Striker (53 page)

Amber took a silent deep breath. ‘You’re not family, though. Are you?’

‘As good as, honey.’

She continued to stare at him. ‘Are you going to make this difficult for me and Ryan? Because that really isn’t fair, Jim.’

‘I love you, Amber. Yet you’re with him.
That’s
not fair.’

She wanted to say something, to make him understand that things could never be the way he wanted them to be but he’d walked off before she’d had a chance to even open her mouth. Great. Lunch tomorrow was going to be fun, and she really didn’t need the stress of having Jim there. It was a difficult enough job trying to get her father onside as far as Ryan was concerned without the added pressure of Jim. It was a situation fraught with tension, with three out of four people knowing a secret the other really couldn’t find out about. Just one tiny thing had the potential to light a touch-paper that could really make things difficult, and Amber didn’t want to think about the consequences that could arise from that. Maybe she was worrying unnecessarily, or maybe she really did have cause for concern. Who knew? She’d just have to wait and see, wouldn’t she?

‘Did Jim tell you he’s joining us for lunch tomorrow?’ Freddie Sullivan smiled as he arrived at his daughter’s side. ‘I saw you talking to him just then.’

She looked at her father, trying to return the smile he was giving her. ‘Erm, yeah. Yeah, he did.’

‘Are you two getting on alright?’ Freddie frowned, shoving his hands in his pockets.

‘Why… why wouldn’t we be?’ Amber asked, quickly checking her phone, noticing a new text from Ryan had arrived.

‘I dunno, pet,’ Freddie shrugged. ‘He says he hasn’t seen an awful lot of you since he came back up here, that’s all. He feels like you’re almost avoiding him.’

Jim Allen had seen more of her than most people so he was lying there, but she couldn’t really tell her dad that, could she? Sliding her phone back into her pocket she looked at her father again. ‘Why would he see a lot of me anyway, Dad? And I’m not avoiding him, why the hell would I avoid him?’

Freddie shrugged again. ‘I have no idea, Amber. You tell me.’

‘I’m not avoiding him. I’m just busy, that’s all. And I’m sure he’s got much better things to do than talk to me. We were never that close anyway, were we? Not really. He’s more your friend than mine.’

Freddie fell into step beside Amber as she pushed open the double doors that led out of the main atrium and down to the Press and Players Lounges. ‘You were only young back then, I suppose. You had your own life… Listen, sweetheart, you don’t
mind
me inviting him tomorrow, do you? Only, he
is
one of my oldest friends, and for some strange reason he’s still without a girlfriend since he arrived back up north, which surprises me, considering what a handsome bastard he is. Had the women falling at his feet when he was a player here…’

Amber looked at her dad, not really in the mood to discuss Jim Allen’s playboy past – a past that involved
her
far more than it should have done. ‘Look, I’ve got to go and… y’know, catch up with some people in the Press Lounge, make sure I’m all ready for the match.’

‘Of course. You go ahead, sweetheart. I’ll pop into the Players Lounge for a bit. There’re bound to be some old faces in there I haven’t seen in a while.’ He kissed her quickly on the cheek. ‘I’ll see you after the game?’

She nodded, smiling what she hoped was a more convincing smile. ‘Yeah.’

She watched him walk into the Players Lounge, and she was just about to push open the door to the Press Lounge directly opposite when someone grabbed her arm and pulled her round the corner.

‘What the…? Ryan! What the hell are you doing? You’re supposed to be in the dressing room, they’re gonna kill you…’

He shut her up with a kiss and she just melted against him, leaning back against the wall as his hands rested on her hips, his mouth soft yet strong as it moved against hers. She hadn’t seen him since yesterday morning, hadn’t spoken to him for all those hours and this was something she’d missed. The kisses. She missed them when he wasn’t around.

‘You have got to get back to the dressing room, Ryan.’

He looked at her, those dark eyes of his staring deep into hers. ‘Jesus. You’re beautiful.’

