Winning Ace: A Winning Ace Novel (Book 1)

by Tracie Delaney

  “Sir, a cab has just parked up in front of us.”

  Cash sat forwards and peered through the windshield. There was movement inside the cab, but he couldn’t make out if any of the occupants were Natalia. A girl and a guy climbed out and immediately started kissing. Relief hit him hard. The girl was much taller than Natalia, and she wore her dark hair in a short bob.

  The possessive thought caught him off guard, but before he could examine what it meant, a young guy helped another woman out of the cab. Cash watched him bury his hands inside her coat and pull her close. Slivers of ice crept over his chest and down his arms, causing his fingertips to tingle as the couple began kissing. He’d know that fabulous shapely body anywhere, even if it was hidden underneath a baggy coat.

  Caught in two minds, Cash hesitated, but when Natalia pressed her hand against the guy’s chest and tried to push him away, he launched himself out of the car. When Cash overheard the guy asking for a reward, he saw red. He gripped the top of the guy’s arms and yanked him backwards.

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

  The flash of shock that crossed Natalia’s face was quickly replaced with a cold, hard stare.

  “I can fight my own battles,” she hissed. “Go away, Cash.”

  “What the hell is going on?” Natalia’s friend appeared from the other side of the taxi, hand in hand with the bloke Cash had seen her kissing. She hard-stopped when she saw Cash. Her gaze jumped between him and Natalia. “Oh.”

  Natalia planted her hands on her hips. “It’s fine, Em. Cash was just going. As was Jack,” she added with hint of steel to her tone.

  Em took one look at Natalia’s face and turned to the other guy. “You’d better go.”

  Cash watched as the two guys climbed into the taxi. When he turned around, Natalia was halfway to her front door.

  He jogged after her. “Wait.”

  Natalia spun around. “No!” She said, holding up her hand. “You don’t get a say in my life, Cash. You made your feelings perfectly clear earlier today.”

  He flinched as her barb hit home. “That’s why I’m here. I want to talk to you.”

  “I’m not interested. I know you’re used to getting your own way, but newsflash, dickhead: you don’t always get what you want.”

  Natalia linked arms with her friend and stormed down the path. She opened the door and slammed it shut behind her.

  Cash sighed and then strode to Natalia’s front door. He knocked hard once, twice. No answer. He bent down and lifted the letterbox so he could shout through.

  “Natalia, open up.”

  A pair of stockinged feet appeared, and the chain rattled before the door opened a couple of inches. Natalia’s friend jutted her chin forward and kept her arm firmly across the doorway.

  “She doesn’t want to see you.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, hitting her with his most charming smile. “I know it’s late, but I’ve been waiting out here for almost four hours to talk to Natalia. I’m sure she’s told you about my appalling behaviour earlier today, and I totally understand why she wouldn’t want to speak to me. I don’t even want to speak to me.” He let out a low chuckle at his own joke.

  Her friend rubbed the back of her neck. “Look, she’s still pissed at you for what you did. Why don’t you leave it a while? Come back in a few days.”

  “I can’t. Look—” He frowned. “Sorry, I don’t know your name.”

  “Emmalee.”

  “Emmalee. Look, I don’t want to upset Natalia any more than I already have—in fact, the very opposite—but I’m heading home to Ireland tomorrow, and I don’t want to leave without making my apologies. It’s the least I can do.”

  Emmalee quietly considered his plea, and then she nodded. “Hang on.”

  She closed the door. Cash stuck his hands in his armpits and shuffled from one foot to the other while he waited. About one minute later, the lock rattled, and this time when the door opened, Natalia was standing on the other side.

  “Cash, it’s late. I’m tired. I’ve got work tomorrow. Just say what you’ve come to say, and then please leave.”

  She turned her back, leaving the door open. Guess that was my invitation. He followed her into a small, cosy living room. A Christmas tree stood in the corner, a few presents underneath, and the embers from a dying fire glowed red in the grate.

  “Nice place.”

  “Thanks.” She sat cross-legged on the sofa, her eyes cast downward.

