Playing It Close (13 page)

Maybe she wasn’t thinking
arsehole.
Did countesses think like that?

Liam cut a bite of his garden-on-a-plate. “We stayed at the same hotel in Venezuela last month. The staff all treated her like royalty, so I asked who she was.
Countess Chambers
, I was told.”

“Liam, stop.” Tess’s face was carefully blank, but she couldn’t hide the anger in her eyes any more than he could stop himself.

Charlie nudged her, a big dopey grin on his perfectly groomed, probably moisturized face. “You told me you hadn’t seen him there.” Turning to Liam, he asked, “How did you find it? Was the lodge acceptable? Did they explain to you how they’ve set up collectives so the staff are all co-owners? Or did they show you the way they recycle rainwater so it’s used three times over in various ways throughout the lodge?”

“It was a lovely hotel. I have to say, your company’s services were surprising. I never expected such...hospitality from a tour operator before.”
Your wife gave me the most amazing blowjob of my life
,
and that’s saying something
,
mate.

Charlie didn’t seem to pick up on the subtext, but Tess did. “Liam, that’s enough. I’m not a countess. You’ve grasped the wrong end of the stick.”

“I guess that’s happened to me quite a bit recently, hasn’t it?”

Fuck. And now he’d revealed more than he’d intended to. Shrugging, he took a bite. “Anyway, it was a nice enough holiday. Not my best, but definitely top twenty.”

Frank coughed. “Liam—”

But Charlie interrupted. “No, that’s okay. I’m always eager to know how we can improve. Tell me—what would’ve made your holiday better?”

Not waking up alone.
He stared at Tess, the baffled hurt he’d felt when he read her note swiftly returning. He’d spent the rest of his week in Venezuela obsessing about signs he might’ve missed, things he could have been doing with Tess instead of on his own, when he should’ve been focusing on healing from his grief.

Tess shook her head almost imperceptibly, her eyes pleading as she whispered, “Please, stop. You’re just—”

“Companionship, Charlie. It would’ve been better if you’d provided me with some companionship. Without it, my holiday was—” he cut a glance at Tess, “—utterly forgettable.”

Chapter Eight

Forgettable?
Tess had been trying to stop him before he made a fool out of himself, but now the bastard was on his own.

And, judging by the aghast expressions on his girlfriend’s and his CEO’s faces, he was as alone as alone could be. “Liam...mate...” Mr. Swan’s nervous chuckle turned into a choking cough until he picked up his wineglass and swilled it down in one.

Charlie seethed next to her. “Are you saying you expected your hotel room to come equipped with a prostitute?”

Liam blinked, seeming to come awake as if doused by a bucketful of frigid water. “Wait, what?”

“I’m sure that wasn’t what he intended,” Mr. Swan said so emphatically that it was obvious that was
exactly
what he thought Liam had intended.

“No—”

“Why don’t you explain it to me, then?” Charlie took the cloth serviette off his lap and tossed it onto the table. He leaned back and waited. Poor man wouldn’t be used to that kind of talk.

Tess, sadly, was. She’d launched her blog after a dozen of the most successful traders had been given a special Christmas bonus: a trip to an exclusive ski resort in Austria where they were entertained by prostitutes all weekend. Their manager had written it off as a hospitality expense. Based on job performance, Tess should’ve been on that trip. She hadn’t been invited—not that she would’ve wanted to be. The whole thing was disgusting and insulting, and she would be sick if it turned out she’d started to fall for someone just like the scum dogs she used to work with.

“I—” Liam leveled her with another stare. His jaw hardened, and she realized in a blaze of understanding that he hadn’t been referring to a prostitute. He’d been referring to her...but in the same terms as a prostitute.

Her chair scraped against the floor, piercing her eardrums as she pushed it back. “If you’ll excuse me a moment.”

She walked around the corner to the toilet, Liam’s gaze burning her back. She shoved the toilet door open, walked straight to the sink and gripped the edge, letting her head drop forward as disgust crept up the back of her spine.

