Bold
Chantal Kramer is a confident, successful businesswoman and running Burlesque Bombshells, the premier dance revue venue in Vegas, is her life.
Until sexy Aussie footballer Zane Harrison arrives in town and turns it upside down.
She doesn’t have time for cocky jocks but as she sees Zane connect with the family he’s never met, she discovers he’s more than just a pretty face.
Zane is in Vegas to meet his father and half-brothers, a part of his family he never knew existed.
He’s determined to forget the sins of his past and forge a new future. With Chantal by his side.
But Chantal knows for Zane to embrace his family the way he deserves, she has to set him free.
As business wars with pleasure, the golden couple discovers love may just conquer all.
BOLD
By
Nicola Marsh
Copyright © Nicola Marsh 2015
Published by Nicola Marsh 2015
All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They’re not distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author and all the incidents in the book are pure invention.
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in any form. The text or any part of the publication may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form without the written permission of the publisher.
The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the word marks mentioned in this work of fiction.
Discover other titles by USA TODAY bestselling & multi-award winning author Nicola Marsh at
Crossing the Line
Towing the Line
Blurring the Line
Before
Brash
Blush
Crazy Love
Lucky Love
The Second Chance Guy
Banish (YA)
Scion of the Sun (YA)
Wicked Heat
Wanton Heat
Not the Marrying Kind
Busted in Bollywood
“Marriage is for suckers.” Chantal Kramer raised her glass to the hottest guy she’d had the pleasure of drinking with in a long time. A sexy Aussie footballer that had landed in Vegas yesterday and had been a fellow witness at her BFF’s wedding today. “An outdated institution for romantic schmucks hell-bent on ruining their lives.”
Zane Harrison, a taller, blonder version of Hugh Jackman, tapped his beer bottle against her glass. “I’ll drink to that.”
“I knew I sensed a kindred spirit when you seemed bored during most of the ceremony.” She drained her glass and gestured at Dave, her favorite barman, for a refill. “Can you believe those two had a quickie Vegas wedding?”
Zane shrugged, drawing attention to impressively broad shoulders. “I only know Reid through Jack, and not very well, so I haven’t got a clue why he’d marry Adele so quickly.”
“She’s pregnant.” Though Chantal knew that wasn’t the reason her best friend and her cousin had got hitched so quickly.
Adele and Reid were head over heels in nauseating love. The kind of love that transcended boundaries. The kind of love that forgave Adele’s escort past. The kind of love that made Reid give up his fast track to the senate to be a family guy with the woman he adored.
And while Chantal openly ridiculed the apparent depth of emotion that caused two sane people to tie the knot, deep down she admitted to a touch of envy.
She may despise marriage and all it entailed, but she’d give all the spangles in her booming business to have a guy look at her the way Reid looked at Adele.
Zane tilted his head, studying her, as if he knew she was bullshitting. “They’re old enough not to have Adele’s dad come after Reid with a shotgun.”
“Yeah, but both of them didn’t have happily married parents growing up, so I guess they want their kid to have that.”
“Makes sense.” Zane nodded, staring at his beer bottle like he expected a genie to pop out. “I should know.”
Intrigued that the macho football player she’d only met yesterday would divulge anything beyond the superficial, she glanced around her club, Vegas’s premier revue venue Burlesque Bombshells, pretending like she wasn’t curious when it was eating her up inside.
In fact, Zane had more than piqued her interest at the airport yesterday when Reid had asked her to play tour guide for the visiting Aussie and she’d wanted to know more ever since. But he’d begged off on her offer for a quickie last night—tour, that is, worse luck—and they’d barely exchanged pleasantries before the wedding today.
She wanted to know more, for the simple fact she hadn’t cared enough to talk to a guy in ages, let alone want to do anything else.
“Your parents are divorced?”
The frown she’d spotted during the ceremony returned, doing little to mar his rugged good looks. Tanned, strong jaw, standout cheekbones, and lips that could tempt the most hardened cynic—like her.
“My dad travelled for work a lot. Fell in love with a woman over here. Ditched my mum, my brother and me, started a new family.”
His audible bitterness made her want to hug him. “That’s why I’m here.”
“To punch his lights out?”
One corner of his delectable mouth quirked. “To meet my dad for the first time. And my half brothers.”
Something niggled at the back of her mind…the surname Harrison…and then it clicked.
“Kurt Harrison is your half brother?”
“Yeah.”
Chantal mouthed ‘wow’. Kurt was an NFL superstar. Men envied him, women adored him. A dead ringer for Joe Mangianello, he graced billboards across the country, with endorsements that could keep him in gold boots until he was a hundred.
His eyes narrowed, judging her. “You’re a fan?”
“If I say yes, will you leave me drinking here alone?”
His wry grin eradicated the tension bracketing his mouth. “No. Because I’d need to spend the next hour indoctrinating you into the many ways Australian Rules Football is superior to your pansy-arsed game.”
She laughed, finding his sense of humor as appealing as the rest of him. “Here’s a tip. Don’t let that be your opening line with Kurt.”
“I’ll take that on board.” Zane drained the rest of his beer, before placing the empty bottle on the table between them. “Actually, I’m here on the pretext of looking into kicker positions with NFL teams. A few ex-AFL players have been successful over here.”
