Playing for Keeps: Harford Scarlet Series (9 page)

‘Now Alex here –’ Tom gestured towards the blond scrum half ‘– is the baby of three and was thoroughly fussed over by his older sisters. That’s why he’s a girlie back instead of a hulking forward.’

‘Watch it, scholarship boy,’ grumbled Alex.

‘Scholarship boy?’ asked Sarah.

‘Tom was such a brainbox he attended our school on a scholarship. Top of every class, he made life difficult for the rest of his year as no one could keep up. So, in the first term, they made it difficult for him. All the public school tricks possible: apple-pie beds, smoke bombs in his wardrobe, even trying to beat him up on the rugby pitch.’ Alex laughed at the memories. ‘But he held his own and had his revenge; no one thought the polite scholarship kid would have such a right hook, and the other kids always ended up bloodier than him. By the time I arrived, a year or so later, he was Mr Popular and his first term was school legend.’

Clare had overheard Alex and was curious. ‘How did you become friends if there was such a difference in age?’

‘I knew of him; the school wasn’t that big but we didn’t talk much. Then one day he defended me when I had some locals after me.’

‘What? You couldn’t outsprint them with that fabulous turn of pace you have?’ scoffed Clare.

Alex grimaced wryly. ‘They’d caught me in the town buying girlie Christmas presents for my sisters in the local pharmacy. Don’t get me wrong, I was always a little scrapper but they had me surrounded. Tom fortunately laid out the ringleader and a couple of others. I got one or two, and the rest fled. We became friends after that and, later on, it worked out well on the pitch, me at scrum half and him anchoring the scrum at eight. Our school was unbeaten for years, the record only broken when he went off to university. He should’ve gone to Oxford or Cambridge but, for some reason, he chose to go to Kent – as far away from Scotland as he could get.’

‘Perhaps I wanted to get warm? It’s always cold in Scotland,’ Tom suggested lightly.

Alex laughed. ‘More likely you were getting away from the MacLeans before they had you engaged to one of the daughters. Tom had a fair number of women after him.’

‘Says you!’ Tom laughed.

‘Well, once you left, the cream of the crop did head in my direction. Of course, I made the most of it.’ Alex winked wickedly.

Clare made a sound of disgust and turned away. A flash of some indefinable emotion crossed Alex’s face.

Sarah tried to break the awkward tension that had suddenly built up. ‘Does anyone fancy going down the road for something to eat?’ A chorus of positive replies greeted her suggestion. ‘OK, ten-minute warning, departing at six. You have been warned.’

Tom snuggled up to her. ‘Ever thought about being a tour guide?’ he whispered mischievously. ‘Or a dominatrix? You had them under your thumb in no time.’

Sarah ruffled his hair playfully and whispered back, ‘I can do both of them later if you like. In private. I quite enjoyed tying you up before and I’m sure I can improvise for a whip.’ She heard Tom gulp and stifled a giggle.

A group of eight, including Alex and Clare, left the club at a few minutes past six, luckily needing no further chivvying from Sarah. The remaining four were Clare’s friends and Marcus, the new South African centre, who’d popped in to pick up some kit and been waylaid by an Alex worried for once that the men were being outnumbered.  

The overwhelming vote was for an Indian, and they all trooped into a popular local curry house. Somehow, in the jumble for seats on the long table, Clare, who had been trying to sit as far away as possible from Alex, ended up opposite him. She mouthed a plaintive call for aid to Sarah at the other end, but there was nothing that could be done.

Tom watched Sarah demolish her starter. ‘That’s another thing I love about you: you actually eat.’

‘Why shouldn’t I? I do need calories to live. Besides, brunch was a long time ago and we’ve had a fair bit of exercise in the last 24 hours. And you can’t say much –’ she gestured towards his substantial starter ‘– you eat three times more than I do.’

‘Curry’s not on my usual diet plan, though. Even though I love it.’

‘But you had a full English this morning!’

‘Aha! You didn’t notice it was the low-carb, high-protein option? They cooked it especially for me: eggs poached and everything else grilled. With green veg too. So I have plenty of leeway to do some sinning today.’ His legs played against Sarah’s under the table.

She played back as they watched each other savour their courses, in a world of their own. The chatting around them dimmed as they even shared mouthfuls of each other’s food.

