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The Test in Brisbane didn’t go well.
The last thing Mitch knew he should be doing after a loss was attending the Skycatcher premiere. After being away in Australia for a week, he should be at the condo resting; he should be going over notes as to why they lost. He certainly shouldn’t be on a red carpet in front of dozens of photographers.
But she was going to be there, and he gave in to the need to see Liana as soon as he could.
When he did, he forgot to breathe.
She was laughing at something someone said. Dressed in a strapless purple and gold gown, her hair was loose, soft, and flowing. Mitch recognized the woman he was beginning to know, but this was also the Liana Murphy on the covers of magazines.
He remembered the first time he had seen her in person, also from a distance. She’d blown him away then. This time, he could appreciate the elegance of her movement, the slight tilt of her head when she was listening intently. Then he saw the way she moved her hand into the crook of an arm that belonged to another man.
“Mate, if you squeeze that glass any tighter, it will break.”
Mitch glanced at Connor. He took a quick drink from said glass, hoping the soft drink would calm him down. He’d prefer a beer, but with less than two months to go until the Championship, he needed to be disciplined. His body didn’t need the beer, but his pride was calling for it.
“Good to see you, too, Connor.”
“Welcome back. Tough loss. But I bet Barnsey was able to answer a few questions.”
Mitch didn’t respond, his eyes still trained on the couple who had everyone’s interests.
“They’re obviously very good friends,” Connor said.
“Obviously.” Mitch took another drink. He had seen enough. “How’s your shoulder, mate?”
“Good. I have the all-clear from the doctor. I think I could have played yesterday, but I guess it was the right call to let it rest completely.”
“Yeah, it was. We’ll need you at full strength next month. It’s going to be a long campaign. Where’s Cat?”
“Throwing up in the bathroom.”
“What?”
“Morning sickness, apparently, hits in the evenings too.”
“Mate, congratulations! That’s wonderful,” Mitch said, shaking Connor’s hand.
“It’s amazing. I don’t know what else to say. I’m the luckiest guy in the world.”
“You’ve told him?”
Mitch would never have guessed that Cat, now standing next to her husband, was pregnant. She still looked slim in a form-fitting red gown, her long blonde hair up.
Mitch hugged her. “I’m so happy for you both. You look beautiful.”
“Thanks, darl,” Cat said. “I feel like I just came off a rollercoaster after drinking a milkshake, but there was no way I would miss this for the world. Can you believe we’re here? At the Skycatcher premiere! But we haven’t had a chance to meet Mark Johnson, yet. Do you think he’ll notice I’m pregnant?”
Connor rolled his eyes. “Does it matter?”
“Er... yes. I may be married to you, but I still think he’s hot. But he’s only had eyes for Liana all night, hasn’t he?”
Mitch finished his drink. “Let’s go introduce ourselves. We don’t need to depend on Liana for that.”
Mitch didn’t wait to see if the Danes would follow. He suddenly realized he was tired of watching someone else touch Liana the way he wanted to.
So what, if that Mark Johnson was the international superstar in the highest-grossing spy movies ever? So what, in a global poll, if the Skycatcher series outranked Bond and Bourne? Mark Johnson was a visitor in New Zealand. This was his country.
Johnson’s arm seemed permanently fixed around Liana’s waist. When it was not, his fingers were up and down Liana’s spine, like they were lovers. Damn actor. Liana turned at that moment to greet him.
“Mitch! You’re here. Welcome back. You look very handsome tonight. The black-tie look suits you.”
All she had to do was smile and his anger instantly abated. Taking, the hand she offered, he bent to kiss her on the cheek, inhaling the scent that was hers.
“You look beautiful, Liana,” he whispered into her ear. He was used to seeing her hair up in a ponytail; she looked softer this way. He almost reached out to touch her hair. Then he felt her hand in his, squeezing it in response to his compliment. Warmth radiated through him from that touch. He yearned for more.
“And may I introduce you to Mark Johnson, the actor? Mark, this is Mitch Molloy, captain of New Zealand rugby.”
