Winning Ace: A Winning Ace Novel (Book 1)

by Tracie Delaney

  “Very.”

  “Are you coming home today?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She briefly recounted the conversation with Pete, sending Em into another fit of giggles.

  “I’d have paid good money to be with Dozer when he got that phone call. I’ll give him a ring later and see if he needs any witch hazel to soothe his wounded ego.”

  A quiet tap on the door interrupted her. “Hang on a minute, Em. I think room service is here.”

  She opened the door a crack, conscious she was only wearing Cash’s shirt. “Hi. Can you just leave it there?”

  The waiter politely nodded and placed the tray on the ground. When she was sure he’d gone, she took the food inside. “I’m back. Look, as soon as I find out what’s going on, I’ll give you another call or drop you a text.”

  “Okay, babes. Love you.”

  “Love you too,” she said and hung up.

  “Who was that?”

  Tally spun around to find Cash leaning casually against the doorframe to the bedroom with crossed arms and a half frown drawing his brows together. Apart from a pair of tight-fitting boxers, he was naked, and she couldn’t help treating herself to a slow, leisurely eyeful.

  “Em. I forgot to call her last night.”

  “Oh.” He smiled. “That’s okay, then.” He sauntered over to the room-service tray and poured two cups of coffee. “Cream?”

  Feeling flustered and a little embarrassed, she managed a shake of her head. “No, thanks. I hope you don’t mind me ordering that,” she said, pointing her chin at the tray.

  “Of course not.”

  “You haven’t seen what they’re charging yet.”

  He laughed. “I think I can stretch to a few pastries. Even at hotel prices.” He walked slowly towards her and passed her a cup. “I like the outfit.”

  She tugged at the shirttails. “Yeah, sorry. I don’t have anything else to wear. I need to buy some clothes today.”

  “No problem. I want to show you the sights anyway, so we’ll do some shopping at the same time.”

  “Do they have a Primark in Paris?”

  Cash smothered a croissant in jam and took a bite. He wiped the crumbs from the corner of his mouth and swallowed.

  “If they do, I have no desire to go there. Dior and Yves Saint Laurent are more to my taste.”

  “My credit card limit is definitely more suited to Primark.” Tally took a sip of coffee, peering at him over the rim of the cup. “When are you going to tell me why I need to take time off work?”

  Cash tilted his head, a half-smile playing about his lips. He crooked his finger, beckoning her over. She placed her coffee cup back on the tray and, knees knocking with nerves and excitement, moved closer.

  He tore off a piece of the croissant. “Open,” he said, slipping the warm dough into her mouth. She chewed, making appreciative noises at the back of her throat. He tore off a second piece, then a third, continuing until the whole croissant was gone.

  “I like feeding you,” he said, peeling the paper from an apple and cranberry muffin. She watched as his long, lean fingers broke off a piece. Those same fingers had played her body so skilfully the night before. Her face warmed, but Cash didn’t seem to notice as he fed her and then himself until the muffin was gone. When he offered her another pastry, she shook her head.

  “Thanks, I’m full. Do you think the hotel would have a toothbrush and toothpaste? I’m a little unprepared.”

  “If I’d asked you to pack an overnight bag, would you still have come?”

  Tally nibbled on her thumbnail and then tilted her head to one side. “We’ll never know, will we?” she said with a half-smile.

  Cash grinned as he picked up the phone and dialled reception. Five minutes later, a full set of toiletries was delivered to their suite.

  Tally showered and dressed. Her clothes were creased from spending the night on the floor, and the collar of her shirt wasn’t going to hide the love bite Cash had given her. She should have been annoyed he’d marked her, but weirdly, she wasn’t. She almost wanted people to see it, to know that he’d been the one to put it there.

  She smoothed the creases from her skirt as best she could and headed into the living room.

  “It’s all yours.”

  Cash looked up from his newspaper. He unfolded his long legs and slowly got to his feet. He tossed the paper on the chair and sauntered over to her, still in his boxers. She’d never known anyone so comfortable seminaked, or fully naked for that matter.

