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half way around the world unless he wanted some kind of relationship with him. He’d virtually said as much.
    What if she could smooth the way before he met his father by facilitating a meeting with his half-brother?
    Annoyed by her prevaricating when she was usually so decisive, she pushed away from her desk and stood. “I’ll be in the main rehearsal room if you need me.”
    Wyatt waved her away without glancing up from his work and she sighed. What she was about to do could either earn her major Brownie points with a guy she’d like to get to know better, or ensure she alienated him once and for all.
    She grabbed her cell, her thumb hovering over Zane’s number. He’d given it to her that first meeting at the airport, yet as she strode from her office and entered the rehearsal room, she still had no idea whether to call him or not.
    “Hey, no cells allowed in rehearsal.” Ashlin O’Meara, her choreographer, snatched the phone out of her hands. “Boss’s rules, remember?”
    “Give me that.” Chantal held out her hand and Ashlin sniggered.
    “You didn’t say the magic word.”
    “I’m not in the mood, Ash.”
    Ashlin must’ve heard something in her tone because rather than prolong the joke, as the Irish dancer with a great sense of humor would usually do, she handed over the cell. “What’s wrong?”
    Being a control freak, Chantal rarely asked for help. When a job needed to be done, she did it. But she could do with some objective advice.
    “I’ve got a bit of dilemma.” Chantal beckoned Ashlin toward a row of chairs that lined the far wall, opposite the unforgiving floor to ceiling mirrors. “It involves a guy I like.”
    Ashlin gaped for a second before recovering her composure. “Come again?”
    Chantal chuckled as they sat. “I know, I know. I like a guy. Sue me.”
    Ashlin held up her hands. “Hey, I’m not judging, babe. I’ve been in a similar drought.”
    “By choice, obviously.” Chantal gestured at Ashlin, with her lithe dancer body encased in a black leotard, her waist-length auburn hair, big blue eyes and flawless complexion. Chantal was comfortable in her own skin but standing next to the classic Irish beauty made her feel a tad insecure at times. “You’re a knockout and you know it.”
    Ashlin punched her lightly on the arm. “Like you couldn’t get a date with a snap of your fingers.” Ashlin clicked hers for emphasis. “Face it, boss. We’re a couple of workaholics who’d rather spend a night here than listening to some guy wax lyrical about the size of his dick.”
    Chantal chuckled. “Now that we’re in agreement we’re a couple of choosy bitches, want to hear my dilemma?”
    “Absolutely.” Ashlin sat on a chair, cross-legged. “Spill.”
    “This is confidential, okay?” Chantal made a zipping motion over her lips and Ashlin nodded.
    “That Aussie guy I’m playing tour guide for is in the States to meet his dad and half-brothers for the first time.” Chantal glanced at her cell again, still no closer to knowing what to do. “And in some huge twist of cosmic fate, turns out one of those half-brothers is my new IT consultant and I’m not sure whether to tell Zane or not.”
    Ashlin tapped a fingernail against her bottom lip. “Why wouldn’t you tell him?”
    “Because he might think I’m interfering?”
    Ashlin made a cute exasperated sound through pursed lips. “Honey, you’re the most decisive person I know and the very fact you’re deliberating this, let alone asking my opinion, means you really like this guy.”
    “He’s hot, that’s all.”
    Ashlin snorted, not buying her feigned nonchalance for a second. “If that’s all it was, you could bang half the guys in Vegas, so what’s the real deal?”
    “He’s…different.”
    Zane’s vulnerability had got to Chantal in a way she hadn’t expected. Guys didn’t share personal stuff. It wasn’t in their DNA. Maybe it was the fact she barely knew Zane and he felt comfortable offloading to