Playing It Close (28 page)

She waved away his teasing. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve been hearing lots of jokes about our World Series. I think I’ve been here long enough that I can say
sod off
and get away with it.”

He laughed. “I’m not original? You wound me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Right. Now, what’s this I hear about a woman in your life?”

Spencer cleared his throat so loudly it sounded like he had a horse stuck back there. Liam hadn’t told him about Tess, but he wasn’t surprised Spence had figured out something was going on. “Woman? What woman?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Liam Callaghan. I hear she’s not your usual type.”

That piqued his interest. “And what, exactly, is my ‘usual type’?”

An uncomfortable silence filled the room. He glanced from Caitlyn to Spencer to Philip, and each of them apparently had better things to look at than him. “What?”

Caitlyn opened her mouth to speak, but Spencer laid his hand on her thigh and said, “Don’t.”

Liam’s shoulders tensed and he leaned forward. “Do, Caitlyn. What’s my usual type?”

She grimaced. “Forget I said anything. Again—hormones.”

He glanced at his best mate, who was no help at all, shoving a handful of chocolates into his mouth so it was too full for words. Philip took a long sip of his beer. Liam kept a steady gaze on him, waiting for him to come up for air, but he just kept guzzling until he’d drained it. Before Liam could press him, though, he set the glass down and chucked another chocolate in his gob.

Unwilling to give up, Liam focused on the one he figured would give in first. “Caitlyn...”

Spencer jumped up. “Caitlyn and Granddad just finished decorating the nursery. Come look.”

Incredulous, Liam couldn’t stop himself from bursting out, “You’ve got to be kidding me. Why the fuck would I want to do that?”

Spencer, who had several inches and at least a couple of stone on him, grabbed Liam by the shoulder and dragged him off the couch, saying through gritted teeth, “Because I think you’ll like the shade of yellow they chose.”

After being steered across the living room and shoved into the nursery—which was painted a shade of yellow that Liam would describe as
yellow
—he planted his feet and faced his best mate. “What’s going on?”

“You’re sleeping with our sponsor.”

“No, I’m sleeping with his cousin.”

“Whatever. All I told Caitlyn was that she seems nice.”

That brought Liam up short. “Nice? She seems nice?”

“Yeah, she does.”

“And
that’s
why Caitlyn says she’s not my usual type?”

Spencer grimaced and nodded.

“Fucking hell, I—” Liam mentally catalogued the other women he’d been with since Caitlyn had known him. Megan Grable, who had propositioned Spencer right in front of him and nearly managed to break up Caitlyn and Spencer. “All right, so Megan was a mistake.”

“Huge mistake, mate. Huge.”

“Fine, but after her there was Natália.” The Brazilian supermodel so famous she only needed one name. They’d slept together for a few months, and he still didn’t know her surname. He knew what cut of diamonds she liked, though. “Okay, she was a little shallow.”

“Shallow?” Spencer laughed. “The only time we met her, she completely blanked Caitlyn. Didn’t even shake her hand. She left her hanging, Liam.”

He cringed. “That might’ve been my fault. I was bragging about what Caitlyn does for a living before we met up with you. I don’t think she understood that Cait hadn’t actually built any sewerage systems that day. Her English wasn’t great, you know.”

Spencer’s eyes narrowed. “So it’s okay for her to ignore my wife because she thought she was dirty?”

“No! That’s not what I mean. I just—” Liam conceded with a sigh. “No, it’s not all right.”

“How about Angie Sutter?”

Liam shifted uncomfortably, remembering the singer he’d been with at the beginning of the year, when everything turned to shit.

Spencer’s voice softened. “Mate, she was in London when your mum died. She never phoned you, much less came to Cardiff to help you sort through your mum’s things.”

He swallowed hard, memories of that week still too raw to discuss without his throat swelling. “I wouldn’t have wanted her to. I didn’t ask her to.”

Spencer said nothing, but he didn’t have to. Liam hadn’t asked him and Caitlyn to visit, either, but they’d turned up and done everything they could’ve—from making sure he ate when he was too shocked to look after himself, to figuring out how to sell his mum’s house. Caitlyn had even helped him clean out his mum’s things and had been by his side when he’d discovered his mum’s backpack and a photo of her taken in front of the Taj Mahal, which he still kept in his wallet. Caitlyn’s calm, steady presence had made it less awkward when he’d broken down and wept on her shoulder like a little...er, boy.

