Playing to Win

by Shelley Munro

  Kate snorted inelegantly. “Oh please. A female fan, poster boy.”

  Startled surprise marched across his face and his mouth curved into a delighted grin. “Poster boy, huh?”

  “I’m serious.” Kate’s mouth quivered with the need to join the joke, but she had a point to prove. “The person who called demanding ransom could have been male or female. Anyone could have sent the rat or put gnomes in my garden, but this note spells it out. Leave Lane alone. The author of the note is clearly upset because my name is being linked with yours. The pranks started after the original article in the newspaper. This whole scenario smacks of jealousy—romantic jealousy. I’m sure I’m right.”

  The metal ramp at the entrance to Kate’s driveway rattled, indicating a car pulling up outside her house. Kate’s heart flip-flopped, sudden fear spurted through her veins. Forcing back her edginess, she stepped closer to the window and peeked through the lacy cream nets screening the view out to the road. Her breath eased out in a soft sigh of relief.

  “The police have arrived,” she said, turning to face Lane again. “I’m going to tell them my theory.” His roll of eyes prodded her to back the assumption. “Bet you twenty dollars they agree with me.”

  Lane thrust out his hand, relieved at the emergence of her feistiness and slight smile. He hadn’t missed the burst of fear that had crossed her face when she’d heard the car outside. “You’re on.” His gaze lingered on her eyes before slipping to study her lips.

  A thump on the front door broke the spell. Their hands unclasped, falling apart. Lane wished the police had better timing.

  “I’ll get the door.” Kate hurried out, her hips swaying beneath the black jeans.

  Lane’s gaze followed, the need to protect her growing stronger with each passing day. He glanced at the note, worry making him frown. Although he’d made a joke of it, Kate had a point.

  The policeman entered the kitchen a few steps behind Kate. Lane caught the man’s appreciative gaze and scowled.

  “I’m afraid I’ve touched the letter,” Kate said, apology shading her voice.

  “Do you still have the envelope it came in?”

  Kate pointed to the plain white envelope on the counter, her expression holding the same distaste she bore each time she sighted Ratty.

  “No postmark.” The officer produced a plastic bag and a small pair of tweezers from his pocket. Once the envelope was safely enclosed, he looked up. Although young, his brown eyes held keen intelligence. “Probably hand-delivered. Did you notice anyone outside this morning?”

  “A photographer and a couple of reporters,” Kate said.

  Lane glanced out the window, his mouth tightening fractionally. “They’re still there.”

  The policeman nodded. “We’ll check with them on the way out. Are you here on your own?”

  “Yes. My son is away on holiday.”

  “I don’t think you should stay here by yourself. Is there someone who could stay with you?”

  “You can stay with me, Kate.”

  “I don’t know.” Her swift glance in his direction held uncertainty, but Lane knew the officer was right. Kate shouldn’t stay alone.

  “Detective Harwood feels the perpetrator is escalating their pranks. Why offer an easy target?” The policeman’s shrug said it just made sense.

  “Do you think the person who sent the note could be one of Lane’s fans? A female fan?” Kate changed the subject, but Lane had every intention of renewing it once the policeman left. Her gaze shot to him in challenge and her blue eyes sparkled.

  “Possibly,” the officer allowed. “This note does give the impression it’s written by a female.”

  “I thought so,” she said.

  Lane grinned, enjoying the surge of triumph blazing across Kate’s face.

  “I’d better get this to the lab,” the policeman said.

  Kate saw the man out then returned. “The officer agreed with me. I believe you owe me twenty dollars.”

  Lane bit back amusement and pulled his wallet from his right hip pocket. He drew out a crisp twenty-dollar note. “Pack a bag and we’ll head off to my place. I have a couple of meetings tonight but we can get you settled before I leave.”

  “I can’t—”

  “You heard what the policeman said. It’s not safe for you here on your own.”

  Her chin shot up when he interrupted and the glare she winged his way appeared decidedly unfriendly. She plonked down on a barstool and folded her arms across her breasts. “I was about to tell you I have two more appointments this afternoon.”

