The Sports Star at the Chatsfield Read online

  But I had no need to worry Angus wasn’t giving me his full attention. My whole body tingled as his gaze moved over my face and body like a caress. When his eyes met mine it was like an electric charge shooting through my body. I could feel the vibration of it in my girly bits. I wasn’t used to men looking at me like that. I’m the girl next-door type. I’m not mirror-cracking ugly but neither am I billboard stunning. Think Audrey Hepburn with glasses. Yes, I know I should wear contacts but I’m hopeless at putting them in and even worse at getting them out. I once had to go to Accident and Emergency at two in the morning because I scratched my retina trying to fish out my left contact. Never again. If you think wearing glasses is nerdy, try wearing a cotton wool eye patch for ten days.

  I shifted my gaze to Angus’s hands. Something slipped in my stomach like when your foot misjudges a step. He had strong hands, square and broad with long fingers. His nails were neat, not chewed back to the armpit like mine. Don’t ask. Another long story.

  ‘You have the advantage,’ he said into the silence. ‘You know who I am but I don’t know who you are.’

  I was tempted to tell him my name. Really tempted. But I didn’t want to appear like one of his star-struck groupies. I could see a gaggle of them outside the hotel being kept back by security. Most of them looked underage. There was no way I was going to let him think I was his for the picking. That was my mistake at that stupid party. I went off with the first guy who was nice to me. I’ve learned my lesson since then. That’s another way I compensate for being shy. Stubborn pride. ‘Are your friends normally this noisy?’ I said.

  ‘They’re on their best behaviour tonight.’

  ‘I would hate to see them at their worst.’

  He kept looking at me with that steady gaze, his brow slightly puckered as if he couldn’t quite make me out. ‘You don’t like seeing people have fun?’

  ‘I don’t like seeing grown men act like schoolboys,’ I quipped back tartly, sounding like my boarding school housemistress. ‘That blonde guy had his feet on the table.’

  I could see a glint of amusement in his gaze as it held mine. ‘Maybe I should ask you to coach them in how to get their knuckles off the floor.’

  He was laughing at me. Nothing irritates me more than people – particularly men – mocking me. I gave him a little glower in return. ‘I suppose you only came here to be noticed,’ I said. ‘You could have chosen a less popular bar if you wanted to keep a low profile. But you love all the attention, don’t you? You crave it. You get off on it. All those silly girls outside falling over themselves to catch a glimpse of you turns you on. I suppose you find a different one every night to sleep with, do you?’ I was on a roll. I hadn’t been on a soapbox before so I was enjoying the sense of power it gave me. ‘I hope you check their ID first. Some of them look like they’re barely out of nappies.’

  He still sat there watching me with that slanted smile. His eyes however, had lost their humorous glint and were now as hard as diamonds. I felt a frisson pass over me from head to foot. I don’t think I’ve ever made anyone angry before. There was something rather exciting about it. I guess it was because I’m normally such a bland person that no one bothers to feel anything around me other than a lack of interest. I had got Angus Knight’s attention and – to borrow my earlier phrase – I was getting off on it.

  He shifted his mouth in an I’m-counting-to-ten-before-I-speak manner. I saw his jaw work for a moment as if he were controlling the urge to throw a cutting remark my way. I must admit I admire self-control in a man. My father has a filthy temper so I guess that’s why. I’ve seen him tear more strips off our household staff over the years than a painter and decorator does wallpaper off a wall.

  ‘Do you normally pick fights with strangers when you get stood up or is this just a one off?’ Angus said in an enviably calm tone.

  I bristled like a hedgehog being poked at by a stick. I could feel every millimetre of my skin lifting. What was it about this man that made me feel so prickly? I could feel my cheeks boiling but I still wouldn’t back down. Told you I could be stubborn. ‘How does it feel to know all those girls only want you for your fame?’ I said. ‘It’s not like they like you as a person. It’s your status and money they’re attracted to. They won’t be around when you can’t kick a football anymore or at least not unless you pay them.’

