The Heartbroker (5 page)

I FLY INTO QUEENSTOWN on a stunning day, one without a breath of wind or a cloud in the sky. The purple-hued peaks of The Remarkables mountain range are covered with bright, white snow, adding to their majestic beauty, juxtaposed against the deep, dark blue of Lake Wakitipu below.

It’s spring and the deciduous trees have blossomed into an array of whites and soft pinks, creating an almost impossibly gorgeous picture-perfect spot.

It’s hard not to wax lyrical about the magnificence of this place, even if you’re like me and have been coming here to ski every winter since childhood. Its beauty never gets old for me.

I’ve decided to fly down south before the rest of the team by about twenty-four hours so I can spend some quiet time preparing for my next meeting with Logan.

Logan. My conversation with Laura and Alexis the other night made me grasp just how dangerous it would be to act on my feelings for him. I know we’re going to be spending a lot of time together this weekend, but I’m hoping I’ll be so absorbed in the seminar it won’t even occur to me to focus on how gorgeous he is.

Or on the way he makes me feel.

Not having seen him over the last few days has certainly helped diminish my attraction to him. Out of mind, out of sight. Well, almost.

I just need to be strong and focused: two things Brooke Mortimer is known for. It should be a total cinch, right?

After a quick taxi ride from the airport, I arrive at an imposing hotel on the lakefront where we will be both staying and holding the seminar.

I check into my room with its view of the calm, cool waters of the lake, and decide to settle my thoughts with a run. Running has always been my haven. It keeps me in shape, gives me time to think, and helps me stay calm throughout the day. I’m uptight if I miss my daily run, and try at all costs to get one in, even at my busiest times. I guess you could say I’m a run-aholic, needing my fix. And today is no exception.

Before even unpacking, I throw my running gear on, sweep my hair up into a ponytail, and head out the door.

Once outside I decide to turn away from the township, running along the road next to the lake. Despite the cold, the air is so crisp and clean and I want to stay out in it all day. I take one of the roads winding up the hill away from the lake. After running uphill for some time I stop to catch my breath and take in the view. The lake and surrounding mountains are bathed in the midday Spring sun and I take a moment to take a deep breath, appreciating Mother Nature’s handiwork.

When I reach the hotel I’m hot and sweaty and in desperate need of a shower. I spy the sign for the hotel pool. A dip would be bliss right now. I decide to check it out on the off chance no one is around.

As luck would have it, the pool is deserted. Making a quick check around I strip off to my sports bra and cotton panties, loosen my hair, and dive in. The water is refreshing against my skin, cooling my exercised-induced flushed cheeks as I swim a couple of lengths before languishing in the cool water.

Despite my best efforts, my mind wanders to Logan. I find myself sighing as I think of him. Oh yes, he’s definitely that kind of man: the kind women sigh over.

I try to snap myself out of it by reminding myself his attractiveness is merely an annoyance, one I can handle with ease. He’ll be gone soon and I doubt I’ll ever have to see him again.

Just get through the next few days, Brooke, that’s all you have to do.

I duck my head under the water and swim across to the edge of the pool. As I climb up the steps I spot a pile of complimentary towels at the cabana.

I freeze as I hear a door close behind me.

Busted.

I swivel around, my embarrassment rising as I glance down my dripping wet body. What felt like acceptable attire when I was alone a few short moments ago, now suddenly feels completely
un
acceptable.

I decide to fake it and plaster a confident smile across my face as I turn to face my fellow swimmer.

Oh. My. Freaking. God. No no no no no. It
can’t
be him.

“Brooke? Is that you?” Logan asks, sauntering towards me.

Rooted to the spot, I watch with growing mortification as his gaze sweeps my body, finally resting on my face. A smile teases at the corners of his mouth.

He’s wearing swimming trunks and a white T-shirt, snug over his toned chest, a towel tucked under his arm. He’s standing by my side in a few quick strides.

Why does it have to be Logan McManus? Why?
Anyone
but him!

I’m acutely aware I’m soaking wet, dressed only in a sports bra and undies. And they’re white.

I’m practically
naked
in front of this man. The almost transparent material clinging to my body leaves little to the imagination.

It’s like a scene from a tacky soft porn movie. In a moment Logan will come out with some cheesy line as he rips off his T-shirt and I’ll fall into his arms in a sexy embrace . . . Or not. Sexy is the very last thing I’m feeling right now.

More like humiliated. Deeply, deeply humiliated.

I struggle to take in enough oxygen.

My eyes dart to the towels mere metres away. I decide to lunge for one in order to preserve what little dignity I still have, then turn to face him. I plaster a look of bravado on my face.

“Logan.” I force a smile and ignore the acrobats doing energetic flips in my belly. “How nice to see you.”

“Great to see you too, Brooke,” he replies in his low, rumbling voice.