  Okay. He could work around this argument. He stepped away from his position at the window, moving closer. All he wanted was her safety. “What time is your last appointment?”

  “Five.”

  “Fine. I’ll pick you up at five-thirty.”

  Her face set in an obstinate expression, and the way her shoulders stiffened told him to brace for a protracted disagreement. “But I can’t move in with you. What about the publicity?”

  Who the hell cared? “The apartment complex I live in has high-level security. The reporters won’t know you’re there. You’ll have your own bedroom with a lock on the door.” Lane aimed for a calm tone and tried to field each of her arguments before she voiced them. He could be just as stubborn. “You can trust me—no funny business, I promise.”

  Kate’s head snapped back and she nailed him with a haughty stare. “How do you know you can trust me?”

  Blind lust swept through his body so swiftly, he stepped behind the kitchen counter to cover the evidence and held on to the pitted surface for dear life. In that moment, he wanted her so badly he ached. Clueless as to what to say, he stared at her in indecision while his erection pressed insistently against his fly.

  The silence stretched then the small dimple at the right side of her mouth gave her away. A joke. His breath eased out as he realized he’d been had.

  “All right,” she said. “You win. Come back at six, but if there are reporters out the front, I want you to park a couple of streets away and come to the back door. I am not having pictures published in the paper for Jamie to see.”

  * * * * *

  When Lane arrived to pick her up, three reporters still loitered in front of her house. Kate stepped away from the window with a sigh. At least he’d followed her orders and arrived via the rear entrance.

  “We’ll have to sneak out the back way.”

  “Yes.” Gleeful devilry laced Lane’s smile. To Kate’s bemusement, he seemed to enjoy the idea of a stealthy retreat. What was it about a hint of danger that turned a normal, sensible man into a swaggering daredevil? Personally, she could do without the excitement. She hadn’t lied to Lane when she said she enjoyed her boring, predictable life.

  Lane grabbed her overnight bag, and they left via the back door. Kate locked it and peeked around the corner of a large leafy bush with orange flowers.

  “All clear.” She swallowed the lump of unease in her throat. Nerves. That was all. Nothing to do with the fact she’d be alone with Lane.

  Kate crept from tree to tree, half expecting a reporter to tap her on the shoulder at any moment. But all went according to plan and five minutes later, she slumped against the car while Lane laughed at her.

  With much production, he unlocked the car and opened the door for her. “Here we are, my lady. I expected I’d need to slay reporters for you, but here we are safe and sound, nary a dragon in sight.”

  Kate rolled her eyes and slid into the car. Only when she was inside did she realize this wasn’t his usual car. It was a classic E-type Jag, painted a dark forest green with soft buttery-colored upholstery.

  “You expect to go unnoticed in this?” she demanded when he climbed in the driver’s seat. “Where’s your Falcon?”

  Lane laughed, his profile softened in amusement. “This is my grandfather’s car. He’s not well at the moment, and I promised him I’d take it out for a run. Relax. No one will see us,” he declared, and he accelera
ted smoothly away from the curb. “The reporters expect to see me in my Falcon.”

  Lane lived in an Epsom apartment, only a short drive from Kate’s house in Newmarket. But it might as well have been half a world away. The complex shouted of wealth and Kate was hard-pressed not to stare at the obvious luxury.

  Set within seven acres of native trees and landscaped gardens, the buildings blended perfectly with the lush backdrop, looking as though they had always been there. Walking tracks meandered through mature trees, beckoning exploration. After driving through the security gate, they passed a tennis court. An energetic foursome lobbed tennis balls back and forth in a doubles game under lights. Other tenants watched lazily from the spa and heated swimming pool.

  “What a lovely setting,” Kate said. A tinge of envy raced through her when she viewed the gardens. They were lush and tropical, judicial use of native plants giving the whole complex a uniquely New Zealand atmosphere. Jamie would love it here.

