“After that swim, I’ll risk it.”
Liana poured them each a glass. She raised hers. “To swimming outdoors in the winter. Better you than me.”
Mitch laughed at her unexpected toast. “Okay, I guess we’ll go with that. We’ll get you doing that after a year of living in New Zealand. You’ll be as tough as the rest of us.”
Liana shook her head. “I think Kiwis are just born tough.”
As they ate, Liana noticed a new bruise on Mitch’s cheek. He had scratches on his neck, and scabs were forming on his hands.
“That was perfect.” Mitch soaked up the last bit of soup with the bread. “Thank you. Just what I needed. You’ve spoiled Jay and me with the cooking this last month. Do you have a favorite thing to make?”
“No, not really. Cooking is one of my outlets. Remember, my grandparents owned a restaurant. I grew up with people cooking all the time. Even my Da loved to cook. Mum never quite forgave him when his curry beat hers in a family blind-tasting test.”
“Really?”
“Yes. He used to brag that besides playing in the quarterfinals of the FA Cup, that was his favorite victory.”
“Your father sounds like quite the character.”
“He was. He was full of energy. I miss him, but I also still feel his presence, especially when I’m on the sidelines managing the team.”
“I’ve been lucky enough to say I’ve not lost anyone close,” Mitch said. “My grandparents died when I was too young to remember. Everyone I love and admire is still around. I know that’s not going to be the case forever, but I’ve not had to experience what you have.”
It was easy to overlook how careful he was with words because of the casualness of his delivery. “Well, I hope it will be a long time before you do,” she said, softly.
“Me, too.”
She didn’t expect his hand to cover hers nor the current of electricity that went through her body when his thumb stroked the top of her hand. It was supposed to be a touch of comfort, except her body was far from relaxed. She watched the gentle, repetitive action, afraid to look up to see what Mitch could be feeling. His words from not so long ago echoed in her brain: “I don’t have room for anything–or anyone–this year.”
He was already under tremendous scrutiny. He didn’t need one more thing for the press to hound him about.
She pulled her hand away quickly and hoped her smile softened the sudden movement.
“Dessert! I made some banana cake.” Liana walked to the other side of the kitchen and opened the bread box that hid yesterday’s baking effort. She kept her back to Mitch. Breathe, Murphy! Calm down!
“When did you have time to make that?”
“As soon as those bananas have a speck of brown, I bake this. Plus, I wanted to give some to Mark.”
“Yes, Mark.”
Someone else may have missed the strained tone. Not her, now sensitive to his moods. She placed a plate with cake in front of him and met his gaze. “You can ask me.”
“Ask you what?”
“Whatever the question is behind your ‘yes, Mark’ statement. We will always be honest with each other, agreed? It’s what I want in all my relationships, especially with my friends. Life’s too complicated not to be able to talk honestly with friends.”
“Agreed,” Mitch said. He took a deep breath. “Are you and Mark Johnson seeing each other?”
“No.”
“Does he want something more than just being friends?”
“No.”
She was surprised to see he remained uncertain. She frowned, then made a decision. “I say this to you in confidence. He’s been in love with a wonderful woman for the past year. But she wants to stay in the background as long as possible. So, sometimes, being Mark Johnson’s date feeds a different type of rumor.”
Mitch couldn’t mask his surprise. He started to say something but stopped himself.
“No, ask me,” Liana said, urging him on. “If I can answer your question, I will. If I can’t for whatever reason, I’ll say so.”
Mitch studied the grains of the countertop. “It’s not a question but an observation. He loves you.”
Liana smiled. “Yes. And I love him. There’s a lot of love between us. I’ve known him since primary school. We grew up together. I know his girlfriend, his ‘secret love,’ so to speak. There are very few secrets between us. It’s beyond friendship. He is as close as family to me.”
“Were you two lovers?”
Was he testing her? Was he testing whatever it was they had or could have? “No one has ever asked me that before,” she said.
“Maybe it never meant enough for anyone to ask before.”
He had his interview-face but she caught the slight tick in his jaw as he feigned nonchalance. Liana weighed Mitch’s response. She had a choice: answer the question or ask one. She wanted to ask a question, but he wanted an answer.
“No,” she said. Does he believe her? Would it matter if he doesn’t? She met his gaze. “I don’t sleep with every man I love, and I do love him.”
Mitch blinked, and she saw him come out from behind the shield all public figures put up. He folded his arms before speaking again. “Well, he’s interested in going kayaking with me. He said I could get his number from you.”
“Of course,” she replied, curious at this piece of information. Mark usually preferred to keep his kayaking time to himself. He was here to work, and that usually meant no downtime.
Over cake, they steered the conversation to more neutral topics, eventually settling on the status of their respective teams. She liked how his mind worked as captain; it took a particular person to be able to be the conduit between manager and players. He had the best interests of the team at heart, but it was also his job to keep the players motivated and focused. Liana could see that the pressure of the fast-approaching World Championship was starting to take on a different weight.
