Player's Ultimatum (5 page)

An avowed but man his perusal shifted lower, set ling on her derriere. Paolo let out a low whistle. She had the kind of ass that would fil out the tiny bathing suits Brazilian women made world famous.

The more he looked, the more Paolo wanted to drag her into the nearest bathroom and bend her over the sink. He wondered if her ass cheeks would jiggle as he rammed his cock between her healthy mounds.

Maybe romancing Gutierrez’s fiancé wouldn’t be such a bad idea after al .

Paolo was definitely at racted to her. Of course, she might get hurt in the process but she’d recover. He’d had his heart broken once and he was fine. Wasn’t he?

Suddenly bothered by his conscience and memories of Gia, Paulo stopped a waiter, pilfered a flute of champagne and gulped it down in ten seconds flat. The champagne might as wel have been fruit punch because during the season he couldn’t touch anything stronger. Cursing, he focused his attention on a much stronger aphrodisiac.

Paolo called out to Gutierrez. “Stefano leave him alone. You work him to death in practice. Now you monopolize his time after hours.”

Gutierrez and Stefano swung around to look at him. The general manager’s surprised expression matching the man beside him.

“Should have known. .
Il Duca,
” Stefano sniffed, knowing ful -wel Paulo hated the nickname the press had given him.

Eyeing the flute in his hand, a frown marred his craggy features. Even when he was having a good day, their general manager always looked like someone stuck a pole up his ass. “I hope that’s only champagne or you’l be running extra laps tomorrow.”

“
Promessas
,
promessas
,” Paulo scoffed. Dismissing the older man, he turned his attention to the woman at Gutierrez’s side.

I know her!

Paolo pulled himself up. He couldn’t remember the names of half of the women he slept with, but after a single meeting he’d committed her name to memory. Her name was Yvonne Floyd. And like before, he couldn’t drag his eyes away.

Unlike the reaction he’d garnered from her earlier, this time Yvonne kept her eyes downcast, ignoring him. An alien experience for someone who garnered attention wherever he went, Paulo was stricken by the sudden impulse to reach out and shake her.

Before he acted upon his compulsion, he dragged his gaze back to Robbie. “Glad the game’s hero could final y make it.”

“Just barely,” Robbie’s smile was slow and his shoulders stiffened. Paulo mental y shrugged. He knew there was no love lost between them. He’d set out from the beginning to ostracize the American. Better to assuage his guilt.

Done with smal talk, Paolo aimed his attention at his goal. “So, who’s your beautiful friend, Gutierrez?” While Robbie’s smile didn’t slip, his eyes narrowed as he wrapped his arm around his companion’s waist. Paolo clenched the stem of his champagne glass before he acted on impulse like ripping the other man’s hand away. “This beautiful woman is Yvonne Floyd, my fiancée.”

The declaration was simply a confirmation of what he already knew. Stil , Paolo fel into a tailspin like the wind had been knocked from his sails. He tried performing a mental check. It didn’t help. He was seized by a bout of jealousy so irrational and overwhelming, he could barely see straight.

What was wrong with him? Paolo remembered walking in on a girlfriend once, having sex with another man and he didn’t even blink an eye. Robbie pulled his fiancé into his side and he wanted to tear the other man’s head off and use it as a practice ball.

“It seems…” Paulo paused to clear his throat. The thought of being jealous of his worst enemy sat at the back of his throat like sawdust. “It seems like a celebration is in order.” As if in a dream, he raised his hand and waved down a passing waiter.

“Bring over several bot les of your best champagne. We have an engagement to celebrate.” Paulo played his role to the hilt. He corralled most of the team together, while The Atrium’s wait staff found clean glasses and several bot les of champagne. When everyone’s glass was filled, he turned to Gutierrez and his future bride. “To the happy couple, we wish you al the best,
salud
.”

Everyone chorused his salutation and raised their glasses to their lips, Paolo kept his eyes on her. Paolo couldn’t toast her happiness with another man, especially when he was his enemy. And he wanted her so badly for himself.

*****

With the echo of clinking glasses and laughter filtering around her, Yvonne watched Paulo Saito as he continued to hold court.

After sharing a toast with the team, he’d ushered them over to a private table within the club’s VIP section. Turns out, the table wasn’t all that private, but already occupied by one of their teammates and four groupies.

