TWO
Cash tugged on his beard as he took his seat. The tips of his fingers still prickled where they’d touched Tally McKenzie’s neck. The smooth feel of her skin and the urge to taste her had been overwhelming. He shook his head. What the fuck was wrong with him? She wasn’t even his type. Tits too big, waist not narrow enough, and she had hips, for Christ’s sake. He liked his women athletic. And blond. Yet when he’d spotted her sitting next to Ralph, his instant attraction to her had floored him. Lots of women caught his attention, although they rarely kept it for long, but something about that one intrigued him. Surely, she can’t be Ralph’s plus-one. The errant thought caused an uncomfortable feeling to stir in his stomach, an alien sensation he didn’t recognise and definitely didn’t like.
He sipped his wine, his eyes automatically drawn to Tally’s table. As though sensing his gaze, she lifted her chin, and as their eyes met, she narrowed hers. A thrill ran through him. He liked a challenge, and the defiant look she’d fired his way was a challenge indeed. He was about to lift his glass in a toast to her when Kinga nudged him.
“What is with you tonight?”
Cash dragged his gaze away from table eight and forced himself to focus on Kinga. “Nothing. I’m fine.”
Kinga raised her eyebrows. “You’ve been restless since we landed on Friday. Are you still pissed because I invited Chelsea to dinner on Christmas Day?”
Cash shuddered at the mention of his ex, if he could even call her that. A better description would be someone he’d screwed for a few weeks and then hastily cut ties with when he’d realised she was hoping for more.
“You have uninvited her, right?”
Kinga laughed. “Yes. You made your feelings on that perfectly clear.”
Cash half smiled. “Then we’re all good. Stop worrying.”
Her head tilted to the side, and she squeezed his arm. “I am worried, though. You seem so distracted. If it’s not Chelsea, then what?
“I said I was fine. Drop it, please.”
“Are you upset because Rupe can’t be arsed coming home for Christmas?”
“I never expected him to,” Cash lied. “If he’d rather spend Christmas with strangers in the Caribbean than with his friends back home, that’s his lookout.”
Cash risked another glance across the room, but he couldn’t catch Tally’s attention because Ralph was busy chewing her ear off. When he turned back to face Kinga, she was frowning at him.
“Is something going on with that woman?”
“No,” Cash snapped. “Now, eat your food.”
Kinga took the hint, and Cash managed to avoid looking over at Tally for the rest of the meal, although he had to admit it took a monumental effort. His curiosity was off the scale about the only guest he didn’t even vaguely recognise, and he vowed to seek her out as soon as his speech was done.
As coffee and mints were being served, he made his way to the stage to greet the audience. Hundreds of faces stared at him expectantly. He cleared his throat and smoothed a hand down the back of his head.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for taking the time to struggle through the wonderful English weather to join me this evening at this amazing venue.” Cash swept his hand around the room for effect and was rewarded with a ripple of applause.
“The Cash Gallagher Foundation may bear my name, but the amazing work it does takes many people—too many to mention tonight—and I am forever grateful for their endless fundraising, their energetic volunteering, and their devoted care of the young men and women we commit our lives to helping and supporting.”
He paused and looked out into the audience, but the only face that stood out was hers, as though the rest of the room was in black and white and she glowed in glorious Technicolor. She was leaning forwards, which gave him a fantastic view of the swell of her tits above the neckline of her dress. Her tongue swept along her top lip, and for a moment, the words he’d memorised scattered. She wasn’t his type, and yet his cock seemed to think differently.
He dragged his mind away from his errant thoughts and forced himself to focus. Last thing he needed was an obvious hard-on. He might have a reputation as having an insatiable sexual appetite, but he didn’t need the evidence displayed quite so publicly. He replayed the last sentence of his speech in his head and fortunately found his place.
“I believe that sport targets the mind and body, bringing them into perfect harmony. Our foundation works tirelessly to help kids channel negative energy into positive outcomes through all types of sporting activity. Tonight, simply by being here, each and every one of you has made a difference to the work our foundation prides itself on. It’s too easy in modern society to write off those who need a little more help or attention in order to be the best people they can be. The Cash Gallagher Foundation vows not to turn our backs on those unique qualities but to embrace them, to recognise their individuality and give them the help and support to attain their full potential.”
