Playing It Close (4 page)

But then she’d moaned.
Moaned.
Right there, sitting next to him in a space so small he couldn’t have lain down in it. Suddenly all he wanted was to get horizontal and release the energy he hadn’t known he had left after that bitch of a flight.

She’d fucking moaned—over an energy bar—and that was all it had taken to turn the lift from stifling to sultry. From claustrophobic to intimate.

And her face...he couldn’t describe it. The way she’d gone all soft and happy had drawn his attention away from her unfortunate hair and made him picture all the ways he could bring that satisfied look back.

“You’re staring at me.”

He blinked. “I am?”

“Yeah. It’s creeping me out.”

He exhaled a quiet laugh. Well, that settled the question of how attracted she might be to him. No wonder—he’d started sweating buckets from the humidity as soon as he’d stepped off the plane. A full day on planes followed by a three-hour car journey to the hotel meant he probably smelled like he’d just stepped off the rugby pitch. When he’d checked in, all he’d wanted was a shower and a beer, possibly together. Fuck, he’d be less sticky if he bathed in lager.

Focusing on the firmly closed lift doors, he said, “Sorry about that. Better now?”

“Yes, thanks.”

He offered her the box of energy crumbs again. “Want some more?”

She was quiet for a second, making him think she considered his offer to include more than just energy bars. It did. Finally, she exhaled a sound full of regret. “I shouldn’t.”

Interesting. He allowed himself to look at her again. “Why not? Are you...committed to other food products?”

“Uh, no. That’s not a problem.”

“So, you’re not into bars and you’re more into...girls?”

She laughed. “Couldn’t think of a food you could compare women’s bits to?”

“Nothing that wouldn’t earn me a punch in the face.”

She leaned a little closer and whispered as if she were confessing. “I’m definitely partial to bars.”

His heartbeat quickened, pounding blood down low in his belly. “Glad to hear it. So if those aren’t problems, what’s stopping you from tasting more?”

“It’s...complicated.”

Normally he would’ve flirted his way to a more favorable answer, but he understood complicated. Fuck, she didn’t even know his real name. Somehow, though, that made her reactions to him all the more tempting. Just once he wanted to know what it was like to be with a woman and know she was there because she wanted
him
, not his money, fame or the exposure that came with him.

Most of his career, he’d been surrounded by women who would’ve found out which hotel he was staying in, jumped in a pool and manipulated their way into the lift with him, exposing everything they had. He didn’t have much experience with women who came from the real world.

The fact that Tess was real made her not only more attractive but also more untouchable. He was used to women who knew the rules. Easy relationships with a bit of arm candy—that was what he and they both wanted. He could be the bit of rough who filled out a suit and made a photogenic escort to actresses’ premieres. They could be a pleasant diversion from a career that left no time for anything else...not even the family who needed him most.

He tried to push away the thought of what his mother’s final days must’ve been like, but coming to terms with the grief and guilt was why he was here...his therapist’s words, not his. He would’ve said he was here to get the fuck over it, to erase the haunting memory of what his mum had looked like when he’d finally walked into her hospital room.

His gut clenched, drowning his lust. He needed some conversation quick before the ghosts took shape again.
She’s been here a few days already.
Ask her what there is to do.

Bang bang bang.

They both sat up straight. “Did you hear that?”

“Yes,” she said, rolling to her knees and rapping her knuckles against the doors.
Bang bang bang.
“Hello? Is anyone out there?”

“
Dios mío—sí!
Yes, I am out here. It’s Maria from the reception desk. The repairman is working on the problem. He will—”

The doors slid open as smoothly as they should’ve done ages ago, revealing that they were stuck between floors. A woman in a knee-length skirt bent over to look at them through the gap, a wrinkle marring the smooth skin between her brows. “Are you all right?”

Liam scrambled to his feet and clasped Tess’s hand, helping her off her knees. Relief flooded him—God, he
really
needed a cool shower now—and he pulled her against his chest, pressing his lips against her forehead in a loud, grateful, smacking kiss. She laughed and squeezed him in a quick hug before letting go. “Let’s get out of here.”

The lift was closer to the third floor than the second, but still there was only about a meter gap between the floor and the top of the lift’s door. Liam shoved his clothes back in his backpack before he realized that Tess had grabbed Maria’s hand and was preparing to hoist herself out. “Whoa, let me lift you.”

She gave him a strange look. “I think we’ve got it.”

Tess braced her free hand on the hotel floor and pushed herself upward at the same time Maria pulled. She went up easily, but Liam cupped his hands around her hips, his thumbs braced under her bum cheeks, and gave her an extra boost. Quite a firm bum, considering how small she was. Nothing skinny about it at all, despite his first impression. She twisted in the air and slid onto the floor before swinging her legs around. Lying in the third-floor hallway, she raised one haughty brow at him. “I told you we had it.”

“I know. I’m sure you did. That doesn’t mean I should just stand here like a muppet, does it?”

She rolled her eyes. “Hand me your backpack.”

“That’s all right. I’ve got it,” he teased.

“You
are
a muppet.”

He laughed as he shoved his bag through the gap and she set it aside, giving him room to climb to freedom. But when she reached out her hand as if she was going to help yank him out, he stopped laughing. “Now you’re definitely kidding.”

She gave him an enigmatic shrug. “Maybe.”

Ignoring her gesture, he pressed his hands flat against the floor and hoisted himself up. For one glorious moment, he lay on the hallway floor and stretched his arms and legs as far as he could. Fourteen hours in planes, three hours in a car and far too long in a tiny lift...he’d started to wonder whether he’d ever be able to move his whole body again.

