The Beautiful Game (Man of the Match Book 1)

by A. Meredith Walters

  I folded up the Chester scarf, glad to take it off. “I was told to go to the members’ box. Let’s go meet some football players.”

  Phil led me to the members’ box, which was little more than an enclosed space with a bar on one side and some couches.

  “So what’s this room for?” I asked, looking around.

  “For people that donate a lot of money to the club. Sponsors, ticketholders for decades. They get special perks, like being able to drink here before and during games. My cousin is a member. He pays for adverts in the program, spends quite a bit of dosh so he and his family get all sorts of privileges. Jammy bugger won’t help his cos’ out with some tickets now and again though.” He beckoned to the bartender and held up two fingers. “Two of your finest ales.”

  The bartender uncapped two beers and slid them our way. I had only just taken a drink when I was approached by a frazzled looking man in an overly tight suit. “Are you the girl who won the halftime kick off?”

  I put the beer down and nodded. “That’s me. I’m Morgan Carter.”

  “I’m Byron Wallis. I’m the Operations Manager at Foley Field. If you’re ready, I’ll take you down to the dressing room. You can meet the players and get your picture taken.” He indicated for me to follow him.

  “To the dressing room? Won’t they be…you know…dressing?” I asked, glancing at Phil.

  Byron snorted. “I assure you, they will be decent. Now come on. They’re on a bit of a tight schedule. There’s a media event several of the players need to attend.”

  Phil and I began to follow Byron but he abruptly stopped and turned to us. “I’m sorry, but only the girl can come. She won the contest.”

  “But we’re here together,” I protested, frowning. Phil looked crestfallen.

  “Sorry, those are the rules. You can wait here.” Then he walked out of the room, expecting me to follow him.

  “I’m sorry, Phil. I won’t be long. I don’t even care about meeting the team.” I wasn’t sure what to expect. Would I see Lucas? Would he talk to me? I wasn’t entirely sure how I should behave around him. He had given me the tickets but his expression earlier when he had seen me with Phil had been less than friendly.

  Phil shrugged. “I’ll order another beer. It’s fine. I’ll see you when you’re done. Maybe get me Claudio’s autograph. He’s amazing.”

  “Claudio. Got it.” I smiled and hurried out of the room. Byron was waiting for me, looking incredibly impatient.

  “Are you ready?” he asked tersely. What a pleasant guy.

  “Yes. Sorry.”

  The stadium had emptied out very quickly. There weren’t many people left inside. It felt different without the noise of the crowd. Byron led me through a narrow walkway behind the stands and we eventually came out of a small door at field level. Then we were making our way down the dark tunnel.

  There were reporters and cameramen milling around, waiting for the players. Byron pushed past all of them and we came into a brightly lit room full of people. There were people taking pictures and lots of laughter. The atmosphere was energetic; the players clearly still high on their win.

  I stood off to the side, not sure what I was supposed to do. I felt completely out of place. Byron waved towards someone. “You can mill around, meet the players.” A man with frizzy red hair and an even redder nose appeared by our side. “This is Fred Coburn, the assistant coach for the Athletics. Fred, this— sorry I forgot your name.”

  I held out my hand for Fred to shake. “I’m Morgan. Nice to meet you.”

  “Nice to meet you as well. You had a nice boot on you,” he commented.

  “Uh, thanks. Look, if you guys are busy, I really don’t need to meet anyone—”

  Fred grabbed a tall man with shapes shaved into the side of his head and beautifully dark skin. “This is Adam Koffi, our first team right midfielder. Adam, this is Morgan. She won that halftime contest. Say hello.”

  “’ello,” Adam said with very little interest. He was tapping at his phone, not paying me any attention. Which was fine with me.

  “Do you want a picture with Adam?” Fred asked, looking distracted.

  “No, that’s okay.” I was suddenly knocked from behind and I stumbled forward on my heels.

  “Careful there, love.” Someone steadied me and I got an eyeful of smooth, freshly showered skin. Lucas Bradley stood over me, wearing only a pair of shorts. His chiseled torso on proud display.

