Scandal (Tainted #1) (13 page)

Scrolling down to her number, he walked back to his car at the side of the street and hit call. There was a dial tone, so at least she hadn’t switched her mobile off. But she didn’t pick up and he went through to voicemail. He didn’t leave a message, just shoved the phone in his jacket pocket and reconsidered using the machine today. He hated the thing though, it was always too predictable.

It had nothing to do with the fact he’d been looking forward to seeing Blondie’s eyes flare up when he teased her.

With a sigh, he opened the car door. It was probably best they didn’t train together. He could think of better ways to make her sweaty and breathless – considering she ever let herself have what she wanted.

The front door to the building opened and he turned around. At first, all he could focus on was her little white shorts and the miles of thigh and calf on display. But he soon noticed how the vest beneath her fleece hugged her stomach and he couldn’t wait to get the full effect when they hit the gym.

‘Bit cold for shorts, isn’t it?’ he asked. It was better than telling her how fuckable she looked without the frumpy suit. That might earn him another lecture on controlling wild libidos.

Alicia didn’t say anything, just shrugged. She kept her head down as she came closer to the car and handed him her racket. He shoved it in the backseat while she climbed into the front with not so much as a smart comment or greeting.

When he got behind the wheel he turned to her, but Alicia was looking out of the passenger side window. Her shoulders were stooped and that urge to make her forget everything bad in her life came back stronger than ever.

She was shivering. He turned on the engine so the heater would warm her before he asked, ‘Are you OK?’

‘Yes, I just didn’t sleep very well.’

The distant tone made him push when he probably should have dropped it. ‘Nightmares?’

Her eyes slid shut. ‘Something like that.’

‘Tell me. You never know, it might make you feel better.’ But she faced him then and he caught a glimpse of how red and puffy her eyes were. ‘Jesus, Alicia. What happened?’

‘Nothing, I’m fine. Can we just get this over with? I have a job to do afterwards.’

He took the hint and put the car in gear. But that didn’t stop him from wanting to ask what the hell had happened to upset her. But she was right not to tell him. It was none of his business and if things were to progress between them, going down the road of telling each other everything would only confuse what kind of relationship they’d have. He could do flings, he could do fun, but he just wasn’t made for steady or long-term. All his life he’d moved from one country to another, leaving behind people he cared about. Permanent didn’t suit the career he’d chosen, no matter how much he craved stability, and it was time he accepted that.

Alicia pulled her fleece off and left it on the bench, barely registering the chilly temperature of the gym. She was too numb inside for that.

After he’d taken her home the night before, she’d gone straight to bed, hoping her emotional overload at the party and the almost-kiss in the car would mean she’d fall into a dreamless sleep within seconds.

If only she’d been that lucky.

Instead, she’d relived the day everything in her life had gone so horribly wrong. If she was honest it had crashed down before that, when she’d let things with Darrell progress to the next level. A shudder ran through her and she hugged her elbows to hide it.

But Sebastian frowned at her. There was no fooling him, it seemed.

He wore a long-sleeved polo shirt, probably because the whole of London was covered in a sheet of frost. Still, she hadn’t shivered because she was cold. On the outside, anyway.

Before she could register what he was doing, Sebastian tugged his shirt off. Slicked with his sweat or dry, she’d never seen a body that impressive before. Not in real life, anyway.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked. Surely he wasn’t going to play half-naked?

‘Put this on,’ he said, tossing the material to her.

She caught it and watched him rummage around in his bag. He pulled out another top, then two bottles of water. The smell of him clung to the shirt in her hands and she knew when her heartbeat increased that she should give it back. But it was warm from his body and her arms seemed to make the decision for her. Pulling it on, she bit her lip to stop a moan from escaping.

The shirt was far too big – she had to roll the sleeves up and it was so long it hid her shorts. But it was warm, smelled like his aftershave, and those complaints became pathetic in comparison to how she felt wearing it.

Sebastian winked. ‘See, all better.’