  The top edge of his mouth lifted a little higher and those amazing eyes darkened to sapphire. But strangely there was no sign of hardness in them now. His gaze had that amused twinkle again. I got the feeling he was enjoying our little battle. That he somehow knew I wasn’t the prickly uptight princess I was making myself out to be. ‘How much?’ he said.

  I frowned so hard my glasses nearly slipped off the bridge of my nose. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  His glittering eyes held mine in a lock that made the base of my spine feel like sand shifting through an egg timer. ‘How much to spend the night with me?’

  My eyes widened to saucers. Not teacup saucers. Flying saucers. Those humungous CG ones like in a big budget sci-fi movie. I thought I’d misheard him. Could he really have propositioned me? Me? ‘Did you just ask me to… to…?’ I couldn’t complete the sentence.

  He did it for me. ‘Sleep with me.’

  I was beyond anger. I was vibrating in my chair like a battery-operated toy soldier. There was more steam coming out of my ears than from an espresso machine during the morning rush hour. A New York rush hour, that is. I opened and closed my mouth. Open. Snap. Open. Snap. What the hell did he think I was? An escort? A high-street hooker looking for business? I had never been so insulted. Not that I’ve got anything against escorts and prostitutes. Each to their own, I always say. Did Angus Knight think because my ‘date’ hadn’t shown up I would accept him instead? What a prize jerk.

  He was sitting there with a sardonic smile on his face. Watching me. Mocking me. I curled what was left of my nails into my palms. I had never slapped anyone in my life and I wasn’t going to start now. And certainly not in the middle of The Chatsfield bar where there were CCTV cameras and security personnel to witness it.

  But I was tempted. Oh, but how I was tempted.

  I reached blindly for my phone and rose from my chair with as much dignity as I could muster. ‘Will you excuse me?’ I said. ‘I have to make a call.’ I was going to add “To my pimp” but I thought that was going a little too far.

  I clutched my phone in one hand and my purse in the other and stalked out of the bar, mentally preparing myself for a cacophony of raucous male laughter when Angus Knight joined his friends.

  But when I glanced back on my way to the exit, he was still sitting where I had left him, frowning into his empty glass.

  Chapter Two

  I was in a cab halfway back to my flat when my phone rang. At least I thought it was my phone. ‘Hello?’

  There was a strange silence… a breathing silence.

  ‘Um… Is Angus there?’ A soft and very young female voice asked.

  I felt a cold feeling slide over my flesh. I pulled my phone away from my ear to glance at the screen. Horror scudded through my veins. It wasn’t my phone! ‘Erm, no,’ I said. ‘You have the wrong number. I mean the wrong person. I –’

  ‘Please, will you just hand the phone to him?’ There was an edge of desperation in the young girl’s tone. ‘I need to speak to him. Urgently.’

  I mentally rehearsed my lecture about teenagers dating men far too old for them. I knew I had to tread carefully as I remembered all too well how emotional and irrational I was back then. If anyone said I couldn’t do something I immediately wanted to do it. Hence the aforementioned eighteenth birthday party and the knockout punch and gross sex. ‘Look, I know he’s super attractive but underneath all that sports star pizzazz he’s just an ordinary guy. He has to brush his teeth like we do. He has to –’

  ‘Where is he?’

  ‘Like… right now?’ I asked, picturing him with a faceless woman back in his suite. Maybe two women. Ho
w long would it take him to lure someone into his bed? I had resisted but then I wasn’t normal.

  ‘Are you with him in his room?’ the girl asked.

  ‘No!’ Gawd. I sounded so priggish. Miss Fisher would be so proud. ‘I’m in a cab.’

  ‘Then please hand him the phone.’

  ‘Erm… I can’t do that right now…’

  ‘Why not?’ the girl asked. ‘Isn’t he with you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then what are you doing with his phone?’

  ‘I took it by mistake.’

  I heard her suck in a breath. ‘You mean you stole it?’

  The accusation made my blood turn to ice. I glanced behind to see if a chain of cop cars were chasing me. Sirens blaring. Lights flashing. Yes, I know. I have an overactive imagination. There was nothing there but the usual crowd of cars and cabs trying to negotiate their way through the rain-sodden streets of London. ‘I didn’t steal it,’ I said. ‘It was next to mine on the table and I picked it up instead of –’

  ‘Are you from the press?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then who are you?’ Suspicion curled around every word.

