PLAYING THE FIELD
PROLOGUE
GRAHAM CALLAHAN
I swirl the bourbon in my glass, watching the amber liquid catch the flicker of candlelight. The restaurant buzzes with conversation, laughter, and the clink of silverware, but none of it touches me. My mother’s voice lingers in my head, her final words pressing against my chest like a weight I can’t shift: "Go, Graham. Live your life."
It should have been simple. But living feels like an insult to her memory right now. Aside from my father, she was my biggest champion and my biggest supporter, and she loved me through everything. She encouraged me to dream bigger, and I’m a better man simply because she was always, always, there. Now she’s gone, and I feel unmoored.
The scrape of a chair across from me cuts through my thoughts. I glance up, half-expecting a waiter or some overeager business associate. Instead, it’s a woman. She’s stunning—long brown hair, green eyes sparkling with curiosity—and she’s sitting at my table uninvited.
“You looked lonely,” she says, her tone somewhere between teasing and matter-of-fact.
I raise an eyebrow, my grip tightening on the glass. “I’m not.”
“You’re drinking bourbon alone in the corner of a swanky restaurant,” she replies, undeterred. “You’re either lonely or trying to win a staring contest with your drink.”
A flicker of amusement tugs at the corner of my mouth, but I push it down. “I’m not in the mood for company.”
“And yet, here I am.” She leans back in her chair, the picture of unbothered confidence. “I’m Anastasia, by the way. But Ana works, too.”
I study her, noting the way her dress hugs her figure, the glint of mischief in her eyes.
“For the sake of speeding this encounter along, care to tell me what you do, Ana? That feels like the next step in this bizarre conversation.”
I don’t really care what she does, but her presence is oddly comforting. Even if I'm being a bit of a dick.
She smirks, and leans forward, resting her arms on the table between us. “I’m a doctor.”
My eyes trace her features. She looks a little young to be a doctor. And certainly a little young to be sitting down at a stranger’s table in a foreign country.
“Doctor, huh? Fresh out of med school?” I guess. My dad would have my balls on a platter if I ever outright asked any woman her age. It’s bad manners.
“Hardly,” Ana laughs. “Is that your way of asking me my age?”
“A gentleman would never do such a thing.”
“And a lady would never tell,” she retorts. I like her wit. It’s refreshing.
“Care to diagnose me, then, Doctor? Being in my mid-40s does come with some issues.”
She grins, humored by my self-deprecating joke. “I could. But my guess is you’d rather I didn’t.”
“Depends. Are you any good?”
“I’m excellent. But you’re clearly not here for medical advice. So what are you here for?”
“Business,” I say shortly, taking a sip of bourbon. I hope that’s the end of it, but Ana tilts her head, her smile sharpening.
“Not much of a talker, are you?”
“Not much of a listener either, apparently.”
She laughs, a soft, melodic sound that warms the space between us. “Touché. So, what are you in the mood for…?”
“Graham. And I'm obviously not a doctor.” I set the glass down, leaning forward slightly. “And I’m not in the mood for food if that’s what you’re asking.”
I let the implication of what I’m saying hang in the air between us, sure she’ll get what I’m trying to say without me having to spell it out.
Her eyes narrow, her smile turning sly. “Subtle.”
“Who said I was trying to be?”
Ana pauses, clearly debating whether to stay. Then she picks up the menu, flipping it open with exaggerated nonchalance. “Fine. You’re not hungry for food, but I am. Let’s see if the kitchen’s as fancy as the decor.”
For the first time all evening, I feel a spark of something other than grief. It’s been a long time since someone pushed back against my walls with such casual ease.
“What’s your deal?” I ask.
She peers at me over the top of the menu. “My deal?”
“You sit at a stranger’s table, throw out lines like you’re auditioning for a rom-com, and act like you belong here. Why?”
Ana sets the menu down, meeting my gaze head-on. “Because you looked like you could use someone who doesn’t care about your grumpy disposition.”
The air between us shifts, her words cutting through the haze in my head. For a moment, I just stare at her, trying to decide if she’s the best thing to happen to me tonight—or the worst.
“Well, Ana,” I say finally, leaning back in my chair, “if you’re going to stay, you’d better make it interesting.”
Her smile widens. “Oh, I intend to. It’s my last night in Cape Town, and I’m feeling…reckless.”
** ** **
We don’t speak as we make our way through the opulent hotel lobby, the air between us buzzing with something electric and unspoken. The click of Ana’s heels against the polished marble floors is sharp, confident, and wildly at odds with the soft floral scent she wears. It’s distracting.
“Lead the way,” she says when the elevator doors glide open. Her voice is low, teasing, but there’s an edge of tension in it, like she’s daring me to call this off.
Instead, I hit the button for my floor and lean against the wall, watching her. The small, secretive smile she gives herself as the elevator ascends is enough to drive me mad. I’m supposed to be grieving, for God’s sake, but she’s a reprieve I can’t bring myself to walk away from.
When the elevator dings, she steps out first, glancing back at me over her shoulder. “You’re awfully quiet. Second thoughts?”