She turned away, not wanting him to see how true his statement was. The numbness was fading slowly, giving her senses back. Now, adrenaline rocked through her veins while heat pulsed at her core. The way she felt near him never seemed to dull, not even a little.

Alicia was beginning to think it never would.

‘You should serve, I’m rusty.’ She took her phone out of her pocket, switched it to silent, and left it on top of her fleece. When she grabbed her racket and walked over to the court she didn’t see it light up with a call. All she could see was his flexing muscles as he put on the other shirt.

Sebastian then pulled off his tracksuit bottoms, making her swallow. He had shorts on beneath but it didn’t stop her getting a glimpse of his muscled rear. Or thighs more suited to a football player. As her core temperature scorched she wondered if accepting his top was a good idea. She was already close to sweating, was well on her way to panting, and they hadn’t even started yet!

He grabbed a ball and his racket, then jogged over to the court. She stayed in the far box, trying to think through the fluster that hit her seeing him without a shirt. He moved to the box at the opposite side, then tossed the ball in the air.

Alicia grabbed the racket with both hands, remembering the power of his swings the other day when she’d walked in on him training. But Sebastian just caught the ball, then threw it in the air and caught it again.

‘I thought we were going to play,’ she said.

His eyes darkened – she could see it all the way across the court and too late she realised what the words could be construed as.

‘We can play if you like, Blondie, but I thought you were the one who always insisted on work, work, and more work?’

His grin was of someone who knew he was pushing her buttons and it took every ounce of willpower to act like a lady instead of letting her annoyance have its way with her tongue. ‘Have you forgotten how to serve?’

The smile that followed made her heart stutter.

‘And to think I was worried I’d miss out on my daily dose of smack talk.’

This time he got into position for an underhand serve, the easiest shot there was. It would make setting up her next move as simple as a stroll down the street. At first it made her more annoyed, but then it occurred to her that if he was going to underestimate her this early, it could be fun proving him wrong. After all, how many people had ever gotten the chance to get a few points past Collins at the top of his game?

‘I’m no stranger to smack talk,’ she said. Hardly true, not when her parents had forbidden it at their games, but she’d watched her brother play with his friends when she’d been little, and heard language that should never be spoken in front of a lady.

He tossed the ball then went straight for the underarm swing. She could predict where it would touch down, a foot or so in front of her. All she had to do was step forward and volley it back, but she didn’t want to let him know how insultingly easy he was making it for her.

Instead, she staggered back a few steps, watched the ball bounce off the floor a meter away, then bolted to the side for what should have looked like a last-minute lucky swing.

With the set-up, it didn’t make much of an impact on his side and he returned the swing easily. After a few more sets she’d lost two, built up a light sweat, and was ready to rub his nose in his assumptions so they could really start to play – though that might mean he buried her, at least he’d have to admit she wasn’t an uncoordinated idiot.

On her serve she went for an overhead, ignoring his raised eyebrows and ‘Careful you don’t pull something, Blondie.’

Aiming for a spot just before the line at the far end of his box, she tossed the ball and swung with all the strength she had. To see his eyes widen a little before he tore across the court made her grin like an idiot. The backhanded swing he was forced into didn’t have the same kind of power, which made getting into position easy, and then she put everything she had into the return.

Sebastian was fast, and watching those thick muscles on his legs move him like the wind was all she could concentrate on. He missed the shot, as she knew he would, but he didn’t say anything at first – just stared at the spot where the ball hand landed as if he couldn’t believe what had happened.

Alicia couldn’t hold back any longer. ‘Next time you patronise me by playing like a five-year-old, I’ll make the bitch slap sting twice as hard.’

‘You’d think I’d have learned by now not to underestimate you,’ he mumbled, then went after the ball.

Her mood lifted even higher, completely freeing her from the remnants of her dream. She darted over to the benches, removed his shirt, and took a long drink from one of the water bottles. This time she didn’t think he would go easy on her, not if it meant risking his ego.