  I had an urge to trace the lines of his abs with my finger.

  Or my tongue.

  Jesus, I needed to get a handle on my sex-starved alter ego. She was becoming a trollop.

  “Lucas, this is Morgan, she won that contest at halftime so she gets to meet everyone,” Fred explained.

  “Good job, Morgan,” Lucas smirked. “I didn’t realize you were a closet football player.” He glanced at Fred; “I’ve got it from here. I’ll make sure Morgan gets the tour.”

  Fred narrowed his eyes and looked from me to Lucas. “Lucas, you have an interview in twenty minutes. I don’t think Jack would —”

  “Jack can suck my ball sack. Like I said, I’ll show her around and I’ll be at the fucking interview,” he snapped. He cupped my elbow and turned me away. He looked down at me, his smile becoming brittle.

  “Um, hi,” I muttered, not sure what to say.

  “Hi,” he said back, his blue eyes becoming flinty. Clearly he wasn’t over whatever had pissed him off earlier.

  “You did great out there,” I said, floundering for something to say. Then I lightly punched him on the arm. “Way to go,” I added, since it was obvious I hadn’t acted like enough of a fool.

  Lucas raised an eyebrow. “You came with a man,” he stated coldly, his fingers still wrapped around my arm.

  I stuck my chin out and tried to stand up as straight as possible.

  “Yeah, I did. What of it?” I pulled away from him.

  “That’s not okay,” he whispered, his mouth hovering near my ear. “Fucking hell that shit isn’t on, Morgan. You can’t come to my match to see me and then bring some other bloke. I can’t be responsible for how I’ll react to that kind of thing.”

  “Who said I was here to see you,” I snapped. His attitude annoyed me. And it excited me.

  I prided myself on being a liberal kind of woman. I was empowered and able to take care of myself. I didn’t subscribe to the outdated notion that a man had to take control to be attractive

  But damn if Lucas’ alpha tendencies didn’t get me going.

  And I sort of hated myself for it. In between imagining him naked.

  His thumb traced lazy circles on the sensitive flesh of my arm. “You didn’t dress like this for him did you?” His eyes ran the length of my body and I felt as if he had touched me everywhere.

  The man was walking, talking sex without even trying. It was no wonder women threw themselves at him.

  “Maybe I did,” I challenged. Lucas’ eyes flashed. They smoldered. He pulled me close. We were pressed against each other and I cast a quick look around, hoping no one was paying us any attention.

  “Back off, Lucas,” I warned.

  “You can’t come to my match and bring another man. Where is he?”

  I swallowed thickly, getting turned on in spite of myself. “He’s still up in the members’ room. He wasn’t allowed to come down here with me.” I sounded all breathy. Ugh.

  Lucas gave me a wolfish smile. Like he was getting ready to blow my door down. “Get rid of him. Ditch the nob. Don’t make me do it for you.”

  We were close. So close. I could feel his heart beat pounding in his chest beneath my hand. His lips were inches from mine. I thought about grabbing him by the back of the neck, holding him completely still, and ravaging that mouth. Making it mine.

  I was having a hard time staying upright. The effort to maintain my control was wearing me down.

  God, I wanted him. I was attracted to him on a level I had never experienced before.

  I glanced ov
er his shoulder and noticed a woman standing just outside the door of the dressing room. She was noticeable mostly because of her bright red hair and the incredibly revealing outfit she was wearing. And I had thought my skirt and heels were ridiculous. Her tight fitting dress barely covered her ass. And her boobs were practically spilling out of the top. There was no way they were real. If they were I’d eat my purse.

  She was speaking to several people but her eyes were on us.

  And she looked angry.

  More than angry, she looked ready to murder someone.

  Most specifically me.

  Was this one of Lucas’ many women? She sure had a proprietary gleam in her eye as she watched us closely. Too closely for my liking.

  Feeling on display, I wriggled free of his grasp. “What the hell are you talking about? I came here with him and I’m leaving with him. You have nothing to do with anything. And you sure can’t tell me who to hang out with.” I looked back to where the woman had been standing but she was now gone.

