Play Maker (3 page)

T
here were
curves and then there were
curves
. I headed towards the blonde bombshell like a compass finding north, totally mindless of everyone else around me. I only had eyes for her, that blonde hair and those red, red lips. And those curves. Fuck yeah, curves from here to eternity. She was the definition of va-va-voom, with a body that seemed to strain against her form-fitting uniform.

I preferred my women in as little clothes as possible, but even I couldn’t deny that she somehow made a standard black shirt and vest look positively sinful. It helped that her cleavage was on full display, two mounds of soft creamy skin that I was more than eager to explore. And I wouldn’t stop there. Oh no, a woman like this took time. Hours, in fact. I was confident I could devote at least two of those hours to just her bottom lip, full and supple. And the way she was looking at me, her tongue sweeping across that same bottom lip, I could tell that she was more than up for such an exploration.

When I reached the bar, she placed her hands on the polished wood and leaned forward, giving me the best view in the house. Goddamn those tits were amazing.

“What can I get you?” she asked, her voice husky and full of promise. Was she chewing gum? She was and it was kind of adorable. But before I could say anything she flashed me a wicked grin. “No, wait, I know exactly what you want.”

Then she turned away, giving me a back view that was just as spectacular as the front. I had to bite back a groan. I took a seat at the bar. Clearly the best seat in the house.

She turned back, brandishing a bottle of amber liquid, which she poured into a glass and slid towards me.

“Best in the house,” she told me.

Reaching for the drink, my hand brushed against hers. A jolt of electricity rocketed through me. From the catch in her breath, I could tell she felt it too.

Trying to maintain my cool, I took a sip of my drink. Damn, that was a good whiskey. And exactly the way I liked it, neat.

She leaned forward again, resting on her elbows, watching me drink. I knew she was goading me, trying to get me to look down her shirt again, but I was a gentleman and didn’t take the bait. At least, I was a gentleman for ten full seconds and then I looked exactly where the lady wanted me to look.

After looking my fill, I glanced back up, to find her blue eyes twinkling with amusement. She blew an impressive bubble with her gum. Peppermint, I guessed. I lifted my glass and took another sip. “Cheers.”

She smiled.

What a smile. Something in my chest twisted. “I’d ask what a girl like you was doing in a place like this, but I have a feeling you deserve a better line than that.”

“Oh I do,” she readily agreed, her tone playful. “A much better line, in fact.”

“It would have to be one that pays tribute to your beauty, spirit and obvious talent.”

“My
obvious
talent?” She was leaning forward again, clearly thinking I was talking about the twin talents peering out from her gaping shirt. I couldn’t help but appreciate her dirty mind.

But I pointed at my glass. “Your talent for finding the perfect drink. How did you know?”

She lifted one slender shoulder. “I have a knack for it,” she told me, her voice almost like a purr. “It’s easy to tell what someone wants if you know what to look for.”

“Oh?” I sipped again, enjoying the way the whiskey warmed my throat. “And what do I want?”

“Well, most of your teammates seem to like to play James Bond,” she teased. “I’ve been making martinis all night. But you—,” she leaned closer, her red lips near my ear, as if to share a secret. “You want something different. Something pure. Intense. Immediate.”

For fucks sake. My cock stirred. I couldn’t remember the last time I wanted a woman as much as I wanted her. I was about ready to sweep the bar clean and take her right there in front of everyone.

Instead I nudged the glass back towards her and waited for her to pour another round. “One for you too,” I said, my voice calm even though my entire body seemed to be on fire. And it wasn’t because of the whiskey.

She hesitated, but only for a moment and then poured herself a glass.

I raised mine. “To knowing what you want.”

“I’ll drink to that,” she said, and downed her glass in one go.

A
younger me
would have stayed at the bar all night, ogling her and sipping whiskey. But an older and wiser me knew that even though the attraction between us was intense and unmistakable, she was working and whatever was going to happen between us would have to wait. I didn’t mind though. A little anticipation never hurt anyone.

And I wasn’t lacking in female attention that night. The bar was full of young, gorgeous women, though each and every one of them paled in comparison to the goddess behind the bar. A petite brunette in a white dress in particular was very interested in attracting my attention and I found myself with a bit of a shadow as the evening wore on. Still, I took every excuse I could find to refresh her drink or mine at the bar, even if it meant she followed me there.

“So I have to know.” The brunette trailed behind me as I took our empty drinks to the other side of the room. There were two bright pink spots on her cheeks.

“Two waters,” I told my favorite bartender, cutting my shadow off.