‘
Hello there, Big Boy
,’ my Girly Bits reply, clenching at the chocolaty, masculine sound of it.

I tighten my towel over my chest.

I want to dive back into the pool and hide there like an embarrassed mermaid. But then I’d have to flash him my undies again. I don’t think I could face that level of humiliation once more.

“What are you doing here?” My eyes dart to his swimming trunks and towel as he stands next to the pool. “Other than going for a swim, that is.” I laugh to cover my embarrassment, hoping he’ll laugh with me.

I remind myself he’s almost undoubtedly slept with Lucinda by now. He’s damaged goods. Hot and sexy damaged goods, but damaged goods all the same.

“Yes. I’m going for a swim,” he confirms, still smiling at me, holding my gaze. “And it looks like you’ve just had one.” Once again his eyes slide down my body and back up again, causing me to catch my breath. “Water nice?”

I swallow. “Lovely. I needed to cool off after my run. But I’m going to get some work in now. So, I’ll see you later?” I ask in a sing-song-y voice, inching away from him.

I’m so flustered by his unexpected arrival—and the fact he looks so darn gorgeous—I can’t get out of here fast enough.

“Sure. Catch you later, Brooke,” he replies, putting his towel down on one of the lounge chairs.

He pulls his T-shirt over his head, and I’m mesmerized by what can only be called a Magic Mike Moment. Only he’s here, in the flesh. And my, what flesh!

I’m rooted to the spot, transfixed by his toned, tanned body. He’s in great shape: broad shoulders, defined torso, and strong, muscular arms.

My body thrums at the sight of him. I tell you, it’s all I can do to stop myself reaching out and stroking his chest there and then.

I shake my head to break the spell he’s cast over me and walk as fast as I can towards the door. Just as I’m about to push it open, blushing fiercely, he calls out to me.

“Hey Brooke? What are you doing later? Do you have some time to get together, say after lunch?”

He’s now standing facing me, wearing just his hip hugging trunks. I steel myself as I turn to face him. He’s just a man, Brooke, like your brother. Yes, that’s right, just like your brother. And seeing your brother in his swimming shorts is no big deal is it?

“Um, just working.” I concentrate hard on looking at the spot just to the right of his head so as to control myself, causing him to look behind him to see what’s attracted my attention.

“Everything okay?” he enquires, looking concerned.

“Ah, fine. Never better.”

Just keep looking to the side, Brooke. Not at him, whatever you do.

“Okay. Good.” He’s clearly feeling awkward at my odd behaviour. “Can we get together then? At about two?”

“Oh, sure. Of course. Two would be great.”

“See you in the lobby then.”

I turn to leave, scuttling through the door as quickly as I can as I hear him splash into the pool.

How’s that ‘I-can-ignore-my-feelings-for-Logan-and-just-focus-on-work’ thing working out right now, Brooke? Hmmm, yes, it’s definitely a work in progress.

I ARRIVE AT THE lobby a few minutes before two o’clock, aiming to be a little more poised and prepared than I was for our last encounter. Which, let’s face it, isn’t exactly hard, considering I’m pretty sure there’s very little mystery surrounding my physical appearance for Logan after this morning’s efforts at the pool.

I’ve agonized over what to wear to our meeting: too casual and I’ll look like I’m not professional enough; too formal and I’ll look like I can’t relax. I settled on my favourite pair of skinny jeans, a white collared shirt, with a slim-fitting black merino V-neck, and a pair of black ankle boots with a low heel.

I’m carrying my laptop bag in case he needs to see any documents or I need to refer to anything, and I’m confident and prepared for our meeting.

I’m also trying to forget my complete mortification at the pool. Blocking it out of my mind is the best way forward, and that’s what I’m going to do. I’ll just act like it never happened.

I smile at the concierge as I take a seat in one of the lobby’s plush chairs. Almost as soon as I’ve taken a steadying breath in anticipation of seeing Logan again, he appears at my side, looking down at me with a friendly smile.

“All set to go?” he enquires.

“Go?” I ask, standing up to face him, taking in his jeans, sneakers, and jacket, trying hard not to notice how hot he looks. Again. “Did you have another venue in mind? I thought we might just have our meeting here in the lobby, or over there, at the restaurant? We can order some coffee.”

“Our meeting?” he asks. “No, I’ve got a much better idea.”

He eyes my laptop bag, which I’ve leaned up against my seat in preparation for our discussion.

“We won’t be needing that.” He grins, his eyes twinkling.

“We won’t?” I yelp, unsure what this afternoon is turning into. I’ve mentally prepared myself to discuss work, a sturdy table positioned firmly between us.

“Absolutely not. It will only be in the way. And it might get damaged.”

Damaged?

“May I?” he asks and I nod in my confusion as he leans down to pick it up.

