Playing It Close (5 page)

Maybe she would join him for dinner. He’d come here for time alone, something he never seemed to get. If he wasn’t playing rugby then he was fulfilling his duties to his club or to the England team. Press conferences, meetings with coaches and players, charity events, sponsorship obligations... Mark, his sports psychologist, had told him he needed to get away from everything, to have time alone to evaluate how his life had changed in the past six months. Forget reaching the pinnacle of his career by being named England captain for the upcoming Rugby World Cup. Losing his mum with so little warning had rocked him hard, and Mark had said he’d never taken the time to process it.

How the fuck did you process something like that? She was his
mum
. His biggest supporter. His best mate, in many ways. And the way she’d robbed him of an opportunity to say goodbye, or to try to make things better for her at the end...

His throat seized up. He drew in a shaky breath and made up his mind. Alone time was the last thing he wanted.

Chapter Three

A shadow fell over Tess’s book, and she glanced up at the backlit man standing above her. Shading her eyes with one hand, she could just make out his features. Not that she needed to see his face to know who he was. Golden hair covered his calves and thighs, which looked flexed even though he was standing at ease. His body filled out a short-sleeved linen shirt and cotton shorts in a way that dried the spit from her mouth. She’d seen countless photos of him on the rugby pitch, frozen midstride with his left foot firmly planted in the grass and the right drawn back to boot the ball through the posts. His muscular definition had seemed impressive, but nothing compared to the reality.

“Morning,” he said.

“Uh, you missed morning by about six hours. What have you been doing today?”

“Sleeping.”

She couldn’t tell it by looking at him. His eyelids still drooped as though he were fighting off the snooze fairy, and his dark shadows hadn’t disappeared. “Sleep well?”

“Like the dead.” He dropped to his bum next to her, stretching his legs out and kicking a bit of sand into her book. She shook it out and sat up, crossing her legs.

“I just ordered dinner. Thought you looked hungry out here. Wanna join me?”

He thought she looked hungry? She knew she was thin, but comments like that weren’t necessary. “No, thanks. I gorged myself on wheat germ last night. That’ll keep me going for a few days.”

His brows drew together. “You
have
eaten since then, right? I mean, you’re not...going without food or anything, are you?”

Jesus, first he told her she looked hungry and now he’s made it clear she might be starving herself. “It was a joke. I eat plenty. I just have a fast metabolism.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I just wanted to make sure.”

No, it wasn’t okay. He’d stomped on her last nerve, one that’d been frayed thin by City boys calling her Titless Tess and, once they’d discovered her blog, Scrawny-Arsed Bitch. “Look, mate, just because I don’t resemble the women you typically date doesn’t mean I have an eating disorder. I have a fast metabolism, and I do quite a bit of exercise. As for my chest, you’ll just have to blame genetics.”

His cheeks flushed dark red and he stared at her through too-perceptive eyes. “How do you know what the women I date look like?”

Shite. “Look at you. Educated guess.” It was more than that, though. She’d seen pictures. Lots of them. But she waved her hand in the vicinity of his chest to try to give credence to her lie. “I bet you like tall women with shampoo-commercial hair, thighs that could crush coconuts and breasts that could keep the Titanic afloat. Am I right?”

“You got all that just by looking at me?”

“Why are you surprised? Last night you nailed why I didn’t end up skinny-dipping. You’re not the only perceptive one around here.”

He turned his attention away from her, bracing himself on his elbows and contemplating the water that splashed gently against the shore. After a few moments, he said, “Do you like sport?”

“Some. I play racquetball with friends twice a week, I do Pilates, and I cycle to work every day.” Or, she used to, back when she had a job.

“But you don’t watch any sport?”

Right...he was trying to figure out if she’d recognized him. Should she ’fess up or keep the lies going? Honestly, she would never see him again after Sunday, so what did it really matter? Even though he’d annoyed her a few minutes ago, he’d made her laugh last night. She hadn’t laughed in a hell of a long time. If she told the truth, he might back away. Or he might feel like he had the right to dig in to her own reasons for being here.

