Playing it Cool (Sydney Smoke Rugby)

by Amy Andrews

“You’re a lucky man.” Ryder, in a tux and his best black Akubra—in deference to the formality of the evening—clapped Dex on the back.

  “Who’s the cutie she’s with?” Linc asked.

  Dex shook himself out of his stunned inertia at the question. “That’s her friend, Em.”

  Linc rubbed his hands together. “I bags Em,” he announced, then grinned at his stupid pun.

  “She’s not a locker or the goddamn front seat,” Dex said irritably. “She’s a person.” He stalked away, but not before he heard Bodie say, “I think he was happier when he wasn’t getting laid.”

  He headed in Harper’s direction, despite an internal warning light blinking madly, advising him to leave it the hell alone. He ignored it and ploughed on, although it was slow going, dodging people milling around on the carpet and those who had stopped to talk to media outlets stationed along the entrance. But he kept his eyes on the goal.

  He and everyone else.

  A soup of emotions he couldn’t separate simmered in his gut. He’d assumed after what had transpired the last time they were together that Harper wasn’t coming. God knew, he’d have gotten out of it if he’d been able. But here she was. Looking stunningly sexy.

  “Harper,” he said, when he finally managed to weave around the last excited group of gala goers. She had her back to him, and he absently noted how demure the dress was at this angle before he noted the stiffening of her shoulders.

  She turned, her expression carefully neutral, her glossy mouth drawing his gaze. “Dexter,” she said coolly, a small, taut smile stretching her mouth. Em had also turned, but her expression wasn’t remotely neutral.

  She was Team Harper all the way.

  Now that he was here, he had no idea what to say to her. Except maybe offering her his jacket. And wrapping her up in it. “I didn’t think you’d be here after we…”

  She smiled cynically. “Surprise.”

  His gaze dropped to her cleavage. How could it not? He clenched his hands at his side as the overwhelming urge to bury his face in those curves took hold. To yank her into the nearest private alcove and do her against the wall. “You look…”

  His brain flicked through a host of possibilities. Hot. Sexy. Fuckable. He discarded them all. He didn’t want to be lecherous.

  Which left him with lame…“Nice,” he said finally.

  She stiffened further and Dex wished he could kick his own ass. He opened his mouth to try again but Em didn’t give him the chance.

  “Nice?” she hissed, her glare on full tilt. “Are you fucking kidding me?” she demanded, keeping her voice low. “Harper is so far out of the ballpark of nice, she’s on another freaking planet. In case you haven’t noticed, she has curves and cleavage most women would kill for. And seeing as how you’ve made it very clear that balls and not boobs are your thing, she’s going to have a good time flaunting them around here tonight, and I’d appreciate it if you’d stay the hell away from her.”

  Finished with her diatribe, she grabbed a solemn looking Harper by the arm. “Come on, girlfriend. Let’s go show those puppies off to guys who actually appreciate them.”

  And then they were both gone.

  …

  Suffice to say, Dex did not enjoy the night. Being in the same ballroom as Harper was bad enough. Being in the same ballroom as Harper in that dress was a frickin’ nightmare. He watched every man in the room stop by her table, ostensibly to congratulate her on the murals that were being projected onto all the walls, but really to have a conversation with her cleavage.

  Which she seemed to be lapping up.

  Anger and frustration simmered in his blood. And something else that felt too big, too intense, too…terrible to identify. Something that was making him crazier and crazier. So crazy he barely noticed any of his surroundings. Not the beautifully decorated tables, not the people he knew, not the conversations going on around him.

  “This is such a cool idea,” Valerie said, admiring the pink, heart-shaped toy ring on her middle finger.

  Each place had been set with a small goody bag, and amidst the things inside had been one of those plastic balls that popped out of vending machines loved by kids everywhere. The balls contained the usual junk—toy rings and necklaces and miniature plastic cars. The vending machine company was one of the event’s sponsors.

  Dex had no idea what was in his ball. He didn’t even look at his goody bag. He just sat there, brooding, trying and failing not to look at Harper, his mood getting blacker and blacker. Tanner and Matilda sitting to one side of him, and Linc and Valerie on the other, had given up trying to get any civilised conversation out of him.