Forgettable.
He’d called her forgettable. Of course, he was a professional athlete. His girlfriends—like tonight’s reality-check, Samantha Hughes—had a lot more in the way of personal assets than she did, if one looked only at their outward appearances. Maybe their inward appearances too. For all Tess knew, Samantha was a lovely person who devoted her free time to feeding orphans and saving abused circus animals. Maybe Tess really did pale in comparison.

If that was the case, she’d hate to see how eager Liam was in the sack with his usual lovers, because he’d been incredibly thorough with her.

The door clicked open, and Tess drew in a deep breath, ready to pretend that she was okay in front of a stranger. But when she lifted her head, Charlie’s concerned eyes met hers in the mirror.

“What’re you doing in the ladies’ loo?”

“Making sure you’re okay. Tessy—”

She pretended nonchalance and washed her hands.

“Tessy, did something happen between the two of you?”

She smiled and told the story that she was going to have to start forcing herself to believe. “No. Nothing.”

His lips compressed as if he didn’t quite believe her but wasn’t willing to push her. “What do you think we should do about the sponsorship, then?”

Run away as fast as we can.
But this was Charlie’s business, and he’d saved her by giving her a job. He trusted her to do the best for his company, and she would never sell him short. “I think I need to see what they’re proposing. After that, I can give you a better answer.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “All right, then. If you’re sure you’re okay?”

“Of course. Come on, Charlie, it would take a lot more than a crude comment from some oversexed jock to get me worked up.” Sleeping with him, though—that’d do it. “Now leave so I can wee, please.”

“Uh, you just washed your hands.”

Ah. So she had. She shrugged. “You know women. We like to be extra clean.”

* * *

“What the
fuck
are you playing at, Cally?”

Liam took a sip of his water and tried to ignore the twin glares coming from either side of him. His throat was so parched he could barely speak. What the hell had he just said? He never meant to insinuate that he’d wanted his holiday company to supply him with prozzies, but obviously that’s how it had come across.

He’d never been that guy. Some of his teammates? Yes. Him? Never. Sure, he’d enjoyed his share of easy, random hookups, but he’d never paid for it. Well, not in cash. Some of his girlfriends had got expensive gifts out of him, but that was different, right? They’d had a relationship...of sorts.

He answered Frank honestly. “I don’t know. I’m not playing at anything.” Turning to Samantha, he squeezed her knee in apology. “I’m sorry, Sam. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Her nostrils flared a bit. “It was just gross, Liam.”

Shame burned his face. “I know. Sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

She shrugged. “You embarrassed yourself a lot more than me.
I’m
not the one who asked for hookers.”

Frank shoved at his shoulder so Liam would look at him. “I thought I was clear with you this afternoon. We need these people a hell of a lot more than they need us. All the risk is on their side. We’re trying to get them to sign over hundreds of thousands of pounds to keep the club running—dosh that no one seems to have right now. And you go and tell them... Jesus, what the hell is wrong with you tonight? This isn’t you.”

No, it wasn’t. He knew how to behave in public. His mum would have smacked the back of his head right now if she’d heard him speak that way. “I’m sorry. I’m having an off night. I’ll apologize.”

“You’d better. Look, Charlie’s on his way back to the table. Make it right.”

The other man wouldn’t look at him when he sat down. His face was grim, and Liam knew he’d gone into the ladies’ to make sure Tess was okay. Judging by Charlie’s expression, she wasn’t, and didn’t that just make Liam feel like the world’s biggest shite?

Leaning across the table, Liam said, “Charlie, I’m sorry. What I said earlier...I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. Not at all. I just—” He searched for a way of explaining that wouldn’t reveal his affair with Tess. He found nothing. “I don’t have any excuses. I’m just sorry.”

Charlie’s eyes stayed narrowed, but at least he looked at Liam now. “I’ll be honest with you. I don’t want someone representing my company who would expect those kinds of services—or even engage in them. I know you wouldn’t be signing on to promote us directly, but you are a representative of your team, and I came here tonight in the hope that your team would help represent
us.
I don’t really care what you do in your free time, but if you were ever caught in a situation like the one you described—and on one of our holidays, to boot—I would drop our sponsorship deal so fast you wouldn’t even have tied off the condom yet. Is that clear?”

