Brody

7

“PADDLE, PADDLE, PADDLE!” Brody shouted. He gave the surfboard a final shove, sending Payton off into the set of small waves on Cottesloe Beach. They’d practiced on the beach first and then he’d caught a few waves with her in front of him on his board. But she was determined to do it on her own.

“Pop up!” he called.

To Brody’s surprise, she nimbly got to her feet. Steadying herself, she slowly straightened, her arms out to the side. Brody shouted as she rode the wave. There wasn’t much that Payton couldn’t do once she set her mind to something.

She stayed on her feet all the way to the shore, hopping off the board just before she hit the beach. She looked at him, waving and jumping up and down in excitement. Then she turned the board around and paddled back out to him.

The weather was perfect for a winter day in June. The sun was shining but the water was a bit chilly, so they both wore wet suits. Brody had made a gift of the surfboard and wet suit, hoping that they’d be staying in Fremantle long enough to enjoy them.

Life was certainly simpler here than it had been at the station. Their days and nights belonged entirely to them. They strolled the streets, stopping to eat or browse through a shop when they wanted. They went to the movies and a concert in the park and rented bicycles to tour old Fremantle.

Brody had planned a trip to Rottnest Island for the next week, booking a room in the old hotel in case they wanted to spend a few hours alone together during the day. Though he knew she might decide to leave at any time, he wanted to believe she’d still be with him in a week.

They kept themselves busy during the day, but it was the nights that Brody found most satisfying. Blessed with absolute privacy, they had the time to explore the limits of their passion. Sex ranged from a silly romp, to a frantic drive for release, to a slow, methodical seduction-and all in one day.

“Did you see me?”

“I did,” Brody said as she paddled up to him. “You were great.”

“I was! It was so much fun. I want to try a bigger wave.”

“All right, hang on. I’ll just put in your order.” He looked up at the sky. “Can we have some bigger waves, please?”

She splashed water in his face. “I meant, we should go to another beach with bigger waves.”

He splashed her back, then reached out and grabbed her, both of them tumbling off their surfboards. Treading water, Brody pulled her into his arms and kissed her, his mouth searching for hers through the saltwater that dripped from her hair.

There was nothing more satisfying, he mused as he teased at her tongue. The fact that he could kiss and touch her whenever he chose to was something he had come to appreciate. In truth, he couldn’t imagine doing without it.

He drew back and looked down into her eyes. Droplets of water clung to her lashes. “We’ll find some bigger waves tomorrow,” he said. He helped her back onto her board, then straddled his. “We need to get you in to shore and put some sunscreen on your face. You’re starting to burn.”

“Let me try one more wave. Then we can go.”

“Only if you kiss me again,” he said.

She leaned into him, her feet dangling off the sides of her board, and placed a quick kiss on his lips.

He frowned. “You can do better.”

With a dramatic sigh, she leaned in again and this time, treated him to a full-on tongue kiss, her mouth warm against his. She knew exactly how he liked to be kissed and she used that knowledge to her advantage. When she drew back, she arched her eyebrow.

“All right,” he agreed. “One more wave. I’m not going to give you a push this time. I’m just going to tell you when to go.”

She lined her board up, watching over her shoulder as the next set rolled in. “Tell me when,” she said.

“Go,” he said. “Paddle hard. Paddle!”

This time, she got up right away. But she was so excited that she threw her arms over her head and disrupted her balance. She wobbled and then tumbled off the board into the water. Brody waited for her to come up and when she didn’t, he paddled over to her board, cutting through the water in strong, even strokes.

By the time he reached her, she was up and coughing water, clinging to the edge of the board. “Are you all right?”

She nodded. “Water up my nose.” She coughed again. “That was bad.”

“You shouldn’t have put your hands up,” he said. “You were doing so well.” He held her board as she climbed back on. When they reached the shore, he helped her tuck her board under her arm before walking onto the beach.

“It’s getting late,” he said. “We should get some lunch.” He jammed the surfboards into the sand, then peeled his wet suit down around his waist.

Payton took a deep breath and turned her face up to the sun. “I love it here. It’s just like California. Only no earthquakes.”

“I wish it was spring,” he said. “We could go bush-walking and see the wildflowers. Western Australia is known for that. Miles and miles of flowers.”

“Maybe we can,” she said.

Brody knew it was just an offhand reply, that her words contained no promises. They hadn’t made any plans or given any pledges to each other, beyond the promise of unbridled passion in the bedroom. He didn’t want to think about that now. Instead, he was determined to show her exactly how much fun life was with him here in Oz.

