Winning Ace: A Winning Ace Novel (Book 1)

by Tracie Delaney

  Tearing her mouth from his, she gulped in as much air as she could handle. Her lungs burned, and she turned her head to the side as he made another move to kiss her. His thumbs brushed her nipples, his lips fastening onto her neck, and as a rush of wetness pooled between her legs, Tally knew she had approximately five seconds to call a halt to this. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be able to resist him.

  “Please stop,” she whispered.

  He paused. His lips were still touching her neck, although they’d stopped moving, and his breath was hot against her skin. He raised his head and cupped her face, his thumbs skimming across her burning cheeks. “I don’t want to stop.”

  God, she didn’t want him to either. And he had to know it. Her heaving chest, short breaths, and damp skin would tell him that she was turned on, more turned on than she’d been in her whole life. Fighting the devil on her shoulder and the desire in her heart was exhausting.

  When her lips parted, Cash lowered his head to capture her mouth once more, but if she let him touch her again, she was done for. Another notch on a bedpost that already had a serious case of hives.

  “No!” She pushed the flat of her hand against his hard chest. He immediately stepped back. His eyes narrowed, and the soft, full lips that had been fixed to hers moments before were now pressed into a thin white slash.

  He strode out of the kitchen, leaving her alone. Mortified, she refastened her bra and tucked in her shirt. When she’d recovered enough to follow him into the hallway, he was standing by a wide-open front door.

  “Isaac will take you back to work.”

  “What––”

  “Just go, Natalia. And be thankful I’m not going to put in a formal complaint about how you got that story.”

  Her throat tightened, and choking back a sob, she ran outside.

  SEVEN

  Cash closed the door behind Natalia and slid down the wall. He pulled his knees into his chest and covered his face with his hands. He’d come so close to screwing her right there against the kitchen cabinets. He’d almost lost control. If she hadn’t pushed him away, he’d be buried inside her right now, and the last thing he needed was to screw a journalist. Yet when she’d said no… Christ, he’d been so far gone that he’d wanted her to hurt like he was hurting. By the look on her face as she left, he’d succeeded.

  He staggered to his feet and swiped a whiskey bottle from the living room, pulling a face when he read the label. Rupe’s taste clearly hadn’t improved, but he couldn’t complain too much. After all, Rupe gave him free rein to crash here whenever he couldn’t stomach hotels anymore or when he was trying to get some peace. And because the lucky bastard was currently sailing round the Caribbean, there had been no problem bringing Natalia to the house.

  As thoughts of her flashed through his mind, he unscrewed the bottle and took a long draw. The fiery liquid burned like shit, and he winced, but it didn’t stop him drinking more. What the hell was wrong with him? First Suze and now Natalia. Even the shoddy way he’d treated Suze had been because of Natalia.

  He didn’t understand his reaction to her. He’d been with a lot of women—a whole fucking lot. And he’d always been in control, the person who said when, where, and how and when his latest fling had run its course, he’d move onto the next without a backward glance. And yet, there he was, mooning over a girl he barely knew who wasn’t even his type. Even worse, she was a journalist who’d written an article that might just make other journalists think about digging into his past. Jesus Christ.

  He drank down another slug of whiskey and squinted at the bottle. He was sure it had been close to full, yet now it was about an inch below the bottom of the label. Great. He was pissed again. If he didn’t act fast, he’d spiral, and that wouldn’t do so close to Brisbane. He needed someone to pull him back from the brink, and unfortunately, there was only one miserable bastard capable of that.

  * * *

  “Goddamn it, Cash.”

  Cash clamped his hands over his ears to drown Brad out. It didn’t work. Brad gripped Cash’s wrists and pulled his arms apart.

  “It’s a little over a week before Brisbane. What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

  “Don’t you mean who the fuck do I think I’m doing?” His words were slurred, and he frowned in an attempt to force himself to concentrate. “Wait a minute—that’s not right. I mean, who the fuck am I not doing.”

