Cash tugged on his beard as he took his seat. The tips of his fingers still prickled where they’d touched Tally McKenzie’s neck. The smooth feel of her skin and the urge to taste her had been overwhelming. He shook his head. What the fuck was wrong with him? She wasn’t even his type. Tits too big, waist not narrow enough, and she had hips, for Christ’s sake. He liked his women athletic. And blond. Yet when he’d spotted her sitting next to Ralph, his instant attraction to her had floored him. Lots of women caught his attention, although they rarely kept it for long, but something about that one intrigued him. Surely, she can’t be Ralph’s plus-one. The errant thought caused an uncomfortable feeling to stir in his stomach, an alien sensation he didn’t recognise and definitely didn’t like.

He sipped his wine, his eyes automatically drawn to Tally’s table. As though sensing his gaze, she lifted her chin, and as their eyes met, she narrowed hers. A thrill ran through him. He liked a challenge, and the defiant look she’d fired his way was a challenge indeed. He was about to lift his glass in a toast to her when Kinga nudged him.

“What is with you tonight?”

Cash dragged his gaze away from table eight and forced himself to focus on Kinga. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

Kinga raised her eyebrows. “You’ve been restless since we landed on Friday. Are you still pissed because I invited Chelsea to dinner on Christmas Day?”

Cash shuddered at the mention of his ex, if he could even call her that. A better description would be someone he’d screwed for a few weeks and then hastily cut ties with when he’d realised she was hoping for more.

“You have uninvited her, right?”

Kinga laughed. “Yes. You made your feelings on that perfectly clear.”

Cash half smiled. “Then we’re all good. Stop worrying.”

Her head tilted to the side, and she squeezed his arm. “I am worried, though. You seem so distracted. If it’s not Chelsea, then what?

“I said I was fine. Drop it, please.”

“Are you upset because Rupe can’t be arsed coming home for Christmas?”

“I never expected him to,” Cash lied. “If he’d rather spend Christmas with strangers in the Caribbean than with his friends back home, that’s his lookout.”

Cash risked another glance across the room, but he couldn’t catch Tally’s attention because Ralph was busy chewing her ear off. When he turned back to face Kinga, she was frowning at him.

“Is something going on with that woman?”

“No,” Cash snapped. “Now, eat your food.”

Kinga took the hint, and Cash managed to avoid looking over at Tally for the rest of the meal, although he had to admit it took a monumental effort. His curiosity was off the scale about the only guest he didn’t even vaguely recognise, and he vowed to seek her out as soon as his speech was done.

As coffee and mints were being served, he made his way to the stage to greet the audience. Hundreds of faces stared at him expectantly. He cleared his throat and smoothed a hand down the back of his head.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for taking the time to struggle through the wonderful English weather to join me this evening at this amazing venue.” Cash swept his hand around the room for effect and was rewarded with a ripple of applause.

“The Cash Gallagher Foundation may bear my name, but the amazing work it does takes many people—too many to mention tonight—and I am forever grateful for their endless fundraising, their energetic volunteering, and their devoted care of the young men and women we commit our lives to helping and supporting.”

He paused and looked out into the audience, but the only face that stood out was hers, as though the rest of the room was in black and white and she glowed in glorious Technicolor. She was leaning forwards, which gave him a fantastic view of the swell of her tits above the neckline of her dress. Her tongue swept along her top lip, and for a moment, the words he’d memorised scattered. She wasn’t his type, and yet his cock seemed to think differently.

He dragged his mind away from his errant thoughts and forced himself to focus. Last thing he needed was an obvious hard-on. He might have a reputation as having an insatiable sexual appetite, but he didn’t need the evidence displayed quite so publicly. He replayed the last sentence of his speech in his head and fortunately found his place.

“I believe that sport targets the mind and body, bringing them into perfect harmony. Our foundation works tirelessly to help kids channel negative energy into positive outcomes through all types of sporting activity. Tonight, simply by being here, each and every one of you has made a difference to the work our foundation prides itself on. It’s too easy in modern society to write off those who need a little more help or attention in order to be the best people they can be. The Cash Gallagher Foundation vows not to turn our backs on those unique qualities but to embrace them, to recognise their individuality and give them the help and support to attain their full potential.”

