Player's Challenge (8 page)

Groaning loudly, Devin raked his hand over his mouth. “No.”

“Why not? It’ll be great publicity for you.”

“Can you believe the club charges three hundred pounds per child to participate? I love kids but most of them come from posh households. I would do it if the kids were selected from a lottery and weren’t born with a silver spoon in their mouths.”

His admission caused a light bulb to go off in Gemma’s head. “Have you thought about hosting your own soccer camp for disadvantaged children?”

“I’ve thought about it, but my schedule is so busy and with no one in my family willing to help me get the ball rolling, the idea has remained just that.”

Gemma smiled to herself. He’d just dropped a huge bargaining chip into her lap. “How about we make a deal?” She held out her hand. “You participate in Croydon’s soccer camp this weekend and I’ll plan yours.”

Devin eyed her hand, but left her hanging. “Can you plan the camp before the end of the transfer window? Once the season starts, my schedule will be all over the place.”

Shocked by the immediacy of the project, Gemma almost wavered. “It sounds like I’ll be wrangling cats, but I think I can plan and execute your event in six weeks.”

Devin blinded her with a dazzling smile, making her belly flutter with more than just hunger. “We’ve got a deal,” he said, his hand engulfing hers.

“Awesome!” Gemma shook his hand, sealing the deal. Before she pulled away, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against the corner of her mouth. The kiss was casual and brief, but it sent an electrical shock through her body, wrapping her in a sizzling web of want and desire. And the ache between her legs was so palpable she wanted to rush into the bathroom and take care of it personally. It wouldn’t be anything like banging the hell out of Devin, but it would be much better for her well-being.

Stick to the boundaries!

***

After breakfast, Devin made a pit stop at a supermarket around the corner from his flat. Since most of his food was organic and healthy, and Gemma subsisted on artificial flavors and fillers, he decided to be a gracious host and pick up a few more staples.

“You don’t have to do this,” Gemma pointed out as she walked beside him. He’d taken complete charge of the shopping cart and was now guiding them through the produce section. “I’m only staying a few days.”

“One look at my cupboards and you’re going to thank me for this. Even when the season is over, I stick to a pretty strict diet with an occasional cheat day thrown in here and there.”

Gemma eyed his trim waist. “Maybe I could adopt your habits.”

“Ready to take up my wheatgrass and green algae smoothies?”

“That sounds like a science project gone horribly wrong,” she retorted, her nose scrunching up in disgust.

Devin chuckled. “What about egg whites with spinach and a side of carrot juice?”

“Equally uninspiring.” She affected a yawn.

“Grass-fed beef with brown rice and broccoli?”

Gemma pursed her lips. She absolutely detested broccoli. “I’m seeing the light. You lead and I shall follow.”

For the next thirty minutes, they walked up and down the aisles. Like on the football pitch, Devin didn’t play around. His approach to shopping kept them moving and Gemma focused, which was good since she tended be rather scattered when she shopped and tended to forget something.

“Do you remember the time when we played that practical joke on your neighbor, Mrs. Hadley?”

“You have to be more specific. I pranked the poor dear more times than I could count.” So much so, Mrs. Hadley barely acknowledged Gemma when she visited her mum.

“When you told Mrs. Hadley her lawn was on fire…”

“And she ran outside in her nightgown and rollers, carrying a pitcher of water,” Gemma finished.

Devin doubled over in laughter. “And…and she stood there about ten minutes trying to figure out if her lawn was really on fire.”

“That was so wrong of us,” Gemma said through fits of laughter. She would never forget poor Mrs. Hadley standing in the center of her yard, completely befuddled, wearing a floral muumuu and a headful of pink sponge rollers. “I laughed so hard I think I peed on myself.”

“You didn’t.”

