Dirty Baller: A Secret Baby Sports Romance (7 page)

Hayley nods and scribbles on the paper, her tongue poking out of her perfect mouth. “Do you think the odds are good for you winning the summer tournaments?”

“Of course they are. I’m Ryan fucking Mackenzie. I didn’t come down here to play around. I came down here to win.”

Hayley nods again but doesn’t take any notes. She’s staring at me.

“What?” I ask her. “Do I have something on my face?”

She shakes her head. “No. It’s just…I’m trying to figure out how I’m here with you right now. I’m plain. I’m not skinny. I’m not particularly interesting. You could have any woman in here right now.” She nods toward a table filled with hot young twenty-something women who keep giving me the eye. “They know who you are. You could be in bed with all three of them tonight, I guarantee it.”

I lean closer to her. “Maybe I’m with you because I know you’ll be gone in a few weeks.”

Hayley doesn’t look hurt. “That makes sense.” She reaches for her glass of water.

I take her hand before she can lift the glass. “Or maybe I’m with you because I think you’re the sexiest fucking American girl I’ve ever come across.”

We’re interrupted by the arrival of our server.

The blush doesn’t leave Hayley’s cheeks for the rest of the meal.

“Alright, that burger was worth the money. I didn’t think I would say that, but it’s true,” Hayley says as we step outside of the restaurant an hour later.

I laugh. “I told you so.”

“You did.”

Just as I’m about to put my arm around her, a flashbulb goes off.

“Oi!” I yell, throwing up my hand. “Who the bloody hell are you?” My accent is in full flow. It always pops back up when I’m angry.

Hayley yelps as the bulb keeps flashing.

“Ryan! Hey! Over here!” Another camera goes off and soon the passersby on the street are stopping with their camera phones.

“Headed out to drink drive again with your new slut?”

I walk over to the photographer and grab his heavy camera, tossing it on the ground. It shatters into a dozen pieces. I grab him by the collar and shove him against the window of the restaurant. “Say that again and I kill you.”

The photographer grins at me.

“Ryan! Everyone has cameras!” Hayley cries out. She pulls my arm and I let the guy go.

I shake my head to wake myself up from my outburst. “Right, let’s go.” I put my arm around Hayley and push through the crowd of people all filming on their phones.

I hail a cab and we ride back to the hotel.

“Oh, God,” Hayley says, leaning her forehead against the window glass. “I’m going to lose my job.”

“No, you aren’t,” I say unconvincingly. “I might lose mine, though.”

Hayley looks at me, her expression pained. “You shouldn’t have done that on my behalf. I’m not worth you being kicked off the team.”

I put my hand on her knee. “Of course you are.”

The intimate words hang between us. I grab the back of her head and pull her towards me. Her back arches and she presses her tits into my chest. I kiss her passionately until the taxi stops.

I throw money at the driver and we tumble out of the cab together. I can’t stop touching her. Her neck. Her back.

We kiss in the elevator and I start unbuttoning her pants as we fall down the hallway together, tripping over each other’s feet.

I shove my keycard in the door and I lift Hayley off her feet, throwing her onto my mattress.

“You let the maids in today,” she says while I work my way down her stomach.

“Stop talking,” I reply. “I’m busy down here.”

She gasps as I rip off her panties and lift her legs up into the air. I taste her juices and she’s sweet, just like the other night. She bucks against my mouth and has to put a pillow over her face so she doesn’t bother the neighbors.

I don’t care if I get too close to her now. I just want her.

All of her. Every fucking inch.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

HAYLEY

I’m pacing my hotel room.

Alison has already called six times to let me know I’m all over the Internet with photos of me with Ryan. She said even Dad saw the news. And he doesn’t read anything to do with celebrities. He calls it trash, not journalism.

This is not why I went into this business. This is not what I expected when I took this assignment.

Now I’m going to lose it all because of Ryan.

The sex almost makes it worth it.

I’m just waiting for the call. The call that will tell me my career is over, that I’m fired, that I’ll never work again in journalism.

My phone rings and I dive to grab it off the mattress.

I hold my breath when I see who it is.