His warm fuzzy moment disappeared immediately. Mitch studied the actor, taking in that famous face: blonde hair cut close, a chiseled jawline, and blue eyes that were assessing him as well. And then there was that dimple. Even he had heard Cat drool over the dimple.
Close in height, they eyed each other face to face.
Mark nodded. “Good to meet you.”
“Likewise,” Mitch said. His instincts as a competitor told him he was about to play a game, and the man in front of him was going to make all the rules.
“Gentlemen, one for the Herald?” interrupted a photographer.
Mark put his arm across Mitch’s shoulders as they posed. “Liana speaks highly of you.”
Mitch smiled automatically. He didn’t like the arm around him, but it wouldn’t be a smart move to shrug it off with so much attention on them. “Funny, she’s never mentioned she knows one of the world’s most famous actors.”
The photographer left. In the background, Liana was talking animatedly to the Danes.
“No, she wouldn’t,” Mark said. “She’s good at keeping important relationships private.”
Turning to face him, Mitch tried to keep his voice neutral. “It must be a... very... special relationship, then.”
Mark’s eyes were piercing and ice cold.
“It is.”
Those two words felled him like a ton of bricks. Hard. No tackle Mitch had ever experienced on the field could compare to this emotional blindside. He was at a loss for words, and he hated that feeling.
Mark pursed his lips into a smile that never reached his eyes. “Are you allowed any downtime? Liana says you’re an avid kayaker. I am, too. I’m headed to Australia after this but can make it back here for a good reason.”
“And why would spending time with me be a good reason?”
“Because it would please her that her friends are getting along.”
No one observing the two would think there was an underlying tension in their short exchange. Mitch drew on all his years of on-field self-control to stop himself from hitting the smug bastard. He didn’t want to be in this conversation. All the Skycatcher DVDs he owned were going in the bin. The last thing he wanted to do was spend more time with Mark. But Mitch knew he would because he needed to know Liana was with people who would take care of her, who deserved her.
Mitch nodded abruptly. “I’ll get your contact information from Liana.”
“She’ll like that.”
Their conversation couldn’t have taken more than a few minutes, but it felt like his world had turned upside down. He didn’t understand it. He had no claims on her. They were just friends.
Mitch started to walk away when he felt a hand slip into his. He looked down, surprised to see Liana walking in step with him. “Where are you going? Didn’t you just get here?”
He held her hand a little tighter. His heart swelled when she responded. It was the first time she had initiated such an intimate touch. It was an innocent gesture, he reminded himself, like her hugs.
“Yeah, it’s been a long day. It’s been nonstop meetings and interviews since we landed. Everything took longer than expected. I hadn’t planned on staying long tonight, anyway. How about you?”
Liana nodded sympathetically. “Well, I was here for the movie. It’s been almost half an hour since we came to the party. Is Jay back, or did he go home?”
“He went straight home. He was one of the few of us who did well yesterday,” Mitch said. “You weren’t at the apartment last night.”
“No, I stayed over at Mark’s. We needed to catch up. But it’s been a while since I’ve spent any time with you. Do you have time for quick chat in the morning? Breakfast, maybe?”
Mitch ran his fingers through his hair. He scanned the room, not seeing anything. His heart was racing a mile a minute. She’d stayed over at Mark’s. He looked at Liana. “Yeah, breakfast... you know... look: I can stay in a hotel tonight. Or stay at someone’s place. I know you like your privacy. Jay’s not there... so... you know... if you want to have anyone over...”
Liana looked a little confused, and then she understood his insinuations. “What? You mean, Mark? Oh no... not in a million years!” She laughed. “Even if there were, he has to wake up early tomorrow for more press. The man needs his beauty sleep. Honestly, he can’t function on anything less than seven hours.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude.”
“There’s nothing to intrude on.” Her eyes reflected her amusement. “Besides, it’s your condo. I wouldn’t impose my private life on your space.”
Mitch decided to take a chance. “Let’s catch up tonight then. Meet me at the condo, say in a couple of hours?”
Liana looked surprised but pleased. “That’d be great. It’ll be good to hear things from you personally instead—”
“—instead of doing an internet search?”
She laughed. “Yes, instead of an internet search.”
