Hero Duty by Jenny Schwartz Read Free Book Online Page B

hurting heart. No one loved her. She was no one’s ‘love’. And she’d spent the last eleven years believing she deserved that lack of love. It was what had killed the few relationships in her past. She hadn’t believed she was worth loving. She’d wondered what was wrong with the men who’d wanted to love her.
    The taxi pulled up at a modern hotel in the neighbouring suburb. The large expanse of concrete and glass looked reassuringly impersonal. Any view of the harbour was hidden by the surrounding buildings.
    ‘I thought this would do,’ she said as they unloaded her belongings from the taxi. ‘If you’d prefer somewhere else, maybe a B&B…’ Some of Sydney’s bed-and-breakfasts rivalled Portia’s home for luxury.
    ‘This is fine. As long as you’re happy.’ Brodie slung her backpack over one shoulder and his duffel over the other before picking up the stack of folders. It looked like he was trying to work out a way to juggle her suitcase as well.
    She gripped it firmly. He grinned and slammed the boot lid shut.
    Inside the hotel, the cute, tanned receptionist smiled at Brodie. ‘May I help you?’
    He gestured to Jessica.
    ‘We’d like a suite?’ The question in her voice was for him. Would he mind? It was the best compromise she could think of between separate rooms and having him close if Derek came calling — and Derek would.
    Brodie nodded.
    ‘It doesn’t have to have a view,’ Jessica added hopefully as she handed across her credit card.
    The receptionist smiled at Brodie. ‘All our suites have a view of the harbour.’
    ‘Wonderful,’ Jessica said sourly. She’d escaped the torture of the family home, but not its view. What was so wonderful about sea views anyway?
    The concierge gestured a bellboy forward to take their luggage.
    ‘I’ll hold onto the folders,’ Brodie said.
    Her mouth tightened in rueful realisation that he’d seen the commercial in confidence stamps all over the papers and was protecting them, whereas she’d left them scattered around her room in a house where people hated her. Irresponsible.
    They caught the lift up. The carpet in the corridor smelled new and was a deep blue. 1980s naff.
    The suite was more restrained. Shades of light brown, cream and a grey-blue pre-dominated. The curtains were drawn back, framing an impressive view that she ignored.
    Brodie dumped the folders on the low coffee table and strode forward. ‘Very nice.’
    She tipped the bellboy and, turning around, caught Brodie’s look of approval. She liked it. Although given her lack of practice in graciously accepting a compliment, she very nearly said that she could afford a tip. The tip wasn’t the point; that she thought of others was.
    The door closed behind the bellboy, leaving them alone.
    She fidgeted with the strap of her watch. ‘You choose a room. I’m not fussed.’
    ‘Which makes you the most obliging employer in the history of the world.’
    He sounded critical, which hurt. She shrugged. ‘Sydney isn’t new to me, nor is the view. You should enjoy it.’
    ‘Hmm.’
    While he went on a tour of exploration, she kicked off her sandals by the coffee table and padded barefoot into the kitchen corner. Beside the coffee maker stood a kettle and a selection of teas. She filled the kettle.
    ‘Tea or coffee?’ she greeted his return.
    ‘Tea, please. Milk and one sugar. I’ve taken the brown room to the right. Nice view, but then, all the rooms have. I’ll put your gear in the blue room.’
    She placed their mugs of tea on the coffee table and collapsed into one of the comfortably over-large armchairs.
    Brodie sat on the sofa and reached for his mug.
    The silence stretched.
    ‘So what did you think of my family?’
    ‘I thought you were right to get help in dealing with them.’ A blunt answer, but not hurtful. ‘But I think you’re going to need more help than me. Qualified help. Have you talked honestly with your lawyers? Are they your lawyers and not tied up with your