This time, louder applause vibrated through the room. While Cash waited for it to abate, his gaze turned to Tally once more as though she was a magnet he was powerless to resist. Supporting her chin with her hands, she planted her elbows on the table, her attention fully focused on him. Reminding himself that there were journalists in the audience who could smell a story a fucking mile off, he tore his gaze away from her and made sure he spread his attention to every table.

“I’m proud to announce that the first graduate of our foundation is here this evening. Aiden Fletcher came to us when he was fourteen years old. Born of drug-addicted parents, Aiden was headed down the same road, but the foundation provided a different path for him, an alternative to his predetermined life, and a challenge I’m pleased to say he embraced with great enthusiasm. Last week Aiden was accepted into Great Britain’s Olympic Academy Programme for Cyclists.” Cash turned to his left and crooked his finger. “Up you come, Aiden.”

A flush crept across Aiden’s cheeks as he climbed onto the stage. Cash hugged him and then stood back and clapped. The boy covered his face with his hands and gave a slow shake of his head as he received a standing ovation. God, how Cash loved Aiden—his modesty, his determination to succeed, his endless talent. If he ever had a son, he’d want him to be exactly like Aiden Fletcher. Cash almost laughed out loud. To have a kid, he’d have to be with a woman longer than five fucking minutes, and that wasn’t about to happen.

Cash leaned forward and spoke into the microphone once more. “And now that I’ve suitably embarrassed him, I declare the dance floor open.”

He drew Aiden into another hug before giving him a friendly shove in the back. When Cash returned to his table, Kinga stood on tiptoes and kissed his cheek.

“You are one hell of a good man, Cash Gallagher.”

“Flattery will not get you a pay rise.”

She laughed and held out her hand. “Dance?”

He shook his head. “Maybe later. There’s someone I need to talk to.”

The dance floor was already full, and Cash struggled to make his way through the sheer number of people. When he reached table eight, it was empty. He scanned the dance floor but couldn’t spot her.

Sidling past masses of dancers swaying to the music and murmuring greetings along the way, Cash caught sight of her right in the middle of the dance floor. With Ralph. That uncomfortable feeling stirred again. Well, he was about to find out if she was Ralph’s plus-one.

“Ralphie,” Cash said, cutting in and easing him out of the way. “Hope you don’t mind.”

Ralph’s shoulders drooped, and he took two steps back. “Of course not, old chap.”

“Grand.” Ignoring Tally’s flash of surprise, Cash curled his arm around her waist and easily manoeuvred her to the far side of the dance floor, where the crowd was thinner.

“I may have been enjoying dancing with him,” she said once they had a little more room.

“But you weren’t, sweetness.”

“Don’t be so sure,” she said with a bite of grit to her tone.

He smirked. He’d been right about her challenging attitude. “Well, unless having several broken toes from your feet being trampled on and bleeding ears from being talked at for two hours straight without getting a word in edgeways turns you on, I’d say I’m right on the money.”

Her soft giggle had his cock twitching again. She was beguiling with a hint of innocence, but her eyes held a certain steeliness. The combination was intoxicating.

“Tally. Is that your real name?”

She frowned but then smoothed her brow so quickly he questioned whether she’d frowned at all. “Yes, why?”

“Somehow, it doesn’t fit.”

“It’s short for Natalia.”

“Better.”

“But most people call me Tally.”

“I’m not most people.”

She made an odd noise in her throat and turned her head to the side. Cash lightly cupped her chin and tilted it upwards.

“I know you’re not Ralph’s plus-one, so who did invite you here tonight, Natalia McKenzie? Because it wasn’t me.” He looked her up and down. “I’d definitely have remembered.”

Her whole body stiffened, and her pupils were so dilated they almost eclipsed the deep blue of her eyes—whose depths he could drown in if he allowed himself the luxury. He repressed a laugh. This woman was dangerous if she had him thinking shit like that.

A bead of sweat broke out above her top lip, and he frowned. Her earlier spark had waned, and she seemed out of her depth.