‘Shut up,’ she laughed. ‘Mind you, you
do
look incredibly sexy in that football kit. It’s verging on a major turn-on, mister.’

He grinned, sliding a hand down the front of her jeans, kissing the side of her neck, making her groan out loud.

‘Come on, Ryan, this isn’t fair. You’ve got to get back…’

He grabbed her hand again, dragging her into an empty side room, locking the door from the inside.

‘Ryan… what are you doing? If they…’

‘If they, what? If they find me having sex before a big match they’re gonna drop me?’

‘They might,’ she pointed out, already wanting him in her and sod the consequences. Despite the fact it was the last thing that should be happening. ‘If they catch us.’

He grinned again, pulling her closer, unzipping her jeans as he kissed her slowly, his tongue touching the roof of her mouth, running along the back of her teeth, sending her whole body into spasms of unexpected pleasure. The danger of being caught, the fact they really shouldn’t be doing this, it only made everything ten times more exciting.

‘No-one’s gonna catch us, babe,’ he said, sliding her jeans down, his fingers pulling at her panties. ‘Relax.’

How could she do anything else when he was about to send her on a flying visit to heaven? Even the sound of voices outside in the corridor, the constant noise of footsteps walking backwards and forwards was both a distraction and a turn-on. But the biggest turn-on was the fact he was going to make love to her wearing his full football kit. Jesus, she’d actually dreamt about this, and now it was happening.
 

‘Ryan…’

His mouth covered hers, silencing her with another deep kiss as he pushed his way into her, hard and fast,
the
kisses matching the intensity as they fucked each other to within an inch of their lives in record quick time. It took just a few beautiful minutes for him to reach his own goal, and a second or two more for Amber to reach hers. Then it was over. Done.
 

‘You are in so much trouble if they find out,’ Amber breathed, sliding an arm round the back of his neck, running her fingers along his rough, bearded jaw line, her eyes watching their every move as she tried to catch her breath.

‘They won’t find out,’ he smirked, pulling her jeans back up for her, his mouth so close to hers as he spoke. ‘And I’m certainly not gonna tell them.’

‘You’d better have enough energy left for this match.’ She started playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, staring into his eyes, wishing they could stay there, just the two of them. Wishing they could shut the rest of the world out. This falling in love lark was hard work, having to fight those needy feelings that wouldn’t seem to lie low, having to let him go when she really didn’t want to. ‘I love you, Ryan Fisher.’

‘Hey, I love you, too, beautiful. I love you, too.’

She closed her eyes as he kissed her again, sliding her hand up under his football strip, touching his warm skin, which was a mistake, because the second she did that she felt that familiar stomach flip and a desperate need to have him again, but this time she pulled back. Stopped herself from getting him into any more trouble.

‘You’re not doing this just to piss Jim off, are you?’ Amber asked, zipping her jeans back up.

‘Now, why would I do that, huh?’ Ryan grinned, running a hand through his hair.

She couldn’t help smiling, pulling him back for one last kiss, pushing herself against him even though she’d promised herself she’d behave, let him get out of there before somebody found them. ‘You
know
why.’

He grinned, slipping a hand up under her top and grabbing a quick feel before pulling away, opening the door and backing out of it, mouthing something incredibly rude at her as he finally left her alone.

Amber smiled a smile she felt as though she’d been waiting to smile for over a decade now. Ryan Fisher had well and truly got to her. And for that, she really was quite grateful.

*

Nobody had any idea of Ryan’s forbidden warm-up routine. Nobody had any idea what he’d done just half an hour before kick-off, because he’d played the game of his life that afternoon. His energy levels had been up there, the adrenalin rush he’d got from fucking Amber in that side room had kicked in big time, leaving him raring to get out there and show his old team mates that he’d lost none of the talent he’d shown when he’d played with them. He’d been on the kind of form most clubs and their managers could only dream of, scoring two goals within ten minutes of each other in the first twenty-five minutes of the game, sending the Red Star supporters into a frenzy, raising expectations that their star striker was on a roll. And he was.
 

