Hero Duty by Jenny Schwartz Page B

flood Sydney Harbour with orange and gold. That was kind of the effect Jessica had on his life.
    The click of a door opening inside the hotel suite broke his reverie. He swung around and paused.
    Jessica stood with one hand on the back of a sofa for balance as she adjusted the fit of a shoe. Her hair was tied up somehow, leaving her shoulders mostly bare above a smoke-grey dress that hugged her curves. The dress covered everything and ought to have looked modest.
    Brodie figured it was his own tamped-down but still burning desire that made the dress look an invitation to sin. It was as if the soft fabric waited to be brushed aside to reveal her body. It tempted and he wanted to succumb.
    He walked in from the balcony. ‘You look beautiful.’
    Her pearl necklace emphasised the purity of her skin. She touched the necklace. ‘It was Mum’s. Pops gave it to her when she turned eighteen. I often wear it for luck, under my shirts. I wore it that day I met you in Jardin Bay. Pearls need a woman’s skin to warm them and keep them alive.’
    So did he. But now wasn’t the time.
    Above the necklace, her face was quiet, composed. Only her eyes showed her strain. Their blue had deepened and dulled, and it wasn’t a trick of the grey dress.
    ‘I feel sick,’ she said.
    He took two quick steps forward.
    She put a hand on her stomach. ‘Nerves. I’m all tensed up. Can we go? I know we’re a few minutes early…’
    Suspense could be more demoralising than the fight itself. Brodie had lived it. ‘Of course. Do I need the tie?’
    She paused in scooping a fluffy pale-purple wrap from the back of the sofa.
    He felt the moment when she truly looked at him.
    Then she looked away, fussing with the fall of the wrap around her bare shoulders. ‘No, it’s a family dinner. If Derek’s wearing a tie, he’ll be the one over-dressed.’
    ‘But you’re glamorous.’ He rolled the tie up and left it on the coffee table. In three steps he caught her up as she headed for the door.
    The scent of her perfume, subtle and exotic, wove an insidious magic.
    ‘I’m wearing battle armour.’ She fumbled with the door handle.
    He had to hold himself back from reaching around her to deal with it. But the gesture would have brought them too close; her back against his front.
    She got the door open. ‘Nerves make me clumsy.’
    ‘Leave it to me.’ He shut the door behind them and checked that the lock had engaged.
    She didn’t wait, but headed for the lift and stabbed the call button.
    When the double doors opened to a half-filled cab, he gave up resisting temptation and put a guiding, possessive hand to her waist, placing himself between her and the lift’s other occupants.
    She stood stiff enough to shatter.
    Reluctantly he dropped his hand, but they still stood closer than strangers or friends.
    The lift doors opened to the foyer and she dashed out as if pursued by wolves. Her high heels clattered on the tiled floor.
    ‘Whoa.’ He caught her elbow as her right foot slipped and used her momentum to swing her into him, steadying her with his strength.
    For a heartbeat she rested there, then pulled away.
    He frowned as he released her. ‘I’ll get the car. You wait here.’
    ***
    Jessica resisted the urge to huddle into the slight warmth of her lavender pashmina. Any comfort would be illusory and not worth the price of people’s curiosity. She remembered to stand tall. The new clothes had been purchased to give her confidence, except their magic had eroded with the scene in the hotel suite.
    Brodie had the trick of making her feel special, as if he shared some part of himself only with her. It lured her in, so that she trusted and took risks she otherwise wouldn’t.
    She would have made love with him that afternoon. Almost had, if the two strangers hadn’t walked down the corridor and broken the moment…
    Reminded where he was and with whom, Brodie had pulled back.
    The pain of that rejection, a fundamental rejection of her feminine