ANNA STEPPED ONTO the gangplank that led from the jumbo jet to the arrivals hall at Heathrow airport.
It bounced slightly as she walked, making her feel off balance. And wasn’t that the truth. She hadn’t spoken to Nick since the day of her father’s funeral.
She didn’t know if she was doing the right thing, but as her mother had pointed out, there was only one way to know for sure.
So, she’d bought an open-ended return ticket to London. She didn’t know how long she’d be staying.
Waiting in line at Immigration, she glanced across at a newspaper stand on the other side of the row of booths.
Nick’s Heart to Heart: Rugby Player Shows Soft Side
She knew it must be about him, but she wondered what the headline referred to. The Immigration Officer did a double-take when he saw the name on her passport, checked her paperwork and studied her face intently, but he didn’t hold her up or cause any delay.
Anna rushed over to buy the newspaper. As she read the story of his TV interview, her eyes filled with tears. No one had ever been so candid about the way they felt about her. It was humbling and a little scary. But hopeful. She felt hope for the first time in so long.
The journey to Nick’s house took 45 minutes and Anna watched the dawn break, a thin, watery sun beginning to rise. But as the taxi drove along Nick’s road, she still had no idea what she’d say.
She struggled out with her suitcase and handed a shockingly large number of bills to the cab driver. Then, taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door.
After half a minute, she heard some muffled cursing and the door was yanked open by a bad-tempered 6’ 5” Samoan with a hangover.
“What?”
“Hi, Fetuao. How are you?”
He blinked, then a huge smile spread across his face.
“Anna Scott! Malō! You’re here! Nick is gonna split his shorts!”
“Um, great?”
He grinned widely and pulled her into a hug.
“The boy’s been pining for you.” He drew back, his face serious. “It was a bad thing they did to you. We’re all behind you—and our boy.”
“Thank you. That means a lot to me.”
“Sure. Come on in. Did you see any paps out there?”
Anna looked horrified.
“No! But I wasn’t really looking.”
Fetuao shrugged and shook his head.
“Been coming and going ever since . . .”
He shrugged again, picked up her enormous suitcase with one hand and led her inside.
“You been here before?”
“No.”
“Huh. Well, Nick’s upstairs, second on the left. He had a late night.”
Fetuao stowed her suitcase by the door and abandoned her at the bottom of the stairs while he shuffled into the kitchen. From the back, he looked even more rumpled, and Anna smiled. He was one of the good guys.
The house was quiet, although it was nearly nine o’clock. She heard Fetuao turn on the radio, singing along to something. Down the corridor, she could hear snoring.
Steeling herself, she knocked softly on the second door on the left.
Then she heard Nick’s sleepy, grumpy voice.
“Fuck off, Fetu.”
Smiling to herself, she pushed the door open—and nearly got hit by a flying pillow.
“What part of fuck off didn’t you understand?!”
“Um, it’s Anna.”
She risked opening the door a couple of inches again and saw the duvet slip off Nick’s shoulder as he sat up in bed. Stunned, she stared at the new tattoo that covered the other half of his chest, a phoenix spreading its wings.
“Anna?” He stared at her and she took a tentative step inside. “Shit, Anna!”
“Hi, Nick,” she said shyly, unable to meet his gaze.
The room was messy with clothes scattered over every flat surface, but the walls were bare. A photograph of him with his parents and sister was displayed on his dresser, but that was the only personal thing in the room.
Then she spied his guitar, half-hidden with a t-shirt hanging from the neck. He’d never brought it to her apartment; she’d like to hear him play that one day.
He cleared his throat and her gaze snapped back to his intense eyes.
“Will you play for me?”
“What, now?”
“Please. I’ve always wanted to hear you play.”
Nick rubbed the stubble on his cheeks, a faint pink staining the skin.
“Okay. Um, what do you want to hear?”
“Anything. Anything you want to play me.”
Nick picked up the guitar tentatively and began to sing softly.
Shivers ran through Anna, and when she heard the lyrics, her breath caught and tears started in her eyes.
His voice stayed low and intimate, and when he finished, it was several seconds before he met her gaze.
“The woman in the song has sad, grey eyes?”
He shrugged sheepishly.
“It’s one of my dad’s favourites. He played it all the time when we were kids. Yeah, Girl with Grey Eyes.”
“Who’s it by?”
“A Scottish band, ‘Big Country’.”
“It’s beautiful. Thank you for playing it for me.”
He glanced up to meet Anna’s eyes, silvery-grey in the dawn light.
“I watched the match against Ireland. I heard what you said. Was it a message for me? Did you mean it?”