Neither of those options was acceptable to her. She’d been at this resort a couple of days and had spoken to almost no one apart from the staff. She’d eaten alone, surrounded by kissy-kissy couples and families. She’d gone on excursions—diving around a couple of sunken boats, exploring the cloud forest in the nearby national park—but people seemed uncomfortable around her, as if being a single woman on holiday by herself might be terminal and they didn’t know what to say to comfort her.

“No, I don’t watch much sport.”
Liar
,
liar pants on fire.
She was no die-hard supporter. She and her father did, however, have season tickets to London Legends, so she’d seen Liam play live at least a dozen times every season for the last five years. Plus the fifty-odd times he’d been capped for England, games she’d watched from the comfort of her couch. That didn’t count as being a die-hard supporter, right?

“What would you say is your favorite sport?”

“If you held a gun to my head, I’d have to say football.” That, at least, was true. You really would have to put a gun to her head to make her say such a thing. The choice between football and rugby said so much about where a person had grown up and in what circumstances. She’d been raised in a lovely house in North London. Her parents had post-graduate degrees and made it clear that university was not a choice. It was simply expected—as was a career where she exercised her brain. Not to sound too snobby about it, but she preferred rugby crowds to football crowds and avoided pubs when big football matches were on.

“Football? Really?” His voice was tinged with distaste. “Who do you support?”

“I grew up in Islington. Who do you think?” One of the nation’s biggest clubs played within walking distance from her parents’ front door. Another reason she grew up disliking the sport. Mornings after matches, she used to have to hose the vomit off the pavement out front. “How about you?”

“Me? Oh, I’m a Liverpool supporter.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Big, big football supporter. Love it. Can’t get enough.”

She hid her smile by biting her lower lip. “Well then. Something we have in common.”

“Yep.” Finally he faced her again. “I’m sorry about earlier. I don’t know exactly what I said to offend you, but I wasn’t making a comment on your body.”

Surprise stiffened her spine. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t even remember what I said, but you took it the wrong way...or maybe I said it the wrong way. Either way, I wasn’t trying to say that you’re...lacking in some way. You’re not.”

Blood rushed through her, bringing tingles of sensation to every bit of her body. “I’m not lacking. Thank you.”

“Shit. It wasn’t an insult.”

“I didn’t take it as one. I mean it. Thank you.”

He jerked his head in a nod. “Anyway, I ordered room service a while ago. It’s probably there now. I might’ve been a bit greedy when I ordered, so I wondered if you would join me, help me do it justice.”

“That would be great. I’ve worked up an appetite, what with all this reading and sunbathing. It’s exhausting, you know.”

“I don’t, actually. Can’t imagine anything more boring than lying around baking myself. I’ve been too lazy today. Need to get out and do something tomorrow. Any suggestions?”

“The spa didn’t tempt you?”

He grimaced. “I’m not really interested in sitting in a hot tub with a bunch of strangers and wondering if any of them are farting and passing it off as bubbles.”

She burst out laughing as she stood and shook out her towel. “Oh my God. Who the hell have you shared a hot tub with before? What kind of people would do that?”

He didn’t answer, but his face said everything. Rugby players. They would do that.

“Maybe I had your girlfriends all wrong. Do you go for the beefy, hairy types with digestion problems?”

Finally he cracked a smile, and it was as if a ray of radiant light beamed down on her from heaven. “No. Actually, I’m partial to mouthy women who can put me in my place.”

She bent to shove her towel in her bag, praying he couldn’t see her face. It was sure to betray the bizarre, pathetic hope that welled up before she smothered it. “Well, if I see any of those around here, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

* * *

The hammock on Liam’s balcony rocked Tess in a hypnotic back-and-forth motion. Her eyes were closed and her arms stretched over her head. Her belly was full of food and
tizana
, a fruity drink like a nonalcoholic Spanish sangria. Who would’ve thought she could relax so deeply without the aid of alcohol?

Beside her, Liam let out a deep, satisfied sigh that told her he’d relaxed too. Turning her head slightly, she opened her eyes and watched him. He’d kicked back in a sling chair with his bare feet perched high on the post that her hammock was tied to. One of his feet pushed the end of her hammock, keeping the gentle rhythm going.

