Tally pushed open the door to Starbucks and looked around for Kinga. She spotted her at the back of the coffee shop, nursing a half-finished latte.

Tally rushed over. “Sorry I’m late. Traffic was awful. Do you want another coffee?”

“That’d be great,” Kinga said with a smile.

Tally grabbed a couple of coffees and sat down with a sigh. “I hate driving Cash’s car. It’s too big. Took me ages to find a big enough parking space that wouldn’t mean I had to climb out of the window.”

Kinga laughed. “You should have got him to drop you off.”

“He couldn’t. Brad’s over at ours,” she said with a mischievous grin. “He thought Cash needed some extra practice after losing his semifinal in Monte Carlo.”

Kinga grimaced. “How has he taken the loss now he’s had a few days to let it sink in?”

Tally picked up her coffee and took a sip. “Surprisingly well. He recognised he was half a yard short and that’s why he didn’t make the finals.” She grinned. “Brad had that determined look when he arrived this morning.” She put her cup on the table. “So, what’s up?”

Kinga tilted her head to one side. “Has anyone ever told you that you have an innate ability to read situations very well?”

Tally shrugged. “It’s no big secret. When we met the other day, you looked like you had something on your mind, and so when you called this morning asking to meet up, I figured you’d decided to tell me.”

Kinga minutely shook her head. “Very astute.” She fixed Tally with a stare, her eyes holding a tinge of fear mingled with regret. “I owe you an apology.”

Tally frowned. “You’ve already apologised. There’s no need to keep raking over the coals every time we see each other.”

Kinga gripped the cross on the chain she always wore and clenched it tightly. “No, not that. This is worse. I wasn’t sure whether to tell you, but I can’t keep it from you any longer. It’s not right.”

A swirl of apprehension began to grow in Tally’s stomach, and her skin prickled. “Tell me what?”

Kinga closed her eyes and took a deep breath before locking her gaze on Tally once more. “I took the photographs. The ones of Cash with that woman.” As Tally gaped at her, Kinga rushed on. “I’m guessing it was completely innocent because you two are still together, and I’m so glad you didn’t break up because of me. But as I’m trying to make a fresh start, I wanted you to know.”

As shock rolled through Tally’s system, she covered her face with her hands and scrubbed hard. “I don’t believe this.”

“It was all part of my illness. I’m so sorry.”

Tally narrowed her eyes. “But I don’t get it. The pictures were taken on the Tuesday, and you’d already checked into that residential facility in London. Cash did some digging because it crossed his mind you might have been the culprit.”

Kinga wiped a hand over her mouth, smudging her usually perfect lipstick. “I did check myself into the facility after the altercation with Cash on that Saturday, but over the next couple of days, I got more and more angry at how awful he’d been—how cold and dismissive, and how protective he was of you. I hated you both back then, and I wanted you to suffer, so I flew back to Ireland and followed him, waiting for a chance to cause trouble. I got lucky.” She grimaced. “Sorry, wrong word.”

As her head began to pound, Tally massaged her temples. “We did break up. For about three weeks. Fortunately, Cash managed to persuade me he hadn’t cheated and the situation was completely innocent.”

Kinga winced, and her hand tightened around her necklace. “I don’t know what to say. Can you ever forgive me?”

“Jesus, Kinga, you couldn’t have told me this earlier? Or did you keep it a secret so I’d help you get your job back?”

Kinga recoiled. “No. God, I wanted to tell you straight away when we talked in Monte Carlo, but I didn’t know where to start.” Her hands trembled as she wrapped them around her coffee cup. “What do you think Cash will do?”

Tally put her hand up. “Stop, please. Let me think.”

Kinga fell silent as Tally ran scenarios through her mind. Cash would sack Kinga immediately. No, worse than that—he would seek revenge. He’d ruin Kinga’s life, and as much as Tally could feel anger and disappointment bubbling beneath her skin, she kept coming back to the fact that Kinga had been ill. That didn’t excuse her behaviour but did explain it. No, she had to keep this from Cash, at least for the time being. When the time was right, she’d tell him.

She met Kinga’s anxious stare. “I’m not going to lie. I’m furious that you almost ruined the best thing that had ever happened to me, but the fact is you didn’t. Cash and I are stronger than ever, but our breakup meant he missed a lot of tennis. If I tell him this now, it will destroy his focus once more. So here’s the plan. I won’t tell him, and neither will you. Sometime in the future, when things are more settled, I’ll talk to him. Agreed?”

Kinga nodded. “Whatever you think’s best.”

