Playing It Close (16 page)

This time, it was her front that drew his attention. Or, rather, her calm, serious face as she followed Ruth into the room—and the Legends jersey she wore. The logos marked the shirt as being several seasons out of date, as did the faded green horizontal stripes and the way the fabric looked soft from years of washings. Now he had no doubt she’d been supporting the team for some time.

He glanced around quickly to see what states of undress she might’ve caught the team in. They always arrived wearing their matching tracksuits, and their clean kit hung in doorless cubbies around the room with their numbers facing outward, making an excellent backdrop for the TV journalists who shot their opening remarks here before the team arrived. However, once the team clambered off the bus, this room became a chaotic hive of activity as every player prepared in his own way. At least one of his teammates had a ritual that included dressing as slowly as possible and doing a range of stretches between putting on each item of clothing. Tess did not need to see Shaggy—the Samoan tight-head prop who resembled something you’d find living under a bridge—bent over in a down-dog yoga pose wearing only his green socks.

Fortunately, Shaggy seemed to have passed that stage of his ritual. At least he was wearing his pants, though they were tight, white and cut high on the thigh.

Liam stood to welcome Tess and the man she was with, his duty as team captain. Perhaps it wasn’t written into his contract, but this was his team and making introductions was part of his role. He’d told himself he would treat her just like any other sponsor, which is why he’d asked Ruth to bring her down before the match. He just hadn’t expected the sight of her to stir up the adrenaline that he tried to keep a tight rein on until just before a match started. Adrenaline—that had to explain the waves of electrifying sensation flowing through him at the sight of her, right?

Ruth beamed as he approached the trio. “Dr. and Ms. Chambers, I’d like to introduce you to the Legends captain, Liam Callaghan.”

Another Chambers man? This one resembled Tess even less than the first one. He towered well over Liam—probably about six-five—and looked like he enjoyed his food, if his barrel belly was anything to go by. This time, though, Liam wouldn’t make the same stupid assumption he’d made before. “Dr. Chambers, pleasure to meet you, sir. I take it you’re related to Tess and Charlie?”

The older man shook his hand in a strong, enthusiastic grip. “Please, call me Ben. And indeed I am. I’m Tess’s proud papa and Charlie’s uncle. He’s my sister’s son. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Meeting Tess’s father...Fuck. “The pleasure’s all mine, sir. Ms. Chambers, lovely to see you again.”

And, surprisingly, that wasn’t a complete lie. She gave him a tight-lipped smile and a polite greeting, as if apologetic for having put him in this situation when she knew it was awkward. Ever since their dinner the other night, he hadn’t been able to get her out of his head. One night he’d even dreamed about her, something that never happened. Oh, he’d dreamed of women before, but they were always anonymous, faceless. Tess had been all too real, sultry, wet and naked under a waterfall—but it hadn’t been exactly the same waterfall they’d made their own in Venezuela. He hadn’t recognized it, but, then again, he hadn’t been so focused on the location as he had been on making her groan and tremble.

Think of something else
,
mate—anything else.
The last thing he needed was for his shorts to get tight. They were short enough that they didn’t leave much to the imagination.

Turning his attention back to Tess’s father, he said, “You look like you might’ve played rugby in your day, sir.”

Clearly chuffed at the observation, Ben puffed out his chest. “I had a fairly distinguished career. I was a front row for the Middlesex Under 16s, and then I hit my growth spurt. I was a lock at Oxford when I was doing my undergrad in the seventies. You might’ve heard of me,” he said with mock seriousness. “I had the distinction of being the only forward to score a drop goal during my first season. Sadly, I’d got turned around, so I kicked it through the posts we were trying to defend. Even worse, I’d just met Tess’s mum a few weeks before, and I’d invited her to come watch me play. Fortunately, she knew nothing about rugby, so she assumed I’d done something magnificent.”

Liam laughed. “There are some benefits to being with a woman who knows nothing about the sport. Let me introduce you to the team.” He called the two locks over first. “Little John Sheldon and Shorty Dunston, I’d like you to meet our newest sponsor. This is Tess Chambers from Kijani Adventures and her father, Ben. Sounds like he might be ready to step into either of your shoes, so I’d watch myself if I were you.”