“This is the life,” he murmured.

Interesting, coming from a man many would consider to be living
the life.
What was he doing here on his own? She could understand needing a holiday and traveling incognito, but why not bring along one of the actresses or swimsuit models he was frequently photographed with? Why spend time with
her
instead?

“I can hear you thinking, Tess. It’s stressing me out.”

She grinned and turned her face toward the moonlit beach, where a couple lay on the sand kissing. “Sorry. I have a busy brain. It’s difficult to switch off.”

He grunted, his foot never changing the rhythm he rocked her with. At some point she should think about getting out of this hammock and going back to her room. She’d thought he might make a move, but throughout dinner he’d never gone beyond mildly flirtatious.

“Tonight the night?”

She blinked and swiveled toward him, nearly dumping herself out of the hammock. “Pardon?”

He sat up and grabbed the rope holding the hammock up, steadying it so she didn’t fall out. A suggestive smile touched the corners of his lips. “The night you go in the water starkers.”

Ahh. Skinny-dipping. “Still too light out. And look.” She motioned toward the beach, where a couple were making out on the shore. “Three would be a crowd.”

He straightened and peered over her toward the sand. “I see what you mean.”

The faint sounds of muffled giggles and splashing water drifted over them. Tess watched Liam’s face as he took in the scene below. His brows rose at a feminine squeal. “Yeah. You can see everything from up here.”

Unable to help herself, she glanced down at the couple. The now-topless woman laughed as she ran through the shallows, her wet breasts bouncing and practically glowing in the moonlight while the man chased her. When he reached her, his hands went straight for her tits and he covered her neck in openmouthed kisses.

“I really don’t need to see this.” Tess swung her legs over the hammock’s edge and stood.

Liam tore his gaze from the beach, but his attention seemed to catch on her legs. He let it glide lazily up her body, spreading heat like a laser beam everywhere it landed. When he spoke again, his voice had gone gruff. “It’s a good thing you didn’t do the deed last night. I would’ve hated to miss it.”

Tess swallowed. She had nothing—
nothing—
to compare to the woman down on the beach, but Liam hadn’t sounded like he was mocking her. He’d sounded genuinely interested in seeing her naked.

Adrenaline pumped through her. She surreptitiously wiped her aching palms over the bum of her shorts. Maybe she should test the waters a little herself. Gathering her nerve, she said, “I should go...”

But she let the end fade out on an unspoken
unless...
hoping he might fill in the gap.

He stood next to her, towering in a way that should’ve been intimidating but instead set her hormones into a tizzy. “All right.”

All right?
Seriously?
Damn. That toss of the dice hadn’t paid off. She shoved her hands in the pockets of her shorts. “Um, if you let me know how much dinner was, I’ll pay you back.”

His brows drew together. “Don’t be ridiculous. I was going to eat anyway.”

And there went her excuse to see him tomorrow. “Okay. Well...cheers.” Suddenly desperate to leave before things became more awkward, Tess stepped into his room and headed for the door.

She’d just opened it when he called after her. “Tess?”

Trying to smother the hope that leapt inside her, she turned. “Yes?”

“Do you have plans for tomorrow?”

She should make something up, pretend to consult her agenda at the very least. She shook her head.

“I saw a brochure for hiking in the cloud forest. Come with me?”

The eco-lodge sat at the edge of a national park and was surrounded on most sides by mountains. Tess had already gone on an excursion into the cloud forest. It’d been stunning, but with only a few more days here she hadn’t expected to do the same thing twice. “Okay. Meet you in the lobby at nine?”

Way to play hard to get.

Liam leaned against the balcony door, the shadow over his face keeping her from interpreting his thoughts. “Sleep tight.”

Tess let the door close quietly behind her, her busy mind flying out of control, certain of only one thing: she wouldn’t get much sleep tonight.

* * *

Tess went through the list of items she needed in her daypack one last time, just to be sure. Swimsuit—
tick
. Sunscreen—
tick
. Sun hat—
tick
.