  “Safe as well,” Lane added, almost as if he could read her thoughts. “I was lucky to get this apartment. My agent heard it was for sale when I’d decided to return home from England. She viewed the apartment for me, and I bought it on her recommendation. I’ve never regretted the purchase.”

  Lane left the car parked in a visitor’s parking space right near the front door. They climbed two steps, went through double wooden doors decorated with ornate brass handles and panels of glass into a marble foyer. Kate gaped, trying hard to hide her awe and ignore the comparisons between this luxury and her more modest home. The place looked like a hotel. Her shoes clicked on the marble floor as they stepped over to a lift. The silence reminded her of a hotel too.

  Lane used a swipe card to operate the lift. The doors swished closed and they whisked up to his apartment before Kate could blink. She patted her middle region and wondered if she had time to retrieve her stomach, but as soon as the doors sprang open directly into Lane’s apartment, she forgot her discomfort. Designer décor snagged her attention before Lane led her down a carpeted passage and stopped at the first door on the right.

  “This is your room.” He flicked on the light and stepped aside to allow her to enter.

  A teal-and-cream-colored duvet covered the bed. The color combination repeated in the drapes and scatter cushions. Kate slowly released her breath. Lane had promised they’d have separate rooms but the reality was a relief—and a letdown. Go figure. She surreptitiously checked the door and noted the sturdy lock. Her gaze darted back to Lane when she heard his loud, put-upon sigh.

  “Kate, Kate.” He shook his head in mock sadness.

  “What?” Lane could tease all he wanted, but her bad experience with Steve made her slow to trust. Actions spoke far more loudly than all the words in the dictionary.

  “Contrary to your beliefs, I don’t have to force myself on anyone.” Humor lit his gray eyes.

  The smirk made her cheeks flame. Kate averted her gaze to stare at a small oil painting of a golden retriever. With his public persona and good looks, women probably threw themselves at him all the time. The heat in her cheeks worked down her neck as ego took a tumble. He’d never look at a single mother like her. Kate wondered about the woman in his life. He’d never mentioned a girlfriend. A soft sound jerked her gaze back to him. His grin spread from one side of his face to the other.

  “Big head,” she muttered, a snap in her voice.

  Still smirking, Lane checked his watch. “I’ll have to go. I have training in half an hour then a meeting with my agent and a prospective sponsor later on. I’m afraid you’re on your own for the evening, but there’s loads of food in the kitchen. Help yourself to whatever you want. I’ll be back late so I won’t see you until the morning. What time is your first appointment tomorrow?”

  “Ah, eleven.”

  “Okay. Sleep well.” With that, he backed from the bedroom and shut the door with a firm click, leaving her to survey the neutral paintwork. Kate grimaced at the pique she felt. After all her worrying, he’d left her to her own devices. Lane couldn’t wait to leave. That really put her in place.

  Kate heard Lane moving around the apartment, but cowardly, she didn’t venture from her room until she heard the hum of the departing lift. About half an hour later, she kicked off her shoes to wander through to the kitchen, and after inspecting the fridge contents, prepared a smoked chicken salad. A crusty bread roll plus a glass of Marlborough Riesling completed her meal.

  The time crawled by, the deathly silence contributed to the sense of uneasiness deep inside her. Up on the fourth floor traffic noise didn’t exist. She hated the rootless sensation of being in a strange place but consoled herself with the thought that both Jamie and she were safe.

  Suddenly she longed to talk to her son. The desperate need for reassurance made her reach for the phone.

  “Hi, Danielle. It’s Kate. How’s Jamie?”

  “He’s fine,” Danielle said, her voice rich with assurance. “The boys are taking their punishment in stride.”

  “The gardens have never looked better,” she heard Adam joke in the background.

  “I’ve had a few problems, so I’m staying with Lane at his apartment.”

  “About time,” Danielle murmured.

  Kate grimaced at the phone. “It’s not like that.” She explained about the note and the police suggestion about not staying on her own.

  “That’s terrible,” Danielle said. “We’ll take extra care with Jamie.”

  “I never thought otherwise,” Kate said. “I wanted—”

  “Reassurance.” A smile sounded in her friend’s voice. “Don’t worry. I understand totally and we’ll be extra vigilant—just in case. Here’s Jamie.”