It’s Sandra.

Sandra is calling me to fire me. She’s seen the photos.

It’s all over.

Everything I’ve worked so hard for.

I’m losing my job because I’m fucking a football star.

“Hello,” I say tentatively.

“Childs, I saw the photos,” Sandra says, getting right to the point.

“Right,” I reply. “I’m so sorry. We were just at dinner together and I was interviewing him and-“

“And he puts his arm around you because you’re interviewing him? That’s all you’re doing? Tell me the truth.”

I pause. “Alright. It’s a little more than that between us. We…we were sort of on a date.”

Sandra is quiet. I hear her take a sip from her coffee mug and I just wait for the deluge to begin. “You’re fucking one of your subjects for this article?”

I choke on the word. “Yes.”

“You’re fucking the most scandalous footballer in all of England. Is that right?”

“Yes and I realize that I’ve lost my journalistic integrity, and I’m prepared to accept the consequences of that.”

Sandra takes a deep breath and I cringe. “You think I care about journalistic integrity?” Sandra sighs. “If I cared about journalistic integrity, I’d be living in a run-down Florida retirement home while my investment broker runs a Ponzi scheme with my meager lifetime earnings. That’s where my colleagues who grew up in the era of journalistic integrity are right now. No. Fuck journalistic integrity. This is the age of flash and glamour and scandal. This is why I’m still alive in this industry. I follow the smut. The dirt. The sex. I want juicy. I want a meaty story that is so filthy it goes viral. I don’t care if you have to take him to an S & M club, Childs. Get the story.”

I’m stunned. “Sorry, so you don’t care that people will think that we’re dating? You don’t care that my name will be on the byline?”

“Get in there, Childs, and really get your fingers on the pulse of all of this. Go for blood. He’s the dirtiest player in the entire league. You need to figure him out. Write about it. I don’t want this boring shit about how the game is played. Our readers already know.”

“Sorry, you want me to write about Ryan instead of the team?”

“Our readers want gossip. If you don’t get this done, I’m sending Brenda over to do it for you. Do whatever it takes. Get it done.”

She slams the phone down so hard the click of the receiver echoes around my own hotel room.

“Well,” I say to my empty room. “At least I wasn’t fired.”

Not yet anyway
, says a voice in my head.

I shove down my guilt. This is what I’ve been working towards my entire career. A feature piece.

I just never thought that I’d have to betray someone I care about to do it.

CHAPTER TWELVE

RYAN

“Already causing trouble, hm?” Ivan says as I walk into the clubhouse before our Sunday match.

“I’m sorry,” I say earnestly. “He provoked me.”

“A lot of people seem to provoke you, Mackenzie. I think you should get that reflex examined.”

I tap my foot on the thick, green carpeting. “Are you kicking me off the team?”

Ivan laughs. “No. If you’d driven drunk again, yes. But threatening a member of the press? I should give you a medal. Those guys are vultures.”

“So you’re not firing me?”

Ivan shakes his head and stands up, clapping a solid hand on my shoulder. “Take that aggression out onto the pitch and we’ll be just fine today.”

“Thank you,” I say, still stunned.

“Don’t thank me.
Win
.”

And we do.

We win the match like it’s nothing. Four points to null.

My eyes immediately go into the stands to look for Hayley. I hop over the barrier to her seat in the second row.

“Did you see that score?” I ask her, flipping my hair off my face.

She nods and purses her lips. “Yes.”

I put my hand on her knee. “What’s up with you?”

“Work stress,” she says simply. “It’s sort of getting to me a bit. It’s a lot of pressure to write this piece.”

The stands are clearing and people are stopping to congratulate me. I sign a few bits of paper as they’re shoved in my face, still not taking my eyes off of Hayley. She looks different. Far away. Somewhere else entirely.

I clear the row of empty seats and sit down next to her.

“You need a break,” I say.

She glances at me. “I really have a lot to work on, actually-“

I put a sweaty arm around her shoulders. I feel her stiffen under my touch. “You need a break.” I stand up. “Let me shower. Meet me outside of the clubhouse, alright? I’m taking you away for the next two days.”

