Page 17 of Once Upon A Player
Don’t I know it. The parties I used to go to with Geoff were glittery, but Lucas lives in the A-list. At least when Geoff and I split up, it wasn’t splashed across all the gutter press.
“Seriously, there’s no chance I’ll ever go out with him.” Obviously, I haven’t shared the fact he asked me out the first day we met. She was so sick that day, and then the moment passed. Besides, she’d only stress about it. “Once he’s back on the bench, I’ll never see him again.”
During the last couple of weeks, Mum’s hired another cleaner and told me she and her partner/best friend Joy are going to ease back on the actualdoingand concentrate more on theexpanding.
Thank goodness for that. Dad and I both think she took on way too much when she set up the business, what with her health issues, but she was determined to do it. At least now she won’t need to lug heavy equipment around as much.
When I reach his floor, Lucas is standing by the open door to his penthouse, and my stupid stomach goes into freefall.Please don’t let me glow.
He’s wearing an open-necked shirt and shorts, and although I know they’re by top designers and cost the earth, he could wear a black rubbish bag and still be irresistible.
And that’s my professional opinion, is it?
Yes, it is. I’m not going to let the inconvenient fact that I fancy the pants off him interfere with my professional integrity.
So. There.
…
Lucas
Violet smiles, and I forget that I’ve been pacing the floor for the last fifteen minutes and wink at her in what I hope is a friend-zone way. She’s wearing a cute white sundress, and her red hair falls over the shoulders of her distressed denim jacket, and she’s the sexiest girl I’ve ever seen. Yeah, so much for the friend-zoning.
When she reaches my side, she doesn’t walk straight inside the penthouse. She pauses and looks up at me, and I shove my hands into my pockets before I screw up our friendship by sliding my fingers through hers.
Seems like I spend half the time we’re together with my bloody hands in my pockets.
“Hi.” Her voice is soft and breathy and doesn’t help with the wholefriends onlything at all. “Sorry I’m late. I overslept.”
“Big night, huh?” I follow her into the hall and push the door shut behind me. Her bare legs are tanned and perfectly toned, and I imagine them wrapped around me, complete with those sexy high-heeled, open-toe sandals.
I swallow my groan and thrust the vision to the back of my mind.Don’t go there.
“Just clubbing with the girls.” She strolls across the hall toward the sitting room, while a weird burning sensation eats through my chest. What thefuck? It’s no big deal if she went clubbing last night. None of my business.
Did she spend the night with some strange guy?
This is fucking nuts. I haven’t even kissed Violet, and I’m consumed by the idea she might’ve hooked up last night. I never care about stuff like that. At least, I never have before.
“Oh, wow.” She turns at the door to the sitting room and gives me another of those gorgeous smiles that haunt my dreams.
Carter, you need to get laid.
“You’ve been busy.”
And she’s talking business. She always talks business. It doesn’t matter how many bloody sparks fly between us, she’s never gonna act on them.
It’s got nothing to do with her not being ready to move on yet. It’s because I’m a footballer, like her ex.
The irony isn’t lost on me.
I join her and survey the room where I’ve tried to integrate some of my stuff with the show home furnishings. “It’s just a temporary fix. You do your thing, that’ll be great.”
She admires the few antique pieces that Dad gave me on my twenty-first, part of the collection of Queen Anne furniture that Mum inherited from her grandparents’ ages ago, and which I haven’t yet shifted to a permanent spot. He gave Harry some, too, although the wingback chairs always looked more at home in his Grade II listed apartment than my rented flats.
“This is beautiful.” There’s a thread of awe in her voice as she kneels and runs her fingertips over the faded material of the ottoman. “And in such good condition.”
“Not meant for a high traffic area.” I glance at the rug, which is now hanging on the far wall. “I’ve always kept the chair and ottoman in my bedroom.”