“What do you want to do with the rest of the day?”

“I want to enjoy the good weather.” She glanced over at him. “I noticed there’s a football game this weekend. Could we go?”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“I’m just curious to see what you used to do for a living.”

“I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “I haven’t been to a game since I got dropped from the club.”

“It’s all right,” she said. “If you don’t want to, we don’t have to.”

He thought about her request for a few seconds. Denying her anything was impossible. And what did he have to lose? It might be fun to explain the game to her. There was nothing quite like Aussie football. “All right. I’m going to call and see if I can get us some decent seats.”

She grinned. “Good.”

“Any other requests?”

“I heard there was a nude beach around here.”

“Yes,” he said. “Swanbourne Beach.”

“I’ve never been to a nude beach. I think I should try it at least once. I was really good at skinny-dipping, so I think I’d do well at the nude beach.”

“You do realize you’d have to take off your clothes and go naked in front of strangers, don’t you?”

“Yes. That’s the point. I’ve never done that. I’m trying new things. Trusting my instincts. And it might feel good, liberating, don’t you think?” She reached out and ran a finger down his chest. “It’ll be fun.”

“No,” Brody said emphatically. “I’m not taking you to Swanbourne. You can go on your own if you like, but I’m not going.”

“Prude,” she teased. “You have a very nice body. And you’re well endowed. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“That’s not it. You know exactly what happens to me when you get naked. And I’m not going to walk around the beach with a throb in my knob.”

“I’d find that visual very entertaining,” she said. She glanced down and fixed her gaze on his crotch.

“Stop,” he said.

“What? I’m not doing anything.”

“Stop it. You’re going to get me all worked up.”

“I’m not doing anything,” she repeated in a voice filled with mock innocence.

“There’s no extra room in this wet suit,” he said. “So just knock it off.”

She looked up at him and gave him a devilish smile. “I have such amazing powers,” she said. “I surprise even myself.”

He pulled her against him, wrapping his arm around her neck in a playful headlock. “Why don’t we go home and you can give me a demonstration of your powers.”

“I’d be happy to,” she said. “I think it’s important that I share my powers with as many people as I can.”

“Now you’ve gone too far,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “There will be no sharing.”

They gathered their things and walked back to the car, Payton’s hand tucked in his. It had been another perfect day, he mused as they strapped their boards on the BMW’s roof rack. Brody couldn’t imagine life getting any better than this.

PAYTON CLUTCHED the program in her hands as they walked through the crowds of fans to their seats. Brody’s appearance seemed to cause quite a stir among those in attendance and he was stopped again and again with requests for autographs and photos. Payton waited patiently, watching as he handled each request with surprising grace and enthusiasm, giving special attention to the younger fans.

She hadn’t realized how famous he was and she found herself regretting her request to come. It couldn’t be easy to answer all the questions about his injury, about the chances of him playing again, about the plays that everyone remembered him making.

When he finally pulled himself away from the fans, she held on to his arm and gave it a squeeze. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“For what?”

“For asking you to come here. I didn’t realize how difficult it might be for you. It was selfish of me.”

“No,” he said. “Actually, I’m doing all right. I thought it would be a bit dodgy, but it’s not that bad.”

They found their seats and settled in. Payton took a good look around, then turned to him. “All right, give me the scoop.”

“You want ice cream?” he asked.

“No, the scoop. The skinny. The 4-1-1. Tell me what I need to know.”

“Oh, all right. Well, this is the Subiaco Oval. And that’s the team, my former team, out there warming up.”

“The field is round,” Payton said.

“Oval.”

“I like the outfits,” she added, observing the players on the field. “Not as hot as chaps, but pretty sexy. Nice short shorts. And sleeveless jerseys to show off the muscles.” In truth, she could imagine Brody running around in that uniform. “Maybe you could take out your old outfit when we get home and we could play footballer and the surfer girl.”

Brody laughed, glancing around to see if anyone had heard. “Better yet, I’ll buy you a guernsey, you wear it and nothing else, and I’ll show you some of my moves.”

“A guernsey. Is that like a jumper or a cardie?”

“Jumper,” he said. “Cardie has buttons down the front.”

“And what is the team called?” she asked.

“Their official name is the Fremantle Football Club, but everyone calls them the Dockers. See, they have an anchor on their jumpers.”

