Striker

Michelle Betham

A division of HarperCollinsPublishers

www.harpercollins.co.uk

Contents

Michelle Betham

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Acknowledgements

About HarperImpulse

Copyright

About the Publisher

Michelle Betham

I’m an ex-media technician turned rock-music-loving author of hot, sexy romance and chick lit with a kick! My love of books began the second I could read, and some of my happiest memories are of me curled up in bed as a child devouring every Malory Towers and Famous Five book I could get my hands on. As the years progressed I read everything from horror to Harry Potter, Jackie Collins to Jilly Cooper, but I always knew that I wanted to write romance. I love the idea of escapism – of creating a world in which readers can lose themselves, and characters they’ll want to spend time with. And thanks to inspiration from the aforementioned Ms. Collins, I always knew that I wanted to write romance of the more racy variety, and to be able to do that every day is a dream come true for me.

After a spell living on the beautiful Canarian island of Tenerife, I’m now back in the UK and settled in County Durham with my wonderful husband and my gorgeous West Highland Terrier, Archie. A proud Geordie girl, I adore the north east of England, but I also love the odd glass of wine, Keanu Reeves, a decent TV drama, Peter Kay… and darts!

You can follow me on Twitter @michellebetham, find me on Facebook www.facebook.com/AuthorMichelleBetham or chat to me on my blog http://michellebethamwriter.blogspot.co.uk/.

This book is dedicated to all those people who've believed in me, supported me, and encouraged me when I've needed that push. You all know who you are, and I can't thank you enough. I got there - eventually!

To my amazing publisher HarperImpulse for making my dream come true.

And to all the footballers out there - you gave me a lot of inspiration … but this one's for the WAGs!

Chapter One

‘Jesus! I’m home,’ Ryan sighed, pulling open the blinds of his hotel room to reveal a miserable, grey drizzle falling steadily from a gunmetal-grey August sky, the familiar sight of the Tyne Bridge looming large in the distance, reminding Ryan that he was, indeed, back home.

Downing a mouthful of coffee as he watched the morning rush-hour traffic cross that famous North East landmark, he felt a tinge of unfamiliar apprehension as he thought about what was to come. When people realised all the rumours were true they’d be expecting something akin to the return of the Prodigal Son, a homecoming hero; was he really going to be able to live up to all those expectations? Yeah. Of course he fucking was! What a ridiculous question.

Smiling to himself, he finished his coffee and turned away from the window, pulling off the white Egyptian cotton towel that was tied around his waist. He had one hell of a body – hard, toned and tanned thanks to a recent trip to Marbella followed by a pre-season tour of California. And hadn’t that been a blast? Who knew those American girls would be so into their ‘soccer’ – as they called it over there. Or their soccer players? He probably had David Beckham to thank for that one.

He smiled again, checking out his naked reflection in the full-length mirror. Yeah. He was going to live off those American memories for a while, that was for sure. Not just because of the women, but because that had been the last time he’d played for a club he’d been a part of for over four years. But, in the world of football, you went where the money was, and right now the money was here, back in his native North-East England.

Pulling on battered jeans, black t-shirt and expensive trainers, Ryan ran a hand through his short, dark hair as he sat down on the edge of the huge king-size bed, watching the traffic steadily crossing the Tyne Bridge in what seemed like a constant, never-ending stream. He had a long day ahead of him – interviews, photo calls, not to mention moving into the house his new club had sorted out for him. Another roller-coaster of a ride was about to begin, and just because he was back up north, away from the bright lights of London and all the temptations that had been thrown his way, none of which he’d declined, it didn’t mean that this chapter of his life was going to be any less crazy. Why would it be? Ryan Fisher had it all – money, talent, any woman he wanted. He had the lot. And he had no intention of letting go of any of it any time soon.

‘Ten-thirty, at Newcastle Red Star’s ground. Did you get that, Amber?’

Amber Sullivan looked at her boss. Shit! Had he just asked her something? Her mind had been temporarily distracted by the constant arrival of texts being sent to her phone regarding the ongoing rumours of Ryan Fisher making a return to the North East; only, she knew they weren’t rumours anymore.

‘Sorry, Kevin. I was…’

‘Distracted, yeah. I got that. Just get your head together in time for this interview, okay? We’ve got an exclusive here. He isn’t speaking one-on-one to any other local news programme, so…’

‘Are we talking about Ryan Fisher here?’ Amber asked, swinging her chair round and crossing her long legs as her producer sat down on the edge of her desk, clasping his hands together on his lap.

‘Who else has just signed a record-breaking transfer deal with one of the biggest clubs in the region? Come on, Amber. I need you focused here. I’m sending you to interview him.’

‘Why me?’ Amber began rooting around in her desk drawer, looking for the Dictaphone she remembered throwing in there the other day after a particularly second-rate interview with a Durham cricketer who’d quite obviously been in no mood to talk sport but had been quite happy to make a move on her in the most clumsy and irritating of ways. ‘I thought you were sending Harry to Tynebridge?’

‘I was. Until we got word that Ryan Fisher was willing to speak to us one-on-one before the main press conference, so your plans for the day have changed, kiddo. You’re the only one I can trust to do this interview properly.’ Kevin Russell pushed a hand through his light-brown, slightly ruffled hair and stood up before shoving both hands in the pockets of his well-cut black trousers. ‘Ten-thirty, Tynebridge Stadium. There’s a pass waiting for you at reception. Come and see me when you get back.’

Amber threw her head back and closed her eyes. She actually loved this time of year, when the new football season was just beginning, the summer transfer window was drawing to a close and rumours and speculation were rife. There was a certain kind of energy filling the Sports Department as everyone tried to second-guess just who might be signing who, or which player was about to leave English football behind for the chance to experience, say, the excitement of La Liga over in Spain, or the opportunity to make more money than they could ever dream of over in Asia.

She’d been working on Newcastle-based regional news programme News North East for over ten years now, starting out as a junior reporter before climbing to the dizzy ranks of the show’s first ever female Sports Editor five years ago at the age of thirty-two. She loved her job. She was also extremely good at it.

Amber Sullivan had grown up surrounded by sport, so it was only natural that her work revolved around it. Her father, Freddie Sullivan, was an ex-professional footballer – and an ex-Newcastle Red Star player – who now managed a local lower-league club, so being around sportsmen, and footballers in particular, was nothing new to her. Although, as she’d got older it had become less of an enjoyable experience, because Amber had grown up to be nothing short of beautiful. Which brought with it its own set of problems. With long, naturally dark hair that hung in loose waves around her shoulders, pale blue eyes and olive-toned skin she’d inherited from her late Spanish mother it was as if, one day, she’d suddenly turned from that tomboy who loved a kick-about with the lads into a stunning young woman, which in turn meant that a lot of the sportsmen she knew suddenly stopped seeing her as ‘one of them’, and began seeing her as more of a conquest. Especially the footballers. Even though they knew her father, respected him, looked up to him, they didn’t seem to have the same respect for his daughter.

Because of that, Amber had always made a conscious effort to stay away from relationships with sportsmen of any kind, but she steered clear of relationships with footballers more than any other sportsmen in particular. She wasn’t perfect, though, and she’d strayed from that self-imposed rule only briefly a few years back when she’d embarked on a short relationship with a player called Ronnie White, a man who had gone on to become one of her closest friends. But Ronnie had been different to the others, an exception. So she had no intention of going there again, no desire to become emotionally involved with men who could quite easily hurt her with their selfish behaviour and egos that seemed to need boosting on an hourly basis. It just wasn’t on her agenda, despite these men being the people she hung out with both professionally, and personally, on a frequent basis. Amber Sullivan had no desire to be a WAG. The whole lifestyle some of those women signed up for was nothing short of abhorrent to her because, deep down inside, she was still that tomboy who’d accompanied her father to nearly all of his matches, learning all about the so-called ‘beautiful game’ from the very best. Her interest was in the sport – not the men who played it. Unless it was on a purely professional level, of course.

No, she was quite happy being single. Feisty and fiercely independent, Amber had no room in her life for a man. Except her dad. He was the only man who mattered to her right now, especially since the loss of her mother just two years ago. As an only child, that had pushed her and her father even closer together, so, in between making sure he was okay, and her job at News North East, she had no time for anything resembling a serious relationship. She had no time for relationships, full stop. They would only get in the way.

She sat up and looked over towards Kevin’s glass-fronted office. He was standing at the window tapping his watch and shrugging. Amber couldn’t help but smile. He was going to give himself another angina attack if he didn’t learn to relax a bit more. She’d never been late for an interview, never missed an appointment. Amber Sullivan let nothing get in the way of her work, and Kevin Russell knew that. Yet still he stressed out.

She stood up, grabbed her bag and mouthed ‘I’m going’ at her producer, who smiled his thanks and turned away from the window to answer his constantly ringing phone. Amber had a feeling today was going to be one of those days when her feet didn’t touch the ground, but those were the kind of days she loved – when she was part of something big and exciting. And, right now, as far as the world of North-East football was concerned, there was nothing bigger or more exciting than the arrival of Ryan Fisher.

It was something he should be used to by now, being shoved from room to room, passed on to every person who wanted a piece of him, but it still didn’t sit well with Ryan. Even after all his years in the top-flight of professional football this was the bit he hated the most – the interviews, press conferences, photo calls. But it was all part of the package, and it was a package he’d wanted ever since he’d been old enough to kick a ball.

Ryan Fisher was twenty-six years old, just over 6ft tall with beautiful, deep – almost navy – blue eyes, short, slightly unruly dark hair and a beard that gave him a somewhat rough-and-ready look that only made him all the more attractive, as did the multitude of tattoos he’d collected over the years that graced his extremely toned and incredibly sexy arms. In fact, the only word to describe Ryan Fisher was handsome. Very, very handsome. And it was this – combined with the hard, toned body – that had made him the pin-up player of the football world, which meant he didn’t just get the women, he also got the sponsorship deals, the modelling contracts, the invites to every celebrity party going. But Ryan also had a natural talent for the game that hadn’t been seen in a long time.

Growing up on a large, sprawling council estate just outside of Newcastle-upon-Tyne, he’d only ever wanted to be a professional footballer. As a child he’d spent all of his spare time kicking his beloved football against walls or organising five-a-side games with his mates on the playing field at the back of his house. Saturdays had been his favourite day of the week, when he’d sit with his dad, eagerly watching the football results roll in, then spend the rest of the evening waiting for Match of the Day to start so he could watch the professionals at work, hoping that, one day, he could be one of them, playing out there on some of the most famous pitches in the world in front of thousands of loyal supporters. When his father could afford it, they’d even go into town to see Newcastle Red Star play, giving Ryan a taste of what it felt like to be part of the excitement football could create. Days like that had only made him want it more.

It was all he could think about. He’d thrown himself into every school team at the earliest age he could, rising from a star of the under-13s into a promising under-16 prospect, which is where he was first spotted by a scout from a London club on the lookout for local talent. He’d been fourteen at the time, and he’d never forgotten the excitement he’d felt when that scout had approached his father on the touchline one rainy Thursday afternoon as his team took on another local school in the Under-16’s county tournament. That one meeting had been the beginning of what was turning out to be one hell of a career for Ryan.

He’d been whisked down to London for a trial at a First Division club, with their coach eager to sign him to their Youth Team almost immediately, and whilst his mother had been reluctant to let her son move down south – away from his family, his school, his friends – at such a young age, his father had seen the wisdom in not letting this chance pass Ryan by. It was an opportunity that might not have come along again.

And so the journey began. His days had been split between the training field and the classroom as he’d combined those first steps of his dream career with studying for his GCSEs and, thanks to a tutor whom Ryan had never forgotten, he’d come away with passes that could have guaranteed him a place at college to study A Levels. If that’s what he’d really wanted. But that had never been Ryan’s plan. Despite the fact he’d been – and still was – an intelligent young man, he’d only ever wanted to play football, and those that mattered could see that natural talent he possessed. They’d known it was an ambition he could easily fulfil.

By the age of sixteen he’d been playing first-team football, still unable to believe that he was actually living his dream. But that dream had only grown bigger when, at seventeen, a big-name club had shown more than a little interest in him. And suddenly, before Ryan’s feet had had a chance to hit the ground, he’d been surrounded by agents and managers and PR people as word began to spread of this new, young talent that was setting the football world alight. There was talk of big money and sponsorship deals, figures that – at the time – Ryan couldn’t even begin to comprehend, so it was just as well there’d been people around who could deal with it all for him. It had been a confusing but exciting time. But all Ryan cared about was playing football. For a while, anyway. Because, once the money had started rolling in and he’d become more savvy with the way the system worked, he’d begun to realise that the amount you could earn depended very much on what you had the balls to ask for.

By the age of nineteen Ryan Fisher had become one of the most recognised faces in English football. And one of the highest paid. He had a sharp business mind, able to steer agents and managers in whichever direction he wanted them to go as easily as he could direct a ball into the back of the net. Contract negotiations were never a sticking point because Ryan wasn’t just business-smart, he also had a knack for turning on the charm, both on and off the pitch.

As a young, top-earning player he had no shortage of women throwing themselves at him. And that was one perk he was more than willing to capitalise on. By the time he was twenty-one he’d become one of the biggest players in the English Premier League, with a life that was way beyond even his wildest dreams. Clubs were falling over themselves to sign him, men wanted to be him, and women wanted to be with him. He had everything he could ever have wished for, and he was doing the job he loved because, despite everything else that was going on around him, Ryan’s first love was the game itself. But, if that game brought with it all the trappings of luxury and fame that he was experiencing, then that was a bonus he was happy to take.

He’d been lucky enough to not only play for some of the biggest and best clubs in England, he was also a regular member of the international squad, having represented his country on numerous occasions – the pinnacle of any serious footballer’s career as far as Ryan was concerned. And it never hurt the old bank balance, either.

But now, after almost twelve years away from his native North East, he was finally coming home in a record-breaking, multi-million-pound transfer deal that was seeing him sign for one of the region’s biggest and most famous clubs – the club he’d supported as a boy. It was a deal he hadn’t been able to ignore. For a number of reasons. The time was right for Ryan to leave London behind. The time was right for him to finally come home.

‘If you’d like to follow me, Mr. Fisher,’ a pretty, young blonde girl smiled at him as she ushered him through the main lobby area of the huge and impressive stadium his new club had just had built. Ryan followed her, his hands buried deep in his pockets, his eyes fixed firmly on her backside – which looked nothing short of perfect in a tight black pencil skirt – as she took him through a set of double doors, past the Players’ Lounge, before stopping outside the Press Lounge opposite.

Ryan couldn’t help but smile back at her, noting the way she blushed slightly before quickly turning away to open the door for him. Even though he was more than capable of opening it himself.

He looked around, peering inside the still-quiet and empty Press Lounge that, in less than an hour, would be full of journalists, reporters and photographers all waiting to hear what he had to say. All waiting to find out just why he’d finally chosen to come home and play for the club he’d supported all his life.

Somehow or other he’d managed to shake off both Max – his agent – and the club official who was to sit in with him when he did this pre-press-conference interview with a local news programme. How he’d managed that he had no idea because they’d been stuck to him like limpets ever since he’d got out of the car not two minutes ago – a car he’d been bundled out of in a rather unceremonious fashion in some ridiculous attempt to keep news of his signing a secret until the very last minute. Which was a waste of time. It was probably old news by now, thanks to the recent Twitter rumours and media speculation that had been rife for the past couple of days.

Taking one more quick glance around, he followed the pretty PR assistant into the room, not missing the slightly panic-stricken look that took over her face when she realised he was alone.

‘Oh, I’m… I’m sorry, Mr. Fisher. We need to wait for the club official, and your agent. They should be here, too. I don’t know where they’ve… If you’ll just excuse me…’

Ryan put his arm across the doorway, blocking her exit, smiling that smile that had turned a thousand women’s heads over the years. ‘So we’re alone? Does that bother you?’

‘I… I could get into trouble, Mr. Fisher…’

‘Quit with the Mr. Fisher crap, will you? It’s Ryan. And you are…?’

She looked at him with eyes that were still full of panic – but there was a tiny hint of excitement there, too; he could see it. A tell-tale sign that she was torn between this chance to be alone with a good-looking, extremely famous footballer, and the need to carry out her job with the utmost professionalism. ‘Erm… my name’s… I’m Ellen.’

Ryan grinned, his arm still resting against the doorpost, still blocking her exit. ‘Ellen… well, what are you doing after all this bullshit has finished then, Ellen?’

‘I don’t know what she’s doing but you’re moving house then getting your head down for an early night. You’ve got training tomorrow morning.’

Ryan groaned as Max Mandell appeared in the doorway, pushing Ryan’s arm out of the way to allow the cameraman from News North East through.

Max Mandell was one of the most respected and revered football agents in the business, with some of the biggest names in the game on his books. Renowned for always getting his clients the best deals possible, he was a straight-to-the-point, hard-nosed businessman who took no crap, which meant he had few friends, but one hell of a client list. Max Mandell was one of those men who didn’t care much about anyone else – unless they could earn him big money. ‘And for Christ’s sake, Ryan, behave yourself, will you? For five frigging minutes. Let’s show this club the professional player they’ve just signed over millions for, not some jumped-up playboy that might just make them regret shelling out all that cash.’ He looked at Ellen as she backed up against the wall, studying her clipboard with probably more interest than was necessary. ‘Is this going to get started soon, sweetheart? Only, we’ve got a shitload of stuff to be getting on with today.’

Ellen looked at him before quickly checking with the News North East cameraman, who gave her the nod that he was almost ready to go. ‘As soon as Ms. Sullivan arrives…’

Ryan looked up. ‘Ms. Sullivan?’

‘Jesus Christ,’ Max sighed, throwing his head back. He knew of Amber Sullivan. He knew her father, Freddie, because he’d been one hell of a player in his day. And Max knew that Freddie Sullivan’s daughter was one very beautiful young woman. But he also knew that she was good at her job. In fact, from what he’d heard, she could be as hard-nosed as him at times. She had a bit of a reputation for it, apparently. He’d often wondered why she’d never moved out of the North East to try for a job on national TV – she was just as good as any of the females who were gracing the world of sports broadcasting right now, and she’d always struck him as extremely ambitious, the few times he’d met her. Not to mention the fact her father was an ex-professional footballer. Surely she had the necessary contacts that could make all that happen for her? Maybe he should have a word with her, see where her thoughts for the future lay. He was sure he could broker some kind of deal to get her into the big wide world of football broadcasting. Max Mandell was never one to say no to a potential client, even if she wasn’t the kind of client he usually went for. ‘Just do the fucking interview and no shit, Ryan. Do you hear me?’

‘Alright, Max. Jesus… I’m not a frigging five-year-old.’

Max looked at Ryan, arching an eyebrow. Ryan Fisher was probably one of the most talented players in football right now but, like most other lads of his age, earning too much and becoming so famous so quickly had side effects that weren’t always pleasant. There were some, of course, who resisted the urge to have their heads turned, but there were others, just like Ryan, who chose to live that stereotypical footballer lifestyle to the hilt. And that wasn’t always an attractive trait. Still, he wasn’t there to keep an eye on their personalities. As long as they stayed fit and did their job, keeping the money rolling into both their pockets, and his, he didn’t really give a shit what they got up to. Not unless it started to affect him.

Ryan stood at the back of the room, his hands in his pockets, his head down, scuffing his trainers against the skirting board in an action that told everyone in the room he wasn’t happy. It wasn’t even lunchtime and already he was pissed off. There were days when he felt as if his life wasn’t his own, and this was fast turning into one of them. Sitting down on a comfortable black leather bucket chair, which quite obviously didn’t belong in that room on a permanent basis, he folded his arms in an almost defensive manner as the somewhat flustered club official finally caught up with them. He smiled at both Ryan and Max before taking his seat, checking a large red book he’d had tucked under his arm, all ready to make sure that only questions the club had authorised were asked. Max had decided to take his usual, rather more intimidating stance of leaning against the wall, also with folded arms, to keep an eye on things. Ryan was just bored. He hated interviews, and he couldn’t even remember agreeing to this one, but then, how many times had he found himself ‘agreeing’ to things just to humour some sponsor or to earn a few thousand extra pounds for a public appearance?

‘Ah, Ms. Sullivan. You’re here.’

Ryan looked up as he heard Ellen – maybe he could still corner her somewhere along the line and grab that date – welcome the reporter whose heavily vetted questions he was about to spend the next ten minutes answering. And, as his eyes met hers, all thoughts of that date with the beautiful but nervous Ellen flew right out of the window.

Amber diverted her eyes away from Ryan Fisher’s gaze to check with Alec, her cameraman, that he was ready to record this interview before looking down at her list of questions. About half a dozen of them had been edited by the over-exacting club official, with many not being deemed suitable to ask at all, although Amber had no idea why. It was hardly as if she was asking for his bank account details. But she’d done this enough times and knew enough about this game and the way it worked to know that even the smallest thing could be considered far too personal to ask. So, it was just a case of gritting her teeth and getting on with it. As usual.

‘Hey, good to meet you,’ Ryan grinned, standing up and holding out his hand, not waiting for anyone else to introduce him. Not that he needed any introductions. Even if you weren’t overly familiar with the world of football, most people knew who Ryan Fisher was. He’d been on the cover of enough glossy gossip magazines or the front pages of the tabloid newspapers, for a variety of reasons. But reasons that usually involved some would-be model, actress or even the odd reality TV star.

Amber looked at him. Was that smile intended to impress her? Sweep her off her feet? Or have her falling at his? He was going to have a long wait, then. ‘Are we all ready to go?’ Amber asked, directing her question at the club official, knowing only too well how tight a schedule these events were run on.

Ryan was even more pissed off now. Was she blanking him? Jesus! She might look hot, but she was one cold bitch. Mind you, that was actually a bit of a turn-on. Ryan had never been one to shirk a challenge, although, to be honest, he’d never really been challenged all that often. In fact, he’d be hard-pressed to think of a time when a woman had blanked him like this.

‘Okay. Mr. Fisher…’

‘My name’s Ryan, sweetheart. Can we lose the “Mr. Fisher” crap? I’m a footballer, not some fucking businessman in a board meeting.’

Amber’s eyes bored into his. Who the hell did he think he was talking to? She was all too aware of this man’s reputation – both on and off the pitch – but she was more than ready for him. Fixing him with her best smile, she crossed her legs and sat back in her chair, glancing over at her cameraman again. He gave her the nod – he was ready to go, so she might as well get this show on the road. ‘Okay then… Ryan. Shall we get started?’

Ryan smiled, too, although he was finding it hard to make that smile reach his eyes. She was one hard-faced cow. It was just a pity she was so attractive because, despite the fact she was quite obviously not in the least bit impressed by who he was, he still found himself drawn to her. Not that he had any intention of acting on it. Why put himself in a situation that would only succeed in denting his delicate ego when there were women out there who would quite happily massage it – and other parts of him – with just the click of his fingers? He’d get this over and done with then go see if he could find Ellen. She was a dead cert, whereas this one wasn’t even going to get off the starting blocks.

‘Fire away,’ Ryan sighed, sitting back and clasping his hands over his stomach.

Amber looked down at her notebook, mainly because she had no real desire to look at this man in front of her, although, as a professional, she knew she’d have to, sooner or later. Even if she couldn’t really care less what he had to say. He may well be on his way to becoming a footballing legend, and even she had to admit that she’d been more than impressed with his performances on the pitch. But as a person, she could, quite frankly, take him or leave him. And preferably the latter. He was doing nothing to eliminate the sometimes misguided stereotype of the modern-day professional footballer with his arrogant behaviour, but it wasn’t like he was the first sportsman she’d come across who acted like this. She knew how to deal with them.

‘So… how does it feel to be back home, then – Ryan?’

Ryan waited until she lifted her head, his eyes immediately locking onto hers in a stare he wasn’t in any hurry to break. ‘How does it feel to be back home?’ A smile spread slowly across his handsome face as he continued to stare at Amber. ‘It feels fucking fantastic!’

‘He’s an arrogant prick,’ Amber said, watching from the dugout as her father’s team played an evening match. The miserable weather from earlier in the day had given way to a beautiful, clear August night – conditions that were perfect for both playing the game, and watching it. The reason why, Amber suspected, the club’s modest, lower-league ground was almost full to capacity which, in terms of her father’s club, was a few thousand, compared to the fifty-four thousand that his old club, Newcastle Red Star, could now command in their new, purpose-built stadium.

Freddie Sullivan looked at his headstrong daughter. ‘You’ve let him get to you, kiddo. That’s not like you.’

