Playing It Close (20 page)

When he finally spoke, his voice was a caress across her overheated skin. “Perfection, huh?”

Time for a joke
,
Tess.
Smash his ego to save yours.
But she couldn’t. Somehow she couldn’t bring herself to make the kind of cutting remark he’d delivered on the pitch a few days ago. More fool her. “Yeah. Perfection.”

She couldn’t stand the possibility of him slicing her down, humiliating her when she had to spend the next couple of hours with a roomful of rugby players who dropped towel with no warning. Before he could respond, she bent over and grabbed her backpack off the floor.

“Excuse me. I have to get changed.”

She’d only taken a step when he grabbed her elbow, sending sparks of awareness straight up her arm to her heart.

“Tess...”

She waited, breath held until black spots danced across her vision.

“Changing room’s empty, if you want to have a quick shower. I’ll stand outside the door and make sure no one comes in.”

Fab. She should probably be grateful for his thoughtfulness, but really, did he have to make it obvious he’d noticed how gross she was just after she told him his body was perfection?

“Great. Thanks. Appreciate it.” Flat words, delivered with all the enthusiasm she could muster...which was none.

Who would’ve thought that her former career gambling on the performance of financial markets was safer than working for a travel agent?

* * *

Liam stood in front of the changing room door and battled the urge to rake both hands through his hair, giving it a good tug in the hopes it might ease some of his frustration. Not wanting the team to see how their sponsor affected him, he kept his hands at his sides, only his fingers moving with involuntary twitches from the nerves Tess set alight every time he saw her.

Damn it. He’d told himself to stay distant, since he couldn’t stay away, but she’d shattered him with one word.
Perfection.

He was used to women fawning over his body. He’d even been told it was perfect before. It was a nice side benefit of the career. But Tess hadn’t fawned—not today and not in Venezuela. Somehow her one-word description meant more than any gushing praise that had been heaped on him by women in the past.

Tess wasn’t perfection. If he’d been asked two months ago to build his perfect woman, Tess wouldn’t be it. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about her? Images of her leaning backward while the waterfall pummeled her from above kept him awake at night. His hands still felt the imprint of her tight arse from when he’d held her up so he could thrust harder. He was haunted by the memory of the slick heat of her body pulsing around his as he took advantage of how sensitive her nipples were. He couldn’t take a shower anymore without needing to take care of himself.

More than that, though, he craved the feeling of relief he’d experienced when he’d talked to her. The lightening of his burdens and the simple, sweet comfort he’d found in her arms. He hadn’t dreamed of his mum once since talking to Tess. Instead, his sleep was disturbed by the erotic visions his mind conjured up of Tess.

And now she was in the changing room—
his
changing room—probably thinking about their waterfall as she washed London’s mud off herself. And she...well, she thought his body was perfection. She was hardly acting coy.

A simultaneous high-pitched scream and a masculine shout of “Fuck me! What the hell?” shattered Liam’s mental wandering. He shoved through the door of the changing room and found Ash, completely bare-arse naked, facing the showers with a hand shielding his eyes.

Liam sprinted over, barely hearing several teammates clambering into the room behind him to see what was wrong.

Jesus Christ. He skidded to a halt on the wet tile floor, throwing his arms out to brace himself against a wall when he caught his first look of Tess in the shower. She was bent over, trying to cover herself with what appeared to be a tea towel as water rained down on her curved back and steam billowed around her. She glared at him. “You’re supposed to be guarding the door!”

Fucking hell. He was a dead man. “There’s a second door.” The one that led to the hallway. The one Ash would’ve used when he arrived.

The words sounded lame to him, and she clearly agreed, bending over farther in a vain attempt to cover more of herself. She glanced behind him and cursed. A dozen of his teammates had gathered behind him to stare at her in wonder.

“Everyone out! Move it. Back to the shoot.”

The herd moved slowly, as if the ones at the back were reluctant to go when they’d barely been able to see anything. “Line sprints for anyone who’s still here by the time I reach two. One...”

They hustled. Ash was the only one who stayed put, one hand covering his package and the other covering his eyes—though he had enough space between his fingers to get a good look in.