She needed to be ready.

‘Do you need a time out, Blondie?’ he asked, and she guessed it was supposed to be a way to tease her into action. But his voice was too deep and his gaze was riveted to her torso.

She looked down, wondering what was wrong with a white vest. It wasn’t see-through and her nipples were well hidden behind the light padding of her bra. But from this angle she caught a glimpse of her cleavage and realised it wasn’t actually her torso he was staring at, but her breasts.

The knowledge should have annoyed her, but she couldn’t collect the appropriate ire. She liked his gaze on her – which was exactly why she should put the shirt back on. But she knew she’d have to work harder for the next game, and she was already sweating.

‘Pig,’ she called, making her way back to the far box.

‘We’re onto insults now?’ he asked with a grin that she was beginning to dread.

‘Felt like the moment called for it. How about you focus on the game?’ She smirked when he met her eyes.

‘It’s hard to when you decide to wear that top, it barely hides anything. Or was that part of your ploy?’ he said, raising one eyebrow.

‘My ploy?’

He nodded. ‘Get a point past me so I up my game, then distract me with your little flimsy top.’

After the almost-kiss last night, Alicia doubted anything she did would distract him too much – he’d barely even flushed while she’d been panting hard, like he was touching her. Of course, admitting that would be like admitting how he affected her.

Instead she said, ‘Not everyone uses sexuality as a weapon and if you must know, this is what I wear to the gym.’

‘Treadmill?’ he asked.

Her brows pulled together but then she got what he meant. Breasts jiggling. Not very mature, but still, she had to smother a giggle. ‘And you wondered why I called you a pig?’

The only reaction she got was a small smile, like something had secretly pleased him. She couldn’t imagine the insult had done it, but didn’t have time to think about it because Sebastian’s serve was a doozy. She kept up through three games despite losing a few more points, but with the endorphins spreading through her from the workout and the adrenaline pumping from the challenge, she didn’t care much about keeping score.

Sebastian did, rubbing it in her face every time he won another point. When she got another sneaky shot by him, she said, ‘I thought you were supposed to be a pro.’

That’s when he really started playing. Alicia didn’t have half the endurance or a fraction of the skill he did, and called for a time out ten minutes in. She was panting, shaking, and her tongue was drier than the Sahara.

This time he’d built up a bit of a sweat and as they went for a drink, he pulled his shirt off. If she thought her tongue had been dry before, it was nothing compared to now. Her throat seemed to have closed and her already fast heartbeat seemed to go double time. She grabbed a drink and the towel he offered her, then took a seat on the bench.

The muscles in her legs were throbbing like she’d just broken her personal distance record on the treadmill and kept going, and her arms throbbed with the effort it had taken to hit the ball back as hard and fast as she could.

Sebastian, on the other hand, was barely out of breath.

‘I don’t think I can keep up with you.’

His grin was wicked. ‘I’m sure you could if the motivation was different.’

She couldn’t believe he was flirting with her when every inch of her skin was damp with perspiration. Maybe that was just him. He was a ‘see women, flirt with women’ kind of man. That, more than anything, reminded her she should steer clear. Not like her dream hadn’t been warning enough. Guys didn’t stick around for the real stuff. When the going got tough, they left her.

Not that she’d wanted to blame Darrell at first. They were young and he had her convinced her father was a monster. Until she got home and found her father in bed more beaten than her ex had been, a doctor tending to the cuts and bruises on his face. That had been the wake-up call she needed to start mending her broken heart. Darrell had made her fall hard and left her to deal with the pain alone, but more than anything she could never forgive him for what he did to her father – she couldn’t even forgive herself.

And then when she started to show and her father found out about the rest …

‘Are you ever going to tell me what that dream was about?’ Sebastian asked.

She snapped out of her thoughts and realised she was hugging the towel to her chest. After swiping her face, she tried to find the light, carefree feeling she’d had on the court but it was no use. The endorphins were fading fast, and the drop in adrenaline was making her shake.