Amber sat up straight and looked at her dad. ‘Huh? I have not let him get to me…’

‘I’m just saying, pet. Look, come on. Everyone knows what Ryan Fisher’s like. He’s one hell of a player, both on and off the pitch. You should know that by now.’

‘He’s reinforcing every stereotype there is, Dad. And it isn’t like he’s stupid, either. He’s probably one of the most intelligent players I’ve ever met.’

‘And he knows how to work reporters like you, kiddo.’

Amber looked at her dad again. ‘Like me? What? Women, you mean?’

Freddie laughed, sitting back and stretching out his legs – legs that had once been insured for quite a bit of cash back in the 1970s and 80s. ‘I didn’t say that, Amber. You did.’

Amber stuck her hands in her pockets and sat back too, directing her eyes at the action on the pitch. The interview with Ryan had gone okay, considering. He’d answered most of the questions she’d put to him in a professional and articulate way, which had really frustrated her. More than she’d thought it would. He was an incredibly intelligent young man, yet he chose to act, at times, as though he was nothing more than an empty-headed poster-boy, full of crap and arrogance. She’d almost hoped, as she’d made her way to Tynebridge that morning, that all the rumours she’d heard about him from those who’d met him weren’t true, but it seemed they were. More’s the pity.

‘It was a good interview, though, don’t you think?’ Freddie commented, quickly jumping up from the bench to yell an instruction at one of his floundering defenders.

Amber waited for him to sit back down, still staring at the action on the pitch. ‘The edited version looked fine, yeah. But he’s still an arrogant prick. And that came across in all the bits you didn’t see on TV tonight.’

Freddie looked at his daughter again. ‘You’ve been in this business a long time, Amber. And I’ve never seen you react to any player like this before, and let’s face it, you’ve interviewed some of the biggest idiots this game has ever had the pleasure of spawning. Why’s Ryan Fisher got you so rattled?’

‘He hasn’t got me rattled, Dad. It’s just… it’s been a long day, and I’m tired.’

‘Then maybe you shouldn’t have come to the match tonight. You should have gone straight home, had a bath, watched some TV.’

‘I wanted to come to the match. I didn’t want to go home and sit on my own watching soap operas and drinking wine… Actually, I quite like the drinking wine bit.’

‘Join us in the bar after the match, then. I’ll buy you a pint.’

Amber laughed, finally starting to feel relaxed for the first time since the interview with Ryan Fisher. ‘Yeah. You always did know how to make a girl feel special, Dad.’

Freddie Sullivan leaned over and ruffled his daughter’s hair, pulling her in for a quick hug before jumping back up to yell yet more instructions at that same wayward defender, using language that turned the air bluer than the late-August evening sky.

Amber smiled, leaning back in her seat for the final few seconds of the first half, a little part of her suddenly warming to the idea of soap operas and a bottle of anything cold and white. She wouldn’t miss anything here. Freddie’s team was wiping the floor with the opposition, and anyway, he’d fill her in on everything when she popped round to see him tomorrow. No, despite feelings to the contrary just a few seconds earlier, now she really fancied just sinking into a hot, bubble-filled bath with the radio on low and a glass of ice-cold wine by her side. Because, no matter how much she tried to deny it, Ryan Fisher had got to her. For a reason she couldn’t yet work out.

Ryan rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling, his breathing heavy and shallow. She may well have been shy and quiet at the club earlier, but Ellen certainly knew how to shake off those inhibitions once she’d set foot in the bedroom. Talk about wild! To look at her you wouldn’t think she’d know how to do half the things Ryan had asked her to do, but she’d done them all, willingly. It was over now, though. The sex was done, and he really wasn’t in the mood for conversation and cuddles, which is what so many of them wanted these days. They seemed to think that just because you took them home, gave them champagne, told them how beautiful they were and then let them do anything they wanted to you that it constituted a pre-cursor to a full-blown relationship. It didn’t. And it probably never would. Ryan had no doubt he’d settle down one day, but that day was still far away in the future. He had a lot of living to do, and he had no immediate intention of doing it with the same girl. Not yet, anyway.

‘You’re really not as bad as everyone says you are,’ Ellen smiled, turning onto her side and resting up on one elbow.

Ryan looked at her. She really was pretty. Very pretty. Would it hurt to keep her on the scene for another couple of days? After all, he was still settling in here, wasn’t he? He could do with a bit of company until he found his feet.

‘And what does everyone say about me?’ Ryan smirked, feeling just a touch uncomfortable as she snuggled in against him. He usually didn’t encourage this from any of the women he slept with in case it led to those mixed signals he was so wary of. But he didn’t really have the heart to push her away. Especially as he was still considering keeping her around for a little while longer.

‘They say you’re an arrogant, self-centred, selfish bastard,’ Ellen went on, her arms circling his waist, her head now on his chest. Ryan resisted the urge to put his arm around her shoulders. The signals were already mixed enough, and he figured the only way he was possibly going to be able to end this when he wanted to was by being as distant as he could. He’d done it before, it wasn’t exactly hard. ‘But an arrogant, self-centred, selfish bastard with talent.’

Ryan couldn’t help but smile a wry smile, putting both hands behind his head as he stared at the ceiling again. ‘You’ve heard that a lot, then?’

Ellen shrugged. ‘Quite a few times today.’

Ryan laughed. Yeah, that’d be right. He was all too aware of what people thought about him, but what did their opinions matter, anyway? He did the business on the pitch, didn’t he? And that was all they really cared about. In the long run. As long as you didn’t push them too far, clubs would usually turn a blind eye to anything you got up to off the pitch, within reason, of course. But it didn’t stop them voicing their opinions to anyone who’d listen.

‘Oh, I’m sorry…’ Ellen said, letting go of him and sitting up, covering her pretty, pert breasts with the thin bed sheet. ‘I haven’t offended you, have I?’

Ryan sat up, too. He was fast reaching the point where he wanted her to leave. Being alone seemed like such a great idea right now. He’d had his fun; he didn’t need the company anymore. ‘Sweetheart, you couldn’t offend me if you tried. Listen, if I took notice of everything everybody said about me I doubt I’d have got very far in this game. And anyway, maybe they’re right. Maybe I am an arrogant, self-centred, selfish bastard.’

Ellen looked at him for a second, frowning slightly, until she realised he was speaking with his tongue very firmly in his cheek.

‘Look, Ellen, this has been fun, but… I’ve got training in the morning, y’know? New club and everything. I don’t want to turn up late on my first morning, or even worse, worn out. You know how it is.’

‘Oh… Oh, yes, of course. I’m… I’m sorry. I should go.’ She leaned over the side of the bed and quickly retrieved her discarded underwear, hurriedly slipping it back on as though she didn’t want him to see her naked anymore. Which was pointless. He’d seen it all, and so much more, so trying to hide it now was a waste of time. ‘I’ve got things to do, too.’

She looked at him with an expression that seemed as though she was dying for him to ask just what those things were exactly, to show some kind of interest in her life, but why would he? He’d known her all of five minutes and, in all honesty, he’d probably wake up tomorrow morning unable to even remember her name. Maybe he should write it down somewhere, get her to leave him her number, because he did want to see her again. But only because he hadn’t had enough time to check out what else was on offer yet.

‘Listen, sweetheart, scribble down your number, okay? Leave it there on the bedside table.’ Ryan indicated to a scrap of paper lying beside the empty condom packet before sliding out of bed and walking naked to the en-suite. Why the hell should he be shy? If you had it, flaunt it. And Ryan Fisher certainly had it. In spades. ‘You can see yourself out, can’t you?’ In Ryan’s eyes the fun was over, and in his world he called the shots.

Chapter Two

‘Have you done something to your hair?’ Kevin asked, cocking his head as he stood at the side of Amber’s desk.

‘I’ve dyed it,’ she replied, without looking away from her computer screen.

‘I thought it looked different. It suits you.’

This time Amber looked at her producer, frowning slightly. ‘Are you alright?’

‘Of course I’m alright. Why the hell wouldn’t I be alright?’

‘Since when have you cared about the state of anyone’s hair? Come to think of it, I’ve had God knows how many changes of hair colour, and styles, since I’ve worked here and you’ve never noticed any of them. What’s the matter with you?’

Kevin shrugged, throwing a press pass down on her desk. ‘It’s pretty hard to miss that hair colour to be honest.’

Amber ran a hand through her newly-coloured, dark red hair, smiling at her producer. For some reason she’d felt like a change – of what, she hadn’t been entirely sure, but dyeing her hair had seemed like the easiest option. And she liked it. A lot. So much, in fact, that she was considering keeping it that colour. ‘You said it suits me,’ she smiled, chewing on the end of her pen, a habit she’d never been able to break in all of her years working on News North East.

‘It does. It matches your frigging temper. You’re off-site again today, kiddo.’

Amber groaned, throwing her head back, her pen still stuck in her mouth. ‘I’ve got so much stuff to catch up on, Kevin. I could have done with a day at my desk.’

‘Tough. You’re off to Red Star’s training ground. We’re covering Ryan Fisher’s first day with his new club. Oh, and let’s not forget the double whammy Red Star have just thrown up by signing Jim Allen as their new manager. That’s being made official today. You could maybe try grabbing a word with him, too, while you’re at it. If he’s there, that is.’

Amber sat up straight, taking the pen out of her mouth. ‘That’s definite, then?’

‘What’s definite?’ Kevin asked, looking through a pile of newspapers he was holding.

‘Jim Allen, coming back to Red Star as manager.’ She’d heard the rumours concerning ex-Newcastle Red Star player Jim Allen joining the club as their new manager, but she hadn’t thought anything would come of it. He’d been in charge of a huge and extremely successful London club for some time now, and as far as she’d been aware they were trying to hold onto him with some eye-watering new contract negotiations, so determined were they to keep him where he was. So she hadn’t thought coming back to the North East was an option for him, despite Red Star desperately wanting a successful, big name manager to help them with their league-winning efforts this season. And who better than a man who’d been one of their most popular players back in the day?

Jim Allen was also a good friend of her dad’s. He’d joined Newcastle Red Star just as her father was ending his professional playing days, but Freddie Sullivan had taken Jim under his wing, become his mentor almost. They’d stayed close ever since. So she’d have thought Freddie would’ve said something to her about this if he’d known what was going on. She wasn’t sure how often they talked these days, but it really would have been nice, if he did know something, to have let her know. For a number of reasons. None of which he would actually have been aware of.

Kevin looked at her through slightly narrowed eyes. ‘Remind me, what job do you do again? Jesus Christ, Amber, come on. Isn’t Jim Allen a family friend or something? Surely you of all people should be keeping up with all of this. He signed the contract this morning. They’re holding a press conference at Tynebridge later today, so it’s possible he won’t be at the training ground when you’re there, but if he is… Anyway, I’m sending Phil to the press conference, if you don’t mind. I’d rather you concentrated on Ryan Fisher, for now.’

Amber stuck the end of her pen back in her mouth, looking briefly out of the window. ‘That’s fine with me.’ Another meeting with the charming Mr. Fisher. She couldn’t wait. ‘Anything in particular we’re looking for here?’

‘Not really,’ Kevin said, flicking through a copy of one the local newspapers. ‘I suspect the place’ll be swarming with press and TV, so we’ll just be one of many trying to get a glimpse of the returning hero in action.’

‘He’s hardly a hero,’ Amber muttered, throwing her phone and press pass into her bag. She suddenly had a headache forming right behind her eyes.

Kevin arched an eyebrow. ‘Well, whatever he is – and I’ve heard him called plenty – keep an eye on him, and just try and get a word with him after training, okay? See how his first session’s gone, find out how he’s feeling about making his debut for the club on Saturday, what he thinks of Jim Allen as a manager; you know the kind of thing. You don’t need me to tell you.’

‘Gonna be difficult to get a one-to-one if everyone else is going to be there. And didn’t we cover most of that in yesterday’s interview?’

‘You know how this works, Amber; you’ve done it enough times. And you shouldn’t have any trouble getting his attention, anyway. Not with that hair colour.’

Amber contemplated wearing a hat, because she wasn’t all that keen on attracting the attention of Ryan Fisher. She hadn’t liked him on sight yesterday, and she didn’t think she was going to feel any different today. But this was her job, so she was just going to have to suck it up and get on with it.

‘Okay,’ she sighed, throwing Kevin a look that told him she wasn’t happy but she’d do it anyway. ‘I’m on my way.’

‘You’re such a trooper, Amber,’ Kevin said with his usual dose of dry wit. ‘I’ve already sent Alec over to the ground to do camera and sound, so, when you’re ready you might like to get over there and join him.’ He made a point of looking at his watch before walking back towards his office. ‘Any time in the next five minutes would be ideal,’ he shouted over his shoulder. ‘Come and…’

‘… see you when I get back, I know.’ She sighed again, shutting down her computer.

‘Whoa! What’s happened to your hair?’

‘Ronnie!’ Amber squealed, jumping out of her chair and throwing herself into her best friend’s arms.

She’d known Ronnie White for almost ten years now. An ex-professional, North-East-born footballer – and a pretty famous one at that – he was now a popular TV football pundit and commentator after his career had been ended due to injury five years ago, at the age of thirty. He now split his time between his home in Northumberland, and London, but Amber never saw enough of him. He was the only footballer who’d caused her to break her ‘no relationships of any kind with any footballers’ rule, and she loved him. Like a brother. Despite that very brief and very physical relationship during his time as a top-flight player. But that was all over now. She was just glad their friendship had survived the post-sex period. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I thought I’d come and surprise you,’ Ronnie grinned, swinging her round before putting her back down, holding her out at arm’s length. ‘I’m back up north to cover Ryan Fisher’s first game with Newcastle Red Star at the weekend.’

‘I didn’t know that match was being televised,’ Amber said, ridiculously excited to see him. It’d been a while, and she hadn’t realised how much she’d missed him, until now.

‘You know how they change these things. With the arrival of both Jim Allen and Fisher at Red Star, suddenly this game looks like the more exciting option. And it gives me the perfect excuse to come home for a few days. You did know about Jim Allen signing as Red Star’s new manager, didn’t you?’

‘Yeah. Of course I knew,’ Amber said, pushing a hand through her newly-dyed hair before giving Ronnie another big hug.

‘Put him down, Amber, and get your arse out of here and over to Red Star’s training ground,’ Kevin said, reappearing beside her desk again. ‘Hello, Ronnie.’

‘Kevin… Look, I’m at a bit of a loose end right now, so why don’t I go with Amber this morning? I’m dying to get a look at Fisher in action.’

‘I don’t need your help, Ronnie,’ Amber said, leaning back against her desk and folding her arms, that headache showing no signs of dissipating.

‘Hey, Miss Defensive. That’s not the reason I want to go with you, alright?’

‘Yeah, but having him around might help you get closer to Fisher,’ Kevin pointed out.

‘What? Because he’s famous, too?’ Amber asked.

‘Err, yeah,’ Kevin replied, looking at Amber as though she’d just made a really stupid comment. ‘He might feel more inclined to come over and speak to somebody he used to share a dressing room with.’

‘To be fair, Kevin,’ Ronnie started, ‘… me and Ryan Fisher only played for the same club for about three months. And we were never what you’d call the best of friends. He was just a kid… Anyway, I don’t want to go with Amber to help her get an interview. She’s more than capable of doing that all by herself.’

‘Thank you,’ Amber smiled, sticking her tongue out at Kevin, who responded by giving her a rather rude finger gesture.

‘I want to go with her because she’s my best mate, and I haven’t seen her for far too long. I just want to spend some time with her.’

‘Aaah, isn’t he lovely?’ Amber said, still smiling, squeezing Ronnie’s arm and poking her tongue out at Kevin again.

‘Do that too many times and your face’ll stay that way,’ Kevin smirked. ‘And then you won’t stand a chance of luring any players over for an interview, never mind the really famous ones.’

‘I’m sure I could do you for some kind of sexual harassment with that comment, Mr. Russell,’ Amber said in a mock-shocked tone.

‘Just get your arse out of here, now. Go on. And take him with you,’ Kevin smiled, indicating Ronnie. ‘Fancy a drink later, Ron? Usual place? Around eight-thirty?’

‘Sure. Make mine a pint. See you there.’

Amber glanced over at her best friend. He looked tanned and handsome with his messed-up, dark brown hair and hazel eyes; he also looked happier than she’d seen him in a long while. That long-overdue holiday to Majorca must have done him the world of good, and he’d needed it. The recent divorce from his wife, Karen – who’d left him for a big-name goalkeeper after seven years of marriage – had knocked him for six and Amber still wished she could have been there for him more than she had been.

‘Everything okay with you?’ she asked, linking her arm through his as they made their way to the underground car park.

‘If you mean am I getting over Karen, then yes. Slowly. I’ve stopped blaming myself, anyway.’

Amber squeezed his arm, stopping briefly to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. ‘It never was your fault, Ronnie.’

He shrugged, sliding his arm round her waist and giving it a quick squeeze. ‘Maybe I just wasn’t there for her enough.’

‘That’s not an excuse to go shagging about though, is it? She knew what she was getting into when she married a footballer. I mean, that’s half the reason I steer well clear of relationships with you lot.’

They stepped into the lift and Ronnie leaned back against the wall, his hands in his pockets, a slight smile on his face. ‘That’s the reason, huh? You don’t like to be alone too much, is that it?’

Amber smiled back. ‘On the contrary. I love being alone.’

‘Bollocks! Come on, Amber. You’ve been on your own for far too long now. Isn’t it about time you found yourself a nice young man to share your life with?’

She looked at him out the corner of her eye as the lift finally reached the underground car park. ‘Who are you? My father? And, for your information, I don’t want a “nice young man” to share my life with.’

‘Whatever you say,’ Ronnie sighed, following her out into the strip-lit car park. ‘I just hope it wasn’t me who put you off relationships with footballers.’

Amber said nothing for a few seconds, continuing to walk with her head down before she fixed a smile on her face and turned to look at him. ‘You flatter yourself, Mr. White.’

They finally reached Amber’s car, Ronnie resting his arms on the roof of her pale blue Fiat 500 as he smiled at her. ‘So, what do you think of Ryan Fisher?’

‘Not much,’ Amber replied, climbing into the driver’s side, relieved he’d changed the subject.

‘He didn’t win you over with the famous Fisher charm, then?’ Ronnie slid into the passenger seat, immediately fiddling with the radio to try and find the sports station he occasionally did some work for.

‘No. He didn’t.’ Amber backed out of the parking space and drove slowly out into the late-August sunshine, sliding her sunglasses down over her eyes the second they hit daylight. ‘Has he always been such a cocky bastard?’

‘He’s always been extremely confident, if that’s what you mean.’

‘No. That’s not what I mean. There’s a difference between cocky and confident, and he was most definitely cocky. Almost as if he just expected me to fall at his over-insured feet. And the second it was evident that I wasn’t going to do that, his mood changed.’

‘Well, one thing I do know about Ryan Fisher is that he’s never had a problem getting the women. So, what happened? Did you knock him back?’ Ronnie grinned.

Amber briefly looked at him, smiling slightly. ‘No, I didn’t knock him back because he never asked me anything.’

‘Ryan Fisher doesn’t need to ask, Amber. He just gets. Whatever he wants, usually. That’s the way this game plays out these days, with players at his level.’

‘Did you always get what you wanted when you were playing?’

‘I already had what I wanted, didn’t I? I had Karen. I didn’t need to look anywhere else. I didn’t want to.’

Ronnie turned to look out of the window and Amber threw her head back for a second as they pulled up at traffic lights. ‘Ronnie, I’m sorry,’ she sighed.

‘It’s okay, really,’ he smiled. ‘I guess I’m still just a bit over-sensitive about everything, that’s all. Which is why I’m glad to be back here in the North East for a while. I get to come home, hang out with you, and forget about all that crap.’

Amber returned his smile, leaning over to quickly kiss his cheek again before the lights turned to green and she sped off out of the city centre towards Red Star’s training ground on the outskirts of town. ‘Having a good time sounds like a plan to me. It’s been ages since I’ve had a decent night out.’

‘That’s because you work too hard and never let yourself go,’ Ronnie said. ‘It’s not a crime to enjoy yourself, y’know.’

‘Yeah, thanks, I know that, Ronnie. But there aren’t all that many people around to have a good time with.’

‘Rubbish! You just hate letting your guard down. You hate letting people see beneath that ball-breaking exterior.’

Amber couldn’t help laughing. ‘Ball-breaking exterior?’

‘Yes,’ Ronnie laughed. ‘You’ve got a bit of a reputation, kiddo.’

‘Have I now,’ Amber remarked. ‘Well, we might have to do something about that, then.’

‘Is that a promise?’ Ronnie grinned as they pulled into the visitor’s car park at Red Star’s training ground.

‘Tell you what,’ Amber smiled, getting out of the car and slamming the door shut. ‘Tell Kevin you’ve got other plans for tonight and I’ll show you that I can let myself go just as much as the next person. Alright?’

‘You’re on,’ Ronnie said. ‘So, Amber Sullivan, party girl, is coming out to play?’

Amber just smiled, sliding her sunglasses up onto her head as she turned away and started walking towards the entrance to the training ground. ‘I never said that. Come on. I’ve got work to do before I can even start thinking about having any kind of fun.’

But, all of a sudden, fun seemed like a really great idea. Especially if she was sharing that fun with Ronnie. Yeah. Maybe a night out was something she needed. After all, what harm could it do?

Ryan was having a good day. So far nothing was telling him that this move back to his native North East was one he was going to regret, but even if it was, he couldn’t go back. Anyway, wasn’t playing for the club you’d supported all your life a really big deal for a professional footballer? That hadn’t been the first thing on Ryan’s mind when he’d asked Max to find him a northern club, but he was secretly over-the-moon that Newcastle Red Star had wanted him so much they’d agreed to all the terms Max had put forward. His wages had increased significantly, they’d provided him with a fabulous, if not slightly-out-of-the-way, house to live in, and everyone was treating him like a returning hero. Everyone except that reporter from News North East. The one with the hard-faced attitude and the sexy-as-hell body. What a conundrum that posed. Despite the fact he’d been seriously unimpressed at her reaction towards him – being cold-shouldered wasn’t something he was used to – he hadn’t been able to get her out of his head. More’s the pity. He’d never had to chase after a woman in his life and he wasn’t about to start now. It was pointless even trying with her, anyway. Pointless going after something that was only going to kick you in the balls, metaphorically speaking, of course. Why bother with all that shit when he had Ellen ready and waiting for him to just click his fingers whenever he wanted her? Not to mention all the potential conquests that would doubtless be lining up to meet the newest addition to North-East football when he hit the town later. Some of his team-mates were taking him into the city centre for a bit of a ‘welcome to the club’ night out, and even though it was a Wednesday, and probably not the kind of night that was going to throw up the biggest choice in women, Ryan was absolutely certain there wouldn’t be a shortage. It was almost as if these girls could sniff out a footballer at fifty paces, and before you knew it you were surrounded by a barrage of them all trying to ‘get to know you’. Ryan couldn’t fucking wait!

‘Okay you lot, back on the pitch, come on!’

Ryan pulled himself up off the ground, glugging back one last mouthful of water. He had no intention of ignoring Colin Bailey. The man was a legendary football coach who, along with Jim Allen, the charismatic, American-born ex-player-turned-manager, had joined the club in the hope that they could bring Newcastle Red Star the success that had eluded them for far too long. Bailey had a reputation as a stern but fair coach, and it was a reputation that had gained him the respect of any player who’d trained under him. But he could also put the fear of God into you if he thought you were slacking in any way. Ryan, however, intended to start as he meant to go on – getting on the good side of his new coach.

‘Over here, Fisher!’ Colin yelled in his tough Glaswegian accent. An accent that only solidified his no-nonsense attitude. ‘A quick kick-about to end the session, okay? But let’s not treat this like a piss around in the park, alright? I’m watching the lot of you. Especially you, Fisher. We need to know exactly what to do with you on Saturday.’

Ryan ran back out onto the pitch, ready to give not just the coach but also the gathering crowd of press and TV that had been allowed access into today’s training session something to really look at. Ryan Fisher was one of the greatest strikers out there right now, and he was in the process of showing them just what it was this club had paid millions for.

Fifteen minutes later and all he had to do was talk to a couple of journalists, give a handful of quick interviews to camera, and he was done for the day. But Ryan didn’t intend to waste the afternoon playing golf or spending money on some ridiculously overpriced shirt to wear tonight; he had enough of those already. No, he intended to give Ellen a ring, see if she could get away for an hour or so. He was going to spend the afternoon getting some practice in for his night on the town. Ellen was the warm-up act, but Ryan was definitely on the lookout for a different main performance.

‘You ready, then?’ Max asked, sauntering over to Ryan, his mobile phone attached firmly to his ear.

