RISKY PLAY (RED CARD #1) BY RACHEL VAN DYKEN Page 0,9
wanting to do more, then pulled away and made sure she made it safely into her room.
When I opened my own door, loneliness descended.
I hadn’t planned on this.
To be thirty and without a wife, kids. Family was important to me. The only thing that rivaled that was soccer, and that was because my father had made it so.
I took a quick shower then checked my cell.
Ten missed calls.
All from my mother, who had been expecting me this week in the States, and one from my dad.
She was worried.
And lonely now that she and my dad were separated and living in different countries.
I was supposed to be in Seattle by now, relaxing before the season.
Instead, I escaped to the first place that caught my eye on the search engine. Maybe it was fate?
I sent off a text. I’m fine, something came up, I’ll see you in a few days.
The next phone call was from my father; he’d left a voice mail. “Look, I know this decision did not come lightly, you love soccer, I love soccer. I don’t want to see you throw your life away, but you’re old enough to make your own choices. I talked with Philamena, and we decided that I will visit for the holidays, but I’ll do the cooking, God knows that woman burns rice because she knows it drives me crazy.” I snickered and kept listening. “I just want you to be happy.”
The voice mail finished.
And the guilt descended.
He wanted me to be happy, and he’d sacrificed everything in order for me to get it, and even though I took care of him financially, I still felt like I’d abandoned him when I took the job with the Seattle team.
I brushed the thoughts away and quickly dressed in a pair of white linen pants and a button-down blue linen shirt.
With five minutes to spare I was knocking on Ashley’s door. She opened on the third knock. “Ready?”
“Is it on purpose?” I asked, casually eying her tight white dress and the way the straps disappeared in a crisscross pattern down the small of her back as she did a little turn. Her tanned skin was like a homing beacon, I couldn’t look away.
“What?” Her lips were brushed with something shiny that my mouth decided it was going to sample later.
“Did you dress like that to torture me?” I hit the elevator button. “You look . . .” I shook my head and exhaled. “Like cake.”
“Cake?”
“Before you get offended, I want to make you aware of the very serious relationship I have with cake. Get between me and cake and you’re taking your life into your hands. And you?” I leaned in and sniffed her neck, then pressed an open-mouthed kiss below her ear. “You’d be chocolate sin filled with molten lava spilling out onto the plate, waiting to be slowly licked up. I think I’d savor you for hours, days . . .”
She shivered.
I almost hit the up button to take us back to our suites and our two empty beds.
And I knew how to make use of both of them with finesse.
Instead, we walked to dinner. Her blushing, me lusting.
Football was huge in Mexico so I wasn’t sure if I would be recognized. I’d seen posters of myself on the streets on the way in. So the minute we were seated, I excused myself and sought out our server. I took out my wallet, grabbed a few hundreds, and handed them to the surprised young man. “Make sure nobody disturbs us or recognizes me. If people want autographs, I’ll sign everything later.”
“Sí, senor.” He shook my hand.
By the time I returned to the table, Ashley had ordered wine and was giddily pointing to my glass. “Okay, honest opinion, go!”
“Something of a wine connoisseur?” I asked her.
“Something like that.” She glowed, her confidence in her own skills was sexy as hell.
I sniffed, swirled, and then tasted as the dry Cab ran down my throat and exploded into a sensation of blueberries and something tart. “That’s . . . perfect.”
She did a little mock bow. “My calling in life.”
“Drinking?”
She laughed then shrugged. “Cheers, I guess?”
Our glasses clinked together. “So what is it you do, then? You’ve got me curious.”
“Oh, um . . .” She shifted in her seat. “I actually used to work for a wine company, I was a sommelier. In layman’s terms, a wine taster.”
“You need to have the perfect palate for that.” No wonder she had such a perfect mouth.