  “Lucas, who’s this?” A tall, gangly man approached us, a wide goofy smile on his face. I recognized him from the game. He had been on the pitch for the full ninety minutes. Lucas dropped my arm but stayed pressed against my side. I could feel his hot skin against my arm.

  “Craig, this is Morgan, she won a contest at halftime. She gets to meet the team. Morgan, this Craig Denham.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Craig said before continuing to talk to Lucas. “Jack gave us ten. We need to be up in the pressroom. So get dressed and hurry up.”

  “Sure, I’ll be there in a minute.”

  “I guess you need to go then.” I started to move away, seeing this as my chance to escape, but Lucas pulled me back towards him.

  “I have an interview. It’ll only last around fifteen minutes.” His eyes were intense. Almost too intense. He had a way of looking at me as if I were the only person in the room. It was easy to get sucked in by his gaze.

  “That’s super interesting and all that—” I started to say but Lucas cut me off, not letting me finish. Again. It was obviously a habit of his.

  “Wait for me,” he insisted. “There’s a door around the back of the stadium that leads to an underground car park. I can meet you there. We’ll go somewhere—”

  “Let me guess, go back to your place?” I scoffed.

  Lucas frowned. “If that’s what you want to do, sure.”

  The idea was appealing. More than appealing if I was being honest with myself. Because I was still thinking of him naked. And touching him. And him being all alpha in the best way possible.

  But I had come with Phil.

  Even if my reasons were more than a little wrong, I couldn’t be the kind of woman to show up with one man and leave with another. My mother had raised me better than that.

  She had definitely raised me not to be the kind of person to throw herself at a hot football player with a sexy smile and muscles you could bounce pennies off of.

  I wasn’t a slut. Or a slag. Or a strumpet—that was a word right?

  “I’m not sure what you think is happening between us. But I won’t go to your place. I came here with Phil—”

  “He looked like a fucking Phil,” Lucas muttered.

  “I appreciate the tickets. It was a fun day. And this is great getting to see the locker room and the team, but I think we’re done here.” I took a step backwards, putting much needed distance between us.

  Lucas’ face softened. “I’m not expecting anything Morgan. I just want to see you again.”

  “Why? Aren’t one night stands your thing?” I countered, hating myself for even contemplating meeting him. Because I was. I lusted after him something fierce. It was unnerving.

  “Don’t think you know anything about me from reading a few tabloids,” he spat out, clearly exasperated. “I’m only saying I want to see you again. I’m not asking to run off and get married, and I’m sure as hell not looking to make this anything more than two people who want to get to know each other’s bodies a little better.” He gave me a sexy smirk and I rolled my eyes.

  “Does that sort of thing actually work with women? You want to get to know my body? Oh please, where do I sign up?” I snarked.

  He wasn’t touching me but I felt as though he were. His energy was intense. His eyes unwavering. My mouth went dry and my knees started to tremble. “You don’t have to play hard to get, Morgan. I fancy you. Well, I fancy what I remember of you. Either you meet me when I’m done or you don’t. But I hope you do.” He closed the space between us again, still not touching me, but I could smell the soap from his shower, I could feel the heat immentating from his body. “No strings. I promise,” he murmured.

  “Bradley, put your dick away, we’ve got to go!” someone shouted and I felt the now familiar tinge of embarrassment.

  Lucas chuckled and ran a hand over his head, still looking at me. “I’ve got to go, love. Get rid of Phil the nob.”

  “I don’t know—”

  “Thirty minutes,” he said and then was gone.

  With my heart hammering in my chest I hurried from the dressing room. No one paid me any attention as I all but ran back to the members’ box.

  Was I actually going to meet him?

  Could I let myself enjoy what he was offering?

  No strings. Just two people getting to know each other’s bodies.

  Jeesh, that sounded ridiculous in my head.

  But it was tempting.

  Oh so tempting.

  Because I wanted to be a different kind of Morgan Carter.