“Sure.” I’m more than a little nonplussed.

“Campbell? Would you mind taking this to Brooke Mortimer’s room?” he asks the concierge, as he places my laptop bag carefully on his desk. He turns to me. “It’s room number—?”

“Ah, it’s—” Do I want Logan to know my room number? The memory of his gaze sweeping over my body at the pool pushes into my brain.

‘
Yes!
’ scream my Girly Bits. ‘
Tell him!’

Oh, that’s
so
not a good idea.

Logan waits patiently.

“Err—” I stammer.

“It’s alright, Miss. Tell me your name and I’ll look it up for you,” Campbell The Lifesaving Concierge offers.

He takes my bag and I give him my name, heaving a sigh of relief.

“Room Two One Seven,” he announces a moment later in a booming voice. “I’ll have it sent up right away.”

“Thanks a lot.” Thanks for nothing.

The bag dispensed with I turn back to Logan. If I don’t need my laptop and this isn’t a meeting, then what is it? A
date
? My heart rate increases at the possibility.

He places his hand on the small of my back and leads me out of the lobby and into the afternoon sunshine. I try to ignore how thrilling it feels, to be touched by him. As he turns and smiles at me I force myself to repeat the mantra I’ve been practicing in my head since I met him: ‘It’s just business, it’s just business, it’s just business’.

Now, if only my body would get the memo.

Instead his touch heightens my awareness of our dangerous proximity, and I find it almost impossible to focus on anything other than the way my body tingles for him.

I need to get a grip.

We walk together down The Esplanade, the road running alongside the lake.

“So what exactly are we going to do?” I ask, trying to ignore the exhilaration zinging around my body.

“I thought we could go have some fun.” He grins at me again, raising his eyebrows.

“Fun?” I squeak, swallowing hard.

My mind darts to the fantasy I’ve been trying so hard to suppress about what ‘fun’ might look like with Logan McManus, and it’s all I can do to put one foot in front of the other on the footpath.

“Yeah, fun. I’m sure even Brooke Mortimer has fun, every now and then.”

I laugh nervously. “Of course! But I thought you wanted to discuss some items in relation to our deal.”

“There’s plenty of time for that. Did you know this is my first time ever in New Zealand? This place is so beautiful, and I really want to enjoy it before we get back to work. I figured you’d be a fun partner in crime. Okay with you?”

An involuntary smile spreads across my face. The thought of being out having some fun with Logan McManus in stunning Queenstown creates a sudden flurry of emotions: from nervous, to worried, to ecstatic, and everything in between.

He catches my smile. “I’ll take it as a yes, then.”

By now we’re in the township and there are tourists and locals alike bustling around us.

“We need to hurry or we’ll miss the bus.”

Bus? He’s taking me on a bus ride? Bus rides might be considered fun in San Francisco, but it’s considered a dull activity here in New Zealand.

“Here we are. Just in time.”

I look up at the sign above the storefront and I think my heart stops entirely. It reads,
AJ Hackett Bungy
.

Oh. My. God. He wants me to
bungy jump
with him?

I must have started hyperventilating as I see Logan’s concerned look on his face, one of his hands on my shoulder. “You okay there, Brooke?”

‘Fine, fine.” I’m
very
far from fine. My knees go suddenly weak, and for once it’s not because of Logan.

Not convinced, he puts his arm around me. “Are you sure? Because you don’t look so good.” Concern is etched on his face, and I find myself relaxing a little in his embrace.

Taking a few deep breaths I manage to speak. “Are you planning on doing a b-bungy?” I don’t want to know the response.

“Maybe,” he replies, looking down at me. “I don’t think you want to though,” he adds.

“You worked that one out, did you?” I laugh self-deprecatingly. “Heights and me don’t go together well.”

“Brooke, I’m sorry. I had no idea. His arm is still around my shoulder, warming and calming me. His touch is so reassuring; I don’t want him to let me go.

“So a bungy jump is out. Fine. There’s this cool looking, low impact, not scary at all zip ride thing over the Kawarau River I thought looked good. Do you think you might be up for that?”

I’m not sure if he’s pandering to me or not, but I leap at it nonetheless. “A not scary zip ride, you say? Sure, sounds good.”

How bad can a zip ride be? Whatever
that
is. And whatever it is, it has to be less frightening than a bungy jump.

“I’ll tell you what. Let’s go into the store, check it out, and if you want to do it, we will.”

I’ve calmed down enough now to know I need to regain some composure in front of Logan and appear to be unfazed by anything he could throw at me.

Although I suspect that ship has already sailed with a big neon sign screaming ‘Brooke’s-a-scaredy-cat’ emblazoned on its side.

“Sure. Let’s do that,” I say as we walk through the door, his arm still wrapped around me.

