Breaking the Bro Code. Stefanie London

he did. In fact he’d laid both hands, his mouth and everything else he possessed on her. It had been the best night of his life...but boy had he paid. He’d lost his best friend and thrown the kindness the Johnson family had shown him back in their faces.

      Since then he kept things casual, always casual. One-night stands were the preference, though occasionally he let it stretch on to a second or third night. But never longer than that. No one would ever compare to her, so what was the point in trying?

      But there was no way he could let history repeat itself. He wasn’t hanging around and he didn’t want to hurt her. That kind of mistake wouldn’t happen twice.

      ‘Strictly business,’ she said. ‘I don’t want you trying anything funny.’

      ‘You have my word.’ The tension melted out of his muscles, his shoulders dropping down to their normal position.

      She sighed. ‘I still don’t think I’m the right person to help you with this.’

      ‘You are.’ He nodded. ‘I’m sure of it.’

      ‘Fine, let’s meet tomorrow to go over the details and then you can tell me what it is you think I can do.’ She waved a hand as if to dismiss him. ‘I’ve got to get home.’

      ‘Tomorrow it is. We could meet for breakfast?’ He knew she had a weakness for bacon and eggs. Perhaps her favourite food might help her ease into the idea of working with him.

      ‘The old place we used to go on Saturdays.’ A glimmer of a smile crossed her lips.

      ‘The one with the green eggs.’

      She nodded.

      * * *

      He got to the café early, though he told himself it was nothing to do with securing the private little booth down the back. He was a morning person, so it made sense to arrive early. Totally rational behaviour.

      He put in a call to his office, spoke with his executive assistant and his second in charge. Everything seemed to be running smoothly without him, which was exactly what he demanded when he left. The details for his keynote speech had been locked down; his communications person had already started working on the research to back up his presentation. Everything was swimming along.

      Now all he had to do was deal with the not so little problem of his public-speaking phobia. Baby steps—the first thing he needed to do was get Elise to give him some insights into her performance preparation. Then he could figure out which tactics would work for him, and figure out how to practise them in a close-to-real-life scenario. It was how he tackled all of his problems: find someone who was good at what he wanted to do, learn as much as he could, practise over and over, execute.

      He was one of those businessmen who believed firmly in surrounding himself with the very best people his money could buy. Elise was no exception.

      ‘Morning.’ Elise’s voice pulled him into the present.

      She slid into the booth across from him, looking about as stunning as one could so early in the morning. Her golden hair was in disarray, the wispy strands fanning out around her shoulders, kinked in places from sleep. She wore denim shorts and a boldly printed top with straps so thin they looked as though they would break with the slightest tug. A long gold chain hung down past her breasts, weighted by a small gold fan, and he knew without even looking that she’d have that delicate anklet around one slender ankle. Against his will, his heart kicked up a notch.

      ‘You’re looking very spritely,’ he replied, taking a sip of his macchiato and forcing himself not to admire the smooth expanse of skin the summery outfit offered up like a gift from the heavens.

      ‘And if by spritely you mean I rolled out of bed and happened to land on these clothes...then, yes,’ she drawled, smiling up at the waiter as he came to take their order.

      The café was small with their booth offering additional privacy against the other breakfast-goers. They’d spent many a Saturday morning here when Col had first got his licence. He was living with Elise and her family then, and he tried to repay his debts by helping out as much as possible. One of the ways he did that was by ferrying Elise to her ballet lessons on the weekend; they would always come early so she could carb load for a long day of training.

      Those breakfasts with her were the highlight of his week. She’d been oblivious to how he felt about her back then, too busy being a bun-head with her sights firmly set on ballet-world domination. How things had changed...

      ‘So, let’s get down to business,’ she said, pulling a notebook and pen from her bag. She’d come prepared, clearly with the goal of ensuring he stayed true to his word about it being a business-only engagement. ‘What is it you think you want from me?’

      ‘I told you, I need help preparing for a speech.’

      ‘How about some details, Col? Because from here I feel like you’re barking up the wrong tree.’

      He drew a breath. ‘I need some insights into your preparation for going out on stage, what you do for nerves, how you relax and that kind of stuff.’

      She looked at him strangely. ‘I’m usually stretching up against a wall before going on stage, not doing breathing exercises.’

      He knew exactly what she looked like when she stretched; he’d spent many a night growing up trying to ignore the insane flexibility she had. He’d mastered the art of peripheral vision so as not to alert her brother or parents to the fact that he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. It was not an image he needed in his mind right now. Thinking about that would only lead him to feeling like a horny teenager again.

      He shoved the thought aside and ignored the clenching in his stomach. ‘I’m talking about the mental preparation. Breathing exercises, meditation, feng shui...whatever.’

      ‘I don’t know, I kind of slip straight into it...’ She shook her head.

      ‘Come on, Elise. You know damn well there’s more to it than that, I saw you practising all the time when we were growing up. You can help me.’

      His voice had an edge of desperation that irritated him beyond belief. God, how he hated not having the upper hand. But he knew that going in aggressive was not the way to convince Elise to do something; the second she thought someone was backing her into a corner she’d come out fighting like a kung-fu ninja. He’d borne the wounds of that particular mistake before.

      ‘Fine,’ she said, throwing her hands up. ‘What else?’

      ‘I want you to help me prepare for the presentation and I want you to be there when I deliver it.’

      ‘You want me to be in the audience?’ Her brows arched and she tilted her head. ‘Why?’

      ‘Because I know I’ll need it.’

      He shifted in his seat. Col was about as far out of his comfort zone as he could possibly be. Talking about his weaknesses was generally a no-go area; normally when he hired great people to take care of the different aspects of his business it didn’t involve him talking about any personal failings. His palms itched, his leg bounced an uneven beat. He was ready to run, ready to call the conference organisers and tell them that he couldn’t do the speech. It would be easier.

      No, you’re not a quitter. You’re not a failure.

      ‘It’s non-negotiable,’ he said, squaring his shoulders and slipping into work mode. ‘You have to be there on the day, otherwise there’s no point to this deal.’

      She contemplated his demands, plucking at a strand of her golden hair and twirling it around her finger. Her tongue flickered out to the corner of her mouth. She was close to agreeing; he could feel it.

      ‘Any other deal breakers I should be aware of?’

      ‘No.’

      Their breakfast arrived and Col tucked into his scrambled eggs with gusto. Perhaps if he kept his senses busy with a delicious breakfast, he could stop thinking