This time, louder applause vibrated through the room. While Cash waited for it to abate, his gaze turned to Tally once more as though she was a magnet he was powerless to resist. Supporting her chin with her hands, she planted her elbows on the table, her attention fully focused on him. Reminding himself that there were journalists in the audience who could smell a story a fucking mile off, he tore his gaze away from her and made sure he spread his attention to every table.
“I’m proud to announce that the first graduate of our foundation is here this evening. Aiden Fletcher came to us when he was fourteen years old. Born of drug-addicted parents, Aiden was headed down the same road, but the foundation provided a different path for him, an alternative to his predetermined life, and a challenge I’m pleased to say he embraced with great enthusiasm. Last week Aiden was accepted into Great Britain’s Olympic Academy Programme for Cyclists.” Cash turned to his left and crooked his finger. “Up you come, Aiden.”
A flush crept across Aiden’s cheeks as he climbed onto the stage. Cash hugged him and then stood back and clapped. The boy covered his face with his hands and gave a slow shake of his head as he received a standing ovation. God, how Cash loved Aiden—his modesty, his determination to succeed, his endless talent. If he ever had a son, he’d want him to be exactly like Aiden Fletcher. Cash almost laughed out loud. To have a kid, he’d have to be with a woman longer than five fucking minutes, and that wasn’t about to happen.
Cash leaned forward and spoke into the microphone once more. “And now that I’ve suitably embarrassed him, I declare the dance floor open.”
He drew Aiden into another hug before giving him a friendly shove in the back. When Cash returned to his table, Kinga stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek.
“You are one hell of a good man, Cash Gallagher.”
“Flattery will not get you a pay rise.”
She laughed and held out her hand. “Dance?”
He shook his head. “Maybe later. There’s someone I need to talk to.”
The dance floor was already full, and Cash struggled to make his way through the sheer number of people. When he reached table eight, it was empty. He scanned the dance floor but couldn’t spot her.
Sidling past masses of dancers swaying to the music and murmuring greetings along the way, Cash caught sight of her right in the middle of the dance floor. With Ralph. That uncomfortable feeling stirred again. Well, he was about to find out if she was Ralph’s plus-one.
“Ralphie,” Cash said, cutting in and easing him out of the way. “Hope you don’t mind.”
Ralph’s shoulders drooped, and he took two steps back. “Of course not, old chap.”
“Grand.” Ignoring Tally’s flash of surprise, Cash curled his arm around her waist and easily manoeuvred her to the far side of the dance floor, where the crowd was thinner.
“I may have been enjoying dancing with him,” she said once they had a little more room.
“But you weren’t, sweetness.”
“Don’t be so sure,” she said with
a bite of grit to her tone.
He smirked. He’d been right about her challenging attitude. “Well, unless having several broken toes from your feet being trampled on and bleeding ears from being talked at for two hours straight without getting a word in edgeways turns you on, I’d say I’m right on the money.”
Her soft giggle had his cock twitching again. She was beguiling with a hint of innocence, but her eyes held a certain steeliness. The combination was intoxicating.
“Tally. Is that your real name?”
She frowned but then smoothed her brow so quickly he questioned whether she’d frowned at all. “Yes, why?”
“Somehow, it doesn’t fit.”
“It’s short for Natalia.”
“Better.”
“But most people call me Tally.”
“I’m not most people.”
She made an odd noise in her throat and turned her head to the side. Cash lightly cupped her chin and tilted it upwards.
“I know you’re not Ralph’s plus-one, so who did invite you here tonight, Natalia McKenzie? Because it wasn’t me.” He looked her up and down. “I’d definitely have remembered.”
Her whole body stiffened, and her pupils were so dilated they almost eclipsed the deep blue of her eyes—whose depths he could drown in if he allowed himself the luxury. He repressed a laugh. This woman was dangerous if she had him thinking shit like that.