Noticing the sudden change in his voice, Gemma stopped dead in her tracks. Green eyes darkening to almost black, he stepped closer. Choosing flight over fight, she retreated backward and slammed into the grocery shelf. Seizing upon the opportunity, Devin placed his hand above her right shoulder. With the cart to her left, a shelf of canned fruit at her back, she was caged in on all sides.

“Remember what happened after Mrs. Hadley went back inside?”

“I-I think we resumed our studies.”

Edging closer, Devin shook his head. “No. We were laughing so hard we collapsed on the couch. The sun was streaming through the bay window in your mum’s living room and lit up your eyes, turning them a golden brown. I leaned over and kissed you.” He curved over her until he was only inches from kissing her. “I took your knickers off and licked you until you came all over my face.”

Face flushed and feeling like one huge throbbing hormone, Gemma tried to tamp down a sudden surge of desire.

“I want to—”

“Devin Spencer!”

Both of them looked toward the end of the aisle. Some bloke in a soiled mechanic’s jumper was waving his arms at them like a wild man. Thankful for the interruption, Gemma slid around Devin and placed the cart between them.

“Wanker!” he yelled. “This is for knocking Crystal Palace out of the Champions League.” He wrapped one arm around the other, shooting Croydon’s star goalie a bird.

“See what I have to put up with.” Devin glanced down at her. The corners of his mouth trembled as he struggled to keep a straight face.

“Serves you right for not sticking to the boun—”

“Don’t,” Devin growled. Forgetting they were in public, he lashed out, kicking a row of cans on the lower shelf.

Sensing his frustration and feeling quite a bit herself, Gemma stepped forward to help him clean it up.

“Don’t, unless you want to go at it right here and now.”

Gemma gulped. The heat in his gaze was disquieting. And yet, in spite of the circumstances and the small crowd gathering at either end of the aisle, she was more than a little turned on by his primitive display.

Still, she decided to err on the side of common sense and gainful employment. “I’ll see you at the car.”

Devin put the car in park, and then reached in the back seat for his gym bag.

“Remind me again why I’m doing this,” he stared out the window, his hand resting on the door handle.

“Three words: multi-million pound contract.” She paused to take a sip of her Illy coffee. She needed to charge up for what lay ahead. “You couldn’t buy this kind of PR even if you tried. Plus, it’ll knock four hours off your community service. Now stop being a baby and get out of the car.”

“You handle me so well.” Winking, he yanked on the door handle and then climbed out. He walked around to her side and Gemma fell into step beside him, her red-soled stilettos clicking on the hot asphalt.

“Quite a few media outlets have been invited, so expect anyone from the BBC to Channel 1. Of course, they’re going to ask you about the transfer window. What’s your answer?”

Devin smiled down at her and like clockwork her pulse fluttered. “Have I told you how sexy you are when you talk business?”

Gemma rolled her eyes. “Every day. You know what they say about a person who’s overly profuse with their compliments?”

“People tend to think they’re full of bollocks,” he muttered. “Gemma, I—”

“Eyes on the prize.” Gemma grabbed his arm and pulled him along. During the past week, she’d become quite adept at changing the subject whenever Devin veered to close to the boundaries.

“Now if someone asks you about the transfer window, what’s your answer?”

“Are you actually going to wear that skirt in there?”

Gemma glanced down at her camel-colored pencil skirt and its matching short-sleeved cardigan by Burberry. Her skirt had been tailored to fit snugly, but it didn’t cling like a second skin. She thought she looked rather smart. “What’s wrong with my skirt?”

His eyes raked over her. “It’s too sexy. Hugs every single curve, especially your arse. All the guys will be drawn to you like bees to honey. I swear if any of them come onto you,” he gritted out, “I might as well retire now because I’ll be sitting in jail begging for porridge for the next twenty years.”

Secretly pleased by his reaction, Gemma moved to refocus his attention. “I’m a professional, Devin. While I’m with you, as your representative, I’m officially at work. If I can live under your roof and deflect your advances, I can evade a handful of randy footballers.”