  What was with this kid? She acted like she was Angus Knight’s personal bodyguard or something. Jeeze Louise. She didn’t sound any older than fourteen or fifteen. ‘My name is Alice Hammond. I’m a museum curator.’

  ‘Are you dating my brother?’

  ‘Your… brother?’

  I felt a twinge of shame for leaping to conclusions so readily. I’d assumed Angus Knight was grooming her for his own sleazy purpose. To find he had a baby sister was strangely… appealing. I found myself wondering what she looked like. I’m pretty sure I’d never heard a whisper of her mentioned in the press. Perhaps he shielded her from the scrutiny of the media. It was exactly what a loving and protective older brother would do. I felt a pang of envy. I would have loved an older brother to stick up for me when I was young. In fact, I could do with one even now. He would be able to stand up to my (our) father and tell him off for being so preoccupied with work and his love life that he didn’t see the loneliness I felt.

  ‘I’m really his step-sister really but he never calls me that,’ the girl said. ‘My mother married his father when I was eight. I’m Brianna by the way.’

  ‘Nice to, erm, meet you, Brianna.’

  ‘How long have you been seeing Angus?’ Brianna asked. ‘He hasn’t had a proper girlfriend for years. Not since Krystal with a K dumped him for the coach when he was playing for another team. You probably read about it in the press.’

  I hadn’t but I was going to. I liked this kid. She was a fount of information about Angus. Not the confident playboy who strutted his stuff in the bar with his loud mates. But the sensitive man who hadn’t committed to a relationship since a two-timing partner had hurt him. ‘I’m not dating him,’ I said, suddenly wishing I were. ‘We met by accident at The Chatsfield.’

  ‘Is he still there?’ Brianna asked. ‘At The Chatsfield?’

  ‘I guess so.’

  ‘Then you’ll have to take his phone back to him.’

  I bit down on my lip. I didn’t fancy having to face him after the way I’d spoken to him. That’s another thing you should know about me. I’m a coward. ‘Maybe I could post it to him.’

  ‘That would take too long. Besides, aren’t you missing yours?’

  I would be if anyone called or texted me late on a Saturday night. On any night. I wasn’t on Twitter because I can do without the public humiliation of having zero followers. I have a Facebook page but it’s more of a Fakebook page. I pretend to be having fun. I even pretended I was in a relationship for a couple of months. I even wrote– ‘It’s complicated’. Pathetic, I know.

  But then I remembered my father. What if he called and Angus Knight answered the phone? Unlike me, my father is an avid football fan. He would act all embarrassingly obsequious and sycophantic if he knew he was speaking to one of the sport’s most talented players.

  I had to get my phone back!

  I covered the mouthpiece of the phone while I quickly directed the cab driver to retrace his steps. ‘Do you know what room your brother’s staying in?’ I asked Brianna.

  There was a slight pause. ‘I don’t normally give out that sort of information.’

  ‘It’s OK,’ I said. ‘I just want to hand him his phone and get mine.’

  ‘Don’t you like him?’

  ‘I’m sure he’s really lovely but I’m not –’

  ‘He’s nothing like they make him out to be in the press,’ Brianna said. ‘He’s always doing stuff for charity but he never lets anyone know about it. He pays my school fees. I would never be able to go to Roedean without his help.’

  Yikes! I thought. Talk about exclusive and expensive. Roedean was where the royals sent their girls.

  Brianna was still singing his praises. ‘He paid off my mother’s mortgage when she married his father and he sponsors dozens of kids in Africa. He hates the spotlight but he puts up with it because he knows there’s a limit on the time he’ll be able to play top-level football. He’s not doing it for him. He’s doing it for us. His family. Me.’

  I was starting to regret the way I’d spoken to him. Big time. Just shows you should never judge a book, and all that. ‘I’m heading back to The Chatsfield now,’ I said. ‘Do you want me to get him to call you?’

  ‘No, it’s OK, I don’t want to bother him.’

  I frowned as the cab swished its way towards the hotel. ‘But I thought you said it was urgent.’