  How he got through the meal, he didn’t know. Then the dancing started and he had to watch Harper dancing with what felt like every guy in the room. His table companions came and went to the dance floor, but Dex just sat and brooded.

  Women dropped by and asked him to dance, to which he politely declined, citing a training injury, until Tanner finally said, “Enough, Dex. Dance with someone or go home. Your fake injury is going to reach the media tables soon, and Griff will be even more pissed off at you than he is at the moment.”

  Linc chose that moment to come back to table. “Okay,” he announced, rubbing his hands. “I’m going to ask Em to dance.”

  “I wouldn’t if I were you,” Dex said morosely. “She’s knocked back every guy who’s asked so far. She broke up with someone not long ago, and if that evil glare is anything to go by, she’s still not very male friendly.”

  “I hate to tell you, buddy”—Linc slapped him on the back—“but that evil glare is solely for you. I, on the other hand, am charming and hot and have just the right kind of rebound sex a woman like Em needs. I’ll risk it.”

  “Wait.” Dex stood as Linc turned to go. “I’ll be your wing man.”

  And damn it all—if Harper could dance with every other guy at the gala she could damn well dance with him.

  Valerie glanced at Tanner as they departed. “I think you’d better go with them. He looks like he’s going to punch the next guy who comes within a metre radius of Harper.”

  “Yes.” Matilda nodded her agreement. “What the hell is wrong with him? I’ve never seen him so…cranky. He’s usually so contained.”

  “He’s in love,” Tanner stated, with an assurance that had captained the Smoke to three premierships in a row. “He just doesn’t know it yet.”

  “I sure as hell hope you’re going to be the one to tell him,” Matilda said, looking at Tanner expectantly.

  “I was hoping he’d figure it out by himself.”

  “And how’s that worked out?” she asked, her smile sweet, her gaze unrelenting.

  “Not so good,” Tanner admitted, looking like he’d rather be bringing Dex news about his latest STD status. “Guess he needs to hear it straight.”

  Matilda smiled and patted him on the arm. “My hero.”

  By the time they reached Harper, Dex had built up a full head of steam. She was back at the table, in between dancing partners, and he had to grip his hands around the empty chair next to her to stop himself from reaching for her.

  “Hey,” Linc said, smiling down at Em like she was something particularly delicious he wanted to spread on toast. Possibly even his sheets, if she was amenable. “I understand you’re in the market for some rebound sex, and I reckon I’m your guy. I have no morals, amazing ball control, and stamina to burn. Fancy a dance?”

  Em looked at Linc like he was something particularly nasty on the bottom of her shoe. She shot him a twisted smile capable of shrinking testicles in a three table radius. “I would rather drink poison.”

  Linc shot Em his winning smile. Dex had seen it enough times to know it had a reasonably high success rate. “I’ll be your poison, baby, just name it.”

  A guy with one of those trendy bushranger beards and no clue approached the table, smiling at Harper and asking her to dance. His hand rested on her shoulder, and Dex just about burst a blood vessel in his brain.


  “Dude,” he said, fixing his gaze on Harper’s shoulder. “You better take your hand off her, or I’m going to break your fingers.”

  The guy, clearly recognising Dexter immediately, threw up his hands and apologised, stepping slowly away. “Sorry, man, I didn’t realise she was your girlfriend.”

  Harper glared at Dex as the guy backed away and disappeared into the general hubbub of the crowd, but he was over any kind of rationality. “Dance with me,” he said, his heart beating so loud in his ears he could barely hear the music pumping out from the band.

  Hell, he could barely contain himself from hauling her up and dragging her onto the dance floor.

  “No.” She glanced at Linc who was clearly looking for another inroad with the aloof Em. “But I’ll dance with you,” she said, smiling at him.

  Linc, attuned to any woman’s interest no matter how facile, switched his attention to Harper’s cleavage. “Delighted.” He grinned.

  Dex’s blood pressure spiked into the danger zone. He looked at his teammate and friend. “Touch her, and I’ll break your fingers, too.”

