Cross-Checked (12 page)

“Well, congratulations, Mary,” I said. “I hope you have a lovely time.”

“Oh, I already am,” she said, draining the champagne and holding the empty glass up to the waiter. “One of the lovely soccer boys has promised me a dance later. I can’t wait.” She glanced over my shoulder and waggled her fingers by her ear.

I turned and looked at the table behind me, which held several of the Florida pro soccer team. One of them, older than the others, waved back at Mary, his smile genuine and warm.

“That’s nice,” I said.

“Yes,” she said, glugging on a fresh glass of bubbly. She leaned in close. “His name is Philip, he used to play but now he’s a coach. His divorce just came through.” She dropped her voice. “His wife ran off with a political writer from Washington apparently. Said Philip was too left wing for her and she didn’t know how she’d been married to him for all these years when their political views were clearly so different.”

“I don’t believe that for a minute,” Mary said with a shake of her head. “She was obviously taken with someone and just had to come up with an excuse other than she wanted a good fuck.”

My brows rose. Mary looked the sort to bake pecan pie, darn socks and run the local gardening club. The word fuck spilling from her thin pink lips just didn’t seem right.

“You know,” she said, giving me an exaggerated wink, “a good seeing to in the bedroom, a bit of cock—”

“Yes, yes,” I interrupted. “I know what you mean.”

“Sorry.” She pulled her mouth down, took a sip from her just-filled wine, then smiled at a waiter as he set down a fresh lobster salad starter. “I get a bit excited when I’m let out. I have five kids at home, three of them are teenagers now, a help and a hindrance around the house. Timmy and Suzy are twins, they’re six, a bit of a surprise to tell the truth, thought I was done with all that nonsense.”

“You have twins?” Steve asked, leaning right across me.

“Yes, they’re six, always on the go,” Mary said, clicking open a gaudy black sequined purse. “Here they are.” She passed over a small photo of two smiling kids, both with mousy hair curled like hers and dressed in neat school uniforms with a gold anchor logo.

Steve took the photo. “They look like a lot of fun,” he said. “We just found out last week we’re expecting twins.” He handed the photo back with a smile bursting with male pride, as though twins proved his sperm were of extra special strength—two for one.

“Oh congratulations,” Mary said, her eyes sparkling. “Truly they are a blessing, once, you know, you get over the hard bit, but then again it’s not you having to carry them is it?”

Steve rubbed a hand over the complaining buttons on his suit jacket. “No, thank goodness, but Ness is coping brilliantly.”

I speared a thick flake of lobster and popped it in my mouth. It was good, meltingly soft and flavored with a hint of paprika.

“And where is she tonight?” Mary was asking over my plate. “Your wife, Ness?”

“Oh she’s with her mom. They’re having a knitting night. Making blankets, sipping iced tea and talking about babies and childbirth.” He raised his beer and took a slurp.

Mary filled her mouth with lobster and lettuce. Chewed madly. “And have you started the nursery yet?”

I sat back in my chair as Steve described the trauma of painting vertical stripes using masking tape. A plate of grilled chicken and asparagus was set before me. As I tucked in and listened to decorating tips, my mind wandered. It wandered to table eight even though I’d told it not to. Before I knew it I was studying the back of Phoenix’s head. His thick curls licked over his white shirt collar and just touched the tuxedo jacket he wore. Next to him sat his wife, Brooke. I could see her in profile—pretty and smiley in a black velvet number that showed off her voluptuous cleavage. A single diamond sat just below the hollow of her neck and her hair, like mine, was piled high on her head. I watched as Phoenix slipped a hand from her shoulder to the base of her back. He leaned across and said something into her ear then touched his lips to the side of her neck. She turned to him and her eyes melted when she smiled. It was as though time stood still when he was touching her, whispering into her ear. I wanted that. I wanted that heart-stopping, time-stopping moment with Brick. Suddenly it seemed so unfair that my time with him was over before it had really begun.

My heart lurched and my eyes stung. I blinked, took a deep breath and bit off the end of an asparagus tip. Next to Brooke sat Ramrod. Huge and handsome and eating as though it was his last chance to fill up. Beyond him was Wolf, the new guy, though he didn’t look it. His wide shoulders were relaxed and easy. His face, though sharp and angled, was stress free. He raised a toast to the table then knocked back a bottle of beer.

