She’d had a wonderful few weeks with Cash, beyond anything she could have ever imagined, but she’d be lying if she didn’t admit that having a little space to herself was a good thing. Being around Cash was full-on, and she needed time to reflect on all the new experiences she’d had in the last fortnight: Paris, Rotterdam, the Aston Martin, the tennis. The sex.
God, the sex.
She dressed in her pyjamas and crawled under the covers as exhaustion swept over her. She picked up her phone to set the alarm, and her stomach flipped. A text from Cash. She swiped the phone and opened it.
Missing you already. My bed is cold without you. Wish it was Friday. C xx
She penned a quick reply, and drifted off to sleep, wearing the most enormous smile.
FORTY
Tally arrived for work early, anxious to get the day underway. Although she’d only been off for two weeks, her nerves were as bad as they’d been on her very first day at the paper, and she swept her tongue over dry lips. She crossed the road in front of the building, and a couple of flashes almost blinded her. She raised her arm in front of her face.
“Tally, this way. Over here.”
“Where’s Cash, Tally?”
“Is he off the market?”
“How did you get the black eye? Did Cash hit you?”
A few microphones were pushed in her face as question after question came at her, and the cameras continued to whirr. She ducked her head and, without saying a word, managed to stumble through the doors into the relative safety of her office. She quickly scanned her card at the barriers and escaped into the lift, her knees buckling as the doors ground to a close. Cash had protected her from the reality of fame or, in her case, notoriety. Now that she was on her own, she needed a strategy, and fast.
When she arrived at her floor, the office was in darkness. She waved her arms at the automatic lights and glanced at her watch. Danny would be there in a matter of minutes, and with any luck, he’d remember that she was back and bring her an Americano. After running the gauntlet downstairs, she was desperate for a shot of caffeine.
Her desk was exactly the same as she’d left it a couple of weeks earlier, and she switched on her computer, surprising herself when she remembered her password, avoiding a painful call to IT.
The doors to the office swung open, and Danny sauntered in holding two coffees from Starbucks.
“Hey, baby girl.” He put down both cups and kissed her cheek. “I thought you must be back because of all the photographers outside. How’s that gorgeous man of yours?”
“Heterosexual,” she said with a grin.
“Damn. Just my luck. You okay getting through the hordes?”
“Not exactly my favourite experience.” She dragged a spare chair across the room and gestured for him to sit. “How have things been around here?”
“Dull, although I’ve been living vicariously through you. The TV cameras barely moved off you between points yesterday.”
She groaned. “That’s what I was afraid of.”
“You can’t be surprised, surely. You snap up one of the world’s most eligible bachelors. Bound to be a healthy amount of interest.”
“Who says he’s been snapped up?”
Danny rolled his eyes. “Only everyone. You know better than most what makes a great story, and when a philanderer like Cash does something out of the ordinary, the world’s press sits up and takes notice. The minute you appeared in the player’s box, that was it. You must have seen the papers.”
“No.”
Danny strode across to his desk. He dug around in his bottom drawer and pulled out a handful of newspapers from the last few days and dropped them in front of her. She picked up the first one. It had a picture of her standing, midclap. Kinga was in the background, so it must have been the first day. Tally looked happy and relaxed and oblivious to the cameras. She scanned the article. Danny was right. At least fifty per cent of the coverage was speculation about her. She flicked through the next one. More of the same. On the third one, the photographer must have used a very powerful lens because you could just make out the bruise on her cheek beneath the heavy make-up. The headline was innocuous, but the article hypothesised how she’d got it, correctly guessing it had something to do with Kinga’s absence, although Cash was the culprit as far as they were concerned.
“Just brilliant,” she said, expelling a curt breath as she tossed the paper to one side.
“Who hit you?”
“Off the record?”
“Of course.” Danny leaned closer and bumped her shoulder playfully. “What do you take me for?”
“Kinga whacked me. Hell of a right hook it was too. Jealous cow.”
Danny chuckled. “I take it that’s why she disappeared.”
“Yep. Cash fired her. He was absolutely furious. I felt a bit sorry for her, to be honest.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “She thought he was hers.”
“Ah, let me guess. She was waiting in the wings while Cash got the womanising out of his system, confident that when he’d had his fill, she’d be in pole position to become Mrs Gallagher. And then you came along and ruined her plans.”
“Something like that.”
“Oh, dear.” A slow grin crept across Danny’s face until he was full-on laughing. “Who’d have thought it? Our bashful little Tally nabbing one of the hottest and most eligible guys in the world right under the noses of a queue of hopefuls.”
Tally snorted. “I’m not some shrinking violet waiting for a white knight to come and sweep me off my feet.”
Danny nudged her shoulder. “I know that, but be honest, when Pete agreed you could go to the Dorchester last year, did you think, for one moment, you’d end up here?”
She let out a brief sigh. “No.”
Danny smirked. “I rest my case, baby girl. Just give me plenty of notice so I can get a date in time for the wedding.”
“Trust me, we’re nowhere near that.” She kept Cash’s offer about moving in to herself. Danny was already jumping way ahead, and the last thing he needed was any encouragement.
