Prologue

LILY

‘I t’s Donaghue taking it all the way to the touchdown!’ roars the announcer.

Oh my God, I don’t believe it. Tate has just scored in like the fifty-ninth minute. On the sidelines, the whole cheerleading squad is going crazy. I’m jumping up and down, screaming my head off. The noise is so wild I only just hear the final whistle.

The Radley Rangers have just won the college football championship for the first time in the college’s history. It’s a huge moment for the whole team: the players, coaches, everyone behind the scenes– and, of course, for the girlfriends and cheerleaders. It’s been a long, hard-fought season, but all that is forgotten in the golden glory of victory.

On the field, the players peel off their helmets, grinning like lunatics. Tate catches my eye and blows me a kiss. My heart flips at the sight of his ever-boyish grin and those sparkling blue eyes. All I can do is grin back at him– all gorgeous six-foot-four inches of him– happiness fizzing in every vein, drinking in the sight of all that toned muscle, the tousled hair and the sheer joy on his beautiful, chiselled face. He heads my way, where I’m celebrating with the other cheerleaders, being slapped on the back by his nearest team-mates. But he’s like a heat-seeking missile locked on me. I meet him halfway and jump into his arms. Hot, sweaty and still breathing hard, he scoops me up and kisses me, hot mouth and hungry tongue and I kiss him right back. It’s the sort of kiss that should come with a health warning. Christ, I’m horny as hell.

‘Fuck, Lily,’ he murmurs into my mouth. ‘I could do you right now.’ His hands clasp my bottom, his fingers straying just a little close to the edge of my tiny shorts. ‘Tell me you’re wet for me.’

I nip his ear and squeeze my thighs harder around his waist. ‘What do you think?’

‘I think if I get a hard on out here, the scouts are gonna notice.’

I laugh. ‘I’m sure they’ve noticed you, period. You’re bound to get picked for the draft now.’

He kisses me again. ‘Nothing’s certain yet.’

He’s so modest. He’s one of the best ball players on the team and, hell yeah, I’m biased but everyone knows he’s a real talent and that fame and fortune are going to come knocking in the next few months. He’s worked hard to achieve everything he’s been dreaming of for the last nine years. I’m so happy for him. This might just be the happiest day of my life, even though, when he is drafted, we won’t get to spend as much time together.

Fuck off, negative-thought weasels . Nothing is going to spoil today’s party, especially not tonight.

Tate and I have been holding off having sex. It sounds crazy, as we’ve done everything but. It’s just we both wanted to wait. Plus, it was super-hot, enjoying the build-up. He’s made me come in plenty of inventive ways and I know exactly how taking him down my throat makes him moan– but tonight we agreed would be the night .

‘Congratulations, babe.’ I nip his lip as I slide down his body. ‘Tonight, you get a hero’s welcome, with all the trimmings.’

Coming up behind him, Coach Silverman puts an arm on his shoulder, prying us apart with a crooked smile. ‘I need to borrow the big guy, Lily. You can have him back later.’

‘Congratulations, Coach.’ I smile at him. He’s tough, fair and nothing like the grizzled old coaches you always see on TV and in films. Mark Silverman, with his dark hair greying at the temples and his shark-lawyer, three-piece suits, lives up to his name. A silver fox, he could easily model sweaters for one of those hot older-men catalogues.

‘Thanks, Lily. We’ve got press interviews, and there’s a scout from the Giants who wants to talk to you, Tate.’

My eyes go to Tate’s. The Giants. That’s his dream team. Although the way the draft works it’s not always a given he’ll get picked, this season they’ve got pick number six, so there’s a very good chance.

Tate leans down and kisses me again. ‘See you later, babe.’

I’m mesmerised by his very fine ass in those tight football pants, which show off every sculpted muscle. He looks over his shoulder at me and shoots me a smile that sends a torpedo of heat right between my thighs. I swear there’s suddenly an extra swagger in his stride. I let out a breath, trying to ease the flush heating my body. It’s always been like this, since the day I first laid eyes on Tate. I can’t wait to get up close and very naked with him later. It’s been a long time coming.

* * *

For the next few hours, it’s a circus. Every time I get near Tate, he’s whisked off to speak to someone new, but it’s fine because I’m with my friends from the cheerleading squad, Becky and Angel. They’re both a bit glassy-eyed, as much with alcohol as with happiness.