  Cash hovered in the doorway, unsure whether to sit or remain standing. Uncertainty was a new feeling, and he didn’t bloody like it. He chucked his coat over the back of the sofa, sat beside Natalia, and reached for her hand, encouraged when she didn’t pull away.

  “I regret what happened.”

  She fixed him with a stare. “Which part, Cash? The part where you kissed me, put your hands on me, and then chucked me out when I tried to slow things down? Or the part where you think I’m such a weak little girl that I can’t fight my own battles and you have to swoop in and save me?”

  Cash jerked his head back. “Are you kidding me? That fucker was trying to force himself on you.”

  “Hardly,” she scoffed. “Em was right there, as was Neil. He was drunk, not stupid. I was handling the situation perfectly well until you turned up. You make a huge fuss about the article I wrote, which was harmless by the way, and yet you behave like a jerk in front of two strangers. Why aren’t you worried about that altercation getting in the papers?”

  Cash glanced over at Emmalee, who had settled herself into the chair by the fire and was taking a keen interest in their conversation.

  “Would you mind giving us a minute?”

  Emmalee’s gaze met Natalia’s.

  “It’s okay, Em,” Natalia said.

  “If you’re sure. I’ll be right next door,” she said, the warning clearly meant for Cash. He waited for her to leave before clasping Natalia’s hand once more.

  “I don’t have an explanation right now for how badly I treated you today. I’m a bastard. I do know I was fucking mad, though. That article made me fucking mad.”

  “Do you have to say fuck every other word?” she said with a disapproving glare.

  He shrugged. “I’m Irish. It’s in the DNA.”

  Encouraged when she smirked, he squeezed her hand. “Tell me what I can do to make it up to you.”

  “You could try apologising like a normal person and mean it.”

  Cash shrugged again. “Never have been good at saying sorry, and you can’t exactly put me in the normal bracket, sweetness. I prefer something a little more demonstrative.”

  His hand grazed her jaw, and he began to lower his mouth to hers. He so badly needed to taste her again. But as their lips touched, she pushed him away and scrambled to her feet.

  “No, Cash. For God’s sake.” She threw her arms to the side and shook her head violently. “You can’t just turn up here in the middle of the night, act like a complete jerk, then kiss me and think that makes everything okay.”

  Jesus, was he losing his fucking touch? Turned down twice in less than twenty-four hours by the same goddamn woman. Rupe would dine out on that for a motherfucking lifetime.

  He got to his feet and took a step towards her. She twisted the knife another couple of inches by taking a step away and holding her hands up. He gave a slow, disbelieving headshake. He didn’t have a clue how to deal with this. He spent his life fighting women off. A smile tugged at his lips at how egotistical that would sound.

  “Do you think this is funny?” she said.

  He touched his tongue to the edges of his top teeth and allowed his gaze to travel slowly over her body. A faint tinge of pink stained her cheeks, and her breathing sped up.

  “Easy, sweetness,” he said, holding his hands in the air as if calming a scared puppy. “I owed you an apology, and a goodbye kiss seemed a fun way to make it. My bad.” He shrugged into his coat.

  “You’re leav
ing?” she said. He was sure he detected a hint of dismay leaching into her voice, and he forced himself to control the smile that threatened.

  “Yeah. I’m flying to Belfast first thing, so I need to get some shut-eye.”

  He finished buttoning his coat and crossed over to where she was standing by the fireplace. He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, and she blushed again. He pressed his lips to the reddened skin before backing away.

  “See you, sweetness.” He threw a business card on the coffee table. “If you do ever want to demand my kind of apology, give me a call.”

  He winked, turned around, and left.

  TEN

  Tally stared at Cash’s disappearing back as he walked out. She planted her hands on her hips. His type of apology? Arrogance beyond belief. As the front door slammed, Em poked her head around the doorway.

  “Wow, he’s confident, isn’t he?”

  A wave of dismay hit Tally. “Do you think I’ve done the wrong thing? I never thought I’d even meet Cash let alone have a slim chance at something more.”