A few moments later and feeling much more settled we’re sitting next to one another on the bus, heading to Kawarau River. We’ve paid for two tickets on the sedate, non-scary zip ride.

“I know you were pretty freaked out at the idea of doing a bungy jump back there, but do you think you might be able to watch me do mine?” he asks gently.

I laugh self-consciously. “I’m not sure. I’m not good with heights.” As though that wasn’t obvious a few short moments ago. “Or with hurling myself off a perfectly good bridge with an elastic band attached to my ankles, for that matter.”

He chuckles. “Fair enough. I guess it is a pretty crazy thing to do, when you think about it.”

“I don’t even need to think about it to know it’s at the top of the list of crazy things to do, Logan. Well, the top of my list, anyway.”

He laughs and I can’t help but allow a smile to spread across my face. I’m so at ease with him. He’s sweet, kind, and funny, making my job of
not
falling for him harder by the minute.

I remind myself he’s here to broker a business deal with me, and simply invited me along today as company. Sure, he’s a nice guy; I could have been anyone. And his arm around me might have felt amazing back at the bungy shop, but he was just being kind, helping a mildly insane woman during an embarrassing panic attack.

Logan interrupts my thoughts. “I think you’re going to enjoy the zip ride. I did one in the States a while back and it was real fun. You see the world from a different perspective from up there, that’s for sure. And it’s nothing like a bungy jump, so don’t worry at all.”

“You’ve done a jump?” I’m both impressed and appalled in equal measure.

“Yes, I did it with a group of my buddies years ago when I was a freshman in college. It was such a rush. I always vowed I’d do it in New Zealand at the original spot where it was invented.” He shrugs. “And here we go.”

“So that’s where AJ Hackett comes in?” I may not be a bungy jumping aficionado, but I don’t live under a rock, either. I know he invented the bungy and it all started on a bridge over the Kawarau River, the very spot we’re heading to right now.

“Yeah. This is the pinnacle of my short, meagre bungy jumping career.”

“You set your mind to a goal and achieve it,” I comment, almost more to myself than to Logan.

“I suppose I do. A lot like you do,” he replies and as I look into his eyes I think I detect something akin to admiration. Something moves in my chest. I turn away quickly, looking out of the window at the landscape whizzing by.

What was that mantra of mine again? Focus, Brooke, focus: ‘It’s just business, it’s just business, it’s just business’.

We arrive at the zip ride and my heart rate quickens as the staff talk us through the safety aspects of the ride and I spy the harnesses people are donning in front of us in the line.

Sensing my unease, Logan takes my hand. I look immediately up at him, enjoying the sensation of his skin on mine. “You’re going to do great.”

His presence is so reassuring, so calming. If he wasn’t here with me now I know I’d be freaking out, making a total fool of myself.

Hang on a minute: if he wasn’t here with me now, then
I
wouldn’t be here at all. So, in fact, I should be freaking out at him! But just as this thought occurs to me, he squeezes my hand encouragingly.

“You ready?” he asks, grinning like an excited kid, causing me to let out a giggle despite myself.

“Sure,” I reply, watching as his eyes crinkle into a fresh smile.

“All right, people,” a staff-member says to Logan and me, breaking the spell. “Let’s get you strapped in here.”

Thanks to Logan my confidence is up a little. We reach the end of the platform, and then I make the classic mistake of looking down. I know this isn’t the bungy jump, I know this is the sedate ride your grandmother might enjoy—non-scary, Logan said—but it sure is a long way down to the river below.

My instinct is to step back abruptly. I bang straight into Logan. He grabs hold of me before I can do any further damage.

“Look Brooke, I’m sorry. You don’t have to do this.”

My eyes dart nervously around the people watching me on the platform.

“Everything okay here?” asks a young guy holding some white helmets. Helmets? Why do we need
helmets
?

“Just give us a minute,” Logan says to him. He puts his hands on my shoulders but it has no effect on me: there’s no way there’s anything zinging around my body right now other than sheer, unadulterated panic.

“I didn’t realise this was going to be such an issue for you. Let’s just go back to Queenstown. There’s plenty for us to do there. Okay?”

He’s so considerate, so understanding. I’m relieved and embarrassed, all at once.

“Hey, you know you can do a tandem if you want. You know, to make it easier? That way you can do it together,” Mr White Helmet says to us, wanting us to make a decision either way.

Logan’s face broadens into a grin. “Great idea. What do you say, Brooke? Want to do a tandem? I’ll be there, right next to you, the whole way.”

I feel so foolish and am trying desperately to overcome my fear as I turn from Logan to Mr White Helmet and back again, both of them with hopeful looks on their faces.

I know I desperately need to recover this situation: not just to regain my professional image in front of Logan but also for my own feelings of self-respect. A tandem ride might be a little less terrifying.