“Tara Innes-Kerr,” she eventually said.

Cash threw his head back and laughed. “You’re a fucking liar, sweetness. No way you’re a friend of Tara’s.”

Her mouth clamped into a thin line, and she tried to pull away. Cash held on tighter, and eventually, she stopped resisting. His hand rubbed circles over her satin-smooth back, and after a few seconds, her body relaxed.

“What makes you so sure I’m not?”

“Because Tara is a munter, sweetness. And you… you are exquisite.”

She tilted her head to the side, and a soft crease appeared between perfectly shaped eyebrows. He resisted the urge to put his mouth on it.

“What’s a munter?”

Cash grimaced as he tried to ignore the overwhelming need to shower that always gnawed at him whenever he thought about Tara and that one stupid, fucking night. “Someone sour on the inside. Describes Tara perfectly.”

She narrowed her eyes. “That’s a little mean.”

He bent down so that his mouth brushed her ear. Her body trembled, and he smiled to himself. She was adorable. And hot. And so not his type.

“Anyone who knows Tara would agree with me.” Cash pulled her closer, his hand making small circular movements over her back. He couldn’t get enough of how inviting her skin felt beneath his callused hand. Her body was full of soft curves that seemed to wrap around him like a well-tailored suit. Screw what he’d thought before—she was fucking perfect.

“If you dislike her so much, why did you invite her?”

He shrugged. “Her father is influential, and he donates regularly to my foundation.”

“Is everyone here a benefactor?”

“Mostly. Apart from you.” He winked, and a light flush crept over her cheeks. “So when are you going to tell me the truth, sweetness? Who are you really here with?”

Her answering smile was forced, igniting Cash’s curiosity further.

“No one,” she replied as she met his gaze steadily.

He flashed a crooked grin. “If you’re playing games with me, sweetness, you’ll lose.”

“I don’t play games,” she said, seeming genuinely offended. Either that, or she was a bloody good actress.

Keeping a tight hold on her waist with one hand, he held out his other one, palm up. “Hand it over.”

She frowned. “Hand what over?”

“Your invitation.”

Her face flushed bright red, and as she tried to pull away from him, she stumbled. If he hadn’t been holding on to her as tight as he was, she’d have ended up flat on her arse.

 “I-I’m not sure I have it any more.”

“I thought you said you don’t play games.”

“I don’t,” she said, a note of vehemence leaking into her tone.

“Looks like it to me, sweetness.”

As panic flitted across her face, he was hit with a horrifying thought. Kaminsky hadn’t turned up. What if the lovely Natalia McKenzie was her replacement? He stopped dancing and gripped her upper arms tightly.

“Are you a journalist?”

“No,” she said quickly, and then her face broke into a smile that would have the hardest man on his knees begging for scraps of her attention. “I don’t think I’m the right sort of person for a job like that.”

Relief that his radar wasn’t misfiring flooded through him, and he nodded. “True. You don’t seem like heartless trash who get their kicks out of making other people’s lives a misery.”

Before the journalist talk sent his mood on a downward spiral, he pulled her closer and spun her around a couple of times, humming out of tune in her ear until she giggled.

“You dance really well,” she said. “Singing, not so much.”

“My mother taught me to dance.”

She let out a gasp. Her eyes widened, and then she smiled warmly. “She did a great job. She must be a hell of a dancer.”

Agony tore at his insides, and he cursed. What the fuck was he doing talking to this stranger about his mother? “She was.”

Natalia dropped her gaze to the floor. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, jumping to her own conclusion.

“Shame my father wasn’t more fucking sorry.”

Her head snapped up, and those deep-blue eyes seemed to see right through him, right into his rotten core. Jesus, what the hell is wrong with me? He had to get away. This woman had a knack for inveigling information he did not want to give. She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, he released her so quickly she stumbled before regaining her footing. Cash didn’t even reach a hand out to steady her.

“Thanks for the dance,” Cash said.

He spun around on his heel and put some serious distance between them. He spent the next few hours working the room and making sure he stayed away from Natalia. The uneasy feeling he’d had when they danced eventually disappeared, but when he stood at the entrance door to say goodbye to his guests and thank them for coming, and she wasn’t in the line, he had to cram down his disappointment that he hadn’t seen her leave. And he still didn’t know who she was.