“I want wine,” white dress pouted.

“You’ve had enough,” I told her.

“I’m fine!” my shadow chirped and then hiccupped.

“Water,” I said again and the gorgeous blonde smiled and complied.

“Two waters,” she pushed them towards me.

I noticed her hand lingered on the glasses, and I made sure to brush my fingers across hers as I reached for them. That same rush of electricity crackled through my veins. Goddamn, I couldn’t wait for this party to be over.

I handed one to my companion, who took a long swig and then launched back into the conversation that had been interrupted.

“I just have to know if the tabloids are true!” she blurted out.

“Tabloids?” the blonde asked, quirking an eyebrow in my direction.

“About all the women!” the brunette slurred. I took her empty glass and placed it back on the bar. The bartender immediately refilled it with water and I shoved it back into the brunette’s hand. But she barely noticed, turning her attention to the woman who was doing her best to hydrate her. “He’s a playboy,” she loudly proclaimed, placing a hand on my chest. “At least, according to the magazines.”

Jesus, I thought. Those damn tabloids were going to be the death of me.

“Well, you know what they say about what you read in the papers,” I peeled the brunette’s hand off my chest.

“Is that so?” the bartender asked, but she didn’t sound shocked. No, she sounded interested, her red lips curving up into a smile. An inviting smile. And though it seemed impossible, my interest in her increased even more. “So it’s not true?”

“Depends on what you consider true.” I placed the brunette on a barstool and directed my full attention to the goddess in front of me. “Do I enjoy the company of women? Yes. Do I enjoy the company of many women? Yes. Do they enjoy my company as well, knowing full well what my intentions are? Yes. Does that make me a playboy?”

“Depends,” the bartender said. “What
are
your intentions exactly?”

“Oh,” I leaned forward, capturing the collar of her shirt between my fingers. “My intentions are very, very bad.”

Her eyes caught mine and we were close, so close that if I had lifted my chin, my mouth would have found hers. But I knew that when I kissed her – because it was very clear it would be ‘when’ not ‘if’ – I wouldn’t be able to stop until we were naked and catching our breath. I wouldn’t be able to stop until I felt her come in my arms.

“You know.” She sounded how I felt – completely out of breath. “The bar closes at 2am.”

“Does it now?” I asked, still holding on to her collar, the fabric smooth and silky against my fingers.

“Yes,” she murmured, those red lips dangerously tempting.

“You know.” I leaned my mouth towards her ear and felt her shudder, just slightly. I smiled. “I have a bar of my own upstairs.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.” I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. I felt like a rocket about to explode. Then she leaned back, her collar slipping out from between my fingers. I was already imagining how I was going to take it off of her. Slowly. Very slowly.

“Well, maybe I’ll be thirsty after closing,” she purred and, with one final wink, she turned away from me and towards some of my teammates who were waiting patiently at the bar. “What can I get you?” she asked, and I was pleased to note that the question held none of the teasing and desire that had filled her voice a few moments ago when her lips were mere inches from my own.

“I don’t feel so good,” the brunette moaned, reminding me of her presence. She had begun to slip off her barstool and I caught her at just the right moment before she ended up in a puddle on the floor of the bar.

I sighed and gestured to Ethan who was at the other end of the room.

“This one couldn’t stand up to your charms?” he joked when he reached me.

“After the amount of drinks she’s had she couldn’t stand up to anyone’s,” I said wryly. “Can you get her a cab?”

He nodded and looped an arm around the drunk woman, leading her out of the bar all the while trying to get an address out of her. Ethan would make sure she got home safe. She might wake up disappointed she didn’t bag the Play Maker, but at least she wouldn’t wake up regretting anything. I didn’t sleep with women who didn’t know what they were getting into. And I certainly didn’t sleep with women who were fall down drunk.

I glanced back at the bartender. Now that I knew exactly what the evening had in store, I couldn’t wait for this party to end. Pulling my phone from my pocket I glanced at the time.

“Fuck,” I muttered when I saw it was only midnight. 2am never felt so far away.

D
ammit
, I thought, looking at the clock. Only 1am? Why was 2am so far away? Ever since my close encounter with the hunky football star – isn’t that how they referred to soccer players in the UK? – my body felt like it was on high alert, practically humming with the sexual tension he had left behind. I was also having a whole hell of a lot of trouble concentrating on the work at hand. Two martinis had already gone out without olives and I’d forgotten the ice for several drinks ordered on the rocks. I’d be embarrassed if I weren’t so damn turned on.