The end of the meal and the bill came around quickly, facilitated by Clare. Tom slung down his black credit card before Sarah could object. She quirked an eyebrow. ‘Do you expect me to pay you back in kind?’

‘Not necessarily. Only if you’re willing.’

‘Sounds tempting.’

‘Seriously, I’d like to talk to you about a project I’m involved in. Get your views. Can you come to my offices next week?’

‘Sounds intriguing. We’ll fix a date tonight.’

‘Great.’ His eyes glinted. He lowered his voice. ‘I have plans for you. Several, and only one set is on paper. Let’s get back to yours so I can enact the first, starting with slowly stripping off that underwear that I’ve been thinking about all afternoon.’

The heat in his eyes was so fierce Sarah began to melt in her seat. She squirmed restlessly, seeking some respite.

The spell snapped when Clare came up to talk. ‘Sorry to interrupt you lovebirds but we’re off now. Got work tomorrow.’

‘Not been arguing with Alex too much?’ asked Sarah, only half joking.

Clare looked away to where Alex was waiting by the door. ‘We’ve agreed a truce. He’ll leave me in peace if I do the same for him. I’ll tell you about it next week. Now, have a good night and don’t do anything I wouldn’t.’ She winked at them both and scooted off into the night. Alex waved goodbye and trailed after her.

The plate glass doors swished smoothly open. Sarah headed towards the reception desk, behind which a supercilious blonde sat frowning at her. Sarah was glad she had dressed in officewear: a well-fitting navy designer trouser suit, a cream blouse showing just a touch of cleavage, and tan boots to match her large, briefcase-style bag. Her hair was caught up in a French knot and her make-up was perfectly applied, subtly emphasising her bone structure, hazel eyes, and clear skin.

‘Yes?’ The disdainful receptionist didn’t even attempt to be polite.

‘Sarah Evans for Tom Murray.’

Sarah twisted on her heel, strolled over to a corner sofa, and made herself comfortable; she had no truck with rudeness.

The blonde didn’t try to hide her hostility. Her upper lip curled but before she could compose a response, the entrance doors swished open again and several suits, including Tom, strode in. The transformation was incredible: her sulky pout turned into a willing, sparkling smile. Sarah watched in bemusement, as she schmoozed flirtatiously with the men, delivering and taking messages.

Tom noticed Sarah sitting quietly in the corner. He smiled and beckoned her over. ‘Sarah, meet Raj Patel, he’s my general manager; Neil Howard, financial director; and Lindsay Cowan, operations director.’ Lindsay, almost hidden behind one of the men, was a petite redhead, similarly suited up.

‘Everyone,’ Tom continued, ‘this is Sarah Evans, consultant extraordinaire and my lovely lady.’ He finished the introduction with an arm around her waist and a peck on her cheek. ‘Oh, and Celia who works reception; you two must’ve already spoken.’

Sarah smiled and said hello to everyone except Celia, turning back to Tom. ‘Don’t worry if you’re too busy for lunch – I can meet you tonight.’

‘No, if you don’t mind it being more than just the two of us, and in a large boardroom. We’ll have a discussion of the conference project; it’s my father’s baby but he doesn’t have the experience to look at things from all angles. Your input and knowledge would be appreciated.’

They settled for a relaxing lunch of gourmet sandwiches, interspersed with discussion. Sarah spent some time looking at the plans, paging through and cross-referencing documents. She drummed her lips in thought.

 ‘What have you spotted?’

She lifted her head to see Tom watching her keenly, ‘Well, these plans are very sympathetic to the restoration, which is great, but the architects have forgotten some of the most important details for a functioning hotel: power, pressure and payment.’

‘Go on.’ His full attention remained on her.

‘Power as in electrical sockets at usable heights and locations, decent lighting in bathrooms, and Wi-Fi everywhere. Pressure as in having a decent shower; the pipes need to be substantially upgraded to ensure the higher floors manage, because there is nothing worse than a mean dribble of water. On a side note, I wouldn’t fit that pool or spa into this basement area, the access is poor.’ She highlighted another section. ‘Payment is having a practically-sized reception area which is big enough to take a few pieces of luggage but also invites guests in to book more services, hence make more money. The room allocated is far too small, and too far from the main entrance.’

There were nods of agreement around the table.

