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  Her slender lips curve, but she looks a little unsure as her blue gaze moves from my face to something behind me.

  How fucking rude?

  “Brooklyn,” I hear in that voice. It lacks the curiosity it had the first time he said my name, but there’s definitely a suggestion of surprise present.

  Turning around, I look into Dane’s intense eyes. For a split second, I almost waver. I actually forgot how commanding and alluring his presence is, an unwelcome combination.

  “I’d like a word, please,” I say as graciously as I can. I’ll gladly embarrass the hell out of him, but I’m not going to embarrass myself by being aggressive.

  His expression doesn’t tell me anything. Cool, calm and collected. This is probably the norm for him. “Come on out back,” he says, low enough for only me to hear.

  “No.” I’m not going to some back room with a man I barely know, especially one I can’t gauge. “I’d rather go outside.” I don’t wait for his reply; I walk around him and head for the door. On the street is ideal, it’s away from watching eyes and listening ears, but on even territory and in a public place.

  On the pavement, I turn as Dane approaches me with his hands buried in the pockets of his black cargo trousers. They have a similar fit to his denims, only they’re slightly looser. The long-sleeved black cotton top bares the company logo over his right pec and snugly holds the physique I plan on erasing from my mind immediately after I say what I’ve come to say.

  When he stands a few feet away from me, I move back a couple of steps to give myself some space. He frowns at my actions and, of course, he’ll assume I’m being standoffish.

  “I won’t keep you long. Since you wanted me to form my own opinion of you, I just want you to know I’ve decided you’re an arsehole. I’m not bothered that you don’t want to see me again, but I do care that you didn’t have the decency to be honest with me – so much for the no bullshit or games.” I hold his gaze, though it’s far from easy.

  Those eyes and everything else about him overwhelms me.

  “It wasn’t like that.”

  “It doesn’t matter what it was like, I’m not here to gain further understanding. I only wanted to tell you what I think of you. I expect I’ll see you around at some point, so at least this way we’ve had closure, not that there was much to close.” I shrug my shoulders and stop at that, because this is starting to sound like the end of a flipping relationship.

  “Goodbye, Dane.” I turn and walk back the way I came, even though I actually need to go the other way. My mistake, but I’m not turning around now.

  “Brooklyn, wait.”

  “I have to be somewhere, I don’t have time,” I say with a glance over my shoulder at him. I’m glad I got to clarify that I’m dressed up for a reason. Not for him.

  He catches up to me. “I’m sorry I wasn’t more honest with you. I don’t usually do things that way, but I didn’t know how to tell you.”

  “It’s quite simple. “I don’t want to see you again, Brooklyn.””

  Saying it out loud hurts. It really bloody hurts.

  “Not really. As lame as it sounds, I do like you and I wanted to see you again. I just think we’re looking for different things.”

  “Seriously, Dane,” I stop in place, because I need him gone. “I feel humiliated by you. Not only because of your actions, but because I still gave you a chance when my friend warned me off of you. This conversation is only making me feel worse. I need you to leave me alone.” I continue walking and up my pace, feeling like complete and utter shit. And it isn’t because of him. It’s because I … I just can’t deal with this.

  As my eyes sting with tears I’m not going to allow, I search my handbag and pull out my mobile. I select Owen, but before I press ‘call’, I realize that cancelling my plans will mean being in the apartment alone, which is the last thing I want or need right now.

  I put my phone away and push Dane Sinclair, and all men, out of my head.

  Eleven: Brooklyn

  I push open the studio door and enter, ready to teach my Thursday lunchtime advanced Pilates class. “I’m sorry for the delay,” I say, trying not to be too flustered.

  I see their responding smiles through the mirror as I approach the front, and return the friendly gesture. They were made aware of the flood in the ladies toilets and that I was the only staff member here until ten minutes ago. A couple of them were even nice enough to help me out.