Little John—all six-foot-nine of him—and Shorty—so called because he was two inches shorter than Little John—listened to Ben recount his gloryless days with good humor and even asked for kicking pointers, a skill locks weren’t known for. They were huge men—the height of professional basketball players but twice as wide and usually half as fast—whose main function on the pitch was to apply brute force, not athletic finesse.

Liam listened to the three but couldn’t stop himself from glancing at Tess. She came up to the middle of her father’s chest, if that. Her mother must be built like a Chihuahua because Tess certainly hadn’t inherited any of her father’s genes—at least, none of the ones that determined physical characteristics.

She laughed along with the men, looking more relaxed as she joined their conversation. “Never trust a lock to do a fly half’s job.”

The locks reared back in surprise as she not only took the piss out of her father—and of them—but revealed a smidgen of rugby knowledge. The reminder that she’d lied about recognizing him and about being a rugby supporter put Liam’s back teeth on edge. Something on his face must’ve given him away, because her smile slowly froze before disappearing.

Liam cleared his throat. “I’ll just introduce you around to the other lads.”

He performed the duty on auto-pilot, but inside his blood pressure ratcheted up as Tess found something to compliment each player on. She seemed to know every man’s biggest accomplishment and congratulated the cubs on having been selected to play without him needing to point out that this was their first season with the team. Yet another sign that she was not only a rugby fan but had followed the team for a long time.

While her father tripped over his tongue a few times when meeting some of the players, Tess stayed cool...until the trio reached the most legendary of Legends, scrum half Ash Trenton. Ash was the man whose shoes Liam was trying to fill. Since Ash was thirty-four, everyone knew he’d be retiring soon even though he’d yet to announce a date. Seeing a need for succession planning, their Legends coach had named Liam captain last year, a move Ash said he was happy about but must’ve been tough for the man who’d held the reins for eight years, building the club into one of the country’s best.

Liam performed the introductions, waiting to hear how Tess would address the great man himself, but Ben never gave her a chance. He thrust his hand out, pumped Ash’s up and down vigorously, and gushed, “It’s a great honor, isn’t it, Tessy? We’ve watched you for years, and meeting you in person—I’m speechless.”

Clearly he wasn’t, though, because he plowed on, nudging his daughter’s shoulder so hard she teetered into Liam’s side and he had to steady her by grabbing her arm just above her elbow. “Did you ever think you’d meet Mr. April?”

Tess’s triceps flexed under Liam’s palm. “Dad...”

But the man went on, mindless of the flush crossing Tess’s cheeks. “My daughter here bought your calendar last year. You know, the one where you lads got your kit off and held onto your balls—rugby balls, I mean. I think it’s been April in her kitchen ever since.”

Ash flashed Tess a wicked smile and said something Liam couldn’t hear for the blood rushing in his ears. She’d had fucking
Ash Trenton’s
naked photo up? He dropped his hand as if her skin had scalded him. Judging by the heat pouring off her face, he was just in time too. She closed her eyes in obvious mortification, and Ruth stepped in to whisk the visitors off to the hospitality suite. As they reached the door, Tess glanced over her shoulder, her troubled gaze meeting his, and he shook his head.
Don’t say a word.
I
don’t want to know.

Ash fucking Trenton. Bad enough Liam was constantly compared to the man by sports pundits. Worse that he’d thought he’d found someone he could be Just Liam with only to discover she’d known him all along. But now he’d have the sickening doubt about whether she’d pictured Ash fucking Trenton while she’d slept with him.

And yet, he
still
had to professionally seduce the only woman who’d ever left him a Dear John letter. Fucking hell.

The trio was out the door and halfway down the hall by the time he realized he needed to sort something else out.

“Ruth!” he yelled.

The group stopped, and Ruth hurried back when he beckoned her. Dropping his voice, he said, “I need you to do me a favor.”

