Nice Girls Finish Last (7 page)

‘Every few months we run a course,' he said. ‘A mentoring programme.'

‘What's this got to do with me—with the stadium?' she amended quickly. But she already knew where this was going and she was fighting the crushing feeling.

‘We want to run the programme here—have the boys train alongside the team for a week. Let them see and understand what discipline, drive, dedication and hard work is. We have compulsory workshops in every course but we need permission to use the facilities here for it. And we need approval for our boys to attend training each day and to have the opportunity for some question-and-answer time with the team. The players are the inspiration factor for the boys. The kids need to see how hard those guys work, every day, and of course see what the rewards of extreme effort can be.'

She understood the aim immediately and knew the Silver Knights were a good example. They'd done that sort of thing before. Management encouraged the players themselves to continue with study so they had something to work towards when they finished playing professionally or if, worst case, they were injured and had their careers taken from them. They tried to help them build rounded lives and steer them through the pitfalls of temptation that fame and accolade brought. The rugby guys were driven and worked
hard—hard enough to make dreams a reality. Some had come from childhoods of hardship. So, yes, most were inspirational for a lot of people. Of course some played around after hours but every single one was utterly determined and focused when it came to it—the game on the grass came first. Seth's request made total sense and was nothing new.

But Lena was battling bone-deep disappointment and bubbling anger. He should have told her about this yesterday. Instead he'd toyed with her. He'd let her make a total fool of herself.

‘I have a presentation.' He pulled a flash drive from his pocket and placed it on her desk. ‘Some slides and footage of the last few camps. It explains everything and only takes a few minutes to watch.'

She ignored it. ‘When did you want to run this programme?'

‘Next week.'

Her jaw dropped; she was stunned that he'd be that disorganised. ‘Leaving it to the last minute, aren't you?'

He inclined his head and looked directly at her. ‘It was scheduled for our usual place but that's become unavailable—fire gutted the main training room in the weekend. So I guess I'm throwing myself on your mercy.'

Mercy? Seth Walker had never needed anyone's mercy—he'd be the one to grant it.

‘I can't be influenced by any personal—' she broke off, scrambling for an appropriate word ‘—connection we've had.'

‘Of course.' He was totally smooth. ‘I know that you wouldn't deny these boys this opportunity because of any awkwardness between us. Anyway, there isn't any awkwardness, is there?'

She was the one to study the desk then because she couldn't answer that. She wasn't feeling
awkward
, she was
feeling insanely disappointed that he hadn't come to see her for
her.

Of course he hadn't. And why should she mind when she'd told him it was over? But she totally minded. She wished her body had listened as well as he had.

‘It's a good PR opportunity for the team, to be seen giving something back to the community, right?' he said.

‘We have many good PR opportunities,' she answered curtly. ‘The team already spends hours on community and charitable projects. Perhaps it's you who's really seeking the PR op?'

‘I'm not in any of the pictures, nor is my company logo.' He grinned. ‘I prefer to keep under the radar media wise. In fact my involvement with the programme is conditional on my
lack
of involvement with the publicity angle.'

Lena swallowed, knowing she was being backed into a corner.

‘I spoke with Dion and, while he's happy for us to be at the stadium, you're the person who needs to let us have access to the team.' Seth's gaze speared her; he seemed to take up all her visual space.

‘It's not me,' she denied. ‘All I can do is put your request to management and get back to you.'

He leaned back in his seat, looking a lot as if he were a panther and she the hapless creature on whom he was about to pounce. ‘But Dion said you were the key. If we get you onside it would basically be a done deal.'

If ‘we' get her onside?
He
was the only one present—so it was if
he
got her ‘onside'. Was this why he'd been so ready to accept her invitation last night? Had it been a case of sweetening her up so she'd say yes to this? Oh, now she was humiliated. Anger simmered, too.

