Rupe clipped her under the chin, and she raised her head to face him.
“What has Cash said?” he asked.
“To trust him.”
“Then can’t you do that?”
Before Tally could respond, Brad and Jamie slipped in beside her at the same time as Cash and his opponent walked on court. The crowd applauded loudly, and an excited buzz raced around the stadium. Cash was dressed in his customary black, looking like the dark assassin he was––on court at least. She couldn’t help glancing around in case Kinga had turned up, but there was no sign of her. Cash had point-blank refused to talk about Kinga since he’d sacked her on Monday. The atmosphere was certainly a lot more comfortable without Kinga around.
The match was a closely fought battle, and Cash fell behind for the first time that week. As he dropped behind, he showed absolutely no reaction, seemingly unruffled by being on the back foot.
Tally, on the other hand, found herself holding her breath on every shot. Her legs jiggled up and down, and nervous tension bit at her insides. “He can’t lose. He can’t lose,” she muttered under her breath. She chewed at the skin surrounding her nails until Rupe tugged her hand out of her mouth, but not before she’d drawn blood.
Just as it looked as though the match had slipped away, Cash changed up his game, and with a few outstanding shots, he drew level.
“Yes,” Tally shouted, jumping to her feet.
“He’ll win the next two games now,” Brad whispered in her ear as she sat back down. “Just watch.”
Brad was right. Cash didn’t lose another point and went on to win the championship. He dropped his racket and leapt into the air with a victory punch. Tally clapped so hard her hands ached. Cash tugged off his wristbands and threw them into the crowd. He looked over at her seat and blew her a kiss. Intense pride flushed through her, and her cheeks began to ache from smiling so widely as she celebrated along with the rest of the crowd.
After the presentations were over, Tally slung her jacket over her shoulders. She began to follow Brad. Then Rupe tugged her back.
“Tally, about the work thing. You need to talk to Cash.”
She groaned. “I’d rather talk about the Gracie thing, but I’ll take your advice on that one and let Cash tell me in his own time. Stop trying to cause trouble, Rupert Fox-Whittingham,” she added with a grin to soften her rebuke. “Cash knows I’m going back to work tomorrow.”
She set off after Brad again. Rupe fell into step behind her, and she was certain he muttered, “Don’t be so sure.”
She glanced over her shoulder. “What?”
“Nothing,” he said, giving her an innocent stare.
She didn’t know what Rupe was on about, but it was moot anyway. Whatever Rupe thought he knew about Cash’s plans didn’t matter. Her holidays were over, and she was due back in work the next day.
A heavy weight settled on her shoulders. Just a few weeks before, she’d have been chomping at the bit to get back to work, but after spending time with Cash, the thought of going back to a job she adored didn’t seem nearly so appealing.
THIRTY-EIGHT
Cash tried not to groan or roll his eyes as yet another reporter asked the same dull questions as all the previous ones. This was the part of the job he hated. Keeping a professional, if curt, manner, he answered as briefly as he could get away with, occasionally glancing at his watch. He still had another five minutes of tedious Q&A before he could get out of there and find out if his powers of persuasion were as hot as he’d hoped.
He nodded at Joe Martinez, one of the freelance reporters who’d been on the receiving end of Cash’s sharp tongue in the past. Cash despised him, and the feeling was mutual. Martinez was the most intrusive of all reporters, helped by his independent status because he didn’t have an editor to answer to about his sometimes-inappropriate questions.
“It’s been hard to ignore the fact there’s been a lady in your corner this week, Cash. Care to tell us about her?”
“No,” Cash said, pointing at the next reporter.
“Not even how she got that fabulous shiner,” Martinez continued, cutting right across the BBC woman as she began to frame her question.
Cash curled his hands into fists beneath the table. Natalia’s careful application of make-up hadn’t been as successful as they’d thought.
“Do you have a question about the match? Because if not––”
“I can’t help noticing Kinga isn’t around, although I could have sworn I saw her earlier in the week,” Martinez said as a weak smile crept across his smug fucking face. “Are the two incidents connected? Have you let that famous temper of yours get the better of you?”
