Authors: Donna Gallagher
As she left to walk the short distance to work, Caitlin noticed another moving van was blocking her car
. It wasn’t the first time she had been inconvenienced this way. There were always tenants moving their belongings in and out of the rented apartment upstairs.
“Just as well. I wanted to walk,” she muttered as she waved to her elderly neighbour, June, who was out in their shared garden. Caitlin went to speak to the woman, remembering that she still needed to confirm June’s ability to sit with Riley this Wednesday night, as well as her
two
usual nights.
June was usually found pottering around the little garden, pruning, planting and encouraging the most beautiful range of colours to appear.
“Good morning, June, the garden’s looking lovely. You really have the touch.” Caitlin saw the look of pride in the old woman’s eyes at her compliment. “Just beautiful. It really cheers me up seeing all
that colour, just like listening to a good piece of music. Which reminds me—are you still good with looking after Riley on
Wednesday
night?”
June
broke into a huge smile. Caitlin noticed a light twinkle shining in the older woman’s eyes as she repeated her favourite mantra.
“I’m always glad for the company, dear. Happy to have someone to watch my programmes with, and our Riley is such a good boy. We like the same shows. It’s no bother at all.”
June was such a gift. Caitlin knew that any programmes watched on those nights were Riley’s choice and that June just pretended to enjoy them—especially on Friday nights, when football was shown on free-to-air TV. She doubted the old woman enjoyed that sort of entertainment at all.
As usual, June gave Caitlin a lecture about all work and no play, trying to encourage her to have a life of her own, a chance to find someone to ‘fill her heart’s desires’, or some such romantic notion. Usually, Caitlin just laughed off these conversations, but today her imagination took hold and as she headed off to begin her work day, she
daydreamed
about her hunky hero and the way he had felt beneath her body all the way to the restaurant. It made her step a little lighter than usual.
Chapter Four
“I can’t believe it—you of all people, Brodes.”
“What? ‘Me of all people’
what
, JT? That smirk on your face is really starting to piss me off. What can
’
t you believe?” Brodie asked
.
“Ice-cold Brodie James, leader of all men, getting a woody at the public pool over some little redhead piece of tail.
That
is what I can’t believe, Cap. What were you thinking? Can you image the press getting a photo of that
particular
sideshow? Brrr… I shudder to think,” the enormous, dark-haired man said,
theatrically shivering
in response to his words.
Thinking about the fiasco at the pool again, Brodie still couldn’t believe she had run from him. She’d actually taken off like a scared rabbit. JT and the boys had been in hysterics. The memory of JT folded over holding his stomach, laughing at his expense, made Brodie curse under his breath.
They had ribbed him at every opportunity throughout the day’s second training session. He had managed to silence a few of the young upstarts by dropping them hard on their behinds during tackle practice, he thought smugly as he sat in the sheds, undoing the laces of his sponsored boots and trying to not let JT’s comments get under his skin. But it was true, and he knew it. He had
imagined
the very same thing as JT at the time, right down to the headlines in the paper. The fact remained that he had lost his cool, lost his head, so to speak. Because of her.
Every time he shut his eyes, images of those beautiful eyes and that face flashed into his mind. The memory of those cute bowed lips and her tongue poking out between them made him sigh with the loss he now felt. Made his cock awaken in interest.
Get it together. Now is definitely not a good time to be sporting a hard-on, not with this group of hyenas ready to rip me to pieces
,
he reminded himself
of the young players surrounding him in the noisy dressing room. But how he wished he could have kissed those lips and explored every inch of that mouth.
Such a waste
.
It was then that Brodie heard a conversation that made his blood boil. Rage consumed him as he registered the voice of one of the young bloods of the Jets. It sounded like the new halfback, Mitchell Harris, nicknamed Rookie.
“Well, it’s not like you could blame him. The girl was a hard-on on legs—did ya see the size of her rack?”
Brodie could not believe his ears as another male voice chimed in.
“Keep it down, Rookie, if the Cap hears ya he’ll blow a gasket. But I think you’re right. I’m a legs man, myself, and did you see the way she wrapped hers around Cap? Just thinkin’ about them wrapped around me, all long and shapely…”
He had heard enough. It was the derogatory comment about the size of her breasts that got him, and before he could stop himself he went into a thunderous rage, berating all in earshot about their stupidity at speaking so uncouthly.
“What is wrong with you people? For God’s sake, Rookie, can
’
t you and the boys keep your minds out of the gutter for a minute? Haven’t any of you learnt anything from the speeches and workshops the league hierarchy have sat us all through? What if someone was talking about your mother like that, Rookie? Hey, she’s an attractive woman—perhaps I should have a shot at her? How would that sit with you? Well, Rookie? Answer me,” Brodie roared at the suddenly sullen younger player.
The Australian Rugby League had devoted time and resources to trying to create a better image of football and footballers’ behaviour, especially with regards to their treatment of women, and Brodie now invoked those lessons angrily.
“I’m sorry, Cap, we were just foolin’ around,” the other stunned youngster
said
bravely
.
“Settle down, Brodie.” JT now stood between Brodie and their other teammates. “The whole team’s been watching you, Brodes—watching you watching her—for weeks now. There’s even been a sweep, placing bets on when you’ll work up enough courage to go and pick her up. Hey, no one guessed she’d end up doing it for you.”
JT chuckled, obviously trying to lighten the mood and calm him down. He wasn’t too keen on the idea that he had been the centre of this sort of attention.
“The young blokes were starting to think that there was something really wrong with you and that maybe you’d gone off chicks,” JT added, grinning. “But I told ’em you were just on a go-slow, concentrating on protecting their backsides and trying to win us a few games.” JT winked before moving away, returning to
the job of stowing
his gear
in
to
his sports bag
.
