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.

So why am I sitting outside like the fucking loser?

In his arrogance, he’d been certain she’d ring, even though he’d left her on Wednesday with such a fucking cheesy line. My type of apology. What a dick. But she hadn’t called. Guess she gave her answer.

And yet, there he was like some lovesick puppy, sitting up, begging, waiting for her to throw him some scraps. God, he wanted her.

He rubbed his stomach. That crippling ache was back, the one that had been growing more frequent ever since they’d made out in Rupe’s kitchen. He desperately wanted to kiss her again and a lot more besides. The brief taste of her had been like a shot of heroin. One fix, and he was hooked.

He touched his pocket to check that the gift he’d bought for her was still there, and then he opened the car door. As he stepped onto the icy pavement, his foot slipped. He grabbed the wing mirror for support. He did not need a broken leg this close to the start of the season. Brad would kill him, and Kinga would vent her wrath at the loss of potential revenue.

He gingerly negotiated the path to Natalia’s front door. The blinds were open, and now that he was out of the car, he could see properly into the living room. Everyone was sitting on the floor, gathered around a Trivial Pursuit board. A stab of envy hit him. If he suggested anything like that to his friends, they’d call the psych ward. And even though his family hadn’t been the type to play board games—far from it—who said he couldn’t miss what he’d never had?

He hesitated at the front door. This indecisiveness was a brand new experience, but she wasn’t exactly giving him a choice. He had to see her before flying to Brisbane.

He knocked on the door then sucked in a breath and held it. His stomach was coiled tight, and he fidgeted from foot to foot. The blinds moved, and Natalia’s face registered disbelief as she spotted him. When she disappeared, the wait to see if she answered the door was interminable. And then the latch jangled, and the door swung open.

“Hi,” he said as their gazes collided. Lame, Gallagher. Totally fucking lame.

“Hi,” she replied.

Her teeth grazed her bottom lip. God, he wanted to do that. His eyes swept over her, homing in on the way her tits strained against the pale-blue cashmere sweater she was wearing, and the way her jeans caressed her flared hips, the very hips he’d thought were way too voluptuous for his tastes. And if she turned around, those same jeans would be hugging that amazing arse he couldn’t get enough of.

“I’m sorry to interrupt your Christmas. I—fuck, Natalia, I don’t even know why I’m here. All I know is I couldn’t fly to Brisbane tomorrow without seeing you again.”

She tilted her head to the side. “I didn’t expect to see you.”

“I have something for you.” He fumbled in his jacket pocket for the gift he’d bought when what he really wanted to give her was twitching away in his pants. He held out the small box he’d picked up at Tiffany’s.

“What is it?” Her hand closed around the box, and her eyes sparkled as her gaze flitted between him and the gift.

“Open it.” His chest tightened. God, he hoped she liked what he’d chosen.

Her fingers trembled as she unwrapped the bright-red bow. Gift paper fluttered to the floor, and she hesitated before opening the box, and then she gasped.

“Cash. Oh my God, they’re gorgeous.”

The platinum diamond drop earrings shone brightly, even in the dim light from the street lamps. She lifted one out of the box, holding it up to her ear. “Suit me?” she said with a grin.

He swallowed past an enormous lump that had lodged in his throat. “Their beauty is nothing compared to yours.”

Her smile fell, and she replaced the earring back in the box, closing it with a snap.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t accept them.”

“Why not?” He’d dithered over choosing those earrings for a whole fucking hour, and she was throwing them back in his face?

“They’re too much, Cash. They must have cost a fortune, and we don’t even know each other. I wouldn’t be comfortable accepting such an extravagant gift.”

Lost for words, he simply gaped at her. He’d never had a girl refuse a present before. Usually, they nearly broke his arm grabbing whatever was offered. His hands remained by his sides as she held out the box containing the earrings.

“Are you deliberately trying to hurt my feelings?”

She inhaled sharply. “No. Of course not.”

“Then take the earrings, Natalia. I bought them for you, and if you don’t want them, I swear I will walk to the nearest rubbish bin and toss them inside.”

Her gaze bounced from the earrings to him and back again. “But I don’t understand why you would buy them for me.”

His smile built slowly, and he grazed her cheek with the back of his hand. “Because I can.”

She opened the box again and stared at the earrings. Eventually, she lifted her eyes to his. “I have no idea when I will ever go anywhere nice enough to wear them.”

“How about the third of February?”

“What’s happening on the third of February?”

“I’m taking you to dinner.”

She blinked several times as a small smile played about her lips. “Are you asking me out?”

“I guess so,” he said, more surprised than he would ever let on to her. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d formally asked a woman out on a date. Actually, that wasn’t true. His memory was perfect—he’d just never done it. “So are we on?”

“Why the third of February?”

“Because the Australian Open final is on the first, and the third is the earliest I can get home and readjust to GMT.”

“You’re planning to win, then?”

“I rarely lose, baby.”

“Are you talking about tennis or life in general?”

He grinned. “I’ll leave that for you to work out.”

She glanced over her shoulder. “Want to come in for a drink?”

“No. I don’t want to interrupt your evening with your family.”

A slow burn of a smile curved her lips upward. “Aren’t you at least going to wish me a Merry Christmas?”

Cash swallowed hard. Jesus, she was flirting with him. He took a step forward, and when she didn’t back up, he caught her hips and pulled her closer. Without a doubt, she’d be able to feel how hard his cock was, and it took all his willpower not to grind his pelvis against her. He bent his head, stopping just before their lips touched.

“Merry Christmas, Natalia.”

He pressed his mouth to hers, purposely keeping the kiss soft. He half expected her to change her mind and push him away, but she didn’t. Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her fingers in his hair. Pulling her even closer, he moved his lips slowly, and when she let out a soft moan, he slipped his tongue inside and gently licked against hers. Doused with the same powerful urge he’d had at Rupe’s place—to take her, to brand her as his, to warn the world that this one was taken—he deepened the kiss. When she moaned again, the sound deeper this time, his breathing quickened.

He drew away slowly, needing to put some distance between them before the spell she’d cast sent him over the edge, into madness. Resting his forehead against hers, he briefly closed his eyes to see if the world stopped spinning. When he opened them again, it was plain to see she was as affected as he was. Her face and neck were flushed, and her lips were slightly swollen.

With a half grin, he leaned in and softly grazed her earlobe with his teeth before whispering, “Third of February, Natalia. And if I have my way, by the end of the night, those earrings will be the only thing you’re wearing.”