Shame filled Liam’s gut. “Perfectly. And I would expect no less.”

“We’re a family-friendly company, and that’s one of the things that attract me to rugby, of all sports. I haven’t been to many matches myself, but I know from talking with my uncle that most teams create a family-friendly viewing environment. He always took his kids to matches as they were growing up, even before rugby became a professional sport, and he assured me that the risk of scandal was fairly low, as far as professional athletes are concerned. I’ll need your assurance that that’s the case.”

“My players may not always be angels, Charlie, but they are professionals.” What killed him was the fact that since he became Legends captain, he’d constantly drilled into his teammates the need to be professional both on and off the pitch. No women in the hotels. No cheating on wives. No badmouthing the opposition or referees. Yet here he was, having to defend his own honor in a mess of his own making. He’d embarrassed himself and had only himself to blame.

“Good,” Charlie continued. “I’ve always said that my company is a family, and that’s more true than ever now that Tess has joined us. I expect her to be treated with respect.”

Liam blinked. “She works for you?”

“She might be. She’s the one examining the proposal and contract and advising me on whether this sponsorship deal makes sense.”

Fucking hell. They were dead. “I didn’t realize that. I thought she was just here as your wife. I hope she can see beyond my momentary lapse in judgment.”

Charlie choked on his wine. When he finished sputtering, he said incredulously, “Tess? My wife?” He laughed so hard people around the restaurant stared at them.

“She’s...she’s not your wife?” Swanny asked—and thank God, too, because Liam couldn’t have got the words out.

“No! She’s my cousin. God, the thought of it...” Charlie shuddered.

Liam was going to be sick. Tess wasn’t married. She was here as a professional, the same as he was supposed to be. And if today was her first day with the company, she’d likely had as little warning of the coming collision as he’d had.

He was such a dick.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need the gents’.” He stood and dropped his cloth napkin onto his chair. He strode around the corner and stood outside the ladies’ loo for as long as he could handle until he decided she wasn’t coming out. Another woman did, though, and he said, “Excuse me, is there a woman with brown hair in there?”

“Uh, yes, there is.”

“Is she okay?”

“Well, she seems quite upset.”

Fuck. “Is she the only one in there?”

The woman nodded and he thanked her.

Then he shored himself up before breaching the girl cave that men never dared enter.

Tess was bracing her hands against the sink muttering to herself, but when the door shut behind him she flipped on the tap and pumped soap into her hands without looking up. “Charlie, I told you I’m okay.”

He didn’t say anything. When the woman had said Tess was upset, he’d expected messy tears or other dramatics. That was the kind of upset he was used to. But Tess looked caught between anger and shock, as though someone had drowned her kitten. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

She spun around. “What are you doing in here?”

“I wanted to apologize.”

Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she finally clamped it shut and glared at him.

He gathered up his pride and his courage and dug deep to be the man he knew he had to be. “I shouldn’t have said what I did. I didn’t mean it like that. Seeing you here tonight threw me completely off, and my brain sort of stopped communicating with my mouth. I’m sorry.”

Her gaze settled somewhere around his clavicle—the only bone he’d broken twice in his career. Feeling her accusing stare there brought back the searing pain until his whole chest throbbed. He needed her to understand he wasn’t the man he’d come across as tonight.

She finally wet her bottom lip and said, “What exactly did you mean, then?”

Shite, he should’ve known that she wouldn’t make this easy. “I went to Venezuela to be alone and try to figure some things out. Meeting you was...unexpected.”

She closed her eyes as if she couldn’t bear to look at him. “Unexpected but forgettable.”

He took a step closer, but she must’ve heard because she backed up into the wall. He stopped, not wishing to push where he wasn’t wanted. How could he explain, though, without opening himself completely up, making himself vulnerable to every weapon she had in her arsenal? If he’d learned anything, it was that he didn’t know her at all, but he could give her this reassurance in all honesty. “It wasn’t forgettable.”

More than that, he couldn’t admit. Not without understanding it better himself.

She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, her shoulders relaxing somewhat. “I’m not a countess.”