When the last guest had gone, he sighed and sagged against the wall. “Thank fuck that’s over.”

Kinga stroked his arm and smiled. She seemed collected, but her glassy stare told him she was on the wrong side of sober. “Tired?”

He rubbed his eyes. “Knackered. Where’s Isaac?”

She flicked her head. “Checking the route to your room is clear.”

Cash nodded and wandered over to the nearest table. He poured a glass of red from a half-empty bottle and sank into the nearest chair, sipping it while he waited for Isaac to tell him it was okay to go to bed. Occasionally, fans and groupies hid in doorways, hoping for an opportunity to get him into bed, and a couple of times they’d even managed to break into his hotel room. Because of that, Isaac now insisted on sweeping the route from wherever Cash happened to be to wherever he was spending the night. And then Isaac would search the hotel suite too.

Ten minutes later, Isaac appeared in the doorway and waved him over. Cash wearily got to his feet and followed Isaac and Kinga into the lift. When it stopped on the ninth floor, Isaac stepped out first and led the way to Cash’s suite. He opened the door, signalled for Cash to wait, and went inside, even though he’d checked the room five minutes earlier. Satisfied it remained empty, Isaac handed Cash the key card, shook his hand, and gave Kinga a kiss on the cheek before heading to his own room.

Cash sagged into a chair, relieved he held this event only once per year. Playing a hard tennis match or spending time in the gym didn’t tire him half as much as a few hours making small talk. He unfastened his shoes and kicked them against the wall. His head flopped against the back of the chair, and his eyes fell shut, but when Kinga squeezed his hand, they snapped back open.

“It was a great event, Cash.”

He lifted his head and stared at her hand clutching his, knowing exactly where this was going before she even made her next move. He met her gaze. “Don’t, Kinga.”

She squatted in front of him, gripped his knees and pushed his legs apart, shuffling into the space she’d created. Her cool hands cupped his face, and she grazed his cheeks with her thumbs. “I’m better for you than any of those others. Look what a team we are tennis-wise. Think how great we’d be as partners.”

Cash gripped her wrists, and as gently as he could, he pulled her hands away from his face. “We are partners. You’re a fantastic agent, Kinga. The best. And a great friend. But I am never going to fuck you. I don’t feel that way about you.”

Her eyes sparked in defiance. “Yet you’ll fuck a hundred skanks. Barrel dregs like Tara.”

He winced. Her vitriol was too close to the truth. “That’s enough,” he said, struggling to keep his voice quiet and even. Experience told him calm and firm was the best way to deal with Kinga when she got like this.

“What is it about them, Cash?” she said, her voice taking on an unattractive whiney tone. “Why them and not me?”

Cash sighed and wearily clambered to his feet. He gently gripped her by the elbow and helped her up from where she was still kneeling on the floor.

“You mean the world to me, but I can’t force what isn’t there. Maybe lay off the booze for a bit, yeah?” He led her to the door, relieved when she didn’t resist, and steered her into the hallway. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Before she could react, he closed the door and turned the deadbolt. He wouldn’t put it past Kinga to use her not inconsiderable charms to source a spare key card for his room. He loved her, but every time she got drunk, she made a pass, and he was forced to reject her. Tomorrow she’d be contrite and embarrassed, and he’d say it was okay even though it wasn’t. He knew her fixation on him was baseless, but as long as it was there, she wouldn’t open herself up to meeting anyone else, and Kinga was the sort of woman who would want to settle down one day, get married and have kids. Even if he had been attracted to her, he wasn’t that guy. The sooner she realised that, the happier she’d be.

He stripped off his clothes and took a quick shower. His muscles ached as he climbed into bed. He flung his arms over his head and stretched. Craving the oblivion of sleep, he closed his eyes, but all he could see behind the lids was Natalia McKenzie. As he recalled her quiet beauty, her throaty laugh that promised all sorts of possibilities, and how her voluptuous body had wrapped around his on the dance floor, he hardened.