Maria chattered nervously, explaining that her manager had called her mobile to say that the lift’s alarm had gone off. When she’d told him that a guest had just arrived, he’d called the hotel’s handyman, who’d driven in from the village and was now working on the control panel downstairs. Liam didn’t give a shit about any of it. He craved hours and hours of time spent horizontally, starting now.

“We are so sorry this happened,” Maria said. “Please let me know what we can do to make up for it. We can arrange massages for you or give you a free pass to the spa...”

Liam had never found anyone who could massage him as well as Steven, the team’s massage therapist, who had biceps and hands bigger than Liam’s. And he didn’t quite know what happened at spas, but whenever his past girlfriends had gone to one they’d come home with a lot less hair in certain sensitive areas, so that was out. All he wanted was a bed.

Oh, and one other thing. “Can I have a beer? Draft, not canned.”

Maria’s eyes widened. “Of course! I have the key to the restaurant. I’ll bring your beer in a few minutes. How many would you like?”

“Just one.” One was an indulgence anyway. He never drank during the season, and in the off-season he held himself to a couple a week. Some of his teammates arrived at pre-season training looking like tubs of lard, and they had to work extra hard to shed the flab they put on. Not him. He worked his arse off to become constantly better, not to regain what he lost through a month of gluttony.

“And you,
señora?
” Maria asked Tess. “What can we do for you?”

Tess was quiet for a moment, and Liam crunched up so he could see her. She stared off into space and had an adorable
oh-the-possibilities
expression that made him wish he’d asked for something different. Something that would give the two of them more time together. Maybe she’d ask for a beer too. They could drink it in his room and reminisce about the time they were stuck in the lift together.

Finally, a sweet smile touched her lips and she turned her attention to Maria. “Could you tell me if there are any coves around here?”

* * *

Liam held an old photograph.
His mum—eighteen years old and on a journey to discover herself—stood in front of the Taj Mahal.
She shouldered a big
,
brand-new blue backpack.
Liam dropped the photo on the floor
,
stepped inside and watched the edges blur as he became part of the scene.
Women in colorful saris walked past
,
but he saw only one woman.
Barely a woman.
His mum’s smile transformed her face from pretty to radiant
,
the way it had his whole life.

“
What are you doing here
, cariad?”
she asked
,
her Welsh accent stronger than he remembered.
Maybe it softened during those five years she spent in London between this trip and his birth.

“
I
don’t know.
Looking for you
,
I
guess.
Is Dad here?
”

She shook her head.
“
I
haven’t met him yet.
Come back next week when I’m in Udaipur.
I’ll share a tuk-tuk with him from the station.
You can squeeze in with us and watch him win my heart.
”

She shifted her weight
,
and he realized the backpack must be heavy.
He stepped behind her and slid it off her shoulders
,
hoisting it over his own.
She tried to stop him.
“
I
can carry that.
”

“
I
know you can
,
Mum
,
but it’s easier for me so let me help you.
”

She grabbed one of the straps and tried to yank it from his shoulders.
“
Please give it back.
I
don’t want to burden you
, cariad bach.”

Frustration swept through him.
“Cariad
is fine
,
Mum
,
but I’m not
bach
anymore.
I’m not little.
I
can help you.
Just let me.
”

But she fought harder until she began to fade away
,
becoming only a shadow and leaving him aching with regret that he’d wasted their final moments by arguing...

* * *

Liam slept through breakfast. Hell, he slept through lunch too. By the time he woke up, groggy as if he’d been doped-up on pain meds, the sun was already throwing long shadows across the room. He probably wouldn’t even have opened his eyes if his stomach hadn’t growled so loudly he thought a pack of dogs had broken into his room.

He stretched, yawned and scratched his belly as he stared at the ceiling fan whirring above his head. The stale taste of beer coated his mouth and he needed another shower. The one he’d had last night before he’d collapsed onto the mattress had helped him relax to the point of oblivion. Maybe another one would send him back there.

He rolled over and found a massive fruit basket on the table. It hadn’t been there the night before, he was sure of it. The damn thing took up the entire table and overflowed with colorful fruit that made Britain’s produce look shriveled and pale. There was a mango the size of a watermelon and a couple of bananas suffering from elephantiasis.

A vague memory prodded him, of his door opening and closing at some point this morning, rousing him to semi-consciousness. A gasp, followed by the rustle of tissue paper had made him think that he should wake up to investigate, but then he’d thought
Fuck it
,
they can take everything as long as they let me sleep.
Must’ve been the housekeeper bringing the basket. Hopefully he hadn’t shocked her too badly. He’d been too hot through the night to pull the sheets over himself, and definitely too hot to wear any clothes.

He tugged on his pants and flipped open the courtesy folder on his nightstand, searching for the room-service menu. The names of dishes were completely foreign to him. He’d never been to a Venezuelan restaurant before, and if he’d been asked, he probably would’ve guessed the food would be similar to Brazilian. Lots and lots of meat until a man could hardly walk straight because protein choked his gut. But this menu had a nice variety of meats, vegetables and corn cooked a hundred different ways. He called downstairs and ordered a random selection of five dishes. That ought to cut the hunger at least by half.

While he waited, he took another shower, brushed his teeth and explored his spacious room. One whole wall was windows, and even from his bed he could see the sparkling turquoise Caribbean. On the balcony a hammock was swaying in the breeze. He’d opened the balcony doors last night to get the air circulating, and the sounds of happy chatter and faint instrumental music floated into the room. He stepped onto the balcony and looked out at the lagoon and the crescent-shaped white-sand beach surrounding it on three sides.

A dot of pink caught his attention immediately, as if he’d been looking for her—which, of course, he hadn’t been. Being only four floors up, he could see Tess well. She lay on her tummy on a big towel. Or maybe her petite body just made the towel look big. She faced away from the lagoon and was reading a paperback. She wore the bikini she’d had on last night, top included this time.