With another two goals in the second half – one in the dying minutes of the game – Ryan Fisher had bagged himself a hat-trick plus one, and another ‘Man of the Match’ Award. He was fucking flying! By the time the final whistle came he was higher than any drug had ever made him, punching the air and yelling his delight at the home fans, sharing their excitement. Jesus! Life couldn’t get any frigging better for him right now. He was playing like he’d never played before, he felt the fittest he’d been in ages, and he was in love. Shit! Who’d have thought? Ryan Fisher – in love.

‘You did good out there,’ Jim said, patting Ryan on the shoulder as he walked towards the tunnel, the sound of the crowd still deafening, drowning out the voice over the tannoy issuing instructions to the away fans to stay put. ‘Well done.’

Ryan looked at his manager. Yeah, he looked as though he really meant that. Professional to the end, that was Jim Allen. Despite that one lapse near the beginning of the season – and Ryan totally understood why that had happened now – he hadn’t done a thing to hamper Ryan’s career at Red Star. Even if he
had
threatened to. ‘Thanks, boss.’

Jim put a hand on his arm, stopping him from walking away. ‘But pull another stunt like the one you did before this game, son, and I’ll drop you faster than you can blink. You got that?’

Ryan stared at him, narrowing his eyes. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’

‘I can forgive
her
because, for some reason, she’s acting like a love-sick puppy that can’t bear to leave your side but I know Amber, and she’ll grow out of that. You, on the other hand, should know better. There are rules, Ryan. There are rules, and you either play by them or we find a way to make sure you have no other choice.’

‘What the…’

‘You get your kicks
after
the match, Fisher. Do you hear me?’

Ryan shook his arm free and continued walking towards the tunnel, a smile slowly spreading across his face. So, Jim Allen
had
known about the secret sex in the side room. Ryan had a feeling it wouldn’t have escaped his notice; he let nothing get past him, and Ryan knew that. Did he honestly think he didn’t know how closely Jim was watching him? Of course he bloody knew!
 

As he walked down the tunnel crowds of people flocked around him, throwing questions at him, none of which he could make out through the cacophony of voices surrounding him. He had the post-match interviews to do, and then he had every intention of going out to celebrate – but not without Amber. Ryan was one half of a couple now, and he liked the feeling that gave him. He liked the security, the safeness. He liked the fact she was always there. Everything he’d steered clear of before he now craved. How life could turn around in an instant.

As he pushed through the double doors at the start of the tunnel that led back into the ground, he was guided to the tiny corner of the corridor where the post-match interviews took place, craning his neck to see if he could see Amber. He had no idea if she was doing the interviews for News North East; he hadn’t even thought to ask her when he’d seen her earlier. He’d had other things on his mind. But, as he caught sight of her across the corridor, leaning back against the wall, her arms folded, he couldn’t help but smile, a smile that only got wider as she mouthed
‘Well done, baby’.
All that mattered was that she was proud of him. All that mattered was that she trusted him, that she loved him. All that mattered was that she loved him. If he had that, he knew he could cope with anything.

‘Wait ‘til last,’
he mouthed back, wanting to get everyone else out of the way before he spoke to her. He wanted her to be the last person he saw before he went back into the dressing room. He needed that to happen.

She nodded that she’d got the message and Ryan continued on with the various post-match interviews they had lined up, all of them short and basically asking him much the same thing, but all the time he was just waiting for Amber to take her turn. Which she eventually did. Last in line, just as he’d wanted her to be.

He waited until she’d asked him the usual stuff, and he talked about the game, the four goals he’d scored, how it felt to be playing such a big part in helping his boyhood-supported team have a chance of winning that league title. But, as soon as she’d thanked him for talking to News North East, he stopped her from walking away by gently taking her hand, asking if the cameras could stay rolling for a second. He pushed a hand through his dark hair and looked at her. The nerves were kicking in now, but he’d wanted to do this from the second he’d woken up that morning. He’d opened his eyes in that hotel room, in a bed on his own, and he’d known – he’d just known – that he had to do this.