  “I had to sit on my fucking hands to stop myself joining you in the shower,” he said. “In fact, if you’d been five more minutes, I would have given in, but then we’d never get out, and I want to show you Paris.”

  He gave her a brief kiss before disappearing into the bedroom. She smiled as she watched his retreating back and then poured herself a second cup of coffee. She flicked through the paper, unable to do much more than look at the pictures. French never had been her forte, as her poor high school French teacher could no doubt attest to.

  Another soft tap sounded on the door. Must be room service. She gathered the cups and plates together and went to answer it.

  “Mademoiselle,” a very smartly dressed woman said as she waved a hand behind her. “I have brought couture.”

  Tally’s astounded gaze jumped between the woman’s earnest expression and the rail packed full of designer clothes behind her.

  TWENTY

  Cash dried off and slung a towel around his waist, ruffling his damp hair with his fingers. He opened the wardrobe and picked out a pair of jeans, black T-shirt, and a warm jacket. Thank God for Isaac. If Cash had been able to pull the same off for Natalia without alerting her flatmate, he would have done it, but outside of breaking and entering, he’d been unable to come up with a plan. It didn’t matter, though. In the end, he’d made a better plan.

  He grabbed a pair of socks from his drawer and bent over to pull them on as Natalia came storming into the bedroom. She slammed the door and glared at him, hands planted on those fabulously flared hips. “What the hell is going on?”

  He gave her an innocent stare. “What’s up, sweetness?”

  “Don’t you ‘sweetness’ me. This isn’t some scene out of Pretty Woman, Cash. And I am no high-class prostitute either.”

  He glowered up at her. “Don’t you fucking dare use that word about yourself.”

  “You tell me what I’m supposed to think, then,” she said through gritted teeth. “There is a woman out there with enough clothes to fill J. Lo’s wardrobe, and each item probably costs more than I make in a month.”

  Cash got to his feet and planted his own hands on his hips. “You’re supposed to think that I wanted to do something nice for you. That I figured you wouldn’t want to wear the same clothes two days straight. That I thought you’d be more comfortable sightseeing in something like jeans and boots and a warmer fucking coat than the flimsy jacket you wore last night.”

  The silence stretched between them, grey eyes fixed on blue, neither willing to give an inch. Eventually, Natalia took a step back, her cheeks hollowing out as she sucked in a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” she said, her pale complexion blotched with red patches. “My dad used to say I jumped to conclusions.”

  “He wasn’t wrong.”

  She chewed at the inside of her cheek, a sign he’d begun to recognise as a dip in her confidence. He tilted his head to one side and held out his arms, and she folded into them. She rested her head on his shoulder, her anger dissipating as quickly as it had arrived.

  “Am I forgiven?” he said, burying his nose in her hair and inhaling deeply. If that woman wasn’t next door, he knew exactly how he’d choose to make it up to her.

  “It’s you who should be forgiving me. It’s just that I’m quite a proud person. My dad was big on values.”

  “Gratitude is a value.”

  Her shoulders shook with laughter. “Touché,” she said, l
eaning back and grinning up at him. An unfamiliar sensation stirred in his chest as he looked down into those intense blue eyes that two minutes ago were flashing with anger and now showed mild amusement. His lungs refused to inflate properly, and he stepped away to give himself more room to breathe.

  “One outfit,” he managed to say through clenched teeth. “That’s all I ask. It’s freezing outside. And it’s my fault you’re here without your own clothes.”

  Natalia seemed none the wiser about his nonplussed state as she nodded. “Okay. One outfit. Stay here.”

  “But I want to watch,” Cash said with a pout. That made her laugh, which returned his juddering pulse to normal.

  “No watching,” she said, pushing down on his shoulders until he had no choice but to sit on the bed. “Don’t move.”