He made it sound like he’d rather dance on stage in a burlesque costume than play NFL.
“AFL?” She was clueless regarding sporting codes overseas but if all Aussie football players looked like Zane, maybe she needed to fast track her education.
“Australian Football League, our national comp.”
He didn’t smirk at her dumbass question, another thing she liked about him. Since they’d met he hadn’t just ogled her boobs and ass, he’d actually spoken to her like she had half a brain, which is more than most of the bozos who frequented her club did.
Increasingly intrigued by this guy, she said, “Why did you say you’re using the NFL gig as a pretext?”
“It’s the only way I could think of to get my dad’s attention.” He looked away, but not before she glimpsed a hint of sorrow. “An in.”
Her heart gave an annoying twang. When Reid had first bullied her into playing tour guide for Zane, she’d agreed because the guy was eye-poppingly hot and she was in the middle of the longest man drought in history—by choice.
For some reason, Zane had made her re-evaluate that choice. She didn’t need to get laid but Zane made her want to. She’d thought bringing him back to Burlesque Bombshells for post-wedding drinks would fuel the spark between them that had ignited at the airport when they’d first met. Which red-blooded male could resist being surrounded by the overt sensuality that her club exuded?
Crimson velvet draped everything, from the windows to the walls. Strategically placed beveled mirrors reflected the lushness back at the patrons: black silk tablecloths and matching covered chairs filled the spacious room, a dazzling chrome bar ran the length of the back wall, and crystal chandeliers dotted the high ceilings.
Prudish people called her pride and joy a strip joint. She didn’t care. Because burlesque was beautiful, an art form born in Paris and performed at her venue by the best dancers in Vegas. Bombshells was elegant, classy and incredibly sexy. Just like her, she hoped Zane would think.
But the hot Aussie didn’t seem interested in doing the horizontal shimmy with her. And his honest admissions about his family made her feel deeper emotions she didn’t want to: pity, and worse, empathy.
If anyone knew about broken families, she did. The resultant fallout had molded her into the woman she was today: resourceful, ambitious, ballsy. A woman who knew what she wanted and made it happen.
Tonight, she wanted Zane. But the pain shimmering in the depths of his gorgeous hazel eyes spoke louder than anything he’d said. The guy was hurting and the last thing he seemed interested in was a fling.
His hand on top of hers made her jump. “Sorry for boring you. Sob stories aren’t my usual style.”
Trying to ignore the little sparks of electricity shooting up her arm from his simple touch, she smiled. “Weddings will do that every time, turn the most resilient of us into emotional wrecks.”
He wrinkled his nose. “You make me sound like a woman.”
“Nothing wrong with a guy being in touch with his feminine side.” She stared at his large hand covering hers, trying to ignore the old cliché echoing through her head, ‘big hands, big feet, big…’ “Though if you suddenly don a feather boa or two, I’ll start to worry.”
His laugh made her belly clench with desire. Spontaneous. Deep. Natural. Like him.
There was something infinitely appealing about Aussie men. They were without artifice. Their bluntness appealed to her low tolerance for BS.
“So you own this place, huh?” He glanced around, his gaze astute. “Impressive.”
“I like to think so.” She almost preened under his praise. “Started as a dancer here, did some clever investing, ended up buying the place.”
“Smart and beautiful.” He squeezed her hand and damned if her heart didn’t twang again.
Not good. If anything twanged it could never be her heart so she did what she always did when emotion threatened to derail her. Switched to seductress.
“You forgot talented,” she said, turning her hand over beneath his to run a fingernail from his wrist to his middle finger, then circled his palm in slow, concentric circles.
His sharp intake of breath alerted her to the fact that maybe Zane would be up for more than talking tonight after all.
Emboldened, she slid her hand out from under his to place both forearms on the table and lean forward, well aware of the cleavage on display from the deep V of her emerald satin sheath.
“I like you, Zane Harrison.”
“I like you too.” The gold specks in his hazel eyes glowed. “And that’s why I’m heading back to my hotel now instead of ravaging you all night long.”
Heat streaked through her body at the thought of this big, beautiful guy ravaging her any time. “I don’t get it.”
“Haven’t you heard? Anticipation is the best foreplay.” He stood, leaned down to brush a too-brief kiss on her lips, before turning his back on her and walking away.
Leaving her frustrated, annoyed and incredibly horny, while her dumb-ass heart applauded.
Zane stalked the Strip, surrounded by the glitz of luxury hotels, glam casinos and massive malls. Tourists streamed passed him, pausing to gawk at mega fountains or elaborate shows. Limos cruised by, as flashy as the rest of this place.
Usually, he’d be in the thick of it, reveling in the cosmopolitan atmosphere. Not tonight.
He had too much to mull. Starting with the ridiculous idea he had of reuniting with his dad and ending with the way he’d stuffed up with Chantal.
He had no idea what had possessed him to unburden like that, to dump his pathetic story on her. One minute they’d been flirting at Reid and Adele’s wedding, the next he was blurting his sorry family tale.
As for her overt come-on…it had been sheer, torturous hell walking away from the stacked, tall, leggy blonde when she’d wanted him as much as he wanted her.
All that foreplay anticipation bullshit had been just that: bullshit. Because he knew the real reason he’d run when he could’ve been buried deep inside her right now.