Chapter 19

19

B rock had been relieved when Jayda suggested they meet at a restaurant to discuss her IT problems.

Until he walked in and saw some sleazy prick touching her, and by how close they were standing before the jerk folded her into his arms, she liked it.

An all-consuming, insidious jealousy made his fingers curl into his palms as he watched the woman he cared about being held by a creep with greasy, slicked-back hair.

He mentally counted to ten before he did something stupid, like cross the few feet separating him and them, wrench them apart, and punch the guy.

He’d experienced jealousy before. Growing up, he’d always wrestled with the green-eyed monster when the wealthy kids around him had had the latest video-game consoles, the high-end sneakers, the overseas holidays. He’d had to make do with a secondhand PC he’d repaired himself for games, old sneakers that had pinched his feet when he’d outgrown them, and a yearly weekend to bayside Rosebud if he was lucky.

But that yearning to have what other kids had was nothing on this out-of-control feeling now.

Thankfully, Jayda and the sleaze pulled apart and he had to watch the slimeball kiss Jayda before walking straight past him. The sleaze stank too, his overpowering aftershave making Brock want to wave his hand in front of his nose. Yeah, more petty jealousy, and he’d better get it under control before he confronted Jayda.

But she turned at that moment and spotted him, leaving him little time to wipe the bitterness off his face. Busted.

Her eyes widened in surprise before a disapproving frown dented her brows. What did she have to be annoyed about? He was the one who’d witnessed some guy pawing her.

Then again, he had no dibs on her. They might’ve laid out plans for a short fling but stupidly, he hadn’t insisted on monogamy. He’d assumed it, and felt like a prize ass because if Jayda was sleeping around… As soon as the thought popped into his head he wanted to hit it against the nearest brick wall to knock some sense into him.

If he was the first guy she’d slept with in six years, what were the odds of her fucking two guys at once? Non-existent, because he knew she wasn’t that kind of girl. It was his stupid jealousy making him jump to ridiculous conclusions and he’d better get it under control, right now.

Crossing the short distance between them, he touched her arm. ‘Thanks for meeting me tonight.’

‘It sounded important, so I didn’t want to wait until tomorrow.’ She gestured at the nearby bar, a polished chrome that ran the length of the restaurant. ‘Want a drink?’

He glanced at her flushed face and her sparkling eyes. ‘You sure you want more?’

She bristled and he hated himself for the jibe. ‘Not that it’s any of your business, but I had dinner with an old friend I’ve known since we were kids. We had the degustation with accompanying wines so maybe I’ve had two glasses more than I usually would, but I’d appreciate it if you refrained from chastising me like a child.’

So much for keeping his jealousy under control, but he didn’t apologise. Not when it annoyed the crap out of him that she’d sat here for hours with that prick, old friend or not.

‘After you.’ He stepped back and gestured towards the bar, gritting his teeth against the urge to touch her.

She looked incredible in a form-fitting purple dress that outlined every inch of the rocking body he’d explored in intimate detail. He noticed her makeup looked different too, sexier than usual, when he’d first seen her close up. She looked amazing and he didn’t blame that prick for drooling over her.

He’d seen the disappointment in the dickhead’s eyes when he’d walked past. The guy had put the moves on her and she’d knocked him back. The thought should’ve buoyed him. It didn’t, because the moment he’d seen that guy next to Jayda and felt it like a kick in the guts, he’d known he was in trouble.

Any kind of pretence that she didn’t matter to him, that he’d walk away unscathed at the end of this short-term fling, had just been blown sky-high by the potency of his jealousy.

He wouldn’t feel this shitty if he didn’t care.

The possessiveness that gripped him when he’d seen her with that prick… he had no right to feel this way. But now that he’d acknowledged it, albeit to himself, he couldn’t pretend this feeling didn’t exist. It did and he needed to do something about it before he trod down the path to a co-dependent relationship he’d never wanted.

He wasn’t a complete idiot. He knew not every relationship mimicked his folks’ or those of his mates, whose wives carried their balls around in their hip pockets. But for every relationship that had a fighting chance there were nine bad ones and those odds weren’t for him. A ten per cent shot at happiness? No fucking way.