‘Nothing's a done deal,' she said, falling back on the icy armour she'd honed over the last eighteen months. ‘I
can make you no guarantees. You'll have to wait until I've reviewed the request and spoken with my superiors.' She stood, wanting this interview to be over so she could lick away the stings in private.

‘Of course.' He followed suit and rose from his seat.

Politeness required she see him out. She'd failed to do that in her home this morning. Now she was determined to be
nothing
but professional—pride dictated it. But it was in stony silence that she walked towards her door.

‘Don't come out to the lift. I'm sure you're very busy.' He smiled—too intimately.

She lifted her chin. ‘It's no problem.'

His grin flashed wider as if he didn't believe her. ‘Lena—' he stopped just inside her doorway ‘—just so you know, I don't prostitute myself.' He leaned closer, spoke in an all-out purr. ‘Not even for a good cause.'

She couldn't move.

‘What happened last night was between us and has nothing to do with this.' Now he bit.

‘What happened last night is finished,' she said firmly.

‘You think?' His lashes dropped; she could feel the sweep of his gaze down her skin as if it were the stroke of his finger. ‘Who are you trying to convince—me or you?'

Oh, he was arrogant and she had the urge to best him somehow.

‘Because, in case you hadn't figured it out already,' he continued softly, ‘you can ask me to dine on you again any time you like.'

Dine
on
her? Heat flared in her cheeks over the crudity of his comment. And the veracity: she
had
asked, more than once, and he'd licked every inch of her body—inside and out. Just as she'd sucked the proof of pleasure out of him. Her skin burned, not just from anger but also attraction—still that insane attraction to his physicality. And his
amusement. For once more laughter sparkled in the depths of his blue eyes, inviting her to laugh with him. Except she couldn't. She couldn't move, speak, think….

It took her catatonic brain long enough to realise she was panting. She snapped out of it, marched back to her desk and swiped up the flash drive—to do
something
with her damp, shaking, desperate hands. ‘I'll take a look and get back to you.'

‘Here's my card.' Remaining where he was, he held it out—so she had to walk back towards him to get it. ‘I forgot to give you my details this morning.'

She had his every detail imprinted on her body. She could still feel his weight, still see the shades of tan on his skin, the whirls of hair on his chest—the arrowing down to his fantastic masculinity. She knew every intimate detail already; she didn't need more.

She took the card by a corner edge and quickly moved to the open door to avoid any closer contact. ‘I'll be in touch,' she said brusquely.

He nodded—too casually—and sent her a brilliant smile. ‘I really do appreciate your time, Lena.'

She turned her back on him and gritted her teeth to hold in the snarl of pure frustration. But she couldn't say no to his request and he knew it. The team tried to agree to most team-access requests—especially if youth or children were involved. She had to treat this proposal as she would any other—because if their night together ever became public knowledge it would look so dodgy. In truth it looked dodgy either way.

Damn Seth for putting her in this position. He should have been honest with her in the first place. She ground her teeth harder still. Men never were honest—not until they'd got what they wanted. She tossed the flash drive onto the desk and sat down to fire off the relevant emails. Yes, she'd
recommend this to management, but only because there was no reason not to and because Dion had already given permission for them to be on-site. It was off-season, the boys were only playing a couple of friendlies in the next fortnight, there was none of the cloak-and-dagger secret-training stuff that happened around finals time.

But while she'd say yes, she'd avoid the pitch completely next week. She'd catch up on the filing or something so she wouldn't even have to see him. She swallowed her disappointment and stoked her small pocket of pride. She had no intention of having to deal with him direct ever again.

T
HE
next morning Lena cleared her emails. It was all organised. She'd had confirmation messages from Andrew, the social worker for the charity. Nothing from Seth himself. Of course not—he'd got what he wanted already. Grimacing, she picked up the box of sponsorship goodies that had arrived for the totally spoilt team. She'd leave them in their lockers; the boys should be on the pitch already, ten minutes into training.

