Play Maker(9)

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.





5





Nicole





Dammit, 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.