* * *

Plate piled high with a variety of meaty, messy food from the gourmet buffet, Tess and her dad settled into their seats in the hospitality suite. Dozens of corporate types milled around, networking and boasting the way Tess used to have to do. She’d never felt entirely comfortable in the role, but being an outsider and watching sycophants practically bend over double to lick their clients’ arses made her feel ill. She shuddered, glad she was well shot of that career.

“I didn’t embarrass you, did I, littl’un?”

“Not at all, Dad.” No,
embarrass
didn’t begin to cover it. Humiliate? Still not strong enough. Destroy? Maybe.

Having anyone’s idol know that she’d kept a calendar with his nearly naked picture up in her kitchen was humbling. But much worse, Liam had looked completely disgusted by her when she’d left. How could she ever face him again?

“Sometimes I get Tourette’s and I can’t help the things I say. Your mum would have a go at me if she knew what I said to that man. I’m really sorry.”

She took a deep yogic breath—in through her nose and out her mouth to a count of ten—before feeling calm enough to respond. “Hey, what’re fathers for if they can’t provide their children with stories about how embarrassing they are, right?”

He made a noncommittal sound that let Tess know he felt too awful to joke.

“It’s all right, Dad. Really. Make it up to me by enjoying the match. Look at these views. We’ll probably never get to see something like this again.” The room was long, with one wall entirely built of windows overlooking the halfway line. The players jogged onto the pitch amid flares, and the crowd surged to its feet to applaud the start of another season.

“Tess?”

She turned and found Ruth holding out a paper bag printed with the Legends logo and a photo of Liam flying through the air to score a try. “A little gift from our captain.”

Stomach knotting at the words, Tess thanked her and took the bag. She peered inside and pulled out two brand-new plastic-wrapped Legends jerseys. Dumbfounded, she handed the XXL to her father and ripped open the XS. This season’s kit, complete with the Kijani Adventures logo printed across the chest.

Smoothing the bag over her knee, unwilling to crumple Liam’s determined face or throw him away, she felt something else in the bag. She drew out a note card with a hastily scrawled message.

T—

You can’t wear our kit from 2005.
It’s embarrassing.

—LC

She mumbled her excuses to her father as she headed for the ladies’ to change her top. Hope bloomed in her chest that maybe, possibly she was forgiven for deceiving him.

But that look of disgust he’d given her remained too strong a memory for her to believe it.

When she returned to the hospitality suite, her dad was twisted in his seat, watching out for her. Too far away to be heard unless he shouted, he raised his arm and jabbed a finger in the direction of the tandoori chicken kebabs laid out on a table Tess was about to pass.

How many?
Tess mouthed.

He held up four fingers, scrunched his face up like he was reconsidering, then added his thumb. Jesus, five more kebabs on top of everything they’d already eaten? The man was a candidate for a coronary. Not that she was arguing from a position of strength when it came to diets, but at least she made sure to burn some of the grease off every day.

Her dad faced the pitch as the players warmed up, and Tess grabbed another plate, piling it high with kebabs. What the hell—she might as well add a couple for herself while she was there.

“I see you still eat like shit.”

The voice hit her just a second after the cloying cologne did, and the combined effect made the hairs on her neck stand on end. Forcing every muscle in her face to relax so she gave nothing away—not even one iota of the molten revulsion in her gut—she turned toward the man who was directly responsible for her having to cut her time in Venezuela short. “Michael.”

I
see you still smell like shit.
Once upon a time, she wouldn’t have hesitated to stoop to his puny emotional level. But giving up tit-for-tat insults was high on her list of ways to live a happier life. She could defend herself by being the better person...and with Michael Mulligan, that shouldn’t be difficult.

He smirked and made a show of looking her up and down, taking in the still-creased Legends shirt before he smoothed his hand along his suit lapel. The only sign he was at a rugby match was the yellow-and-black tie, the colors of one of Legends’ cross-town rivals where her old employer had corporate season tickets for entertaining clients. “Must be nice to come to one of these events and dress down. Unemployment clearly has its benefits.” He gave her a mock thoughtful look. “What
is
unemployment benefit these days? About eighty quid a week?”