Holy double crap. He’d slept with Julia Kingsley.
“She blew out her shoulder in the race that earned her the last gold.” Tiffany pointed to Noah’s left, and he glanced toward where Annabelle and Linc were chatting with reps from Monster. “Annabelle was her teammate. When Julia couldn’t swim in the last event, she pushed Annabelle to do it even though butterfly wasn’t her best stroke. Annabelle had always played second fiddle to Julia, getting silver when Julia got gold. But without Julia in the race, Annabelle got her first gold, which netted her several million dollars in endorsements.” Tiffany glanced over Noah’s shoulder again to where he knew Julia stood across the club. “Ironic, really. When Annabelle was raking in the cash from endorsements, Julia was getting bled dry by that POS boyfriend of hers.”
Finn’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not talking about… Holy shit. She’s the chick who was dating some older European guy, all savvy and full of himself. A diver, wasn’t he?”Bai
“Yep. Duncan Ashford,” Tiffany said. “Douche bag had her so wrapped, she agreed to joint bank accounts. When her shoulder blew, he stole everything she had, then picked up the next hottest new athlete, who also happened to be a former swimsuit model, and bailed on Julia for greener—or in this case, golder—pastures.”
“Are you sure we’re talking about the same woman?” Noah turned, found her chatting with a prominent sportscaster from ESPN. “The Julia I’m talking about is standing with—”
“Kevin Dowling of ESPN,” Tiffany said. “That’s Julia Bailey-Kingsley.” Tiffany’s gaze turned on the front doors. “And speaking of the devil who dragged her down… Told you he’d show.”
Noah’s head was spinning, his stomach shredded. “Who? What?”
“Phillips just walked in. Damn, I wish I’d made a real bet on that.”
Noah’s gaze swung toward the main doors, where a man walked in, dressed in a tux, his tie hanging loose around his neck. Now that his memory had been nudged, Noah remembered Phillips’s stats claimed him as part-Hispanic, part-Samoan. And he looked it at six and a half feet of bulk. Alarm tingled through Noah’s belly, and he glanced over at Julia again, who seemed oblivious to this turn of events. Events he wasn’t one hundred percent sure would be a problem. Even if the situation did turn bad between Phillips and Julia, Noah had no certainty that the story Tiffany had told was true.
“Excuse me,” Noah said. “I’m going to get a new drink.”
He needed room to think. To figure all this out. To understand why she’d kept it all from him. He understood these weren’t crowning achievements she would have wanted to brag about, but he thought they’d built a friendship. He thought there was trust between them. Hell, he’d told her about his white-trash family and his dyslexia. Half his closest friends didn’t know that shit.
At the bar, he requested a refill on his tonic water and lime, then tapped out another text: Come keep this lonely boy company at the bar.
But the sportscaster introduced Julia to another man, then drifted toward a different bar, one of the many in the club. She glanced at her phone, then over at Noah, at the exact moment Stella Dominic slid onto a barstool next to him. Goddammit all to hell.
He ignored Stella’s direct stare and tapped out another message; Wow. I couldn’t have timed that worse if I’d tried.
She read the message, grinned, but didn’t look at him again. She started chatting with the guy, who looked intently interested in Julia—hell, who wouldn’t be? He was clean-cut, midforties, nondescript brown hair, glasses. Probably with a sponsor company, because the guy had an ordinary build and wore khakis and a blazer.
“Don’t you look edible?” Stella said, then ordered a glass of burgundy from the bartender.
“Thanks. You look great too.” She wore the standard short black dress, but her body made the ordinary look spectacular. Tits the size of cantaloupes, junk in the trunk, and a small waist, she was curvy, curvy, curvy.
But all that interested Noah anymore was sliding against Julia’s toned, perfectly proportioned, tight little body.
“I came with Dalton Kennedy, but he’s being a royal ass tonight,” she said, her voice like smoke. “Tracy and I would love to hook up with you after this thing runs i
ts course.”
An offer for a threesome with two of the hottest women roaming this joint?
“Thanks,” he said, “but I’m tied up tonight.”
She picked up her wine, stepped close, and ran a provocative hand across his shoulder and down his arm. “Suit yourself. You know how to find me if you change your mind.”
She walked away, clearing his view of Julia. But there was no Julia.
Panic surfaced, and his gaze scanned for Phillips, who was holding court closer to the entrance, with no Julia in sight. He relaxed and searched again. She’d moved to a seating area and was giving the ordinary guy her rapt attention while he explained something that looked relatively serious. Her brow was furrowed, and she was leaning forward, as was he.
Noah typed: That looks serious. And sent the text.
Julia didn’t even glance at her phone. Dammit.
The guy looked like a brainiac. Was probably some crazy computer wizard at one of the startups like Guru or a big sponsor like Epic who was talking about technical things, complicated things. Things that challenged and inspired her. Things that Julia could relate to because she was so damned smart.
And then there was Noah, who’d barely made it out of high school. All he and Julia talked about were fitness, food, sports… He couldn’t even talk about sex with her anymore. Frustration boiled higher. Was she simply way out of his league? Was that why she’d fucked him when she’d never planned to see him again, then put the brakes on when that spark had potential?
God, his mind was spiraling out of control. But the animated way she’d gotten into this intense conversation with the guy Noah didn’t know was grating on him. Then the guy pulled a card and pen from his pocket, scribbled something, and handed it to her. Julia was smiling and nodding, and goddamned sonofabitch, if she’d accepted a date with that guy, Noah was going to implode.