He tossed the covers to one side and launched himself out of bed. He strode naked across the suite and poured half a glass of Midleton, throwing it down his throat. The welcoming burn gave him the self-approval to pour another. Making a snap decision, he grabbed his phone off the desk and found the contact he needed.

“Cash, baby,” Suze purred, answering on the first ring. “It’s been a while. What do you need?”

“Dorchester,” he demanded. “Harlequin Suite.”

“I’m on my way.”

Suze was always up for anything, and that was exactly what he needed at the moment. No emotion, just sex. He threw his phone on the desk and paced. He didn’t want Suze. He wanted her, Natalia McKenzie. But he couldn’t have her because he didn’t know where she lived. It wouldn’t be very difficult to locate her, and he’d already made up his mind to get someone working on it the next day, but she wasn’t there at the moment, and every time he thought about how her body had melded into his…

Christ, he needed a fuck.

Thirty minutes later, a light knock on the door interrupted his pacing. He peered through the spy hole in case it was Kinga then flung open the door. Suze glanced down, taking in his nakedness, and her eyes widened in appreciation. He wrapped his hand around her wrist and yanked her inside, slamming the door behind her.

“Hey, gorgeous.” Suze reached up to curve her arms around his neck. “Long time no see.”

Cash didn’t reply. He grabbed a condom and gripped the hem of her barely-there skirt, bunching the material around her waist. He ripped the thin silk thong and tossed it aside before rolling the rubber down his cock and thrusting inside her, caring nothing for her pleasure, only his own. He closed his eyes. The last thing he wanted to see was Suze’s face. Instead, he pictured Natalia McKenzie. He imagined what it would feel like to have her voluptuous body beneath his. To feel those long, shapely legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer. To have those amazing tits pressed hard against his chest as he pushed himself inside over and over again.

After five or six thrusts, he came, the orgasm barely giving him any release from his earlier frustration. He immediately pulled out of Suze. Without saying a word, he strode into the bathroom and firmly closed the door, locking it for good measure. He yanked off the condom as though it burned him and threw it into the toilet. Standing with his hands braced either side of the sink, he glared at himself in the mirror. Staring back was the face and body that countless women all over the world fantasised about, but Cash knew the truth: all that was just a pretty façade. Underneath, he was rotten. Unworthy of adoration, devotion, and definitely love.

He stepped back into the bedroom. Suze had undressed and was lying, spread-eagled, in the middle of his bed.

“You’re not staying tonight, Suze,” he said softly.

She beamed and patted the space beside her. “Come on, lover. I know that wasn’t your best work, but you must have needed it. How long has it been?”

“I said not tonight,” he snapped and then in a more measured tone said, “You know the deal.”

Suze climbed off the bed. Hips swaying, she sauntered over to him. Her hands curled around his face. “You’re too tense, baby. Let me relax you.”

She began to sink to her knees before Cash gripped her shoulders and pulled her upright. “I said no.”

Suze pursed her lips, and for a minute, he thought she was going to cause a scene—one he’d have no choice but to deal with harshly. But then she shrugged and began gathering her clothes. She picked up her thong and swung the torn material around her index finger. “You owe me one. And I don’t just mean a new thong.”

Cash forced a smile he wasn’t feeling. “La Perla?”

“I’ll expect a suitably large gift box in the post.” She dressed quickly and stuffed her feet back into her shoes. With a brief caress as she passed, she smiled. “Don’t be a stranger, baby. Call me when you get back from Oz.”

Cash closed the door behind her and fastened the deadbolt. He snatched up the whiskey bottle and took a long draw before dangling it loosely from his hand as he wandered over to the window. He stared at the road below. Even though the shops were closed, the streets were full. Young lovers strolled arm in arm, ignoring the bite from the wind as they stared into each other’s eyes, and gangs of girls and guys stumbled from pub to pub even though, like him, they’d probably had more than enough booze for one night. Not for the first time, he yearned to be one of those faceless thousands who could walk down the street in peace.

He should have been happy. He was respected, had a career he adored, and made more money than he could ever hope to spend. His life was full and rich.

And yet he was the poorest person he knew.