Page 58 of The Player

He had no idea if she’d show.

She hadn’t answered his call so he’d left a message about meeting him here. Her terse response an hour later didn’t bode well.

Will think about it

He didn’t want to bug her so hadn’t responded to her text, but he’d turned up at the hotel bar where they’d first met anyway, hoping she’d take a chance.

If there was one thing he was sure of in this mess, it was her love.

She hadn’t said the words. He hadn’t either, considering she’d been too busy busting his balls and throwing his offer back in his face. But he’d seen it in her eyes: the adoration, the tenderness, the agony at the thought of never being together.

He felt the same way, processing a gamut of emotions ranging from devastation to optimism. No more. He might be trusting gut instinct right now but he’d applied logic to make it happen.

Every contingency plan had been put into place.

Now all he needed was for Liza to say yes.

He nursed his whiskey, swirling it around, instantly transported back to the night they’d met, the night they’d shared a drink here, the night that had set him down this rocky road.

For a guy who never let emotions get in the way of anything, he’d sure botched this, big time.

He took a swig of his drink and glanced at his watch. Nine p.m. and Liza was a no-show. He’d give her ten minutes and then he was out of here.

As pain lanced his heart, he thought, Who are you trying to kid?

He’d probably end up sitting here all night if there was the remotest possibility she’d walk in the door.

As if his wish had been granted, he saw Liza enter, lock eyes with him, and pause. She looked stunning, from the top of her glossy blonde hair piled in a loose up-do to her shimmery turquoise dress to her sparkly silver-sequinned sandals. Guys in the bar gawked and he wanted to flatten them all.

He stood as she made her way toward him, torn between wanting to vault tables to get to her and sit on his hands to stop from grabbing her the moment she got within reach. The nearer she got, the harder his gut twisted until he could barely stand.

‘Hey.’ She hesitated when she reached him, then kissed him on the cheek before taking a seat opposite.

‘Thanks for coming.’ He sounded like a doofus but he sat, relieved she made it. ‘I didn’t think you’d show.’

She held her thumb and forefinger an inch apart. ‘I was this close to not coming.’

‘Why the change of heart?’

She glanced away, gnawing on her bottom lip, before reluctantly meeting his gaze. ‘Because you deserved better than the way I treated you the last time we parted.’

‘Fair enough.’

He liked that about her, her bluntness. She might not have been completely honest with him the last few months, but her ability to call a spade a spade when it counted meant a lot. He hoped she’d continue in that vein for the rest of the evening, because he’d settle for nothing less than the truth.

‘Drink?’

‘Anything but a martini,’ she said, managing a wan smile.

‘Sure? Because I like what happens when you drink martinis.’

The sparkle in her eyes gave him hope. ‘Soda and lemon for now.’

‘Spoilsport,’ he said, placing the order with a nearby waiter before swivelling back to face her.

‘I was going to call you,’ she said, her hands twisting in her lap before she slid them under her handbag. ‘I wanted to apologise for the craziness after you asked me to move to London.’

‘Not necessary—’

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