Cash launched to his feet and planted both hands on the table in front of him. Struggling to keep his anger under control, he set his jaw and glared at Martinez. “Clearly, you don’t have a question about tennis.”
He pushed his chair backwards. It tipped up, the wall behind saving it from crashing to the floor. With a final menacing stare in Martinez’s direction, who had the gall to stand there grinning like the cocky fuck he was, Cash dragged off the mic, threw it on the table, and stormed out.
Outside the conference room, Brad was leaning against the wall with his arms folded. It was hard to miss the slight shake of his head.
“Quit looking at me like that,” Cash said, shooting a scowl in Brad’s direction.
“You always let Martinez get to you far too easily. You know what he’s like.”
Cash tried to brush past Brad, who instantly dodged in front and braced his arms against either side of the corridor, which prevented Cash from ducking around him.
“I don’t remember promoting you to manager,” Cash said, his scowl deepening.
“All you’ve done is fuel the rumours.”
Cash threw his hands in the air. “What would you have me do? Tell them what really fucking happened? They’ll write what they want to, regardless of what I say.”
Brad didn’t move, and Cash’s shoulders sagged. It had been a long week. He was knackered, and all he wanted to do was grab Natalia and go home.
“Fine. You’re right. Guess I’ll be on the front pages instead of the back.” His lips twisted into a wry smile. “Again.”
Brad’s chuckle was barely audible, but it was there. “Are you still planning on heading back to Ireland for a couple of weeks ahead of Indian Wells?”
“Yep. I’m flying back to London tonight with Natalia, then straight home.”
“Have you spoken to her yet?”
He grimaced and shook his head. “No.”
“She told Rupe she wasn’t looking forward to going back to work.”
His spirits brightened considerably. “Really?”
“Yeah. And she told Rupe she was going to miss him,” Brad teased.
Cash tried to ignore the slug of baseless jealousy that flooded into his gut. Natalia and Rupe had immediately hit it off, but their relationship was more like brother and sister. That still didn’t stop the bite of resentment at how close they’d become, though. He wanted that kind of intimacy with Natalia but couldn’t seem to create it outside the closeness they shared in the bedroom. Because Natalia was the first proper relationship he’d had, he was struggling to work out how to be a proper boyfriend.
“I’d better get going, then, before she decides to run off to the Caribbean with Rupe.”
They shook hands and agreed to catch up the next week. Much as Cash loved the tennis world, he couldn’t wait to get home. It had been a long six weeks, and he was desperate for a break from the tour.
He found Natalia and Rupe in the players’ lounge. She was sitting in an armchair, leaning towards him and giggling, probably at one of his stupid quips.
“Is this a private party?” Cash asked, only semi-joking.
Natalia got to her feet and wrapped her arms around his waist. “There you are. How did the press conference go?”
He screwed up his face. “It went. Ready?”
; Natalia gave him a look but didn’t pursue it. “Yes. What time are we flying?”
“Seven. Want a lift to London?” Cash asked Rupe, who immediately shook his head.
“Sorry, buddy. I’ve already booked a flight from Schiphol to Barbados tomorrow. If my tan fades any more, I’ll turn into an albino.” He winked at Natalia.
“Hardly,” Cash drawled. “Every time I look at you, it reminds me I need to creosote the fence at home.”
Rupe laughed. “Why don’t you both come with me? We’d have a ball.”
“Tempting,” Cash said. “But I need to get home. I haven’t been back for six weeks.”
“And I have work tomorrow,” Natalia said, luckily missing the glance he and Rupe shared. She hugged Rupe warmly. “I am going to miss you. Please come to London soon.”
“As soon as I’ve topped up my vitamin D,” Rupe said, returning her embrace.
They waved him off in a taxi, and Cash’s throat tightened when Natalia wiped away a tear.
“Christ. Will you be that sad when you say goodbye to me?” he said, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.