  Standing before the group, I proceed with screening them for injuries, illnesses, and pregnancies. We limit this class to ten people in order to provide a better quality session. Dancers from Release and members of the public attend, it’s always full and today’s no different. The words leave my mouth with ease. I’m so used to saying them they’re imprinted on my memory. But I’m impressed with my ability to conduct this part in my usual manner – when there’s a tall, black guy standing at the back of the room dressed in a fitted, white sleeveless T-shirt and navy running shorts, looking like something off the front page of a fitness magazine.

  What the fuck is Dane doing here?

  I’d never usually ignore a participant, but that’s exactly what he gets as I start the class.

  Somehow, I teach without acknowledging Dane, but with the full awareness that he is in the room and all the details surrounding him; my mind racing through reasons why he’s here, my participants giving full appreciation to the mirror image of him – they’re making no secret of it, either. On top of all that, it’s clear to me he’s never stepped foot in a Pilates class before. You only have to look at him to know he’s probably an expert in the free-weights area of a gym, but that bears no relation to what I do.

  We perform several exercises and as I guide the group into the open leg rocker, which is performed on the mat, my irritation begins to peak. Dane can’t hold the move very well, and it’s making me look bad. I get up as gracefully as I can, with the level of frustration I’m containing, and walk over to him. Thankfully he’s positioned himself away from the others.

  As I approach, he releases his legs and lowers his head onto the mat. His expression is expectant. If he’s reading mine correctly, he’ll know he’s unwelcome. I kneel beside him and get close enough to prevent anyone else hearing me. Keeping my teeth gritted, I say, “You’re making me look bad.”

  His brows pull tight. “I’m making you look bad? Not only am I the only guy here, but I’m the most inflexible person in this room. I’ll handle all the core exercises you wanna throw at me, but my hamstrings can only be pushed so far. You really don’t need to be the one concerned about looking bad.”

  He folds his inked arms behind his head, combining the look of a bad boy and a Calvin Klein underwear model on a billboard to perfection. I dislike him even more for looking so good when I’m this angry. I can imagine him in this very pose wearing nothing but briefs.

  “You’re making me look bad because I’m not helping you and I should be.”

  “So help me then.”

  “I don’t want to. No offence, but I’d actually like you to piss off.”

  “Piss off meaning go away?” I nod, meaning it. “Shit, girl, you really are a feisty thang, aren’t you?” He doesn’t even seem offended.

  “I have a job to do.”

  I stand up and walk back to the front of the class, and proceed as though Dane isn’t present. He stays for the whole fucking session.

  After I bid farewell to the final participant, I pause for a moment, preparing myself, and then turn to face Dane. He strides towards me, and I make a point of not taking in a single detail about his appearance, though I’m fully aware of how out of this world he looks.

  “Why are you here?” I ask without being too hostile. I don’t want this to get aggressive.

  “I wanted to apologize.” He stops beside me and leans sideways against the wall with his arms folded across his chest.

  With the subtle drop of his shoulders, this is the worst posture I’ve seen on him. Maybe I’m be
ing sucked in here, but he looks like he means it. The focus in his gaze, as it meets mine, and the almost humble air about him suggests so.

  I’ve been on the receiving end of many apologies and never seen the sincerity I’m witnessing now. But that’s not the point, is it?

  “No apology necessary. You said it yourself; we’re looking for different things. At least we didn’t waste too much of each other’s time.”

  I can smell him, the non-artificial scent he owns, and I wish to God I couldn’t.

  After walking away from Dane yesterday, I was able to block him out of my thoughts completely. I woke up today feeling the way I did all the mornings before I met him. Seeing him now makes me uncomfortable because, even though I think he’s a knob, I’m still ridiculously drawn to him. I can pretend he doesn’t exist when he isn’t around me. Not so easy when we’re face-to-face. The sooner he leaves the better.

  “I meant what I said. I wasn’t out to play games.”

  “What am I supposed to say to that? There’s no point in us even discussing it. I’m having trouble understanding why you’d come to my class just to say sorry, and why you’d put me in an awkward position by showing up unannounced.”

