Striker (10 page)

‘I came to see
you
,’ Ryan said, fixing her with a stare that may just have ever-so-slightly dented her steely exterior. ‘You busy tonight?’

Amber sat down on the edge of her desk, looking briefly out of the window at the view of the city centre, the traffic down below streaming past the building, letting her know that rush-hour was almost upon them. ‘I’ve got work to do,’ Amber lied. She had absolutely nothing to do; she was finished for the day but, once again, he didn’t need to know that.

He sat forward, clasping his hands between his open knees, his eyes still boring into hers. ‘Can we cut the crap, Amber?’

She stared back at him, those deep-blue eyes of his making her feel quite dizzy. ‘I… What do you mean?’

‘You
know
what I mean. Don’t you?’

She swallowed hard, a tingling in her thighs that she should not be feeling at 4:15 in the afternoon sending warning signals to her brain that she really shouldn’t be thinking about doing what she was doubtless going to end up doing but, what the hell. Ronnie was right on another score – maybe she
did
need to let her hair down more often. So, yeah, she knew what he meant. And even though it went against everything she’d ever stood for, broke every self-enforced rule she’d ever set herself, she wanted to see what was going to happen next. If she let it. Because she could still stop it, if she wanted to. But she
didn’t
want to. That was the problem.

Ryan smiled, a smile that sent a shiver right through Amber’s body, that tingle in her thighs only increasing with every second his eyes were on hers. ‘I’m giving you the chance to welcome me back to the North East in a way nobody else could ever do.’

‘You’re giving me the
chance
?’ Amber asked, half laughing at his never-ending arrogance. ‘You’ll be telling me it’s a one-time-only offer next.’

Ryan sat back, shrugging, and Amber laughed again, throwing her head back yet knowing full well that she was going to grab this chance with both hands in an act of total recklessness that was so beyond anything she’d ever done before – well, maybe not in a long time, anyway.

‘There are two reasons why I shouldn’t go anywhere near you,’ she said, sliding down from the desk, leaning over to write something down on a post-it note. As she wrote, she deliberately stuck out her bum, arching her back downwards, completely aware that she was flirting outrageously now, but not because Kevin had told her to. It was because she wanted to. Probably just to see if she still could.

Standing up straight she smiled at Ryan, quite flattered by the flustered look he sported, even though it was obvious he was trying to look cool. Okay. So she
could
still do it. ‘Reason number one – you’re a lot younger than me, and two – you’re a footballer.’ She handed him the piece of paper, his fingers quickly brushing against hers as he took it from her, an action which sent a wave of something almost electric shooting right through her. ‘Anytime after seven-thirty. Now get out of my chair. I’ve got work to do.’

Chapter Five

Ryan felt like he’d just scored the winning goal in a cup final. Sticking the yellow post-it note to the dashboard of his black Jaguar XK coupe he entered the post code into his Sat Nav, waiting a few seconds until it finally plotted the route to what he hoped was going to be a very successful night. He knew he should really be taking it easy; he should be leaving the fun until after Saturday’s match,
that
would be the sensible thing to do. But Amber Sullivan was something else. She was also the kind of woman that was almost guaranteed to change her mind if you left her hanging on for too long so he wasn’t going to play games. She wasn’t one of those ten-a-penny pretty girls; she was different, a distraction he hadn’t banked on, but one he couldn’t ignore.

Switching the radio to a rock station he turned up the volume and headed out onto the motorway, barely able to keep the smile off his face. Was he going to be the one that made this ice-cold sports reporter break her own rules? That in itself was enough to turn him on, but the thought of what lay beneath the surface of a woman who was quite fascinating, to say the least, made everything just that little bit more exciting. And the one thing Ryan Fisher couldn’t live without was excitement. It was something that had probably got him into a lot of trouble in the past, and maybe he should be listening to the warning shots that were ringing out now, telling him to back off and lay low, play it cool, settle down. But he couldn’t do it. He just couldn’t do it. That would be like rolling over and admitting defeat, and anyway, who’s to say that what had happened in
London
would happen here? He knew the pitfalls now. He’d promised Max he’d left all that behind, and he had. But that didn’t mean to say he had to stop having fun altogether. Jesus, he was only human.

Shaking those thoughts from his head he knocked the radio’s volume up another notch and began tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as The Killers’ ‘
Somebody Told Me
’ blasted out. Max had assured him that moving back home had been the right thing to do, and Ryan believed him. It was time for a fresh start, a new beginning, but none of that meant he had to start living like a monk. He just had to be careful, that was all. He was still hot property in the football world, and nobody could take that away from him. Nobody.

*

Amber wondered if she’d done the right thing. Or had she just made the biggest mistake of her life, inviting Ryan Fisher into her home? Had she just taken the first step towards losing her so carefully kept-intact dignity just because she’d developed some silly little crush on a handsome footballer? Had she really allowed her head to be turned by Ryan Fisher and his hard-working charm offensive? After all, how many good-looking footballers had she been around in all her years as a sports reporter? Loads of them. And yet, she’d never allowed herself to feel this way about any of them, despite a fair few of them trying to gain her attention, without much success. And surely, after what had happened all 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 wine glass, filling it with the last of the bottle of Rioja that was sitting next to the microwave, 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 play lists on her iPod she settled on a classic Janet Jackson album before walking over to the living room window, peering through the wooden blinds, watching the street outside as everything and everybody carried on with their usual daily routine. And then she saw it – the flash Jaguar sports coupe 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 over-ruling 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.