Her eyes were downcast, and Cash could have sworn her lip trembled. “I can’t even begin to imagine how I’m going to do that,” she said softly.
He closed his eyes before slowly opening them. “I’m sorry, baby. I just hate the thought of sharing even a tiny piece of you with anyone, and that includes my closest friend.”
“He’s like the brother I never had.”
“I know.” He tugged on her hair until she laughed. “That’s better. I hate it when you’re sad.”
She clasped his hand, threading her fingers through his. “Can we get out of here?”
Cash gave her hand a squeeze. “I thought you’d never ask.”
* * *
By the time their plane landed, Cash almost needed his fillings replacing. They’d had terrible turbulence on the short flight home, and he’d ground his teeth so hard his jaw ached. The only thing that had helped had been Natalia’s warm hand in his on the whole flight.
“Home sweet home,” she said, unbuckling her seatbelt.
“For you.”
“You should have let me take a commercial flight. Then you could have gone straight home.”
“And miss spending a couple of hours with you? Not likely. It’s bad enough this is our last evening together.”
She tilted her head to the side in that way he loved, her ear close to her shoulder. “It’s not our last ever evening. At least I hope not.”
He took a deep breath. It was now or never. “Don’t go back to work,” he blurted out. “Please, Natalia. Come to Ireland with me.”
Her eyes widened, and her pupils dilated so much the magnificent deep blue of her irises disappeared.
“Cash, I… I have to go back to work.”
He gave a long, low sigh. “Why? Why do you have to go back?”
“Because I have a living to make. Bills to pay. Responsibilities.”
He cupped her face, his thumbs brushing over her flushed cheeks, and bent to kiss her. It was a cheap shot, but desperate men did desperate things. This was the one hold he had over her, the one chance to persuade her. She opened her mouth beneath his and knitted her hands into his hair. A small groan sounded in her throat, growing in volume as he swept his tongue over her bottom lip. When he drew back, her eyes were glazed over.
“Fuck your living. Sod the bills. Screw the responsibilities. I can take care of all of that for you. I can’t bear the thought of an hour without you, let alone a whole week.”
She tugged his hands away from her face and took a step back. “Cash, I can’t. I love my job, and I’ve never aspired to being a kept woman, a trophy girlfriend. Being a journalist is all I’ve ever wanted.”
“More than you want me?” Another cheap shot. She inhaled sharply, but he was beyond caring.
“You’re asking me to choose?”
“Of course not.”
“Then what are you saying?”
A slow grin spread across his face as an idea took hold. “Why don’t you freelance?”
Natalia rubbed her forehead as if her brain hurt. “I don’t have the experience to freelance, and even if I did, I’d still have bills to pay but with a less reliable income.”
“Not if you moved in with me.”
THIRTY-NINE
She couldn’t possibly have heard right. Cash’s voice sounded muffled, as though she’d been dunked underwater or was trying to hear with cotton wool stuffed in her ears. She gaped at him, her mouth opening and closing in what must have been a very unattractive way.
“Natalia, say something.”
She forced a swallow past a throat that had closed over. “You want me to move in?” she managed to croak.
“Yeah. Why not?”
Cash’s voice was so clear, yet hers sounded like she’d smoked twenty Marlboro cigarettes, one after the other.
“But we barely know each other.”
“I know enough. Life’s short. None of us know what’s coming our way. That’s why I live for today. Screw tomorrow.”
She wanted to scream But you’re full of secrets: your parents, why you hate your dad, and Gracie—whoever the hell she is.
Instead, she said something much worse. “No.”
The light dimmed in his eyes. “Natalia––”
“It’s too soon. I’m not like you. I can’t live my life moment to moment.”
She sat back down and covered her face with her hands because she couldn’t stand to look at Cash’s hurt expression a second longer. This should have been a dream come true, but the nagging voice at the back of her mind about the secrets he was keeping wouldn’t let her take a risk.