A pair of arms snuck around Liana’s waist, drawing her away from him. Instantly, Mitch put his guard back on. Even if she didn’t think anything was going to happen with Mark, he wasn’t sure whether Mark felt the same way. He didn’t trust the man.
“Love, I’m going to steal you away from this rugby legend for a few minutes,” Mark said, his voice low and suggestive. He looked at Mitch. “Please forgive me. She’ll be in good hands, I promise you.”
Did the bastard just wink at him?
“I’m sure she will,” Mitch said through gritted teeth. Where’s that drink? Liana still had her hand pressed in his and squeezed it before moving away. He watched her walk with Mark. They looked utterly comfortable in each other’s presence, like a real couple. The way she curved her body into Mark’s spoke of a familiarity that she didn’t have with him. Then Mitch saw the tender way she brushed something away from his cheek.
Whether or not something was between them, she loved Mark Johnson.
He was done being there.
Mitch looked around; everything was in full swing. Cat seemed to have recovered from her bout in the bathroom. She was laughing animatedly with some people he didn’t recognize. Connor had his arm possessively around her. There was some dancing; a camera crew was interviewing other people, possibly actors in the film. He didn’t know. He didn’t care.
It still took him another thirty minutes to leave, his exit slowed by a few more handshakes and polite conversations. When he reached his car, he pulled off his black tie and unbuttoned the top of his shirt. He rested his head on the steering wheel; he felt like he was suffocating. He needed to get this out of his system somehow.
He drove quickly back to the Meriton. When he entered the condo, he walked straight to his bedroom to change. On impulse, he looked out his window; the pool was empty. Only an idiot would be out there at night in winter. But the pool itself was kept at a comfortable temperature year-round.
He changed swiftly and grabbed a towel. When he reached the pool, he ignored the iciness of the deck, took a deep breath of the cold air, and welcomed the slap of wind on his face. Anything to distract him from the torrents of unexplained frustration and anger that were swirling inside.
Banishing all thoughts, Mitch dove into the water.
* * *
An hour later, Liana pulled her car into the underground parking garage. When she reached the condo, she thought she’d find Mitch watching some telly or out on the balcony, but the rooms were dark and empty.
“Mitch?”
Maybe he’s asleep? She walked to the master bedroom and knocked. “Mitch?”
No answer. Odd. She pulled her phone out from her clutch. No messages. Liana frowned. Disappointment settled in the pit of her stomach. She had missed him this week. He had sent her a photo of the night view from his hotel room. All she saw was black, but it’d made her laugh.
She entered her room to change and went to the window to draw the curtains. It was then she caught the movement below, in the hot tub on the pool deck. She was trying to decide if it were Mitch when the figure in question got up. She recognized his physique immediately.
She watched him head back to the pool, diving in cleanly, then swimming. She had seen him play before, of course. On the field, he was aggressive, ruggedly so. But in the pool, he was graceful. His large frame pierced through the water so effortlessly, and the strength of his strokes propelled him forward with an elegance not usually associated with someone of his size. He was mesmerizing.
When Mitch returned, Liana was in a sweater and track pants, heating up soup in the kitchen. The scent of warm bread filled the condo. She smiled nervously he came to the kitchen counter. His hair was still wet. She suddenly ached to see how it’d feel against her fingers.
“Good swim? You must be a bit crazy, you know. It’s freezing,” she said, perhaps sounding a little too bright for that late at night.
“I needed it. Whatever you’re cooking, it smells good.”
“Soup. Are you hungry? I’m starving. I think all I managed to eat at the party was five pieces of appetizers. And I’m not even sure what they were,” Liana said, turning back to the stove. “It’s homemade. Nothing fancy, just your basic chicken noodle.”
“I wasn’t hungry, but I am now,” Mitch admitted as he sat down.
Liana placed a bowl in front of him and pulled the bread out from the oven. “You look better after the swim. You seemed a little... I don’t know... out of sorts at the party.”
“Probably more tired than anything. We didn’t have the results we wanted from Brisbane, but there’s still time to fix what we need to for the World Championship. Barnsey and the rest of management are on overtime. I need and want to be as involved as I can to get us ready.”