I caught my breath as a wave of intense irritation washed over me. Mae French, stunning as always, in salmon pink and a collection of casual but no doubt extortionately expensive jewelry. Hair tousled and messy, but not so much that it didn’t look as if those long blonde locks hadn’t had some kind of expert attention. She had the kind of look no one else could go for and get away with. Cool yet stunning, individual yet effortless. I hated her. I crossed my knife and fork, meal barely eaten, appetite gone.

More than anything, I hated the fact that next to her sat Brick. His head was tipped to the chandeliers and he was draining a beer. I clasped my fingers in my lap. Watched as he placed the bottle on the starched tablecloth, licked a drip from his top lip and turned to me.

My breathing stopped. He looked devastatingly handsome in his tux but his right eye was terrible. Bruised and swollen, the lids puffed tight. Beneath the lower lid sat a perfect curve of black and purple. It looked painful and sickening on his beautiful face. I’d been right to be so worried.

Dragging in a deep, juddering breath, I knew I should look away, turn from his heavy gaze.

He was with Mae, so why the hell was he staring at me?

Thank god he is.

I held his stare, reached for my champagne, took a sip and replaced it without taking my gaze from his. I didn’t smile. I wanted to make him feel uncomfortable about the fact that he’d brought his ex to the ball. I wanted him to squirm because he hadn’t called after I’d given him an amazing blowjob and left him tied to a bed. I didn’t look away because it was the first time I’d looked at him since admitting to myself that I’d fallen in love with him.

But he didn’t squirm and he didn’t look uncomfortable. He just carried on staring at me, watching me. Phoenix said something to him and he nodded briskly, his gaze not leaving mine.

The hairs on the back of my neck prickled and suddenly
I
wanted to squirm, his scrutiny of me was so intense. It was as if he could see right into my soul, see how desperate I was feeling.

Straightening my spine, I scolded myself. I had to play it cool. I clearly still interested him even if he had brought
her
. She reached over him for a water pitcher all the time talking animatedly to Wolf. Brick didn’t even glance her way. It was strange, he didn’t seem bothered if she saw him studying me.

“Miss.” A waiter stretched his hand over my shoulder. “Have you finished?”

I pulled my gaze from Brick, enormously grateful for the waiter’s sudden appearance. It gave me a chance to break our connection without looking as though I’d weakened. “Yes, thanks.”

The waiter lifted the plate away.

“So, Carly,” Steve said. “Are you in training for anything at the moment?”

“No, not really, just keeping up fitness levels until the U.S. nationals come around.” My mouth was moving, words were coming out, but my mind was on Brick.

“Oh so what does that involve? Keeping up fitness?”

A chocolate torte was set before me. “Just stamina stuff, thirty or fifty miles several times a week out on the roads, swimming, I run sometimes too, on the treadmill.”

“Where do you swim?”

“At the Cory Center near Richmond Hills.” I wondered if Brick was still staring at me.

“Yeah, I know that place.” He paused as he scooped in a large mouthful of chocolate torte. “It has an Olympic pool doesn’t it?”

“Yes and diving boards.”

“You like to dive?” he asked.

“No, not really my thing.”

“Mmm, I did it for a while, but it turned out I was much better at swimming. I might be lean and agile but I’m incredibly strong too.” He nodded to my dessert. “You want that?”

“No, I’m not hungry.” How could I be expected to eat when the man I was in love with sat only a few tables away with another woman?

“Can I have it? I’m starved. A tiny bit of lobster and chicken does not fill me up.”

“Sure, go ahead.”

“Oh, oh, look,” Mary said. She was jiggling in the chair next to me. “The auction is about to start.”

Steve swapped my full plate for his empty one and I sat back as the auctioneer took to the stage. My eyes were desperate to swing back to Brick to see if he was still looking my way. It felt as if he was. I’d become used to his gaze on my body, aware of the tingling sensations that swept over me whenever he looked at me. I could feel them now, all over. Inside and out.

The hammer banged down and the room fell silent. “Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the Promises and Dreams Sport Star Auction.”

There was a round of applause and a couple of whoops from the hockey and soccer tables.

