Striker - Michelle Betham

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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?’

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