She continued, ‘Retrofitting upgraded utilities or changing room use causes a lot of disturbance, so it’s easier to get it right from the start.’

‘How would you plan the rooms downstairs then?’

Sarah grabbed a copy of the plans and began sketching ideas in, while Tom looked over her shoulder and asked questions. Once a draft was done, she let him take it while she sat back and finished her lunch.

Several more members of Tom’s staff flitted in with paperwork and introduced themselves. Sarah was made to feel perfectly welcome and the cold greeting in reception dimmed from her mind. Near the end of the meeting, when the main discussions were finished, Celia and a couple of her co-workers sauntered in but stayed in a corner and whispered among themselves before leaving again. Sarah dismissed them with a discreet, dry roll of her eyes; every office had its fair share of backstabbers to contend with.

‘I feel exactly the same,’ Lindsay said quietly into her ear, in a soft Scottish lilt. She slipped into the vacant seat next to Sarah’s. ‘That lot are trouble. Celia is a madam; I can guess she didn’t give you the best of welcomes.’

‘Virtually ignored me, but I did the same back.’

‘Good for you. Tom has an excellent PA called Marian, who’s lovely but not here – family stuff. The girl who’s standing in for her is not to be trusted with any of the men: she’s only looking out for a good catch. I can’t believe Tom hasn’t seen through her but she’s some kind of relation of a friend or something; he’s not being his normal ruthless-but-fair self. Have you met his family yet?’

‘No, we haven’t had time. And we only became an official couple recently. It’s all been so quick.’ Tom, currently buried in paperwork at the other side of the table, caught her eye and winked. Sarah winked back and both smothered grins.

‘How long have you known him, then?’

‘We crossed paths at university. But we only met up again in the autumn at Harford.’

‘Oh, that explains it. The rugby link, isn’t it? He’s centralised management down here so he doesn’t have to travel so much. Good player, is he?’

‘Very good. I didn’t know to begin with that he had a whole other life going on; most of the players are fully professional. He manages all this and still trains and plays.’

‘And manages it well; he’s the best boss I’ve ever had, although I haven’t had many. I’ve been working for him for eight years, since just after graduating university. Considering I’m not even 30 yet, he’s given me so much autonomy to stretch my wings in this last year. I have my own place, and it’s all I ever wanted …’ Lindsay’s voice trailed off.

‘What’s missing?’ asked Sarah quietly.

Lindsay pulled a wry face. ‘My success scares men off. I can’t remember the last time I had a date. I don’t really have the time either.’

‘I know what you mean. Before I met Tom it was rare for me.’

‘Has he got any nice single friends? They don’t have to be good-looking or rich, just not … weird. Actually, that just sounds desperate – ignore me!’ Lindsay laughed at herself.

‘Don’t worry, I’ve a friend who asked me the same thing a couple of weeks back. But, apart from the rugby players, I haven’t met many of his friends.’

‘I expect that’ll come soon. His father is just like him, except with grey hair. His brother is a softer version of Tom. Tom looked after him an awful lot, protected him. Even set him up with the woman who became his wife.’

Sarah nodded, as if she knew what Lindsay was talking about. ‘You should come down to watch a game sometime; tomorrow’s is at home. It’s against the league leaders so it’s going to be one hell of a battle.’

‘Cool, that sounds great. I’m at a loose end and it’ll make a change.’

They swapped business cards and chatted for a few minutes more, until Lindsay had to go and sort out a mini-crisis. Raj and Neil both came over for a few words until Tom finished with his paperwork. The room gradually emptied until it was just the two of them.

‘Had a good chat with Lindsay? You two seemed to be getting on really well.’

‘She’s going to come to watch the game this weekend; it’s my pervasive influence in all matters rugby.’

Tom laughed. ‘Your influence on me is certainly pervasive.’ He leant on the table next to her. ‘Sorry I haven’t been able to spend much time with you; we had a bit of an emergency to sort out. But I’m glad you’re here; I want to get you on board with that consulting. We’ll go to my office for some privacy.’ His blue eyes began heating up wickedly. ‘Not that I haven’t been thinking of having you right here in the boardroom, but the accounting department are coming in for a team meeting.’

Sarah’s body quickened. ‘That sounds like an inspired idea. Take me to your lair.’