Ryan rubbed a towel along the back of his neck, looking over towards the throng of assorted journalists and reporters who were across the other side of the pitch talking to some of his teammates. ‘Yeah. I’m ready.’

‘Great. Hang on a second; I’ll just take this call. Don’t wander off, okay?’

Ryan sometimes wondered if Max actually knew how old he was, because, at times, he still treat him like the nineteen-year-old kid he’d been when Max had first started representing him. Or maybe he just knew him too well.

Looking over once again at the crowd of reporters, Ryan squinted slightly as a familiar figure stepped back from the crowd. Was that Ronnie White? What was he doing here? Hang on; was he with that reporter from yesterday? What was her name again…? Amber. That was it! Amber Sullivan. Daughter of Freddie Sullivan, apparently. So Max had told him. Pity she hadn’t inherited any of her father’s charm. Shit! She looked even sexier with that new hair colour. Red suited her. Ryan guessed it matched her temperament, which probably meant she was shit-hot in the bedroom – Jesus; he had to quit thinking like that. It wasn’t easy, though. This was one tough girl with attitude that Ryan was suddenly pretty desperate to get closer to. Even if it meant enduring a few more kicks in the teeth. Maybe that’s what she got off on.

‘What’re you smirking at?’ Max asked, sliding his mobile phone back into his jacket pocket.

‘Nothing.’

Max followed Ryan’s gaze. ‘Right,’ he sighed. ‘Best leave well alone there, kiddo. She’ll eat you for breakfast.’

‘Yeah,’ Ryan grinned. ‘That’s what I’m hoping for.’

‘For fuck’s sake…’ Max sighed again, rolling his eyes. ‘Come on. Focus for at least five minutes, then you’re out of here. Although, Christ knows I’d feel more comfortable if you were being chaperoned twenty-four hours a day.’

‘If they looked like that…’ Ryan smirked, indicating Amber as she laughed at something Ronnie White said to her, ‘… they can chaperone me all they like.’

‘I thought it was hate at first sight with you two,’ Max said, guiding Ryan towards another local sports reporter who wanted a quick word.

‘Hey, I never said I hated her. I hated being ignored by her. That’s different.’

‘You hate being ignored, full stop. Now, turn on the charm and do what you’re here to do. The sooner we get this out of the way, the sooner we can all go home.’

Amber smiled and waved at a fellow sports reporter she knew from a local radio station as he made his way out of the training ground. He’d had his five minutes with Ryan Fisher, whereas Amber had yet to approach him. It just wasn’t something she was particularly keen to do, even though it was the reason she was there. She’d spoken to a couple of the other players to see how they felt about their new team-mate, but so far she hadn’t set foot near the man himself.

‘I think I know why you don’t want to go near him,’ Ronnie said, leaning nonchalantly against a wall, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his more-than-likely stupidly expensive designer jeans. He was a footballer, after all.

‘Do enlighten me with your theory, then,’ Amber sighed, watching from across the other side of the pitch as Ryan Fisher charmed the pants off another female reporter. It was quite a sight to see. He almost had it down to an art form.

‘You fancy the arse off him.’

Amber swung round and fixed Ronnie with a stare that would kill, given half a chance. ‘Sorry? Did you just accuse me of fancying the arse off Ryan Fisher?’

Ronnie shrugged. ‘It’s obvious.’

‘Oh, is it? Care to fill me in on how you came to that conclusion?’

‘How many footballers have you been around, Amber?’

She said nothing for a second, aware that she still had to talk to Ryan at some point before he disappeared off to do whatever it was footballers did for the rest of their days once training was finished, otherwise Kevin would doubtless have something to say.

‘Loads,’ Amber replied, checking her watch before looking over at Alec.

‘Okay. So, how many of them have you deliberately avoided talking to? For any reason.’

She looked at Ronnie again, narrowing her eyes. ‘None. And what the hell are you talking about?’

‘You fancy him. Come on, Amber. You said yourself you avoid relationships with footballers, but you’ve never actually avoided talking to any of them, especially not in a professional capacity. But look at you! Even you know you’re actually looking for an excuse not to go over to him. Am I right? Or am I right?’

Amber gave Ronnie one last glare through still-narrowed eyes, turned on her heels, and strode purposefully over to where Ryan Fisher was busy talking to his agent.

‘Have you got a couple of minutes to say a few words to News North East about your first training session with Red Star?’ Amber asked, her stomach – for some completely unexplainable reason – turning somersaults. Mind you, that was probably due to the fact she hadn’t had any breakfast that morning. Yeah, that had to be it. She couldn’t think of any other reason.

Ryan turned to look at her, a smile – or was it more of a leer? – spreading slowly across his undoubtedly handsome face. ‘For you, sweetheart, I’ve got all the time in the world.’

Amber groaned inwardly. What the hell was Ronnie thinking? Her? Fancy Ryan Fisher? He needed to give her a little more credit as to the kind of men she went for, because this man here, with a wage packet that was probably as over-inflated as his ego, was so far away from the kind of men she wanted to spend time with.

‘Two minutes, Ryan,’ Max said before leaving them to it.

Yeah, Ryan thought. Two very long minutes, if he had anything to do with it. ‘Loving the new hair colour,’ he smirked, taking another swig from his water bottle, his eyes not leaving Amber’s. ‘Makes you look even sexier than yesterday.’

Was this guy for real? ‘Anyway,’ Amber began, shaking all other thoughts out of her head, ‘…the training session…’ She looked around for Alec, whom she’d assumed was right behind her. He had been a second ago. Where the hell had he gone now? She wanted this interview done and dusted as soon as possible, but she couldn’t do a thing without her cameraman. ‘I’m sorry. My camera guy seems to have disappeared…’

‘I’m in no rush,’ Ryan said, leaning back against the wall, draining the last of the water from his bottle. ‘So, Amber… can I call you Amber?’

She just looked at him before turning round to see if she could spot Alec anywhere.

‘How do you know Ronnie White?’ Ryan asked, running a hand through his dark hair, fixing her with another look as she turned back round to face him. ‘I’m assuming you do know him, because the two of you look pretty friendly to me.’

Amber toyed with the idea of telling him to piss off, but then thought better of it. ‘We’re friends. I met him when he was still a player, about ten years ago, not that that’s any of your business. My dad introduced us at a charity dinner we were all attending at the Civic Centre.’

‘What’s the relationship there, then? You seeing each other? I’ve heard he’s recently divorced…’

‘What the hell has any of that got to do with you?’ Amber interrupted, quite unable to believe that someone could ask such personal questions of somebody they didn’t even know. ‘I’ve told you, we’re friends.’

‘I’m just interested,’ Ryan shrugged, still refusing to divert his eyes away from hers.

Amber shuffled from foot-to-foot, becoming slightly agitated at Alec’s absence now. She just wanted to get this over and done with and get back to the safety of her desk back in the News North East offices.

‘Good friends, are you?’ Ryan asked, arching an eyebrow, which did nothing to lessen the agitation Amber was feeling. She was beginning to dislike him more and more with each passing second. Ronnie couldn’t have been more way off the mark – how on earth did he even think that she could possibly go for someone like Ryan Fisher? If he was the only man left on earth, she’d rather stay single for the rest of her life. ‘Best friends with benefits, huh?’ Ryan winked.

Amber swore she could actually feel her blood begin to boil, and she was about to furnish him with some sort of reply to let him know just how inappropriate that comment had been when Alec finally showed up.

‘Sorry, Amber. Got talking to Jason from North News Tonight. Lost track of time. Are we ready to go here?’

Amber kept her eyes very much on Ryan as she spoke, suddenly feeling the need for that night out with Ronnie more than ever now. ‘Oh, we’re ready to go, Alec. We couldn’t be more ready.’

And, as far as Ryan was concerned, she couldn’t have spoken a truer word.

Chapter Three

The bar was unusually crowded for a Wednesday night, but for Ryan that just meant more choice. He’d had a more than pleasant afternoon sampling the delights of the lovely Ellen; so pleasant, in fact, that he’d been almost sorry to leave the sanctuary of his bedroom behind. She certainly knew how to keep his attention, but Ryan didn’t care too much for playing with the same friend for too long. He liked variety, and plenty of it.

‘Hey, you okay, mate?’ Gary Blandford, the club’s Sunderland-born star defender asked, sliding onto the stool next to Ryan. Gary had a bit of a reputation himself, never one to shirk the lifestyle or benefits that came with his job, despite being engaged to a very pretty local model called Debbie who, with her glamorous image and local-celebrity lifestyle, had earned herself the nickname of Queen of the Red Star WAGs. They had a lot in common, did Gary and Ryan. Which is why they’d become friendly with each other very quickly.

Ryan looked at Gary as he handed him another pint. ‘Have you had many dealings with Amber Sullivan?’

Gary grinned, taking a mouthful of ice-cold lager. ‘Yeah. ‘Course I have. I mean, I’ve come across her a few times. She’s interviewed a lot of us local players over the years. She certainly makes a welcome change from all those run-of-the-mill blokes-in-suits I used to get at me old clubs. Why do you ask?’

Ryan shrugged. ‘No reason.’

‘You do know she’s Freddie Sullivan’s daughter, don’t you?’

‘Yeah, I know. I’m assuming she takes after her mother in the looks department.’

Gary laughed. ‘Yeah. She’s pretty easy on the eye, isn’t she?’

‘I’ve certainly never been interviewed by anyone with legs like hers before, that’s for sure.’ Ryan smirked, also downing a mouthful of lager.

‘She’s got a reputation for being a bit of a cold bitch, though,’ Gary went on, grinning at a couple of girls in short skirts and extremely high heels as they sauntered past. ‘Won’t touch footballers with a bargepole, apparently. Although, she did have a fling with Ronnie White. Just before he met his ex-wife.’

Ryan looked at his teammate. ‘Really? They used to be a couple?’

Gary nodded. ‘It was never something the whole world knew about. You know Ronnie, he’s a pretty private person. It didn’t last all that long, apparently. But they’ve stayed friends ever since.’

Ryan took another drink. ‘Do you think there’s anything going on between them now? I mean, Ronnie – he’s recently divorced, isn’t he? Was that because of her, do you think? Because of Amber?’

‘Nah, mate. His wife left him for Frankie Greenham, Kennway Town’s goalie. Had nothing to do with the lovely Amber Sullivan. Like I said before, Ronnie White was the one and only exception to her “no footballers” rule. I should know. I’ve tried.’

‘What? You’ve asked her out?’ There was more than a hint of surprise in Ryan’s voice.

‘Half the squad’s asked her out, mate. She’s said no to all of us. Doesn’t want to know.’

Ryan said nothing, just took another slow swig of lager.

‘Anyway, do you want another one? We’re gonna hang round here for a bit longer before we hit the club.’

‘Nah, I’m alright for the minute,’ Ryan smiled.

‘Fancy a game of pool?’ Gary asked, sliding off the stool and grabbing his pint.

‘I’ll be over in a bit. Just got to nip to the loo.’

‘Okay. Well, we’re just over there. See you later.’

Ryan watched Gary walk over to the rest of the lads before turning round on his stool and taking a look around the crowded bar. Sometimes, being a professional footballer at the highest level was akin to being like the proverbial kid in a candy shop. All around him was temptation, and all he had to do was give the nod and whatever he wanted would just appear. Would he ever get bored of that feeling? Would the day ever come when he just didn’t want to do this anymore? When all he wanted to do was settle down and get on with his life? Maybe. But it wasn’t happening any time soon, that was for sure.

Turning back to face the bar, he held up his empty glass and indicated to the barman that he was ready for another. One more then he’d join the rest of the lads. This night was only just beginning, and he had a gut feeling it was going to be a good one.

‘You do know that practically every male head in this bar has turned to look in your direction at least once, don’t you?’ Ronnie smiled, returning to the table with a bottle of champagne and two glasses. ‘Because you have scrubbed up pretty nicely, Ms. Sullivan.’

‘Champagne?’ Amber asked, ignoring Ronnie’s comment. ‘Are we celebrating something?’

‘Yeah. You finally leaving the house for a few hours and actually enjoying yourself.’

‘Cheeky bastard.’ But she couldn’t help smiling. ‘And you don’t scrub up too badly yourself, Mr. White.’

Ronnie White may not have been as obviously handsome as the Ryan Fishers of this world, but he had a quirky quality about him that made him just as attractive, in a different kind of way. Probably more so, because Ronnie wasn’t just some pretty shell that drew women’s attention towards him purely because of his looks. He was also one of football’s nice guys. He always had been; that was just the kind of person he was, and it still seemed unbelievable to Amber that Karen hadn’t been able to see what a gem of a man she’d had in him. As far as she’d been concerned, the grass was greener elsewhere, but in Amber’s eyes she thought Karen had made a huge mistake. Ronnie was a wonderful man, but if Karen hadn’t been able to see that then she really didn’t deserve him. Amber just hoped that, next time, he’d find someone who really loved him and appreciated him. Because he deserved that.

‘You alright?’ Ronnie asked, breaking into Amber’s thoughts.

‘Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. I was just thinking, that’s all.’

‘Well, quit thinking and start enjoying yourself. Here. Get this down your neck.’ He leaned forward, handing her a glass of champagne.

‘You’re such a charmer, Ronnie,’ Amber smiled, taking a sip of the cold, bubbly liquid. ‘And isn’t this a bit excessive? Champagne, on a Wednesday night?’

‘I’m an ex-professional footballer, Amber. There’s no such thing as excessive.’

Amber smiled again, because he’d said that with his tongue very firmly in his cheek. Ronnie had never really lived the extravagant footballer’s lifestyle, which was partly the reason why she liked him so much. But was that also partly the reason why Karen had left him? Had she wanted that lifestyle more than she’d wanted Ronnie? It was something that had crossed Amber’s mind on more than one occasion since Ronnie’s marriage break-up. But it was something she still couldn’t get her head around. Ronnie was genuine. He never did things because he felt he had to, or because he just could. Karen really had no idea what she’d thrown away.

‘Do you fancy going clubbing?’ Ronnie asked, taking a sip of his own champagne, his eyes fixed on Amber as she shuffled about in her seat, the short black dress she was wearing riding up her legs slightly to reveal probably a little more tanned thigh than she’d intended.

‘Clubbing? Are you joking? The last time I went clubbing flares were still in fashion. And you’re hardly John Travolta yourself.’

‘You’re supposed to be having fun.’

‘I am having fun, thank you. This is me, having fun.’

Ronnie leaned forward again, clasping his hands together between his open knees, fixing Amber with a look that defied her to turn away. ‘Do you ever relax? I mean, I’ve known you for almost ten years now and in all that time I’ve only seen you really let yourself go once, maybe twice – my wedding, and that Christmas party we went to when we were a couple, when I was playing for United. The club Christmas party, remember?’

‘How could I forget? You should never have let me have that Long Island Iced Tea. It was lethal.’

Ronnie smiled, and Amber loved the way his eyes crinkled up at the edges. ‘You had such a good night, Amber. You were the life and soul of that party, so I know you can let your hair down, when you want to.’

‘When I’m drunk, you mean,’ Amber half-smiled as she took another small sip of champagne.

‘Well, maybe you should get drunk more often,’ Ronnie sighed, sitting back in his seat. ‘Everything doesn’t have to be so serious all the time, y’know.’

Amber put her glass down and crossed her legs, quickly pulling the hem of her dress down over her thigh. ‘I just want to be taken seriously, Ronnie. I want to be a success, I want to be good at what I do…’

‘You are good at what you do. But sometimes you need to shake off this cold exterior you give off.’

Amber looked at him. ‘Is it really that bad? Do I really come across as cold?’

‘Not all the time, no. But you always come across as incredibly professional.’

‘And what’s wrong with that?’

Ronnie leaned forward again, smiling as he looked at her. ‘Nothing. There’s nothing wrong with that. But I know you, Amber. And I know you’re anything but cold. I just think you put up too many barriers. It’s almost like you’re afraid to let anyone in.’

Amber said nothing, just took another sip of champagne.

‘Don’t you get lonely?’ Ronnie asked. She was such a beautiful woman, he found it difficult to understand how she was still alone after all this time. Since their brief relationship all those years ago he didn’t think she’d been seriously involved with anyone. She’d certainly never spoken to him about any relationships she’d been in or any men she’d met. Yet, she spent her life around men. So surely she couldn’t have been alone for all that time?

‘I haven’t got time to be lonely, Ronnie. I’m a busy girl.’

He sat back again, pushing both hands through his hair, his brown eyes still looking straight at her. ‘Hmm… well, you know what they say – all work and no play makes Amber one very boring young lady.’

She stuck her tongue out at him before taking another sip of champagne. She could get a taste for this, she thought, as the cool bubbles slid effortlessly down her throat. She could feel it going to her head already, but it was a nice feeling. Maybe Ronnie was right. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to enjoy herself for once.

‘Refill?’ Ronnie asked, knowing for sure he’d hit a nerve now. She listened to him, so he hoped that she’d taken what he’d said the right way. He didn’t want to criticise her, he just wanted her to know that he cared about her, and all he wanted was for her to be happy. To make the most of her life. To have some fun.

‘Yeah. Why not?’ Amber smiled, holding out her empty glass for him to fill up. ‘I might as well start the night as I mean to go on.’

‘Is that a promise?’ Ronnie grinned, filling up his own empty glass.

‘Yeah. It’s a promise,’ she laughed. She just hoped it wouldn’t be one she’d end up regretting in the morning.

Ryan pushed his way through the crowd, for once glad that it was so busy hardly anyone recognised him. If he saw someone he wanted to get to know better he’d make himself known. Why attract all and sundry when he didn’t really have the energy to fight off the ones he couldn’t be bothered with? Ryan Fisher was picky when it came to women, despite what the papers might say to the contrary.

‘Shit! Jesus, will you look where you’re going?’

Ryan stopped and turned around, coming face-to-face with the last person he’d expected to see in a busy Newcastle bar on a Wednesday night. He just hadn’t had her down as the type of person to have fun on a weeknight. He didn’t have her down as the type of person to have fun, full stop. He suspected she’d been one of those kids who’d always handed their homework in on time, too.

‘Well, hello there, Ms. Sullivan. We meet again.’ He flashed her the famous Ryan Fisher smile, to no effect. Christ, she was a hard one to crack. But he was almost turned on at the prospect of the challenge.

‘Sorry would have been nice,’ Amber muttered, rubbing her shoulder. ‘You nearly took my arm off there.’

‘Okay… Sorry.’ He was still smiling, and Amber didn’t know whether that was making her angrier, or whether it was actually diffusing a situation that didn’t really need to become heated. At least four other people had bumped into her harder than he had just then, yet she hadn’t called any of those out for doing so.

‘Apology accepted,’ she said, repositioning the strap of her dress back on her shoulder. Very nice shoulders, too, Ryan thought.

‘You here on your own?’ Ryan asked, shoving his hands in the pockets of his black jeans.

Amber narrowed her eyes as she looked at him. Was there no end to this man’s rudeness? Although, he did have really beautiful eyes. A deep blue colour that Amber had never seen before. Jesus, that champagne really must have gone to her head.

Ryan reached out to quickly grab her arm as she briefly lost her balance. ‘Whoa there, gorgeous. You been knocking them back like there’s no tomorrow, then?’

Amber ignored him, trying desperately to sober up, pulling her arm free from his grip. ‘If you’ll excuse me…’

‘Are you here with Ronnie White?’ Ryan asked, not caring that he was getting personal again and that it was something she quite obviously didn’t like. Tough. He wanted to know what was going on there. Gary had said there was nothing between the ex-footballer and this incredibly pretty sports reporter, but what did he know? He’d rather hear it from her. Although the chance that she was going to impart any information to him on that score was probably less than zero.

Amber looked at him, right into those deep-blue eyes, and she had to steady herself again by grabbing onto the table behind her as her heart gave another surprise somersault. She really had to start eating more before she drank alcohol. She just wasn’t used to these kinds of nights out anymore.

‘What’s it got to do…?’

‘With me? Nothing. It’s got nothing to do with me. Not really. But, hey, I just want to know. And you get nowt if you don’t ask, do you?’

Amber couldn’t help smiling. His cocky attitude was something she truly hadn’t come across in such close proximity before, despite all her time around footballers just as famous as he was. But his Geordie accent was just a little bit sexy. She couldn’t deny that. She’d always loved the Geordie accent. And all that time away from the North East certainly hadn’t softened his.

‘You’re smiling,’ Ryan pointed out. Was he making progress here? Was he actually beginning to melt the ice-queen’s frosty exterior?

‘Am I?’ Amber asked, knowing that she was, and not really caring. She was having a great time tonight, even if she had somehow found herself in the middle of some sort of conversation with Ryan Fisher, arrogant bastard and self-styled northern playboy. And now she couldn’t even remember the question he’d asked her not two minutes ago. ‘Sorry, did you just ask me something?’

‘Are you here with Ronnie White? I mean, I know you said you’re just friends, but, someone told me you two used to go out, once-upon-a-time.’

‘Did they now,’ Amber said. It wasn’t a question.

‘You never told me that.’

‘Because it’s got nothing to do with you.’

‘So, did you? Go out with Ronnie White, I mean. Only, I hear you’ve got a bit of a strict “no footballers” rule going on.’

‘You’ve been hearing a lot tonight, haven’t you?’

‘Makes a change to hear stuff about other people, rather than me.’

‘Must be such a pain in the arse, not being the centre of attention.’

Ryan shrugged. ‘It’s good to get a night off.’

She couldn’t help smiling again, despite herself.

‘Anyway, you haven’t answered my question. You and Ronnie White…’

Amber looked over towards the corner table where Ronnie was talking into his mobile phone, laughing at whatever was being said down the line. ‘This really has got absolutely nothing to do with you, and I don’t even know why I’m telling you, but yes, we used to go out. For all of five minutes, really.’

‘Nothing mind-blowingly serious, then?’

She looked at him. ‘No. Nothing serious.’

Neither of them said anything for a few seconds, and then Ryan took his chance, gently grabbing her arm and steering her out into the quieter corridor that housed the toilets and an entrance that led to the bar’s outdoor terrace area.

‘What are you doing?’ Amber asked, taking a few seconds to register just what it was that was happening. That’d teach her to down champagne too quickly. She’d only had two glasses, but it was enough to make her reflexes slower and her judgement that little bit clouded.

‘Look, when I first met you yesterday I really didn’t like you. I mean, you’re this great-looking woman, but your attitude was crap…’

‘Excuse me? My attitude was crap? And which charm school did you graduate from? I’ve got to get back to Ronnie…’

‘No, hang on, Amber…’ He reached out to grab her arm again, swinging her back round to face him.

‘What? What do you want from me?’

He looked at her, not exactly sure how to answer that. He wanted to sleep with her, yeah. Of course he did. But, despite the fact he was Ryan Fisher – and if he wanted to sleep with someone then it usually happened – this was a whole different ball game. She wasn’t going to just fall at his feet like the girls he usually went for. He was going to have to work hard to get this one anywhere near his bed, and hard work outside of the football pitch wasn’t something Ryan was keen on. Would she be worth the effort? ‘I just want to get to know you,’ he said, his eyes not leaving hers.

‘Oh. Really.’ Again, it wasn’t a question.

‘Yeah. Really.’

‘You do know I’m a good few years older than you, don’t you?’

Ryan shrugged. ‘So? What’s that got to do with anything?’

Amber narrowed her eyes as she continued to stare at him. ‘So, you’re telling me you’re bored with all the young and pretty football groupies all vying for your attention. You thought you’d try your hand with an older woman instead. Is that it? You’re tired of the wannabe WAGs, huh?’

‘I’m not tired of anything, Amber. I’m not bored of anything and I’m not even thinking too hard about any of this. I just like what I see and I want to find out more. Where’s the harm in that?’

Amber just looked at him for a few more seconds before turning on her red high heels and walking away.

‘Amber! Jesus, come on… Shit!’ Ryan leaned back against the wall and ran a hand through his short, dark hair, closing his eyes for a moment. Under normal circumstances he’d give this up as a bad job and move onto the next one, but two things were different here: one – he’d never had to give anything up as a ‘bad job’ before because nobody had ever walked away from him like she’d just done. And two – he didn’t want to move onto the next one. He wanted Amber Sullivan.

‘Where’ve you been?’ Ronnie asked, looking up as Amber threw herself down on the sofa opposite him.

‘Fending off Ryan Fisher,’ Amber replied, taking her compact out of her make-up bag and checking her face. No, her make-up looked fine – mascara still in the right place, lipstick unsmudged.

‘Huh?’ Ronnie laughed.

Amber snapped her compact shut and looked straight at Ronnie. ‘Do you fancy some really hot sex with no strings attached?’