When Cash tugged her hands from her face, he was kneeling down, the hurt look replaced by one a little more resigned. “I may have been a touch overzealous,” he said with a quick grin. “Will you at least come to Ireland next weekend? We could do a few ‘try before you buy’ stay overs.”
She caressed his face. “I’d love to come for the weekend.”
Cash pulled her to her feet, his arms warm and comforting around her waist as he kissed her. “I can’t wait.”
Tearing herself away from Cash was the hardest thing she’d ever done, and she cried all the way home, ignoring the pitying looks from the taxi driver, who probably thought she’d split up with her boyfriend when the exact opposite was true.
It was great to be back in London—this was her home, and she loved it—but she couldn’t stop black despair choking her. She wouldn’t see Cash all week. Friday was a long way off. The irony of her mood wasn’t lost on her. She could have spent every minute of every day with Cash if she’d accepted his offer, as unbelievable as it was, but she’d made the right decision. It was far too soon. She’d had a great life before they’d met, and she still had a great life, which would be enhanced by spending weekends with Cash.
Until he played the next tournament. Then there would be no weekends. Have I made the biggest mistake of my life?
She inserted her key into the Yale lock and pushed the door open.
“You’re back.” Em must have seen her taxi pull up because she was waiting behind the door. She threw her arms around Tally’s neck.
“You don’t miss much,” Tally said, struggling out of Em’s tight hold before she choked.
“That has been the longest two weeks of my life. Dump your suitcase, and I’ll grab the wine. I want to hear everything.”
Tally grinned at Em’s retreating back, and her mood lightened. She’d missed Em so much. Two weeks was the longest they’d ever gone without seeing each other. She heaved her suitcases onto the bed and settled herself in the living room, sinking into her favourite chair. She fondly rubbed the arm, relishing the familiarity of home.
“I forgot I’d swigged the last of the wine last night, so you’ll have to make do with this,” Em said, holding up a half-empty bottle of Drambuie left over from Christmas.
“Okay, but I’m sticking to one. Otherwise, I’ll never get up for work in the morning.”
Em poured two healthy-sized glasses and handed one over. “Looking forward to going back to work?”
“Yes and no.” She took a sip, grimacing at the burn.
“Missing Gallagher the Stud already?”
“More than you know.”
Em raised her eyebrows. “So it’s serious, then? Not that I’m surprised, given the length of your obsession.”
“He asked me to move in with him.”
“Oh my God.” Em sat bolt upright, her shocked expression probably a mirror image of what Tally’s had been when Cash made that proposal. “You’ve hit the jackpot.”
“I said no. It’s too soon.”
“Why? I thought you’d have jumped at the chance.”
“We barely know each other.”
“Bet you know each other bloody well in the bedroom,” Em said with an exaggerated wink.
“People don’t live in the bedroom,” Tally flashed back.
Em smirked. “Babes, if Cash Gallagher was in my bedroom, I’d manage.”
Tally burst out laughing. “If you must know,” she said, grinning inanely, “I’m looking forward to getting back to work. I can’t imagine my life being nothing more than following Cash around the circuit. I’d lose myself, and I can’t do that.”
“He must be getting used to you saying no by now. Where’s he gone to lick his wounds?”
“Back home to Ireland. He’s invited me for a visit next weekend.”
“I’ll bet he has. And once the wolf gets you in his lair… there’ll be no escape,” Em teased.
Tally got to her feet and stretched. “Seeing as you’ve got nothing sensible to say, I’m off to unpack, then bath and bed.” She bent down and kissed Em’s cheek. Her friend was chuckling to herself as Tally left the room.
Tally turned both bath taps on and poured in half a bottle of bubble bath. By the time she’d unpacked, the bath was full, and she eased her aching body down into the hot water. The tight muscles in her shoulders began to relax, and she closed her eyes, trying to absorb the unexpected change of direction her life had taken. As the enormity of the last couple of weeks hit her, it was all too much, and despite frantic blinking, tears spilled onto her cheeks.
Winning Ace: A Winning Ace Novel (Book 1) Page 20