  He made a swipe for the whiskey bottle, but Brad beat him to it and dumped what was left down the sink. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but you’re a cock. I know that much.”

  Cash began to laugh, and once he started, he couldn’t stop. Great belly laughs racked his body, and he lurched to his feet but lost his balance, ending up flat on his arse. He squinted up, and one look at Brad’s disapproving mug made Cash laugh even harder until tears were streaming down his face.

  “Right, that’s it.” Brad hauled Cash to his feet and dragged him into the bathroom. He turned on the shower and then shoved Cash, fully clothed, under the freezing spray.

  “What the fuck?” Cash tried to get out, but a huge palm slammed hard into his chest. He fell backwards, hitting his head on the tiled wall. “Ow.” He rubbed his head, already feeling the beginnings of a bump.

  Deciding he was too pissed to fight Brad, he used the wall to support himself and gritted his teeth against the cold. Brad stood on the outside of the shower, a deep scowl on his face as he made Cash stay under the freezing spray for five long minutes.

  Brad finally turned off the shower and thrust a towel at Cash. “Get changed. I’ll be downstairs. And brush your fucking teeth. You smell like a brewery.”

  Brad slammed the bathroom door, leaving him soaking wet, teeth chattering. Cash stripped off his sopping clothes, dried himself, and went in search of some spare gear in Rupe’s bedroom. He tugged on a pair of jeans, but because Rupe was a size bigger than him, they kept falling down. Digging around in the drawers, he found a brown leather belt. After feeding it through the loops on the jeans, he fixed it on the last notch, which at least meant the jeans stayed in place. The sweatshirt he’d put on looked ridiculous, but he was warm and dry and certainly more alert than fifteen minutes earlier. He trudged downstairs, in no hurry to face Brad’s wrath even though Cash only had himself to blame. After all, he’d asked Brad to come.

  The strong smell of coffee wafted up the stairs, and he followed the scent into the kitchen. Brad glared at him and thrust a mug of the black stuff into his hands. Cash took a taste and screwed his face up.

  “Jesus, could you have made it any stronger?”

  “Well, let’s see. The strength of the coffee is in direct correlation to your stupidity. So ask yourself the question: how fucking dumb are you?”

  Cash set the mug on the counter and held his hands up. “Okay, okay. I get it. You’re my coach, not my fucking father.”

  “Really? Because from where I’m standing, you don’t get anything. Do you want to screw up your career?”

  “Now who’s the dumbass?” Cash muttered, forcing another mouthful of coffee down his throat.

  “I’ll take that as a no. What’s going on, Cash? When I saw you at the benefit two days ago, you were in top form. And where the hell is Kinga when I need her to keep you in check?”

  Cash’s hands prickled, and he clenched and unclenched them. “As far away from me as possible if she knows what’s good for her.”

  Brad rubbed his chin, a deep frown drawing his brows low. And then he blinked slowly. “Not again?”

  “Yep. Playing her usual games.”

  “For fuck’s sake. So that’s what this nonsense is about?”

  Cash shook his head. “No. She pissed me off, but Kinga I can handle. I’ve been doing it for years, remember.”

  “So what gives with the bender?”

  Cash pulled a chair up to the breakfast bar and, keeping it brief, filled Brad in on recent events with Natalia. Brad, along with Rupe, was one of the very few people Cash trusted. Hi
s coach was also a good barometer of behaviour, and the low whistle he let out when Cash caught him up spoke volumes.

  “You like this girl?”

  “I don’t know whether I like her or despise her. When I found out she’d lied about being a journalist, I was fuming. I brought her here because I wanted to demand an explanation, but I didn’t plan on sticking my tongue down her throat and getting my hands on what I have to admit were fucking magnificent tits. I don’t get it, Brad.”

  Brad wiggled his eyebrows and smirked. “Cash, old buddy, you’ve always used sex to get your own way. Nothing new there. But this time, the lady said no.”

  Cash scowled. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Okay, then tell me, how did you react with the last woman who turned down the great stud, Cash Gallagher?”

