Chapter 20

20

J ayda waited by the floor-to-ceiling window in Brock’s ultra-modern office while he finished up a conference call. He’d beckoned her in ten minutes ago, citing that he’d be off in two. But she didn’t begrudge him making her wait. It gave her time to study him in his element.

He sat behind a glass-topped desk sporting five different computer screens, and a complicated keyboard that looked as if it could control satellites in space. The desk dominated the massive room that took up half a floor in one of Melbourne’s premier office suites in upmarket Collins Street, not far from his penthouse. All sleek chrome furniture and black stone floors, the office exuded professionalism and success. And the owner of this IT giant sat in the middle, incredibly delectable in a suit.

She’d stopped by to pick up her ticket for the awards ceremony tonight and to give him a last-minute rundown of everything she’d done to ensure the event went smoothly. Not that she’d had a lot to do over the last week, mainly follow up calls and chase down elusive caterers, but Brock had asked this favour of her and she’d wanted to ensure she did a stellar job.

There’d been a downside to her agreeing to help him. She hadn’t seen him at all, what with getting her business off the ground and overseeing the planning for the awards night. They’d talked several times, brief, business-focussed calls that left her wondering if she’d imagined the night he’d finally opened up and told her about his family.

As for their proposed two-week fling, getting physical with the sexy geek had fallen by the wayside too, courtesy of their manic workloads. She initially resented it and wondered if he’d asked her to help with the awards night as a way of pushing her away. But during those calls when they’d discussed their respective progress, she’d heard a hint of something in his tone, the odd flyaway comment that alerted her to the fact he was just as frustrated as her with their lack of physical intimacy.

She had grand plans to remedy that tonight after the formalities were over.

‘Sorry about that, the call went longer than anticipated.’ He grimaced and stood, interlocking fingers and stretching overhead, making his shirt ride up and gape, revealing a tantalising sliver of tanned abs she’d explored in great detail with her mouth.

‘No worries.’ Heat suffused her cheeks and she forced a smile, hoping they weren’t a giveaway to her licentious thoughts. ‘I wanted to let you know everything is set for tonight, down to the last detail.’

The dent between his brows that had been present during the phone conference disappeared as he rounded his desk and advanced upon her. ‘I can’t thank you enough for doing this.’

‘It was nothing…’ Her breath ended on a hitch as he stepped in close, slid his arms around her waist, and brushed a kiss across her lips.

‘What was that for?’ she whispered, swaying towards him involuntarily.

‘For being you.’

He pressed his lips against hers again, more demanding this time, and the greedy yearning that had built over the last week from their non-contact exploded into a storm of fire and heat.

Her fingers scrabbled at his shirt for purchase as he deepened the kiss, his tongue plunging into her mouth with precision and familiarity. Possessive. Taking control. Showing her exactly how much he’d missed her too.

She didn’t care about the makeup that had taken an hour to apply. She didn’t care about the artfully arranged up-do that had taken as long. She cared about tearing the suit off his body, hiking up her cocktail dress, and straddling him on the desk.

As his mouth trailed from her mouth to her neck, she became aware of an odd beeping, insistent and relentless.

‘Fuck,’ Brock muttered, straightening but holding onto her waist, giving her time to regain her wits. ‘I have to go.’

Disappointment doused her like a bucket of iced water, sending a chill sweeping through her. Of course he’d instigate a stupendous kiss then withdraw completely.

Cursing under his breath, he strode to his desk and picked up his phone, stabbing at the screen to silence the alarm. ‘I need to pop in to the hospital to pick up the tickets for tonight.’

His scowl did little to detract from his good looks. ‘Mum was supposed to courier them over but she forgot and she’s visiting Dad tonight so asked me to swing by.’

Annoyed he hadn’t told her this earlier so she needn’t have popped in and could’ve gone directly to the function centre, she struggled not to hide her frown. It baffled her why she needed a ticket in the first place considering she’d been the primary organiser of this event for the last week, but Brock had insisted that the best way to keep an eye on proceedings was as a guest, not just standing in the foyer.

‘Shall I meet you at the venue after you pick up the tickets?’

Panic flared in his eyes before he blinked, making her wonder if she’d imagined it. ‘No. Now that you’re here, we can go together.’

His audible reluctance made it sound as if she’d be accompanying him to a full body wax session.

‘Okay.’

He hesitated, as if second-guessing the wisdom of asking her to accompany him, but she wouldn’t make it easy for him.

‘Ready to go?’