Chapter Eight

They left the boardroom hurriedly and walked down the corridor to Tom’s vast office. They met few people on the way and the desk outside his discreetly plated door was empty. He locked them inside, they both unfastened clothes, and minutes later, he took her on the gleaming expanse of steel desk. The contrast between the cold metal, their hasty unbuttoning, and the sights and smells of each other tipped Sarah over the edge in double-quick time, swiftly followed by Tom. He carried her over to a chaise, held her as they got their breath back.

‘I can’t get enough of you – you’re in my blood,’ he whispered in her ear.

‘As you are in my heart.’ They both stilled as she realised she had spoken out loud her inner feelings, ones that she was so unsure of. Clumsily, she sought to cover her momentary loss of control. ‘I’ve fallen in love with those sandwiches; I’ll have to recommend them to my clients as perfect boardroom food.’

Tom didn’t answer, but his arms tightened around her. Sarah tried to bury her head in his shoulder, flushing with embarrassment at her trite remark. Tom disentangled her arms from around him and gently lifted her chin to look deeply into her eyes. ‘Sarah, I know this is early in our relationship but I –’

The phone on Tom’s desk rang and the moment was broken. ‘I’ll have to get that.’ Carefully, he moved her to one side and straightened his clothing before answering the phone.

While he was engaged, Sarah tidied her attire and tried to smooth her hair, trying not to think about what she’d blurted out. She grabbed her handbag and pulled out her compact mirror, gasping in horror when she saw the state of her hair. After fixing what she could, she decided to find the ladies’ to freshen up.

She peeked around the door, sure that what Tom had been doing to her was written all over her face. Thankfully, the desk outside was still empty, so she dashed the short few yards to the swish powder room.

A few minutes in front of a large mirror sorted her hair out, and likewise her make-up, as she patted down the hectic colour in her cheeks. Her trousers had a few marks on them and so, taking a damp towel, she shut herself in one of the cubicles, sat on the closed toilet seat, and stripped them off. As she was dabbing at the fabric, she heard the door to the room open and the tap-tap of a couple of sets of high heels entering.

‘So, how long do you have left here?’ The voice was young and female, with a cut-glass accent.

‘Hopefully a couple of months. That old bag Marian keeps calling to check everything’s OK but she left such comprehensive instructions, only a complete fool would manage to fuck it up. And she’s still coming in a few times a week.’ The second voice was a soft drawl with a hint of an accent Sarah couldn’t quite place.

‘And your plans?’

The second female giggled huskily. ‘Tom’s already asked me for drinks a couple of times. So much for the new girlfriend; looks like she’ll go the way of the others once the novelty has worn off. And did you see her? Nothing special at all: in fact, rather plain. And fat. A bit of an Amazon and not in a good way. I can’t think what he sees in her.’

‘There is her work; he’s probably going to get her on board for his new conference centre project. Despite the way she looks, she is supposed to be good at what she does.’

‘She’d better be good – it’s the only thing that’ll keep her warm once he dumps her in the new year. Only Natasha keeps his attention.’ Both girls giggled. ‘Right, I have just enough time to pop downstairs before I’m back on duty. Fancy nipping for a quick coffee?’

‘Of course.’

There was the sound of water running and the door opening, then the heels fading away.

Sarah felt nauseous and confused. She needed time to think about what she’d accidentally overheard. She sat down heavily on the toilet seat but got up again nearly straight away; she didn’t want Tom to come after her and find her like this. Pulling her trousers back on and exiting the cubicle, she glanced in the mirror above the sink and was relieved to see she looked normal: not the unattractive lump that they had just described.

Quickly, she made her way back to Tom’s office, not wishing to bump into anyone. Still on the phone, he watched her come in and gather her things, write him a note and go to leave. He stood up to stop her but Sarah was too fast, waving goodbye and whipping out of the door. As she exited the building, she concentrated on not looking at the reception desk and headed towards the nearest train station for the journey home.

Her phone tinkled just as she stepped onto her train. It was Tom. She ignored the ringing and sat down. Returning her mobile to her bag, she noticed the paper towel she’d been using to dry her shaking hands was scrunched up in there.

‘Pull yourself together, Sarah!’ she muttered, ignoring the strange looks from her fellow travellers.