Ronnie looked around, almost as if he was positive she was talking to someone else and he was trying to see who that person was.

‘Well?’ Amber asked, standing up and sliding her bag up onto her shoulder.

‘Erm, I…’

‘Do you want sex or not, Ronnie? It’s a perfectly simple question. I’m not asking you to marry me or even take me out to dinner, and I know neither of us wants a relationship out of this so, hot sex, no strings. Are you up for it?’

Ronnie stood up, too, holding out his hand. ‘Why the hell not? You only live once.’

Ryan had had enough. He wasn’t really in the mood to hang around any longer, and with training in the morning, and him still with a point to prove at his new club, maybe going back home and getting some rest was the best option. And even though he could easily have gone back out there and picked any woman he wanted to take his mind off Amber Sullivan, he just didn’t feel like it anymore. And that worried him. Was he losing his touch? When had Ryan Fisher not been in the mood for sex? Especially when it was so readily available to him.

Keeping his head down as he pushed his way out of the bar, he took his phone out of his pocket and began texting Gary. He lied, of course. He told him he’d met a girl and was taking her home for fun of the more private kind, when really he was waiting for a taxi to take him back to the huge, empty house the club had stuck him in until he found a place of his own. But Gary and the lads didn’t need to know that. They’d only rib him rotten if they thought he’d joined the ranks of footballers Amber Sullivan had given the brush-off to. He shouldn’t have even bothered trying but all of a sudden Ryan had the ridiculously uncharacteristic urge to take up the challenge Amber had unwittingly offered up.

Never before had Ryan Fisher had to do the chasing, but it looked like, this time, if he wanted something to happen, then he was going to have to start running.

Amber kicked the door shut behind her, hardly having time to take a breath before Ronnie pushed her back against the wall, kissing her hard and deep, his tongue running over the roof of her mouth as their hands pulled at each other’s clothes. Amber had every idea why she suddenly needed to have sex like this – something she hadn’t felt the need to do in a long time – and she also knew that she was using the fact she was having wild and spontaneous sex to forget about that very reason. But who cared? Right now it was time to enjoy what was happening and think about the consequences in the morning. Not that there’d be any consequences. They both knew the score. They were both free agents. They were both in this for a quick release, and nothing else.

Sliding her dress down to the floor, Amber stepped out of it and kicked it away, pulling Ronnie back against her, his mouth covering her neck in soft kisses as his fingers gently ran over her breasts, sending tiny shivers right through her. She’d forgotten how talented this man was at making her feel good. Their brief relationship had been an intense and physical one at the time, in fact, if Amber remembered rightly, they’d spent a hell of a lot of time in bed, which is probably why it had never really gotten off the ground in any other way. That, and the fact that Amber had already made the decision never to get involved with footballers. For a very good reason. What had happened with Ronnie had been a blip, a lapse of concentration on her part, because once that need for almost constant sex had gone, that was when they’d realised they worked better as best friends. Ronnie had gone on to meet and marry Karen, and Amber had thrown herself into her work. In reality, it would have been hard to have had a relationship anyway because, at the time, Ronnie had been playing for a Manchester club and Amber had been based in Newcastle. So best friends it had stayed, and Amber was glad of that because she needed him around as her friend. Which, in a way, made it quite a strange feeling, having him touch her like this after so long, but at the same time, it felt safe and familiar. And that’s what she needed right now. Something safe and familiar.

She gasped out loud as his fingers slid down from her breasts, trailing over her stomach, down to a place he hadn’t been in a long time, but Amber was quite happy to welcome him back, moaning quietly as he touched her gently, his own groans matching hers as the intensity built.

She could feel her heart racing, so fast it was almost making her dizzy. She hadn’t had sex with anyone for so long and it felt good to be able to let go, to have that sweet release, and it felt even better to be sharing it with a man she trusted, rather than some random person she’d picked up just for the hell of it. How Ryan Fisher could possibly get any kind of satisfaction from doing that, she had no idea. Jesus, why was she even thinking about Ryan Fisher? But she knew why. She knew exactly why, and she really didn’t want to think about him, so she pushed him very firmly to the back of her mind, concentrating totally on what was happening here, with Ronnie.

She hadn’t realised how much she’d missed sex until now, and in a way Amber wondered if that had anything to do with the fact she’d been so uptight lately. Right now, though, she felt anything but uptight as Ronnie lifted her up, and she quickly wrapped her legs around his waist as he pushed into her with a force she welcomed, backing her right up against the wall. She wanted it hard and rough, she didn’t want gentle or careful. She wanted to feel every move he made, every push he gave as he thrust deeper into her, and even though it was over far quicker than Amber would have liked, it had given her a taste for something she hadn’t realised she’d missed quite so much.

But it also made her realise something else. Something that didn’t make her feel comfortable or safe, and it certainly wasn’t something she wanted to dwell on. But it was real, and she had a feeling that it wasn’t going to go away, no matter how many times she slept with Ronnie or tried to forget it wasn’t happening. It wasn’t going to go away. She’d let Ryan Fisher get to her. And Amber had no idea how she was going to deal with that.

Chapter Four

The sun was shining and the sky was blue, but Ryan wasn’t in the mood to be cheerful. He’d gone to bed alone, even though that hadn’t been his intention when the evening had started. He’d wanted to party with his teammates, see what his hometown had to offer up in the way of women, and then bring one or two back to play with. That’s how last night had started out, and yet here he was, waking up by himself, feeling like crap. And he hadn’t even drank that much.

Walking out into the vast back garden of his temporary home, Ryan knew he had to get out of there. He was stuck in middle-class suburbia, surrounded by doctors and bankers and wealthy accountants with their two cars and their privately-educated children and it felt stifling. This wasn’t where he belonged. Oh, he was grateful to the club for giving him a place to stay, but he needed to move on, needed to find his own place, and fast. He’d give Max a call; get him to line up some riverside apartments for him to look at closer to the city. That was much more his kind of thing. Whereas this wasn’t. This screamed weekend dinner parties and Sunday mornings mowing the lawn or washing the car, and whilst that may be fine for some people, a life like that terrified Ryan.

Sitting down under the shade of a canopy that covered the patio, he threw his head back and closed his eyes, the image of Amber Sullivan in that figure-hugging black dress and those killer red heels filling his brain. It was an image that had been there all night, he couldn’t shake it. He’d gone to sleep thinking about her and woken up with the same thought still running through his head, accompanied by a hard-on he’d had to deal with all on his own. He wanted to know what she felt like. He wanted to know if she felt as uptight and rigid as she seemed to come across. He couldn’t help smiling as he thought how that could actually be a plus point, where sex was concerned. The more uptight the better. Shit! Ryan wasn’t used to having one woman on his mind. On the rare occasions when he’d actually had a girlfriend, none of the relationships had ever lasted all that long because he just couldn’t concentrate on one woman at a time. And why should he? He had this incredible opportunity to play a field bigger than Wembley and he was sure as hell going to make the most of that opportunity. What man in his position would turn it down? Well, quite a few, actually. Ryan knew a lot of players who’d settled down with the ‘right’ woman, got married, had kids, given up the partying to concentrate on a more conventional life. But that just wasn’t for him. Not yet. At least, not just yet. But then, was that only because he hadn’t yet managed to meet his own ‘Miss Right’?

Come on! What the hell was he thinking? Settling down, getting married, having kids, they were things that were still way off in the future. So what if he couldn’t stop thinking about one woman in particular? What was so wrong with that? Amber Sullivan was different, that was all. He never usually went for the older woman, but she gave no man any other choice but to take notice of her. And she’d looked as hot as hell last night. It was almost like she was two different women – the professional, uptight sports reporter who gave off attitude and a look that could break your balls, and the red-haired vamp who oozed sex appeal the like of which Ryan hadn’t seen in a long time. It was one hell of a turn-on, and he knew that if he didn’t get to sleep with that woman soon it was going to kill him. He wanted to go where others had failed. Many before him had tried, but he wanted to be the one to succeed. So far, the only footballer she’d ever slept with, to his knowledge, had been Ronnie White, but Ryan was going to change that. He’d make it his mission.

Amber Sullivan may be oblivious to him right now, but he’d find a way to thaw that ice-cold exterior. She’d give in, he knew she would. She’d give in. And she’d give in soon. Ryan Fisher was up for the challenge, but he didn’t play the long game. He was going straight for the goal, and there was no doubt in his mind that he was going to score.

‘Shit, Ronnie, I’m sorry,’ Amber sighed, opening her eyes and rolling onto her back. ‘I’m not sure last night should have happened.’

‘Oh, I don’t know about that,’ Ronnie smiled, lying on his side, resting up on his elbow as he looked at her. ‘You promised me you’d show me you could let yourself go, but even I have to admit I wasn’t expecting that to be quite the way you meant.’

Amber turned to look at him, giving him a small half-smile back. ‘No. Can’t say I was expecting that, either.’

‘So, what made you suddenly decide you wanted some of the old Ronnie White magic, then? You been missing it, huh?’

She couldn’t help laughing, because she knew he wasn’t being serious. ‘Yeah, sure. It’s all I’ve been able to think about for the past heaven knows how many years.’

‘Yep. I’ve still got it,’ Ronnie sighed, sitting up and stretching out, quickly winking at Amber before he slid out of bed.

Amber watched as he walked into the en-suite, naked and handsome and still as fit as he had been when he’d been playing professionally. But they’d never get back together as a couple. They’d never go there again. She knew that, and Ronnie knew that. Last night had been a bit of fun. She’d needed it to take her mind off something that had been niggling away at her all day yesterday, and it was back to niggle away at her again today. With a vengeance. She’d known it wouldn’t go away, she’d known last night had been nothing but a temporary measure, even though she’d hoped she’d wake up thinking that, whatever had been going round in her head yesterday, it had been nothing but a silly error of judgement. A stupid lapse of rational thinking. She had self-enforced rules she wanted to play by, and it was up to her to make sure she didn’t stray from those. What had happened with Ronnie had been an exception, of course. The one and only exception.

Slipping out of bed, she wrapped her robe around herself and walked over to the window. She loved the view she had from the back of her modest, semi-detached house on the outskirts of Newcastle-upon-Tyne. It was a view that could almost lead you to believe that you were anywhere but a few miles from the city centre. With green fields stretching as far as the eye could see, it felt more like the countryside than a suburban village, and that’s what Amber loved about it. It was peaceful, yet just a few minutes’ drive from work and less than half an hour from the coast. She’d bought the house not long after she’d started working at News North East and over the years she’d slowly made it her own, so much so that she couldn’t see a time when she’d ever want to leave. She had a life she loved, a career she’d worked hard for, and a home she adored. What else could she possibly need?

Walking downstairs and into her cosy kitchen, she filled the kettle and sat down on the brown suede sofa next to the French doors that led out onto a small patio area. She liked to call the sofa ‘lived in’, whereas some people would probably call it tatty, but she’d had it for years and it was probably the most comfortable piece of furniture she owned, so she had no intention of getting rid of it just yet. It was where she spent most mornings, sitting on that sofa, watching the sun come up with a huge mug of tea, thinking about the day ahead and what it might bring – just like she was doing now, although the tea hadn’t yet arrived. The sound of the kettle boiling told her it wasn’t far away, though. And exactly what was today going to bring? Amber pulled her knees up and hugged them to her chest, resting her chin on them, looking out over her simple yet pretty garden as the sun began to sweep across it.

She wondered what Ryan Fisher was doing right now. Was he waking up with yet another young and beautiful stranger in his bed, ready to pack her off out into the cold light of day, marking her down as nothing but another conquest he’d managed to notch up? Another disappointed young woman whose dreams of becoming that glamorous footballer’s wife would now have to rest with someone else? Because it seemed apparent that Ryan Fisher didn’t do commitment. And why would he? He was a twenty-six-year-old professional footballer with the world at his feet.

Amber threw her head back and sighed heavily, closing her eyes as she listened to Ronnie padding about upstairs. Sometimes she wondered if her life would have been simpler if she and Ronnie had just got it together, stayed a couple. Who’s to say what might have happened? But it would never have worked. She had absolutely no desire to be a footballer’s wife. Not even Ronnie’s. She couldn’t do it. It just wasn’t her.

The sound of the kettle switching off brought her back to reality and she opened her eyes, jumping up off the sofa to fill the teapot, sliding two slices of bread into the toaster, even though she was anything but hungry. Her head was spinning with thoughts she couldn’t seem to shake off, feelings she wasn’t used to experiencing, and it frustrated her because it was almost as if she couldn’t control them, which she couldn’t. Not really. If she could control them then she could stop them from infiltrating her usually rational and sensible brain, and that just wasn’t happening today. But, the scariest thing of all, and it was something that Amber still couldn’t quite get her head around, was that she couldn’t stop thinking about Ryan Fisher.

‘I like it,’ Ryan smiled, spinning 360 degrees on his expensive trainers as he took in the vast space that surrounded him. ‘I like it a lot.’

‘It’s the first one you’ve seen,’ Max said, leaning back against the breakfast bar and folding his arms, watching as Ryan spun around again, looking like a kid in a toy store who’d just been given free rein to play with anything he wanted. Mind you, as far as Max was concerned, professional footballers like Ryan were no different, in reality. On the kind of money some of them earned they really could have anything they wanted and bugger the price. Which is what was happening here, with Ryan. He wanted a place of his own, money was no object, therefore he could live anywhere he wanted without so much as a thought as to what it might be costing. Max doubted very much whether Ryan – along with most of the other footballers he had on his books – actually had any real idea of how much things cost, anyway. Whatever they wanted – be it a new car, a holiday or, in Ryan’s case, a new home – they could have it just by asking someone to find it for them.

‘So why waste time trailing round other places when I’ve already found the one I want?’ Ryan pointed out, nudging Max out of his daydream about a quiet, footballer-free retirement in Monaco.

‘This is the one you want, then, is it?’ Max asked, already pulling his phone out of his jacket pocket, ready to call the estate agent who was waiting downstairs in the lobby.

‘Yeah… Why not?’ Ryan grinned, looking out at the view of the river, the famous Tyne Bridge just a stone’s throw away. He could even see Red Star’s Tynebridge Stadium in the distance. This place was perfect. There was a resident’s gym and swimming pool downstairs, private car parking, a concierge service, and the best thing of all – it was close to the city centre bars, clubs and restaurants he still had yet to explore. Yes, this was much more Ryan Fisher, not that vast detached house way out in the country. This was what Ryan called a home. ‘How soon can I move in?’

‘Give me a chance, kiddo. I’ve got to talk to the agent yet… Oh, yeah, this is Max Mandell, Ryan Fisher’s agent… Yeah, he wants the apartment…’

Ryan left Max to make the deal and walked out onto the balcony, shielding his eyes from the late-summer sun as he looked out across the city. It was good to be home, in a funny kind of way. But he still couldn’t help wondering if he ever would have returned back here if this move hadn’t been borne out of some kind of necessity. Because, in reality, the decision to return to the North East wasn’t one he’d made because he’d been missing his roots. Far from it. He’d had to leave London. He’d had to. He couldn’t stay there any more, even though his club had done everything in their power to try and keep him. But circumstances and events had seen to it that Ryan had been left with no choice but to return back up north and leave the bright lights and the London lifestyle behind him. Because it was exactly that which had led to him needing to leave in the first place.

‘Next Monday,’ Max said, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

‘Huh?’ Ryan asked, turning round and leaning back against the balcony railings as Max joined him outside.

‘You can move in next Monday. The agent’s on his way up with papers for you to sign, and I’ll organise the finances, okay? Get everything transferred for you.’

‘Yeah. Yeah, thanks, Max.’ Ryan suddenly felt a little bit dizzy. It was all real now, wasn’t it? The moving back home, the brand new club, a fresh start. If it could be a fresh start, that is. Because Ryan had no idea how this was going to pan out. Not really. Nobody did. But it was a risk he’d had to take.

‘You okay?’ Max asked, the look on Ryan’s face not escaping him. He’d been with the kid for far too long not to notice these things. Max had a kind of unwritten rule to stay away from close personal relationships with his clients, but Ryan was different. He actually cared about this one. Maybe it was the northern solidarity thing – Max was a Lancashire lad through and through – or maybe it was just that, sometimes, he could see beneath that cocky exterior Ryan liked to hide behind.

Ryan nodded, looking at Max. ‘This is all going to be alright, isn’t it, Max?’

Max shoved his hands in his pockets, looking down at the ground as he spoke. ‘We did the right thing, Ryan. Coming here.’ He looked up at his young client. ‘We did the right thing. You needed a new start.’

Ryan turned back around, staring down at the murky river below him. ‘It was my fault, though. Wasn’t it? I should have…’

‘It happened, Ryan. You weren’t the first and you certainly won’t be the last, but it’s over now, okay? It’s over, it’s sorted. The rest is up to you.’

Ryan smiled at his agent, a man who’d become more like a second dad to him. He knew for a fact that, without Max, his career would be all but over, so he had no intention of messing things up a second time.

‘Thanks, Max. I owe you.’

Max just gave him a look that spoke volumes and walked back inside the apartment, leaving Ryan in no doubt that Max was right. He had done the right thing in coming here. Now all he had to do was make sure he didn’t regret it.

‘No Ronnie today?’ Kevin asked, perching himself on the edge of Amber’s desk.

She looked up at him, leaning back in her chair. ‘We’re not joined at the hip, y’know. And he’s not here for a holiday. He’s got work to do. Especially with the transfer window closing tomorrow night, and then Red Star’s televised match on Saturday.’

‘I’m just making conversation,’ Kevin said, checking his phone as a text message pinged its arrival. ‘Anyway, I want you there on Saturday, too. At Tynebridge. It’s big news, what with Ryan Fisher’s debut and Jim Allen’s first match in charge, so I’m sending you to cover it.’

‘Yeah, okay. Fine,’ Amber replied, turning back to her laptop.

‘I know it’s okay. It’s your job,’ Kevin said, sliding down from her desk. ‘I wasn’t giving you a choice. You’re the Sports Editor, not to mention my best reporter, so obviously you’re going to cover the game. We’re looking for a big piece to put out on Monday’s show.’ He started to walk back towards his office before turning back around and looking at Amber, his hands in his pockets. ‘And anyway, you seem to have a way with Ryan Fisher that I can’t imagine any of the others would have.’

Amber swung round in her chair, fixing her producer with a look. ‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’

‘He fancies the arse off you, Amber. That’s what that’s supposed to mean. He’s been talking a lot about you, apparently. And because of that he’s quite happy to talk to you.’

‘Not sexist in the least, huh, Kevin?’

‘I couldn’t give a fuck, Amber. Just get used to hanging around him, okay?’

‘Yeah, thanks for that,’ Amber muttered, turning back around to face her laptop, her train of thought now completely lost. She didn’t know whether that comment from Kevin had angered or flattered her. The idea that somebody more than ten years younger than her fancied the arse off her, as Kevin had so eloquently put it, of course it was going to be a bit of an ego-boost. But Ryan Fisher was a footballer, and Amber didn’t do footballers. Especially those so much younger than she was, which accounted for a fair chunk of them. So why was he still on her mind? It was ridiculous. It was just an ego-trip, nothing else. He’d shown some interest in her last night, flirted with her, even, and she couldn’t help but be flattered by that. After all, she was within spitting distance of turning forty, so who wouldn’t be flattered by the attentions of a younger man? Especially one as good-looking as Ryan Fisher.

Aware that she could quite possibly have some kind of uncharacteristically ridiculous expression on her face, Amber grabbed a pile of papers that needed to be taken down to the main reception and took the opportunity to escape the confines of the Sports Desk for a while.

‘Hey, Amber.’ Tracy, News North East’s receptionist, smiled at her as she arrived at her desk in the main lobby of the building. ‘You taking a break? Do you want a coffee?’

‘The answer to both those questions is yes, thank you, Tracy. And these are for you.’

‘Oh, thanks. I was just about to send someone up to get those.’

‘Saved you a trip, then,’ Amber smiled, leaning against the reception desk as Tracy disappeared into a back room to get her coffee. ‘Anything or anyone interesting pass through those doors today?’

‘Not really,’ Tracy replied, reappearing with a steaming mug of coffee for Amber. ‘Ooh, except Ryan Fisher, that is.’

‘Ryan Fisher?’ Amber frowned, taking the coffee Tracy held out and blowing on it to cool it down. ‘What’s he doing here?’

Tracy shrugged, sitting herself back down behind the huge oval reception desk. ‘He didn’t say. Just gave me that gorgeous smile of his and said he was popping up to the Sports Desk. I’m surprised you didn’t pass him on your way down. He only arrived a few seconds before you came down here.’

Amber said nothing, just blew on her coffee again, more as a distraction than anything else. ‘No. I didn’t see him.’ For some reason she just couldn’t explain – or maybe she could, but she was too scared to admit it – she began to feel a touch unsettled. Her mind wandered back to yesterday; what Ronnie had said to her at the training ground, seeing Ryan in the bar last night. Ever since Ryan Fisher had arrived on the scene she’d felt slightly preoccupied, and it would be a lie if she tried to tell herself that she had no idea why. She had every idea why. She just didn’t want to admit it. Or tell Ronnie he was right. Well, sort of right, anyway.

‘Are you okay?’ Tracy asked, breaking into Amber’s thoughts.

Amber looked up, immediately shaking herself back to reality. ‘Yeah, sorry. I’m fine. I’ve just remembered, there’s something I need to do, that’s all. I’d better get back up to the Sports Desk. Thanks for the coffee.’

‘Don’t mention it,’ Tracy smiled, but Amber was already at the lift, half running half walking as she tried to get back to her desk before – before, what? Before Ryan Fisher left? Was she really thinking that way? When had she turned from sensible, grown-up sports reporter to simpering fan-girl? But she really needed to see him, if only to get something straight in her own mind. Which was why she picked up the pace once the lift reached the Sports Desk on the third floor, although she was doing her best to look calm and not bothered in the slightest that one of the country’s most famous and fanciable footballers was in the building. Why should she care, anyway?

Walking purposefully towards her desk in the corner of the room, Amber couldn’t stop her heart from beating hard against her ribs as she noticed somebody sitting in her chair, leaning back with his feet up on her desk. Feet that were covered by trainers that he’d doubtless not paid a penny for but had been given gratis purely because the publicity he could generate just from wearing them was priceless.

‘Someone to see you, Amber,’ Kevin said as he walked past, flinging his jacket over his shoulder. ‘And be nice, okay? He’s come here especially to see you. I think he’s taken a bit of a shine to you, kiddo, so you might want to try a bit of flirting, y’know, see if you can get something out of him that nobody else is getting.’

‘Can we please stop going down the overtly sexist route, Kevin? It’s so offensive it’s making me feel quite queasy. And what do you mean, he’s taken a bit of a shine to me? You make me sound like a second-hand car.’

‘I couldn’t give a flying fuck what I’m making you sound like, Amber. All I’m saying is, if you get close to Ryan Fisher then we – as the North East’s leading local news programme – could have access to breaking news on the football front before anyone else. Do you see what I mean?’

‘Have you always been this prehistoric in your views on women reporters and I’ve just had blinkers on for the past heaven knows how many years?’ Amber couldn’t help throwing a glance over towards the corner of the room, where Ryan was still sitting in her chair, his feet still on her desk as he concentrated on his mobile phone. She was almost shocked at her own reaction; the way her heart missed that stupid and clichéd beat, her stomach flipping over, and that was just from looking at the back of his head. She had a real fear of her knees giving way the second he turned around. Was this really happening to her? Thirty-seven-years-old and acting like a teenager. Two days ago she would have thought this behaviour hilarious, and something she would never have indulged in. But then, two days ago, Ryan Fisher hadn’t been on the scene. ‘What’s he want to see me for, anyway?’ Amber asked, trying not to sound bothered.

Kevin shrugged, looking at his watch. ‘No idea.’ He looked straight at her, smiling a wide smile and throwing her a wink. ‘Just be nice to him. Alright?’

Amber sighed as she tried not to smile back at her pain-in-the-arse producer. ‘Like I’d be anything else.’

‘You’re a true professional, Amber. Right, I’m off to meet Ronnie for a drink, seeing as you hijacked him last night.’

‘Jealous?’ Amber smirked, now itching to get away and see what Ryan wanted.

Kevin just pulled a face and walked off in the direction of the lift.

Amber waited a few seconds, just so she could compose herself, really. Something else she wasn’t used to doing – composing herself. Amber Sullivan was usually ready for anything. But not this.

Taking a deep breath, she quickly ran a hand through her long, dark red hair and strode over to her desk by the window, kicking the seat of her swivel chair so it spun round to face her, knocking his feet off her desk in the process.