‘Coming through!' she called just in case, but the change room was silent and empty. She started unloading the box, chuckling when she saw that it was the two best-looking stars of the team who had the specially wrapped, larger freebie packs.

Footsteps sounded behind her and she turned, expecting it to be one of the guys. It was a guy, all right. She stared at the bare chest, instantly recognising and responding to the dusting of dark hair and defined pecs and abs. It hadn't been baby oil that had made this chest gleam the last time she'd seen it; it had been sweat and wet—from her lips and tongue.

It took all her willpower not to lick her lips now, and far too many seconds before she could drag her gaze upwards. The silence, for all that time, said it all.

‘What are you doing here?' she finally asked, trying not
to let her streaming excitement sound, but he had to be able to hear her heart battering her rib cage.

‘What does it look like?' Eyes dancing, he took for ever to slip his tee shirt over his head. ‘I'm doing a training session with the team. I need to know what to prepare the boys for next week.'

‘What?'
Horrified, she glared at him. ‘That's not a good idea.'

‘Why not?'

‘Because…' She paused. Because he'd probably get killed—but how did she say that without sounding too concerned? ‘Can you afford the dental work?' she eventually spat.

‘So little faith?' Good humour beamed from his face. She knew he was enjoying her OTT reaction.

‘You're not a professional rugby player. Those guys are demons.' Oh, hell, she sounded pathetic.

‘Why, Lena—' he put his hand to his chest ‘—you care about what happens to me?'

‘I wouldn't like to see
anyone
permanently paralysed,' she corrected him bluntly.

‘Your concern for my welfare is very sweet, but I've no intention of being pulverised.'

On that pitch he wasn't going to have the choice. The Knights were the best team in the country. Fighting machines who showed no mercy. Ever.

Without realising, she followed him out of the change room into the tunnel and towards the pitch. ‘Why are you doing this?'

‘Well, there are a couple of reasons. I do need to prep for my boys.' He stopped right at the end of the tunnel and faced her. ‘But I've also got energy to burn. More than a little frustration. Ice-cold showers aren't enough.'

His words torched Lena's cheeks. She clamped her jaw,
trying to ignore the flames licking deep inside her, too. Had he guessed she'd been having like three ice showers a day?

‘Besides,' he continued easily, ‘I've always wanted to play on this pitch.'

‘This is some childhood fantasy?' What was it with these guys?

‘Why not?' His smile was unrepentant and infuriatingly irresistible. ‘I never played rugby as a boy, had a couple of part-time jobs and couldn't make the training sessions at school. So here I am, fulfilling that youthful ambition.'

‘So your unholy desire to make truckloads of money began right when you were a kid?'

Her sarky comeback killed the smile in his eyes, leaving them colder than she'd ever seen them. ‘Like most people, I like to eat. And in order to do that on a reasonably regular basis, I had to work.'

Lena swallowed, lost for words and suddenly sorry.

‘We didn't all have the perfect upbringing with the piano and tennis lessons and home-baked biscuits in our lunch boxes,' he tossed, stepping out onto the grass.

‘Seth—' Lena called after him, now angry, too, because he was as wrong as she'd been.

He turned and glared, defiance flaming in his eyes. ‘Here's the thing, Lena. You don't know me very well. And you certainly don't know how determined I can be.'

His chin lifted as he jogged to join in the warm-up drills. Open-mouthed, Lena watched.
Determined?
About what she thought he meant? He turned his head, flashing another look at her.

Oh, yes, he did mean that—because that defiance was desire drenched. Stupidly, all she could wonder then was whether he had a mouth guard. Irresistibly she was drawn to the rail. Dion was lounging against it, yapping into his mobile phone. She didn't want to watch the carnage, but her
body wasn't listening to her brain. When it came to Seth, her body refused to hear sense.

‘Hey!' A few of the guys grinned and high-fived Seth.

A few others shivered, and drew away from him as if they were afraid.