‘Ready as I’ll ever be,’ he muttered, sliding a finger between his collar and his neck. ‘Seriously, Jayda, thanks for helping me out with this. It’s bad enough I agreed to attend as Dad’s proxy but being asked to help organise it threw me, and you really came through in a big way.’

She flushed under his admiration. ‘It was nothing. I’ve organised countless events like this for my folks.’

At least for this one the attendees wouldn’t be fleeced for personal gain.

‘Shall we go?’ He held out his hand and she slid hers into his as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

He interlaced his fingers through hers and squeezed, ducking down to murmur in her ear, ‘You look beautiful and I’m sorry it took me this long to say it.’

Hating the lump of emotion that swelled in her throat, she swallowed and aimed for flippant. ‘I’ll make you pay later by insisting you dance with me.’

‘Like hell,’ he said, his laughter warming her.

Tonight would be okay. She would get through this, and later, the two of them could get back to having fun under their original agreement: a short-term fling with no complications.

Jayda’s initial irritation at Brock not giving her a heads-up about having to pick up the tickets faded when they reached the hospital and she realised she had a golden opportunity to learn more about this enigmatic man.

She could meet his parents.

‘If I could avoid this, I would,’ he muttered, his expression tortured as they paused outside his father’s hospital door. ‘You didn’t have to come in—’

She laid a fingertip to his lips. ‘I don’t mind.’

‘But I do,’ he said, anger lighting his eyes. ‘You should’ve waited in the car like I suggested.’

‘And miss the opportunity of watching you squirm?’ She cocked a hip in provocation. ‘Are you crazy?’

The tension lines bracketing his mouth eased. ‘This isn’t funny. You don’t know what they’re like.’

‘Yet I’m about to find out.’ She slipped her hand into his, surprised to find his sweaty. ‘Considering what my folks have been up to, yours can’t be any worse.’

She heard his murmured, ‘Want to make a bet?’ before he knocked twice and opened the door.

Resisting the urge to smooth her black satin cocktail dress, she squeezed Brock’s hand in silent support and entered the room a step behind him.

‘Mum, Dad, this is Jayda. She helped me out by putting the finishing touches on the awards night and arranging everything.’

A sliver of hurt lodged beneath her bright smile. Of course he didn’t introduce her as his girlfriend, because she wasn’t, and he certainly couldn’t label her his short-term fuck buddy. Being introduced should be enough because regardless of what happened when this fling petered out she hoped they would remain friends.

He tugged her hand gently, bringing her to stand by his side, where she caught her first glimpse of the people who had brought this inscrutable man into the world.

They were surprisingly young, late forties or early fifties at the most, but with the haggard expressions of people who’d done it tough their entire lives. His father had a grey receding hairline and a plethora of lines on his face, and his mum had faded blonde hair, a stack of wrinkles that no amount of moisturiser could fix, and eyes that had seen too much.

‘Pleased to meet you.’ She stepped forward and held out her free hand, surprised when Brock didn’t release the other.

‘Call me George,’ his father said, shaking her hand firmly. ‘And this is Bette.’

‘Nice to meet you.’ Bette waved, her smile friendly.

Brock took another step into the room. ‘How’s everything going here?’

‘Bloody awful.’ George grimaced and pointed at his hip. ‘I can’t wait to get out of this prison.’

‘You’ll be in rehab before you know it,’ Bette said, rolling her eyes. ‘Stop your bellyaching.’

George screwed up his nose. ‘It’s the food I hate the most. Tasteless slop.’ He shot a fond glance at Bette. ‘Nothing like your meatloaf and gravy, or your pasta carbonara.’

Bette practically preened under her husband’s praise. ‘If you think flattery will get me to bring you in another serve, you better keep it up, old man.’

‘Who are you calling old, chook?’

They chuckled together and only then did Jayda realise Brock was squeezing her hand so tight it hurt. She glanced up at him to see him staring at his parents in amazement, as if he’d never seen them talk to each other. Weird. She wiggled her fingers so he’d ease off the pressure; he released her hand completely and stepped forward as if in a daze.

‘Do you have those tickets, Mum? We need to get going.’

‘Always in a hurry,’ Bette said, fishing in her handbag before pulling out two gaudy silver tickets losing glitter at a rate of knots. ‘I hope you don’t rush your lovely girlfriend everywhere you go.’

Girlfriend? Jayda bit back a grin. If Brock’s shoulders were any more rigid she could rest an entire quarry of boulders on them.

‘Stop trying to embarrass me, Mum.’ His admonishment held no rancour as he took the tickets.

‘I’m not.’ Bette shifted her gaze to Jayda. ‘If I wanted to embarrass you I’d tell Jayda about that time you ran around the car yard naked after falling into the giant wash bucket. Or the time you got chickenpox and thought you’d caught—’

‘We get the general idea.’ Brock winced as his father guffawed and pointed at her.