“Mate, turn around,” Liam told his most senior player, the man who’d been a mentor to him ever since he’d joined the team at sixteen.

Ash did as he was told, bracing both hands on his hips now. “Who the fuck is she?” he muttered while Tess fumbled to turn off the showerhead.

“Our sponsor. Kijani Adventures. You met her at the double header.”

Ash’s body stiffened, awareness apparently hitting him at the same time it hit Liam. A slow, dirty smile spread over Ash’s face. “The one who kept my picture up all year?”

“My dad was exaggerating!” Tess flung her arms out in frustration but quickly covered herself again before Liam could appreciate the glory of her wet, naked body. “Liam, please...”

He slapped Ash’s shoulder. “Grab a towel and get to the shoot. And do me a favor? Make sure it doesn’t fall behind schedule. I may be a few minutes, and we don’t have any time to spare today.”

Ash nodded, already striding toward his kit bag. “Sure thing, skipper.”

Liam waited until he was out the door before daring to face Tess again. “I’m sorry. He’d called to say he was having car trouble and was going to be about an hour late. I didn’t expect him this early.”

Tess shivered but at least she was standing upright again, one arm wrapped around her breasts and the other holding her tiny towel just below her waist to hide secrets he’d already discovered.

He hurried to the bin of clean towels, yanked a couple out and brought them to her. Draping one across her shoulders, he gave in to the urge to rub and squeeze her arms and upper back, as if he were helping to dry them instead of relearning the feel of her. She pulled away and tugged the towel around herself.

“I can’t believe the whole Legends team saw me naked,” she groaned.

“Not the whole team.”

“Right. Only the twelve selected for this year’s calendar.”

“And no coaching staff or management. Be grateful for that. At least one of them is a heart attack waiting to happen. The sight of you naked could’ve killed him.”

Her eyes narrowed, as if she weren’t sure that was a compliment, so he leaned down as he ran his hand down to the small of her back. “One word, Tess,” he whispered. “Nymph.”

Her nostrils flared. “Liam...”

He couldn’t help himself any longer. He had to touch her. His thumb traced the sensitive skin of her neck to her strong jaw. She sucked in air, tensing as she pulled the corners of the towel tighter around herself. He captured the lobe of her ear between his teeth, holding her gently and flicking it once with the tip of his tongue. She gasped, one hand letting go of the towel to brace against his chest. Or to push him away?

He would never know. A throat cleared behind him. He instantly let her go and spun around, shielding her from Ash’s gaze...which was trained on the ceiling anyway. Smart man.

“Photographer says he needs you both. Apparently there’s a problem.”

There sure as hell was. Liam was hard as a goal post, wearing nothing but a towel he would have to lose in a second to have his photo taken. He had no problem being starkers in front of his team. Erect was another matter. Plus, the woman who tempted him more than she should stood naked and shivering behind him. Oh yeah, and she was his team’s sponsor—someone he and the team had to maintain a professional relationship with—which was difficult to do when they’d all seen her naked.

Problem
didn’t cover it.

“Be out in a second, mate.”

Ash left him alone with Tess, who now stood shivering under the showerheads with the towel tucked safely around herself. “Tess, we need to talk.”

She cut him with a sharp look. “Because it’s your job?”

Regret for his hasty, face-saving words swept over him. “No. Because—” He stumbled.
Because I barely know you but for some reason I miss you?
Because we can’t keep hurting each other?
Because we want each other and I can’t remember why we shouldn’t satisfy ourselves?

She gave up on him and pushed past. “Would you mind leaving while I dress? Or perhaps there’s a stall with a locking door around here, since you make such a shit bodyguard?”

That’s right
,
nymph.
Come out swinging.
“The toilets are around the corner, but you might not want to go into the stalls. I’ll go out there and make sure no one else comes in. Change quickly, though.”

She was clearly in no mood to listen to him now, and if he couldn’t even figure out why they needed to talk then what would he actually say? He’d get her on her own later, when he’d had more time to think about his approach. Tactics. Strategy. That’s what he needed here.

He walked into the next room, gestured behind him and bellowed, “No one goes in there.”

