with the right clothes.’
‘I can’t compete with Portia. She’s made a life’s work out of looking good.’
‘She looks like a starving greyhound.’
Jessica choked.
‘How hard can it be?’ he continued. ‘You have the money to outspend her. All we need to do is find an expensive clothes shop.’
‘Is that all?’ She pushed her drink aside. ‘I hate being stared at. I look like a giantess in fashionable clothes and heels.’
‘A Valkyrie.’
‘Pardon?’
He waved a dismissive hand, but she stayed focussed. ‘Do you really see me as some warrior female? Me?’
‘The potential’s there.’ He assessed her breasts.
They tingled.
She clicked her fingers near her eyes, indicating that he should look up.
He did and grinned. ‘Your stepmother brainwashed you. You’re tall, yeah. So are models. You’re gorgeous, babe. Accept it.’
It was too much to cope with. Too revolutionary. ‘I don’t have time. Shopping takes hours.’
‘I’ve noticed that.’
She grimaced, reminded of his previous girlfriends. They wouldn’t have gone to dinner with him to be lectured on improving their appearance. She pulled herself up. Those women hadn’t hired him as an emotional bodyguard. He was doing his job and thinking more clearly than her. ‘The clothes would be like armour.’
‘Exactly.’
‘Okay, well I guess I could make time.’ She’d stay up late tonight to at least skim the remaining papers. There were a couple of them that had to be signed and returned to Numbat headquarters by the weekend.
‘Your herb bread.’ Their waiter was back.
‘Thanks.’ Brodie offered her the basket, then took a piece himself. ‘Did Derek or Portia call, leave a message?’
She concentrated on the toast, the crisp crust, butter-soaked middle and scattering of parsley, basil, oregano and could it be marjoram? ‘Two missed calls, one each. Both left messages that I should call them. Then Derek texted me. He wants to know where we’re staying. It was a good idea to leave my phone off.’ She’d also missed calls from Joe and a couple of other corporate-types at Numbat. They were all chasing her for decisions and papers to sign now that she was chairperson. It was probably cowardice that she hadn’t responded to those, either. She preferred to think it was courtesy: not intruding in their out-of-office hours.
The pressure on her, though, grew with each contact.
‘Will you call them?’
She wiped her buttery fingers on a serviette. ‘I texted Derek the name of the hotel, then I turned the phone off again.’
‘Sacrificing use of your phone isn’t a long-term strategy,’ Brodie said. ‘Think of it as teaching them that you don’t dance to their tune.’
‘I think they’ll be slow learners. Look, can we not talk about them or my situation? I’d like to eat without indigestion.’
‘Fair enough. More bread?’
‘No, thanks.’
The violin music had changed to Spanish guitar, although she had to strain to hear it through the rising buzz of the busy restaurant.
‘Was it hard?’ she said suddenly.
Brodie leaned forward. ‘Pardon?’
She leaned forward, too. ‘Standing against all your friends in the army to take Sonia’s back. Was it hard?’
His face shut down, expression wiped.
‘Please. I’m not trying to intrude. I…how did you find the strength to stand against everyone?’
‘I wasn’t standing alone.’ He relaxed and emotion showed again: a hint of tiredness and determination. Conviction. ‘The army — hell, all the military — is against sexual harassment, discrimination, whatever form the disrespect and abuse takes. There are plenty of guys serving who hate that rubbish. But the culture remains blokey. You’re training to go into combat and you know that your life is going to depend on being able to trust the guys around you. So you build that bond.’
She nodded. ‘But isn’t there a flipside to that? No, not a flipside. There’s been research...’
‘Your
‘I can’t compete with Portia. She’s made a life’s work out of looking good.’
‘She looks like a starving greyhound.’
Jessica choked.
‘How hard can it be?’ he continued. ‘You have the money to outspend her. All we need to do is find an expensive clothes shop.’
‘Is that all?’ She pushed her drink aside. ‘I hate being stared at. I look like a giantess in fashionable clothes and heels.’
‘A Valkyrie.’
‘Pardon?’
He waved a dismissive hand, but she stayed focussed. ‘Do you really see me as some warrior female? Me?’
‘The potential’s there.’ He assessed her breasts.
They tingled.
She clicked her fingers near her eyes, indicating that he should look up.
He did and grinned. ‘Your stepmother brainwashed you. You’re tall, yeah. So are models. You’re gorgeous, babe. Accept it.’
It was too much to cope with. Too revolutionary. ‘I don’t have time. Shopping takes hours.’
‘I’ve noticed that.’
She grimaced, reminded of his previous girlfriends. They wouldn’t have gone to dinner with him to be lectured on improving their appearance. She pulled herself up. Those women hadn’t hired him as an emotional bodyguard. He was doing his job and thinking more clearly than her. ‘The clothes would be like armour.’
‘Exactly.’
‘Okay, well I guess I could make time.’ She’d stay up late tonight to at least skim the remaining papers. There were a couple of them that had to be signed and returned to Numbat headquarters by the weekend.
‘Your herb bread.’ Their waiter was back.
‘Thanks.’ Brodie offered her the basket, then took a piece himself. ‘Did Derek or Portia call, leave a message?’
She concentrated on the toast, the crisp crust, butter-soaked middle and scattering of parsley, basil, oregano and could it be marjoram? ‘Two missed calls, one each. Both left messages that I should call them. Then Derek texted me. He wants to know where we’re staying. It was a good idea to leave my phone off.’ She’d also missed calls from Joe and a couple of other corporate-types at Numbat. They were all chasing her for decisions and papers to sign now that she was chairperson. It was probably cowardice that she hadn’t responded to those, either. She preferred to think it was courtesy: not intruding in their out-of-office hours.
The pressure on her, though, grew with each contact.
‘Will you call them?’
She wiped her buttery fingers on a serviette. ‘I texted Derek the name of the hotel, then I turned the phone off again.’
‘Sacrificing use of your phone isn’t a long-term strategy,’ Brodie said. ‘Think of it as teaching them that you don’t dance to their tune.’
‘I think they’ll be slow learners. Look, can we not talk about them or my situation? I’d like to eat without indigestion.’
‘Fair enough. More bread?’
‘No, thanks.’
The violin music had changed to Spanish guitar, although she had to strain to hear it through the rising buzz of the busy restaurant.
‘Was it hard?’ she said suddenly.
Brodie leaned forward. ‘Pardon?’
She leaned forward, too. ‘Standing against all your friends in the army to take Sonia’s back. Was it hard?’
His face shut down, expression wiped.
‘Please. I’m not trying to intrude. I…how did you find the strength to stand against everyone?’
‘I wasn’t standing alone.’ He relaxed and emotion showed again: a hint of tiredness and determination. Conviction. ‘The army — hell, all the military — is against sexual harassment, discrimination, whatever form the disrespect and abuse takes. There are plenty of guys serving who hate that rubbish. But the culture remains blokey. You’re training to go into combat and you know that your life is going to depend on being able to trust the guys around you. So you build that bond.’
She nodded. ‘But isn’t there a flipside to that? No, not a flipside. There’s been research...’
‘Your
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