Yvonne pretended to take an undue interest in her drink. Better than vomiting in the ice bucket from nervousness and the disgusting display taking place on the other sofa. Like a text-book Lothario, Paulo caught and held every woman’s attention or they fought for his by thrusting out their fake breasts, asking incessant questions and laughing at everything he said. They reminded Yvonne of hens in a chicken house preening for the rooster’s attention.

Fed up with the show and thoroughly disgusted by her response, Yvonne put her champagne glass down. Taking a cue from the hen’s book, she flicked her hair over her shoulders and smoothed imaginary wrinkles from her dress.

“Let’s hit the dance floor.” she said, placing her hand on Robbie’s shoulder. Determined to forget Paolo and his groupies’ silly antics, she stalked off toward the dance floor below. Yvonne didn’t wait to see if Robbie fol owed, instead she descended the stairs determined to put some distance between her and Paolo Saito. Half-way down the staircase, Robbie took her hand.

Not missing a beat, Yvonne weaved them through the crowd. Finding an open space, she released Robbie’s hand and without turning around, she lifted her arms above her head. She listened to the music for a moment, caught the rhythm and started to sway her hips. Before too long, Robbie gripped her from behind and pulled her up against his lean frame. She and Robbie danced al the time, but he’d never been this aggressive. Maybe he was just put ing on a show for the gossip rags? Fal ing into her role, Yvonne threaded her fingers through her hair and rotated her hips in time to the music.

Without warning, she dipped down low. As she shimmied back up, she made sure her backside rubbed against him.

Startled, Yvonne gasped. Whoa, Robbie’s body was banging!

She barely rose to her feet when Robbie’s hands slid up over her hips to rest on her waist, his thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts. Yvonne shuddered.

Her girls were her most erogenous zone.

Robbie pressed his body closer to hers and kissed the side of her neck. His cologne tickled her senses and she melted into him. A smile played on Yvonne’s lips as several heads turned to watch them. Good, she mused. By the end of the night, no one would doubt Robbie was straight.

The crowd wasn’t the only ones responding to their antics. Robbie’s erection pressed insistently into her lower back and his hands snaked around her torso. If she didn’t know any better, he was trying to bark up the wrong tree!

“May I take a picture?”

Yvonne glanced around at the smiling face of the same photographer she’d met in the stadium tunnel. His grin revealed a set of buck teeth, reminding her of a rat.

“Sure go ahead.” Yvonne turned around and wrapped her arms around Robbie’s neck. When did Robbie grow his hair out?

Yvonne lifted her gaze, coming face to face with Paulo Saito. While she stood there shell-shocked, barely able to breath, the photographer clicked off several photos.

Anxious to rectify the situation, and not caring if she made a spectacle of herself, Yvonne shoved away from him. But it was too late, the photographer was long gone.

“You’re not leaving now are you? We were having so much fun.” Paolo asked, a smal smile playing over his ful lips. Yvonne glanced away from him nervously. It should be illegal for a man to be so damn sexy.

“You were the only one having a good time,” she snorted pointing down at the bulge tenting the front of his tailored trousers.

Paolo tried pul ing her back into his arms, but she stabbed her finger in the middle of his chest. The man had to work out five hours a day. His chest felt hard as a rock!

“
Verdadeiro
,” he admitted. “But I don’t think I’m the only one affected by our dance.” Before she could step back, he raked a finger across a hardened nipple, causing it to peak the fabric of her dress.

Yvonne smacked his hand again. “I thought you were Robbie.”

Paolo’s eyes dropped to her décolletage and he licked his lips. “How I wish I were your
noivo
, Yvonne
.
I so want to take you home, put you in my bed, crawl inside of you and never leave.”

Yvonne’s pulse quickened. His forwardness rattled her, but her response to him disturbed her even more. If she’d worn panties they would be soaked. She needed to regroup! And that meant distance. “I better get back to
my
fiancé and
your
teammate. This. Didn’t. Happen!”

She attempted to move past him, but he stopped her with a hand on her upper arm. Oblivious to the sweating bodies cavorting around them, he leaned into her, his hard body meshing into hers. Yvonne closed her eyes and willed her heart to stop racing.