Liana placed the sliced baguette between them and pulled out another barstool to sit across from Mitch. “I know you’re in training, but can you take a glass of wine?”
“After that swim, I’ll risk it.”
Liana poured them each a glass. She raised hers. “To swimming outdoors in the winter. Better you than me.”
Mitch laughed at her unexpected toast. “Okay, I guess we’ll go with that. We’ll get you doing that after a year of living in New Zealand. You’ll be as tough as the rest of us.”
Liana shook her head. “I think Kiwis are just born tough.”
As they ate, Liana noticed a new bruise on Mitch’s cheek. He had scratches on his neck, and scabs were forming on his hands.
“That was perfect.” Mitch soaked up the last bit of soup with the bread. “Thank you. Just what I needed. You’ve spoiled Jay and me with the cooking this last month. Do you have a favorite thing to make?”
“No, not really. Cooking is one of my outlets. Remember, my grandparents owned a restaurant. I grew up with people cooking all the time. Even my Da loved to cook. Mum never quite forgave him when his curry beat hers in a family blind-tasting test.”
“Really?”
“Yes. He used to brag that besides playing in the quarterfinals of the FA Cup, that was his favorite victory.”
“Your father sounds like quite the character.”
“He was. He was full of energy. I miss him, but I also still feel his presence, especially when I’m on the sidelines managing the team.”
“I’ve been lucky enough to say I’ve not lost anyone close,” Mitch said. “My grandparents died when I was too young to remember. Everyone I love and admire is still around. I know that’s not going to be the case forever, but I’ve not had to experience what you have.”
It was easy to overlook how careful he was with words because of the casualness of his delivery. “Well, I hope it will be a long time before you do,” she said, softly.
“Me, too.”
She didn’t expect his hand to cover hers nor the current of electricity that went through her body when his thumb stroked the top of her hand. It was supposed to be a touch of comfort, except her body was far from relaxed. She watched the gentle, repetitive action, afraid to look up to see what Mitch could be feeling. His words from not so long ago echoed in her brain: “I don’t have room for anything–or anyone–this year.”
He was already under tremendous scrutiny. He didn’t need one more thing for the press to hound him about.
She pulled her hand away quickly and hoped her smile softened the sudden movement.
“Dessert! I made some banana cake.” Liana walked to the other side of the kitchen and opened the bread box that hid yesterday’s baking effort. She kept her back to Mitch. Breathe, Murphy! Calm down!
“When did you have time to make that?”
“As soon as those bananas have a speck of brown, I bake this. Plus, I wanted to give some to Mark.”
“Yes, Mark.”
Someone else may have missed the strained tone. Not her, now sensitive to his moods. She placed a plate with cake in front of him and met his gaze. “You can ask me.”
“Ask you what?”
“Whatever the question is behind your ‘yes, Mark’ statement. We will always be honest with each other, agreed? It’s what I want in all my relationships, especially with my friends. Life’s too complicated not to be able to talk honestly with friends.”
“Agreed,” Mitch said. He took a deep breath. “Are you and Mark Johnson seeing each other?”
“No.”
“Does he want something more than just being friends?”
“No.”
She was surprised to see he remained uncertain. She frowned, then made a decision. “I say this to you in confidence. He’s been in love with a wonderful woman for the past year. But she wants to stay in the background as long as possible. So, sometimes, being Mark Johnson’s date feeds a different type of rumor.”
Mitch couldn’t mask his surprise. He started to say something but stopped himself.
“No, ask me,” Liana said, urging him on. “If I can answer your question, I will. If I can’t for whatever reason, I’ll say so.”
Mitch studied the grains of the countertop. “It’s not a question but an observation. He loves you.”
Liana smiled. “Yes. And I love him. There’s a lot of love between us. I’ve known him since primary school. We grew up together. I know his girlfriend, his ‘secret love,’ so to speak. There are very few secrets between us. It’s beyond friendship. He is as close as family to me.”
“Were you two lovers?”
Was he testing her? Was he testing whatever it was they had or could have? “No one has ever asked me that before,” she said.