  An adventurous Morgan. An impulsive Morgan.

  But a Morgan with STDs?

  Phil was watching the TV on the wall and eating a bag of potato chips when I arrived. He quickly got to his feet. “That was fast. Are you okay? You look flushed.”

  I put my hands on my flaming cheeks. “I’m fine. It was just really hot in there.”

  “What was it like? Did you get Claudio’s autograph?” he asked, crumpling up his chip bag and throwing it away.

  “Oh, no I didn’t see him. Sorry.”

  Lucas wanted me to meet him in thirty minutes.

  Do I dare?

  “That’s okay.” Phil seemed disappointed. “Who did you meet?”

  I was flustered. I could barely think straight. The ticking of the clock on the wall reminding me of the decision I needed to make.

  “Who did I what?” I asked.

  “You don’t look well. Are you sick?” Phil asked with concern.

  Was I sick?

  Yeah, I was sick. Sick of Lucas Bradley and his too tempting smile and pretty eyes. And cut abs. And strong arms. And big—.

  “You know, I think I might be. Can we go?”

  Screw Lucas.

  Well no, not literally.

  Maybe literally.

  Never mind.

  But I wouldn’t meet him. I’d forget all about him and our momentary episode of drunken insanity.

  Hooking up with a man like that was only bad news. I had already seen what interacting with him could do. I had ended up labeled a skank in the gossip rags. There was no way I would sign up for any more of that.

  But…

  No buts!

  I wouldn’t meet him. He’d get over it and move onto the next available vagina.

  My mind was made up.

  “Do you mind taking me straight home? I think it was too much sun.”

  Phil rubbed my back. “Of course, let’s go.”

  Lucas

  She had actually brought another bloke. To my match. What the hell was that about?

  I gave her tickets to my sold out game and she brings a dude. A dude that was clearly a total muppet and obviously into her.

  I saw the way he touched her. Even when I needed to have my head in the game I saw her. I saw him.

  Fucking hell.

  “Hey Danny, come here for a sec,” I called out during warm up. I was making a point not to look up at the stands. At Morgan. But I could feel
her eyes on me the whole damn time. It was distracting.

  I couldn’t be distracted.

  Not today of all days.

  But she had to bring a douchebag. What was she playing?

  Danny Kyle, the grounds keeper at Foley Field hurried over. “Do you think you could find the guy who wears the Freddie costume for me?”

  Danny looked confused. “You want me to find Basil? He’s the mascot.”

  “Yeah, Basil. I need to talk to him.”

  “Sure. Okay. Just give me a minute.” Danny didn’t question why I would want to talk to the guy who pranced around like a ninny in a bird costume during the games. Which was good, because otherwise I’d tell him to mind his own fucking business.

  Basil in the Freddie the falcon costume all but ran over to me. I kicked him the ball and he kicked it back. I could hear the cheers all around me. The fans loved that shit.

  I continued to dribble the ball but motioned for Basil to come closer.

  “Hey, what’s the halftime contest?” I asked.

  “What?” I could hear the muffled voice ask.

  “The halftime contest. You always do something with the fans. What is it today?”

  “They want me to have some people kick a ball into the goal. The winner gets to meet the team after the game. It’s already been approved. Is that okay?” It was hard to hear the guy through the costume and over the continuous chanting of the crowd.

  “Yeah, yeah, that’s great. But I want you to pick someone for me. And I want her to win. Do you hear what I’m saying?” I glanced at Morgan again. It was like I couldn’t bloody help it.

  She came to the match. I hadn’t been sure she would.

  And then she brought another guy.

  That wasn’t cool with me.

  “Okay, who do you want to win?” Again, no questions. People knew better. I wanted it done, it was done. End of.

  I subtly pointed towards Morgan’s stand. She wasn’t looking my way at the moment. She was talking to the muppet again. “That woman in the front row. Long, dark hair. She’s wearing the blue top.”

  “The one with the scarf?” Basil asked and I nodded, turning my back to her.

  “Make sure she wins.”

  “But it’s this kid’s birthday—”