At least everyone in the bar was properly sloshed so no one seemed to be complaining. In fact, by all accounts, the evening appeared to be a huge success. Even Manager Steve was smiling, in his sweaty, pale way. And luckily keeping a good distance from me.

“You keep checking your phone,” Maya teased as she came over to grab a bottle of gin. Like I had said to the hottie, martinis were high on the menu tonight. We’d be lucky if we ended the evening with a single drop of gin or swig of olive juice left in the joint.

“Just checking the time,” I said, trying to be coy and failing miserably.

“Hey, if that hunk of man was waiting for me after closing time, I’d be watching the clock too,” Maya whistled under her breath. “If you didn’t have dibs—”

“But I do,” I quickly said and she laughed.

“I know, I know.” She held up her hands. “Wow. I’ve never seen you get so possessive.”

“Not possessive,” I corrected. “Horny. Extremely, extremely horny.”

“Yeah, that was pretty obvious the way you two were circling each other an hour ago,” Maya patted me on the shoulder. “I’m surprised you didn’t just do it on the bar.”

Oh, the thought had crossed my mind. A few times. In a variety of positions. Me on top, him on top. Me bent over the bar, him behind. Me on one of the barstools—.

I quickly cleared my throat. “Well, I never. I’m a proper lady,” I told her seriously. Maya stared at me for a moment and then we both broke out laughing.

“You’re a proper slut.” She gave me a one-armed hug. “And that’s why I love you.”

“Love you too, fellow slut.” I hugged back.

“You’re sure you wouldn’t be interested in a trade?” she asked innocently into my shoulder. “His friend is pretty cute too.”

I glanced over where my hottie was talking to a good-looking man in a suit and tie. He was attractive but a little stuffy. Proper. Like James Bond, but without Pussy Galore.

“Mmmm.” I pretended to consider. “Nope, sorry, Maya. He’s cute, but no one – not even David Beckham himself – would get me to give up my dibs on this 2am date.”

“Dammit,” Maya bemoaned, but I could tell she wasn’t upset. The slut code was law, one we both willingly followed. It was what made our friendship so strong. Like me, Maya had her reasons for not wanting to be in a relationship and like me, she kept those reasons close to her chest. We were friends because we understood each other’s secrets. If she really wanted my guy that evening, I would have given him up in a second. But she would never ask that. Not when the chemistry was so hot. So undeniable. I had her back and she had mine.

“Oh shit,” Maya muttered. “Here comes Big Red.”

I sighed, pulling away from my best friend and plastering a smile on my face as a very drunk, very red-faced man stumbled up to the bar, his arm around a very young woman.

“La-dies,” he slurred, erasing all the usual appeal of a British accent. He practically stumbled into the bar, the petite thing at his side doing her best to guide him safely into a stool. “Looks like we’ve got all the makings for a foursome, don’t you think?”

This man, who I could only assume was one of the players by both his accent and the throng of beautiful women surrounding him despite the slovenly way he was dressed, had been blatantly hitting on both me and Maya all evening. She had dubbed him Big Red, namely because of the color of his face, which was ruddy, his eyes bloodshot. He was also quite a few years older than most of the other players and while he was still pretty fit, he definitely had the makings of a beer gut. However, he seemed oblivious to that fact, choosing to wear a rather tight, white shirt with quite a few stains on it. Yep, he had to be a big deal to show up looking the way he did and still have a beautiful young woman at his side.

A beautiful young woman who looked on the shy side of twenty and was definitely too good for him. I saw her wince at the foursome joke, but still she didn’t abandon him at the bar, like I would have done. Then again, we all did stupid things – and stupid people – when we were young. I wasn’t going to judge her.

Him on the other hand, well, I felt perfectly qualified to judge him. He was the perfect example of a sleazeball – someone at the opposite end of the playboy spectrum. He lurched into situations, not taking note of the atmosphere or even the participants, and just hit on literally anything with tits. It had the subtly of taking his pants off and waving his dick around, ready to fuck the first thing that showed interest.

I didn’t need to be the only girl in a guy’s life, but I preferred to be the only one he was trying to fuck at that exact moment. Why sleep with a guy who clearly thought of women as interchangeable as this guy clearly did? God knows I’d had enough bad sex with guys like that before I wised up.

“Come on ladies,” he half whined. “It was a joke. Can’t you take a joke? This is why people think that women aren’t funny.”

He glanced expectantly over at his date. That was her cue to jump in and try to illustrate that she wasn’t like us humorless shrews behind the bar, that she thought he was funny. But either she didn’t pick up on the cue or she wasn’t playing that game.

