thumbs over the rough nap of the navy terry cloth robe.

“I’m sure it’s innocent.”

“It better be.” He pulled her close for a lingering kiss.

The microwave beeped. Brett brought out the food, dividing it onto two plates. “Can you eat this much?”

“Oh, yes. I didn’t have dinner.”

“Really? Why not?” He carried the plates across the open plan kitchen/family room to the round glass table in the breakfast nook.

“I had a date with Brett O’Connor,” Renita said, pulling out a wicker chair to sit. “I was way too nervous to eat.”

Brett went back to the kitchen for glasses of water. “I hope he lived up to your expectations.”

“Not bad.” Grinning, she twirled her fork into the pasta.

He pretended to wince. “I thought for once you’d give me a good score.”

Brett carried their drinks down on the table, then went back to the counter for his cell phone. “Go ahead and start. I should check my voice mail in case Tegan had any problems.”

He clicked a few buttons and sure enough there was a message. But it wasn’t from Tegan. It was from Simon Toltz. “Excuse me,” he said to Renita and walked away a few paces to listen.

Bad news,
Simon had said.
The deal has fallen through. Back to square one. Not to worry. I’ve already put more feelers out.

Not to worry? Brett had ordered the equipment and paid a thirty thousand dollar deposit!

“Is it Tegan?” Renita asked. “You’ve gone pale.”

“No, it’s not Tegan.” He turned the phone off. Sitting back down at the table, he pushed his plate away. He hadn’t just lost his appetite, he felt sick. “The sale of my Brownlow Medal fell through.”

Renita stopped twirling pasta and dropped her fork on the plate. “Oh, my God.” She stared at him. “The equipment you ordered.”

He nodded, still stunned.

“Can you return it?”

“I don’t know.” He speared his hands through his hair, unable to think.

“Why couldn’t you have waited until you actually had the money in hand before you placed your order?” Renita pushed away her unfinished plate of food.

“Easy to say in hindsight.”

“
No.
It’s obviously the most sensible course of action.” She frowned, thinking a moment. “I’ll lend you the money.”

“You mean, a bank loan?” he asked, hope rising.

“No, a personal loan. From me.” She seemed eager to help. “I could take out a second mortgage on my house—”

“Out of the question.” Brett slapped a hand on the table. He got to his feet and pushed his chair back. “I can’t take that kind of money from you.”

“Why not, if we’re…” She trailed off uncertainly.

“Because it would taint our relationship.” Hell, they’d only slept together once. “I would look like an opportunistic sleaze.”

She stared at him then said slowly, “Only if you knew about the offer falling through before you asked me to stay overnight.”

He stared back at her, hard. Could she really think that of him? “You saw me take the message just now.”

Renita picked up a fork. Dropped it again. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” There was the slightest edge to her voice.

“
Thank
you, though,” he said. “It’s a generous offer. But you’ve clearly made it without thinking.”

“Sure.” With a soft sigh, she rose. “I’d better go.”

“Now?” He glanced at the clock. “It’s nearly one in the morning. I assumed you would stay—”

“Brett, come on,” she said. “After the conversation we just had, can you honestly see us going back to bed together?”

He opened his mouth to disagree but then his shoulders slumped. She was right.

Brett was ready to tear his hair out by the roots. “What about the next bidder? Can you call him and see if he’s still interested?”

“I already have. When your medal went off the market he invested in a pine plantation. The next one below that was prepared to bid only $100,000.”

“That’s not enough,” Brett said.

“I presumed not, so I didn’t contact him. I am, however, making another round of inquiries.”

“Okay.” He sighed. “Let me know if anything happens.”

First thing Monday morning Brett called the sporting goods company in Perth he’d ordered from, and asked to speak to someone in accounts. He was put through to Rick, a young man who, judging by his nasal voice, had a summer cold.

“Brett O’Connor here,” he said. “I ordered some gym equipment last week.”

“I remember,” Rick said. “Biggest order I’ve taken, and I’ve worked here for nearly six years. You should have seen the office when we got your email. Everyone running around, checking stock, figuring out if we could fill it. It was a red letter day at West Coast Sports, let me tell you.” He sniffed. “What can I do for you?”

“I’d like to cancel the order.”

Silence. “You…want to
cancel
the order?”

“Correct.”

“Hold on, let me check your account.” Rick coughed and sneezed, and in the background Brett heard computer keys. “Say, are you
the
Brett O’Connor, the football player?”

“Yep. So can I cancel?”

“We don’t have a returns policy,” Rick said. More clicking in the background. “You would lose your deposit.”

Brett rubbed his hand along his jaw. He couldn’t afford to do that. “Can you delay the order, or send it out in smaller installments?”

“Nope.” Rick blew his nose.

“I’ve run into a cash flow problem,” Brett explained. “I want the equipment, just not all at once.”

“I understand. Trouble is, the order has already been shipped.”

“Oh, no.” Brett covered his face with his hand.

“You asked us to expedite it. It’s on its way by truck. Should get to Melbourne the day after tomorrow, cash on delivery.”

“You can’t recall it?”

“Afraid not.” Rick sniffed.

“I can’t pay for it,” Brett said bluntly. “Not right away.”

Another silence. “Let me talk to my manager. Can you hold?”

Brett paced the kitchen while he waited. He glanced at his watch. He should be at the gym right now. And he’d planned to stop by Steve’s house to check on him. Although he didn’t know why he bothered sometimes. The man didn’t seem to appreciate his efforts. If it wasn’t for Renita—

“Brett, you there?” Rick said. “My manager says that since you’ve paid a deposit—and frankly, since you’re Brett O’Connor—he’ll waive the requirement for cash on delivery. But you’ll need to make an installment within fifteen days, with the balance due in thirty. And there’ll be interest charged for every day over the delivery date.”

The terms were tough, but they gave him breathing space. “Thanks, Rick. That’s a load off my mind.”

“I’m a big fan of yours. And so is my boss,” Rick said with a wheezing cough. “I doubt he’d do that for just anyone.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence.” Brett paused. “Hypothetically speaking, what would happen if the fifteen days were up and I couldn’t pay the installment?”

“The order would be repossessed, you’d lose your deposit and have to pay shipping costs.”

Spelling the end of the Brett O’Connor Fitness Center.

“Is that likely to happen?” Rick sounded worried.

“No, not a problem,” Brett said heartily. “I’ll have the money.”