Page 7 of The Player

Her life for the last ten years since her mum absconded when Liza was eighteen, leaving nine-year-old Cindy in her care, had been about weighing decisions carefully to see how they would affect her younger sister.

Everything revolved around Cindy, and while Liza never begrudged her sis anything, knowing tonight would be the last time she’d have to put on her fake face had lifted a weight from her shoulders.

Liza could be herself from now on and Mr Martini had been in the right place at the right time. More than that, he’d intrigued her, and she couldn’t say that about many men.

She’d watched him morph from uptight and judgemental to cool and a little goofy, with a hint of underlying sexiness that made her long-neglected hormones sit up and howl.

When was the last time she had sex? Probably not since Jimmy, because while Henri had paid for her arm-candy status for a year, she wouldn’t go that far as part of their deal.

And if she couldn’t remember the last time, it meant it had probably been during the good period with Jimmy, which hadn’t been the last year of their relationship. The year he’d progressively withdrawn, establishing emotional distance before the final break.

Her mum had done the same over the years. In both cases, their abandonment hadn’t come as any great surprise but had hurt all the same.

But tonight wasn’t the time to dwell on her issues.

Tonight was perfect for something else entirely.

She did a quick mental calculation. Could it really have been four years since she’d been with a guy? Maybe that explained her irrational urge to push the limits with Mr Martini. He’d be ideal for a celebratory fling, a little fun on a night when she felt like dancing down Swanston Street with her arms in the air.

Not that she’d had a one-night stand before, but the way she was feeling right now—edgy, dangerous, a little outrageous—it could very well be a first tonight.

He stalked toward her, his ebony suit highlighting lean legs, broad shoulders, impressive chest, and she squirmed a little.

What would it be like to explore beneath that suit? To feel the warmth of a man’s skin next to hers? To lose herself in the heat of passion? To assuage the yearning to experience pleasure?

Cindy was her world and Liza never regretted assuming responsibility for full-time care, but it was at times like this she wished for something she’d never have: a guy to come home to, a guy to warm her bed, a guy who wouldn’t abandon her when the going got tough.

‘You must really have a hankering for a martini,’ he said, taking a seat next to her, far too close as a few synapses zinged with the need to touch him.

‘Why?’

‘Because you have an odd look on your face, like you want it real bad.’

Uh-oh. He could see her desperation? Not good.

‘I’m thirsty,’ she blurted, wishing the waitress would hurry up and deliver their damn drinks so she wouldn’t have to stare into his knowing dark eyes.

‘And I’m curious,’ he said.

That made two of them. She was curious as to why she’d agreed to this and why the hell she wanted him to help celebrate her freedom tonight.

‘How could two intelligent people like us, about to having a scintillating conversation, still be strangers?’

‘I can rectify that.’ She stuck out her hand. ‘Liza Lithgow.’

‘Wade Urquart. Pleased to meet you.’

As his palm touched hers and his fingers curled around her hand, Liza could’ve sworn every sane reason why she shouldn’t indulge in a night of incredible sex with this guy melted away.

‘Your name sounds familiar.’ He released her hand after lingering too long. She wasn’t complaining.

‘I’m hoping the next words out of your mouth aren’t, “Haven’t we met some place before?”’

He laughed. ‘No need for glib lines. You’re here, aren’t you?’

‘True.’

And with the dim lighting, the smooth jazz spilling softly from discreet speakers, and a gorgeous guy eyeing her speculatively, she was right where she wanted to be.

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