  Cash’s frown deepened, and then he closed his eyes briefly as he realised what Brad was getting at. “I don’t know.”

  “And why don’t you know?”

  Cash smiled wryly. “Because it’s never happened to me before.”

  “Bingo.” Brad clapped him on the shoulder. “Welcome to the life of a normal guy. Shit, isn’t it?”

  Cash drained the last of the coffee and hoisted up the too-big jeans. “Remind me to tell Rupe to lose some fucking weight when he gets home. I need to dry my clothes.”

  “And then what?”

  “I’m going to find Natalia and apologise for my unacceptable behaviour before she writes a sodding follow-up article. And then I’m going home to get my head straight for Brisbane.”

  EIGHT

  Cash’s driver dropped Tally at home. After the altercation with Cash, there was no way she could go back to work. Relieved to escape the driver’s obvious pity, she mumbled a quick “thanks” and ran inside her flat.

  She penned a text to Pete telling him she was feeling unwell, which actually wasn’t a lie. She was sick to her stomach thinking about the antipathy in Cash’s face when he’d virtually thrown her out.

  A wave of humiliation washed over her at how she’d allowed him to touch her so intimately. Not just allowed, but enjoyed, relished, and craved more. It had taken her ex, Evan, six weeks of hard graft before she’d let him get that far, and at the time, they’d been in an actual relationship.

  She tentatively touched her lips, her fingers brushing a slight graze where Cash had nipped her. Butterflies swarmed her insides. She’d never been kissed like that in her entire life, yet when she told him to stop, he’d simply flicked a switch and changed from an eager lover to a cold-hearted opponent. At least he wasn’t going to make a formal complaint. She should be thankful for that.

  The afternoon dragged. She tried reading a book, but the words swam into one another on the page. She thought about baking a chocolate cake, one of her favourites, but only got as far as setting all the ingredients on the countertop before putting them away again, and by the time Em got home from work, Tally was climbing the walls.

  She told Em what had happened, leaving out the part where Cash had touched her boobs. She didn’t feel ready to share that yet, not even with her best friend. Too embarrassing. Em’s expression switched between outraged and excited, but when Tally got to the part where Cash told her to go, Em’s eyes grew wide and her pupils dilated to a mere pinprick.

  “The bastard. Come here, babes.” Em held out her arms, and Tally folded herself inside. “I guess meeting your idols never quite turns out the way you would hope.”

  Tally’s bottom lip trembled. Em was right, but Tally didn’t want to hear it. She wanted comforting words that gave hope, even though her rational, conscious mind knew it was pointless.

  “Right,” Em said, jumping up. “Get your glad rags on. We’re hitting the town.”

  Tally shook her head. “I’m not in the mood, and I’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”

  “I don’t care. It’s Christmas-Eve-Eve-Eve or something like that. Party season, baby. We’re going. I’ll call Greg and get us on the guest list at KoLo. There have to be some benefits to my brother being head bouncer at the best club in town.”

  Tally groaned. Em in this mood was like a juggernaut: unstoppable.

  “Fine,” she said, ignoring Em’s triumphant look. “But don’t expect me to enjoy myself. And if you try to set me up with any weirdos looking for a Christmas cop-off, I’ll kill you.”

  “Done.”

  “And you can square it with Pete when I turn up at work tomorrow with a hangover.”

  “Whatever.” Em pressed a hand to the small of Tally’s back and manoeuvred her into the bedroom. “Okay, girl, let’s get glammed up.”

  * * *

  Em muscled her way through the crowds lining up to get into KoLo. Now that they were at the club, Tally’s earlier self-pity receded, helped along by the fact Em had gone all out for the second time in three days, though she’d made Tally look much more club-funk than classy-chic. Tally was ready to let loose and enjoy herself.

  Ignoring the envious looks and grumbling comments of the long line of clubbers waiting to get inside, they skipped to the front of the queue. After the doorman checked to make sure their names were on the list, they were allowed inside. Tally turned her coat in at the cloakroom, and they headed for the bar. After they downed a couple of Jägerbombs, Em took her hand and led her onto the dance floor. The club was packed, and the resident DJ pounded out techno tunes as they mingled into the crowd.