A bead of sweat broke out above her top lip, and he frowned. Her earlier spark had waned, and she seemed out of her depth.
“Tara Innes-Kerr,” she eventually said.
Cash threw his head back and laughed. “You’re a fucking liar, sweetness. No way you’re a friend of Tara’s.”
Her mouth clamped into a thin line, and she tried to pull away. Cash held on tighter, and eventually, she stopped resisting. His hand rubbed circles over her satin-smooth back, and after a few seconds, her body relaxed.
“What makes you so sure I’m not?”
“Because Tara is a munter, sweetness. And you… you are exquisite.”
She tilted her head to the side, and a soft crease appeared between perfectly shaped eyebrows. He resisted the urge to put his mouth on it.
“What’s a munter?”
Cash grimaced as he tried to ignore the overwhelming need to shower that always gnawed at him whenever he thought about Tara and that one stupid, fucking night. “Someone sour on the inside. Describes Tara perfectly.”
She narrowed her eyes. “That’s a little mean.”
He bent down so that his mouth brushed her ear. Her body trembled, and he smiled to himself. She was adorable. And hot. And so not his type.
“Anyone who knows Tara would agree with me.” Cash pulled her closer, his hand making small circular movements over her back. He couldn’t get enough of how inviting her skin felt beneath his callused hand. Her body was full of soft curves that seemed to wrap around him like a well-tailored suit. Screw what he’d thought before—she was fucking perfect.
“If you dislike her so much, why did you invite her?”
He shrugged. “Her father is influential, and he donates regularly to my foundation.”
“Is everyone here a benefactor?”
“Mostly. Apart from you.” He winked, and a light flush crept over her cheeks. “So when are you going to tell me the truth, sweetness? Who are you really here with?”
Her answering smile was forced, igniting Cash’s curiosity further.
“No one,” she replied as she met his gaze steadily.
He flashed a crooked grin. “If you’re playing games with me, sweetness, you’ll lose.”
“I don’t play games,” she said, seeming genuinely offended. Either that, or she was a bloody good actress.
Keeping a tight hold on her waist with one hand, he held out his other one, palm up. “Hand it over.”
She frowned. “Hand what over?”
“Your invitation.”
Her face flushed bright red, and as she tried to pull away from him, she stumbled. If he hadn’t been holding on to her as tight as he was, she’d have ended up flat on her arse.
“I-I’m not sure I have it any more.”
“I thought you said you don’t play games.”
“I don’t,” she said, a note of vehemence leaking into her tone.
“Looks like it to me, sweetness.”
As panic flitted across her face, he was hit with a horrifying thought. Kaminsky hadn’t turned up. What if the lovely Natalia McKenzie was her replacement? He stopped dancing and gripped her upper arms tightly.
“Are you a journalist?”
“No,” she said quickly, and then her face broke into a smile that would have the hardest man on his knees begging for scraps of her attention. “I don’t think I’m the right sort of person for a job like that.”
Relief that his radar wasn’t misfiring flooded through him, and he nodded. “True. You don’t seem like heartless trash who get their kicks out of making other people’s lives a misery.”
Before the journalist talk sent his mood on a downward spiral, he pulled her closer and spun her around a couple of times, humming out of tune in her ear until she giggled.
“You dance really well,” she said. “Singing, not so much.”
“My mother taught me to dance.”
She let out a gasp. Her eyes widened, and then she smiled warmly. “She did a great job. She must be a hell of a dancer.”
Agony tore at his insides, and he cursed. What the fuck was he doing talking to this stranger about his mother? “She was.”
Natalia dropped her gaze to the floor. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, jumping to her own conclusion.
“Shame my father wasn’t more fucking sorry.”
Her head snapped up, and those deep-blue eyes seemed to see right through him, right into his rotten core. Jesus, what the hell is wrong with me? He had to get away. This woman had a knack for inveigling information he did not want to give. She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, he released her so quickly she stumbled before regaining her footing. Cash didn’t even reach a hand out to steady her.