She nodded. “So, what’s the deal? How do they get points?”

She listened as he explained the rules. Eighteen players on a side. The aim was to kick the ball through the poles on each end of the field. They could throw, kick and pass the ball to move it downfield, but they weren’t supposed to hold on to it. When they kicked the ball through the center pair of four posts the team scored six points. But Payton became hopelessly confused when Brody tried to explain something called a “behind.”

The game began and the crowd immediately grew noisy. She’d never been to an American football game, but she couldn’t imagine more of a party atmosphere than she was experiencing now. There was music and cheering and dancing in the stands, along with a lot of beer. And incredibly dangerous activity on the field.

The players wore no padding or helmets, yet they seemed to slam into each other on a regular basis. Men were thrown to the ground and bloodied by flying elbows and knees. Payton was grateful that Brody was sitting safely next to her. She couldn’t imagine watching him and not worrying herself sick.

Brody cheered the team, shouting out his displeasure at good plays by the opposition. As the game went on, he continued to explain the intricacies of the plays and by the time it ended, Payton actually could follow each play as it developed on the field.

The Dockers lost, but Brody didn’t appear to be too upset by the result. In truth, he seemed to be quite happy that they’d come. Payton wrapped her arm around his waist as they walked out of the stadium.

“Brody Quinn!”

They stopped and Brody turned, then smiled as an older gentleman approached them dressed in a polo shirt with the Fremantle team logo stitched on the chest.

“Simon. How are you?”

“I’m well. You look grand. Healthy. Keeping fit, I see.”

“Trying,” Brody said, rubbing his abdomen. He turned to Payton. “Simon, this is Payton Harwell. Payton, this is the team doctor, Simon Purvis. He helped me through my rehab.”

Simon held out his hand and Payton took it. “Pleasure,” he said. “Did you enjoy the game?”

“I did,” Payton said. “It’s a little rougher than I expected, but it was fun to watch.”

“We’re a tough lot here in Oz.” Simon grinned. “So, you’re from America. I recognize the accent.”

“I am,” Payton said.

“Where do you call home?”

“Connecticut. Though I live in Manhattan. New York City?”

“Ah. New York Giants. New York Jets. Interesting. Almost bizarre, that.”

“What?” Brody asked.

“I just met a scout for the Americans. For their NFL. He’s come looking for kickers. I wasn’t about to send any of our guys to see him. But you might want to give him a tingle, Brody.”

“No,” Brody said. “I’m in no condition to play.”

“There’s the thing,” Simon said. “It’s a different game. At least for kickers and punters. All you have to do is kick. They put the ball down and you kick it through the posts. Or you drop-kick it. They call that punting. Once or twice, they might knock you down, but if they touch you while you’re kicking, it’s a penalty. Brody, you’ve got a way with that foot of yours. It would be a shame to see it go to waste.”

Payton turned to Brody, trying to read his expression. But she could see nothing that indicated how he felt. She expected him to be happy, or at least curious about the possibility. “I don’t know. I was going to look into that surgery you told me about, but I’m not sure I-”

“You might not need the surgery,” Simon said. “You don’t have to carry the ball. There’s no cutting or quick direction shifts. You might have to tackle, but that’s really not your job.” He paused. “I can ring him up, if you like. I’m sure he’d be interested in seeing you.”

“I’ll think about it,” Brody said.

“Don’t think too long,” Simon warned. “He’s only going to be here for a few weeks and then he’s back to the States.”

Brody shook Simon’s hand, and as they walked back to the car, he was strangely silent. Payton wasn’t sure whether he wanted her opinion on the matter, and decided to wait for him to speak first. But when he didn’t, she decided to start the conversation. “That was interesting,” she said. “But what is a tingle? And why do you have to give this guy one?”

“A phone call,” he explained. “You know, there have been a couple of Aussies that have gone over to play in America. One was a kicker. He did pretty well.”

“Do you want to play again?”

“Sure. But Aussie football is what I do.”

“Have you ever seen an American game?”

“The Super Bowl once or twice. I never really paid much attention.” He shook his head. “It’s a crazy idea. They’re not going to want anything to do with me once they see my knee.”

“Maybe you could wear long pants. And show them how you can kick first, before you tell them about your injury.”

Brody chuckled. “That might work. But the first thing they’re going to ask is whether I’ve been seriously injured.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to talk to the guy,” Payton said.

Brody opened the door of the car for her and helped her inside. “I’ll think about it.”