I made it a rule to stay away from guys who pitted women against each other. There were enough men for all of us. I wasn’t going to feed into some dude’s cat fight fantasy just to get laid.

So instead, I just smiled at Big Red’s date.

“What can I get you?” I asked her, trying to make it as clear as possible that I wasn’t competition. “White wine?”

She smiled back. “Yes, please.”

I glanced over at Big Red, who had his meaty hands sprawled across the bar. I immediately spotted the white tan line on his ring finger. Gross. Lazy
and
philandering. I glanced over at his date. Clearly not his wife, but did she know?

“Martini?” I asked him, even though I knew that’s what he’d be drinking. No one wanted to be James Bond more than this guy.

“Shaken not stirred,” he slurred, making my point perfectly. God, I loved it when I was right on the money.

I poured a glass of white wine and prepared his martini. I slid them across the bar and waited for him to take a sip before I asked in the most innocent way I could muster:

“So, your wife stayed home tonight?”

He choked on the drink, gin spilling from his gullet.

“Wife?” his date asked, sounding appropriately offended.

“I can explain,” he sputtered. I passed him a napkin.

“No need,” she said and got up from the bar. “I’ll find my own ride home.”

Good girl, I thought, watching her leave. This was a mistake that she’ll be glad she avoided.

“You bitch!” Big Red’s eyes swung to me. “I’m divorced!” He pushed back from the bar, stumbling and almost falling. No one moved to help him. Someone was going to have a hell of a hangover tomorrow.

I put on my dumb blonde face. “Whoops!” I should have felt worse than I did.

“I’m not leaving a tip.” He shook his finger at me.

I shrugged. He had already stuffed the tip jar earlier in the evening before the young woman showed up, when he was seated at the bar staring greedily down my shirt. I doubted he had any cash left in his wallet anyways. I blew him a kiss as he staggered out of the bar and as my eyes swept across the crowd, they found a now-familiar blue pair.

My soccer hottie was standing at the other side of the room, giving me a great view of his long, lean form. His shirt was stretched tight across that wide chest, his jeans snug around his muscular thighs. And that hair. I was more than ready to have my fingers tangled in it. He gave me a wolfish grin, one that sent a chill down my spine. Now this was the kind of playboy I was very, very interested in. He held up his watch and gave me a wink. I bit back a sigh. Was it 2am yet?

W
hat seemed like hours later
, Manager Steve finally locked the doors after the last guest staggered out. He went to the backroom to avoid clean up, as he always did, leaving Maya and me to finishing closing up.

“Look at this,” Maya crowed, holding up our overflowing tip jars.

I whistled. It had been a good night. I tried to sneak a look at my phone, knowing that the rest of my night had the potential to be pretty great as well, but also knowing that there was a half-trashed bar standing between me and a seriously good time. As well as a 4am curfew that I never, ever broke.

I picked up the broom, but Maya snatched it away.

“Get out of here,” she said.

“What? No,” I argued. “This is way too much work for one person.”

“Please,” she snorted. “Like you haven’t closed for me before.”

“Not after a party like this,” I insisted, trying to take the broom back, but she wouldn’t let go. “You know I can take it from you.”

“I’d like to see you try,” she challenged, her grip tight. She might have been skinny, but she was strong.

“You’re ridiculous.” I glanced over at the mountain of glasses on the bar and puddles of spilled drinks on tables and the floor.

“I’m a good friend,” she corrected. “Go. Get your sexy time on.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded. “You’ll owe me one,” she told me, her gaze serious. “Go on, get out of here.”

I was touched by her generosity. “Really?”

“Get!” She smacked me on the butt. “Before I change my mind!”

I didn’t need another urging. I gave her a quick hug and grabbed my bag from behind the bar. Usually I would have taken a few moments to freshen up, take my hair down and reapply my lipstick, but my feet – and libido – didn’t want to wait. I was ready to see exactly how well he would live up to his reputation. Just remembering the spark that had gone through me when our hands touched made me tremble imagining how it would feel when he touched me in other, more intimate places.

We hadn’t made any plans – hell, we hadn’t even made a formal introduction – but I wasn’t worried. I knew he would be waiting for me. And as I rounded the corner leading into the lobby, there he was, his long legs propped up as he reclined in one of the leather chairs in reception. When he spotted me, he rose, nice and slowly, giving me a great look at his fit frame, filling out his clothes in the most perfect way.

“Hi,” he said as I reached him.

“Hi,” I tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear.

“Want a drink?” he asked, his hands shoved casually in his pockets.

I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. “I’d love one.”