She pulled a face. Oh crap, this was like empty nest syndrome. How was that even possible for a twenty-six-year-old woman?
After pushing the call button, she waited while the program dialed and was rather surprised when her brother actually answered. The video was choppy but she could see him, tanned and more relaxed that she’d ever thought possible.
“Jude,” he said, grinning. “Bet you thought I wouldn’t be answering, right?”
Her heart ached, happy to see him so happy. “You got me. I didn’t.”
Joseph looked smug. “Christie reminded me.”
“That’s great.” And she meant it. Even if that left her feeling superfluous. Because Joseph deserved this happiness. He really did. “And where is your beloved?”
“My beloved is in the shower. We’re going to visit the Eiffel Tower this morning.” Joseph shifted around in his seat, his movements blurring the video. “So was there a purpose to this chat or are you just checking up on me?”
His tone was teasing but there was a serious look in his eyes. She sighed. “Would checking up on you sound too weird on your honeymoon?”
“Yes.”
Judith let out a breath and gave him a rueful grin. “Okay, so I miss you.”
“That’s allowed.” He smiled back at her. “I hear you had a big night with Marisa.”
She groaned. “Oh God, how did you hear about that? Did Caleb tell you?”
Joseph’s eyes widened. “Caleb? Was he there, too?”
Her cheeks felt hot all of the sudden. How silly. She had nothing to be embarrassed about. The texts, yes, they were embarrassing, but apart from that massively awkward and uncomfortable conversation in her kitchen, he seemed to have let that go. And there was the fact that he’d seen her upchucking in the loo, although he hadn’t teased her about it. Oh no, he’d tucked her up in bed then cooked her some food.
“No he wasn’t. But how come you know?”
“Marisa texted Christie.” Joseph wagged a finger at her. “I told her she had to stop her friend from leading my sister astray.”
Judith snorted. “Yes, well, I was doing a lot of the leading.”
“Tut tut, Jude. That’s not like you.”
“So? Perhaps I’m going through a belated teenage stage.”
Joseph sobered. “I gotta say, if anyone needs to go through a teenage stage, it should be you.”
“Is this where you tell me I need to cut loose and live a little?”
“Yeah. Though perhaps you could limit getting drunk in clubs to every second night.”
She gave a little shudder, remembering. “Don’t worry, I’m never doing that again, believe me.”
“Good. You still haven’t told me what Caleb was doing in all of this.”
“Oh, he came round the next morning. While I was sick. He kind of…looked after me I guess.”
Joseph didn’t seem to find that at all surprising. “Good man. Did he cook you his famous fry-up?”
Judith grimaced, remembering Caleb’s comment about his father. The casual mention had only added to her embarrassment. She’d known he’d had it tough when he’d been a kid, first losing his mother then having to deal with his alcoholic father, and the thought of him having to do the same with her made her uncomfortable. “Yes, he did.”
“Did you want to punch him?”
“That, too.”
“And yet you ended up eating all of it, right?”
“Yeah, I did. How does that work?”
Her brother smiled. “I don’t know but Cal’s been doing that for Luke and me for years. He’s got it down to a fine art.”
“Because of his dad?”
Joseph’s gaze became a little watchful. “That’s right.”
She bit her lip. “Does he…” She stopped, unsure quite what it was she wanted to ask.
“Does he what?”
“Does he mind?” She waved a hand. “Looking after someone with a hangover, I mean. It must bring back bad memories for him.” He hadn’t looked like he minded at the time. Oh no, he’d been patient and…kind. Like the guy she’d once known. The guy who always remembered her birthday—the only one who did because Joseph always forgot and her father was always too busy—and who always gave her a gift. The guy who’d put an awkward arm around her the Christmas he’d found her crying beside the letterbox when the mail failed yet again to produce a card from her mother. The guy who always took her out for an apologetic ice cream after he and Joe had taken their teasing a little too far.
Her brother blinked. “You know, it never occurred to me to ask.”
“Typical male.” Judith gave him a disgusted look.
“What can I say? I am a man, it’s true.” Joseph paused. “Why would you care if he minded anyway? I didn’t think Cal was your favorite person.”
Good question. Why did she mind? “He’s not, I just…” She broke off, sensing the conversation was heading into dangerous waters. “I just don’t particularly want to remind him of his alcoholic father.”
“I’m sure you didn’t.”
Time for a subject change. Very definitely. “You’ll be pleased to know that I decided to take on the calendar, though.”
Joseph grinned. “He talked you into it, then?”
She sighed. “He did.”
“Glad to hear it. Look, I know you didn’t want to work with him on it but I appreciate your decision to give it a go anyway.” Her brother paused. “He’s really not that bad, Jude.”
She shifted uncomfortably on the couch, remembering the way Caleb had pushed her hair back from her forehead after she’d been sick. A caring, affectionate gesture. Not the gesture of the player the media always promoted, that was for sure. And she was pretty sure players wouldn’t tuck her into bed with a glass of water and wait around for a couple of hours to make sure she was okay, either. “No,” she said slowly. “Maybe not all bad.”
The expression on Joseph’s face was serious. “Go easy on him, huh? He doesn’t have many in the way of genuine friends these days.”