Nothing he’d done or said had revealed any sign of him getting tired of her. But what she’d heard sounded too close to how she thought the relationship would end. He’d lose interest or some other woman would seduce him, take him away from her. According to that girl, he’d already asked her out for drinks. At the thought of losing him, pain speared through her chest. That he might only prolong the relationship for business reasons wounded her even more.

How had she come to care this deeply for him? She could acknowledge that her feelings for him had always been complicated. He had pushed into her life, made a place for himself in her heart, and she now knew she had only a few weeks left before he would vacate it.

They still hadn’t confirmed Christmas plans and, with the holiday season fast approaching, Sarah decided to spend some more time with her family. He’d already said his family would be visiting and she didn’t see any point in gatecrashing their celebrations if she wouldn’t be around in the next year. Why bother to meet them if she and Tom were just going to break up a few weeks later? She resolved to protect herself; perhaps try to pull away gradually, not spend so much time with him. Wean herself away from his all-encompassing presence.

And who was Natasha?

Her phone rang again and she picked up the call this time. ‘Hi, Tom, sorry I had to dash.’ She sounded light and breezy, even to herself, belying the white knuckles grasping the phone.

‘I understand, your note explained it,’ he replied patiently. ‘I’ve got to get to training in a bit but I’ll see you tonight.’

Sarah steeled herself to take that first step to pull back from him. ‘Better make it tomorrow at the club. I’ve got some work on your father’s project to do tonight.’

‘Tomorrow, then. There are some overdue matters that we really must discuss. Bye.’ He took a deep breath as if he was going to say something else, but disconnected a second later.

Another Saturday, another home game at the Park. Dark clouds hung heavy in a leaden sky and a damp breeze added to the wintry chill in the air. Sarah prayed in vain that it would stay dry for the game but the first heavy drops descended a few minutes before kick-off. Lindsay had made it, and was huddled between Sarah and Clare in seats in the stand. There was no way they were going to stand out in the open; getting soaked to the skin in the bitter conditions would be tempting pneumonia.

Despite the weather, they were cheerfully giving Lindsay some background about the game and swigging from a couple of hip flasks. Some of the other supporters had claimed places in the sheltered part of the stand but others stood outside, braving the rain.

They stamped and cheered when the team ran out – anything to lift their morale.

Lindsay winced. ‘They must be freezing with only shorts on – and look, a couple are in short-sleeved shirts.’ She continued, ‘I’m only just warm in all the layers you advised me to wear. It’s forecast to freeze tonight, perhaps a bit of snow, and they’re running around barely dressed.’

‘It’s incredible how little you feel the cold when you’re running around,’ Sarah recalled. ‘Especially if you’re a forward.’

‘Oh yes, I forgot you used to play. I feel like I’m in some kind of parallel universe: in England, with Welsh people, drinking Welsh whisky, and watching Scots and others dashing around,’ Lindsay commented mournfully. She focused for a moment as a couple of the players did some extra hamstring stretches. ‘Although I’m not complaining.’

‘That’s the spirit!’ Clare giggled. ‘Here, have some more Welsh whisky.’

‘Most wear those tight-fitting base-layer thingies under their shirts. They help them keep dry and warm. And compression is supposed to improve blood flow and muscle repair,’ Sarah explained. ‘Whereas we in the stand just need thermals to keep warm.’

‘I won’t need thermals where I’m going tomorrow.’ Clare beamed smugly. ‘Well, actually I will; it’s currently colder there than here.’

‘Tomorrow? To Italy? So soon!’ exclaimed Sarah. ‘How did you get work sorted?’

‘I had loads of leave to use up and they didn’t mind. In fact, we’re overstaffed due to a couple more returning from secondments, so –
ta-da!
’ Clare grinned and rubbed her gloved hands together. ‘I’ll do a month out there for Christmas and New Year, come back for a couple of months, and go again for high summer if it works out.’

‘New Year? Fancy a visitor to keep you company for a few days?’

‘That’d be excellent. But, aren’t you spending it with your family? Or Tom?’ Clare leant forward as the game kicked off.

Sarah ignored a dart of emotional pain and rolled her eyes. ‘No, I won’t be. My family would drive me mad and Tom will be busy with his.’

‘Are you sure? He’s planning –’ Lindsay stopped herself and blushed. ‘He’s playing really well at the moment – look, he just caught the ball and ran through lots of people.’ She pointed towards the far end of the pitch.