The possessiveness rattled him too because witnessing his parents’ odd marriage, the way his dad treated his mother like a chattel sometimes, ensured he never wanted to view a woman in the same way. Yet that was exactly what he felt when he saw Jayda with that dickhead, as if he wanted to stride over, drape his arm across her shoulders, and brand her as his.

Not good.

When they reached the bar, she perched on a stool, the simple action drawing the clingy material of her dress taut across her thighs. Brock stared, unable to look away, remembering prying them apart, licking his way up them, before reaching heaven…

‘Do you want something to drink?’

Her brusque tone snapped him back to the present and he met her eyes, not surprised when she glared at him in disapproval. Usually she loved when he checked her out, but considering the way he’d left her place last night he guessed she was pissed.

He’d been reeling after revealing too much of himself. Fuck, he’d told her about being poor and his scholarships, about his folks, about the car yard… He’d overshared, resulting in a gut-churning regret that he couldn’t shake.

One minute they’d been fucking, the next he’d woken up in her cosy bedroom and wanted to make a run for it. Wandering around her place hadn’t helped. She’d created a home, a warm, welcoming haven that any guy would love to share with her.

Any guy except him, no matter how much he secretly wished otherwise.

He’d deliberately pushed her away citing work on her software and she’d called him on it. He loved her assertiveness and he deserved her ire, but he’d seen the hurt in her eyes. He recognised it because he’d felt the same way every time he’d approached his dad to ask him to take him to the park to kick the footy, only to be snapped at that he was busy. Or the times he’d ask his mother to read to him, only to be told she had to do accounts for his father and was too tired after it.

How had they not seen that their crappy marriage affected him too?

He’d been four when he first sensed something wasn’t right between his parents. Dad had come home from a long day at the yard and sat in his armchair in front of the TV as usual, not lifting a finger to help his mum, who’d worked all day too. She’d dished up a quick dinner, frozen pizza with a salad on the side, one of his favourites. His father had taken one look at the limp pizza and declared, ‘I’m not eating that shit.’ His mum had fled to the bathroom and closed the door but he’d heard her muffled crying.

He’d given her an extra squishy hug when she’d come out ten minutes later, red-eyed, and ignored his dad for the rest of the evening. Not that George noticed. He’d barely spoken two words to Brock when he got home after work.

After that incident, Brock had become more observant, watching for the slightest sign of tension between his parents. There had been many, and it worsened as he grew older. Maybe the years together lowered their respect threshold because by the time he’d hit his early teens his parents’ open hostility had made him retreat to his room the second he got home and only come out for dinner, a sad affair filled with awkward silences and irrelevant small talk.

‘I asked if you wanted something to drink.’ Jayda snapped her fingers in front of his face and Brock shook his head, momentarily off-kilter from painful memories.

‘No, thanks.’

‘Fine, then, I’ll drink on my own.’ Her lips compressed into a thin line, her shoulders rigid, as if she couldn’t stand to be near him. ‘I feel like the biggest, fruitiest cocktail on the menu.’

Considering her eyes glowed too brightly and her cheeks were flushed, that wasn’t the best idea. But he’d already sounded like a fuddy-duddy by verbalising his disapproval for her having more to drink so this time he held his tongue.

She stared at him, one eyebrow raised, silently taunting him to say something, and when he remained mute some of her tension dissolved. When the barman approached she placed an order for a sparkling mineral water with a slice of lemon instead.

‘I’m not drunk, if that’s what you think,’ she flung at him in defiance, tilting her chin as if daring him to disagree.

‘I don’t think anything, other than your date had better not take a dip in Port Phillip Bay because with all that grease in his hair he’d cause an oil slick.’

The corners of her mouth twitched and her eyes sparkled with amusement. ‘Ky’s a good guy—’

‘Ky’s an asshole who wanted to get into your panties.’ His response came out a growl, but rather than chastise him as he expected, she surprised him by nodding.

‘Why do guys always disappoint me?’

Considering he was one of those guys, he felt like the biggest bastard in the world. So he settled for saying, ‘What happened?’

‘I’ve known him since we were kids and we always had fun hanging out.’ She sighed, and wrinkled her nose in distaste. ‘My folks and his were besties, and we moved in posh circles, but Ky and I weren’t into all that fake BS. So we had that in common too. Anyway, he lives in Sydney so when he asked me to have dinner I thought it was a chance to catch up.’

