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lies going? Honestly, she would never see him again after Sunday, so what did it really matter? Even though he’d annoyed her a few minutes ago, he’d made her laugh last night. She hadn’t laughed in a hell of a long time. If she told the truth, he might back away. Or he might feel like he had the right to dig in to her own reasons for being here.
    Neither of those options was acceptable to her. She’d been at this resort a couple of days and had spoken to almost no one apart from the staff. She’d eaten alone, surrounded by kissy-kissy couples and families. She’d gone on excursions—diving around a couple of sunken boats, exploring the cloud forest in the nearby national park—but people seemed uncomfortable around her, as if being a single woman on holiday by herself might be terminal and they didn’t know what to say to comfort her.
    “No, I don’t watch much sport.” Liar , liar pants on fire. She was no die-hard supporter. She and her father did, however, have season tickets to London Legends, so she’d seen Liam play live at least a dozen times every season for the last five years. Plus the fifty-odd times he’d been capped for England, games she’d watched from the comfort of her couch. That didn’t count as being a die-hard supporter, right?
    “What would you say is your favorite sport?”
    “If you held a gun to my head, I’d have to say football.” That, at least, was true. You really would have to put a gun to her head to make her say such a thing. The choice between football and rugby said so much about where a person had grown up and in what circumstances. She’d been raised in a lovely house in North London. Her parents had post-graduate degrees and made it clear that university was not a choice. It was simply expected—as was a career where she exercised her brain. Not to sound too snobby about it, but she preferred rugby crowds to football crowds and avoided pubs when big football matches were on.
    “Football? Really?” His voice was tinged with distaste. “Who do you support?”
    “I grew up in Islington. Who do you think?” One of the nation’s biggest clubs played within walking distance from her parents’ front door. Another reason she grew up disliking the sport. Mornings after matches, she used to have to hose the vomit off the pavement out front. “How about you?”
    “Me? Oh, I’m a Liverpool supporter.”
    “Really?”
    “Yeah. Big, big football supporter. Love it. Can’t get enough.”
    She hid her smile by biting her lower lip. “Well then. Something we have in common.”
    “Yep.” Finally he faced her again. “I’m sorry about earlier. I don’t know exactly what I said to offend you, but I wasn’t making a comment on your body.”
    Surprise stiffened her spine. “What do you mean?”
    “I can’t even remember what I said, but you took it the wrong way...or maybe I said it the wrong way. Either way, I wasn’t trying to say that you’re...lacking in some way. You’re not.”
    Blood rushed through her, bringing tingles of sensation to every bit of her body. “I’m not lacking. Thank you.”
    “Shit. It wasn’t an insult.”
    “I didn’t take it as one. I mean it. Thank you.”
    He jerked his head in a nod. “Anyway, I ordered room service a while ago. It’s probably there now. I might’ve been a bit greedy when I ordered, so I wondered if you would join me, help me do it justice.”
    “That would be great. I’ve worked up an appetite, what with all this reading and sunbathing. It’s exhausting, you know.”
    “I don’t, actually. Can’t imagine anything more boring than lying around baking myself. I’ve been too lazy today. Need to get out and do something tomorrow. Any suggestions?”
    “The spa didn’t tempt you?”
    He grimaced. “I’m not really interested in sitting in a hot tub with a bunch of strangers and wondering if any of them are farting and passing it off as bubbles.”
    She burst out laughing as she stood and shook out