  Harper, clearly dissatisfied with his macho crap glared at him. “You gonna break the fingers of every guy here tonight?”

  Dex nodded. “If I have to.”

  Harper shook her head at him. “What the hell is your problem?” she snapped.

  A film of red washed over Dex’s vision. “Did you have to wear something so revealing?” he demanded.

  She blinked. “Why not? The WAGS are wearing stuff just as revealing as I am.”

  Dex didn’t give a shit what Matilda and the other wives and girlfriends were revealing. He cared what she was putting out there.

  He cared a lot.

  Not because she was flaunting it, but because she was flaunting to everyone but him. The thought made him want to whip off his jacket. “The WAGS aren’t you.”

  Her eyes hardened at his growly response, and he realised too late that she’d misconstrued his words. He hadn’t meant she couldn’t compare. He’d meant he didn’t give a flying fuck what they wore or didn’t.

  But for someone as sensitive about her appearance as Harper, it had been a stupid thing to say.

  Unfortunately, she didn’t give him a chance to correct himself. “Don’t,” she hissed, rising to her feet, her temper obviously frayed to the point of snapping. “Don’t you dare come over here when you don’t want me, telling everyone else they can’t have me, either. Don’t be ashamed of being seen with me in public then stop others who aren’t.”

  Dex noted the heavy drag of her breath as those fascinating ribbons moved up and down in front of his eyes.

  “Oookay, big guy.” A hand as heavy as an All Black forward row landed on his shoulder. Tanner. “Let’s go get some air, huh?”

  The Smoke skipper smiled apologetically at Harper before glancing at Linc in an encompassing that means you, too, glare. Dex wanted air about as much as he wanted a kick in the balls. But Harper was furious, Em looked like she wanted to smash a plate over his head, and they were obviously attracting a bit of a crowd.

  Dex drew in a shaky breath as Tanner pulled on his arm. Somehow he’d made things worse, and he had no desire to be on the front page of the papers tomorrow morning for being a dick. Even if he was being a dick. He left reluctantly with Tanner and Linc, but it didn’t stop him from wanting to beat his chest in absolute frustration.

  “I got this,” Tanner said to Linc, keeping firm hold of Dex’s arm.

  Linc nodded and headed back to their table as Dex let himself be led to the exit. “You going to tell me what’s up with you?” Tanner said once he’d dragged Dex far enough away from the noise of the ballroom and the stares of curious onlookers. “Or do you want me to guess?”

  Dex slumped against the wall. “Harper.”

  Tanner snorted. “Harper is not what’s up with you. You are what’s up with you.”

  “Gee, thanks, man.” Dex glared at his so-called friend. “Your support is overwhelming.”

  “Okay, fine.” Tanner held up his hands in a surrender gesture. “Tell me, then.”

  Dex wished he knew where to start. He shoved a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what’s happening to me. She’s driving me crazy.”

  Tanner nodded calmly as if the news was no surprise to him. “Because?”

  Dex frowned. Because? What the fuck did he mean? “I don’t know why. She’s the first woman I’ve felt like I can be me around. I don’t have to be on or pretend I’m somebody I’m not. She gets who I really am, beyond what the club and the media try to project. She actually couldn’t care less about my rugby cred.”

  He glanced at Tanner for feedback, but he just stood there expectantly as if he was waiting for something.

  “She says she loves me then she tells me she’s not going to be my dirty little secret anymore. What the fuck?” he demanded of Tanner. “She’s not that. She’s never been that. I just don’t want to share her with anyone yet, but she thinks that means I’m trying to hide her. I hate that she thinks that.”

  Another calm nod from Tanner. “Because?”

  The blood vessel from earlier pulsed painfully at Dex’s temple. His heart beat loud in his ears as pressure built in Dex’s chest. “Because it’s not goddamn true,” he snapped. “Jesus. I can’t eat or drink or sleep, she’s got me tied in so many knots. Fuck, man, my whole game is off.”

  “Because?”

  The pressure built some more at Tanner’s insistent, annoying refrain. What did he want Dex to say? “Because…I think this thing with Harper is bigger than rugby. And frankly it scares the bejesus out of me.”