A smile touched Devin’s lips and made him impossibly more handsome. If he only knew he had nothing to worry about, since every man faded into the background whenever he was near.

“Now, if BBC’s Philomena Holt asks you about the transfer window, what are you going to say?”

Devin cleared his throat. “Yes, I’d love to have dinner with you.”

Gemma bristled. The popular sports journalist and gorgeous blonde had a twitter account dedicated to her substantial rack.

“If I have to keep it professional, so should you. Remember accountability.”

“You’re right.” Devin’s expression turned serious. “Miss Holt, I’m actively looking at all offers.”

Gemma balled up her fist like a fake microphone and shoved it into his chest. “And what are your options? Who’s shown interest?”

Still in character, Devin leaned down as if pretending to be heard in her imaginary mike. “Croydon’s my first choice, but if we can’t come to an agreement, I’ll consider other offers.”

“What other clubs? Are the offers lucrative?”

“I’m not at liberty to say. We’re still in arbitration.”

Gemma held out her hand. “Boom,” they said in unison, and pounding fists.

Now that he was back on track, Gemma pulled out the day’s agenda as she followed him through Croydon’s players’ entrance. “Let’s go over the schedule again.”

“Yes, Mum.”

Gemma suppressed a laugh. “There’s a meet-n-greet with the kids at nine. Then you’ll stretch as a group followed by some drills. Break for lunch. Afterward, you’ll divide into groups and work one-on-one.” Gemma turned the paper over, checking for any additions. “At least you have one thing going for you. The day is pretty short. You’ll be done by two o’clock.”

Devin adjusted the gym bag on his shoulder. “What are you going to be doing while I’m playing puppet.”

“I thought about sitting on the sidelines and being pretty.” At his knee jerk reaction, a black scowl that could melt snow, she laughed. “Don’t worry! I’ll be in my own personal nirvana schmoozing the press.” She held her arm out and pretended to ride the pony while smacking its rump.

They paused outside a pair of metal stadium doors leading to the players’ locker room. Before he went inside, he turned to her.

“You love your job don’t you?” he asked grinning, which of course made her smile as well.

“It’s a dream come true,” she gushed, unable to hold back her enthusiasm. “Like you, I’m extremely lucky to be doing what I love.”

He ran his index finger along his jawline and Gemma braced herself. This particular tick of Devin’s was usually followed by some off-the-cuff comment which had her hair standing on end or wetting her knickers.

His green eyes took on a thoughtful glint. “Full of bollocks?”

Smiling, Gemma waved her hand over her head. “Up to here.”

“I better go in and change.” He glanced down at his watch. “Registration’s in fifteen minutes.”

He appeared as if he wanted to say more, but he didn’t.

Somewhat deflated, Gemma stood there long after he entered the locker room.

***

“What’s up, wanker?”

Devin smacked Butler’s back on his way to his former locker. At the end of the season, the club always stripped the locker room of player’s names, especially the free agents.

Butler tugged his jersey over his head. “What drugs did you start taking?”

“I have to take drugs to support the club, give back to my community?”

“Don’t give me that kumbaya shit, mate.” Butler pushed his shaggy black hair away from his face and secured it with a rubber band. “Who twisted your arm?”

“My new agent.”

Butler’s brows shot skyward. “Sounds like I need to sign on if he can get you to straighten up and fly right.”

“
He’s
a
she
and you better back the fuck off. She doesn’t need a bloke like you for a client.”

“Oh ho! You’re fucking her already.”

“No.”

“But you want to.”

“What makes you think that?” Devin yanked his t-shirt over his head and hung it in the locker followed by his jeans.

Butler’s pale blue eyes widened. “You just confirmed it by not denying it.”

“She has a no-fraternizing agreement in her employment contract,” Devin mumbled. After changing into his soccer kit, he sat down on the bench and put on his football boots.

“So she’s open game?”