“Perhaps if he wasn’t so arrogant all the time he’d have more.” A sulky, childish response, but she couldn’t help it. She didn’t want her feelings toward him to change. Not liking him was easier and far less complicated. When he was arrogant and cocky and fake she knew exactly how to deal with him, but when he looked after her, when he pushed her hair back from her forehead, when he said things like “you’re welcome”, things got a whole lot less simple.
Joseph’s eye roll was obvious even with the choppy video. “Give him a break. He’s looking at the end of his career approaching, okay? That’s not easy for anyone.”
Oh. Well, that she didn’t know. “What do you mean the end of his career?”
“What do you think? You don’t keep playing rugby until you’re of retirement age.”
She frowned. “He’s not that old.”
“He’s thirty-one and he’s already had a couple of injuries. That’s getting old for rugby players. He’s only got at most a couple of years of playing left.”
An uncomfortably guilty feeling spread through her. She hadn’t realized. It would be like someone had told her she only had a couple of years left before her photography career ended. The thought gave her hives.
“I didn’t know that,” she said slowly. “Is he bothered by it?”
“Yeah,” Joseph said dryly. “He’s bothered. He hides it well, but believe me, he’s bothered.”
The conversation moved on from Caleb after that even though her brother’s comments stayed with her after they’d ended the call. She wished he hadn’t told her. Fate seemed to be bent on making her change her mind about Caleb Steele and that was not allowed.
She didn’t want to remember the guy he’d been. Didn’t want to wonder if that guy still existed beneath his ‘Abs of Steele’ exterior. Because if he did, then it would make resisting the pull of their chemistry so much harder.
On the coffee table, her phone buzzed.
She reached
over and picked it up. Speak of the devil.
The charity liked the pic. They’ve given me the go ahead. We need to meet to sort out the photography side of it.
Judith frowned, noting the absence of babycakes, darling, or even honey pie. Or any of his other irritating endearments. He almost sounded…God forbid, professional. She flicked off a response.
That’s great news. What’s your schedule?
He didn’t reply immediately and it wasn’t until a couple of hours later, as she was getting into bed, that his response came back.
Sorry. Busy. I’ve got a training session at Eden Park first thing Friday morning. Why don’t you meet me there? We’ll talk then.
Still no babycakes. Strange she should notice and even stranger that she almost missed it. Because she hated the way he called her that. Hated it. Didn’t she?
She scowled at the screen and typed in a reply.
Okay.
Then paused and added, Studmuffin. Just to annoy him.
Five minutes passed with no response. Ten minutes. Nothing. Half an hour and she realized that he probably wasn’t going to send her a reply.
Irritated and disturbed and unsure of why, it took her a whole hour to finally get to sleep.
Chapter Five
Way too early Friday morning, Judith stood out in the rain watching a bunch of big blokes run up and down a soaking wet rugby field in pursuit of a muddy ball. Not exactly somewhere she’d ever thought to find herself, since what she knew about rugby could have fit on the head of the smallest pin in the world.
Cold, wet, and dripping, she wasn’t much keener on finding out more now.
A crowd of other people were also standing on the sidelines since it was a public training session. Fans, from the looks of it. A few kids, too, watching their idols before school. Lots of cheers erupted as the knot of men in the middle of the field broke up and one tall, powerful figure, holding the ball securely, began to run down the field toward the try-line.
It took her a while to work out that the man was Caleb. Difficult to tell when they were all covered in mud. And now that she’d seen him, it was hard to imagine how she could have thought he was anyone else.
He was so fast. Moving with power and a grace she’d never expected, he dodged and sidestepped everyone in his path, much to the delight of the onlookers who whooped and cheered as he approached the end of the field.
She almost cheered herself because he was magnificent. Really, truly magnificent. And then, from nowhere, a huge guy stepped into his path and took him down into the mud in a brutal tackle.
“Oh no,” she whispered, her heart in her mouth. How the hell could he get up from that? How the hell could anyone get up from that?
And yet, as the coach blew his whistle, the huge man got to his feet and reached down, pulling Caleb to his feet. Both men were grinning and seemed no worse for wear.
Judith shook herself and told her pounding heart to settle down. It was just a game. A silly, violent game. And if he got hurt that was his own stupid fault. She didn’t care.
The session began to break up, the team heading for the locker rooms. A few had stopped to speak to the onlookers, Caleb among them.
Judith slowly walked down the side of the field where he stood talking to a couple of the kids. She was surprised by the way he seemed in no hurry to move on, despite the fact that rain was now bucketing down. Stopping not far from him, she watched him, caught by the look on his face. He was listening to the boy in front of him, nodding as if the kid were telling him the most fascinating thing in the world, and not regaling him with boyish thoughts on the latest Blues match. Then Caleb said something to the boy, something Judith couldn’t catch. The kid’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. Caleb sunk down on his haunches so he was at eye-level and then began to talk, gesturing with both hands as if illustrating something. Talking strategy, maybe?
The kid watched him as if he were imparting the secrets of the universe.