‘What are you doing here?’ she asked, that hard exterior making a comeback, belying everything she was really feeling inside. Because, inside, she was feeling all mushy and mixed-up like some star-struck wannabe WAG, but she didn’t want him to see that. She wanted him to be on the receiving end of the full-on, couldn’t-care-less attitude.

Ryan grinned at her. Yeah, he was right. Last night she might have been that sexy sports reporter that wet dreams were made of, but today she was right back to her uptight self. ‘Where’d you get off to last night, then?’ he asked, still leaning back in her chair like he owned the place. And he could probably afford to.

‘Not altogether sure that’s any of your business,’ Amber replied, his arrogant attitude still one she couldn’t quite get her head around. But, oh God, he looked so hot sitting there with that sexy, messed-up hair, his tattooed arms hard and toned in a white t-shirt that showed off his tanned skin to perfection. Shit! Her heart was going ten-to-the-dozen here, what the hell was wrong with her? She fancied him; that‘s what was wrong with her. Ronnie was right – the bastard! She wished he wasn’t, and she’d spent the past day or so trying to deny it and pretend he was so far from the truth it was laughable, but she’d only been kidding herself. There was something about Ryan Fisher that was gradually knocking down all her well-built defences, and there was nothing she could do about it. But he really didn’t need to know that. Despite everything she’d told herself, she was finding his arrogance and bare-faced cheek one hell of a turn-on. ‘I’ll ask you again – what are you doing here?’ But she still had to keep up the cold-bitch act. For now.

‘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 coupé, he entered the postcode into his satnav, 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 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 hardworking 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 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 think this ice-queen can take on the arrogant prick any time.’

‘You think so?’

‘I know so.’

She felt herself burning up, the heat from his body making her head spin. He was so close now she could feel the electricity practically fizzing between them. One glass of wine couldn’t be having that much effect, surely, could it?

And then, before she had a chance to draw another breath, his hand was in the small of her back, pushing her against him, his mouth covering hers in a hard, fast kiss that took her completely by surprise for some reason. Considering it had obviously been building up to that for the past few seconds. But it didn’t take long for her to lose what few inhibitions she had left, falling against him as the kiss got deeper and harder, the taste of him overwhelming her with feelings she’d kept repressed for so long that even sleeping with Ronnie last night hadn’t managed to quell them.

It was like the release she’d been waiting for ever since she’d set eyes on him just a couple of days ago. The sexual tension that had been building ever since that initial interview was now being allowed to come to the forefront, cut itself loose, and as Ryan pushed her down onto the sofa, his fingers pushing her dress up over her thighs, hurriedly pulling down her underwear and discarding it like unwanted rubbish, she felt unusually liberated. Maybe she had been uptight for too long. Nobody could accuse her of that now, though, could they?

Stretching her arms up above her, she closed her eyes as he slid her dress up over her head, removing her bra in one swift movement, his mouth immediately lowering down to cover one of her breasts. It was a strangely warm and comforting feeling, and Amber arched her back, her arms still up above her head, almost pushing herself at him, but hey, she was in this too deep now, wasn’t she? It was a bit late to hit the reverse button. But, oh, it felt so good, so fucking good as his fingers stroked her naked skin, running over her thighs, up to her breasts, every touch sending a million tiny tingles coursing through her entire body.

And that feeling ended only briefly whilst he discarded his own clothes, and Amber watched as that young, toned, incredibly fit body became visible in front of her, in all its naked glory. No wonder the women fell at his feet. He wasn’t even her usual type – she never had gone for the six-pack and bicep brigade before – but there was something about this man that was making her confused and excited all at the same time. She couldn’t just ignore that, could she? She was only human after all.

Ryan was trying desperately not to let the hard-on he’d found difficult to hold off from exploding way sooner than he wanted it to, but it was killing him. It was almost painful, so desperate was the need to get inside her. But he didn’t want to come across as some stereotypical fuck-’em-and-run footballer, which he’d been more than guilty of in the past. So why was this any different? Trying to answer that question was enough to keep that ultimate release at bay for just a little while longer as he continued to thaw the ice-queen. And it hadn’t taken long. He wouldn’t call her a pushover – not to her face, anyway – but she hadn’t exactly put up much of a fight. And he wasn’t complaining. Just because she’d been a slightly easier conquest than he’d first anticipated didn’t make this any less enjoyable. So far he was having the ride of his life, enjoying taking his time to explore a body the like of which he hadn’t seen in a long time. He was used to fake tans, false tits, and more make-up than was absolutely necessary, but Amber Sullivan was in a different league. She was curvy in the true sense of the word, with wide hips, a perfect, small waist and the most amazing breasts he’d ever set eyes on. And they were all her own. Her thighs were hard and toned, and she had a body you could actually get hold of, rather than the skin-and-bone bodies of girls who thought that being thin was the be-all and end-all of looking good. It wasn’t. He’d never really liked that look of being able to see a girl’s ribs whilst two ridiculous-sized false ‘footballs’ were stuck to her chest, making her look entirely out-of-proportion. Amber Sullivan was a real woman. Amber Sullivan was sexy and beautiful – and real.

He ran his fingers gently over her stomach, down to her inner thighs, watching as she slowly opened her legs wider, giving him a perfect view of heaven. Shit! He was sure he was breaking out in a sweat – Ryan Fisher, stressing out over sex with a woman. But no ordinary woman. Not this one.

He knelt up, sliding his arms around her waist, gently pulling her up so she was sitting astride him, her legs automatically wrapping themselves around him as he gave in to what he’d been wanting to do ever since he’d got there – he was about to show her that Ryan Fisher could be just as talented off the pitch as he was on it.

Amber held onto him tightly as she finally felt him enter her, pushing herself down onto him as he pushed in deeper. It was a feeling she couldn’t even begin to describe, that warm and beautiful tingle she was so familiar with now intensified tenfold as their bodies became one, moving in almost perfect rhythm together. She’d never meant to take it this far, yet from the second she’d seen him sitting there in the Press Lounge in the Tynebridge Stadium the day of their first meeting, she’d always known something was going to happen between them. She just hadn’t been sure what. But this was fine, this was okay. This was better than okay.

She held onto him tighter as the rhythm they’d created became faster, harder, building up to a crescendo of a climax that surprised even Ryan, her body shuddering in his arms as he finally felt his own release sweep through every inch of him. Jesus, that felt good! He couldn’t speak, so hard was his breathing, but as he looked at her, into those pale blue eyes of hers, he had realised that, although he’d finally been the one to conquer this ice-queen, the one to make her break her own ‘no footballers’ rule, he didn’t care about that anymore. All thoughts of running back to the lads tomorrow morning at training to give them every tiny detail of how he’d turned her from cold and uptight into hot and horny, all those thoughts had disappeared. He had no intention of doing that now, even though he’d had every intention of doing it before.

‘You can’t stay the night,’ Amber said, suddenly feeling as though she’d just sobered up from one hell of a heavy night out.

It took Ryan a few seconds to get his head together before he realised she was already pulling her clothes back on, running her fingers through that sexy, dark red hair of hers. He’d never been one for those post-sex cuddles that women always seemed to like, yet he couldn’t help but feel disappointed that she was up and off him in what had to be record-quick time. That was usually his trick.

‘Yeah. Yeah, okay,’ Ryan said, slightly confused by what was happening now.

‘So?’

He looked at her as he hurriedly pulled on his own clothes, still unable to shake that disappointed feeling. ‘So, what? You… you want me to go now?’

She nodded, standing by the fireplace, her arms folded, her eyes unable to meet his.

‘Jesus…’

‘Please, Ryan.’

He stood up and walked over to her, reaching out to gently touch her cheek, and even though he’d half expected her to flinch away from him, she didn’t. She stayed right where she was, but she still couldn’t look at him.

‘You’re something else, Amber. Do you know that?’ Ryan said, stepping away from her and making his way to the door.

She finally looked at him as he walked out of the living room, closing her eyes as she heard the front door close behind him. But even then, she knew it was too late. Amber Sullivan had let her guard down. Worst case scenario.

Chapter Six

Ryan could feel the atmosphere from the stadium outside before he even reached the tunnel; the noise and the music and the excited cheers from the thousands of fans who’d turned up to see how the returning local hero was going to fit into this beloved club of theirs. He could hear it all the second they’d stepped out of the dressing room, the decibel level rising with each step of the short walk to the tunnel. He had a lot to prove, and he knew the pitfalls that would be waiting for him if he managed to stuff up his debut appearance.

He could feel his heart racing, his stomach turning in a mixture of excited and nervous somersaults, the noise of the crowd reaching a crescendo as both teams finally approached the tunnel, standing still for a few seconds side-by-side, hands behind their backs as they took in the sheer wall of sound that seemed to reverberate around the stadium outside.

Ryan smiled as a couple of his new teammates patted him on the shoulder and wished him good luck, whilst a player on the opposing team whom he’d never got along with threw him an altogether different expression that conveyed the hope that he’d break a leg or smash a shin bone. Ryan ignored him. Nothing like that was going to get to him today. Today he was focused, totally on his game, ready to prove that he was going to deliver everything he’d promised.

He closed his eyes and said a silent prayer, opening them quickly as more music blared out from the stadium tannoy system signalling the players’ cue to run out and get this match underway. And as Ryan jogged out of the tunnel, out onto a perfect pitch, the roar of the crowd was almost deafening. But it was exactly that which gave him the will to play this game to the best of his ability. It was that feeling only a stadium-full of football fans could give a player like him – a feeling of absolute determination not to let them down. He’d do it for them, and show them he was worth every single penny of those multi-million pounds this club had forked out for him. Ryan Fisher was home.

‘There’s no doubt about it, the guy can play football,’ Ronnie said, leaning against the small corner bar in the Players’ Lounge as the post-match crowd started to drift in. Everybody from journalists and sports reporters to pundits, players’ wives, friends and girlfriends would congregate in the Players’ Lounge to dissect the match, catch up with people they hadn’t seen in a while or, in the case of some of those aforementioned wives and girlfriends, bitch about somebody’s ill-advised choice of shoes, hairdo, or personalised number plate on their brand new, salmon-pink Range Rover.

‘Are you expecting somebody?’ Ronnie asked, taking a much-looked-forward-to sip of cold beer. He’d just spent the best part of two hours stuck in a commentary box and he was parched. The cups of tea he’d been given during the game just weren’t going to cut it anymore.

‘Hmm? Sorry?’ Amber said, turning to face him. ‘Did you say something?’

‘You keep looking at that door as if you’re expecting somebody to come through it.’

‘No I don’t.’ Amber frowned, her voice a touch more defensive than she’d wanted it to be.

‘Yeah. You do,’ Ronnie went on, taking another sip of beer. ‘So, when did you sleep with him, then?’

Amber almost choked on her lager. ‘Jesus Christ, Ronnie! How the hell do you know I’ve slept with Ryan Fisher?’

‘I didn’t,’ Ronnie said, leaning back against the bar again. ‘But you’ve just admitted it now.’

‘Shit! I hate you, do you know that?’ She took a long drink of lager. ‘Thursday night, if you must know.’

‘And you haven’t spoken to him since?’

‘Only when I grabbed a few words with him seconds after the match for News North East. Professional capacity only. In front of the camera wasn’t really the right time to discuss our sex life.’

‘So, you’ve got one, then?’

‘Got what?’ Amber asked, still somewhat distracted.

‘A sex life. Me on Wednesday night, Ryan Fisher on Thursday…’

‘You’re making me sound like some kind of slapper. It wasn’t like that.’

‘Well,’ Ronnie sighed. ‘I don’t want to say I told you so, kiddo…’

‘Then don’t. Because it was me who sent him packing, if you must know.’

Ronnie looked at her, frowning slightly. ‘Huh?’

‘He came to see me at work, I invited him round to my place, he looked hot – he looked really hot, actually – we had sex, then I told him to go. Simple as that.’

‘Why?’ Ronnie asked, wanting to ask so many questions but thinking better of it. She didn’t look as though she was in the mood for the Spanish Inquisition.

Amber looked over towards the door again, not caring that she was making it obvious now. ‘I got scared. I let my guard down, and I let it down in front of Ryan fucking Fisher, of all people.’ She took another drink of lager and slammed her glass down on the bar, putting her head in her hands. ‘Jesus, Ronnie. What have I done? I slept with one of the most notoriously arrogant, self-centred footballers there’s ever been, he’s probably told God knows how many people, and now my “no footballers” rule is tarnished forever.’

‘Wasn’t it tarnished the second you slept with me?’

‘You don’t count, Ronnie.’

‘Gee, thanks, Amber,’ Ronnie replied, a touch sarcastically.

‘You know what I mean,’ Amber sighed, suddenly feeling very tired. If the truth be told, she hadn’t really wanted to come to the match today, but she’d had to work, and she was nothing if not professional. Any personal feelings towards Ryan Fisher that she may be experiencing right now had to be pushed aside. She was just having a bit of trouble managing that.

‘Look, Amber, sweetheart. This ridiculous “no footballers” rule that you gave yourself was pointless anyway.’

‘Was it?’ Amber asked, looking up at him sharply. ‘How’s that, then?’

‘Because you’re around them all the time. The law of averages says you’re probably going to end up becoming involved with one at some point in your life.’

‘Well, thank you, Gypsy Rose Ronnie.’

Ronnie pulled a face and Amber poked her tongue out at him, her head turning to check out the door once more in a reaction that was almost reflex-driven by some kind of sixth sense, because just as she turned her head, he walked in. Tall, tanned, handsome and hot. Ryan Fisher. And practically every female in the room stopped what they were doing to stare at him. He had that kind of aura about him. But his eyes had locked straight onto hers, staring at her, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth. A mouth that had been covering her breasts and sending her to heaven only a couple of nights ago. And just the thought of that made her shiver, made her want to turn away and try and forget what she was feeling, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t do it.

‘I’d better go grab a few words with him,’ Amber swallowed, keeping her eyes on Ryan in case he disappeared into a crowd that was quite obviously very pleased to see him. Despite it being called the Players’ Lounge, it wasn’t all that often that any players actually came in there, so when they did they always attracted attention. And Ryan Fisher was hot property today. Hotter than usual, if that was actually possible. ‘On a professional level, of course.’

‘Of course,’ Ronnie said, arching an eyebrow before turning his attention to a fellow pundit who’d just arrived in the lounge.

Amber quickly weaved her way through the growing crowd of people now amassing in the small but comfortable Players’ Lounge, over towards Ryan, who was talking to his new boss. Her heart raced as she tried to adopt her professional stance and forget all about Thursday evening, after all, he probably had. There was no doubt that he’d be moving onto the next conquest at some point tonight when he did the usual footballer’s thing of celebrating a home win with a stupidly expensive night out. And the women, of course, would be queuing up. Shit! Why did that actually bother her?

As she approached Ryan, she accidentally caught the eye of Red Star’s new manager, Jim Allen. He’d come over to the UK from Washington DC over twenty years ago, a young and extremely talented soccer player who’d been lucky enough to play for some of the biggest clubs in the world in his time – including Newcastle Red Star, where he’d spent the final few years of his professional playing career. But he hadn’t just played in England; he’d also spent time in Spain and Germany, not to mention numerous international appearances for his country. He loved the game, and he’d been a great player in his day, but now he was making a name for himself as a pretty successful manager. And to say the Red Star fans had been over the moon when he’d been appointed as the new man in charge of their club was an understatement. Not only had they acquired Ryan Fisher, one of the greatest players around right now, they’d also managed to steal Jim Allen away from one of the biggest, most successful London clubs.

Jim Allen had come into management fairly young – at the age of thirty-five – but he’d already confirmed he was a force to be reckoned with over his thirteen or so years as a manager. Football was in his blood. He’d been a great player, and now he was proving to be an accomplished and well-respected manager; a natural people person, a savvy businessman. And it also didn’t hurt that Red Star had recently been bought out by a large, New York-based consortium who were more than happy to have a fellow American at the helm.

Amber had known Jim a long time, due to the close relationship he had with her father, but he almost always made her feel slightly uncomfortable every time she was around him. And she didn’t really want to be around him right now.

She looked away quickly as he smiled at her, staring down at her feet, her hands in her pockets. ‘Could I have a quick word with Ryan, please? For News North East?’

‘He’s all yours, honey,’ Jim Allen winked, giving her his best smile, and Amber looked away again, this time pretending to root around in her bag for some imaginary object. ‘How’s your old man, by the way? I hear he’s doing okay over there at Bracken Town.’

‘He’s fine,’ Amber replied, still rooting around in her bag, aware that Ryan’s eyes were on her. She could almost feel them boring into the back of her neck.

‘Well, tell him to give me a call, okay? It’s been a while since we’ve had a proper catch-up.’ His eyes met hers again. ‘Yeah… It’s been a long time.’ He turned his attention back to Ryan, leaving him with a friendly slap on the shoulder. ‘Proud of you today, kiddo. Be nice to Amber, okay? She’s a good friend of mine.’ He looked at her again. ‘A very good friend.’

Amber watched Jim leave, almost breathing an inner sigh of relief, before slowly turning round to face Ryan.

‘Not one word since Thursday?’ he asked, his comment, not to mention his tone of voice, taking her completely by surprise. She had no idea it would even have bothered him. She’d given him what he’d wanted, hadn’t she?

‘You’ve been holed up in a hotel since Friday afternoon, Ryan. There was no way to get in touch with you.’

Jim Allen was a great believer in making sure his players had as few distractions as possible before a match. The day before any game – be it home or away – he’d take his team to a hotel, away from everything, away from all outside distractions, and make sure they were focused on nothing but football. No contact of any kind with wives, girlfriends or any family members was allowed – unless it was an emergency, of course. He wanted everyone to think only about the forthcoming match, and nothing else.

‘That’s crap, Amber. We didn’t leave for the fucking hotel until after 3 o’clock…’

Amber quickly switched to professional mode, looking him straight in the eye. ‘Any more thoughts on this evening’s match?’

‘For fuck’s sake, Amber, we’ve already done this… I loved every second of it, the crowd were amazing, the boss is a legend, and I was proud to get a hat-trick on my debut for the club. There. Anything else you need to know? Not one frigging word, Amber.’

‘Hang on, can we rewind a bit here because I’m a touch confused. You are Ryan Fisher, aren’t you? The one who, quite frankly, will sleep with anything that shows him the slightest bit of interest and then prays they never want to see him again once the sex is over? That is you, isn’t it?’

‘You were different, Amber,’ Ryan hissed, trying to keep his voice down, but he was more than agitated that she didn’t seem to care about what had happened between them. Because he did. Oh, he didn’t want to. Jesus, of course he didn’t want to feel that way, but he did. ‘I didn’t want to leave; you do know that, don’t you?’

Amber said nothing at first, just looked at him, searching his handsome face because there was something different about him today that she hadn’t really noticed before. Sincerity? Was that it?

‘I needed you to go, Ryan,’ she whispered. Her stomach felt as though it was tied up in knots, the confusion she’d been feeling since Thursday threatening to overwhelm her again. For so many reasons.

‘Why, Amber? Why did you need me to go? Because you actually enjoyed yourself and were afraid to let anyone know that?’

‘Come on, Ryan. I’d just slept with you – with you, so how do you expect me to react?’

‘What the hell’s that supposed to mean?’

She looked away for a second, looking over at Ronnie who was deep in conversation with a couple of reporters she recognised. ‘I didn’t want to be another conquest, Ryan.’

‘You weren’t. You aren’t.’

She looked at him. ‘Why should I believe you? I mean, you have such a reputation, a reputation that…’

‘That means I couldn’t possibly find someone that makes me feel different?’

Amber stared at him. She just stared at him, because she couldn’t actually think of anything to say.

‘Okay, I have a reputation, I’ll hold my hands up to that,’ Ryan began, staring down at his trainers for a second. ‘And, as you’ve just pointed out, I’ve obviously got a lot of work ahead of me if I ever want to leave that reputation behind.’

‘Why would you want to leave it behind?’ Amber asked, narrowing her eyes as she continued to stare at him. ‘I mean, this is what you do, isn’t it? This is you. This is the way you live your life.’

‘Have you ever thought that I might actually want to give a proper relationship a go?’

Amber couldn’t help laughing. ‘Ha! Come on, Ryan. You’ve tried that before and it just doesn’t work. You don’t really want that…’

‘Hey, do you want to quit telling me what it is I want?’ He ran a hand through his hair, those incredible dark blue eyes of his full of confusion, which only served to make him look twice as handsome, Amber noticed. If that was possible. ‘Look, come out to dinner with me. Tonight.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I like you, Amber. I like being with you, I like the vibes you give off, and I even like the fact you’re a pain in the arse who refuses to give footballers a chance. And I can’t lie – the sex was amazing. Jesus, sweetheart, you have one killer body.’

Amber felt herself blush. What was she? Sixteen?

‘Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want to see me again. Come on. Look me in the eye and tell me that was it, and if you can do that, well…’ He shrugged, ‘… end of story.’

She looked him right in the eye, but she couldn’t say it, could she? Because she wouldn’t mean it. ‘Okay,’ she sighed, rolling her eyes as though accepting a dinner date with Ryan Fisher was the world’s biggest chore, when really she felt elated that he’d told her all those things. Maybe he did deserve that chance she’d denied him on Thursday. ‘Dinner it is. Where?’

‘Franco’s. Do you know it? It’s in town…’

‘Yeah, I know it,’ Amber said, trying not to let the smile she was dying to let loose escape onto her face just yet. She didn’t want him to know she was actually looking forward to seeing him later. ‘I’ll meet you there. Eight-thirty?’

Ryan wasn’t used to women making the decisions quite as forcefully as she did, but on her it was a turn-on. He couldn’t help wondering if she brought that dominating streak into the bedroom, but maybe if he played his cards right tonight he’d find out.

‘Eight-thirty it is,’ he grinned, sticking his hands in his pockets. ‘Looking forward to it.’

Amber just gave him a small smile back then turned and walked away. Ryan had absolutely no idea why this woman had got to him, but she had. Maybe it was because she was just so different to all the other girls he was used to. Maybe it was because she didn’t fall at his feet with the click of a finger. He didn’t know, but whatever it was he wanted to find out more.

‘Great match, lad. You did me proud out there.’

Ryan swung round at the sound of the strong Geordie accent behind him, leaning back against the wall, sighing heavily. ‘Dad.’

‘I thought you would’ve been to see us, Ryan. Your mam’s been looking forward to having her boy back home after all these years.’

‘I’ve been busy.’

‘Too busy to spare a few minutes to come and see your mam and dad?’

Ryan looked at his father. ‘I don’t need the nagging, Dad. Mam treats me like I’m still a kid sometimes.’

‘With good reason, son. Because sometimes you act like it.’

Ryan continued to stare at his dad. ‘Those days are over now. Okay?’

‘I hope you’re right, Ryan. Still, at least you’re back home now. Back where you belong.’

Ryan looked at his dad through slightly narrowed eyes, but said nothing.

‘Your mam’s worried sick about you, lad.’

Ryan threw his head back and sighed again. ‘Jesus…’ He looked straight at his father, running a hand through his dark hair. ‘I’m fine, alright? Everything is just fine.’

‘Is it? After everything…’

‘It’s fine, Dad.’ Ryan’s voice left his father in no doubt that his son didn’t want to take this conversation any further. But that was easier said than done.

‘Your mam always told me that letting you settle in London was a bad idea. She blames me for everything…’

‘Christ, Dad, come on. None of it was your fault. It was nobody’s fault but mine. I got myself into all that shit.’

‘And I hope you’re well out of it now, son. It’s good that you’ve come back home.’

‘Where you can keep an eye on me? Is that it?’

‘If that’s what it takes, Ryan. Yes. I hear you’ve just bought a brand new flat down on the Quayside.’

Ryan looked at his dad, his hands jammed firmly in his pockets, not enjoying this unwelcome interrogation. ‘I need somewhere to live.’

‘The club had given you a perfectly good house to stay in. For as long as you needed it.’

‘I want my own place, okay?’

‘Is the city centre the most sensible choice of location, son? It’s a bit close to…’

‘That house, it wasn’t me,’ Ryan interrupted. ‘I wasn’t comfortable there.’

His father fixed him with a stare that demanded the truth. ‘Are you…?’

‘Am I, what?’ Ryan asked, his stare just as determined.

‘You know what I’m asking, Ryan.’

‘I’m getting there, Dad. That’s all you need to know.’

‘Aye, well, as long as you are, lad. As long as you are.’

‘Do I look alright?’ Amber asked Ronnie as he pulled up at the corner of the street where Franco’s restaurant was situated.

‘You look fine,’ Ronnie replied as he fiddled with his in-car MP3 player.