‘We did it,’ says Becky, toasting the air with her plastic cup. We’re all still in our cheerleading kits, which, despite it being January, are only marginally bigger than bikinis. ‘We really did it.’

She looks around, catches the eye of one of the team and puffs out her chest. She’s lucky. Despite all the training and being dead skinny, she still sports a 32DD.

‘Put it away,’ says Angel, rolling her eyes.

‘You’re just jealous,’ challenges Becky, laughing.

‘No, that’s li’l 32A cup, here,’ says Angel with a laugh, nodding at me.

I pat my flattish chest complacently. ‘At least they don’t get in the way.’ I’m the tallest on the team, but also the skinniest.

‘Do you think anyone noticed I was a beat out?’ Becky is a worrier.

‘No one noticed,’ Angel reassures her. ‘And your toe touch jumps were spot on. You know they’re gonna give you a place on the team next year. Quit worrying. You’ve got this.’

‘I’ve gotta get through the audition first.’

‘You will,’ I say, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. All three of us are here on cheerleading scholarships but there’s no guarantee we’ll get a place on the team next year. Personally, I don’t care that much. Cheerleading was a means to an end to get here, but it’s not something I’ll be continuing with when I finish college next year. Both Angel and Becky want to work their way up and join one of the big football teams’ cheerleading squads. They have a clear plan. Me… I have no clue now. I’ve been living in the States for the last six years. I came out to school here while my dad worked for the UN and I stayed on. Dad is expecting me back next year, but things change. I’d like to stay. With Tate. We haven’t talked about the future but sometimes you just know that you’re meant to be together. That’s us. I’ve never felt like this before. Like I couldn’t breathe if he wasn’t with me. Like a light is turned on inside me every time I see him. And I see that same emotion in his eyes, too. That moment of wonder, where neither of us can quite believe we found each other.

My cell phone rings and I expect it’s someone wanting me to congratulate the team on their behalf. It’s not. It’s Alice, my dad’s housekeeper. I frown and move to the edge of the room where it is a bit quieter.

‘Hey Alice.’ Is she ringing to remind me it’s Dad’s birthday next week? Or just for a catch-up? I haven’t spoken to her for a few weeks.

‘Lily… Oh, Lily…’ Her breath catches on a sob.

Something cold grips my heart, squeezing it with icy, spiteful fingers. I gasp at the chilly sensation, focusing on the sudden pain.

‘Dad? Is it Dad?’ It can’t be. For his age he is almost superhuman. You’ve never seen a fifty-year-old in better shape. Unless there’s been an accident. He’s all I have. Mum died when I was a baby.

‘Lily, sweetheart. I’m sorry. He’s had a heart attack. He’s in the hospital. You need to come home.’

* * *

It’s amazing how quickly you can organise yourself in an emergency. Within minutes, I’ve booked a flight to London Heathrow out of Boston Logan and arranged a cab to take me to the city. All I need now is to go back to my hotel room, grab my passport and some clothes and speak to Tate. I hate to spoil his evening, not that it really will. He’s going to be on a high for days. Besides, he’ll get it. He understands my dad is all I’ve got in the way of family, just like his dad is for him. We share that in common. Both our mothers left us, mine dying when I was a toddler and Tate’s leaving when he was a teenager. The lack of a maternal relationship in our lives doesn’t bother either of us, though, not when we’ve got our dads.

I’ve got everything packed in a small holdall. Now I just have to find Tate and explain what’s going on. I’ll be back in a couple of weeks if not before. My dad’s the last person you’d expect to have a heart attack. I mean he’s not just super fit, he’s literally bombproof. He was in the SAS– Special Forces– when he was younger, and I’m pretty sure he’s done plenty of secret-squirrel stuff covered by the Official Secrets Act, although he’s never breathed a word. But as they say, sometimes actions are louder than words. Since the age of five, he’s been teaching me self-defence and survival skills to prepare myself for any eventuality. Honestly, my childhood was far from ordinary. I can stitch up a gash, shoot a can out of a tree at fifty paces, hold intelligent conversation with royalty, handle a bow and arrow and grace a catwalk. To date, these skills have not served me particularly well in college, but then my dad comes from a very long line of eccentric Englishmen, thirteen of them to be precise, as he’s the fourteenth Duke of Landsfforde, not that I tell people about that here in the States. I get enough attention because of my British accent.