Hayley laughs. “You’re
what
?”

“You heard me. Now finish up your homework.”

I jog toward the showers. I’m so caught up in my new plan I run smack into Terence.

“Watch it, asshole,” he says, shoving me away. “I saw your little girlfriend on the news today.”

“Trolling tabloid sites for the latest in celebrity news?” I spit back, stripping off my uniform and grabbing a clean towel.

Terence slams my locker door in my face. “I don’t like how much you’re distracting the team.”

I get close to him. “I don’t like how obsessed you are with Hayley. She’s not interested in you. Take the hint, Terence.”

I push him into the lockers and he seethes in my direction.

I really fucking hate that guy.

Two hours later, I’m standing outside of Hayley’s hotel room door, knocking.

“Hurry up, we’ll miss the train!”

Hayley pulls open the door. I look behind her to see that her duffel isn’t packed.

“You’re not packed.”

She nods. “That’s right. I told you I need to work.” But she doesn’t look committed to this statement.

I drop my duffel bag and put my hand on the door, holding it open. “You’re saying you’d rather work than come away with me?”

She nods. “That’s right. I was almost fired once. I’d like to not repeat that, actually.”

I tilt my head and smile at her. I see her resolve faltering. I put a finger on her collarbone and she uncrosses her arms. I trace an S-shape across her skin and goosebumps erupt down her arms.

“So you’re just going to stay here?”

“Y-yes…” She closes her eyes as I make my way to the space between her breasts. I step inside her room and the door shuts behind me.

“You’re sure about that?” I lean down and kiss the side of her neck. She’s shaking now.

“No,” she replies. “I’m not sure about that.”

I take her wrists into my hands and pin them above her head onto the wall. I run my tongue down her neck, bisecting her collarbone, and down to the line of cleavage.

I can hear her heartbeat right next to my face.

“Okay!” She practically shouts it. “I’ll come away with you.”

I pull away from her. “Then we can finish things up when we get to where we’re going.”

“Ugh, you’re going to tease me like that and not finish me off?”

I pull open her dresser drawers and pull out two pairs of lacy underwear.

“No sense in packing these,” I say to her with a smile.

She blushes.

I open the second drawer to find a few demure t-shirts and a long skirt. “I think I’m taking you shopping before we do anything else.”

“What’s wrong with my clothes?”

I slam the drawer shut and face her. “They’re made up of too much fabric.”

I walk out of the room and pick up my duffel. I don’t glance over my shoulder as I step into the hallway.

Hayley’s footsteps soon follow me. “Alright!” she says, the door shutting behind her. I hear the zipper of her purse shut. “But nothing too expensive, okay?”

I laugh and pull her into the elevator. “I’m running this shopping trip, not you. I’ll spend as much money as I want to, thank you very much.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

HAYLEY

Ryan takes me to Harrod’s.

We walk in and it’s like a movie is playing in front of me. Racks upon racks of clothes. Escalators. An opera singer in the foyer. I smell the delicious scent of gourmet food wafting my way and I stop walking.

Ryan pulls my arm. “We’ll eat later, I promise.”

I groan. “I hate shopping.”

“You’ve never been shopping with
me
, though. Trust me. You’ll love this.”

We head upstairs to the women’s clothing section. Ryan grins at the shop girl. “We’ll need the largest dressing room you can find, love.”

She winks at him. “No problem, Mr. Mackenzie.”

It’s my turn to grab
his
arm. “They know you here? How many times have you brought a woman to this place?”

He laughs. “Are you asking for your article or for your personal interest?”

My stomach turns over. Does he know I’m supposed to be writing his article about
him
and
him alone
?

“What?” I choke out.

“I’m joking, Hayley. Obviously you want to know how many times I’ve used this particular seduction maneuver on other women. I’d say about half a dozen times.”

I laugh. “It doesn’t bother me.” Okay. It sort of does bother me.

Ryan flows through the racks grabbing lacy tops and short skirts. I stop him and pull the fabric away.

“This will
not
fit me,” I protest.

He yanks it back. “It will. I’m a pro at this, don’t question me.”

He’s dead serious.