Amber looked at him. ‘Fine. I look fine?’

Ronnie stared at her. ‘Yeah. You look fine.’

Amber said nothing, just raised her eyebrows and gave him a wide-eyed look. Ronnie shrugged, genuinely confused. ‘What? What do you want me to say? Who the hell am I? Gok frigging Wan? You look great, okay? Is that better?’

Amber still said nothing, just pulled down the visor and checked her face in the small, side-lit mirror, running her tongue over her teeth just in case any pale pink lip gloss had found its way on there.

‘Do you know what you’re doing?’ Ronnie asked, finally finding a playlist he was happy with.

Amber looked at him. ‘Of course I know what I’m doing. I’m having dinner with Ryan Fisher.’

‘You know what I mean. I want to make sure you know just what it is you might be getting into. Although, if you want my opinion…’

‘Which I don’t.’

Ronnie ignored her. ‘If you want my opinion, I don’t think you should be getting into it at all.’

‘I’m not getting “into” anything, Ronnie.’

‘Well, with the greatest of respect, Amber, you already are into something when you sleep with somebody.’

‘So, what does that make our relationship then? Huh? Do you want to explain that one?’

Ronnie looked out of the window for a second. She kind of had him there.

‘No, didn’t think so. Because you can’t, can you? Look, Ronnie, like I said before, I’m not getting “into” anything. I’m just having dinner. That’s all. Ryan and I both know where we stand, and just because we appear to be doing things a little back to front, it doesn’t actually have to mean anything’s going on.’

‘Y’know, you might think you’re all hard-faced and nobody can tell you anything, but you’re still my best friend and I care about you, okay? And, let’s face it, where men are concerned you’re not exactly experienced, are you?’

‘Yeah, thanks for that, Ronnie.’

‘Amber, sweetheart… you said that all of this doesn’t have to mean that anything’s going on, but…’

‘But what?’ Amber asked, looking right into Ronnie’s eyes.

‘But… do you want something to happen? Even just a little bit?’

She sat back in the passenger seat of his black BMW, the dark leather interior cool against her skin. ‘Look, Ronnie, I know I’ve always said I really didn’t want to get involved with footballers, mainly because I assumed you were all like Ryan Fisher. But you proved me wrong, and I think Ryan might actually prove me wrong, too. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just getting softer, but I’m willing to see how tonight goes. People can change, y’know.’

Ronnie raised a concerned eyebrow. ‘You think so, huh? You think someone like Ryan Fisher is just going to change overnight? Don’t go rushing into anything, Amber. Please.’

‘It’s a bit late for that, isn’t it?’ Amber smiled, grabbing her handbag and opening the car door. ‘I mean, like you said before, we’ve already slept together, haven’t we?’

Ronnie gave a resigned sigh, smiling back at her as she leaned in through the open passenger window, blowing him a kiss. ‘Have a good time, kiddo.’

‘I’ll try,’ she winked at him before waving him off, standing still for a few seconds, just to compose herself. Again. She seemed to be composing herself a lot where Ryan Fisher was concerned.

The restaurant was busy when she finally walked in, but then it was Saturday night in the centre of town. She’d never actually been inside Franco’s before, mainly because it was the haunt of local celebrities and footballers and therefore the price range was a little out of her league, but she’d always wondered what it would be like to eat there. She was also one of life’s truly nosy people, and to be able to get a glimpse at the clientele that frequented this famous local restaurant was something she was particularly looking forward to.

Sliding her clutch bag under her arm, she scanned the room as she waited at the front desk for the maitre d’, but she couldn’t see Ryan anywhere. What if he’d had a better offer from someone younger, thinner and blonde? She could do without that kind of kick in the teeth.

‘You look amazing.’

She swung round at the sound of that now-familiar voice, trying to keep the smile off her face as she saw him standing there behind her. Dressed in a dark suit and white shirt, no tie, and that sexy, messed-up hair that he really was carrying off so well, it was all Amber could do to stop a sharp intake of breath from escaping. As usual, Ryan Fisher looked hot. Handsome, sexy, young and dangerous. Cocky, arrogant, selfish and smug. All things that described this man in front of her, but Amber was willing to give him that chance he seemed so set on having. But if he blew it, then she was walking away. No second chances, no lame explanations. She was breaking the biggest rule she’d ever set herself and if he gave her cause to regret that then this was going no further.

‘I was at the bar,’ he went on, his hands in his pockets, a smile on his handsome face. She couldn’t help noticing how sexy that beard of his really was. He suited it. It made her think of a young George Best in his heyday, and then she couldn’t help hoping that he didn’t resemble him in other ways, too. Because she’d heard the stories, listened to the rumours. ‘Do you want a drink before we get settled at our table?’

‘Please,’ Amber smiled, positive she was breaking out in some kind of hot flush. She was only eleven years older than him but she felt like some kind of Mrs. Robinson figure. She felt as if all eyes were on her, which they probably weren’t. But they could quite possibly all be on Ryan. ‘And make it a large one.’

Ryan laughed a deep, almost rough-edged laugh that made Amber’s skin break out in a zillion goose bumps. Was there anything this man did that wasn’t sexy? ‘That kind of day, huh?’

She looked at him as they walked over to the dimly-lit but cosy bar area, the low lighting making him look younger than his twenty-six years. She could only hope it was as kind to her. ‘Not really. I’m just nervous. There, I’ve said it. I’ll have a white wine, please.’

‘Okay. Coming up,’ he said, smiling slightly as he turned to order their drinks. ‘So,’ he went on, turning back to face her, ‘… want to know something? I’m nervous, too.’

‘Really?’ Amber asked, unable to hide the slightly cynical tone in her voice. She did, however, hope that he meant it and he wasn’t just saying it to make her feel better. Although even that would be a really kind thing for him to do. Hang on, had she just described Ryan Fisher as ‘kind’?

‘Yeah, really,’ Ryan replied, handing her a large glass of white wine. ‘Even arrogant, self-centred bastards can get nervous sometimes.’

She took a sip of wine, keeping her eyes on his on all the time. ‘I still find that incredibly hard to believe. Come on, Ryan, you can’t blame me. There’s hardly a week goes by when you’re not in some gossip magazine or showbiz section of some newspaper or other with something that falls into the category of Z-List celebrity hanging off your arm. There was a time when footballers only used to feature on the back pages of newspapers.’

‘You’re not in the least bit cynical, then?’ he asked, although it was purely a rhetorical question. Boy, it was going to be a long haul to get this one on side. She was going to be hard work, but something was telling Ryan she’d be worth it. He hadn’t realised how exciting a bit of a challenge would be until he’d met Amber Sullivan. And maybe she was just what he needed right now – someone to take his mind off everything else.

‘Cynical? Me?’ Amber smiled, taking another sip of wine. ‘As if.’

Ryan smiled, too, holding out his hand. ‘Shall we sit down?’

Amber nodded, slipping her hand into his, her stomach turning a tiny somersault as his fingers curled around hers. It had been a long time since she’d experienced those somersaults, those little stomach flips that told you something exciting might be about to happen. But, as Amber was the eternal pessimist, she never let herself get carried away with such feelings. And she had to remember who she was dealing with here.

‘So, the lure of the post-home-win-celebrations with some of the lads wasn’t grabbing you, huh?’ Amber asked, resting her chin in her hand as she looked at him across the candle-lit table.

Ryan shrugged, giving her that famous smile of his again. ‘I fancied a change.’

‘Oh, so that’s what I am, then? A change. I see…’

‘I didn’t mean it like that…’

‘I know you didn’t,’ Amber smiled. ‘I just wanted to see how genuine you are.’

‘Are you gonna constantly test me like this?’

Amber shrugged. ‘Probably. It takes a lot for me to trust somebody, Ryan. I’ve been around sportsmen too long, believe me. I know what a lot of you are like.’

He leaned forward, keeping his eyes on hers, not willing to break the stare. ‘Do you, though? Do you really? You said yourself you’ve kept away from relationships with footballers in particular, so, if that’s the case, then you only know what you see on the surface – what you read about, what you hear them talking about, and believe me, Amber, there are a few of them out there who like to furnish the truth quite a bit. So, you see, you only think you know what we’re like. You don’t actually know anything.’

‘Don’t I?’

He shook his head. ‘No. You don’t.’

‘How do you know that, huh? You don’t really know anything about me, so how do you know that?’

‘Because, bar your relationship with Ronnie White, you’ve never let yourself get close enough. At least, that’s what you’re leading me to assume. So, what you think you know only scratches the surface in reality, doesn’t it?’

‘You really are arrogance personified, aren’t you?’

‘Look, Amber, all I’m saying is that if you, maybe, stopped being so cynical, tore down those barriers you seem to have built around yourself and just let someone in, you might actually find something there that could change your mind. If you’re willing to give them a chance.’

She wanted to give him a chance. She’d told Ronnie as much, and there was no doubt that she was attracted to him. But she’d spent so long backing away from relationships and concentrating on her career that she didn’t really know what to do next. Or how to handle it all. How the hell did you handle a relationship with somebody like Ryan Fisher? And is that what they were talking about here – a relationship? Is that what was happening? Is that what she wanted? What he wanted?

‘I can pull ’em down, if you like,’ Ryan said, giving her that grin of his.

She couldn’t help smiling back. ‘Pull what down, exactly?’

He sat back, adopting a more-than-casual stance. Cocky, even. But that was just the way he was. The way he chose to showcase himself. And she figured she was just going to have to learn to deal with it if she really wanted to get closer to him.

‘Those barriers of yours,’ he smirked, causing Amber to laugh out loud, against her better judgement. ‘There you go. You’re not such an ice-queen after all, are you?’

‘Jesus, is that how I really come across?’ Amber asked, smiling her thanks at the wine waiter as he topped up her half-empty glass.

‘Sometimes. But, hey, you just need warming up a bit.’

‘Reel it in, will you, Ryan. I get it, okay?’

He looked at her through slightly narrowed eyes. It was all a front as far as he was concerned, this ice-queen image. She was using it as some kind of shield to hide behind, and he should know. ‘I just want to get to know you, Amber. Is that such a bad thing?’

She shook her head, finally allowing herself to feel comfortable with him, although the drink could be helping on that score. But a little bit of help never hurt, did it?

‘No. It’s not a bad thing at all.’

‘Okay. Then, let’s start again, shall we? My name’s Ryan, and I’m pleased to meet you.’

She couldn’t help smiling at him as she felt herself relax. ‘Pleased to meet you, too, Ryan. I’m Amber.’

‘Well hello, Amber.’ He leaned forward, clasping his hands together on the table in front of him. ‘I think you and I are gonna get along just fine, don’t you?’

She leaned forward, too, copying his stance, looking into those deep, almost navy, blue eyes of his. And she had absolutely no reason to argue with that.

Chapter Seven

‘You’re my secret weapon,’ Ryan whispered, his lips close to her ear as he pushed her over onto her back, parting her legs with his knee. ‘My very own lucky charm.’

Amber laughed out loud, throwing her head back as she wrapped her legs around him, the prospect of a few more minutes in bed so much more appealing than another day at the Sports Desk over at News North East. But she was going to have to make a move some time soon, whether she liked it or not. ‘Hmm…’ she groaned, stretching languidly as his mouth covered one of her breasts, his tongue flicking across her naked skin, his rough beard tickling her slightly, which only heightened the shivers that were shooting right through her. ‘I think you might be right. I’m certainly feeling lucky right now.’

He looked at her, those deep-blue eyes of his showing no signs of the little sleep they’d had the night before, whereas Amber was almost dreading looking in the mirror when she finally managed to summon up the enthusiasm to get out of bed.

‘Since I met you, Ms. Sullivan, I’ve scored in every single match I’ve played in, won “Man of the Match” three times, and am currently being lauded as a saint here on Tyneside. They are loving me, baby. Loving me. And you’ve done that.’ He quickly kissed her unsuspecting mouth, an action which Amber was growing to love more and more as each day around Ryan Fisher unfolded. He had the sexiest mouth, and one that could deliver everything from the lightest of touches to the deepest, most erotic kiss she’d ever experienced.

She smiled up at him as he pulled away slightly, that familiar, almost boyish smirk on his handsome face. ‘Oh, come on, Ryan. I’m not sure I can take all the credit for your winning streak.’

‘Well, I can’t deny my incredible talent doesn’t have something to do with it.’

Amber grabbed a pillow and hit him with it, squealing loudly as he grappled the pillow from her hands, pulling her up into his arms.

‘Hey, you don’t want to be injuring this sporting legend now, do you?’ he smirked, his arms falling around her waist as she sat astride him.

‘If I really wanted to injure you, you egotistical pig, I could think of far more interesting ways of doing it.’

‘Oh yeah?’ he asked, arching an eyebrow.

‘Yeah,’ she smiled, closing her eyes and groaning quietly as his mouth once again covered one of her breasts, his tongue sending a million tiny electric shocks coursing through her all at once. ‘Jesus, Ryan, come on. I’m going to be late for work.’

He pushed her back onto the bed again, his hands holding onto her wrists as he pulled her arms up above her head, pinning her down, pushing his way inside her before she had any more chances to protest.

‘Ryan!’ Amber moaned, half of her angry at him for giving her no choice here, and the other half excited that the early morning sex wasn’t quite over yet. She was sure she could smooth things over with Kevin if she did happen to be a little late into the office. ‘You’re such a bastard!’

‘But an incredibly sexy one, huh?’ he grinned, holding tightly onto her wrists as he pushed in deeper, feeling her respond with a thrust of her hips and another long moan.

‘Yeah, alright, I give in. I really am sleeping with God’s gift to the football pitch, aren’t I?’

He gave a low, deep laugh and Amber couldn’t help but laugh, too. She’d tried so hard to fight this relationship with Ryan over the past few weeks, but it was a fight she’d lost in spectacular fashion. He’d reeled her in, and now she was hooked. And making no attempt to wriggle free. He was a breath of fresh air in her usually routine life. He was everything she needed, everything she’d wanted but had been too afraid to go out and get. He was a necessity, and he was becoming a fixture she didn’t really want to let go of just yet.

‘You are such an arrogant prick,’ Amber groaned, closing her eyes and falling back against the pillows as those final few post-sex shivers tingled their way up her body, leaving her slightly breathless but totally satisfied, and more than ready to go and face whatever it was that Kevin had in store for her today.

‘Yeah,’ Ryan sighed, rolling off her and sliding out of bed. As much as he loved being with Amber, he still wasn’t big on the post-sex cuddles. But it seemed she wasn’t all that bothered about them, either. She was fast turning into his perfect woman with that red-hot hair and a figure that was real, in the true sense of the word. Not one thing about Amber Sullivan was false, and she was just one of the many factors that contributed to the fact he was having the time of his life right now. His football was flawless, he was having the best sex he’d had in years, and all he had to do was make sure he kept those demons in check. And he was trying. He was. He was trying really hard. ‘But don’t tell me you don’t find that one hell of a turn-on.’

Amber laughed again, throwing her head back as he ripped the covers away from her naked body before retreating into the en-suite, leaving her to stretch out on his ridiculously huge bed, taking in the view of the River Tyne from the floor-to-ceiling windows that lined one entire wall of Ryan’s bedroom.

Smiling to herself, she sat up and hugged her knees to her chest, still staring out at the early morning rush-hour traffic streaming across the Tyne Bridge as the sun began to rise. The dark skies were slowly turning lighter and she knew she’d have to make a move soon. As much as she’d love to hang around in Ryan Fisher’s bed all day, she had work to do. More’s the pity.

She was just fastening her watch onto her wrist when he walked up behind her, sliding his arms around her waist, his bearded chin resting on her shoulder. ‘You running away from me?’

‘I’ve got a proper job to go to,’ Amber half-smiled, turning her head slightly to kiss him quickly. ‘Unlike you, you part-timer.’

‘Ooh, fighting talk,’ Ryan laughed, squeezing her waist, making her giggle like some star-struck teenager. ‘Maybe you need to spend more time watching me train, huh? See exactly just what it is I do all day.’

She turned round, slipping her arms around his neck as he pulled her against him. ‘I know what you do all day, Ryan. I was brought up around footballers, remember? Although my dad swears blind you all get away with murder these days. He says in his day you wouldn’t have had it so easy.’

‘Oh, I see where you get that fighting talk from now, kiddo. Inherited from daddy, huh?’

She just smiled, kissing him slowly, loving the feel of his half-naked body against her clothed one. She would be the envy of so many women if they knew just how close she’d become to this famous footballer, but for now their relationship was pretty much a secret. Not deliberately so, but they weren’t going out of their way to advertise the fact, either.

‘Don’t work too hard, okay?’ she winked, reluctantly pulling away from him and grabbing her bag from the chair by the door.

‘Am I gonna see you later?’ he asked, a question he wasn’t really used to asking. Usually he called the shots in whatever relationships he was involved in, but this was so different to anything he’d ever been involved in before. And he suddenly felt a little vulnerable. Another unusual feeling in Ryan Fisher’s world.

‘Yeah. If you want to,’ Amber replied, stopping briefly by the door.

‘I want to,’ he smirked, pulling the towel he was wearing from around his waist, giving Amber one last look at something else Ryan Fisher was famous for.

‘Then later it is,’ she winked, closing the bedroom door behind her.

Ryan couldn’t help laughing, running a hand over the back of his neck as he looked down at the floor. She was good for him, Ms. Amber Sullivan. There was no doubt about that. Over the past few weeks he’d managed to break down some of those barriers she’d built up around herself and got to know the woman behind that ice-queen façade. Because that’s all it was. A façade. She was hiding from something, protecting herself from something and he didn’t know what, he wasn’t even sure he cared. He just knew that she was somebody he wanted to spend time with.

Pulling on his jeans and a t-shirt, he bent down to pick up his kitbag, accidentally knocking a jacket off the back of the chair in the process. He turned round quickly as something fell out of the pocket, clattering to the floor, rolling underneath the sideboard. He crouched down, stretching his arm out to pick up the object that had rolled under there, sliding it out across the dark-wood floor. Standing up, he leaned back against the sideboard, turning the rogue casino chip over and over in his fingers. It must’ve slipped into his pocket somehow the other night. Opening a drawer and quickly throwing it inside, he slammed the drawer shut and leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes for a second. He hadn’t wanted to go, he really hadn’t. And he shouldn’t have gone. Max would go spare if he found out, but he was still the new guy at the club and he didn’t want to isolate himself by turning down nights out with the other lads. He wanted to fit in, and as much as Ryan didn’t want to think about it, he knew, deep down inside, that it was his desperate need to fit in that had caused all the shit in the past. But as far as Ryan was concerned, it wasn’t a step backwards. He’d been in control, he hadn’t done anything stupid. It wasn’t going to be like it had been before, so there was no need to panic, no need for anyone’s concern. This time he was completely in control. This time it would be different.

‘How’s it all going, then?’ Ronnie asked, folding his arms as he perched on the edge of Amber’s desk.

She looked at him briefly before continuing to tap away on her keyboard. ‘How’s what all going?’

‘You and Ryan Fisher.’

She swung her chair round to face him, crossing her legs and clasping her hands together in her lap. ‘Keep it down, will you? It isn’t public knowledge yet.’

‘Oh, I see. It’s a secret relationship then, is it?’

‘It’s not like that, Ronnie. We just don’t see the point in broadcasting it, that’s all.’

Ronnie sniffed. ‘That’s unusual, for Ryan. Usually he’s first in the queue to be papped when he’s got a new piece of arm candy to show off.’

Amber couldn’t help laughing. ‘Arm candy? Hardly, Ronnie.’

‘You’re not the usual type Ryan Fisher goes for, I have to say.’

Amber looked at her best friend. ‘Do you want to carry on? Give yourself a few more minutes and you might just get a touch more insulting.’

‘You know what I mean, Amber.’

‘I’m not sure I do, actually. Look, I really think he’s changed, Ronnie.’

‘Jesus, come on, Amber. What do you think you are? Some kind of miracle cure? You’re better than that. The likes of Ryan Fisher don’t change, it isn’t in him.’

‘Well, maybe people like you should try and give him a chance. Stop being so judgemental.’

Ronnie narrowed his eyes, looking at her as though he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. ‘Okay. You’re scaring me now. What’s caused this sudden turn-around in your opinion of one of football’s most arrogant pricks? A couple of dinner-dates and suddenly you think he’s a saint?’

‘Maybe I’ve just learnt not to judge a book by its cover.’

‘Yeah, but it’s not just the cover, though, is it, Amber? It’s backed up by everything that’s inside, too.’

Amber swung back around on her chair and started shutting down her laptop. She was tired and she needed to get home quickly tonight, shower, change, and then get herself over to the Tynebridge Stadium where she was covering a charity dinner for News North East that Newcastle Red Star were throwing. And it may be a night of working that lay ahead, but she still had to look good.

‘Look, Ronnie, it’s just a bit of fun, alright? And, if you remember, it was you who told me I should be having more of that.’

‘Yeah, but I don’t remember telling you to have it with Ryan Fisher.’

Amber smiled at Ronnie as she closed the lid of her laptop and stood up, slipping her coat on and grabbing her bag up off the floor. ‘You jealous?’

‘As if,’ Ronnie smirked, following her as she walked towards the lift that took them down to the underground car park. ‘You’re in a bit of a hurry, aren’t you?’

‘That’s because I’m in a rush. I’ve got to get home, shower, find something glamorous to wear and get my arse down to Tynebridge for seven-thirty. Kevin’s got me covering this charity dinner the club are throwing tonight.’

‘Oh, right. I’m off there, too. Quite a few ex-Red Star players are going to be there, so I gather. Your dad’s going, isn’t he?’

‘Yeah, he is,’ Amber replied, stepping into the lift, closely followed by Ronnie. ‘I wondered why you were back up north again.’

‘Well, somebody’s got to keep an eye on you, obviously,’ Ronnie winked, sticking his hands in his pockets as he leaned back against the wall. ‘So what’s your dad think about you getting involved with Ryan Fisher?’

‘He doesn’t know, yet,’ Amber said, standing by the lift doors as they opened slowly, stepping out into the underground car park, her heels click-clacking across the concrete floor as she walked quickly towards her car.

‘Christ, what have you and Fisher been doing all this time? Non-stop sex and no dates anywhere public?’

‘Pretty much, yeah,’ Amber smirked, flinging her bag into the passenger seat of her little Fiat 500.

‘Are you kidding me? Jesus, I go away for a couple of weeks and you turn into some sex-crazed cougar.’

‘Cheeky sod!’ she laughed, playfully punching his arm. ‘Look, we just didn’t see the point in advertising the fact we’re together, okay? Especially when we don’t really know what’s happening yet.’

‘So, it’s nothing serious, then?’

Amber leaned back against her car, folding her arms. ‘No, Ronnie. It’s definitely nothing serious.’

He stood beside her, copying her stance. ‘Good.’

Amber looked at him. ‘Why do you say that?’

‘Because this is Ryan Fisher we’re talking about here. Remember? And I care about you. I don’t want to see you get hurt.’

‘He won’t hurt me.’

‘Won’t he?’

She fixed Ronnie with a determined stare. ‘No. He won’t.’

Ronnie looked out across the cold and unfeeling car park, his arms still folded across his chest. ‘What about tonight?’

‘What about it?’ Amber asked, looking at her watch. She really was going to have to make a move in a minute or she’d never be ready in time.

‘Are you and Ryan going to spend the entire night avoiding each other so as not to let the cat out of the bag, so to speak?’

Amber shrugged, stepping away from the car and opening the driver-side door. ‘I guess we’ll just have to play that one by ear, won’t we?’

‘Whoa! Freddie Sullivan’s little girl really has grown-up, hasn’t she?’

Amber swung round, finding herself face-to-face with Newcastle Red Star’s new boss, Jim Allen. She’d successfully managed to avoid him for a few weeks now, but it looked like that had been nothing but a minor stay of execution. Although, if she thought she could get away with it, she’d turn and run straight to the Cooper Suite – where the dinner was being held – and forget this had ever happened.

The way his eyes looked her slowly up and down in the knee-length black sheath dress and matching stiletto-heeled ankle boots she was wearing made her feel more than a little uncomfortable, but, short of turning her back on him and walking in a completely different direction to where she needed to be, she had no choice but to speak to him. Even though it was the last thing she really wanted to do.

‘I’m thirty-seven, Jim. I grew up a long time ago. I had to. And you more than anyone should know that.’

There. It was done. She’d seen him, she’d spoken to him, that was enough. But as she turned to go he gently grabbed her arm, swinging her round to face him. ‘You look beautiful, Amber.’

Amber could feel her cheeks flush, her heart picking up the pace as far as beats were concerned. This wasn’t how she’d wanted the night to start. She had work to do, she didn’t need this.