A bolt of jealously so strong he could barely see straight surged through Devin. He shot to his feet and got so up in Butler’s face he could smell the younger man’s toothpaste. “If you don’t want to pass your season physical then go ahead. But if you appreciate your knees, you’ll stay two cities away from her.”

“No need to resort to violence.” Butler threw up his hands. “I’ve got my eyes on another bird.”

“Only one?” It was Devin’s turn to be surprised. Butler juggled women better than a ball.

“For now.” Butler smirked. “Which reminds me, I need a huge favor.”

“If it involves my house, car or agent, the answer is no.” Thinking the case closed, Devin headed toward the exit.

Butler caught up to him, his boots clicking on the stained concrete floors. “I need a wing man for a double date.”

Devin shook his head. When it came to Butler, he was never surprised.

“She’s young and she’s heard all the rumors—”

“Which are all true.”

Butler chuckled. “Which is why she won’t go out with me alone.”

“I’ll pass.” Devin had enough problems of his own.

“C’mon, another lark will get your mind off that agent of yours. Both of them are gorgeous and supermodels.”

Devin didn’t expect anything less from Butler. The striker was a snob when it came to a woman’s looks.

“So what do you say?” Butler asked as they emerged onto the practice field. A cheer erupted from the mob of kids standing near the halfway line. Devin smiled. Maybe this wouldn’t be half bad.

“You in or are you going home to jack off to a picture of your agent?”

Devin’s cheeks bloomed with heat. Butler couldn’t be closer to the truth if he were a fly on his bedroom wall. Embarrassed, he dropped to his knees and pretended to tighten his laces. “I’ll think about it,” he mumbled.

“Don’t take too long to mull it over.” Butler clapped him on his back then back-pedaled onto the pitch. “The date’s tonight.”

***

She was suffering from lockjaw, but Gemma loved every single minute of her first full day representing Devin. Even better, her new client was having fun.

“Will Devin be available for comment?” Wills Dickerson asked beside her, cameraman in tow. As the sports anchor for TV3, and with an audience reach of three million viewers, he was at the top of their media list. He wasn’t bad looking either with his chiseled good looks and mocha skin which contrasted beautifully with his pearly white teeth.

“Sure…but there are a couple of others ahead of you.”

Wills edged closer, flashing his trademark smile which had women plastered to their seats during TV3’s sports segment. “If you give me the first shot at him, I’ll be sure to pepper the interview with some fluff. Put your client in a good light.”

Gemma’s pulse raced. She loved haggling. “How much fluff?”

“Forty percent.”

“Seventy percent,” she countered. “After all, this event is for the children.”

“You drive a hard bargain but you’ve got you a deal.”

Plastering on a saccharine smile, Gemma looped her arm with his. “How about we walk over together? Get a jump on the others.”

On the far end of the practice field, Devin worked with more than a dozen kids split into two groups lined up facing each other.

“Happy feet, guys. Stay on your toes!” He encouraged while they tossed a football back and forth. “Shuffle, step right,” he yelled and in unison the group moved, while the ball whizzed through the air, bouncing back and forth between the two lines.

“Always stay square to the ball.” Hands behind his back, Devin walked down the line like an army general. The only thing saving him from looking like a complete grunt was the grin on his face.

“If a ball is coming at you what do you do?”

“DON’T. ACT. REACT!”

“Looks like fun,” Wills pointed out.

“He couldn’t wait to get out there,” Gemma embellished. “You know…he’s hosting his own soccer camp in a few weeks.”

Wills eyes widened. “No. This is the first I’ve heard of it.” He fished in an army-green messenger bag and pulled out a reporter’s notepad and pencil. “Can I get more information?”

“Of course.”

While Gemma supplied Wills with the details of Devin’s camp, a referee whistle blared across the field. Footballs dropped to the ground, more than one kid groaned in dismay, and Devin’s entire group crowded around him, begging for high fives.