  Thirty minutes later, Natalia shouted through that she was ready. When he walked into the living room, she was alone. Their eyes met, and she smiled tentatively. Cash allowed his gaze to wander. The woman from Dior certainly knew her stuff. The skinny jeans Natalia wore clung in all the right places, and the deep-red cashmere V-neck sweater paired with them brought out the chestnut highlights in her hair and showed off just enough cleavage to keep him stiff all day. Knee-high boots finished the outfit and, even though they were flats, gave him all sorts of ideas.

  “Did she bring underwear too?” He cleared his throat as his imagination ran riot.

  “Yeah. Want to see?” She tugged down on the sweater, flashing a hint of red lace and the curve of one creamy white breast.

  He groaned. “Screw the sightseeing. I’d rather screw you instead.” He lunged for her, but she skipped out of reach.

  “Later, lover boy. You promised to show me Paris. And I want to see the sights.”

  “Well, the sight I want you to see is straining to escape from my pants.”

  She hit him with a look that was a perfect blend of disapproving schoolmistress and sexy seductress.

  “Self-control is a value too, Cash. Let’s see how yours fares today.”

  * * *

  Cash decided to take Natalia to Notre-Dame as the first stop on their sightseeing tour. He loved how walking around the old cathedral relaxed him, and at least he didn’t get pestered for selfies or autographs there. Whether that was because the tourists were so caught up in the fabulous architecture they didn’t notice him or because visiting locals really didn’t give a shit, he couldn’t know. Regardless, he pulled his baseball cap down low as he climbed out of the car. There were plenty of paparazzi in Paris who’d love to ruin his day.

  He took Natalia’s hand, and they strolled the short distance to the entrance. He glanced sideways, anxious for her reaction. Seeing Notre-Dame in person usually made quite a first impression.

  She craned her neck and shielded her eyes from the weak winter sun as a quiet “wow” escaped her lips.

  He smiled and led her through the centre stone archway into the cathedral, desperate for her to love it as much as he did. He wasn’t at all religious, but he could still appreciate the beauty of the architecture and the stunning detail of the stained-glass windows.

  “Oh, Cash. It’s amazing.” She moved ahead of him and walked up the centre aisle. Her fabulous hips swinging from side to side drew his gaze, and his cock twitched in appreciation.

  “Come on,” he said after they’d wandered around for a few minutes. “Let’s climb to the top.”

  “We can do that?”

  “Yes. But it’s rather tiring, so we’ll take it easy. I can’t have you using up all your energy.” He winked and repressed a grin at her slight smirk and shaking head.

  They climbed the south tower because, in his opinion, it was the best. As they reached the top of the spiral staircase, the Emmanuel bell chimed, and Natalia turned to him.

  “Listen to that,” she shouted over the tolling bells, a wide smile lighting up her face. His stomach clenched with need as she ran to the edge and grabbed the metal fence. “Look at the view. Cash, get over here.”

  He’d seen it many times before with many different women, but none had made him feel as though it was his first time again like Natalia did. He slipped an arm around her waist and enjoyed the unrivalled view of Paris through her eyes.

  “Is that Sacré-Coeur?”

  “Yes. We’ll go there later.”

  “Oh, and look—there’s the Eiffel Tower.” Her eyes darted around wildly as though trying to take in as much as she could, and her face flushed with what he hoped was excitement, although the keen wind this high up was probably contributing to the pinkish tinge on her cheeks.

  “And that?” She pointed to the left of the Eiffel Tower.

  “It’s called Dôme des Invalides. Napoleon is buried there.”

  “Is there anything you don’t know?”

  He grinned. “Paris is my favourite city. I visit here fairly often.”

  She looked up at him, holding a hand over her eyes to shade them from the sun. “With other women?”

  He shrugged. She dropped her hand and turned away, her body tensing up. He squeezed her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. “Don’t sweat it, baby.”

  “How many have you brought here?”

  He sighed. However he answered, it wasn’t going to be what she wanted to hear. “Let’s not do this.”

  She twisted around to face him. “I want to know.”

  “Why? I’ve got a past. Who hasn’t? But that’s where it is. I prefer to live in the present.”