Most of the team smirked. The photographer and his assistant didn’t even look up, too busy snapping photos of Spencer Bailey lounging on the beach in the tightest, shortest shorts Liam had ever seen. Bailey-boy was used to this shit, and he ignored ribbing from the team as several of them gathered round the edge of the scene shouting out encouragement like, “Work it, baby!” and “Bailey, when did you start shaving your bollocks?” Bailey-boy scratched his cheek with two fingers, subtly flipping them the V without breaking concentration.

His face and body were on billboards across the city flogging anything from pants to sports drinks to spectacles that he didn’t need in real life. Not that Liam could blame him. With his wife Caitlyn about to burst with a baby, and the fact that most rugby careers ended when a player reached his early thirties if he wasn’t seriously injured or deselected before, Liam didn’t begrudge anyone making their money while they could.

Liam approached the photographer to find out about the problem before Tess came out. He stood quietly, hands on hips, waiting for the man to reach a stopping point. A few seconds later, the photographer finally lowered his camera and gave a full-body shuddering sigh as though he’d just orgasmed. “Aaand I’m spent. Mr. Bailey, that was a true pleasure. You have the kind of face a camera loves.”

Liam couldn’t help it. “Cameras love hideous mugs?”

The photographer glared at him, obviously not catching Spencer’s confident chuckle as he wiped baby oil off his skin with a towel the assistant handed him. Andre said, “No. Cameras love faces with interesting features. Noses that aren’t perfectly straight. Teeth that are just a little crooked. Ears that aren’t exactly symmetrical.”

Now Liam laughed as Spencer gave a glare that had made grown men wet themselves in the past. “What the hell does that mean?”

Slapping his best mate’s shoulder, Liam said, “It means you’re a gargoyle. Good thing American women go for an English accent or Caitlyn would never have looked at you twice.”

“Caitlyn thinks I’m beautiful.”

“And it would be rude of me to question her obviously questionable taste. Now, when’s it my turn to pose? I’m afraid the camera won’t love me as much, seeing as my face is perfect. But I hope you can live with the disappointment.”

“I’ve done everyone else, so you’re next. We’re doing you in the waterfall.” The photographer winked at him. “I want water streaming down all those muscles of yours.”

The team laughed, and Ash joked, “Make sure you push his face behind the water so no one can see it.”

Liam rolled his eyes. “Why do you think this calendar’s so popular, mate? Need I remind you that sales skyrocketed the first year I was included?”

Everyone groaned. Little John said, “No need to remind us. You tell us that every year.”

Pointing at the big man, Liam raised a brow in a mock stern face. “And they fell the first year you were in it, so I’d keep my trap shut if I were you. You’re just here to make up the numbers.”

Little John grinned, his ego just as impressive as parts farther south.

“Anyway,” Liam said to the photographer, “I heard there was a problem.”

The man nodded toward the corner of the room, where a bikini-clad woman was watching the team. Holy shit. When had she arrived? Normally if there was a half-naked woman in a room, she grabbed Liam’s attention straight off. He had a homing device for exposed female skin, but he hadn’t even noticed this one...or her incredible attributes.

“Only one of the three models showed up for the digital calendar,” the photographer explained. “We wanted one per backdrop. We can make do by having Lucy here pose for two different shots, but it’ll look strange if we use the same model for all three shots. We only have a few minutes, and we have to find another female model to pose with you men.” He raised his brows and glanced not-so-subtly toward the changing room.

Tess
. No, she would gut him before she did anything like this. But apparently the photographer’s mind was working in a similar direction because he said, “We don’t have much choice.”

Liam gestured helplessly toward the man’s assistant.

“Anna can’t do it. I need her to help me during the shoot. Besides, she’s always refused to have her photo taken. She prefers to be behind the camera.”

Liam’s shoulders slumped. Across the room, Tess emerged from the changing room looking prim and buttoned-up in a gray trouser suit, jacket included even though the room was stuffy. From a distance, he could easily mistake her outfit for a coat of armor. “I can’t ask her. It wouldn’t be appropriate. I mean, look at her.”