  “You definitely did the right thing, babes.” Em said. “It’s a game to someone like him, and he wants to win. He’s used to winning. Play it cool. You’ve turned him down, twice. Have you any idea the minority of one that probably puts you in?”

  Tally wrapped a lock of her hair around her forefinger. “He did look a little confused when I stopped him trying to kiss me.” She giggled as she recalled Cash’s furrowed brow, narrowed eyes, and tilted head. “Confounded is probably a better description.”

  “Well, there you go. Leave him to simmer in his own pompous stew for a few days. See if that doesn’t tenderise the meat a little.”

  Tally grinned. Em always did have fabulously unique turns of phrase. She glanced at her watch and yawned. “I need my bed. See you in the morning, honey.”

  “You too, sweetness.”

  Tally flipped a one-fingered salute behind her back and went to bed, Em’s laughter ringing in her ears.

  * * *

  Tally’s feet ached as she stood in line for the turkey. Marks and Spencer was heaving. Shopping trollies squeaked and groaned as panicked customers tried to manoeuvre the unwieldy carts around the store, piling enough food inside to last a month.

  “Mulled wine?” a shop assistant asked her, holding out a tray loaded with glasses of blackberry-coloured liquid. The strong smell of cinnamon hit her nostrils, and she shook her head, relieved when the assistant moved down the line.

  Eventually, she reached the front of the queue. She handed over her ticket. The assistant returned a minute or so later with her Christmas bird. As Tally hoisted the bag containing the turkey over her shoulder, she groaned. It weighed a bloody ton.

  By the time she arrived home, her back was killing her from carrying the heavy bags. She dumped the shopping on the kitchen table, grabbed a glass from the drainer, and cracked open the first bottle of wine she plucked from the bag. Why, oh why had she offered to host this year? She should have left it to Pete like in previous years, but in a moment of madness—or rather, alcohol-infused courage—she’d piped up. And because everyone had seemed so delighted at the idea, she hadn’t been able to back down. Now that Christmas was here, she was filled with panic, fear, frenzy, and yet more panic.

  She’d only been in about ten minutes when Em arrived, singing Christmas carols at the top of her voice, and out of tune, for good measure.

  “My ears are bleeding,” Tally shouted towards the hallway.

  Em strutted into the kitchen, hips swinging from side to side as she finished murdering “Deck the Halls,” a huge, lopsided grin on her face. She left her bag by the stove and planted a sloppy kiss on Tally’s cheek. She flopped into a chair and pointed her chin at the wine bottle.

  “Get me one of those. I’m done in.”

  Too tired to stand, Tally rocked the chair on two legs and swiped another glass off the drainer. After pouring a healthy serving, she slid the wine across the table. “Cheers.”

  “What the hell is wrong with you? It’s Christmas. You’ve finished work for eleven days, whereas some of us poor self-employed idiots are only off for two, and yet your gob is tripping you up.”

  “Two hours I stood in Marks for that lot.” Tally cocked her head at the pile of shopping. “And I’m going to have to be up all night basting the bloody turkey. I don’t even like turkey.”

  Em snickered. “You worry too much. By one o’clock tomorrow afternoon, everyone will be so pissed you could serve the damn thing raw, and none of us would notice.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right. But with your mum and dad coming, and Greg too, I just want to make a good impression.”

  Em snorted, and then giggled as wine spewed out of her nose. “You’re kidding, right?” she said, wiping her nose on her sleeve. “Greg would eat anything, including food even pigs would take a second look at, and Mum and Dad are so excited to be coming they couldn’t care less about the turkey.”

  “Are you looking forward to seeing them?”

  “Yeah. It’s been too long. I’m glad they’re enjoying their retirement in Spain, and it’s not even that far, but I’ve barely seen them this year, particularly now weddings take up most of my weekends.”

  “I can’t wait to see them either.” Tally stared down at her hands. “I wish Dad was here.”

  Em squeezed her arm. “I miss him too. Doesn’t get any easier, does it, babes?”

  Tally shook her head as a spear of pain sliced through her, and she blinked away tears that were never too far away at this time of year. “No” was all she managed to choke out.