  “I had no other way of contacting you, and I figured you’d be more likely to talk to me this way than if I showed up after. It wasn’t my intention to make you feel awkward, that didn’t even cross my mind. More importantly, I really am sorry for the pussy-ass way I dealt with things. You deserved better than that, but for some reason I didn’t know how to tell you. It’s not something I usually find hard to do.”

  “Be careful, you’ll have me thinking dropping women who aren’t going to shag you is a full-time habit of yours. Or I might even be stupid enough to consider myself something special because for once you found it difficult.” I finished sarcastically so he doesn’t think I really am that stupid.

  I doubt the words ‘woman’ and ‘special’ fit into the same sentence for guys like Dane.

  His brows rise briefly before drawing together in a frown. “It’s not as cold as that. Yeah, I tell it how it is from the start, but I’m not a jerk about it. I’m not trying to make myself sound like I’m all that, but most of the time it isn’t a problem.

  “On Tuesday it was so obvious you’re not the type of woman I usually hang with, the whole thing seemed pointless. I have enough platonic female friends already, Brooklyn, I’m not looking for any others and since I can barely talk to you without getting hard we’d never make good friends, anyway.”

  I shrug, casually. “Fine, I don’t think we’d make good friends, either. I have plenty of platonic male friends as it is as well. At least we’ve cleared things up. I’d like you to leave now.”

  “I’d like to see you again,” he says, his gaze burning into mine.

  “This is all starting to sound like a load of bollocks. Translated; rubbish – or rather, absolute crap! It’s pointless but you want to see me again.”

  “I said it seemed pointless. Maybe it still is. I’m not all that certain. The one thing I am sure of is that I want to see you again.”

  I stare at him wordlessly. He meant that. Or he’s an expert liar.

  I lean back against the wall and gaze sideways at him. “I didn’t want anything from you, you know? I had no expectations, Dane. I didn’t rock up on Monday looking for a boyfriend – I simply wanted to get to know you. The two things I was positive about were that if you only wanted to get me into bed I wouldn’t be bothering with you again, and you wouldn’t bother with me if that’s all you were interested in and you came to realize it wouldn’t be that way.

  “The main reason I came back on Tuesday was because I thought you’d be honest with me, and I’d always know where I stand with you. I got you wrong.”

  “No you didn’t. My actions sure as shit won’t give you reason to believe otherwise, but you didn’t get me wrong, Brooklyn.

  “I haven’t even had you once and I already want you again. I knew that from the first night in the bar, just like I knew you wanted me too. And you know what, on Monday when you told me you don’t just fuck, it wasn’t even necessary because that was apparent after you spent almost as much time watching me on Saturday night as I did you, and you still left without so much as a glance my way. It’s one of the reasons I didn’t follow you out of the place. If I wasn’t interested in getting to know you we never would’ve exchanged a single word after I concluded that. I wouldn’t have approached you at Baker Beach.

  “All the stuff I’ve asked you, about your family and career, was genuine. I wasn’t faking interest just to get you into my bed. None of this even makes sense to me, Brooklyn, but I’m not too interested in trying to figure it out. I just want you to give me another chance.

  “Look, I need to get back to work,” he holds his hands up, “no bullshit this time, I really do. Fuck, I can’t believe I played it like that,” he says to himself, tucking his hands into his pockets. He sighs. “Will you see me on Saturday, after your show?”

  “I’m going to a club with Kayla,” I lie. It was of course true, until she finally agreed to go out with Chase.

  “Let me give you my cell number, then. I won’t ask you for yours, if you call me then I’ll have it. This right here is in your hands. Although, I can’t say I won’t pull some weird shit like showing up in your class or happening to be outside the theater after your show if you don’t call me.”

  A giggle escapes me before I can stop it. “Please do not come to my class again. This is the only group session I do, and as you discovered for yourself, it’s advanced.”

  “Maybe I need some one-on-one Pilates then.” How someone can look so serious when they’re clearly teasing I do not know.

  “I don’t have time for extra clients, not with the show and my own training.”

  Even though I’m teasing back, I’m also serious. I’m too busy, I won’t waste the free time I do have. I’ve also got to put a lot more thought into seeing Dane than I did the last time. Not conversations with friends, just me, my head, and an overdose of common sense and anything else that’ll help me make the right decision.