‘Don't be too hard on us, bro. We don't wanna see any of your KO moves out here.'

Seth just grinned. Lena frowned. What were they talking about?

The start-up drills were easy—running, ball skills, none of the blood-splattering tackles to begin with, but it would only be a matter of time. She watched him—black shorts, grey tee shirt. Lean, fit, hard. Edible. But not a rugby professional.

She gripped the rail tightly, trying to get a grip on the adrenaline coursing through her, trying to lose the fear factor.

‘You didn't want to get out there, too?' she asked Dion when he put the phone into his pocket. If it was slam-the-amateur hour, then shouldn't he be getting bloodied, as well?

‘Hell, no, I'd only play against Seth in a non-contact sport like chess or something. Even then, he'd clean me up.'

Really? If she weren't feeling so anxious she'd roll her eyes. But they were glued to Seth's sleek physique. He was fast and fully holding his own; she'd easily lose him in the mix. ‘Is Gabe in?' she asked breathlessly. She'd feel better knowing the team doctor was on-site.

Dion chuckled. ‘Seth's not going to need him, if that's what you're thinking. I think the boys are more afraid of him than he is of them.'

Amazingly that outlandish comment seemed to be accurate. The team were throwing cautious looks his way, but that was probably because they were afraid of hurting him
or something. Except it didn't look like that would happen. How
did
a guy who bought and sold buildings end up with such sharp muscles? How come his abs were more defined than most of the other guys'? How come he wasn't breathless and panting after all those sprints? Some of the locks looked as if they were hitting their cardio limit already but Seth was still smiling. And the warm-up was working for her as much as for those locks, because all she could think about was his body pouring all that power into hers.

‘Why would they be afraid of him?' Lena asked, half panting herself.

‘Because he has a killer left hook. In his time he KO'd more opponents than anyone else in his division.'

KO'd as in
knocked out
? ‘You mean he's a boxer?'

‘Yeah.' Dion answered as if he was amazed she didn't know that. ‘He was a national amateur champ.'

No way. Seth wasn't a boxer. Where were the battle scars? Where was the bump in the nose from the repeated breaks? His face was far too perfect. She stared at him as she processed.
Boxing?
It was even more violent than rugby.

So he really was a fighter. No wonder he had such a fit body. As a rule she loathed the sport—loathed the violence. Only, now she felt a rush of liquid heat at the thought of him engaged in something so overtly masculine—that raw determination to channel untamed aggression. She shivered. Wasn't the aim to physically hurt another and assert dominance primitive and barbaric?

Yet when Seth had dominated her, when he'd used his body to torment hers, it had been with tenderness. Ferocious passion, yes—but also infinite tenderness.

The dichotomy intrigued and inflamed her. There was greater complexity to the man than she'd realised and she was so curious. Why had he got into boxing? Why was he working with these at-risk youth? He hadn't been
exaggerating when he'd said he wasn't after promo ops. She'd checked his website yesterday and there was nothing personal about him on there. The first hits on a quick Google search had been pictures of him on the town with beautiful women and had been so depressing she'd shut down the search instantly.

She shoved the questions away now, too. Curiosity got cats into serious trouble, after all. She turned and went to hide in her office. Organising her in-tray, she counted the seconds down until she figured it was safe to go back down to the change room and sort the rest of the stuff she'd abandoned. The boys should have finished and cleared out—they had a session with the dietician on a Thursday.

‘Coming through!' she called regardless, her voice echoing in the empty room.

‘I hoped I'd see you again.' He stepped round the corner.

Okay, so the room wasn't quite empty. And he hadn't changed, still hot and sweaty, his body looking all the more powerful.

‘I jogged round the pitch a few more times after training had ended,' he answered her unspoken question. ‘I'm still suffering from more energy than I know what to do with.'