The barman placed her sparkling water in front of her and she smiled her thanks before turning her attention back to him. ‘I’ve never felt a flirty vibe off him and he’s been in a three-year relationship with a woman who looks like a Swedish supermodel, but tonight…’ The crinkle on the bridge of her nose deepened. ‘They broke up and he asked me for a nightcap in his hotel room—’

‘Sleazy prick.’

Her eyes flashed fire. ‘I handled it. But it sucks that we’ll never be able to go back to that old friendship because I’ll always wonder if he has an ulterior motive.’

Brock wanted to say that most guys had an ulterior motive and when it came to a gorgeous woman with a rocking bod like Jayda, that motive was getting pussy.

But he settled for, ‘At least the guy has great taste.’

Her lips compressed again but this time he could tell she stifled a laugh.

‘And for the record, I would’ve beaten him to a pulp if he tried anything beyond a hug.’

‘I don’t need your protection,’ she said, eyeballing him with a direct stare that dared him to disagree. ‘I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time.’

He had too and that was how he knew that beneath her bravado lurked that same uncertain girl who’d learned to hide her vulnerabilities well. He knew because he did the same every damn day.

Having more than six zeroes tacked onto the end of his bank balance, a fancy penthouse, designer clothes, and the latest high-tech equipment to make any geek drool didn’t account for much when he lay awake at night, hating the inherent loneliness that plagued him, and cursing his parents for instilling in him a complete lack of faith in anything lasting.

‘You’re a fraud, just like me.’ The truth tumbled from his lips and he muttered, ‘Fuck,’ as she reared back as if he’d poked her.

He needed to remedy this situation, and change the subject fast. ‘While I’m wrestling the glitch in your software under control, I need your help with a function organised by my dad, some annual car sales award thing. Because he’s laid up in bed he needs me to do some last-minute finagling, party planning mostly, and I remember you mentioning you’ve done stuff like that for your folks?’

Her eyebrows rose in blatant scepticism, as if she didn’t buy his change of subject at all, so he quickly continued. ‘If it were up to me I wouldn’t go, let alone help organise the bloody thing, but he’s never asked me for a favour before and I couldn’t say no.’

When she continued to eyeball him, her lips compressed into a thin line, he said, ‘Will you help me put the finishing touches on this function and save my ass in the process?’

After a long, drawn-out silence that made sweat bead on his upper lip, she nodded. ‘Sure, I’ll do it. When is it?’

‘Next Friday night.’

He waited while she swiped up the calendar on her phone and when her lips eased into a soft smile, he didn’t know whether to curse or be relieved that he’d have her helping him with what promised to be an awful event.

‘I’m free, and I can slot in some time during the week to make phone calls and check on florists, caterers, that kind of thing.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘I’ve done it many times before.’

‘Good,’ he said, resisting the urge to squirm as she pinned him with that astute stare again. ‘I’ll get all the details and email them to you. I’ll be the main contact person so if there’s any problems let me know.’

‘Fine.’ She sipped her drink, continuing to appraise him with blatant curiosity. ‘What’s the problem with my software?’

Relieved she hadn’t delved further into his ‘fraud’ comment, he launched into a basic explanation of some of the flaws he’d detected and the fixes he intended on installing. She listened with rapt attention and he found himself relaxing as he waxed lyrical about the one thing in this world he had complete control over.

She asked all the right questions and as he reassured her he’d have everything fixed his phone pinged with a message from another client.

‘Sorry, I have to go. There’s a malware threat to one of my biggest software clients.’

‘No worries.’

They stood simultaneously and an awkward silence descended. Brock didn’t know whether to kiss her goodbye, hug her, or offer to drop by her place later.

Thankfully, she took the decision out of his hands by touching him on the arm, her hand lingering on his biceps. ‘Send me through the details for the function and I’ll take care of everything.’

When she released him and stepped away, he instantly wished he wasn’t such a fuck-up when it came to this special woman.

She’d taken a few steps away before she paused, and turned to glance over her shoulder at him. ‘For what it’s worth, it’s not fraud if the feelings are real.’

With that she sauntered away, leaving him reeling and resisting the urge to run after her to discover what she meant by that cryptic comment.