  “Time for a change of subject,” Em said with a bright smile. “’Cause I am not mopping up tears at Christmas. Heard anything from Cash?”

  “No. And I don’t expect to. I thought you were changing the subject to one that would cheer me up.”

  “I am, if you’ll give me a minute to explain. I think it’s good you haven’t heard from him.”

  Tally raised her eyebrows. “And how do you work that out?”

  “Well, if I were a betting girl, I’d wager that right now he’s sitting all alone in his creepy old mansion surrounded by nothing but silence, madly trying to figure out how a woman he’d set his sights on had turned him down. Him. Cash ‘The Ace’ Gallagher. And not just once—twice. He’s probably called a doctor to check out his head, make sure he isn’t losing the plot.”

  Tally chuckled. “Great picture, Em. But if history is anything to go by, Cash is probably at home having his every whim tended to by a bevy of blond stunners. I doubt he even remembers my name.”

  She internally winced as her thoughts turned to how she’d let him touch her. Desire pooled low in her stomach, and heat flooded her face. She jumped up and buried her head in the nearest bag of shopping so Em wouldn’t notice she was blushing. The last thing she needed was an Emmalee Fallon interrogation.

  “I bet you’re wrong,” Em said, stubbornly refusing to let the matter drop.

  “Okay, time for you to go,” Tally said, shooing her out of the kitchen. “I need to get started on the turkey.

  When Em had gone, Tally put the shopping away. She started to mix the stuffing and prepare the turkey. It was going to be a long night. And she was not going to spend one more minute of it thinking about Cash bloody Gallagher.

  * * *

  Em leaned back and rubbed her stomach. “Tal, that was fabulous, but I’m stuffed.”

  “Yes, Tally darling,” Em’s mum said as she gathered the plates together. “It was wonderful.”

  “Thank God,” Tally said with a grin. “Here’s hoping no one calls me later to say they’ve got food poisoning.”

  She stood and picked up the plates, waving away an offer of help from Em’s mum. She carried the plates into the kitchen, desperate for five minutes to herself. Two days had passed since Cash made his “offer,” and every second was agony. She tried to tell herself Em was right. If she’d called him back that night, he would n
ow have the upper hand. And to give the upper hand to a man like Cash… well, it wasn’t the smartest thing to do.

  But keeping her distance wasn’t working either.

  She opened the kitchen drawer where she kept all sorts of junk and took out the business card Cash had chucked on the coffee table before he’d left. She was so tempted to call. She went as far as picking up her phone and plugging in his number, wondering what she’d say if he answered.

  Hey, it’s me, Tally. You know, the girl who let you grope her. So, fancy round two?

  Groaning, she tossed her phone on the table and chucked the card back in the drawer, even going so far as to bury it underneath a bunch of take-out menus as if out of sight really meant out of mind.

  She had to get a grip. She’d waited ten years to meet him, and… mission accomplished. But he lived in his world, and she lived in hers. Poles apart. Time to forget all about Cash Gallagher and move on. She’d been perfectly happy before she met him. Nothing had changed, not really.

  “Tally,” Em shouted through from the living room. “Hurry up. We’re about to start playing Trivial Pursuit.”

  “Coming,” she said, grabbing another bottle of wine from the fridge.

  She made sure everyone’s glasses were topped up, and had just sat down when a knock at the door had her standing up again. She frowned at Em. “You’re not expecting anyone, are you?”

  Em shook her head. Tally wandered over to the window and peeked through the blinds.

  “Who is it?” Em asked.

  Eyes wide in astonishment, Tally glanced over her shoulder. “It’s Cash.”

  ELEVEN

  For the second time in three days, Cash found himself sitting outside Natalia’s flat, except this time she was inside, so why he was still in the car, freezing his bollocks off, was a fucking mystery. If he craned his neck, he could just about see her through the window. She was laughing, her face radiant as she topped up everyone’s wine glasses, and yet he knew the minute he knocked at the door, her happiness would fall away and her brow would furrow in confusion. After all, he’d left the ball firmly in her deuce court, and she’d chosen not to hit it back over the net. In tennis terms, that would make him the winner.