International Player(5)

I wanted to see him again. I wanted my friend back. And I wanted to know if he remembered that night before he’d left for New York. That night when we’d shared a bottle of wine, listened to music, and we’d almost crossed that line that had been drawn in the sand between us.

Had he wanted me then?

Had he known how much I’d wanted him?





Three





Truly


I bit down on the side of my thumbnail as I paced in front of the tidy, terraced Victorian villas. A ponytail looked casual enough, right? And everyone would be wearing jeans. But the blush and the eyeliner? On a Sunday? Abigail was bound to notice.

I should never have come.

The slate-gray front door of my sister’s house swung open and I froze. “Truly?” my brother-in-law bellowed. “I thought that was you. What are you doing out there?”

“Sorry, just finishing up a call.” I wasn’t even holding my mobile, and anyway, who would I be calling on a Sunday? I really needed to work on my cover stories.

I lifted up on tiptoes and kissed Rob on the cheek. “Did you do roast potatoes?”

“I wouldn’t dare do anything else.” He scooped up the bottle of white wine in my hand. “Going for a change?” he asked, looking at the label. “You usually bring red.”

“I just had it in my fridge.”

“Along with some moldy cheese?”

And hummus, but I didn’t say that. Instead I whacked his stomach with the back of my hand for daring to be right. A stocked fridge wasn’t a priority. I usually ordered something in the office or bought two lunches and kept one in the communal fridge for later.

“Is that you, Truly?” my sister called from the kitchen.

I slipped past Rob and took a deep breath as I headed to the back of the house. The blush and eyeliner were just armor. Protection from Noah and his charms. I so desperately wanted to see him again and for him to have no effect on me. I didn’t want to be the girl pining after some guy who didn’t know she was alive or at least didn’t see her as dating potential. It was sad and pathetic and that wasn’t who I was. I pulled my shoulders back and turned left, expecting to see Noah for the first time in four years. But the only person in the large, airy room was my sister, who was at the hob, peering into a saucepan.

She spun around as Rob came in after me, looking guilty.

“Did you touch it?” he asked. Rob only agreed to cook on the basis Abigail left him to it and didn’t interfere.

“I swear I didn’t. I just looked. Because—”

“Don’t pretend to be helping, Abigail. Pour the wine.” He handed her the bottle he’d just taken from me.

“You’re a cruel man, Robert Franklin, making a pregnant lady pour wine she can’t drink.”

I glanced around, noting that Noah was nowhere to be seen.

“You brought white?” Abigail asked as she kissed me on the cheek.

I shrugged, pushing my hands into my pockets as she took in my made-up face. She noticed, but at least she didn’t say anything. Just like she didn’t say anything about Noah’s absence. Maybe I was off the hook. Maybe he’d had other plans. No doubt he had plenty of friends to catch up with, women to hang out with, things to do. That was who Noah was. He was busy. Always working toward one goal or another. Always on the go.

The footsteps thundering down the stairs told me I hadn’t gotten off as lightly as I had hoped.

Abigail looked up at the ceiling. “I swear he’s going to bring this house down.”

Her voice faded out and all I could focus on was my breathing. It was as if my body had decided that it wasn’t involuntary anymore, and if I wasn’t careful, my lungs would empty and never refill.

I moved toward the glass doors to pull them open and suck in some more air.

“Hey, guys, sorry. I had to take that call.” Noah’s deep voice tumbled out from behind me, setting off goosebumps across my skin.

Slowly, I turned and took him in. All six foot four of him filled the doorway. I’d forgotten just how perfect he was in the flesh. My memory of him didn’t paint him as vividly as he was in real life. It was as if the color had been turned up on him compared to the rest of the population. The high, chiseled cheekbones, the Nordic nose that looked like he just stepped off a long ship, and the dirty blond hair that was a little longer than he wore it all those years ago—it was all too perfect. His long, long legs were clad in denim and his broad chest was covered in what looked like gray cashmere. Jesus, no wonder this man had gotten over the desire to sleep with me and friend zoned me so quickly. He looked like he’d been designed for my sister—beautiful, graceful, and powerful.

He followed Abigail’s glance toward me and as our eyes locked, I gave him a wave with both hands the way a five-year-old might.

“Truly,” he said, his low voice echoing through my body.

His eyes lit up in the way they always did as a smile spread across his face. But his warm greeting wasn’t reserved just for me. Or even people he liked. He simply had a way about him that made the people around him feel special. He strode over to me.

“So good to see you. It’s been ages.”

My body heated the closer he got, and as he bent, I inhaled that blend of citrus and warm skin I remembered. The scruff of his day-old beard caught my cheek as he pressed his face to mine. My heart began to pound, and I willed him to move away so he wouldn’t feel it. “You look really well,” he said, the pitch of his voice loud rather than intimate. He pressed his palms to my shoulders and held me at arm’s length, then he glanced over at Rob and Abigail as if he wanted them to agree.