“Thanks for the dance,” Cash said.
He spun around on his heel and put some serious distance between them. He spent the next few hours working the room and making sure he stayed away from Natalia. The uneasy feeling he’d had when they danced eventually disappeared, but when he stood at the entrance door to say goodbye to his guests and thank them for coming, and she wasn’t in the line, he had to cram down his disappointment that he hadn’t seen her leave. And he still didn’t know who she was.
When the last guest had gone, he sighed and sagged against the wall. “Thank fuck that’s over.”
Kinga stroked his arm and smiled. She seemed collected, but her glassy stare told him she was on the wrong side of sober. “Tired?”
He rubbed his eyes. “Knackered. Where’s Isaac?”
She flicked her head. “Checking the route to your room is clear.”
Cash nodded and wandered over to the nearest table. He poured a glass of red from a half-empty bottle and sank into the nearest chair, sipping it while he waited for Isaac to tell him it was okay to go to bed. Occasionally, fans and groupies hid in doorways, hoping for an opportunity to get him into bed, and a couple of times they’d even managed to break into his hotel room. Because of that, Isaac now insisted on sweeping the route from wherever Cash happened to be to wherever he was spending the night. And then Isaac would search the hotel suite too.
Ten minutes later, Isaac appeared in the doorway and waved him over. Cash wearily got to his feet and followed Isaac and Kinga into the lift. When it stopped on the ninth floor, Isaac stepped out first and led the way to Cash’s suite. He opened the door, signalled for Cash to wait, and went inside, even though he’d checked the room five minutes earlier. Satisfied it remained empty, Isaac handed Cash the key card, shook his hand, and gave Kinga a kiss on the cheek before heading to his own room.
Cash sagged into a ch
air, relieved he held this event only once per year. Playing a hard tennis match or spending time in the gym didn’t tire him half as much as a few hours making small talk. He unfastened his shoes and kicked them against the wall. His head flopped against the back of the chair, and his eyes fell shut, but when Kinga squeezed his hand, they snapped back open.
“It was a great event, Cash.”
He lifted his head and stared at her hand clutching his, knowing exactly where this was going before she even made her next move. He met her gaze. “Don’t, Kinga.”
She squatted in front of him, gripped his knees and pushed his legs apart, shuffling into the space she’d created. Her cool hands cupped his face, and she grazed his cheeks with her thumbs. “I’m better for you than any of those others. Look what a team we are tennis-wise. Think how great we’d be as partners.”
Cash gripped her wrists, and as gently as he could, he pulled her hands away from his face. “We are partners. You’re a fantastic agent, Kinga. The best. And a great friend. But I am never going to fuck you. I don’t feel that way about you.”
Her eyes sparked in defiance. “Yet you’ll fuck a hundred skanks. Barrel dregs like Tara.”
He winced. Her vitriol was too close to the truth. “That’s enough,” he said, struggling to keep his voice quiet and even. Experience told him calm and firm was the best way to deal with Kinga when she got like this.
“What is it about them, Cash?” she said, her voice taking on an unattractive whiney tone. “Why them and not me?”
Cash sighed and wearily clambered to his feet. He gently gripped her by the elbow and helped her up from where she was still kneeling on the floor.
“You mean the world to me, but I can’t force what isn’t there. Maybe lay off the booze for a bit, yeah?” He led her to the door, relieved when she didn’t resist, and steered her into the hallway. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Before she could react, he closed the door and turned the deadbolt. He wouldn’t put it past Kinga to use her not inconsiderable charms to source a spare key card for his room. He loved her, but every time she got drunk, she made a pass, and he was forced to reject her. Tomorrow she’d be contrite and embarrassed, and he’d say it was okay even though it wasn’t. He knew her fixation on him was baseless, but as long as it was there, she wouldn’t open herself up to meeting anyone else, and Kinga was the sort of woman who would want to settle down one day, get married and have kids. Even if he had been attracted to her, he wasn’t that guy. The sooner she realised that, the happier she’d be.
Winning Ace: A Winning Ace Novel (Book 1) Page 2