“Maybe it never meant enough for anyone to ask before.”
He had his interview-face but she caught the slight tick in his jaw as he feigned nonchalance. Liana weighed Mitch’s response. She had a choice: answer the question or ask one. She wanted to ask a question, but he wanted an answer.
“No,” she said. Does he believe her? Would it matter if he doesn’t? She met his gaze. “I don’t sleep with every man I love, and I do love him.”
Mitch blinked, and she saw him come out from behind the shield all public figures put up. He folded his arms before speaking again. “Well, he’s interested in going kayaking with me. He said I could get his number from you.”
“Of course,” she replied, curious at this piece of information. Mark usually preferred to keep his kayaking time to himself. He was here to work, and that usually meant no downtime.
Over cake, they steered the conversation to more neutral topics, eventually settling on the status of their respective teams. She liked how his mind worked as captain; it took a particular person to be able to be the conduit between manager and players. He had the best interests of the team at heart, but it was also his job to keep the players motivated and focused. Liana could see that the pressure of the fast-approaching World Championship was starting to take on a different weight.
Mitch answered her questions seriously. No more jokes about training. They were well-thought-through responses, statements that reflected hours of analysis and discussion. While never entirely out of the limelight, Mitch was starting to evolve into the primary spokesperson for the National Team. In victory, it would be a platform of adulation. In defeat, it would be a stage of culpability that few in the world would ever experience.
His questions about her team’s progress were a distraction from all of that. But he also seemed genuinely interested. He had learned the names of the twenty-five men she had brought to Southeast Asia, a set of facts some of the local reporters who had interviewed her couldn’t remember without a cheat sheet.
“I need to get to bed. You look like you could use a good night’s sleep as well,” Liana said. She wished she could brush away the deep lines of fatigue on his face.
“I should. I don’t sleep well in hotels, and that isn’t going to be great when we move into one for the Championship.”
“Will you or Jay stay here during your off-days?”
“Not too much. You know how it is: a lot goes on behind the scenes, and I need to stay close to management. I’ll come by for a change of scenery, or even a change of clothes, if you don’t mind.”
“It’s your home, Mitch. I know what these campaigns are like. Are you sure you’ll want me around?”
“It’s all right. And Jay already said not to let you go. He wants another lesson in sushi-making.”
Liana laughed.
Mitch grinned. “You don’t have a deadline to leave the Meriton. Plus, I like talking to you. You bring a different perspective on things. You’re also not caught up in my results.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. I’m still English. God Save the Queen and all that.”
“Right.”
“Well, I’m knackered. Too long a night. I’m getting too old for these events.”
“You looked like you belonged at those events.”
“Looking like and feeling like I belong are two different things, Mitch,” Liana said quietly.
* * *
Mitch couldn’t sleep that night, his mind replaying the evening. It had started off so badly, seeing Liana with another man, a man who had her permission to touch her. Mark wasn’t Blake. He was Liana’s equal in wealth and influence.
But she said there was nothing between them.
Mitch gave up. He got out of bed and walked quietly to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. He paused in front of Liana’s room, half wanting to knock on her door. He moved past it instead. She’d said she was tired.
He had never experienced jealousy like that. Yes, it was jealousy. He could admit it. The practical side of him wanted to negate the feeling; she wasn’t his to be jealous for. It didn’t stop those feelings from surfacing though.
Her words played heavily in his mind all night. He had a feeling that Liana wouldn’t usually explain her relationships with other people. He hadn’t liked her answer, but he realized what it meant that she was willing to give him one.
She was aware of their chemistry. He smiled when he remembered her nervousness at their touch. It was good to know she was as affected he was. His mind was wandering again.
Rugby first, Molloy. Remember Cardiff. Never again.
Four years later and he could still hear the sound of the team’s cleats echoing as they walked into the sheds after the final whistle. No one spoke. The number one team in the world, the expected champions, and they fell at the semifinals. They had failed. Shortly after that, he had to face the nation—the world—to explain why.
The weight of that loss was still with him.
But it was her smile he saw now. She confused him and was testing the strict discipline he had honed as a professional athlete. If she were anyone else—especially given their attraction to each other—Mitch might have made a move already. But the timing was all wrong.