“As you all know, we’re raising money for the children of Florida. We want to give the sick and underprivileged the same delightful experiences of childhood other children take for granted. So if you can all dig deep, including our most welcome telephone bidders at the back, it would be very much appreciated.” He banged his hammer down and grinned. “First lot, please.”

A serious-looking guy in a brown suit walked onto the stage holding up a hockey shirt in a heavy wooden frame.

“Lot number one is a shirt signed by every single one of the Orlando Vipers. I’m going to start the bidding at two thousand dollars.”

Straightaway two hands went up.

“Two thousand five.” The auctioneer pointed his hammer at a lady in a red dress at the front. “Do I have three?” He scanned the room. “Three thousand, gentleman to the right. Do I have three and a half?” The lady at the front nodded. “Three and a half. Four, anyone?” His hammer swung in my direction and I turned. Someone on a mobile phone had lifted their hand. “Four, telephone bidder. Do I have four and a half?” The gentleman lifted his hand. “Four and a half. Anyone for five, come on, it’s a great cause.” The woman shook her head. “Think of the kids,” he said. “Can anyone give me five?” His hammer swung again. “Five at the back.” He looked down at his other bidder. “Can you offer me five and a half?” The guy shook his head. “Five thousand dollars for the Orlando Vipers signed shirt. Going once, going twice, any other bidders?” His gaze scanned the glittering tables. Finally his hammer banged down. “Gone, lot number one, to the telephone bidder at the back.”

My head spun. He’d made five thousand dollars for the charity in thirty seconds. What an amazing achievement. I watched the shirt being carried off as the basketball signed by the Magic was brought on. The same whirlwind of bidding ensued and it finally went for eight thousand dollars. Harry Anderson’s dog tag was next. Steve made an attempt at bidding, but he stopped at three thousand and it eventually went for four. Still I didn’t look at Brick, and when the auction came to an end and I hadn’t so much as glanced back at table eight, I congratulated myself on my self-control. It had nearly killed me but I’d done it.

The chairman of the Promises Foundation stepped behind the auctioneer’s box and praised the generosity of the public. He went on to commend the athletes’ generosity of spirit and time and mapped out how the money would be spent. Then he pushed his hands through his graying hair and beamed at the audience. “And can we please welcome, all the way from the UK, tonight’s very special surprise guests.” He paused and tugged at his bow tie. “Taking a detour on their U.S. tour just to entertain you. Please, ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together, put your hands together loud and clear and let’s hear it for The Manic Machines.”

It was as if there’d been an explosion in the room. Hands clapped, whoops of delight shook the chandeliers and people scraped back chairs to run to the dance floor. The lights dipped low and the stage curtains swished back revealing a drummer, two guitarists and a singer.

“Good evening, Orlando,” shouted the impossibly gorgeous singer, waving a hand in the air. “I hope you’re all having a great time.”

A chorus of cheers rose.

“So what are we waiting for? Let’s get dancing,” he shouted into his microphone. “I hope you like this one, it’s just hit number one in the UK.”

A tall guitarist with floppy dark hair shoved down on his strings. The intro of a tune I’d been humming earlier swirled around me and the dance floor was suddenly swamped. People pushed and jigged and swung one another about as the singer blasted out the first lines.

I pushed back my chair. “Excuse me,” I said above the noise to Steve. Mary was already in the center of the floor, wriggling her hips and swaying her arms with Philip in a wild rock-chick kind of way.

I headed to the ladies’, pushed heavily through the swinging door and stood with my head in my hands in a cubicle for several long minutes. I didn’t think I could cope seeing Brick dance with Mae. I wished I’d had the chance to talk to him in private, without my emotions threatening to bubble in front of
her
. But it was too late for that. I’d have to go back out there. I couldn’t just walk out of the hotel.

Or maybe I could. Who would notice?

No. I couldn’t give in. That wasn’t me. I’d never given up on anything in my entire life. I would stay. I would have a good time, or at least give the illusion of having a good time.

Quickly I powdered my nose and reapplied my now favorite raspberry red lipstick. Tucked in a stray strand of hair and smoothed down my dress. I looked good, even if I said so myself. Mae looked good, sure. But underneath my dress I was a professional athlete, every part of my body honed and toned to perfection. I took a deep breath and forced my shoulders down, dragged my confidence back up to an acceptable level. I might not be about to launch a fabulous singing career, but I had other skills to my name, including Olympic skills.