An uncertain smile lifted his lips.
“I didn’t know how else to tell you. I was desperate. I didn’t care if I came over like a dickhead. I just . . . I needed you to know how I felt. I needed you to hear me.”
Anna nodded her head slowly.
“It was the most wonderful thing anyone has ever done for me. Ever. And I love you so damn much.”
His mouth dropped open and then he lunged across the room, grabbing her and pulling her against his body in a hug, unembarrassed by his magnificent, naked body.
Anna’s skin flushed as they clung together, her hands gliding over his smooth, golden skin. There was just so much of him, so warm, so male.
“I can’t believe you’re really here,” he murmured into her hair, his soft lips brushing against the skin of her neck, his beard tickling her. “Are you staying? This time, are you staying?”
She pulled back so she could see his eyes, those glorious hazel-green eyes, the longing in his expression.
“If you want me. Yes, I’m back. I don’t know what I’ll do or where I’ll go . . .”
“Doesn’t matter,” he said quickly. “Just . . . don’t leave me again.”
She laughed as tears sprang to her eyes.
“You really mean it? I’ve brought you nothing but trouble!”
He shook his head vehemently, his eyes flaring.
“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“Better than beating Ireland in your first international?” she teased.
“Yep, almost as good as that,” he grinned, sitting back on the bed and pulling her with him.
He stopped abruptly.
“Are you allowed to be here? You’re not going to get into trouble, are you?”
Anna touched a finger to his lips.
“The police decided that there’s no case to answer. I’m a free woman.”
Nick kissed the tip of her finger then rested his forehead against hers.
“Thank God,” he said. “Thank God.”
Then he kissed her: deeply, reverently, joyfully. And as she rested her hand on his bare chest, she could feel his pulse pounding wildly beneath the silky skin. Her fingers drifted across the breadth of his chest, following the intricate lines of ink.
“This is new, the tattoo.”
“It’s a phoenix.”
“I see that. It’s beautiful.”
Half of Nick thought he was still dreaming. He’d woken up hearing her voice and he’d seen her and held her and the world started spinning his way again, but it didn’t seem real. It didn’t seem possible that after all this time she’d come back.
When she hadn’t got in touch after the Ireland match, the little spark of hope he’d had was extinguished. But now . . .
He kissed her again, savouring every second, every brush of her tongue against his, every time their teeth clashed in a messy, unplanned, unpredictable kiss. And that fucking tongue stud—it was so hot. He remembered vividly the way she’d dragged it across his simmering flesh, driving him to distraction.
He was in a hurry to claim her, but wanted to make it last, too. His brain warred with his body, but it was Anna who slowed him down.
“We have forever, but if we didn’t, what would you do?”
“I’d kiss you in the daylight.”
Anna laughed in surprise.
“What?”
“All the time we were together, we had to hide. I don’t want to hide anymore. I want everyone to know.”
Anna’s smile slipped.
“With all the pictures out there, I’m pretty certain people know,” she said sadly.
Nick grabbed her wrists and brought her hands to his lips.
“No! They just know the rubbish the papers printed. It was a soap opera to them, nothing real. But it’s my life and your life, and I want it to be our life. So I want to kiss you in daylight. I want to walk with you in a park. I want to take you out for dinner and not care who sees us. Fuck the lot of them! It’s no one else’s business. I’m not ashamed of us, are you?”
Anna smiled softly.
“For a man of few words, you sure do know how to say all the right things.”
She pulled away from him and walked to the window, pulling back the curtains and letting the cool, grey, London sun paint the walls with a faint glow.
Then she turned to face him.
“I don’t care who’s watching. Kiss me!”
Laughing, defiant, tumbling onto the sheets, they kissed and held each other, bare skin sliding together as Anna’s flesh turned rosy and a flush coloured Nick’s tanned cheeks.
He undressed her slowly, worshipping her body, exploring the flesh he’d been without too long, relishing every moan and sigh, the silk of her skin under his rough fingers.
Then he paused, his fingers tangling in the delicate necklace, the gold chain with a rugby ball pendant.
“You’re still wearing it?”
“Yes. I’ve never taken it off.”
His arms trembled as the muscles bunched when he braced himself over her, and his eyes closed when he pressed inside her. Anna sighed and moaned, arching her back to meet him, wrapping her long legs around him, her nails scoring thin red lines down his back and buttocks.
He groaned as he felt his balls tighten and it was too soon, but Anna wasn’t holding back either. She bit his ear and licked his throat, then swore as he pressed her into the mattress with his hips, kissed her breasts as they bounced with his thrusts, his head buried in her neck.