Tonight, at the movie premiere, she was back to being the woman on the covers of magazines. Deep down, he was still the son of a farmer who was more at home in shorts and a T-shirt then he’d ever be in a tuxedo. Liana, on the other hand, was a global celebrity, who, according to Felicity, was scheduled to speak at the U.N. next year. Outside of rugby, no one really knew who Mitch Molloy was.
He hated to admit it, but he still didn’t know how to separate the fancy world he associated Liana with from the woman he was very interested in getting to know. Just when she seemed normal, she’d do something extraordinary like hang out with one of the sexiest men in the world. Who did that?
* * *
Two weeks later, back on the South Island, Mitch watched a very fit Mark Johnson exit his truck.
Before that moment, Mitch had always thought that Connor was the prime example of modern masculinity, a blend of raw strength with stylish sophistication. It was a mantle that Mitch, personally, had never aspired to, but he recognized the potency of it. He sent a silent apology to his friend as he reluctantly passed that title to an actor he didn’t like. Mark had “it”—that suave, masculine factor that oozed sex appeal even when dressed casually in a wetsuit and a spray jacket.
Mitch glanced at his watch: pommy bastard was on time. He had pegged Mark as the type who’d expect the world to wait for him. Mitch chided himself for falling for a stereotype. He was usually more open-minded when meeting someone new. Usually. Mark was Liana’s friend, he reminded himself. Be nice, Molloy. He forced a smile at the approaching figure.
They had agreed to meet where their kayak trip would end, a small alcove a few miles south of where the Waimakariri River opened into the sea. Dawn was barely breaking when they left Mark’s truck there. Mark had brought a thermos of hot chocolate, offering a cup to Mitch before they drove in Mitch’s truck to their launching point on the Waimak. As Mitch drove, he gave Mark a brief rundown of the course, including what to expect from currents and where trouble spots might be found. From Mark’s messages to him, Mitch gauged that Mark was a fairly experienced kayaker and decided to start their journey on one of the more challenging sections of the river.
As they drove, Mark asked questions about Mitch’s kayaking experience and about Christchurch in general. They were indulging in safe and impersonal topics, but Mitch had a feeling he was somehow being evaluated.
Mark hadn’t exaggerated his prowess in the kayak. If anything, he’d underemphasized his capabilities, handling the different lines of the river confidently. Mark deferred to Mitch’s local knowledge, never trying to overtake Mitch, trusting him. They fell into a comfortable partnership on the water, and despite his initial reservations about how the day would turn out, Mitch found himself enjoying the experience.
Sometime later, they emerged from the mouth of the river onto the ocean. It was a calm morning, and they let the current push them parallel to the coast. Mitch looked over at Mark. The bloody pom still looked like a movie star. Mark caught Mitch’s glance and smiled. It was a carefree smile, a genuine smile. They paddled toward the alcove, and, once beached, Mark brought some food from the chilly bin he had in the truck.
“You packed one?”
Mark shook his head. “No. The hotel did. I’m not sure what’s in it, but I’m famished. That was quite a run—probably one of the best ones I’ve been on in quite a while.”
The hotel did a good job, mused Mitch. Roasted chicken in soft rolls, fresh fruit, and another thermos, but with coffee. Good coffee. And linen napkins.
“So—Liana?” Mark asked.
Mitch choked on his sandwich.
“It’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” Mark took a bite out of his sandwich then looked at Mitch expectantly.
“Is it?”
“She likes you.”
“She told you that, did she?” Mitch pretended indifference. But his heart was pounding. The answer mattered.
“No. But I can tell. It’s the way she talks about you.”
“We’re friends. I like to think we’ve become good friends.”
Mark drank his coffee as he stood up. He stretched and looked out to the ocean. “It’s beautiful here.” He turned to look back at the still-seated Mitch. “Listen. I’ll keep it simple. She’s family to me. Don’t hurt her.”
He said it without anger or pretense. The message was clear enough. But the statement stayed with Mitch the rest of the day, long after the two men had parted ways. Why did Mark think he would or could hurt her?
