Stay the Night (15 page)

“I’m not a gentleman.”

“I know.” She didn’t want him to be one. “But you could agree to let me take your pictures.”

“No.”

Frustration and desperation made her want to push him. She pressed her lips together, wondering what she could say to get him to agree.

If she were in his shoes, the only thing that would have worked was reverse psychology. She was desperate enough to try it, so she picked up her camera bag and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” he called after her.

“Back home.” It killed her to say it. It was the last place she wanted to go.

“You just got here,” he said, confusion lining his forehead.

“You obviously don’t want me to be here.” Tell me I can take your picture, she willed him.

“You can’t leave now,” he insisted. “If Jennifer sees you leave, she’ll get suspicious and come back.”

Her spirits fell. Another man who wouldn’t take her and her needs into account. Why was she gravitating toward them? “I can’t help that,” she said sadly.

He blinked at her.

She flashed him a forced smile. “Bye, MacNiven.”

“Wait, Titania.” He stepped toward her but stopped far out of reach. He swallowed audibly and said, “Stay the night.”

They were the words she wanted to hear. If she stayed, she bet she could get him to agree to the photo essay.

But it sounded like hounds of hell forced him to make the offer. Was she that awful? She’d have done anything to stay with him, but she didn’t want it like this—not when he didn’t really want her there.

It hurt.

Unable to hold her smile any longer, she shook her head, both annoyed and sad. “I don’t think so.”

“If you stay, I’ll consider doing your photo essay.”

“Really.” Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t do me any favors.”

“I don’t understand you.” He crossed his arms, obviously irritated as well. “I just said I’d consider doing the pictures.”

“You said it like it was a fate worse than hell.” She gripped her bag closer. “I’m damn good at what I do. You should be down on your knees begging me to photograph you.”

“Is that what it’ll take? Me begging?”

She huffed, frustrated. “I want you to want it. If you resent me, the pictures won’t be any good. I need your cooperation.”

He said nothing, but his posture said it all.

“I’m leaving.” Shaking her head, she headed for the door. “See you later.”

“You’re coming back?”

She paused, surprised by his tone. Looking over her shoulder, her heart turned at the hope in his expression.

In the past, she’d have tortured him. She really would have made him beg for her. But she didn’t have the stomach to do that to him. So she nodded, giving him a smile. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

The relief in his eyes was enough to fuel her ride home.

Chapter Fourteen

Ian sat on the examining table as his orthopedic surgeon probed his knee. He kept his gaze up, not wanting to see his hacked-up flesh or the thick scars that were still livid from all the surgeries. He considered reading the book he brought with him, but he couldn’t concentrate.

He didn’t need a prognosis or to see the doctor’s expression to know his knee wasn’t healing as quickly as he wanted. He gripped the edge of the table and glared at the man, daring him to say the words.

You won’t be able to play football at a competitive level.

“It’s something of a miracle, quite frankly,” the man finally proclaimed.

Ian frowned. “Excuse me?”

“When I operated on you the first time, I’d have thought that you’d need a cane to help you walk for the rest of your life.” He pushed back on the rolling chair and took his glasses off. “The ease with which you’re getting around is amazing.”

“It aches,” Ian admitted reluctantly.

“I’m shocked it doesn’t hurt more than it does. I did a good job.”

He was witnessing his career end and the doctor was patting himself on the back for his handiwork? He glared at the man. “It buckled yesterday during drilling exercises. There must be something more I can do.”

“Do what you’re doing now. It seems to be working.” The doctor pulled an iPad closer and began typing notes. “Your knee is much stronger than it was three weeks ago.”

“When will it be ready to play?”

The man continued writing as though Ian hadn’t said anything. Ian was about to grab him and shake him by his coat when the doctor looked up. “If you mean play professionally, never.”

“That’s unacceptable.” He had two and a half weeks to be in fighting shape. He’d promised the team, and they were counting on him. He didn’t need this negativity. He was tempted to throw his book at the doctor. Happy endings were absolutely bollocks.