  ‘I was just having a moment,’ Brianna said. ‘I’m over it now. Talking to you helped.’

  I felt a space inside my chest grow warm. ‘It did?’

  ‘Sure. You sound nice.’

  ‘Oh… Thanks…’ I was glad inside the cab was dark because I could feel my cheeks blushing. ‘I liked talking to you too.’

  We chatted some more about school and girly stuff. I got the sense Brianna was a bit like me. Lacking in confidence and a bit overwhelmed by the In Crowd. At fourteen she was still finding where she belonged. I also got the feeling she was homesick but was too embarrassed to admit it. I encouraged her to stay true to her values, unlike me who had drunk that wretched punch in an effort to fit in. We ended the call with a promise to befriend each other on Facebook.

  I would like to say I continued the rest of the journey to the hotel with Angus’s phone switched off so I didn’t have to intercept any more of his personal calls. But before I knew it I found myself scrolling through his favourites. Dad, Brianna, Margaret (I wondered if that was Brianna’s mum as she was next to her), Ken (I’m pretty sure that was his team’s coach) and Brad, Tim and Rob. That was it. I had more favourites than him. Can you believe that? It told me a lot about him. He didn’t allow many people into his inner circle. Only the people he loved and trusted. No hangers on. No false friends or show pony followers.

  I looked at the list and wondered if there was a space there for me…

  The phone suddenly rang and I almost dropped it in surprise. It was an unidentified number but I knew in a flash who was calling. It was me. I mean him with my phone. ‘Hello, Angus Knight’s phone,’ I answered as crisply as any personal assistant would do.

  ‘You have my phone.’ He said it like he was using full stops after every word. You. Have. My. Phone.

  ‘I know. I’m sorry. I must have picked it up by mistake.’

  ‘You expect me to believe that?’ I didn’t care for the tone he was using. Insinuating. Cynical.

  I decided not to bite back. I figured I’d done enough damage. ‘Your sister called.’

  ‘Is she OK?’ There was a thread of concern in his voice.

  ‘I think she’s homesick.’

  I heard him release a long breath. ‘Yeah, I know. I’m going down next weekend to take her out for lunch or shopping or a movie or something.’

  ‘That sounds like a good idea,’ I said. ‘Boarding school can be a lonely place.’


  There was another beat of silence.

  ‘Your father called.’

  My stomach clenched. ‘Oh…’

  ‘He said he forgot about your birthday. His secretary forgot to put it in his diary.’

  ‘Oh… right…’ I stared at the droplets of rain on the window of the cab. They reminded me of tears.

  ‘How far away are you?’

  I blinked and looked outside as the glittering Chatsfield came into view. ‘We’re pulling into the hotel now.’

  As the cab drew nearer I could see Angus waiting at the entrance. He was holding my phone. I decided then and there I wasn’t going to wash it ever again. Not that I’ve ever washed it before or anything.

  He opened the door of the cab and paid off the driver with a sizeable tip before I could murmur a protest. He put a hand beneath my elbow and led me inside out of the rain. I’m not sure why I didn’t just hand him his phone and take mine and scoot off.

  Well, maybe that’s not strictly true. I knew exactly why I followed him into the hotel. It was my twenty-fifth birthday and I didn’t want to spend it alone.

  We were standing in a quiet corner near a large arrangement of flowers when he handed me my phone. My fingers brushed against his as we did the exchange. I could feel the warmth of his hand on my phone and wondered what it would feel like on my body. Touching me. Stroking me. Caressing me. His eyes met mine in a sizzling look that made my insides quiver with lust.

  ‘I’m sorry about what I said in the bar earlier,’ he said. ‘I was being a moron.’

  ‘You’re filthy rich. You’re allowed to be.’

  He gave me a crooked smile. ‘I know you’re not that sort of girl. I could tell that from the moment I saw you sitting there chewing at your lip.’

  ‘It makes a change from chewing my nails.’

  He picked up one of my hands and brushed his thumb pad over my bitten fingertips. It was as soft as the brush of a feather but it made my whole body shudder with pleasure. ‘How often does your father forget your birthday?’