‘Jayda, if you want to hear any more of those stories, you know where to find us.’

She smiled. ‘Thanks, George, I’ll keep that in mind—’

‘We’re going.’ Brock’s interruption sounded abrupt and loud, sucking some of the light-heartedness out of the room, but it didn’t stop his father from laughing louder.

‘Jayda, you’re a good match for my rude son,’ George said, exchanging a look with Bette, who nodded vigorously.

‘I second that.’ Bette stared at them both in blatant speculation. ‘Hang onto this one, Brock. She’s a keeper.’

‘You two are unbelievable,’ he muttered, dropping a quick kiss on his mum’s cheek and patting his dad on the shoulder. ‘See you later.’

Jayda raised her hand in farewell, stunned to see the glint of tears in Bette’s eyes. What the hell was going on here? Exactly how many women had Brock introduced to them over the years that they spent five minutes in her company and decided she’d be good for him?

Not that she didn’t enjoy watching him squirm, but there’d been a strange vibe in that room. Then again, considering her family dynamics before Sasha’s death and after, who was she to criticise?

When they exited the room, Brock slumped against the nearest wall in obvious relief.

‘That was…’ He shook his head, a deep frown slashing his brows. ‘Thank fuck we’re in a hospital because I need a mega dose of painkillers to cope with that.’

She laughed. ‘It wasn’t so bad.’

He scowled and ran a hand through his hair. ‘It was worse.’

‘You’re being too hard on them.’ She touched his arm. ‘They obviously adore you and want you to be happy.’

‘Adore me?’ He snorted, the flare of pain in his eyes making her inhale sharply before he blinked and she wondered if she’d imagined it. ‘My parents have bestowed many things on me over the years, adoration isn’t one of them.’

‘You don’t get along?’

The moment the question slipped from her lips she knew she’d asked the wrong thing. He visibly shut down in front of her eyes: his expression hardened until he appeared stony-faced, his eyes darkened with sadness, and a faint flush stained his cheeks.

‘We get along fine.’ His short, clipped response brooked no argument and right now, with the rest of their evening stretching interminably before her, she didn’t want to probe.

She had high hopes for this evening: him in a suit, her looking her best, a band, champagne, and hopefully a little relaxation. Throwing herself into work and organising this function hadn’t been enough of a distraction the last week and come four-thirty she’d gladly shut down her computer and headed off for her hair and makeup appointment. She’d wanted to look good tonight. Heck, she’d wanted to look fantastic because projecting a confident exterior would fuel her courage to confront Brock.

‘You’re a fraud, just like me.’

She hadn’t been able to forget his comment last week. He might have glossed over it quickly and she’d let him, but the more she pondered it, the more she wanted to know what he’d meant by it.

Sure, she was a fraud. She pretended every single day: that she didn’t mind being overweight. That she didn’t let her parents’ betrayal bother her. That she didn’t mind being secondbest in their eyes no matter what she did. But she rarely let her insecurities show.

So Brock’s comment begged the question: what was he hiding?

‘We should go now or we’ll be late.’ He offered her his hand and she took it, content to leave things for now. He looked frazzled and there’d be time enough when he took her home to confront the simmering undercurrents between them; as long as the sex didn’t distract her.

It would be inevitable. Brock in casual clothes was delectable. Brock in a designer suit: absolutely scrumptious. The crisp whiteness of his shirt contrasted perfectly with his tan and mop of unruly brown curls. Her fingers itched with the urge to run through them as a vivid image of her hands tangling in his hair as he had his head between her legs sprang to mind.

Heat swamped her body, pooling in her cheeks. She must’ve made some kind of embarrassing sound because he shot her a sideways glance.

‘Everything okay?’

‘Just peachy.’ She flashed a smile for good measure.

‘You’re awfully flushed.’

‘The hospital’s over-heated.’

His gaze locked with hers and when his eyes widened imperceptibly she knew he could see all her horny thoughts reflected there.

‘You know, we could always skip this stupid awards event?’

She could’ve almost said yes if not for the weird family dynamics she’d witnessed earlier. ‘We could, but your dad’s counting on you to represent him at this thing, isn’t he?’

A scowl curled his upper lip. ‘Yeah. So?’

‘So you don’t want to let him down.’ She squeezed his hand. ‘Besides, it’ll be over by eleven.’

He arched an eyebrow. ‘And?’

Even with her four-inch stilettos she had to lean in and stand on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. ‘And after that, we have all night.’