“Tess isn’t like any of them,” he said.

“Like I said, she seems nice.”

It was more than that, though. He’d viewed his previous relationships as give-and-take from both sides. He got to be part of a flashy world of fame and fortune, and he’d always enjoyed buying gifts and taking care of his girlfriends however they needed him to, up to a point. He gave shallow and he got shallow.

Tess was the exact opposite. He wanted something more from her, but she didn’t seem to want anything from him. She certainly never asked and, unless he was dense, she’d never hinted. The realization left him off balance. What did he have to offer if there was nothing she wanted?

Until tonight, he hadn’t realized the reason why that made him uncomfortable. It was almost as if she didn’t ask because she
expected
nothing.

Liam tried to push the brutal analysis of his love life from his mind. Too many other priorities competed for his attention. He needed to concentrate on other things. More important things. Winning things.

But the conversation gnawed at the back of his brain throughout dinner. Unsettled, he made his excuses early and texted Tess. He would’ve loved to surprise her by going over to hers instead—felt less like a cheap booty-call that way—but he was so shattered he knew he wouldn’t make it all the way to Stoke Newington.

When she arrived with nothing but her handbag, his earlier worry about why she didn’t want anything from him lurched inside him, and he snapped. “You know you’re going to sleep over, Tess. Why not bring your clothes for tomorrow?”

Still standing in the doorway, she blinked at him. “Hello to you too. Tough day?”

He grunted.

She raised herself on her toes and kissed him softly, stroking his cheek. “I didn’t bring my clothes because I don’t want to make any assumptions. I don’t want to push too hard for there to be an ‘us.’ If we get to the end of the night and we both want me to stay, then I’ll stay. But if I decide I want to leave because you’re being a big growly bear, then I’ll leave. Simple as that.”

It hadn’t occurred to him that she might take the decision to leave herself. He was used to being the one who decided to ask a woman to stay over, and so far no one had refused. In fact, they sometimes brought several changes of clothing and tried to colonize his wardrobe before he was ready to see silky underpants folded next to his briefs. The thought of Tess deciding that she didn’t want to fall asleep snuggled up with him left him hollow inside.

She must’ve read something of his thoughts because she wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him. “I did bring something that might cheer you up.”

“It’ll have to be something really good,” he grumbled.

She reached into her handbag and drew out a small bottle, which he took from her. One of his brows lifted. “Sensual body massage oil? You want me to give you a massage?”

Her smile turned to a frown. “No, I was going to massage you. I thought you might need a little help relaxing tonight.”

The pressure that’d been growing inside him all evening finally started to break up and dissolve. Leaning his forehead against hers, he held her closer. Later he would have to examine why he’d be upset at the thought that the first thing she’d asked for from him was a sexual favor.

After that, the pattern of their weeks grew routine. He split his time between stadiums in England and Wales, and it was difficult to switch his mind off when he fell asleep in hotels unless he called her for a quick chat before bed.

Tess understood his frustrations better than any of his previous partners, who’d known nothing about rugby. She listened to him grouse and shared his triumphs without him having to explain why a day had gone well or gone to shit. She seemed to learn how to deal with his moods—when he needed to silently stew before he could talk to her, when he needed the quick relief of hard, sweaty phone sex and when he needed his ego stroked.

Things shifted around inside him—things he’d never felt shifting before. She did all this for him, yet he still couldn’t figure out what she needed so he could give it to her.

Chapter Seventeen

After an evening romancing the England team sponsors, Liam decided to drop by Tess’s place. It was gone eleven, well past his bedtime, but he’d grown to hate crawling into bed alone. Besides, it was a Friday night, so she wouldn’t have to wake up early the next morning and he didn’t have to be at the training ground until the afternoon.

He knocked on her door and waited. And waited. After a full minute, he glanced at her living room window. Light shone through the curtains, so unless she left it on to fool burglars she was definitely home. He rapped his knuckles harder and was debating whether to call when he heard the tumble of the lock being released. She pulled open the door with a puzzled expression.