“You can run, Yvonne Floyd,” he whispered near her ear. “But you can’t hide.” When he final y released her, Yvonne struggled to stay on her feet. His threat like being near him rocked her to her very core.

And considering her physical reaction to him, she could definitely hide, but would she?

* * * * *

“Honey I’m home!”

Robbie hadn’t bothered to knock.
What was new!
He barged into her room so often she didn’t bother with locking the door.

“What’s al of this?” He asked pointing at the travel books scattered across her bed. “I already gave you a tour of Rome.”

“A shopping spree is not a tour.”

Grinning, Robbie fell on top of the bed and all of Yvonne’s travel books. “What else is there to see beyond Valentino, Versace and Dolce & Gabanna?”

“You’re crushing my books!”

Robbie rolled over with a groan, releasing most of them. Yvonne salvaged the last book from under his hip.

“Guess what?”

“What,” Yvonne repeated as she smoothed the guide book against her chest.

“We’re having company. Some of the players usual y get together to watch our matches. And some of the mates nominated me as tonight’s host.”

Yvonne sat up. “So now you’re Mr. Popular?”

Robbie shrugged. “Could be that or your famous smothered pork chops and fried apples.”

“You bribed them with my cooking?” Yvonne reached behind her and grabbed another pil ow. Too late, by the time she launched the cushion Robbie had disappeared in the hallway.

That wasn’t the last of him. He poked his head around the door. “Everything you need is in the kitchen. The grocers made a delivery about thirty minutes ago. The one-man staff is just waiting on the head chef to arrive to start prep on dinner. Oh and by the way, your dance partner is coming over as wel . See you downstairs in five.” Laughing, Robbie spun from yet another pil ow she threw at him.

Shrieking at the top of her lungs, Yvonne rolled from the bed. Robbie wasn’t going to let dead dogs lie. Ever since she’d come clean about her dirty dance with Paolo over a week ago, he’d teased her at every opportunity.

“I should have kept my mouth shut,” she muttered, shoving her feet into a pair of house shoes. Instead she’d come clean as soon as they were in the limo. She wanted Robbie to know about the pictures before he found out from someone else or the press.

Why keep it a secret when the whole incident was innocent?
It was innocent wasn’t it?
Then why did she feel so guilty whenever she thought about Paolo and their dance?

Yvonne took her time coming down stairs, but once in the kitchen she got down to business.

With Robbie’s help, she prepared dinner for a quarter of the soccer squad. Instead of preparing the dining room for company, she decided on a buffet-style set-up.

She would place all the food on the kitchen counters, and then the guys could file past and fix their own plates to their hearts content.

With everything in order and smeared up to her elbows with al -purpose flour, Yvonne went up to her room to shower and change. Forty-five minutes later, she made her way back downstairs. Before she reached the kitchen, she could hear the low hum of masculine voices.

Casual y at ired in a pair of fitted jeans, a pink cardigan sweater and only a swipe of lip gloss, Yvonne felt more confident than when dolled up in couture like at last week’s gala. Unfortunately, al of her confidence didn’t quiet the butterflies in her stomach caused by one particular footballer.

Yvonne’s steps slowed. She should hate Paolo Saito and his arrogant at itude, not anticipate seeing him again. But there was just something about him that made her al weak-kneed and mushy inside. Wel whatever it was, she needed to nip her weakness to the Brazilian in the bud because nothing could come of her inappropriate at raction to him.

With her eyes back on the goal, she turned the corner entering the kitchen with her head held high and a gamine smile on her lips.

“Hel o boys,” she greeted as her eyes drifted around the room and immediately noting the absence of the man of the hour.

Maybe he wasn’t coming. The possibility should have relieved her especial y when she just spent the past half hour steeling her hormones against him. But for some sil y reason a strange hol owness filled her and his absence affected her more than she cared to admit. Shaken, Yvonne tucked her disappointment away to examine later when she was alone.

Right now she needed to play her role as the happy fiancée. Smiling warmly, Yvonne sauntered over to Robbie and wrapped her arms around his lean waist. As if on cue, he pecked her on the forehead fol owed by quick introductions. The quicker the better, Yvonne silently panted. Al of his teammates were hotter than the hot sauce she planned to serve with dinner. Of course, none of them held a flame to Paolo Saito.