Judith found herself reaching for her phone. The camera on it wasn’t the best but if she went back for the camera in her car, the moment would be gone. And she just couldn’t miss it.
The look on Caleb’s face. The look on the kid’s. Both of them totally caught up in the moment between them, despite the rain and the mud and the cold. As if nothing else existed.
She didn’t like spontaneous, on-the-fly photography sessions but there was no way she could recreate this in her studio, the artist inside her knew it.
Judith began taking pictures, hypnotized by the pair on the field.
Eventually Caleb finished whatever it was he was saying, rising to his full height again. The boy said something, beaming and waving what looked like a sodden piece of paper and a pen at him. Caleb laughed. Judith took another picture, a peculiar feeling taking up residence inside her. It was the same smile she’d seen in her studio. Natural and easy, so charming it made her want to smile right along with him.
Caleb took the boy’s pen and instead of signing the wet bit of paper, he tugged on the hem of the boy’s T-shirt. The kid nodded and grinned like a loon as Caleb signed the material. Judith took more pictures, the strange feeling turning into an ache somewhere in the region of her chest.
She lowered her phone, confused. She’d seen lots of sportspeople make nice to kids before and it had always seemed cheesy and fake. She’d assumed Caleb’s photo ops were the same, that his PR person had organized them, making him look good for the punters. But this wasn’t staged. Nor was it cheesy or fake. God, she did not want to be impressed with him. No she did not.
A couple of minutes later and Caleb had stopped to talk to more of the kids, signing autographs and shaking hands, no impatience about him, no sense that he was just going through the motions. Judith couldn’t stop watching him.
Eventually, most of the fans began to move off the field to escape the pouring rain. As he finished speaking to one, Caleb finally noticed her.
He ran to her, pushing his soaked hair off his face. He was utterly drenched, his shirt muddy and clinging to the powerful width of his shoulders, the material outlining the incredible muscles of his chest and abdomen. She couldn’t help the way her gaze dipped to see if his shorts were just as wet. And yes, they were. Very wet.
“Hey, Jude,” Caleb said. “I’m up here.”
Blushing furiously, she looked up at him. His eyes were dark and full of amusement, which was just so damn annoying. “Hi,” she said stiffly. “You told me to meet you here.”
“I did. And here you are.” He smiled. “Thanks for waiting.”
“No problem.” She braced herself for some massive amounts of teasing over wet jock shots or something similar.
All he said was, “Thought we could have coffee after this. Discuss the schedule and the other people involved in this calendar thing.”
No babycakes? No teasing about the studmuffin? No flirting? Judith realized she was fiddling with her hair and stopped. “Oh, sure. No worries.”
He glanced over the wet playing field. “I thought you’d want to wait in your car. It’s too wet to stand around here unless you’re a die-hard fan.”
Yes. The car. Good point. So why had she stood there watching him? She didn’t like rugby. She didn’t like rain. There was no reason at all for her to be here watching him.
“Oh…ah…I took some photos.” The best reason she could come up with. “Of you and that kid. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No. I don’t mind.” He looked away again, over to where a small group of hardy fans were standing, clearly waiting for him. It did not escape her attention that some of them were women. Correction: girls. Very young girls.
“I see you have some more fans,” she couldn’t help pointing out. “They look kind of excitable.”
Caleb frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” Familiar irritation slid under her skin and she tried not to let it show. “Don’t let me hold you up. That one in green looks like she might wet her pan
ts if you don’t get there soon.”
His frown disappeared, one corner of his mouth quirking. “It’s raining. Her pants are already wet.”
She didn’t want to smile at him, she really didn’t. Neither did she want to look into his dark eyes and see the heat burning there. She’d wanted professional and professional was what she’d got. Any unfortunate physical chemistry was her problem to deal with and deal with it she would.
Swallowing, she tore her gaze from his and made some minute adjustments to her umbrella. “I might go back to the car,” she said, her voice gone oddly thick. A burst of cheering erupted from the gathered crowd. “Before I get trampled by the ravening horde of Abs of Steele fans.”
“I won’t be long.”
“Take your time. I know, hands to shake. T-shirts to sign.”
Caleb’s gaze rested on her. “Do you want me to sign your T-shirt, Jude?” he asked softly, a sensual edge in his tone.
He’d slide his hands under her top, pulling it out to keep the fabric smooth. Then he’d lean in, pressing gently against her as he slid the pen against the softness of her breast. He’d be so close. Within kissing distance… “What? This? Are you mad?” The words came out breathless, tumbling over each other. “It’s vintage Vivienne Westwood.”
His smile widened, as if he knew exactly what was going on in her head. “I’ll meet you at your car after I’ve changed then, okay?” He gave her a wink and turned away, striding over to where the group of girls stood.
Judith bit her lip and cursed herself. She was an idiot. A complete idiot. What was she doing looking at him like that? And getting all breathless like she was one of his silly fans?
She glared at the group he was talking to, unreasonably aggravated by their eager comments, their excited giggles. Like they’d never seen a soaking wet, gorgeous, sexy rugby player before. Then, sure enough, one of them got out a pen from somewhere and pulled out the hem of her T-shirt.
Talking Dirty With the Player Page 7