“Liam? What’re you doing here? I thought you were busy tonight.”

There went his fantasy of her throwing herself into his arms. “I—I just wanted to see you.”

The confusion on her face softened, but she threw a glance over her shoulder at the same time a man’s laugh came from the vicinity of the living room. His throat clenched in disbelief.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” she said.

“Yeah, I can see that.” He fought to keep the shock from his voice. He’d never expected fidelity in his relationships before. He’d never even really seen them as relationships. So what was this sharp, hot-as-lightning pain arcing through his chest?

Her brow furrowed and her voice dropped even lower. “My family’s here. We’re having a birthday party for my dad. You’d better leave quickly because they’ll get curious in a second.”

Her family? Meet her family? It sounded equal amounts terrifying and appealing. Before he could make up his mind, a woman’s voice called out, “Tessy! Where are you?”

Tess grimaced and whispered. “You’ve got about ten seconds to escape. I just happened to hear the door on my way down the stairs. They don’t know anyone’s here. If you’re quick—”

He was quick. He pushed the door the rest of the way open, slowly enough that she could step out of the way, and closed it behind him. Leaning down, he captured her lips with his and murmured, “I’d like to meet your family...Countess.”

She swatted his arm. “Don’t call me that.”

Smiling, he stroked her cheek with his thumb. “I’ve met your dad and he’s already spilled embarrassing secrets about you. What else do you think I can find out from the people who gave their daughter such a ridiculous name?”

She grimaced. “As to that...there’s a story behind that. But seriously, you need to go.”

She tried to push him out the door but was interrupted by an Amazon of a young woman who teetered out of the living room, an unsteady wineglass held in her hand. “Tess—whoa!”

The woman spun back toward the living room, bracing her tipsy self against the doorjamb. “Dad! C’mere! You’ll never guess who’s here.”

Tess briefly closed her eyes before giving him a pleading look. “We can work out a cover story.”

A cover story? Okay, their relationship was supposed to be private—maybe even secret—but this was her family. Did she worry he wasn’t ready for this step?

He probably wasn’t, truth be told. But he wasn’t prepared to lie, either.

The big man he’d met at the start of the season came out to the hallway, his perplexed face brightening when he saw Liam. Almost comically, he glanced between Liam and Tess, clearly trying to work out what was going on. Several other faces poked out of the living room door. A couple of people gasped and one woman whispered, “Who’s that?” before being shushed.

Tess shifted uncomfortably next to him. “I asked Liam if he’d come over...as a birthday surprise for Dad,” she finished lamely. “Happy birthday, Dad!”

Ben Chambers lowered a brow, making it obvious he knew she was full of shit. “Thanks, littl’un, but next time how about getting me a stripper?” he joked, grunting when the woman next to him elbowed him in the ribs.

“Why do think I’m here, mate?” Liam tried for levity, and it seemed to work for most of the crowd, but the fact that Tess was passing off their relationship as something else made him burn. He needed her to acknowledge him to this private group—fuck the consequences. He reached for her hand and forced his fingers through hers, wrapping his free hand around the outside so he cradled her fist in a gesture that made it clear they were intimate. And just in case anyone in his audience was an idiot, he said, “Actually, I wanted to see Tess. I didn’t know she had guests over.”

The group exchanged significant glances while Liam tried to figure out which of the women was Tess’s mum. After meeting her dad, he’d figured Tess had to take after her mum. How could a man that big and blond breed a woman as petite as Tess unless he had a tiny wife? But the women of the group all looked built from the same genetic material as Ben and Charlie Chambers. This was a family descended from Viking warriors. The women could easily be named Hildegard or Brunhilda. Not a single one of them looked like Tess, and he began to suspect the funny story she’d mentioned about her name a few moments ago.

“Come in,” Tess said to him. “They’re not as rude as you might think, though they’re doing a damn good impression, standing there staring at you.”

A couple of people chuckled and disappeared back into the living room. Apparently the ones who hadn’t recognized him were being schooled now because he heard a hissed whisper of “Liam Callaghan...rugby
legend
.”