Both Sarah and Clare switched their attention to Tom, who was now crashing over the try line with half the opposition attempting to stop him. Sarah cursed. ‘He must’ve caught the ball from kick-off or soon after. Damn, I missed it.’

‘Right, no more gossiping for the rest of the half unless it’s rugby-related,’ ruled Clare.

For the next 40 minutes, they stayed quiet, apart from commenting on the game and explaining some of the refereeing decisions to Lindsay. At half time, they remained huddled in their seats.

‘There’s no way I’m walking across there and getting soaked just to get a pint,’ declared Clare, gesturing out at the rain.

‘Lightweight,’ Sarah teased her. ‘Talking of lightweights, what’s this truce thing with Alex Prince?’

‘Just as I said at the time, we’ve agreed not to pester each other.’

‘Alex Prince? Alex, Tom’s friend, is here? Is he playing?’ Lindsay’s voice rose and she looked around anxiously, even though the players had returned to the warmth of the changing room.

‘He’s the scrum half, the number nine. You know him, then?’ Clare asked curiously.

‘I didn’t recognise him under all that mud. He’s my sister’s ex-fiancé. Not sure how pleased he’ll be to see me.’

‘You’re not the only one,’ Clare grumbled. ‘He seems to take particular delight in winding me up.’

‘That doesn’t sound like Alex; he was always lovely to her. It was such a shame when they broke up, but cheating on your fiancé wouldn’t have been the best start to a marriage.’

‘Cheating? Doesn’t sound like he’s changed that much,’ scoffed Clare.

Lindsay was quite shocked. ‘No, no. It wasn’t him who cheated, it was her. She had an affair while they were living together in Edinburgh. He returned to their flat to find her in bed with her boss.’

Clare blanched. ‘
She
cheated on
him
?’

‘Yeah, it was just before Christmas last year. My parents nearly disowned her; they loved Alex like a son and he’d placed my sister up on a pedestal. I hardly speak to her now. What’s worse is that her boss was already married and she had no intention of calling off the ceremony, just carrying on as before.’

‘Oh hell, poor Alex,’ sympathised Sarah.

‘Exactly. Tom gave him a hand to sort things out but he was going through his own personal stuff with his father.’ Lindsay grimaced. ‘It was all a bit awkward for me; my sister and I are similar in looks but not in temperament. I was on the verge of quitting when Tom asked me to come down here and we haven’t really talked about it since.’ Lindsay shrugged. ‘There’s Alex now.’

As the players ran back out onto the pitch, the girls cheered for them and returned to talking about rugby.

The second half became an icy mudbath and the scores stayed close, Harford just a handful of points behind. As the last minutes ticked away, play slowly shifted up to just below the seats they were huddling in, and a handling error by the opposition knocked the ball out into touch. A lineout was awarded to the home team, and Clare and Sarah began shouting for Harford as the forwards lined up to claim the throw.

‘We need a try here to win; three points from a drop goal or a penalty won’t be enough,’ said Sarah.

‘C’mon, Alex! Now’s the time for one of your runs!’ yelled Clare at the top of her voice.

A muddy Alex glanced up to the stands and grinned when he saw Clare – but his smile quickly faded as he glimpsed Lindsay next to her. He frowned, wiped his eyes with his hand, and continued staring through the sleeting rain.

‘Watch out, Prince!’ The yell from the sideline came too late as the ball was caught and knocked towards an unwary Alex. As the opposition forwards attacked swiftly to seize the loose ball, Tom shot across to grab it. He collided with the huge opposition prop and they both thumped down, the ball spilling towards Alex who finally moved to spin it out to his backs. Somehow, the slippery ball made its way through hands out to the opposite winger who scored in the corner.

‘He’s not moving!’ cried Sarah. ‘Tom’s not moving!’ Her eyes were fixed on the two ominously still and quiet bodies.

Both teams’ physiotherapists, wearing fluorescent tabards, dashed the few yards to Tom and the hefty player lying on top of him. The celebrating home supporters and players fell quiet as they realised something was wrong. Long moments passed as they strained to see what was happening.

The prop’s legs began twitching and he was slowly, carefully rolled away from Tom and onto an orange backboard. Several of the replacements carried him off towards a waiting ambulance which had rocketed up a cleared route to the pitch.