“That’s reality.” The doctor frowned. “Your knee was completely blown out in the accident. It’s a bloody miracle that I was able to put any of it back together much less in such good working shape. While it’s stable, it’s never going to be the way it once was. You’re going to have to accept that.”

He crossed his arms. “The only thing I’m going to accept is playing in two weeks.”

“You can play, just not on the level you played before.” The doctor stood, shutting the cover on the iPad. “You’d be best off coming to terms with your new reality.”

He glared at the doctor’s retreating back as the door closed behind him. He sat for a moment, head hung. Then he stood, gritting his teeth against the pain in his knee, and pulled his pants on.

Rowdy waited for him in the lobby. He looked up, his expression wary as he stood. “You look like the doc only gave you a few days to live.”

He may as well have, because if Ian couldn’t play football there was no reason for living. “Let’s go.”

“Oo-kay.” Rowdy fell into step beside him. “If you aren’t going to tell me what the guy said, want to tell me where we’re going?”

“The pub.” He needed a drink—or five.

Rowdy nodded and pulled out the car keys. “I know exactly where to take you.”

They got in the car and after a harrowing drive where Rowdy only forgot to drive on the correct side of the road twice, they stopped.

Ian looked out the window and frowned. “This isn’t the pub.”

“It’s sure not.” Rowdy smiled at him like he’d made a particularly brilliant observation.

He glared at his so-called friend. “I wanted to go to a pub.”

“Maybe if you’re lucky, you can have a drink with Goldie.”

Ian looked back at the house. “Titania lives here?”

“Yep,” Rowdy said, sounding smug.

The house was a monstrosity. It looked a bit shabby on the outside, neglected for some time. He’d never have pegged Titania to live someplace like this. The sort of woman who lived in a house like this walked around in furs, dripped with jewelry, and carried a little dog named Fifi. She didn’t wear Converse trainers and jeans. She didn’t harass him about taking his picture.

Though she hadn’t been back to his flat for two days.

Two days
without her.

A week ago he’d have rejoiced. Now, he wanted to punch a wall. She said she’d be back.

She’d somehow wiggled her way under his skin. He liked the way she gave as good as she got. She verbally sparred with him, and that excited him.

Not in the way her body excited him. He remembered how she looked in her wet underwear, the fabric clinging to her, water dripping down her lean limbs, and he felt himself begin to harden.

But she hadn’t come back.

In short order, she’d become such a part of his life. He didn’t know what to do with that. He was supposed to be focused on winning the Cup.

Not that it was going to happen now.

Crossing his arms, he scowled at the house. “She left.”

“Well, you haven’t exactly been welcoming, have you?” Rowdy perched his wrist on the top of the steering wheel. “You won’t let her take your picture, and you keep sending her away.”

“I told her she could stay the night!”

“Because it served you to do it,” Rowdy pointed out calmly. “If you weren’t trying to get rid of that nurse, Goldie wouldn’t have had to rescue you, would she?”

He narrowed his eyes at the man he used to call brother. “How do you know that?”

“Goldie told me. I talked to her yesterday.”

“You talked to her, and you didn’t tell me?”

Rowdy shrugged. “You didn’t ask. I took her to lunch. How do you think I know where she lives?”

“She has you wrapped around her little finger, does she?”

Rowdy threw his head back in laughter. “Yeah, right, dude. Because that’s what she does, sweet talks people into doing her whims.”

Ian grumbled under his breath, realizing how ridiculous that was but not willing to admit his folly. Instead he got out of the car and limped toward the front door.

“Mac!”

He looked over his shoulder.

Rowdy leaned out of the window. “I met a hot physical therapist while I was waiting for you. I’m taking her to dinner, so don’t wait up for me. She’s going to show me how to beef up my muscles.”

He arched his brow at the man, who already looked as built as a wrestler. “Your muscles look healthy enough to me.”

“It’s a certain muscle in particular I’m hoping she’ll help me with, if you know what I mean.” He winked.

Shaking his head, he resumed the slow, achy walk up the walkway.

“Mac!”

Exhaling, he turned. “What?”

“She’s a good egg,” his friend said softly. “You can trust her.”

