International Player(49)

Online dating would be a good first defense, but I needed a double layer of protection from Noah. I also needed walls—more rules if I was going to continue seeing him. And although the best defense would be to put a stop to things between us, I wasn’t ready. Yet.





Twenty-Seven





Noah


I pressed my palms flat on the brickwork and tried to steady my breathing before I pressed the buzzer for Truly’s flat.

She’d left Rob and Abigail’s with a small wave in my direction, and before I’d had a chance, Lev had offered to show her out. I’d nearly busted the beer bottle I was holding as I’d listened to her giggle as she chatted with Lev at the door. He’d come back with a smug, satisfied look on his face. I’d given it twenty minutes before I’d made my excuses and left.

I had to see her. I wanted to know what was wrong—and I wanted her to tell me she wasn’t going to go to dinner with Lev or anyone else.

I pressed the buzzer again and this time the answer was immediate. “Noah? What are you doing here?”

“Can I come up?”

She released the door. What was I going to say to her? I could hardly charge in and demand she not have dinner with anyone I didn’t approve of.

“Hey,” she said, waiting in her doorway as I stepped out of the lift. She had her hair piled on top of her head and her yoga pants on—the gray ones that made her arse look particularly great.

“Hey,” I said, raking my hand through my hair.

“I saw you like half an hour ago.” She frowned as I stalked toward her.

“I know. But I couldn’t do this to you then.” I snaked my arms around her.

She pushed against my biceps as if she were trying to hold me back. “Noah. What are you doing here?”

I released her a little, and she stumbled back, then turned and headed inside.

“What happened at brunch? You just ran off and things have been off and today—”

“Nothing. Would you like to sit down?”

“I want you to tell me why things have been weird between us.” I wasn’t going to accuse her of being jealous, I’d sound like a dickhead, but if she was, I wanted to reassure her.

I followed her through to the living room where her laptop lay open on the table, the screensaver on. She was always working. “You deserve the night off,” I said, nodding at the computer.

She flipped down the lid and we both sat on her couch.

“I’ve not seen Lev in a while,” I said.

She didn’t respond.

“I guess you see him a lot,” I continued.

She shrugged. “Here and there. I’m not sure he and Rob are that close.”

“He has a thing for you,” I said, wanting to see her reaction.

She tilted her head sideways as if I were being ridiculous. “He has a thing for women.”

It was clearly more than that. I imagined Lev wasn’t short of female company, but I could tell by the attention he paid her that he was definitely into Truly.

“You’ve never been tempted? Or succumbed?”

“Succumbed? He’s not ice cream.”

Was she being deliberately evasive? She was usually so honest about everything.

She went to speak, then stopped. My pulse throbbed in my neck. Did she have something to confess? “Go on,” I said. “You were about to tell me something.”

She shook her head. “I was going to ask a question.”

“More deflection.”

“Are you jealous?” she asked, her eyes sweeping over my face as if looking for clues.

“I don’t get jealous. Just interested, I guess. Didn’t think he was your type.”

She raised her eyebrows and turned so she wasn’t facing me on the sofa. “My type? What does that mean?”

Her voice sounded a little clipped. I pulled her closer and despite her resistance, I slid her toward me so her thighs brushed mine. “It wasn’t an insult. He just seems a little . . . smooth. All about money. You know?”

She turned to me, raising an eyebrow. “This coming from the multimillionaire player who ran into two ex-girlfriends at brunch.”

So, this was about brunch. Well, I wasn’t about to let it drop. “So running in to Ginny did bother you.”

“It did not. Why would it? We’re just casual. And no, I’ve never succumbed to Lev.”

I mentally high-fived myself. I hated the idea of him being around her so much, of having some sort of claim to her. “And you’re not going to dinner with him, are you?”

“Our arrangement . . .” She paused. “When I wrote out the rules, there was nothing that said anything about going to dinner with people. You’re free to have lunch with—”

I cupped her face and rested my forehead against hers. “I don’t want to have lunch with anyone.”

I wanted her to return the sentiment but she just stayed silent. “You’re here. Let’s just . . .”

What? I thought to myself.

Talk? There was no one else I wanted to speak to.

Enjoy each other? There was no one else I’d have more fun with.

Fuck all night into the early morning? There was no one better. No one I wanted to take to bed more.