I follow her down the hall, my steps slow and deliberate. “Not even a little. Just wondering what’s going on in that head of yours.”
She stops when we reach my door and turns to face me, her gaze steady, unflinching. “I don’t do this often, just so you know.”
There’s something vulnerable about the way she says it, though she tries to mask it with a raised brow. I slide my key card into the door, pushing it open before stepping closer to her. “Neither do I,” I admit, my voice dropping as I let the truth hang between us. “But there’s a first time for everything.”
Her lips part, but whatever quip she’s about to throw my way vanishes as I close the space between us. My hand cups her jaw, and then I kiss her.
It starts soft, tentative even, like we’re testing the waters. But it doesn’t stay that way for long. Ana leans into me, her fingers fisting the front of my shirt, and I lose what little composure I was clinging to.
I press her back against the doorframe, deepening the kiss, my free hand bracing against the wood beside her head. She tastes like wine and something sweeter I can’t name, and it’s intoxicating.
When I pull back, just enough to catch my breath, her green eyes are stormy, a little wild. “Are you going to let me in, or do you plan to make out in the hallway until the staff kicks us out?”
I smirk and push the door open wider, stepping aside to let her pass. As she walks in, I shrug out of my jacket and toss it onto a nearby chair.
Ana turns to face me, the faintest hint of hesitation flickering across her face. “For the record, this is probably a terrible idea.”
I step closer, reaching for her hand and pulling her gently into me. “Then why haven’t you walked away?”
Her lips quirk upward. “I’m a doctor.” She shrugs. “I like to fix broken things.”
The weight of her words punches me in the chest, but I don’t let it show. Instead, I lean down, capturing her mouth again in a kiss that says everything I can’t.
We lose ourselves after that. Her dress is the first casualty, pooling at her feet as I trail my lips down her neck, and squeeze her bare breasts with my hands. Her nails rake against my shoulders, her breath hitching when my hands move to skim along the curve of her waist. She’s relentless, meeting every touch with one of her own until we’re a mess of tangled limbs and frenzied need.
By the time we make it to the bed, we’re both bare, skin against skin, hearts pounding in unison. I squeeze her breast and suck her hard nipple into my mouth. It earns me the most delicious sigh. She pulls on my hair, and I growl, loving the hint of pain. I lift my gaze and find her eyes on me, cheeks flushed a deep red as her chest rises and falls in an unsteady rhythm.
I switch to her other nipple, her breast full in my palm. She wriggles her hips, and I suck in a breath when the head of my cock slides against her clit.
“You’re wet for me,” I murmur, my voice deep and hoarse. “Is your cunt greedy, Doc?”
Her eyes flare and her throat moves as she swallows. She bites her lip and dips her chin.
“Tell me,” I whisper, moving my hand to her hip. I hover over her, taking in how beautiful she looks with the swathe of light coming in through the window.
“I’m wet for you, Graham.” She licks her lips. “And my cunt is greedy. I want you inside me.”
Jesus. I’ve never particularly cared for dirty talk, but those words falling from Ana’s lips make me wild. She reaches between us and wraps her slender fingers around my shaft before giving my erection a long, firm stroke. I curse under my breath, and lift myself from the bed. Ana frowns in confusion, and I give her a smirk while finding my discarded jeans on the floor.
“Condom.”
While having a one-night stand wasn’t on the schedule for this trip, I’m rarely unprepared. I’m not the type to play the field—my parents were happily married for over fifty years and I’ve always wanted that for myself—but something about this feels…destined to be. Like somehow I was meant to meet this woman. Strange. But the truth of it settles in my bones.
I climb back on the bed and settle between Ana’s parted thighs, pressing my mouth to hers in a feverish kiss. She presses the head of my cock through her slick folds and cants her hips until I'm sliding into her body, inch by inch. A groan works its way up my throat, and I catch Ana’s whimper when I’m inside her to the hilt.
“Fuck,” she exhales into my mouth, her breath coming out stilted. Her nails bite into my shoulders, and the thought of her marking me makes me move faster. Her fingers trail down my spine, and when she settles her hands on my ass, I drive my hips forward. It’s not slow or sweet—it’s desperate, the kind of collision that burns too brightly to last but leaves a mark that lingers long after.
She squeezes my cock and arches her neck, seeking my lips. I deepen our kiss until I’m breathless. The sound filling the hotel room is feral, the air thick with tension, sex, and the need for release.
Ana pulls her mouth from mine and looks up at me. “I’m close.” She swallows audibly. “Graham…”
I move her arms above her head and grip her wrists. She wraps those slender legs around my waist and the change in angle makes my blood run hotter. I sink into her and roll my hips, the fire at the base of my spine consuming me. Ana’s mouth falls open but no sound comes out while she shivers beneath me. My body locks up and I press my sweaty forehead to Ana’s. In that moment, the rest of the world disappears and all that’s left is…us.
I can’t think past one night.
Because for some inexplicable reason, it doesn’t feel like it’s enough.
Not when she’s already burrowed her way under my skin.