Mitch answered her questions seriously. No more jokes about training. They were well-thought-through responses, statements that reflected hours of analysis and discussion. While never entirely out of the limelight, Mitch was starting to evolve into the primary spokesperson for the National Team. In victory, it would be a platform of adulation. In defeat, it would be a stage of culpability that few in the world would ever experience.
His questions about her team’s progress were a distraction from all of that. But he also seemed genuinely interested. He had learned the names of the twenty-five men she had brought to Southeast Asia, a set of facts some of the local reporters who had interviewed her couldn’t remember without a cheat sheet.
“I need to get to bed. You look like you could use a good night’s sleep as well,” Liana said. She wished she could brush away the deep lines of fatigue on his face.
“I should. I don’t sleep well in hotels, and that isn’t going to be great when we move into one for the Championship.”
“Will you or Jay stay here during your off-days?”
“Not too much. You know how it is: a lot goes on behind the scenes, and I need to stay close to management. I’ll come by for a change of scenery, or even a change of clothes, if you don’t mind.”
“It’s your home, Mitch. I know what these campaigns are like. Are you sure you’ll want me around?”
“It’s all right. And Jay already said not to let you go. He wants another lesson in sushi-making.”
Liana laughed.
Mitch grinned. “You don’t have a deadline to leave the Meriton. Plus, I like talking to you. You bring a different perspective on things. You’re also not caught up in my results.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. I’m still English. God Save the Queen and all that.”
“Right.”
“Well, I’m knackered. Too long a night. I’m getting too old for these events.”
“You looked like you belonged at those events.”
“Looking like and feeling like I belong are two different things, Mitch,” Liana said quietly.
/> * * *
Mitch couldn’t sleep that night, his mind replaying the evening. It had started off so badly, seeing Liana with another man, a man who had her permission to touch her. Mark wasn’t Blake. He was Liana’s equal in wealth and influence.
But she said there was nothing between them.
Mitch gave up. He got out of bed and walked quietly to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. He paused in front of Liana’s room, half wanting to knock on her door. He moved past it instead. She’d said she was tired.
He had never experienced jealousy like that. Yes, it was jealousy. He could admit it. The practical side of him wanted to negate the feeling; she wasn’t his to be jealous for. It didn’t stop those feelings from surfacing though.
Her words played heavily in his mind all night. He had a feeling that Liana wouldn’t usually explain her relationships with other people. He hadn’t liked her answer, but he realized what it meant that she was willing to give him one.
She was aware of their chemistry. He smiled when he remembered her nervousness at their touch. It was good to know she was as affected he was. His mind was wandering again.
Rugby first, Molloy. Remember Cardiff. Never again.
Four years later and he could still hear the sound of the team’s cleats echoing as they walked into the sheds after the final whistle. No one spoke. The number one team in the world, the expected champions, and they fell at the semifinals. They had failed. Shortly after that, he had to face the nation—the world—to explain why.
The weight of that loss was still with him.
But it was her smile he saw now. She confused him and was testing the strict discipline he had honed as a professional athlete. If she were anyone else—especially given their attraction to each other—Mitch might have made a move already. But the timing was all wrong.
Tonight, at the movie premiere, she was back to being the woman on the covers of magazines. Deep down, he was still the son of a farmer who was more at home in shorts and a T-shirt then he’d ever be in a tuxedo. Liana, on the other hand, was a global celebrity, who, according to Felicity, was scheduled to speak at the U.N. next year. Outside of rugby, no one really knew who Mitch Molloy was.
He hated to admit it, but he still didn’t know how to separate the fancy world he associated Liana with from the woman he was very interested in getting to know. Just when she seemed normal, she’d do something extraordinary like hang out with one of the sexiest men in the world. Who did that?
* * *
Two weeks later, back on the South Island, Mitch watched a very fit Mark Johnson exit his truck.
Before that moment, Mitch had always thought that Connor was the prime example of modern masculinity, a blend of raw strength with stylish sophistication. It was a mantle that Mitch, personally, had never aspired to, but he recognized the potency of it. He sent a silent apology to his friend as he reluctantly passed that title to an actor he didn’t like. Mark had “it”—that suave, masculine factor that oozed sex appeal even when dressed casually in a wetsuit and a spray jacket.
Mitch glanced at his watch: pommy bastard was on time. He had pegged Mark as the type who’d expect the world to wait for him. Mitch chided himself for falling for a stereotype. He was usually more open-minded when meeting someone new. Usually. Mark was Liana’s friend, he reminded himself. Be nice, Molloy. He forced a smile at the approaching figure.
They had agreed to meet where their kayak trip would end, a small alcove a few miles south of where the Waimakariri River opened into the sea. Dawn was barely breaking when they left Mark’s truck there. Mark had brought a thermos of hot chocolate, offering a cup to Mitch before they drove in Mitch’s truck to their launching point on the Waimak. As Mitch drove, he gave Mark a brief rundown of the course, including what to expect from currents and where trouble spots might be found. From Mark’s messages to him, Mitch gauged that Mark was a fairly experienced kayaker and decided to start their journey on one of the more challenging sections of the river.
As they drove, Mark asked questions about Mitch’s kayaking experience and about Christchurch in general. They were indulging in safe and impersonal topics, but Mitch had a feeling he was somehow being evaluated.