Brodie, seeing the looks on the men’s faces, finally realised that he had been well and truly set up. He’d fallen for the prank hook, line and sinker. The boys had been winding him up, teasing him. And they had busted him and his weakness for one Caitlin Walters.
* * * *
Brodie had a busy day ahead of him. He had a meeting with a local restaurant owner to go over the arrangements for using his venue for a fundraising night. The menu and entertainment was all to be taken care of by the owner of Mia’s Restaurant, Angelo Donetto. The hundred-and-fifty-dollar-a-seat dinner was nearly sold out, and all money raised at the event was to be used to purchase specialised sporting wheelchairs, after the costs were taken out.
There were various types of titanium chairs designed specifically to cater to the needs of different sports. Most of these chairs were priced over the three-thousand-dollar mark, which made them difficult for the young, physically disabled athletes and their families to afford. Sport had been such an important factor throughout Brodie’s life that he could not bear the thought of financial problems forcing a child to give up their chosen sport, at any level.
Brodie had met an inspirational young man who competed in marathons, and had been made aware of the boy’s huge potential. Despite not having had the opportunity to make use of a top-of-the-line wheelchair for his last event, the boy had still managed to finish in quite a competitive time. Brodie hoped that with the state-of-the-art equipment he was about to receive from this fundraising, the boy would be able to compete at the same level as others, and maybe even enter the next Paralympics.
Many footballers worked hard away from the footy field, television and newspaper cameras—doing varied charity or volunteer work, meeting with sick
kids
at the children’s hospital, or holding special training camps for
young people.
Unfortunately, most of this work was never put under the spotlight. It was always the worst actions that drew the most publicity.
After crunching the numbers, Brodie anticipated that
even after costs,
with all fifteen tables of ten sold and plenty of donated auction items up for grabs, he would clear well over sixteen thousand dollars. That should be enough to purchase at least five chairs—maybe a couple of chairs specially designed for track, a couple for court, basketball and tennis, and the marathon chair, of course. With that thought bringing Brodie a sense of great accomplishment, he decided to head on home. Being able to give help where it was needed was one of the by-products of his high-profile career that he actually enjoyed.
It had been an eventful day, Brodie
reflected
, as he parked his black Range Rover Vogue in its usual spot in the garage of the waterfront apartment block he owned.
After g
rabbing the sports bag that held the training gear he’d used earlier that day from the boot of his car, Brodie headed up the private stairway. The spiral staircase led to the balcony and back entrance of his personal apartment. He stopped for a few moments to admire the view of the busy Parramatta River and to watch a passing RiverCat—a public transport catamaran used to ferry passengers to and from the city. It really was a great view, and one he hadn’t stopped to admire for a while.
He remembered when he had first moved out of the lavish Hunter’s Hill home he had occupied with Lila, how much he had enjoyed sitting back and watching the many boats that used this waterway go by. Since it was a popular thoroughfare that led to the spectacular Sydney Harbour, the river view was always changing. Boats puttering to and from the harbour foreshores, heading up to the many sites worth a visit—the ‘Coathanger’ bridge spanning the distance between the
central business district
and North Sydney, the Opera House, the waterfront Taronga Zoo or the Botanical Gardens, to name a few. Sydney Harbour was one of the most famous harbours in the world. Brodie loved his home by the water. The picturesque view was a relaxing diversion and a welcome change from the tumultuous life he’d endured while married.
No way did he want to dwell on the past and ruin his memories of today. Lila had a way of doing that to him. He couldn’t help but wonder if Caitlin would treat him better. A ridiculous thought altogether, considering how little, if anything, he knew about the emerald-eyed beauty. Was that a good thing or not? He was still considering this question as he slid open the glass door leading to his home.
Chapter Five
Caitlin had not been inside the swimming complex at Leichhardt since her meltdown on Monday, preferring to do a drop-and-run from the safety of her car. She certainly had not looked for Brodie. Well, that was what she kept telling herself. The disappointment she felt at seeing Riley’s smiling face coming towards the car on both days was hard to explain.
It was Wednesday, and Caitlin had a lot of errands to run. Along with her usual lunch shift and singing at the private function in the evening, she had also promised to do a quick shopping run with June. Caitlin enjoyed the little shopping trips, which usually included sharing coffee, doughnuts and a side order of conversation with her neighbour.
June was also quite handy with a sewing machine, and had been making a new stage dress for Caitlin with diamantes and sequins hand sewn throughout the black fabric. Caitlin had been so excited at the last dress fitting—she was looking forward to finally getting to wear the costume at tonight’s event. The dress
was
incredible.
Even on me,
she had thought the last time she’d tried it on.
She had admired her image in the mirror—the neckline was just low enough to show the tops of her breasts, but not enough to make her feel self-conscious. The material seemed to hug her body gently, stopping just above the knee, the sparkling extras twinkling when she moved. Caitlin thought the new outfit would be a good addition to her stage wardrobe, but would never have dreamed of wearing the dress on any other occasion. Unless she was on stage singing, Caitlin preferred to blend into the background.
After settling June and Riley in front of the television with instructions for serving the lasagne she had made earlier, Caitlin went to dress. She wore her best black bra and matching panties under her new dress, and a pair of black stilettos to finish off the outfit. As the stage lights were bright and unforgiving, Caitlin usually wore makeup to perform—a layer of foundation, a quick brush of powder and rouge, finishing off with eye shadow and a touch of mascara to highlight her eyes, combined with a nice, bright lipstick. She wore her hair loose around her shoulders and gave it a quick fluff in front of the mirror, quite pleased with the results.