Striker. Michelle Betham

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СКАЧАТЬ those years ago, she should know better.

      She shook thoughts of the past out of her head and let her hand hover over the phone as she contemplated ringing Ronnie. Maybe he could talk her out of what she was about to do. Jesus! She was a grown woman, for heaven’s sake! She didn’t need somebody else to tell her whether what she was doing was right or wrong.

      Pulling her hand away from the phone, she went over to the cupboard and pulled out a large wineglass, filling it with the last of the bottle of Rioja that was sitting next to the microwave and taking a long drink. It went to her head almost immediately, which was what she’d hoped it would do. Just a small dose of Dutch courage.

      Checking the large clock on her kitchen wall, she watched the second hand tick round, as if it was in slow motion. She needed some music or something, anything to take away the silence and her mind off what she’d done. Not that she’d done anything yet. She could just be asking him round for a drink, couldn’t she? A harmless drink, that was all. Oh, bollocks, Amber, she thought as she walked into the living room. She could try and convince herself otherwise, but it would be a complete waste of time. Ryan Fisher was coming here for one reason and one reason only, but it was still up to her how far she let things go. She had to remember that.

      Scrolling down the playlists on her iPod, she settled on a classic Janet Jackson album before walking over to the living room window, peering through the wooden blinds and watching the street outside as everything and everybody carried on with their usual daily routine. And then she saw it – the flash Jaguar sports coupé that certainly didn’t belong to anyone on her street, that was for sure. So it could only belong to one other person, couldn’t it?

      She felt her stomach give a large and nausea-inducing flip as she watched him pull up outside her house, climb out of the car and run a hand through his dark hair before walking up the driveway to her front door with the kind of swagger only a man so young, famous and full of attitude could get away with.

      Amber quickly backed away from the window and leaned back against the wall, the sound of the doorbell causing her heart to beat so fast she thought it might burst out of her chest at any second. Oh, Jesus, this was ridiculous! What the hell was she thinking? She was eleven years older than him, this young and volatile footballer with a reputation for excess but a talent that meant he was popular for all the right reasons, as well as all the wrong ones. She shouldn’t be going anywhere near him; it was crazy and stupid, and probably a touch unprofessional, too.

      She closed her eyes as the doorbell rang out again. She’d let him in, and she’d tell him. Decision made. This wasn’t going to happen. She’d let him in, he could stay for a drink, but then he had to go because this wasn’t going to happen. No matter what Ronnie had said or thought, and even if he was right, even if she did fancy him, it didn’t matter. It wasn’t going to happen. It couldn’t. Not after everything she’d been through in the past – she’d be really stupid to go there again, wouldn’t she?

      Opening her eyes, she took a deep breath and walked out into the hall, exhaling quietly one last time before slowly opening the door.

      ‘About time,’ Ryan smiled. ‘You gonna let me in, then?’

      Amber just looked at him for a few seconds, aware only of how incredible he looked in a simple yet undoubtedly obscenely expensive outfit of jeans, white t-shirt and black boots; and with that sexy dark hair and those deep-blue eyes shining out of that handsome face of his, he looked hot. There was no two ways about it. He looked hot, and Amber felt a warm flush spread right through her as she stood aside to let him in, her head spinning again as her heart began overruling her head. Something she hadn’t wanted to happen.

      ‘Go… go through to the living room,’ she managed to say, acutely aware that her voice may have sounded slightly strange there. More high-pitched than it normally did.

      ‘Champagne,’ Ryan grinned, handing her a bottle of something Amber recognised as certainly not the cheap stuff. A bit predictable, maybe, but at least he’d brought something. It proved he had manners, anyhow, even if he probably wasn’t going to be around long enough to actually drink much of it. ‘Predictable, I know, but I didn’t want to turn up empty-handed.’

      Amber looked at him, and suddenly the pair of them just burst out laughing. ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ Amber said. ‘But, yeah. Footballers and flash bottles of champagne are a touch on the stereotypical side, I suppose.’

      Ryan shrugged, sticking his hands in his pockets, and for the briefest of seconds Amber was certain she saw a slight flash of vulnerability cross his face. But that only made him seem all the more attractive, unfortunately.

      ‘You look great, by the way,’ Ryan said quietly, his dark blue eyes locking onto hers. ‘I forgot to tell you that, when you opened the door.’

      Amber felt an uncharacteristic blush heat her cheeks and she looked down at her feet for a second or two, feeling like a shy teenager on a first date instead of the strong, independent woman she was. Or thought she was. It was all a bit confusing, but before she could even begin to get her head around just what was supposed to be happening here, she felt him prise the bottle of champagne out of her hand, place it on the table beside them and gently touch her face with his fingertips. She looked up at him as she asked probably the most obvious question ever. ‘What are you doing?’

      He pulled away slightly, taking a small step back, and she couldn’t stop the stab of disappointment from happening. ‘Amber, I…’

      ‘You couldn’t stand me a couple of days ago,’ she said, aware of the tension building and the fight she was now going to have, to stop the excitement rising up in her.

      ‘You couldn’t stand me, either,’ he replied, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth and Amber couldn’t help but smile back. This wasn’t going quite to plan, although, that all depended on which plan she was talking about – the original plan, or the change of plan. And she wasn’t entirely sure herself.

      ‘No. I couldn’t,’ she said. ‘I thought you were the most arrogant, self-centred, egotistical prick I’d ever set eyes on.’

      He moved a little closer, his hands back in his pockets but his eyes locked onto hers. ‘And I thought you were a cold, uptight bitch.’

      ‘Oh, really?’

      ‘Yeah. Really.’

      He moved closer still, and Amber felt her resolve fading fast, but she was ceasing to care. That glass of red wine she’d had just minutes ago was starting to have an effect, and it felt good. She felt good. So she really didn’t care anymore. He was hot, she felt like having some fun, what was the problem? Well, there was probably a list longer than a ten-mile tailback on the central motorway as far as problems were concerned, but she’d deal with those in the morning. Right now, she wasn’t going to think about them.

      ‘So, I’m cold, am I?’

      ‘A regular fucking ice-queen. But you’re no match for this arrogant prick, sweetheart.’

      Amber couldn’t tear her eyes away from his. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this excited about anything. Sure, she’d had sex with Ronnie only last night, but that was different. That had been nothing but an act carried out only to, temporarily at least, stop her thinking about this man standing here in front of her. No other reason. Compared to what she was feeling now that had been almost mechanical in comparison. A paint-by-numbers act of sexual release. This was something else.

      ‘Oh, I СКАЧАТЬ