Page 2 of Once Upon A Player
I think he is.
“You need a hand with anything?”
If anyone else asked that, it’d sound completely innocent. Coming from Lucas, it totally doesn’t.
I’m so overreacting.Pull yourself together.Forget about his rep, he’s just being polite.
I almost convince myself, but then he gives another of his devastating smiles, and my charitable thought crumbles.
Polite? Yeah, right. Hesooooisn’t.My face tightens, and I lock-down my hormones. I’ve spent far too much time with dickhead players who think they exist to be worshipped.
And I’m not going to fall for it again.
…
Lucas
Who the hell is she?I don’t remember her from last night, when some of the guys turned up with a group of girls I’d never met before. I might have a mother of all hangovers, but there’s no way I’d forget her face. Especially with that red hair tumbling down from her topknot, or whatever it’s called.
Since she appears frozen in place, I halt this side of the table and give her one of my charm-infused smiles. At least, that’s what my good mate Yolanda calls them, but my hangover must be worse than I thought, since this chickrecoils.
Well, fuck. Unfortunately, it does nothing for my hard-on. Heat roars through me. Although I don’t usually care if that part of my anatomy does its thing when meeting a hot girl, that’s because the attraction is generally mutual. Why didn’t I drag on a pair of shorts?
I didn’t think anyone was here.Except for Yolanda, but she’s like a sister to me.
“Thank you,” she says, all formal, as though we’re having a conversation at some high-profile charity ball. “But I’ll pass.”
It takes a second for her comment to penetrate the thud in my brain, and a snort of laughter escapes. I don’t even remember the last time a girl threw one of my not-so-subtle offers to get to know each other better back in my face.
“Fair enough.” Since my dick refuses to get the message that there’s not gonna be any early morning delight with this gorgeous redhead, I rest my arm across the top rail of one of the chairs in a deliberately casual manner. I hope she can’t see anything below waist level. “Were you making coffee?”
I can’t think of any reason why she was by the kitchen just now unless she was looking for something to drink. And although I really want to know which lucky bastard brought her here, I don’t want her to know I can’t remember who she turned up with.
“No, I wasn’t.” Her tone is so painfully polite it grates my eardrums. It’s almost as though she’s being nice because she has to, not because she means it.Yeah, sure she is, Carter.I really need to find some painkillers before my head explodes. “I was just clearing up the empties.”
Wait.What? “You don’t need to do that.” Why was she doing that? I glance over my shoulder and take in the state of the room. What thefuck? Why didn’t I notice the mess as soon as I walked in? “Ah, shit.”
My mind’s a blur from the point we finished eating and I crashed into bed, but the guys could’ve dumped their crap before they all fucked off to the nightclub.
I swing back, and she hasn’t moved. The chicks hanging off my teammates’ arms last night were all dressed to kill. And while the redhead is killing me with her worn jeans and the tight T-shirt that’s showing a glimpse of her midriff, there’s no way she was in the group the guys picked up last night before gate-crashing here.
Not unless she brought a change of clothes with her. Possible, I guess. Although, if she bailed on the nightclub to sleep here instead, the big question iswhy? It obviously isn’t because she wants to get inside my boxers.
Shame, that.
“Don’t worry,” she says with that same polite voice and another smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, which are green and fringed with curling black lashes, and now that I’ve noticed them, I can’t stop staring. “I’ve got this all under control.”
I wish I could say the same.Despite the fact I spend half of my professional life, and a good portion of my private one, with most of my gear off, right now I’d give a great deal to be wearing at least a pair of shorts. I can’t stand behind this chair forever but as soon as I move she’ll see my erection, which in spite of my mental demands, refuses to diminish. For some reason I don’t want her thinking I’m led by my dick.
“Great.” What the fuck’s that supposed to mean? I rake my hand through my hair and admit defeat. “Sorry. What did you say your name was again?”
She inches around the table, never taking her eyes from me, as though she expects me to pounce like a panther.Shut the fuck up, Carter.Unless she’s playing a really elaborate game, she’s not here to seduce me, so I can stop with the sex-play images.
“I didn’t say.” She’s standing by the pillar now, her thumbs tucked into her pockets, and she’s close enough that I can see freckles splashed across her nose and cheeks. Damn, she’s cute. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, but even the residual ache from my knee doesn’t lift my mind from the gutter.
“No, you didn’t. I’m Lucas, who are you?” I grin, since this isthemost insane conversation, and I’ve never had to work so hard in my life just to find out a girl’s name.
She chews the inside of her lip, as though she’s debating whether or not to honor me with her name, and I choke out a cough to hide my laugh.