As Danny sauntered off, she opened her email programme and groaned at the number of things requiring her attention. It was going to be a very long day.
* * *
After the shittiest day possible, Tally went to the supermarket on the way home and bought two bottles of Pinot Grigio. Drinking midweek was a bad idea all round, but given the day she’d had, she needed cheering up, and Em rarely needed any encouragement to join in with ill-advised bad behaviour.
Em was in the shower when Tally arrived home, so she popped the wine into the freezer to chill. Her dream return to work had been anything but. The morning battle with the press had been followed up with them chasing her down the street as she left for the evening, and she’d had to dart down several back alleys to give them the slip. In addition, Pete had piled so much work on her plate that the week ahead was going to consist of early starts and late finishes.
Depression settled heavily on her. She missed Cash. Whereas once work had been her everything, it didn’t come close to filling the hole caused by his absence.
She grabbed her phone out of her bag, needing to hear his voice so badly. She hit dial, her breathing increasing as the ringing sounded in her ear.
“Hi, baby. I was hoping you’d call.” His deep voice with its musical Irish tones was a panacea to her bleak mood.
“Hey, you.” She choked back tears that threatened to fall. I’m tired, that’s all.
“How was your first day back?”
Hideous. The worst.
“Great. It was so nice to see everyone again.” Her voice wavered, and she bit her lip, hard. “How about yours? Good to be home?”
“No. It doesn’t feel like home anymore.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re not with me.” He let out a long a breath.
An uncomfortable prickling sensation spread across her chest. She lay down on the sofa and
closed her eyes. He was suffering too, and right that minute, she couldn’t remember why he was there and she was here.
“I’ll be there on Friday.”
“I was hoping you might have reconsidered my offer.”
The discomfort increased, and she rubbed the heel of her palm over her chest. It would be so easy to give in, to jump on a plane to Belfast and be in Cash’s arms within hours. After that day, she was sorely tempted.
“Cash––”
“I know. I know. It’s too soon. But I miss you, baby. I feel like my arm has been cut off and no one has cauterised the wound to stop me bleeding out.”
He’d described her feelings perfectly.
“Just give me time,” she said.
Cash sighed softly. “I’ve got to go. Someone’s at the door. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
She stared at the Call Ended message on her phone, insanely jealous of whoever was at Cash’s door because they’d get to see him and she wouldn’t.
The time for honesty had come. She didn’t just miss Cash. She’d fallen in love with him.
FORTY-ONE
Cash launched his phone against the wall, watching dispassionately as the broken pieces fell to the ground. No one was at the door, but the pain of talking to Natalia when he couldn’t see her, touch her, make love to her was too much. He’d have done anything to have her there right then, but she made her position clear, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it other than give her time as she’d requested.
He picked the sim card out of the splinters of what had been his phone. He’d have to buy a new one. Smashing it had been rash and stupid. What if Gracie needed to contact him and couldn’t? He checked his watch. If he put his foot down, he might make it before the shops closed.
Several dangerous driving manoeuvres later, he reached the shopping centre just in time and managed to pick up a new iPhone. On the walk back to the car, he called Gracie.
“Cash,” she said, answering almost immediately. “Is something wrong?”
“No, it’s fine. Just checking in.”
“Again?” she said, her tone light and teasing.
He laughed. “I broke my phone, so I’ve been uncontactable for an hour or so. I wanted to make sure you hadn’t tried to call.”
“No, I haven’t. Everything’s fine here. All quiet.”
“Good, good,” he murmured.
“How did you break your phone?”
“It had an argument with the wall. The wall won.”
Gracie chuckled. “Oh, dear.”
Cash dug his keys out of his pocket as he reached the car. “Hang on a minute. I’m just putting you on speaker.” He slid inside and started the engine, and his phone connected to Bluetooth.
“Are you still there?”
“Yes,” Gracie replied.”
“Don’t forget Natalia’s coming over this weekend, so if you need me, can you text first? Unless it’s urgent.”
Gracie sighed. “Cash, far be it for me to poke my nose into your business. If it’s as serious with this girl as it sounds, sooner or later you’ll need to tell her.”
“I know. Just not yet.” He started the engine. “I’ve got to go. Night, Gracie.”
He cut the call and drove home. On his way to bed, he grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels. This house had always been his sanctuary, his place of peace when life got too crazy. But without Natalia, it might as well be a prison, a place that kept life out rather than inviting it in.
He sagged onto the bed and put the rim of the bottle to his lips, taking a couple of long, deep swallows. The last time he’d been this lost was after he treated Natalia so appallingly at Rupe’s place in London. But this was worse. Much, much worse. This time, the hangover was going to be a bitch. He took another swig, daring the bitch to do her worst.
* * *
Cash opened his eyes a crack, immediately closing them again as sunlight almost burned away his retinas. Trust Northern Ireland to have one of its rare sunny days when he had a hangover. He wrapped the duvet around himself as waves of nausea added to his miserable state. Hundreds of tiny hammers relentlessly jabbed at his head, and his body ached so badly he wouldn’t have been surprised to find himself covered in bruises.
