by Aimee Duffy
‘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.
‘Alicia, what’s wrong?’
He stood, then came so close she could smell his musky scent. She could feel his body heat, see all those fabulous muscles, and for once she welcomed the slow burning in her core. He wrapped his arms around her and held her so close she didn’t know where her sweat ended and his began, but it didn’t matter. She buried her nose in his neck and let him whisper comforting words in her ear, all the while rubbing his hands up and down her spine.
For a silly moment she pretended that he did care, really care about her. Not just as his publicist. If he did, she’d be able to press her palms flat against his abs, feel the definition and warmth, and slide them over his chest. He’d bend his head, brush his lips against hers once, then devour her mouth like he’d been starved for it.
Heat flooded between her legs until she throbbed to have more of the fantasy. But sex was all he was offering, he’d never promised more. And didn’t that make him different from Darrell? Safer, even. Or was she still looking for excuses to give into a part of her she should have destroyed long ago?
Sebastian was learning a lot about himself today. Like how he should never assume anything about Alicia. It would only end in an arse-kicking – verbal or on the court.
He also learned that he didn’t listen to reason, not even his own. So much for drawing boundaries between them. He couldn’t help it when he saw her mood shift and turn sad, couldn’t help pulling her into her arms and offering comfort he had no business giving.
Which should have led to another problem, because having Alicia in his arms, all sweaty, soft, and willing, was not helping the sexual frustration that built whenever she was close. But he learned that sending a mental warning to his cock that if it misbehaved in any way he’d make sure it lost its two best friends actually worked.
She stiffened in his arms, then pulled away. The confusion and fear in her eyes made him wonder what was going on in that pretty head of hers. Though he wanted to pull her close again, her stance was so rigid he thought he might break her. What the hell had happened between last night and this morning to freak her out this much?
‘I should go. I need to get ready for work.’ She picked up her fleece and her phone clattered to the floor.
He bent down to pick it up. ‘We’ve barely started.’
‘It’s almost noon, Sebastian.’ She took her phone from him and checked the screen.
Her frown made his heart beat a little faster.
‘What is it?’
‘Missed calls from Maine. Lots of them.’ She pressed a few buttons then put the phone to her ear.
He watched her expression and wished she’d put the thing on loudspeaker. This couldn’t be good. ‘You did tell them you were coming here today?’
‘I’m on flexi-time so it shouldn’t be a problem,’ she whispered, then louder she said, ‘Sarah, what’s going on?’
The flush colouring her cheeks seemed to drain away until she was whiter than she’d been when he’d picked her up earlier. Now the skin around her eyes was grey, underlined with dark circles and he wished again she’d tell him what had happened. It couldn’t have been the way he’d almost kissed her in the car. If anything, he should get a gold medal for his restraint and the acting skills it took to pretend pulling away wasn’t the hardest thing in the world at that moment.
But an almost-kiss wouldn’t make her this miserable, would it?
Sebastian wondered if her father had called again – maybe even laid down a few ultimatums. At first he didn’t think anyone could be so reserved. But that was before the party last night. To think he envied people like her growing up for having a home, stability, and a family who were always around. It seemed both he and Alicia got the raw end of both deals.
‘What?’ she said, then after a pause, ‘Which magazine?’
Great. Just fucking fantastic. The missed calls were about some other woman doing a tell-all story. As anger pounded into him he fisted his hands at his side, wishing there was something hard and concrete within punching
distance. When would it all stop?
‘OK, yes, I’ll tell him.’ She ended the call and seemed to morph into the woman he’d met on day one. The publicist who was all business and hadn’t been shaking in his arms a few seconds ago.
‘Tell me.’ He wasn’t in the mood for candy-coated bullshit.
Alicia didn’t hesitate. ‘Taylor Made magazine have just started a feature called “The Beginning of the End”. Mai’s story is kicking it off.’
No surprise there. He’d let her keep their house, the car he’d bought her, and even what was left in their joint account. Still, it was never going to be enough for her. She was going to keep picking away at him until she’d bled every penny she could.
Sebastian sat down on the bench, then wiped himself down with the towel. Now the dampness was starting to dry, the cool air was working goosebumps onto his skin.
‘Sebastian, did you hear what I said?’ she asked.
He stared at her for a moment, seeing she’d pulled together that prim reserve that he hated right now more than ever.
‘Crystal clear.’ And he wasn’t just talking about Mai’s story. Play time was obviously over and that stung more than the thought of whatever Mai had dreamt up.
After slipping her phone into her pocket she said, ‘I need to get back to the office and come up with something to discredit this.’
She didn’t look at him before she headed for the door. He was about to tell her not to bother before she left, that Mai wasn’t worth the effort but his ex’s latest story could be what pushed his sponsors over the edge, and where would he be then? Plus, he had hired Alicia to do the job. He should let her.
‘Keep me updated,’ he called.
At the exit she turned to nod once, then she was gone.
Chapter Ten
‘Is he here?’ Alicia asked Sarah when she arrived at Maine.
Sarah shook her head. ‘He has a meeting in the West End all afternoon.’
She closed her eyes for a second, grateful that she didn’t have to put up with her boss on top of everything else. ‘Thank God. Why didn’t we know about this? I thought we had contacts at the magazine?’
‘I just got off the phone with them – it went straight to the editor. No one wanted the idea to leak in case someone else picked it up. They have an exclusive with Mai for the next month.’
‘Do you have a copy?’ she asked.
Sarah handed her the magazine. She squished down whatever feelings she had for Collins and read the piece like someone who didn’t know him would. It was harder than she’d thought, reading about his romantic proposal after months of Mai barely getting to see him and then the kiss with his partner at the mixed doubles at Wimbledon. Once she’d pushed aside the sting of jealousy, all she felt was compassion.
For Mai.