  Tanner smiled this time, like they’d just had some kind of breakthrough. “Because?”

  Dex’s blood pressure shot into stroke range as he contemplated popping Tanner right in the kisser. “God-fucking- dammit.” He glared at his best mate as the pressure inside his chest spiked then blew out in an almighty rush. “Because I love her, okay?”

  There was a moment of stunned silence from Dex, the truth so startling that his mouth shut with an audible snap.

  Tanner patted him on the shoulder. “Atta boy.” He grinned. “Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

  The revelation sunk in like a lead balloon, unable to be ignored or denied anymore. Christ. What a fucking blind fool he’d been. It was so obvious now. He wasn’t the same guy he’d been before he’d dared Harper Nugent to a game of strip Battlefront and ended up doing the wild thing on her couch.

  No matter how much he’d tried to tell himself nothing had changed.

  Oh, he was still him, but he was aware of the differences now. Like all his cells had been reprogrammed and there was something inherently changed about him. He just hadn’t realised it until Tanner had forced him to dig deep.

  He’d been too tunnel-visioned to allow anything outside of his career into the equation.

  Dex shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “This isn’t the way I planned things.”

  Tanner laughed, and he opened his eyes. “Give it up, dude. This’ll be better, trust me.”

  “I’ve got five years. I’m supposed to be concentrating on my football.”

  “And that’s what you’ve been doing? Fumbling the ball? Fucking up line outs? That’s you concentrating? Don’t you think you’ll be able to concentrate better when she’s in your life for good? Because I gotta tell you, keeping her on the outside is not working for you.”

  Dex knew the truth of it. And it wasn’t just about his rugby. Keeping Harper on the outside wasn’t working for him in any way. He was leading a half-life. He might as well be back in Perry Hill. What was a career if he didn’t have someone special to share it with?

  “I don’t want to do it without her anymore.”

  And with that, he surrendered every reservation, every mantra he’d ever lived by, and a huge weight lifted from his shoulders.

  He felt free—and in love.

  “Why are you telling me this?” Tanner gr
inned. “Go tell her.”

  Dex smiled back. He just wasn’t sure he hadn’t blown it completely. “She thinks I think she’s not glamorous enough to be a WAG.”

  Tanner shrugged. “So go prove she is.”

  …

  Harper’s legs shook as she walked up the four stairs to the stage, both from nerves and from her last confrontation with Dex. If it hadn’t been for this commitment, she’d have already left. Hell, if it had been up to her, Harper would have left after the red carpet incident, despite the obligation.

  Not that Em would have allowed it.

  The room was silent, and Harper felt acutely self-conscious, like every eye on her was judging her for what she was wearing and thinking how a woman her size should have chosen something a little more circumspect.

  Why, oh why, had she worn something so revealing? Why had she listened to Em?

  A few hours ago she’d felt proud and confident in the dress. It sure as hell had attracted a lot of attention. Dex’s eyes had almost fallen out of his head for starters, and then she’d been hit on all night by a bunch of good-looking single guys.

  It had been just what her ego had needed.

  She’d spent so many years thinking of herself as unattractive because of her curviness, but she could see with her own two eyes tonight that men did find her attractive. That she could actually turn heads. Dex included.

  Em had been right about Harper’s feelings of unworthiness, but tonight had started to redress that. Until Dex had opened his mouth. And now the doubt demons were back.

  The WAGS aren’t you.

  In one sentence, Dex has squashed her confidence.

  The emcee, Dan, a hot young paediatric doc from the hospital introduced her and the audience clapped. A guy at the front table, who Harper could just make out under the rim of the stage lights, half stood, put his thumb and forefinger in his mouth, and let a loud wolf whistle rip. He smiled at her, clutching his chest dramatically and tapping his fingers to mimic his beating heart as he sat down. Everyone at the nearby tables laughed and cheered, and it was a good boost to her flagging ego.

  Harper stood a little taller.

  Dan boosted it some more by bowing with a low flourish at the end of his spiel then playfully kissed her hand. He had flirty eyes and Harper noticed the same interest she’d seen in a lot of men tonight.