‘I’m working, Jim.’

He reached out and touched her face, the palm of his hand resting lightly on her warm cheek as his green eyes looked right into hers. ‘It really is so good to see you…’

‘I don’t need this…’ She tried to walk away from him but he somehow managed to grab her hand, giving her no other option but to stop and face him again.

‘I’ve signed a four-year contract, honey, and considering your line of work, it’s gonna be pretty damn hard for you to avoid me forever.’

She stared into his eyes, wishing this wasn’t happening but knowing it had only been a matter of time. The second she’d heard Newcastle Red Star had appointed him as their new manager she’d known this day would come. She’d known she was going to have to face him again, after years of trying to forget he even existed. ‘And this… this relationship we have… We need to do something about that, don’t we?’

‘We don’t have a “relationship”, Jim.’

He smiled at her, that full-on, all-American smile that had made him one of the most lusted-after football managers by bored housewives and female football fans alike. To describe him as a good-looking son-of-a-bitch wouldn’t be too far from the truth, but Amber had messed with Jim Allen one time too many. And been hurt badly in the process. ‘Now, y’see, I don’t agree with you there, Amber. I think we have what people might call a “special” relationship, don’t you? Jesus, sweetheart, you are taking my breath away in that dress. I guess my baby girl really did grow up into a beautiful young woman.’

Amber felt her stomach turn, a sick feeling taking over. ‘I’m not your “baby girl”, Jim. Not anymore. And you don’t get to do this to me again, okay? You don’t…’

A door opening at the far end of the corridor made them jump apart, and Amber took that as her cue to walk away from him, her heart still thumping so hard inside her chest it hurt. She felt breathless, the need to compose herself before she entered the Cooper Suite a necessity now. So, taking a few long, deep breaths as she approached the huge double doors that led into the suite, she shook out her dark red hair, closed her eyes for a second just to make sure she was focused, and then made her way into the room.

It was crowded, and she craned her neck to see if she could find Ronnie, or her dad, or even Ryan, but she couldn’t see any of them. Not yet, anyway. So, moving away from the doors, she made her way to the bar, ordering herself a small glass of red wine. She was working, so it was minimum alcohol tonight. Unfortunately. Because that encounter with Jim Allen had shaken her slightly. Now that he was back up north she could feel that panic she’d tried to suppress for all those years well up inside her again; panic that people would find out just what had gone on, that her father would one day discover the truth. And she really didn’t want that to happen. He didn’t need to know, nobody did. It was enough that she had to live with the constant memories every time she saw him; she didn’t want her father to have to cope with that, too. Jim was a friend, a good friend of her dad’s. He had been for a long, long time. Although, if Freddie Sullivan knew exactly what had happened between Jim Allen and his daughter, he may not think he was such a good friend after all.

‘You look as though you need that.’

Amber swung round, a smile instantly lighting up her face when she saw him standing there, handsome and sexy in a dark grey suit and white shirt. The memories of the lunchtime sex they’d had at his flat just a few hours ago – the last time she’d seen him – made her stomach flip over and dance those ridiculous somersaults it seemed to dance every time he was around now, but that was good. She could cope with Jim Allen tonight knowing Ryan was around. Knowing she could go back to his place after all this was over and forget what had just happened.

‘Yeah. It’s a pity I’m here to work, though.’

‘Not all night, surely?’ Ryan asked, leaning back against the bar, his hands in his pockets.

‘Well, I think I’m allowed to have a little bit of fun,’ Amber smiled, sipping her wine. ‘Look, I know you don’t want anyone to know about us…’

‘I never said that, Amber. Did I?’ Ryan looked her straight in the eye and she felt a little shiver run right up her spine.

‘No. No, you didn’t.’

He looked out over the room as it began to slowly fill up with local celebrities, sportsmen, Red Star players past and present. He didn’t really want to be there, if he was honest. This kind of gig wasn’t his thing, but it came with the territory. And anyway, now that Amber was here things could only get better. ‘I kind of assumed it was you who didn’t want to tell the world you were with me.’

Amber looked at him. ‘Ryan, I… I don’t… What’s actually going on with us?’

‘Apart from great sex?’

‘Be serious, will you? My night hasn’t exactly got off to the best of starts so I don’t need…’

‘Do you want to talk about it?’

She looked away for a second, catching the eye of Jim Allen as he walked into the room, her heart leaping about like it was on some kind of trampoline as he held her gaze, causing her to look away first. ‘No. I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘Amber…’

She took another, longer sip of wine, shaking out her hair as though that would rid her of all the negative energy seeing Jim Allen had created. ‘I want to be with you, Ryan. Okay? I don’t know what we have here, exactly, or even where it’s going. All I know is that I like being with you. I like being around you.’

‘I like being around you, too, Amber.’

She looked at him, slightly taken aback because she’d half expected him to run a mile. She wasn’t exactly telling him that she wanted to get married and have his babies, but considering the type of person Ryan Fisher was, what she’d just told him almost constituted a serious relationship. But that was the last thing either of them wanted. At the minute. ‘You do?’

He smiled, a smile which wiped all thoughts of Jim Allen clean away. For now. ‘Yeah. Jesus, Amber, I’ve never met anyone like you before, so don’t think for a minute I’m giving you up that easily. And besides, we’re having fun, aren’t we?’

‘Yeah. We are.’ She really wanted another drink but she’d just seen Kevin walk in, so she had a feeling best behaviour was going to be called for from now on. She really wished she didn’t have to work tonight. The last thing she felt like doing was mingling with a roomful of local celebrities, grabbing a word here and a short interview there. She just wasn’t in the mood. But that was what she was here to do. Whether she liked it or not.

The touch of Ryan’s hand on her hip made her turn her attention back to him as he gently swung her round to face him. ‘Wanna give them something to talk about?’ he grinned, and Amber couldn’t help but grin back. Why did he make her feel sixteen again? And was that ultimately a good thing? She’d done a lot of things at sixteen she hadn’t been proud of, and it wasn’t a place she particularly wanted to revisit. Even though circumstances could mean she had no choice.

‘I really don’t know what I’m getting myself into with you, Ryan Fisher. But do you know what? I’m tired of being sensible, boring Amber. I’m tired of being serious all the time. I need some fun, before I forget how to have it.’

‘Sounds like a plan to me,’ Ryan smiled, pulling her against him, kissing her slowly. And maybe it wasn’t the wisest of places in which to make their relationship public, but it was done now. They couldn’t exactly press rewind.

‘Okay, handsome. As much as I’d like to stay here with you, I’ve got work to do.’ She looked over towards Kevin, who was staring back at her with raised eyebrows and an expression that asked ‘Is there something you want to tell me?’

‘You coming back to mine later?’ Ryan asked, reluctantly letting her go. She looked incredible tonight in that tight black dress and those killer heels. Although he had no doubt that he’d rather see that dress down around her ankles. She could keep the heels on, though. Jesus, that image was giving him a hard-on he was going to have put back in the box until later.

‘Yeah,’ Amber smiled, shaking her hair out again, quickly running her fingers through it. ‘You bet I am.’

Leaving him standing by the bar, she walked over to Kevin, who was still looking at her with raised eyebrows and a surprised expression.

‘If the wind changes you’ll stay like that,’ Amber pointed out, taking a glass of something sparkling from the tray of a passing waiter. Sod it. One more drink wouldn’t hurt.

‘How long has that been going on?’ he asked, jerking his head in the direction of Ryan.

She took a sip of what tasted like champagne. ‘Long enough.’

‘Shit! Amber!’

‘What? What difference does it make to you? You said it wouldn’t hurt if I got closer to Ryan Fisher.’

‘I didn’t say shag him for news stories, did I?’

‘Oh, you think I’m with him purely to get you scoops from the sporting world?’

‘No, of course not…’

‘I’m joking, Kevin. Look, it’s just a bit of fun, alright? It won’t affect my work, I’ll be professional at all times – when I need to be – and if there is any juicy news from the world of football that I think we should know about, I’ll make sure Ryan tells us first, alright?’

Kevin looked at her, his eyebrows thankfully returning to their normal position. ‘You’re a dark horse, Amber Sullivan. I always thought you and footballers…’

‘Yes, well, you know what thought did.’ She took another sip of champagne and scanned the room, noticing her dad deep in conversation with Jim Allen. Her stomach momentarily lurched again as his eyes briefly met hers, a million memories flooding her head that she quickly pushed aside. She turned her attention back to Kevin. ‘Right. I’d better start mingling then, hadn’t I? Is Alec here with the camera yet?’

‘He’s just setting up,’ Kevin replied. ‘I’ll give you a shout when he’s ready. Go on. Go talk to your dad for five minutes.’

Amber watched Kevin walk away, reluctant to go over to her dad while Jim was still around.

‘So, it’s all official then?’ Ronnie asked, sidling up beside her, a pint in one hand, the other stuffed deep in the pocket of his black suit trousers.

‘Why is everybody suddenly making me feel like I’m twelve years old? I’m thirty-frigging-seven, and Ryan isn’t my first boyfriend.’

‘Touchy,’ Ronnie smirked, taking a sip of lager.

Amber nudged him, unable to stop herself from smiling. ‘Fuck off, Ronnie.’

‘Nice. Does your new boyfriend know what comes out of that mouth?’

‘He’s more concerned with what goes in it,’ she winked, walking away from him, finally plucking up the courage to go over to her dad.

‘Oh, that’s ladylike, Amber. That’s very ladylike,’ Ronnie shouted after her. Amber just gave him a dismissive wave over her shoulder as she walked away, trying not to let the sick feeling in her stomach take over as she approached her dad, who was still talking to Jim Allen.

‘Amber,’ Freddie Sullivan said, giving his daughter an almost stern look. Was he really going to start lecturing her on boyfriends? At her age? Really? ‘Jim tells me you two have already caught up with each other?’

She looked over at the handsome American. He might be forty-eight years old now but he hadn’t lost any of those good looks that had made him the pin-up player of his day. If anything, he’d only got better looking. ‘Yeah. We have. Briefly.’

‘And I’ve told her she’s looking beautiful tonight,’ Jim smiled, a smile loaded with more meaning than Amber cared to think about. ‘Your new boyfriend really is one very lucky man.’

Amber swallowed hard, trying desperately to keep the smile on her face, although she wasn’t altogether sure it had travelled to her eyes.

‘Don’t you go wearing him out now,’ Jim winked. ‘We’ve got a big match this weekend. I’d hate our star player to be – tired.’ He turned away from her and smiled at her father. ‘I’ll catch you later, Freddie. Good to see you again, after all this time.’

‘You too, Jim.’

Amber watched him walk away, swallowing hard again before she looked at her dad, sighing the second she saw his expression. ‘Jesus, Dad, come on. Don’t start, alright?’

‘I’m not going to lie and say I’m happy about this, Amber.’

‘I don’t need your approval.’

‘Maybe not, but he’s eleven years younger than you…’

‘And what’s that got to do with anything?

‘Ryan Fisher is trouble, kiddo. And you know that as well as I do. He’s trouble, and that concerns me when I suddenly find out that my daughter is involved with him.’

‘Y’know, contrary to belief, I’m all grown-up now. I think I can handle Ryan Fisher.’

‘I hope so. I really hope so. Because I don’t want to have to be the one to pick up the pieces when he fucks up.’

‘Dad…’

‘You might not be my little girl anymore, Amber, but that doesn’t stop me from worrying about you. So just be careful, okay?’

Amber sighed again, looking up at the ceiling for a few seconds as she heard Kevin’s voice calling her over, grateful for the well-timed distraction. ‘I’ve got work to do, Dad. I’ll catch you later.’

‘Are you fucking kidding me?’

Amber swung round as she heard that American accent behind her. She’d thought nobody had noticed her sneak off for a sly cigarette, donated by a News North East colleague – the kind of night she’d had so far had caused her to revive her old smoking habit – but she’d been wrong. Some people had quite obviously been watching her more closely than others.

‘I’m busy, Jim.’

He grabbed her arm again, almost dragging her round the corner to a quiet area behind the stadium, pushing her back against the wall. ‘Ryan fucking Fisher?’

She stared into his eyes. Maybe facing him head-on was the only option she had left now. Avoiding him obviously wasn’t working. ‘And that’s got how much to do with you, exactly?’

‘I’m his fucking manager, honey. So what he’s doing and who he’s doing it with is very much my business.’

She couldn’t help laughing. Was he serious? ‘Bullshit, Jim!’ She pushed him away and he staggered back slightly, quickly composing himself, straightening his jacket collar, his eyes meeting hers once again. But she was standing her ground. ‘Fucking bullshit!’

He laughed, too, a deep, almost sinister laugh, moving closer to her again, reaching out to stroke her cheek with his fingertips. ‘Your dad’s none-too-pleased about your new – boyfriend, I gather.’

She made no attempt to remove his hand. She made no attempt to move at all, her eyes still staring into his. Eyes she hadn’t stared into for almost two decades now. For good reason.

‘But then, I’m sure daddy wouldn’t be too pleased if he knew what me and his little girl had got up to. His baby. You were so young, Amber…’

‘I was too young, Jim.’

‘I never once heard you say no, honey. Not once.’

‘I’d just turned sixteen,’ Amber whispered, her stomach turning over and over as he moved ever closer, his thumb now running over her slightly open mouth, and Amber wished with all her heart that she wasn’t feeling the things she was feeling right now.

‘And you were beautiful. You were so beautiful. And you’re even more beautiful now…’

‘Why did you come back here, Jim? You promised me, you said you would never come back here once your playing days were over.’

‘Promises are made to be broken, Amber. And you can’t expect me to turn down the opportunity of a lifetime now, can you? Expecting me to turn down this job just because you don’t want me around anymore, that’s pretty selfish, don’t you think?’

She closed her eyes as his fingers continued to stroke her skin, moving down over her neck, her shoulders, trailing slowly along her collarbone. ‘Please, don’t do this to me, Jim. Don’t do this. I can’t go there again. What you did to me…’

‘I was in love with you, Amber. I was in love with you for so long…’

She shook her head, trying desperately not to cry now. She’d tried so hard for so many years to forget her teenage affair with this handsome American who’d swept her off her feet and made her feel like a princess. She’d tried to forget the first time he’d made love to her, just days after her sixteenth birthday. He’d been this twenty-seven-year-old, incredibly charming, drop-dead gorgeous footballer who’d made her feel like the most special person in the world. But he’d also been the man who’d told her they had to keep their relationship a secret because nobody would understand, and she’d never questioned that because, back then, she would have done anything for him. Anything.

For almost two years her life had been a whirlwind of daydreams and fantasies as she’d studied for her A Levels and he continued to be a footballing god, becoming one of Red Star’s most successful players ever. They’d snatched secret meetings together at a city centre apartment at any opportunity, making love and talking about the future, but it was a future she soon found out he’d had no intention of spending with her.

The day his relationship with a local model hit the headlines was the day Amber had left the North East to go and study for her degree in Manchester. She’d needed to get away. She’d needed that distance in order to cope, because coping wasn’t something she’d dealt with all that successfully at the time. How could she possibly have stayed in the North East with Jim a major player at Red Star, flaunting his beautiful new girlfriend all over the place? This stunning new couple that everybody was talking about. He’d used her as nothing but a plaything, something with which to amuse himself until he’d found the girl he’d really wanted. And it had shattered Amber. Because she’d been convinced, absolutely convinced, that he’d meant every word he’d said to her. How stupid had she been?

After finishing university she’d moved back to the North East, finally believing she was over Jim Allen. Had it hurt to see him again? Had it hurt to go home and find him there, at her parents’ house? Smiling at her as though he hadn’t been the one to take her precious virginity, lie to her, and then walk away the second he’d got bored? Yeah. It had hurt like hell. So why, then, did she just erase all those bad memories and replace them only with the beautiful ones she remembered? The ones where he’d hold her in his arms and touch her in a way she could only ever have dreamt about before? Why did she forget the lies and the secrets and the hurt he’d put her through? Why did she do that? Because Jim Allen had got under her skin, embedded himself there like some kind of permanent tattoo that she couldn’t remove, no matter how much she wanted to. And to get home and find out that his relationship had ended, that his girlfriend had left him for a musician she’d met on a modelling shoot, that was the news Amber had wanted to hear for so long. The news that Jim Allen was free again. Everything else – the past, the lies, all the hurt and the pain, none of that had mattered. All that mattered was that he was back in her life. It hadn’t bothered her that he’d still been determined to keep everything a secret, to hide their relationship away like something seedy and sordid. She wasn’t that naive sixteen-year-old who’d had her head turned by a handsome face and empty promises, she wasn’t that person anymore, so why hadn’t she questioned the secrecy second time around? Why hadn’t she done that? Because she’d been blinded by an obsession that had taken her over, that’s why. And once again she’d believed everything he’d told her. She’d believed that, this time, there was a future for them, that they did have something worth fighting for. And it had been worth it just to have him back where she’d always wanted him – back in her life, back in her bed, back making love to her in a way that made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. Jim Allen was addictive. Jim Allen was dangerous. Jim Allen had the ability to hurt her all over again, so when it came out that he was involved with a famous soap actress, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to Amber. She should have known it was going to happen all along. But when he tossed her aside a second time it was still as much of a shock as it had been first time around. Yet still she couldn’t tell a soul. She couldn’t tell anyone why her heart was breaking all over again, why she refused invitations from friends to go out and have fun in the pubs and clubs of Newcastle, like any normal young girl in their twenties. She couldn’t tell them that she didn’t want to meet some random boy in a bar. She didn’t want that. She didn’t want some meaningless relationship – yet, in reality, wasn’t that exactly what she’d had with Jim?

That was when she’d thrown herself into her work, deciding to carve out a career in sports reporting rather than having fun and finding love. She’d already found love, and look where that had got her. She couldn’t go through that again. It was then that Amber had made her decision never to become involved with footballers ever again. Despite what she’d told Ronnie, despite what she’d told anyone else, that decision had never really been about the Ryan Fishers of this world. She could handle them – the arrogant, cocksure bastards who thought everything revolved around them. They were just little boys who earned far too much money and lived their lives in some kind of fantasy bubble. They weren’t a problem; she could deal with them. No, everything was Jim Allen’s fault. Everything. He was the reason she was a cold-hearted ice-queen. He was the reason she’d never had a decent relationship with any man for all these years. He was the reason she was shaken up and confused. He was the reason.

He’d seen out his professional playing days at Newcastle Red Star, and following his retirement he’d finally left the North East with his soap-star girlfriend to move down south and start his managerial career, giving Amber the distance she’d needed all over again. And he’d promised her, he’d told her that was it. If she didn’t want him to come back up north then he wouldn’t. He’d leave her in peace, let her move on with her life and, despite everything, that’s what she’d done. She’d moved on. But now he was back. Back in the North East, back in her life. Back to break her heart all over again?

‘You were never in love with me, Jim. Never.’

He shook his head, his eyes following the movement of his fingers as they traced the curve of her breasts, and Amber was unable to stop a small gasp of pleasure from escaping, even though she’d tried to do so by biting down on her lip.

‘You have no idea, Amber…’ He gave that low laugh again, his eyes back on hers. ‘You used to bite down on your lip when we made love, do you remember?’ His arm snaked around her waist, his hand sliding down to rest in the small of her back, his mouth moving closer to hers as he spoke. ‘I can still see it now. Your eyes would always be open because you liked to look at me, didn’t you? You liked to look at me when I pushed inside you. But you’d always bite down on that bottom lip of yours. Always.’

‘Please don’t do this,’ Amber whispered, afraid of what she might do now, afraid of what might happen because she hadn’t even thought about the consequences Jim Allen’s arrival back on Tyneside might have. She’d known she was going to have to face him again, but she hadn’t even thought about what could – what would – happen when she did. Thirty-seven years old and, even though she’d tried so hard to believe that she wasn’t, she was still as naive as that sixteen-year-old girl who’d believed every promise this man had broken. ‘Please.’

‘I didn’t just come back for this job, Amber.’

‘No.’ She shook her head again, silent tears now streaming down her cheeks, and as he leaned forward and brushed his lips over those tears, gently kissing them away, she felt her heart break into a million tiny pieces. ‘Don’t say that. Please, don’t say that.’

‘I’m a free agent, Amber. No ties, nothing holding me back. And I don’t believe for one second that this ridiculous relationship you have with Ryan Fisher is anything but a front…’

‘You don’t know anything,’ Amber said quietly, quickly brushing away fresh tears with the back of her hand. ‘Ryan… he’s not what everybody thinks he is. He’s changed.’

‘Are you really still that naive, Amber? Ryan Fisher doesn’t care about you, he never will. You’re the older woman, the novelty he hasn’t yet had a chance to try out. Believe me, honey, when he’s finished with you he’ll just toss you aside and move onto the next new toy.’

‘Like you did, you mean?’

Jim looked at her, right into her pale blue eyes that were still shining with tears yet, at the same time, were steely and cold. ‘I came back for you, Amber.’

‘No, you didn’t, Jim. Jesus, will you stop playing me again? This isn’t fair, you’re not being fair…’

‘I saw you with him, and it hurt. Okay? He’s a boy, Amber. A boy. And he’ll never love you, not like I can. Never.’

‘Who says I want love? After what you did to me why would I want to leave myself open to that kind of hurt again? Huh? Why would I want to do that? I’m having fun, Jim. For all those years I threw myself into my work as a way of forgetting you and what you did to me; I became obsessed with my career, with being the best at what I did, and in turn that made me into this cold, almost bitter person who trusted no one and let nobody past the barriers I had to put up. Because of what you did. So now I’m having fun, okay? I’m not in this to find love, or to find that perfect man, because he doesn’t exist. I’m just having fun.’

He pulled her against him, his hand still resting firmly in the small of her back, his mouth almost touching hers as he spoke, the smell of his aftershave overwhelming because it was the same aftershave he’d worn when they’d been together. Both times. He smelt the same, he felt the same; he sounded the same. But everything was so different.

‘I didn’t come back here purely for this job,’ he whispered. ‘Believe that.’

‘I don’t have to believe anything where you’re concerned, Jim.’

He smiled, a smile that sent Amber’s heart racing so fast she could almost feel the blood rushing through her veins, making her feel dizzy and slightly disorientated. ‘My baby girl,’ he whispered, gently stroking her hair. ‘My beautiful baby girl.’

Amber had lost all control now. He was too close, he was far too close and she couldn’t stop him, couldn’t stop it from happening. Before she’d even had a chance to realise what was going on, his mouth was touching hers in a kiss that sent her heart racing even faster, a kiss so beautiful, so full of memories that it made her cry all over again, hot, fresh tears soaking his skin as well as hers. But she couldn’t pull away; she didn’t want to. Not at first, anyway. His mouth was soft against hers, moving slowly as he kissed her long and deep, his hand resting on her damp cheek as she held him close – this man who’d hurt her so badly. This man who’d walked back into her life as though nothing had happened.

But then reality kicked in. All the memories of the pain and the tears, the nights she’d lain in bed crying her heart out, falling to pieces because she’d loved him so much, the humiliation enough to make sure she’d never, ever told a soul about what had happened between them. All that hurt came flooding back like a tidal wave, crashing over her with a force so overwhelming it was as if someone had just turned on a light and all of a sudden she could see exactly what was going on.

Pulling away from him, she pushed him backwards, with a much harder force this time, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she looked him right in the eye. ‘You don’t get to do this to me a third time, Jim. You don’t get to do that.’

And with that she walked away from him, back inside, back to the life she’d been trying to get on with before he’d walked back into it.

‘Everything okay?’ Ryan asked as she joined him at the bar.

She looked at him. ‘Have you been here all night?’

‘Who are you? My mother?’

‘Fuck you, Ryan. I’m not in the mood.’ She started to walk away from him, tired and desperate to forget this night had ever happened. But he wasn’t letting her get away that easily.

‘Hey, come on.’ He gently took her hand, swinging her back round to face him. ‘What’s up with you, huh? You’ve been tense all night. Is there something you want to tell me?’

‘Like what?’ she asked, her skin prickling as Jim Allen walked back into the Cooper Suite, looking every inch the charismatic character he’d become. Amber found it hard to believe he didn’t have some glamorous model or stunning pop star by his side. Past history showed that was the type he went for. The type he’d brushed her aside for.

Ryan narrowed his eyes as he caught the look she gave his manager. ‘Has something happened between you and the boss?’

Amber swung round to look at him, hoping to God that her expression gave nothing away. Ryan finding out about her teenage affair with his new manager would just put a lid on this crappy night. ‘No. No, of course not. Why – why would you ask that?’

‘He’s a family friend, isn’t he?’