  Tally closed her eyes and let the beat of the music take over. As she danced, her upset at what had happened with Cash began to recede. With the alcohol warming her insides, she decided she was fed up with being Miss Sensible. She wanted to let her hair down and be crazy and reckless.

  When a couple of guys joined them on the dance floor, she put her promise into action. She wrapped her arms around the neck of one of them.

  “Hi,” she yelled in his ear. “I’m Tally.”

  “Jack,” he shouted back. At least, that was what she thought he’d said, although at that moment, she didn’t particularly care what his name was. All she wanted was someone who could move and didn’t repulse her physically, and Jack delivered on both counts.

  “That’s Neil,” he said, pointing at his friend, who was dancing with Em. Tally nodded and smiled at Jack’s friend, giggling when Em tipped her head at Neil and theatrically wiped her brow as she mouthed, “Phew.”

  At one in the morning, Tally signalled to Em she’d had enough. Em nodded in agreement.

  “Want to share a cab home?” she asked Jack.

  “Good idea,” he said. “It’s murder trying to get a taxi at this time in the morning.”

  The two couples staggered onto the street and headed for the taxi rank. Tally shivered, despite her thick coat, and Jack put his arms around her.

  “Come here, and get warm,” he said.

  She snuggled into his side, giving a hard stare in response to Em’s mischievous grin. Jack was good company and just the pick-me-up she needed after Cash.

  “Finally,” Jack said as they reached the front of the queue. The four of them climbed inside, and Tally gave the taxi driver their address.

  When the cab pulled up outside Tally’s flat, she nudged Em, who was kissing Neil. Em wafted her hand in the air dismissively, and Tally chuckled. She moved in to give Jack a peck on the cheek, but at the last moment, he turned his head, and she caught the corner of his mouth instead. Jack must have taken encouragement from the fact that she didn’t pull away, because his hand cupped the back of her neck, and he deepened the kiss. Hazy from alcohol and pounding club beats, Tally moved into his body. It briefly crossed her mind that she shouldn’t be kissing two men on the same day, but Jack’s mouth was warm and comforting and very different to the intensity of Cash’s kisses.

  When the cab driver cleared his throat, they broke apart. Em and Neil were already outside, lips locked once more.

  “Can you hang on a minute, mate?” Jack said to the taxi driver as he helped Tally out of the cab. He tucked his hands inside her coat,
wrapping them around her waist. He moved in to kiss her once more, but when his kisses grew in intensity, she pressed a hand to his chest and wrenched her head to one side.

  “Slow down,” she said.

  “Aw, come on, baby,” Jack said, trying once more to capture her mouth. “I want my reward.”

  Tally suddenly found herself free as Jack was hauled backwards. Shocked, she stared open-mouthed at Cash as he stepped between her and Jack.

  “Get the fuck out of here before I give you my brand of fucking reward.”

  NINE

  Cash had waited outside Natalia’s flat, his impatience rising with each passing hour she didn’t come home. She hadn’t been very difficult to track down, but he’d been sitting in his car for hours with no sign of her. He considered the possibility that she had gone away for the holidays, but a light shone in the front room, so he hedged his bets and decided she’d simply gone out for the evening.

  Antsy, he kept getting out of the car and pacing the street. He had an extremely high metabolic rate, which made sitting still quite difficult. His energy levels were crazy most of the time, and he would often go for a run or to the gym at weird times of the day and night to get rid of the excess, but he couldn’t do that at the moment because he had to wait in this fucking street for fucking Natalia.

  God, he wished he was fucking Natalia.

  He glanced at his watch. Almost one thirty. Perhaps she was staying out after all. He’d have to make his apologies over the phone.

  He tapped Isaac on the shoulder. “Ten more minutes, and then let’s go.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Cash leaned back against the headrest and closed his eyes.