This was worse than she’d feared.
Alicia rapped her fingers against the reception desk and tried to think of a way to counter this. He was going to be hated by the public by the end of the series, and why would anyone want to back him then?
‘I need to leak something to the press, something to give people another perspective on Sebastian. Do you think Sam could do something like that?’ she asked, the idea cementing in her mind.
‘I don’t see why not. Do you want me to call him now?’
‘I need to get some things together. Ask him to come here in an hour.’ She started towards the corridor, mentally going over the papers she had here. Most were at home, but she could whip up an article for him to give to one of the bigger papers. It would mean there would be more interest in them and she’d have to be careful about being seen at the office, but she could work from home for a while.
‘Will do. But, Alicia?’
She glanced back at Sarah.
Her friend had that look that said she could smell gossip a mile off. ‘When did you stop calling him Collins?’
She almost said just before the first time he kissed her, but that would only open her up to questions she didn’t want to answer. Instead she shrugged. ‘Sebastian’s his name.’
Sarah smirked. ‘And the flush you’re sporting is from playing tennis with him, not … well, you know?’
Her cheeks burned and she turned away. She called over her shoulder, ‘Of course it is!’ Then bolted down the hall to her office before Sarah jumped to any more conclusions.
One hour of happiness was all Mai got after she opened the magazine, saw her picture and payback against her ex. She’d woken Jack and insisted he read the whole thing, expecting him to be happy for her. Instead, she’d seen for the first time how angry he could be. After reading the article, he’d told her to get out while he calmed down.
Two days on and he hadn’t spoken much to her, other than one-word answers every time she was brave enough to ask him a question. But she forgot about Jack and his mood the second she picked up the paper this morning.
There was a picture with Sebastian and the frumpy blonde kissing outside the restaurant, and a story saying there was evidence to suggest Sebastian and his new woman were working on their own charity to give children who couldn’t afford it training from professionals to progress into a career in tennis.
It would ruin everything! How could the media even entertain this desperate attempt at cleaning up his reputation? It was ludicrous. He was a liar and a cheat who deserved every bad thing that happened to him.
And she deserved her vengeance.
She wished she hadn’t called that reporter when she saw him and his new girlfriend going to lunch together – then maybe the stories printed wouldn’t contradict everything she said.
Glancing at the closed door of their bedroom, she wanted to go in and find comfort in Jack’s arms, but she’d pissed him off enough and he hated being interrupted when he was working on a story.
She had to find another, more solid way to discredit Sebastian. Something that would make the public believe her and keep the media attention coming.
Then the perfect solution occurred to her and she had to laugh at herself for not thinking of it sooner. It might piss off Jack a little, but he was already mad at her so what could it hurt?
Anyway, he’d soon forgive her when she finally made enough money that they could get married and finally have their happy ever after!
Still, she had to be careful. Her contract with Taylor Made meant she could only give them an exclusive – but the press followed Sebastian like bloodhounds, so it wouldn’t be too difficult to pull her plan off.
To: Sebastian
From: Alicia
Sebastian,
The final draft of the press release for the charity is attached and everything is set up for the launch. We still need to think of a title. The Collins Campaign/Foundation/Trust? Let my secretary know your thoughts.
Kind regards,
Alicia Simpson
Publicist, Maine PR
Sebastian scowled at his smartphone. He hadn’t spoken to her in days. All communication had been via emails.
Alicia had issued a schedule for the upcoming week now they’d leaked the news about the charity and given his fans something to consider other than Mai’s stories.
It was a pity he couldn’t think about much else. God, she’d bared her soul in those articles and his perception had shifted so much that his dreams were laced with guilt.
Now he’d been slotted in for two hours with Alicia at a press release to launch his new charity, then they would spend a few hours at the club opening. He would work the first day himself, with a retired pro who was friends with his dad taking over for the next few weeks for a small fee. Pennies in comparison to the way it would boost his likeability and hopefully make his sponsors renew their contracts.
He was impressed with what she’d managed to put together so quickly, but the attempt at professional distancing was getting on his nerves. He’d tried calling her and it went to voicemail or her secretary had taken messages. He’d visited her flat a few times but she’d either ignored the door
or wasn’t home – though where she could be when the media were hounding them night and day was a mystery.
Today, driven by the frustration to end this crap, he’d shaken off the press and walked through the open doors of her office. It was risky for her to be there but it would be the last place the media would look and he was certain he hadn’t been followed.
The receptionist’s jaw went slack and he forced a smile he hoped looked easy, but didn’t stop to say hello. Marching through the corridors, he found her office. The door was open a crack and he heard her voice. His frustration melted under the current of adrenaline flaring beneath his skin. The swirl in his chest made him realise how much he’d missed teasing her, seeing her eyes flare with irritation and arousal.
‘Sylvia, please. I need you to do this for me. Sebastian is busy training but Father wants him at the party and he won’t listen to me.’
Gently, he pushed the door open further. She was resting her face in her palm, holding the phone to her ear, and he couldn’t help wonder what party they were talking about. The whole point of this charade was to prove they were together and one evening wasn’t going to knock him off his game.
‘Because it’s intense. He can’t miss two days this close to a tournament and I don’t think Father’s tennis courts are suitable, since none of us can play very well.’
Her father had tennis courts? This he had to see. Sebastian cleared his throat and her head snapped up.
‘I can miss a day or two, honey,’ he said, loud enough for the person on the other end of the line to hear. ‘I want to meet your family.’
The flare of irritation lit her eyes as she glared at him. ‘Yes, that’s him … You’re right, we’ll see you next weekend then.’ Alicia slammed the phone down. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I could ask you the same thing.’ He closed the door, shutting them in the office. ‘Firing digital instructions to me and having a photographer follow me around is not what I had in mind when I hired Maine PR.’