Then Rowdy saluted and slowly pulled away from the curb.

Watching Rowdy drive away made Ian oddly melancholy. Combined with his doctor’s parting advice, he was ready to hail a cab and go to a pub on his own. It was that or let Titania badger him.

He continued up the walk, pausing at the door. What was he doing?

The door suddenly opened, and an elegant-looking older woman with a purse in the crook of her arm blinked at him in surprise. She looked familiar, but he wasn’t sure if it was because he’d met her before or because she looked like an older version of Titania.

Titania was going to be stunning when she was older.

The woman smiled warmly and held out her hand. “You’re Ian MacNiven. I’m Jacqueline Summerhill. We met last year at a charity event.”

He shook her hand, though a woman like Jacqueline Summerhill really should have had her hand kissed.

“I’m leaving, and you’re here to see Titania, I believe.” She arched her brow at him.

What had Titania told her about him? “Yes.”

“She’s in the study. Down the hall, first door on the left.” Patting his arm, she smiled again and left, closing the door behind her.

He walked toward the doorway Jacqueline had indicated and looked inside. Titania sat in front of an unlit fireplace, photos of different sizes spread out around her, like she was sorting through them. The sun filtered in from the far window and lit her hair, making her look like an angel.

He took a step toward her and his knee buckled. Gasping, he slapped a hand on the wall to keep himself from falling.

“What are you doing?” Titania exclaimed as she hopped up and rushed toward him.

He held his hand out. “I’m fine,” he said tightly.

She snorted. “And by
fine
you mean you’re in pain?”

“It’s just a twinge.”

She arched her fine brows, looking like a haughty goddess. “Really.”

He glared at her, daring her to say otherwise.

After a brief staring contest, she rolled her eyes. “Sit,” she said, pointing to a chair near the spot where she’d been sitting.

He wanted to argue, just for the sake of it—to spar with her to feel that spark of being alive, especially now that the doctor thought his career was dead.

He closed his eyes and remembered when he ran and did drills for hours at a time. He’d taken it for granted then, but now he realized what a gift it’d been, to do what he loved for a living.

“You aren’t sitting,” he heard her voice approach.

He opened his eyes to find her carrying a tumbler with whiskey. She held it up out of his reach, as if it was bait. “If you don’t sit, you don’t get it.”

Glaring at her, he hobbled over to the chair and held his hand out. “Whiskey.”

She arched her brow but handed it to him.

The first sip burned a path to his belly, but it didn’t erase any of the day’s bitterness. He wasn’t sure there was enough whiskey in the world to do that.

Titania kneeled on the floor in front of him, taking his leg and propping it gently on a little stool. She didn’t touch his knee, instead massaging his thigh. “This is a surprise. I know you didn’t come here for the whiskey. Your father’s is much finer.”

Her fingers kneading into his leg felt incredible. He relaxed into the cushions, feeling some of his tension melt away.

“I guess Rowdy told you where I live,” she continued. “It’s still a surprise seeing you. You don’t like having me around.”

He scowled at her. “That’s not true. I asked you to stay.”

When she arched her brow, she looked very much like the woman who’d let him in. “Want to tell me what has your knickers in a pinch?” she asked.

“No.”

She gave him a flat look. “Would it help you to throw something?”

“No.”

“Hm.” After a long pause, she asked, “Are you here to tell me you’re going to let me do the photo essay.”

“No.” Although he was tempted to say yes if she promised to rub him forever.

Just then her hand went lower, closer to his knee, and he stiffened.

She stilled, looking up at him. “Does that hurt?”

Like hell, in so many ways. He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I went to the doctor today.”

Titania glanced at his knee and then sat back. “I guess he didn’t tell you what you wanted to hear.”

“He said I wouldn’t be able to play professionally. He thinks I need to come to terms with my new reality,” Ian added, the words sour in his mouth.

She put her hand on his leg. “Why do you want to play so badly?”

“It’s all I’ve ever known.”

“But you couldn’t have played forever,” she pointed out. “What did you think you’d do after?”

“I never gave it any thought.”

“I don’t believe that.”