  “Just tell me, Cash.”

  He expelled an irritated breath. “I don’t know. Seven, eight.”

  Her eyes glazed over, and she stared past him at a spot in the distance.

  “Natalia, look at me.” When her gaze slowly met his, he gently cupped her chin. “I’ve brought a lot of women here, that’s true, but with you, it feels different. Like I’ve never seen it before. Watching you unwrap the beauty of this city, seeing it unfold through your eyes and experiencing your excitement—well, it’s made it fresh and new for me too.”

  She blinked slowly and then blew out a heavy breath. “I’m sorry.”

  “What for?”

  “I have no right to feel jealous or proprietary over you. I have no rights at all.”

  Hearing her say those words was like being punched in the gut. He liked her being jealous, because he wanted her to want him that much.

  He placed his finger under her chin and tilted her head back. He moved slowly, building up the anticipation. He knew that the minute his lips touched hers he’d be lost. He kept his eyes open, watching hers fall shut as he kissed her. Her lips were warm despite the cold Paris wind swirling around them. He caught her hips and pulled her closer. Well drilled as it was, his cock grew hard. Yet accompanying the predictable hard-on was a very unpredictable and uneasy feeling that started in the centre of his chest and rapidly spread outwards. The brisk wind blew her hair across their faces, breaking the spell, and he dragged himself away.

  “Let’s go.” He turned around and began to descend the steps as panic gripped him. All he had to do now was work out why he was suddenly scared out of his mind.

  TWENTY-ONE

  “Cash, wait.”

  Tally ran after him, but his legs were much longer than hers, and he had a head start. She couldn’t figure out what had happened to spook him so much that he’d felt the need to take off. After all, they’d spent the last twelve hours or so with their lips locked together. There’d been nothing different about that last kiss from her perspective. It had the same impact as every other kiss they shared. She’d been spellbound, engrossed in how he made her feel everything at the same time as making her forget everything.

  She reached the bottom of the spiral staircase, her hamstrings burning because of the speed of her descent. The church was even busier than before. Her chest tightened. She couldn’t see him anywhere. Tally dodged the crowd gathered at the entrance and scanned the area, spotting his baseball cap at the front, by the altar. She eased into th
e pew to sit beside him and rested a hand on his thigh. “What’s up, ace?”

  His hand closed over hers, and he squeezed her fingers, but he didn’t make eye contact. “Is that because I am?”

  She frowned, wondering what he meant, then smiled when she figured it out. “You really do need to work on your lack of confidence. No, it’s because you serve a lot of them. It’s always been my nickname for you.”

  He chuckled under his breath. “I love it.” Standing, he tugged on her hand. “Come on. Next stop awaits.”

  “Wait a minute,” Tally said, forcing him to sit down again. “Why did you run off like that?”

  He looked at her then, and Tally’s heartbeat kicked up a notch as the smile drained from his eyes.

  “Honestly?”

  “Yes.”

  He swept a hand over the back of his head. “I’m not exactly sure.”

  She held her breath, scared at what he might say next but needing to hear it anyway.

  “When I kissed you up there, I felt… shit, I don’t know how to explain it. Uneasy, weird.”

  “Just what a girl wants to hear after a guy kisses her,” she said, trying desperately to make light of the situation even as her heart headed south.

  Cash half smiled and stood up. “Time to go.”

  “Hang on,” she said, but Cash had already started walking away.

  She’d rather have kept talking to get to the bottom of his weird feeling. She nearly shouted, This isn’t over! but guessed that yelling at the top of her voice wouldn’t go down so well inside a church. Plus, she doubted it would get her anywhere. Cash was the most stubborn man she’d ever met. Even this early in their relationship, she’d already figured out that if he didn’t want to talk, there wasn’t a way to force him.

  She mulled over what he’d said as she followed him out of Notre-Dame. Perhaps all her questioning about other women had pissed him off, and he was trying to find a way to dump her so he could return to his old life, one where he didn’t get weird feelings that made him uneasy.