I return to the celebrations, anxiety pulling tight at my shoulders as I scan the bar. I don’t want to leave but I need to get home to my dad. Tate might even insist on coming to the airport with me, but I won’t let him. This is his party. His triumph. I’ll share it with him as soon as I get back.

I can’t see him anywhere, which is unusual because my Donaghue antennae are always primed to his wavelength, and vice versa. It’s a joke between us that we can always find each other in a crowded room.

‘Hey, Andy. Have you seen Tate recently?’

Andy, one of his teammates, pauses mid-swig of his beer. ‘Yeah, two minutes ago with his dad. I think they were headed down to the locker room. Frank probably wants to get a selfie with him down there.’

‘That’s cute,’ I say. I bet Tate’s dad is thrilled with the win. He’s so proud of his son. I’ve only met him a couple of times, but it’s obvious he thinks Tate is a champion and is going to go all the way.

I hurry along the corridor, which, after the crowded football field, is virtually silent, and the further I travel down into the bowels of the building, the more muted the celebrations become. My dance shoes barely make a sound on the concrete floor and I occasionally glance back, a little creeped out by the dim light and the feeling of being alone.

I breathe a sigh of relief and smile at myself for being so silly when I hear Tate’s familiar voice.

‘I know, Dad. But the draft?—’

I pause for a second, wondering if I should interrupt.

‘You,’ Frank’s tone is sharp and uncompromising, ‘have gotta be showing them you’re serious about your career.’ He spits out his words like machine-gun bullets. Fast and furious. ‘Training hard. Committing yourself one hundred per cent to the game. This is where it gets real.’

I’ve heard him say similar things before, although perhaps not quite so vehemently. Frank is nothing if not committed to Tate’s career, which is great, but sometimes I think he’s a little bit too invested– not that I’d dream of ever saying so to Tate. He adores his dad, who has apparently made a lot of sacrifices over the years, including giving up a lucrative executive job so that he could make sure Tate got to all his training sessions, selling their house and downsizing to ensure that Tate went to the best school.

‘Sorry, son, but you have to give her up.’

I frown. Who does Tate have to give up? His car that he endearingly calls, Hermione, because it needs magic to keep it on the road? His favourite massage therapist?

‘I know.’ Tate’s sigh is so heavy, I can almost picture his despondent face. ‘You’ve been telling me for a while. But we won today. I don’t need to make any decisions until the draft in April.’

‘Tate, you’re just dragging things out. And what happens when you get picked in the draft? You two could be at opposite ends of the country. Sure, Lily’s a real nice girl, but she’s going back to England one day.’

I freeze. Me? They’re talking about me. That’s not possible. Tate and I love each other. We’re a team. I don’t hold him back. I lift him up. He’s told me so.

‘But not yet,’ says Tate and he sounds a little desperate.

Tears prick my eyes and I smile. He loves me and I love him.

‘Just give me until the draft. It’s only a few months. Then I’ll finish things. Surely, I’m allowed to have a little fun between now and then. It’s not like it’s serious or anything.’

His nonchalant words hit me like hailstones: sharp, hard and icy. My stomach feels as if it’s been hollowed out with a spoon. I want to bend double and wrap my arms around my waist to hold the pain in. Tate’s going to finish with me. I never saw this coming. It never even occurred to me. We love each other. I was so sure he felt the same about me…

A little fun. That’s what I am. A stopgap until his real life begins.

Now I’m standing here feeling like the world’s biggest idiot.

The pain in my stomach starts to grow, pushing out and out and out. I can barely contain it. Tears are running down my cheeks.

Frank speaks again. ‘I don’t know, son. Now’s the time to show them you’re still putting the hard yards in. You’re young, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. Don’t throw it away on some girl. Women don’t get it. They want to settle down, have kids. They want all of you. A ball player, especially at the beginning of his career, needs to keep his edge.’

‘I know, Dad…’ Tate carries on talking but his words are now muffled as if he’s moved to a different part of the room.

I’ve heard enough. My hand is over my mouth as I try to decide what to do. Do I slink away and pretend I haven’t heard? Do I march in and confront them both? That’s my preferred option. My dad taught me to stand up for myself. He taught me that I can rely on no one but myself. He taught me independence.

Dad.

Fuck Tate. I’m not going in there. Not now. I need to get away. Regroup. I can’t do this now. I back away down the corridor, fearful that they might come out of the locker room at any moment.

I have a plane to catch.