She glanced up to his face, just for a second. But that second morphed into an endless moment because the expression in his eyes entranced her. It was that total focus, the look that made her feel as if there were nothing and no one else in the world but her. She tried to break free but it was impossible. Lust, she reminded herself, just lust. A hormonal mix headier than most—okay, deadly. But lust meant nothing. This could
be
nothing.

His tee shirt clung to his breadth, his skin gleamed, his chest rose and fell faster than usual. He was steaming hot. And she was dying of attraction. She had to kill it.

‘You need a shower,' she said roughly. But she needed one more.

All Seth could think about was hauling her into the shower with him. Yeah, the whole point of the exercise this morning was purely to see her again—not play rugby. He wasn't really a team-sports guy. He preferred one-to-one challenges. Like this. He'd spent hours wondering what she'd be wearing when he saw her next and it was every bit as gorgeous as he'd fantasised. He'd seen the millions of dresses in her wardrobe when she'd opened it yesterday morning. He loved the way they emphasised her shape, loved the fantasy of lifting her skirt and having easy access. Today she wore emerald green. It would look even better wet.

Deliberately he stepped closer, his intent sharpening when she didn't step back. He watched for a blush or something—anything—to clue him in to her thoughts. He hoped they were as rabid as his were. But she was one hell of a blank slate and the poker fantasy came back at the worst possible moment.

‘Can you really leave it at just one night?' The question slid out of him—and wasn't at all an example of the cool way he'd planned to play it.

Her brows lifted. ‘One night was all I needed.'

Never. ‘What about what I needed?'

‘Oh, Seth,' she answered slowly. ‘You've got a zillion other options to get your needs met.'

True, but that wasn't the point. ‘Maybe I don't want other options. I want you to meet my needs.' He frowned, struck by a nightmare thought. ‘Have you got other options?'

‘No,' she snapped right back. ‘But maybe I don't have the same level of need as you.'

He laughed—hard—before thinking better of it. ‘No, we both know your needs are way greater than mine.'

Her jaw became more defined, her chin pointier. ‘You've got the wrong impression.'

‘I don't think so.'

She might be gritting her teeth and his balls ought to be frozen by the dry ice steaming from her eyes, but he was committed now. He saw her bite harder on her lip.

‘Relax, Lena.' He took her hand and smoothed his fingers across her cold knuckles. ‘Tense doesn't suit you.' He knew what did.

‘I'm not tense.'

Her pulse slammed into his fingertips, fast and furious. Her wanting—her
not
wanting to want. He didn't really want to want her quite like this, either, but he wasn't as into denial as she was. Surely she knew if they gave into it, it would go away. It always did. He glanced down and saw she'd curled one foot around her other leg, so she was standing in a weird flamingo kind of way. Totally closed off, with her toes curled in the ends of her sandals. Toe curling was a good sign, wasn't it? Toe curling meant she was holding something back. Satisfaction made him smirk but she saw and jerked her wrist free.

‘You know, you're supposed to be highly intelligent, but the most boneheaded rugby boy has got it before you. I'm saying no.'

‘I am highly intelligent,' he answered patiently. ‘So I can see straight through what you're trying to do.'

‘Oh, what do you think that is?'

‘You're playing me, keeping me dangling on your string.'

‘You think I want you on my string?' she muttered. ‘Your arrogance is something else.'

‘Yeah, but I'm right. Women like to manipulate. You play hardest to get when you want it most, as if somehow it's wrong to want it so badly and putting up a fight makes it more acceptable.' He moved closer, needing to be near. ‘But
there's something about a woman who's honest about wanting it, and who wants it as much as I do. Be honest with me again, Lena.'

‘You're wrong,' she said firmly, her ice-chipped eyes unwavering. ‘Not all women play those kinds of games. I don't. I mean what I say.'

‘But a massive part of you doesn't want to say it.' Her toe curling was giving it away. He hoped.

‘You think?' She glared at him, her ice dissolving in anger. ‘You're actually a no-means-yes, take-it-willing-or-not brute?'