God, she’d missed this, his urgency, this intimacy, this reckless abandon of self to become them, to become more than she and him. A union, a joining, a coming together in heat and lust and need. And love. With him there was always love.
Anna gasped, flying and falling as Nick drove inside her harder and deeper, finishing with a shudder, a profanity, and a long moan of pleasure as he finally let himself go.
Breathless and gasping, they lay in a sweaty tangle, pale sunlight dancing across flushed and heated skin.
Nick held her hand and kissed the knuckles gently.
“I’m better with you here. You make it all worthwhile.”
Anna slept, falling into a wonderful, dream-filled sleep, relief and exhaustion pulling her under.
As Anna slept, Nick watched her, his eyes absorbing every curve, every angle, every breath in her body.
It still felt dreamlike that she was here, that she’d come back. The only way he knew it was real was because happiness soared in his heart. He felt whole, he felt complete. But it felt fragile, as if it could break again at any moment, as if what they had could still be taken away from them.
Nick thought about what they’d already been through: his injury, his court case, her arrest, her father’s death, losing the job she loved. Anna had lost so much already and he’d regained everything, even her.
But what if it all went away again? It could, easily. If he got injured, something that put him out of the game for good, would they go on as a couple? Could they?
How could they make a living? What would they do? Where would they live?
But as he watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest, his fears fell away.
They’d find their path. The world had taught them some harsh lessons, but they’d survived.
Nick smiled grimly to himself, his expression defiant.
She’d made him stronger, now he would be strong for her.
“Have you got a dress in your suitcase?”
Anna raised her eyebrows at Nick’s odd question.
“I have a few, but I don’t think they’re your size.”
Before she knew what was happening, she was on her back with Nick pinning her to the bed and tickling the hell out of her.
She resisted as long as she could but had to give in.
“Uncle!” she yelled, red faced, tears running down her cheeks.
“Uncle who?” asked Nick, pausing in his tickling.
“It means I give in!” Anna gasped.
Nick flopped down beside her.
“Oh, right. That’s okay then.”
When she’d gotten her breath back, she turned on her side to look at him.
“Why were you asking about a dress?”
Nick scratched his beard as his forehead wrinkled.
“I’ve got this fundraiser thing to go to tonight. I want you to come with me.”
Anna was cautious. She wanted to say yes, but maybe it was too soon. What was the protocol for announcing to the world that they were together when they’d spent so long forced to stay apart?
She pursed her lips. One way to find out, and now seemed as good a time as any.
“Who’s it for?”
“A children’s charity,” he answered, then met her eyes. “It’s something the Phoenixes do every year. Jason says it should be fun.”
“Will Sim Andrews be there?”
Nick nodded.
“Maybe it’s not a good idea that I go.”
“I think it’s a great idea,” Nick argued, rolling onto his side and propping his head on his hand.
Anna took a deep breath.
“Okay, but we don’t blindside him again. We should tell him first.”
“Fine by me.”
Nick looked handsome in his tux, but Anna didn’t feel quite as pulled together as she’d liked to have been, bearing in mind she’d only had a few hours’ notice and this was their first public appearance together. But after the initial flurry of interest as they’d arrived on the red carpet, it had been reassuringly low key.
Her simple silk sheath dress needed to be ironed quickly but it draped elegantly as she walked. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much she could do about the bags under her eyes, despite an industrial application of concealer.
Nick had phoned Sim Andrews to break the news. It had been a short but positive conversation. Since the police weren’t charging Anna, Sim’s views towards her had thawed somewhat, and the Phoenixes’ Head Coach made it a point to come over and kiss her on the cheek. He told her how proud he was that two of his team were playing for England, and that Fetuao was also playing for his national side. Nothing important was said, but the fact that he was speaking to her at all gave her a warm glow. And when he offered his condolences for the loss of her father, it was heartfelt.
After an hour, Nick had been called away for the charity’s Press photographs and Anna found herself by the buffet table.
“Boring, isn’t it?” smiled the woman standing next to her.
“Trying to decide whether or not to chance the shrimp?”
The woman laughed.
“Ah, that’s definitely not boring, that’s risky. Who knows how long it’s been sitting here under the hot lights. My advice: avoid!”
Anna smiled. “Thank you for the tip!”
The woman held out her hand.
“I’m Isabel Buxton. I’m a senior producer on ‘Loose Women’.”
The way she said it, Anna suspected that she ought to know what that was.
Isabel raised her eyebrows expectantly.
