Blame It on the Bikini - By Natalie Anderson Page 0,56

Stress relief.’ Mya stared at him in all his naked glory. What was the man thinking? Why was he changing the rules—why was he offering for her to work with him? As if that were possible? What did he think would happen when he decided he’d had enough of sleeping with her? No way could she take this from him.

‘Look, I made the mistake of going for one job based on a relationship already. I’m not doing it again. James had suggested I apply for an internship at a particular firm last summer.’ She’d been thrilled when they’d both been accepted. ‘But then he found out some of my grades and I took him home to see my parents … and it was like he turned into a different person overnight.’ It wasn’t until later that she learned how average James’s grades really were. ‘But his grades didn’t matter because he was getting a job at the most prestigious accountancy firm in town anyway because his dad was a partner there. Meanwhile I spent my first pay packet in advance buying clothes that might possibly be acceptable to work there, but after he broke up with me, and just before those exams, the company withdrew the offer, saying they had no need for so many interns. So no, I’m not trusting any job offer based on any kind of connection other than merit. I’m not having any kind of relationship interfere with my future.’

‘So you have to earn everything yourself? You can’t accept a gift? I only have money thanks to chance at birth. You can’t take anything from me?’ he asked, completely frustrated.

‘That’s right.’ She wouldn’t take anything from him. Because what he was offering wouldn’t ever be enough. ‘I need to earn it myself.’

‘You have to be so independent, don’t you? You have to be the best,’ he said bitterly. ‘So insanely competitive you’re on the brink of a breakdown from the sleepless nights and caffeine overdoses. Well, why don’t you go ahead and study yourself to death? Then work yourself to death and become a corporate lawyer.’

‘Is that such a crime?’

‘It is when you have huge talent in another area.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t go there.’

‘You should make time for your wearable art. It’s important to you. You should be happy as well as successful.’

That wasn’t what was going to make her happy.

‘It’s something you’re so good at,’ he continued. ‘You should take the opportunity. You should put your work out there.’

‘I can’t.’

‘You’d rather not compete at all rather than come second?’ He shook his head. ‘Is being the best so important to you?’

‘Success requires sacrifice,’ she said firmly. ‘What would you have me do, Brad? Give up all I’ve worked so hard for, to try and scrape a living selling some recycled tat? That’s not realistic. It’s not going to happen. Yes, I love doing that but I also love the law.’

‘So strike a balance.’

‘I can’t yet.’

‘You won’t ever,’ he said, going quiet. ‘There’ll always be something else you feel you have to achieve. Your parents wouldn’t want you to live like this. Your parents want you to be happy.’

‘Don’t talk to me about what my parents want. I know what they need.’ And she was the only one who could help them.

‘You don’t. You can’t face up to what you need, let alone anyone else,’ he argued. ‘You lie to your parents. What’s worse is you lie to yourself. You’re so scared of failing you can’t take any kind of real risk.’

‘And you can?’ So hurt, she poured it all back on him. ‘You’re the one who constantly has to be the epitome of charm. You’re as bad as your parents. You project this perfect façade—all funny and capable and unable to admit to anything being wrong or needing anything. You’re the one who’s scared. You’re the one who can’t take any kind of support.’ She paused and saw he’d gone pale.

He drew in a deep breath but she didn’t give him the chance to try to argue—because there was no argument. ‘We want different things, Brad,’ she said sadly.

He didn’t answer. And she turned and left.

CHAPTER TWELVE

AS DAWN broke on Christmas Day, Gage Simmons pushed his blistered feet and aching back onward. He knocked on the door. She opened it in less than a minute—the woman he wish, wish, wished were his mother. The one he’d walked miles and miles to get to. The one he wanted to stay with. The one who’d shown