As they made their way out of the parking lot, Brody was lost in his thoughts. He held her hand, his fingers woven through hers, and every now and then, he brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it, as if to remind himself she was still there.

Payton drew a deep breath and then relaxed back into the seat. She wasn’t quite sure how she felt about the possibility of him moving to the States. Here in Australia, she was the visitor. If things didn’t work out, she could always leave. But having Brody in the U.S. seemed like such a serious shift in their relationship.

It was silly to worry over it now, though. When she had to make a choice, she’d make a choice. And until then, she intended to enjoy her time with Brody.

BRODY STARED at the ceiling above the bed in the early-morning light. Sleep hadn’t come easily for him, though he and Payton had exhausted themselves making love before she’d curled up in his arms and drifted off.

Instead, his head was filled with thoughts about the day’s revelations. His life had taken so many sharp turns lately, he shouldn’t be surprised at this one. Playing in America would give him a chance to get his life set up again. He’d be working, making a decent salary. He could save his money, instead of blowing it on expensive toys and exotic vacations. He’d have something to offer Payton then. But the chances of getting a job in the U.S. were slim, especially considering his injury.

Brody rolled over onto his side and stared at her. Her hand was curled next to her face, her hair tumbled over her shoulder. He still thought she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever met. There were moments when he believed he’d never be able to do without her, that waking up with her by his side and falling asleep with her in his arms was the only thing that mattered.

He reached out and smoothed his hand over her hip, her skin like silk beneath his fingertips. How was it that she suited him so perfectly? Whether they were living on the station or here in Fremantle, their lives seemed to mesh flawlessly.

He’d had his share of high-maintenance women-girls like Vanessa, who’d demanded far too much and offered far too little. They’d been extras in his life, like fast cars and expensive electronics, something to acquire and then grow bored with over time.

But he’d never felt as if he’d acquired Payton. She’d appeared in his life one day and decided to stay. He was well aware that she might choose to leave at any time. He wasn’t in control of this relationship, she was. And maybe that’s what kept the boredom at bay.

He was almost afraid to believe they might make it work. He’d always assumed he’d find the right woman, but he’d imagined it would happen at a distant point in the future, not now. She was the right woman. Brody was fairly certain of that.

So what was required to keep her? He needed a way to support them both, to give her a comfortable lifestyle. Without a job, he could give her four or five years. With a job, maybe a lifetime. And he needed to make sure her fiancé was out of her life for good. He ought to encourage her to contact her parents and smooth out the problems there. And then he needed to plead his case to her family.

Hell, they’d probably be suspicious of him from the start. He didn’t come from some blueblood line with money coming out of his arse. He was a working-class bloke without a proper education. But he had one thing going for him-there wasn’t another man in the world who loved Payton more than he did.

He drew a deep breath. He loved her. It was that simple. Brody gasped, stunned by the revelation. Love was the only way to describe how he felt.

But how did she feel? Payton had been silent on that issue. She seemed content to just go along as they were-lovers, friends, companions. She lived in the present, avoiding any discussion of what was to come.

Why was that? Brody wondered. Was it because she thought their relationship had no future? Or was it because she didn’t want to face returning to her fiancé and family? If she truly loved him, she would have given him some hint by now. Every other woman he’d known was ready to profess love after the second date.

Maybe he just didn’t measure up. Maybe she was biding her time until some other man caught her eye. Brody rolled over on his back and pressed his palm to his chest, aware of the ache in his heart. He’d never loved a woman before, so he’d never risked getting hurt. For the first time in his life, he was afraid. What if she didn’t want him? Would he ever be able to forget her and move on?

He sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and pushed himself to his feet. Raking his hands through his hair, he wandered over to the windows and stared out at the river and the lights twinkling from the opposite side.

If he was going to make this work, he needed a plan. Hell, Callum was the planner in the family. Maybe he ought to go to his older brother for advice. Worst-case scenario, he could always work the station. They’d have a home and Payton seemed to enjoy living there. Best case, he’d find a job that allowed them to live wherever they wanted, on the station, in Fremantle, in Manhattan, if they chose.

Sighing softly, Brody walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. He grabbed a jug of orange juice and unscrewed the top, then took a long drink. Suddenly, he was wide awake, his mind spinning with the possibilities. If he couldn’t play, maybe he could coach. Or he could be an analyst for one of the networks. Or a sports presenter on the local news.