Amber quickly ordered herself a large brandy, immediately taking a long sip, not looking at Ryan when she spoke. ‘Yeah. So?’

Ryan shrugged. ‘Nothing. But… the way you looked at him just then… it was a bit weird, that’s all. Maybe there’s a bit of history there, I don’t know…’

‘For fuck’s sake, Ryan, I’m just tired, alright? I’ve got people on my back because of who you are and what we’re doing, and technically I’ve been working since 7.30 this morning, so I’m just tired. Okay? Nothing else.’

Ryan held up his hands in surrender, smiling at her in the vain hope that it might calm her down. Having said that, though, she did look more than a little bit sexy when she was in a mood. And that could be beneficial when they got back to his apartment. Sometimes angry sex could be the biggest kick ever. ‘Okay, okay. I get it. Do you think sex’ll help sort you out?’

She looked at him, and she couldn’t help laughing, the effect of the brandy and his cocky sense of humour going a long way towards helping her relax. And forget. ‘Shit, Ryan. You have no idea how much I need you right now.’

‘Right now?’ he asked, arching an eyebrow.

She finished the last of her brandy and slipped her arms around his waist, kissing him quickly. ‘Well, as much as that might get you more headline space, and I know how much you adore the publicity, no. Not right now. But, if you’re willing to finish that drink as quickly as is humanly possible…’

He put his half-finished pint down on the bar and pulled her closer, tilting her chin up and kissing her back, a kiss so different to Jim’s, but a kiss she could quite easily get used to. ‘I’m done.’

She smiled, gently stroking the rough beard that covered his strong jawline with her fingertips. ‘And those are two words I don’t want to hear from you again for a good few hours, you got that?’

He smiled, too, his hand sliding down onto her backside as he kissed her again, the feel of her breasts pushing against him enough to make him realise they were finished here. It was time to go home. ‘I got it.’

‘Good,’ she whispered, playing with the collar of his jacket. ‘Then let’s get out of here.’

Chapter Eight

‘I can’t believe you kept that a secret from us!’ Tracy mock-scolded before Amber had even had a chance to get through the revolving door of the News North East entrance. ‘You and Ryan Fisher! How did you manage to keep that one quiet? I’d have been shouting it from the rooftops if it was me.’

‘I didn’t keep anything a secret, Tracy,’ Amber said, loosening the coat she had wrapped tight around her. Autumn had well and truly hit the North East now and it was freezing outside. ‘I just didn’t choose to make it public knowledge, because we’re not exactly Brad and Angelina.’

‘Posh and Becks then?’ Tracy smiled.

Amber couldn’t help but smile back. ‘Not even close,’ she laughed.

‘Well, you might not think you’re news, but it seems the press have other ideas,’ Tracy said, holding up a copy of a well-known tabloid newspaper. Emblazoned across the front page was a picture of Amber and Ryan, hand-in-hand, leaving an Indian restaurant in Newcastle. Amber sighed, rolling her eyes. She really wasn’t dealing with the sudden publicity her relationship with Ryan had caused. She never had been one to revel in any kind of limelight; she hated being the centre of attention in any situation, and the fact she hadn’t even realised that people would be interested in her relationship with this young, famous footballer just proved that she really was still painfully naive. ‘You’re the newest WAG on the block now,’ Tracy grinned as Amber took the paper from her. The picture of her clinging onto Ryan’s hand, leaning into him as they walked, made her cringe slightly. She had her head down, thankfully, but he was looking straight into the camera, a slight smile on his face. He loved all that shit, but it was very much a downside for Amber.

‘Looks like we won’t even be able to nip out for a curry in peace now, then,’ she sighed, handing the newspaper back to Tracy.

‘So, come on,’ Tracy said, unable to hide the eagerness in her voice. ‘What’s he like?’

Amber looked at the pretty receptionist through slightly narrowed eyes. ‘He’s a bloke, Tracy. That’s all he is. He just happens to be a bloke who’s very good at football.’

‘How can you say that?’ Tracy gasped, placing a hand over her chest, her eyes wide with shock. ‘Ryan Fisher is probably the most gorgeous footballer out there right now.’ She returned to a somewhat more composed position behind her desk. ‘Mind you, a few of my friends think that Jim Allen is a bit of alright, too. For an older man. I certainly wouldn’t say no. Who knew football could be so sexy, huh?’

Just the mention of Jim’s name made Amber’s skin prickle and she stepped away from the desk, picking up her bag.

‘Personally, either of them would do me,’ Tracy went on, sorting through a pile of mail on her desk. ‘Your dad used to play alongside Jim Allen at Newcastle Red Star, didn’t he?’

‘Briefly, yes. Look, Tracy, if you’ll excuse me I’ve got quite a bit to get through this morning if I want to make it to the match this afternoon.’

‘Feel free to pop down for a coffee later,’ Tracy smiled, looking up as Amber made her way towards the lift. ‘Y’know, if there’s any more gossip you want to share.’

Amber gave Tracy a small smile back before disappearing into the lift. With the doors safely closed, she leaned back against the wall, closed her eyes and breathed out slowly. She really wished she’d been more prepared for the publicity being involved with Ryan Fisher was creating. She could kick herself for being so stupid. Had she really thought that people would just shrug their shoulders and let them get on with things? Talk about burying your head in the sand! But, and this was the biggest surprise, she was really growing to like Ryan. Despite his reputation. Despite the age gap. Despite the fact she still couldn’t trust him 100%. But then, could he really trust her? Now that Jim Allen was back in her life, could she really trust herself?

Since the night of the charity dinner at the Tynebridge Stadium, Amber had tried her hardest to avoid bumping into Jim again, and thanks to a run of away matches she’d succeeded. Of course, the double-edged sword there was that Ryan had been away from home, too, and she’d found herself missing him. More than she’d thought she would. Oh, she wasn’t talking love’s young dream or anything like that. She wasn’t pining for him or sitting there night after night scribbling his name down on pieces of paper and imagining what it would be like to be Mrs. Ryan Fisher. Far from it. They weren’t joined at the hip or desperate to be around each other twenty-four hours a day. All it had been so far was a lovely few weeks of fun, which suited Amber just fine. And she was sure it suited Ryan just fine, too. But it did feel good knowing someone was there if she needed them. It felt good being able to let go and enjoy herself. It felt good to have that physical relationship again, and nobody could deny that Ryan Fisher wasn’t a man most women would kill to get into their bed. That in itself brought a slightly smug smile to Amber’s face as she stepped out of the lift and made her way to her desk.

‘I won’t ask what you’re smiling about because you’ll probably tell me,’ Kevin said, throwing a pile of post onto Amber’s desk as she sat down, swinging her chair round to face her laptop. ‘I take it you’re going to the match this afternoon?’

‘Oh, you’re not gonna make me work, are you?’ Amber groaned. She really wanted to go to Tynebridge that afternoon and just watch a game of football without knowing she had work to do, too.

‘Chill out, will you? You’re free to go whenever you want. I didn’t even need you in this morning, if you must know.’

‘Yeah, well, I wanted to get this report done before Monday. And I’ve got an interview at the cricket ground to sort out for next week that I’d rather get out of the way now. That’s the only reason I’m here.’

Kevin sat down on the edge of her desk, folding his arms.

Amber looked at him, frowning slightly. ‘Do you want something, Kevin?’

‘Is everything alright?’

Amber sat back, crossing her legs, resting one elbow on the desk beside her, tapping the nails of her other hand on the arm of her chair. ‘What’s the matter? Come on, you’ve got that “I’m about to give you a bit of a talking to” look on your face.’

‘Are you coping okay with all this publicity you and Ryan Fisher are getting at the minute?’

Amber glanced briefly out of the window, watching the steady stream of Saturday morning traffic flowing past the News North East offices. ‘I don’t like it, but, yeah…’ She turned her attention back to Kevin. ‘Why? Have you got a problem with it?’

Kevin shook his head, almost too defensively, Amber thought. ‘No. No, I don’t have a problem with it. Why would I have a problem with it?’

‘I don’t know,’ Amber said, chewing on the end of her biro as she stared at Kevin. ‘Why would you?’

Kevin looked down at the floor for a few seconds before meeting Amber’s eyes again, coughing quickly. ‘I know I made a joke out of things in the beginning, telling you to get closer to Ryan because it might benefit us, but…’

Amber couldn’t help smiling. She and Kevin Russell had known each other a long time – ever since she’d joined News North East as a young trainee – and despite their often clashing personalities, she cared a lot about him. And she knew he cared about her, too. He just had trouble expressing his real feelings.

‘Kevin, I’m fine. Okay? I know what I’m doing, I know the kind of person Ryan is, and I’m well aware of his reputation. So I don’t need another “dad” on my back. Alright?’

He looked at her, a sideways smile starting to appear at the corners of his mouth. ‘You sure?’

‘I’m sure,’ Amber replied, still smiling as she swung her chair back round to face her now fired-up laptop. ‘Now, go on, get off my desk. I’ve got work to do.’

Opening up her emails, Amber scanned the list to see which, if any, required urgent attention, but the sound of her phone ringing distracted her almost immediately. She picked up and pressed answer without checking the caller’s number, and the second she heard his voice she knew that had been a mistake. ‘Hello, Amber.’

‘Who gave you my number?’ Amber asked, her voice almost a whisper.

‘Come on, honey. Your dad gave it to me. We’re old friends, baby, remember? He just wants us all to stay in touch this time.’

‘You aren’t being fair, Jim,’ Amber carried on through gritted teeth, leaning forward, desperate to make sure nobody overheard this conversation.

‘I just want to get to know you again, Amber. What’s so wrong with that? It’s been so long … too long… Look, I’m back now and there isn’t really anything you can do about that, so why don’t we start again, huh? Start over.’

‘Because I can’t do that, Jim. I can’t start over, I can’t begin again. I can’t do that. So just let me deal with this in my own way, alright? And that means leaving me alone.’

She ended the call and threw her phone down onto the desk, dropping her head into her hands. Jim Allen wasn’t going to go away, she wasn’t stupid. He was back, and it was something she was just going to have to deal with. She just didn’t know how to, yet. She just didn’t know how.

Ryan watched as his laptop screen sprang to life, his heart racing. He was alone in the hotel room, but that could change at any time. Jim Allen had a strict ban on computer use on the day of a match – he even confiscated everyone’s mobile phones for the last few hours leading up to kick-off. They were too much of a distraction as far as he was concerned. Nobody should be thinking about anything other than the match ahead. But Ryan had sneaked his laptop in, burying it under a pile of clothes at the bottom of his holdall. He was big enough to be able to decide what was considered a distraction, and right now, sitting there with nothing to do and nowhere to go until they were called for a team lunch at midday, the silence was a bigger distraction than the internet could ever be.

He looked at the computer screen, his fingers flying over the keyboard as he logged into his account, but for some reason he just couldn’t bring himself to do what he’d intended to do, so he quickly logged off and threw himself down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He wished Amber was with him. She’d be able to take his mind off things, even though pre-match sex was usually way off-limits. It wasn’t something that was encouraged because it could have a habit of draining vital energy needed to kick the arses of whomever you happened to be playing later. Shit! Ryan wasn’t handling this well at all today. He was usually so focused, so totally fixed on nothing but the football, so why was he suddenly distracted? It all felt too familiar, too much of a sense of déjà vu and that only served to make Ryan nervous. He’d thought he was dealing with this. He’d thought he could do it.

A knock at the door made him almost jump out of his skin and he sat bolt upright, shoving his laptop underneath a pillow as Gary popped his head round the door. ‘Hey, you alright? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost?’

‘I was… I was asleep. I woke up with a bit of a start, that’s all.’

‘Sorry, mate. But it’s lunchtime. The boss wants us all downstairs in five. Okay?’

Ryan smiled, standing up and running a hand through his dark hair. ‘Yeah. Okay.’

It was time to get his focus back. He had a match to play, and everything else had to be put to the back of his mind – for now, at least.

‘Hey, you,’ Amber smiled, kissing Ronnie on both cheeks as she joined him at the bar in the Players’ Lounge at Tynebridge for a pre-match drink. ‘It’s so good to see you.’

‘And you, kiddo,’ Ronnie smiled back, giving her a big hug. ‘It makes a change for us both to be able to enjoy a match without either of us being here in a professional capacity.’

Amber leaned over the bar, ordering them both bottles of lager. If neither of them were working, then there was no reason why they shouldn’t kick back and enjoy the afternoon. ‘You’re not here to babysit me, are you?’ Amber asked, looking at Ronnie with a slightly suspicious expression as she slid up onto a barstool.

‘Jesus, you’re a bit paranoid, aren’t you?’ Ronnie laughed, leaning back against the bar and folding his arms. ‘Why? Do you need babysitting?’

Amber stuck her tongue out at him, taking a swig of lager straight from the bottle.

‘Everything still going okay with you and Roy of the Rovers?’

‘Yes, thank you,’ Amber smiled, scanning the room to see if there was anyone else in there she recognised. ‘Everything is just fine.’

‘Any sign of it getting serious?’

‘Jesus, no!’ Amber said, almost choking on her lager. ‘Far from it! But it’s good to be having some fun, y’know? Without the burden of commitment.’

‘Yeah. I can see that,’ Ronnie smiled, reaching out to squeeze her hand. ‘Maybe we’re all wrong about him, huh? Because he certainly seems to be making you the happiest I’ve seen you in a long time.’

‘Well, I can’t deny I like being with him. He’s proving to be a very reliable stress-buster.’

‘What have you got to be stressed about?’ Ronnie asked, frowning slightly.

Amber took another swig of lager, looking away for a second, which was a mistake. Because Jim Allen chose that exact moment to walk into the Players’ Lounge, his hands in the pockets of his dark suit, that smile lighting up his handsome face as he stopped to talk to people. It wasn’t a usual occurrence to see the manager of the home team in the Players’ Lounge so soon before kick-off, and just the sight of him made Amber suddenly feel quite anxious.

‘Nothing,’ Amber replied, turning back to face Ronnie. ‘I’ve got nothing to be stressed about.’ She slid down from her stool, straightening her top before kissing Ronnie quickly on the cheek. ‘I’ve just got to nip to the loo. I’ll see you up in the executive box in a bit, okay?’

‘Yeah. Okay.’

She almost ran out of the Lounge, hoping that Jim hadn’t noticed her, her heart beating like a jackhammer because she really couldn’t face talking to him. Not now. Not today.

‘Amber! Amber, wait…’

She stopped walking and leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes and sighing heavily. ‘What do you want, Jim?’

‘Come to my office. Please. I just want to talk to you.’

She looked at her watch, tapping the face as her eyes met his. ‘You are aware of the time, aren’t you?’

‘Colin’s got everything under control. Please, Amber. Five minutes, that’s all.’

‘What do we need to talk about, Jim? You’re back, and I’ve just got to deal with that. We don’t need to talk about anything.’

He reached out and gently ran his thumb over her cheek, and as he did so his eyes never wavered from hers, his stare almost mesmerising, bringing with it a hundred and one memories that Amber had tried so hard to keep hidden. ‘I think we do.’

She threw her head back, sighing again, pushing a hand through her dark red hair. ‘Five minutes. That’s all.’

Amber could feel her anxiety levels rising as they walked the short distance downstairs to Jim’s office. She shouldn’t be doing this. She really shouldn’t be doing this. The manager’s office was directly opposite the home team’s dressing room, the tiniest of spaces separating the two rooms, and it was just too close for comfort in Amber’s eyes. She should have been strong enough to say no to him. She should have been strong enough to turn around and walk away, but she’d never been strong enough to say no to Jim Allen. And that was what scared her the most. From a distance she could cope, but when he was this close to her she didn’t know if it was going to be that easy.

Closing the door behind them, Jim took off his jacket and flung it over the back of the chair behind his desk, sticking his hands in his pockets again. He walked round to the front of his desk, leaning back against it, looking straight at Amber. ‘You seem nervous.’

‘Of course I’m nervous. I’m alone in a room with you, and I’m not entirely sure how I let that happen.’

‘I’m not going to hurt you.’

‘Not in the physical sense of the word, no,’ Amber said quietly, still all too aware that Ryan was just metres away in the dressing room opposite. She could hear the players’ voices; she could hear the noise, the hum of all that pre-match chatter, and it didn’t make her feel comfortable.

‘Amber, please. I really want you to…’

‘Trust you? Is that what you were going to say?’

He pushed a hand through his dark, grey-flecked hair, looking down at the ground. ‘I don’t think you’re ever going to trust me again, are you?’

‘Too damn right I’m not.’ She backed away towards the door, almost as if placing herself there meant she could make her escape that much faster. ‘Twice, Jim. I trusted you twice, and both times you threw it back in my face.’ She looked right at him. ‘So how can you ever expect me to trust you again?’

He looked down at the floor. ‘I can’t.’

‘No. You can’t.’

He walked over to her and Amber made no attempt to move, even though a huge part of her was screaming back off, get out of there! She was doing everything she’d promised herself she’d never do again. She was letting Jim back in, letting him wield that power over her that only he could inflict. And all of a sudden she was that sixteen-year-old girl again, looking up into the eyes of a man who should have known better. A man who was about to take over her entire life, just as he had done all those years ago.

‘If I could walk away, Amber, I would. Believe me.’

‘That’s bullshit, Jim. Of course you can walk away.’

‘Can you?’ He reached out and touched her face, stroking her cheek with his fingertips, so lightly it made Amber catch her breath, his green eyes staring deep into her soul, or that’s what it felt like. ‘Why do you think I’ve never managed to hold down a real, solid relationship for all these years, Amber? I’m forty-eight years old and I’ve never been married, never even been engaged, never let anyone get that close to me, so why is that, huh?’

‘Because nobody can trust you, Jim. You take people’s feelings, scrunch them up into a tiny ball and then you throw them aside as though they never mattered to you in the first place.’

‘Is that what you really think?’

‘You’ve never given me any cause to think otherwise.’

She could feel her heart pounding as his fingers slid down over her neck, her shoulder, running lightly over her arm until his hand slipped into hers. He was holding her hand, and it felt just like it had done all those years ago – it felt magical, almost. They’d shared this big secret, the two of them, and it was a secret that seemed destined to continue. Despite everything Amber had promised herself.

‘I would have done anything for you, Jim,’ she whispered, staring up into his eyes. ‘Anything. But the one thing I didn’t do is the one thing I should have done – I should have told people what happened between us because, if I had, then this wouldn’t be happening now. You wouldn’t have had the chance to come near me again, my dad would’ve seen to that.’

‘So why didn’t you?’ Jim asked, watching as Amber slipped her hand out of his, walking away from him.

‘I was scared.’ She swung back round to face him. ‘I slept with you when I was just sixteen, Jim. I’d been sixteen years old for just a few days when I let that happen, because I wanted you so much, and to know that you wanted me, too – you have no idea how that made me feel. But if my dad ever found out… How do you think he’d react, huh? Even after all this time, do you really think he’d just shrug it off because it happened all those years ago? If it was your daughter…?’

Jim ran a hand through his hair, walking over to her as she leaned back against his desk. ‘He’d hate me. Of course he would. But nobody needs to know what happened back then. Nobody got hurt…’

‘Nobody got hurt?’ Amber gasped. ‘I got hurt, Jim. Me. You hurt me.’

‘I know, baby,’ he whispered, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand. ‘I know. And I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. But all that matters is what’s happening now. You and me. We could be so good together.’

Amber shook her head, but her heart was screaming for him to touch her again, to kiss her mouth the way he’d always used to, to hold her in his arms and make love to her, because she knew it would feel as if he’d never been away. She knew that. And that’s what frightened her the most, but it was something she’d wanted more than anything – from the very second she’d laid eyes on him again.

‘We can’t be together, Jim.’ But what she was saying and what she was feeling were two completely different things, and it was taking more effort to stay strong than Amber could have ever imagined. ‘We can’t. And this… this isn’t fair, this is so unfair…’

His mouth was on hers before she’d had a chance to draw breath, his tongue touching hers, his arm circling her waist, pulling her against him. And that kiss, just the feel of his mouth moving against hers, it was as if it had wiped every ounce of that hard-fought-for strength clean away, leaving Amber as that sixteen-year-old girl once more – powerless to do anything because she loved him. So much. She always had done. Was that the real reason why she’d never really wanted another serious relationship? Because, in the back of her mind, she’d always been waiting for him to come back to her?

Lost in the moment now, too far down that road to turn back and forget this was happening, Amber closed her eyes and threw her head back as his mouth brushed the base of her neck, his fingers sliding up under her top, cool against her naked skin, but all that did was send a shiver running through her that heightened everything she was already feeling. She was under his spell once more.

Pulling her top up over her head, she leaned right back, closing her eyes again as she remembered the very first time he’d touched her this way; how she’d felt just a little bit scared, but with an excitement inside that had been almost unbearable. She’d been worried it would hurt, worried the pain would detract from what she’d so wanted to be a fairy tale experience, and whilst it hadn’t been quite that, he’d made love to her so carefully, so gently that she’d cried, because she’d had such a crush on Jim Allen. Such a huge, heartbreaking crush, and to feel him actually making love to her had been the biggest dream come true.

She bit down on her lip as his fingers gently stroked her breasts, his quiet groans turning her on to the point where she didn’t think she could take anymore. She didn’t even care that his office had no lock, that anyone could walk in at any second, it didn’t matter. She didn’t care. She’d waited so long to feel this way again, waited so long to have him touch her naked skin, waited so long to feel him this close, but the pain it was actually causing now that he was here was indescribable. Because this shouldn’t be happening.

‘Jesus, Amber, baby. You grew up good…’ Jim groaned, lifting her up onto his desk. She kicked off her shoes, allowing him to slide her jeans down over her thighs, throwing them aside before doing the same with her underwear until she was naked and exposed, but it felt almost exhilarating. Freeing himself with a speed that was almost record-breaking, he pushed her legs apart, taking just a second to look at her, just a second before he’d taken his place back where Amber had let very few men go since.

She closed her eyes again, leaning back and wrapping her legs around him as she felt him push inside her, and it was a feeling she’d never forgotten. A feeling she’d missed like the most addictive drug there ever was, and not even Ryan Fisher could give her the fix she really needed. Even the most beautiful man in football couldn’t compare to this man here with her now.

‘Don’t think about him,’ Jim whispered, his mouth resting on hers. ‘Don’t do that. Don’t. You’re with me, baby. You’re with me now.’

‘Jim…’

‘Sshh, it’s okay. It’s okay.’

She should be feeling guilty, but then, why should she? Her and Ryan, they may be a couple, but as far as a committed relationship went they were so far away from that. It wasn’t something Amber thought either of them were ready for, and the fact she was here, with Jim, went a long way to proving that point even further. For all she knew Ryan had been with other women when she wasn’t around – they’d never laid down ground rules or issued conditions. It wasn’t that kind of relationship, so she couldn’t let guilt get in the way.

Sliding her hand round the back of his neck, she pulled Jim closer, desperate to feel his mouth on hers again, his lips soft and welcoming as they kissed her slow and deep. Kisses that sent her head spinning and her stomach cartwheeling; kisses that spelt trouble, but what was she supposed to do? She could feel him inside her, deep inside her, and every memory, every beautiful, painful memory of the past came crashing over her like a tidal wave of emotion that was hard to control. But he was holding her so tight, saying all the right things, making her feel everything she’d ever wanted to feel, and as she felt the white-hot climax begin its climb, nothing else seemed to matter. Not Ryan, not the fact that she was getting into something she really shouldn’t be going anywhere near; none of it mattered. All that mattered was that Jim was with her; he was back. But for how long?

That question flashed briefly through her mind as she felt his body jerk inside her, his muffled cries signalling the end of the ride for him and Amber kept her eyes closed as she felt that hot rush filling her up, spreading through her like a blanket of beautiful pins and needles, each tingle reaching every last, tiny part of her. It was the most incredible feeling. Even more incredible because he’d never forgotten – he’d never forgotten that, sometimes, he needed to help her reach that endgame, too, and as he slowly withdrew he gently touched her with his fingers, their eyes locked together as his hand moved slowly back and forth until Amber reached that same white-hot climax, burying her face in his shoulder as she shuddered in his arms, her skin tingling once again. It was as if every time he touched her it sent a wave of something she couldn’t explain sweeping over her; that’s how it had been then, and it was exactly how it was now.

‘That’s why we need to be together,’ Jim whispered, lifting her down from the desk and pulling her against him. ‘It feels right, Amber. You and me.’

She looked at him, right into those almost-mesmerising eyes of his, suddenly feeling extremely vulnerable. ‘I promised myself I would never let you go there again,’ she said, pulling away from him and retrieving her discarded clothes, quickly pulling them back on. ‘I promised myself…’

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.