  “Kate? The twins said England beat the All Blacks the year before last. Can you get my rugby annual from my room and read it out for them? Then they’ll believe me!”

  Great, Kate thought. What had happened to “Hello, how are you?” Since Jamie seemed so anti-Lane, she’d intended to evade the truth, but she couldn’t flat-out lie to her son. She chewed on her bottom lip while silently debating how to handle his request. “Jamie, I’m not ringing from home,” she said finally. Her hand twisted around the cord of the phone while she waited for his reply.

  “Where are you?”

  The suspicion in his voice felt like a slap on the face. Kate inhaled deeply, steeling against the flash of pain. “I’m staying at Lane’s apartment,” she blurted.

  The intense silence on the other end plunked her back in childhood and memories of discipline for some transgression. “The police said it was dangerous to stay at our house.” Excellent, now she babbled, tossing excuses just like a teenager who’d broken curfew.

  “Why?”

  “I’ve had threatening notes and Lane offered to let me use his spare room because his apartment has security.”

  “Is he there?”

  Kate’s stomach lurched at Jamie’s flat tone and the underlying resentment. Perhaps it was best she told Jamie the truth right now. If reporters took photos of her with Lane and Jamie saw them, she’d really have trouble explaining. “No, Lane has business meetings tonight.”

  “Can I ring you when I want?”

  “Of course you can.” Kate rattled off the number, repeating it as her son wrote it down. “I’ll check your rugby annual for you tomorrow and ring you with the answer.”

  “All right.”

  Kate sighed inwardly. Better, but still grudging. She sensed it would take a while for Jamie to come around. “I love you, Jamie.”

  “’Night.” The receiver clicked defiantly in her ear.

  Kate hung up, feeling even worse than when she’d picked up the phone. She hated what the publicity was doing to Jamie and her. One hand pressed against her uneasy stomach while she paced the large kitchen. The motion did little to soothe her ruffled emotions. Keeping busy was the only way to stay sane. She ran hot water into the sink to do her dishes.

  After washing her plate and cutlery she was at a lo
ss as to what to do next. At home, a never-ending list of chores waited—bookwork, housework and gardening. The mystery novel she’d brought with her held little appeal.

  “Heck, I’m living in a suspense novel,” she muttered wryly, slapping the book on the kitchen counter. “Why read it too?”

  She wandered aimlessly around Lane’s apartment, picking up a vase and placing it down before moving on to the next item that attracted her attention.

  A neutral cream paint covered the walls in the living area while the carpet was cream with a hint of spicy warmth. Two brown leather two-seaters sat at right angles and created a seating area from which to watch the large-screen television. Too restless to watch TV, she decided to pass. Her bare feet sank into a Persian rug as she ambled across the room, seeking distraction.

  Two sturdy bookshelves overflowed with a diverse collection of titles and indicated Lane’s love of reading. Tucking the snippet of information away, she checked out his music collection. Another large collection, but this time her nose wrinkled. Classics and jazz—give her rock and roll any day.

  When she reached the formal dining room, a framed photograph snared her attention. The photo showed a confident Lane standing between an older couple who must be his parents. Kate swallowed as she trailed her index finger over his face. Younger and leaner, he looked even more like Jamie. Fear and apprehension at the future swamped her for an instant. She swallowed, acknowledging the truth she’d never voiced. When Jamie’s birth certificate arrived, she doubted there would be any surprises but that didn’t mean she understood.

  Sighing, she continued her exploration, curiosity turning her feet in the direction of the bedrooms. Three bedrooms in total, she discovered. She pushed open the last door at the end of the passage and found herself in the master suite.

  A few steps into the room, Kate hesitated then shrugged and stepped boldly forward. Lane’s bedroom appeared tidy but had a lived-in feel and more individuality than any of the other rooms. The lingering fragrance of his cologne and a touch of lemon furniture polish scented the air. Kate’s breath quickened with sudden sensual awareness.