Mark hadn’t exaggerated his prowess in the kayak. If anything, he’d underemphasized his capabilities, handling the different lines of the river confidently. Mark deferred to Mitch’s local knowledge, never trying to overtake Mitch, trusting him. They fell into a comfortable partnership on the water, and despite his initial reservations about how the day would turn out, Mitch found himself enjoying the experience.
Sometime later, they emerged from the mouth of the river onto the ocean. It was a calm morning, and they let the current push them parallel to the coast. Mitch looked over at Mark. The bloody pom still looked like a movie star. Mark caught Mitch’s glance and smiled. It was a carefree smile, a genuine smile. They paddled toward the alcove, and, once beached, Mark brought some food from the chilly bin he had in the truck.
“You packed one?”
Mark shook his head. “No. The hotel did. I’m not sure what’s in it, but I’m famished. That was quite a run—probably one of the best ones I’ve been on in quite a while.”
The hotel did a good job, mused Mitch. Roasted chicken in soft rolls, fresh fruit, and another thermos, but with coffee. Good coffee. And linen napkins.
“So—Liana?” Mark asked.
Mitch choked on his sandwich.
“It’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” Mark took a bite out of his sandwich then looked at Mitch expectantly.
“Is it?”
“She likes you.”
“She told you that, did she?” Mitch pretended indifference. But his heart was pounding. The answer mattered.
“No. But I can tell. It’s the way she talks about you.”
“We’re friends. I like to think we’ve become good friends.”
Mark drank his coffee as he stood up. He stretched and looked out to the ocean. “It’s beautiful here.” He turned to look back at the still-seated Mitch. “Listen. I’ll keep it simple. She’s family to me. Don’t hurt her.”
He said it without anger or pretense. The message was clear enough. But the statement stayed with Mitch the rest of the day, long after the two men had parted ways. Why did Mark think he would or could hurt her?
CHAPTER NINE
The weeks leading up to the Rugby World Championship flew by. Mitch and the rest of the team were featured daily in all forms of media. Endless interviews and public appearances were on the agenda. Liana studied the public Mitch; he came across approachable, knowledgeable, and humble. He spoke confidently of his team and gave due respect to their opponents.
Liana saw less of the private Mitch, their only contact often on the balcony, late at night, and usually in silent companionship. Liana told Jay not to bother asking for a lift anymore. “Mitch’s going to be staying back more often. Just show up at my office. If I’m running late, my head of IT has a lot of video games in his office.”
The morning the National Team was to move into its hotel for the Championship, Liana was surprised to see Mitch up so early. He was standing on the balcony when she returned from her morning run, a mug in one hand, the other in the pocket of his trousers. Wearing a crisp, white shirt that would later be accompanied by the team blazer, he was lost in thought, but he must have sensed her presence. He turned, smiled, and indicated he was coming in.
“Good morning,” he said as he stepped inside.
“Good morning. You’re up early. Bet you’re excited.”
“Yes, but I’m really just ready to get it started. We’ve been waiting a long time for this.”
Liana watched Mitch head to the kitchen to turn the electric kettle on. It dawned on her how automatic it was for her to let him do that, to have him make tea for her.
He didn’t seem to think twice about his actions either. “I just want to say—you know—thanks. We... well... I have really enjoyed you staying here. You k
ept things a little less serious in the condo.”
“Thanks, Mitch. I’ve really enjoyed my time here as well. You and Jay have been great.”
“We’ll both stop by at times throughout the next few weeks. And definitely after the last match in the pool rounds. We’ll let you know ahead, so you’re not surprised by the sight of two tired, battered blokes on the sofa.”
“I’ll be prepared with the first-aid kit.”
“And don’t completely move out until we say goodbye properly. Jay would be really upset.”
“And we can’t have Jay really upset, can we?” Liana teased.
“No, we can’t.”
“I’ll be in the stands with Cat for your opening match. She said the ticket was supposed to go to Connor's mum?”
Mitch chose his words carefully. “No surprise there. Con’s all right. He’ll be glad you could use it.”
“Well, good luck... Captain,” she said, with a grin and held out her hand.
For a brief second, she thought he might not take it. When he did, the shock of their contact was startling; her heart accelerated in response. They hadn’t touched since the night of the premiere. She pulled gently, aware of the goosebumps that had erupted up and down her arms. But he tightened his grip slightly, her hand completely covered by his. She felt his strength and warmth. Looking up, she was caught in the intensity of his stare.
Without breaking eye contact, he slowly raised her hand to his face. As soon as her skin touched his lips, Mitch’s eyes closed.
His lips were soft and warm, so unexpected from a man who exuded hardness. She was paralyzed by the currents of desire that went through her. Her gaze was drawn to his slightly parted lips, now just inches above her skin. They stayed on the same spot for what must have been—in reality—only a few seconds.
Eyes still shut, he raised her hand to the side of his face, gently pressing her palm to his cheek. She remained stunned by the feel of his skin. Then as suddenly as it all started, he let go of her hand. He walked past, his face turned away.
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