* * *

Sweat poured off Cash as he prepared to face another onslaught from the ball machine. Brad was clearly trying to fucking kill him. The machine was set at top speed and the highest random oscillation, meaning Cash had to sprint side to side, go forward and backward, prepare for lobs, drive volleys, forehands, and backhands. His game was improving, no doubt about it. He’d made up the half-yard short that had contributed to his loss in the semis at the Monte-Carlo Masters, and he was almost back to his physical best.

“Okay, let’s call it there.” Brad passed him a protein drink and a banana.

Cash sank to the floor, groaning as his body violently protested. “I’m too old for this shit.”

Brad picked up a tennis ball that had rolled to his feet. “Give up, then. About time I retired to a Caribbean island and had hot girls in skimpy bikinis bringing me all the mojitos I can drink.”

“Yeah, right. You’d get bored in about ten minutes.”

“Don’t bank on it.” Brad bounced the ball on the floor. “How did the pace feel?”

“It’s there, or thereabouts. I was thinking of playing Munich ahead of Madrid.”

Brad shook his head. “It’s too close, the points are worth shit, and it’ll tire you for the following week.”

“You don’t think I need a few matches under my belt?”

“No. What you need is to remember you’re number fucking one, no matter what the rankings say.”

Brad moved around the court, collecting stray tennis balls and popping them back into the machine. Brad knew him too well, could read that his confidence wasn’t where it should be. Winning on a tennis court was as much about belief as talent. Sometimes more so. And at the moment, Cash had very little faith in himself.

“You mind if I go?” he said to Brad, anxious to catch up with Natalia to see how her meet-up with Kinga had panned out. In the couple of weeks Kinga had been back on the team, he couldn’t find fault either with the level of commitment she’d shown to him or her kindness towards Natalia. Cash hadn’t dropped his guard, though. He didn’t trust Kinga yet, but she’d given him no reason to renege on the chance she’d pleaded for.

Brad picked up the last of the balls and tossed it on top of the others. “Nope,” he said, switching the machine off at the wall. “Try and keep moving, though. Jamie will be over later to give you a massage. We need to keep you supple if we’re to maintain this level of practice.”

Cash nodded wearily and trudged off court. At least he didn’t have to travel far—the tennis court was at the back of his own house. Three minutes later, he staggered into his bedroom and flicked on the shower. As the cubicle filled up with steam, he quickly undressed and stepped inside. Jets of hot water cascaded over his body. He leaned his forehead against the cool tile and closed his eyes. Fuck, that felt good. Even though cold water would be better for tired muscles, he craved the heat.

After ten minutes, he was briefly entertaining the thought of getting out when the shower door opened, and a fully naked Natalia slipped inside.

“Hi,” she said quietly, her lips blazing a trail across his shoulders as her arms snaked around his waist.

Exhaustion forgotten, he felt his cock lengthen. He twisted around in her arms and swept wet hair away from her face.

“You’re just the pickup I need,” he said, bending his head to kiss her soft neck. She smelt of peaches, sweet and luscious.

“I thought you’d be exhausted after your practice session.”

“I was.”

“What happened?”

“You turned up,” he said, manoeuvring her against the back wall of the shower, away from the pounding jets.

She shimmied against his growing erection. “You certainly seem happy to see me.”

“Oh, baby,” he groaned, lifting her legs and hooking them around his waist. His hands clasped her deliciously tight backside as he pushed himself inside. “So goddamned happy.”

* * *

Cash rolled over in bed and ran his fingertips up and down Natalia’s arm, knowing he should refrain but, at the same time, wondering whether he had enough energy for round two.

“How was Kinga?”

A flash of something he couldn’t read crossed her face before she hid it behind a bright smile. “We had a good chat.”

Cash frowned. “Something to tell me, sweetness?”

She shook her head. “Just girl talk. You’d be bored.”

“You’re probably right.” He flipped her on her back, and a giggle broke from between her gorgeous lips. He rubbed the tip of his nose down hers and dropped a soft kiss on her mouth. “What do you want to do tomorrow?”

“Can we go riding?” she said, a bright smile lighting up her face. “I haven’t been since… ” She broke off, a frown appearing. “Since we broke up.”

Cash waggled a finger in front of her face. “Oh no, you don’t,” he said, tugging at the corners of her mouth until she giggled. “No more guilt, baby, okay? And yes, we can go riding tomorrow.”

“Great. It’ll be good to get some downtime as I’ve got three articles due back with Pete next week.”

“Just don’t work too hard. I don’t want you getting tired.” With a waggle of his eyebrows, Cash dipped his head and brushed the seam of her lips with his tongue. Like a blossoming flower, she opened her mouth, allowing him access. His kiss was soft at first, then insistent. Writhing seductively against him, she didn’t disappoint.

“Again,” she demanded, her voice low and husky.

Fuck. Could my woman be any more perfect?