  “I’ll think about calling you. I need to clarify a few things for myself,” I tell him.

  “I can’t really ask for more than that.”

  Twelve: Dane

  I’m playing pool with Joe; we’re both on the eight-ball, so it could go either way. We always give each other good competition, but he’s 3-2 up, and I refuse to lose this game.

  Gerard is sitting at a table with a brunette. I am ninety-nine-point-nine percent certain he’ll be fucking her by midnight. It’s nine-fifteen now. The chick he’s with has two friends with her. They were already here when we arrived, and it’s the first time I’ve seen any of them. I don’t like this set up; three of them and three of us. Joe has no interest, so he’s not getting involved, but that doesn’t stop it looking like a balanced arrangement. I’m a little paranoid about it; I feel like everywhere I go there’s somebody who knows me, somebody who’ll talk.

  Who the hell goes from not giving a shit what people think or say about them to feeling uncomfortable in an innocent situation like this in the space of a week?

  I can’t even remember the last time I felt paranoid. Come to think of it, I don’t think I ever have. Not beyond losing my fucking virginity, anyway.

  I haven’t been oblivious to the girlfriends checking Joe and me out in what they think is a discrete way. The Asian girl on the left is my kind of cute, too. If I wanted it, I’d be fucking by midnight, but I’m sure that if Brooklyn hears I’m banging other woman while trying to convince her to give me another shot she’ll tell me to – in her own words – piss off! And she’ll mean it.

  I get that there isn’t anything going down between us, I’m still a free agent who can do what the hell he wants, but if I fail with her it won’t be because of something I do involving other women.

  Fuck, my mental distractions just lost me this game.

  I put
my cue along the bed of the table. “I’m gonna bounce, man,” I say to Joe.

  “Me too,” he says.

  We wave over to Gerard, who couldn’t give a shit if we stay or go. Leaving the bar, we walk in the direction of my apartment building, which is where Joe’s motorcycle is. I zip up my jacket, shielding myself against the night chill, and press my hands into my pockets. There’s a slight drizzle, but not enough for me to give a damn about.

  “What’s up?” Joe asks, as he zips up.

  “I’m just not feeling this tonight.”

  “That’s not like you.”

  “I can’t risk getting into any shit.” His gaze moves to me, a furrow between his dark brows. “I know,” I say, understanding his confusion. “I’m trying to get to know someone, and if she hears new stuff about me it’ll fuck things up. That dance show I went to for Saffron last weekend–dude, you cannot mention this to Adam or my sister.” The problem with Adam is he tells his wife everything, and she does him. That’s great for them, not so cool for me in situations like this. “I spoke to one of the dancers.”

  Joe laughs as he finger combs his hair back from his eyes. “Now I get why Saff can’t know.”

  We cross the intersection. “We’ve done nothing more than talk. She’s all clued up on me.”

  “What?”

  “She’s friends with Kayla and they share an apartment. Kayla’s told her a bunch of stuff about me and warned her to stay away. Brooklyn still showed for breakfast with me on Monday. I wasn’t even sure she would, but she did.”

  “Breakfast?” he asks, a single brow arching.

  “I knew she’d probably say no to anything else, so I came at her with that. Then on Tuesday when we met again I told her I’d call. I said it knowing I didn’t have her number and with no intention of following through.”

  “Duuude, for real? You been taking advice on women from Gerard or somethin’?”

  “It’s fucked up, right? On the first day she was cautious, which made sense with whatever Kayla told her. But there was this determination about her, it was fucking hot. None of that playing hard to get shit, she seemed like she really wanted to protect herself and she had this awesome attitude. When we met on Tuesday, and we were talking, I got to thinking she’s definitely the type who’ll want more from a guy then she’ll get from me, and I didn’t want a messy situation on my hands again. I couldn’t tell her that. She had this look in her eyes and something about it threw me off balance. Then she came to the shop the next day and in a very dignified manner told me I’m an asshole.”