Brody strode into the living room and picked up the remote, then flipped through the stations until he came to ESPN Australia. The network played mostly American sports, but there was a nightly program that focused on Aussie sports. He could talk football and rugby and make a paycheck doing it. And if ESPN didn’t want him, perhaps he might convince someone to hire him at Seven Network.

He leaned back into the sofa and closed his eyes. His coaches and friends had all told him he could find a career outside football, but he’d been too stubborn to listen to them, too angry about his injury to even consider the alternatives. But now he had a reason to get serious about his future.

He switched the telly over to a DVD of his rookie season, listening to the analysts as they described the action. His attention shifted to the twenty-year-old kid in the green guernsey. It was hard to believe he’d ever been that young. Though it was only six years ago, it seemed like a lifetime.

“What are you doing out here?”

He turned to see Payton standing in the bedroom doorway. She’d pulled on the Dockers jumper he’d bought her at the game and she looked irresistible in it, her hair a riot of curls around her face.

“Just watching some telly,” he said. He patted the sofa cushion next to him and she crossed the room and curled up beside him.

“Is this your team?” she asked.

“Yep. See, there I am. Number fifteen. Watch. I’ll score a goal.” He waited, knowing every play by heart. This was the game when he’d broken the season scoring record for rookies. “There. There it is.”

“Yay for you,” Payton said, patting his belly. “Good onya.”

He wrapped his arm around her neck and pulled her closer, pressing a kiss into her fragrant hair. “I want you to stay with me,” he murmured.

“I’m not sleepy,” she said, mistaking his request.

“No, I mean, I want you to stay with me. I want you to live with me, here, in Australia. I don’t want you to go back to the States.” He’d made the same request back at the shack that night she got lost in the bush. But then, he’d just wanted reassurance. Now, he wanted to focus on the future.

She pushed back and looked up into his eyes, her brow creased in an intense frown. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Promise me,” he said. “I don’t want to wake up some morning and find you gone. I want to make this work.”

She sighed softly, then glanced away. “I’m here because I want to be, Brody. If I didn’t want to be here, I’d tell you.”

“Would you? You ran out on your wedding. You didn’t tell your fiancé that you didn’t want to be there.”

“That was different,” Payton said.

“How? Tell me how.”

“I-I…” She paused for a moment, then shook her head. “I should have been brave enough to tell him the truth. I don’t have any excuses for that. But I’m different now. I’m not afraid to speak up for myself, for what I want. I promise, I’ll tell you if I want to leave.”

It wasn’t the promise he was looking for, but it was as good as he was going to get. Brody would have to be satisfied that it was enough. And yet he wasn’t. Until Payton faced her family and her ex-fiancé, he’d always be looking over his shoulder, waiting for someone to turn up and lure her back to the States.

Did he really want to live with that kind of doubt? A sensible, secure guy would tell her to go back and clear up the mess she’d made and then return to him, free of any entanglements. But Brody had never cared for any woman the way he cared for Payton. And he didn’t want to let her out of his sight for a moment, much less send her toddling back to Mr. Moneybags.

“Do you ever think about him?” Brody asked.

“Sam?”

Sam. There. She’d said his name. How many times had she said that name? How many times with love in her eyes and how many times with passion in her touch? She had a whole history with this man, a life that Brody knew nothing about.

“Never mind.” He pushed to his feet. “I don’t need to know. I really don’t want to know.” He raked his hands through his hair again, suddenly feeling a bit vulnerable, standing in front of her stark naked. This was exactly why he couldn’t allow himself to believe in a future with Payton.

She might be able to handle it, but he’d surely find a way to fuck it up. “I’m going to go for a run,” he said.

“But, it isn’t even light out.”

Brody shrugged. “It will be by the time I get back.”

“I could come with you.”

“No. I just need to clear my head.” He walked back to the bedroom and put on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, then grabbed his trainers from the closet floor. When he returned to the living room, she was sitting where he’d left her, her knees pulled up beneath the oversize jumper.

“I’ll be back in an hour,” he said. “Why don’t you get a little more sleep and then we’ll go to breakfast.”

Brody slipped out of the door before she could reply to his suggestion, then strode down the hall to the lift. He stepped inside, releasing a tightly held breath as the doors closed in front of him.

There was no sense trying to plan his future right now. Until he found work, it would be best to keep his feelings for Payton in check. He could enjoy their time together, enjoy the passion they shared, but anything beyond that would be a risk.