“I’m sorry, I’m not familiar with that. I haven’t been in the UK very long,” she hedged.
Isabel chuckled but didn’t seem offended.
“I’ll let you off then. It’s a TV panel show, by women, for women, about women. We have four female presenters, and we discuss everything from current affairs and daily politics, women’s issues, viewers’ concerns, as well as some celebrity gossip. We’re on during the week at lunch time and we’ve been going since 1999. We’re just coming up to 2,500 shows,” she said proudly.
Anna was on her guard.
“I know, I know,” Isabel sighed, correctly reading her expression. “You’ve been the subject of a media witch hunt and you probably don’t want anything to do with journalists.”
Anna gripped her glass of warm champagne more tightly.
“No ‘probably’ about it.”
Isabel nodded.
“Fair enough. But I’m assuming that coming here with Nick tonight was a statement of sorts?”
It hadn’t been planned, but it definitely seemed to be working out that way. She didn’t say anything out loud. Now she knew who Isabel worked for, she was even more cautious.
“But wouldn’t you like a chance to put your side of the story? It would be on live TV, so no editors. You could tell your story your way.”
Isabel held out a rectangle of cardboard.
“This is my business card. We’re doing a show on social media manipulation in a few weeks. I think you’d make a great guest.”
She pressed the card into Anna’s hand.
“You’ve been a victim of the media—wouldn’t you like the chance to steer that ship for a change? At least think about it . . . and stay away from the shrimp.”
“How did you know I’d be here tonight?”
“I didn’t,” Isabel said with a wink. “I’m just a shameless opportunist. But it’s one way not to be a victim anymore.”
Anna had to admire Isabel’s chutzpah as she watched her walk away. Then she felt Nick’s warm hands slide around her waist as he nuzzled her neck, the soft skin beneath her earlobe. It seemed to be one of his favourite places.
“Who was that?”
“Friend or foe . . . I’m not sure. She’s a TV producer. She wants me to go on a show named ‘Loose Women’ and talk about my side of the story, as she calls it.”
“My mum watches that,” Nick said.
“Really?”
“Yeah, she said there’s some good stuff on there.”
Anna was thoughtful.
“What are you going to tell your parents . . . about us?”
Nick frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, won’t they be worried now that I’m back?”
Nick grinned at her.
“Nah. Mum told me that once I’d stopped arseing about, you’d come home. Dad does what Mum tells him. They like you Anna. They’ll be happy for us. Don’t worry about it.”
“Well . . . okay. And Trisha?”
He gazed at her seriously.
“She told me to do the interview that was on last night. She said I was trying to be too clever by quoting your mantra and I should do something more obvious.”
“No, I was already on my way, but I really want to watch that interview.”
“Make sure you tell her that for me,” he grinned. “She’s a know-all pain in my arse. She’ll hate it that she was wrong.”
“You want me to tell her that, too?”
“Bloody hell! Not if you want me to live. But since you brought it up, what did you tell your mum when you came back?”
Anna smiled and squeezed Nick’s waist.
“It was more her telling me. She told me to hurry back to my ‘young man’ and stop wasting time.”
“I like the sound of your mum.”
“Yes, she’d really like you, too. I’m sorry that I didn’t introduce you at Dad’s funeral . . .”
“It was a tough time.”
“It was. But I never thanked you for coming. It meant a lot to me.”
Gently, he held her fingers in his hand and looked down.
“You said you wished you’d never met me. It sounded like you meant it.”
Anna glanced away, her lips trembling.
“It was a shitty thing to say and you didn’t deserve that. I’m really sorry. I blamed myself for Dad’s death, the strain I’d put him under. It was a cruel thing to say to you. I honestly didn’t mean it.”
Nick’s eyes widened in understanding.
“You think the stress about us . . . you think that . . . that did it?”
She hesitated.
“Maybe, yes; maybe, no. No, not really. It didn’t help. But he’d been on pills for high blood pressure for years, but he wouldn’t do anything about improving his diet. Mom was always nagging him, but he wouldn’t listen. Galloping Gary Scott—no one could stop him when he wanted something.” She sighed. “I wish you could have met him.”
“Me, too.”
There was a pause as the all too frequent tears formed in Anna’s eyes and Nick squeezed her hand again.
“Mom says she’ll come visit soon.”
“Yeah? That would be brilliant. Maybe she could come for one of my matches.” He gave her a side-long glance. “I’ve been picked to play for England against South Africa next month.”
Anna’s expression brightened immediately.
“Oh my God! That’s amazing!”
He kissed her softly.
“Nah. It’s more amazing that you came home.”