He forced his lids open once again, squinting to reduce the amount of light hitting the back of his eyes. Slowly, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, and his stomach lurched as the room spun. He took several deep breaths, waiting for the nausea to subside before staggering to his feet. He shivered and took a tentative step forward. His stomach immediately protested, and he slammed a hand over his mouth, making it to the bathroom just in time.
He didn’t know how long he stayed slumped on the cool bathroom floor or how he managed to get himself back to bed, but the next time he woke, it was pitch-black. He glanced at the clock. Fuck. He’d lost a whole day. His stomach rumbled, and he made the second attempt of the day to get out of bed. This time, he negotiated the trip to the kitchen without being sick. If he’d had the energy, he’d have high-fived himself.
He forced down an omelette and drank two litres of water. That meant he’d be pissing all night, but at least it stopped his mouth feeling as though he’d eaten a sweaty flip-flop. He needed to call Natalia, but couldn’t remember where he’d left his new phone. Using what little energy he had, he carried out a systematic search, eventually finding it in his dressing room.
He staggered back to bed on gangly and weak legs, and although the food had helped settle his stomach, he still had a killer hangover. He had to stop trying to drown his problems in alcohol. It might feel good at the time, but the next day definitely wasn’t worth it.
He dialled Natalia’s number and closed his eyes.
“Hi.” Her soft voice drifted into his ear, and he pressed the phone closer. Just hearing her speak perked him up. “I thought you weren’t going to call.”
“Sorry. It’s been a weird day. Is it too late?”
“Of course not. You sound awful. Is everything okay?”
He tried to laugh, but it came out more like a strangled groan. “Not really.”
“Why? What’s happened?” Her obvious concern made his heart ache.
“Because I couldn’t drown myself in you, I decided Jack Daniels might make a suitable alternative. He didn’t.”
“Oh, Cash.”
“Don’t be nice to me. I don’t deserve it.” He fixed the pillows beneath his head. “Tell me about your day.”
“Pete sent me to cover a demonstration marching on Downing Street against hospital cuts, and some guy peed on my shoes.”
He laughed. “Oh, my poor baby.”
“I know. My life is so glamorous.”
“What time can you finish on Friday? I need to get the plane scheduled to come and pick you up.”
“You don’t have to do that. I can easily get a flight from City.”
“You are getting a flight from City. In my jet.”
Natalia hesitated, and he imagined her shaking her head or rolling her eyes. He braced himself for a battle.
“I can get there for six.” She’d said the exact opposite of what he imagined, something she seemed to do quite often. That was just as well, because the resultant battle if she’d insisted on flying commercial would have sapped what little energy he had.
“Good. I’ll text you the details of where Isaac will be. I’d come myself, but I’ve got this TV thing that’s been in the diary for ages, and much as I’d like to, I can’t get out of it.”
“It’s no problem. I’ll call you tomorrow and see you Friday.”
“Okay. Night, baby.” He hung up, feeling a lot better. As he drifted off to sleep, he vowed that the next day, he’d get off his arse and plan the perfect weekend for the perfect woman.
His perfect woman.
FORTY-TWO
The plane throttled back its engines, and as it did, Tally’s excitement revved up. She’d known spending the week apart from Cash would be hard but hadn’t been pre
pared for just how torturous she would find it. The press attention had been relentless—the irony of that not lost on her—and a tiny voice kept nagging at the back of her mind, telling her she’d made a mistake turning down Cash’s offer to move in.
The plane taxied to a stop, and as she reached the bottom of the stairs, Isaac already had a car waiting. He took her bag and popped it into the boot. She shook her head at his offer of the backseat and climbed into the front instead.
“Good flight, Miss McKenzie?”
“Yes, thank you, Isaac. And please, it’s Tally.”
“I’d be more comfortable with Miss McKenzie if you don’t mind,” he said formally, although his accompanying smile was warm and friendly.
“Of course not. How far is it to Cash’s?”
“About thirty minutes.”
Tally settled into the soft leather seat and gazed out of the window as the urbanisation of the airport and surrounding areas gave way to rolling green fields and dappled grey clouds. She’d imagined the years of war between the British government and the IRA would have resulted in a ravaged landscape, but the truth was far from that. Northern Ireland was beautiful, and Tally couldn’t shake the feeling she was home.
“Here we are.” Isaac pressed a remote on the dash, which opened a set of huge iron gates.
Tally had imagined Cash’s home to be a sprawling country mansion with perfectly manicured lawns, ivy creeping around the chimney pot, and winter pansies and spring flowers giving a spray of colour from within trim borders.
It wasn’t anything like that. The car swept up a winding driveway, eventually opening out to reveal a large modern structure that would have fit right in on Grand Designs. The first thing that struck her was the amount of glass. The house was spread over three stories, and from her limited viewpoint, the inside was very contemporary, all sleek lines and state-of-the-art furniture, although she had been right about the trim borders full of colourful winter flowers.
Winning Ace: A Winning Ace Novel (Book 1) Page 21
