Читать книгу: «Striker», страница 3

Chapter Three

The bar was unusually crowded for a Wednesday night, but for Ryan that just meant more choice. He’d had a more than pleasant afternoon sampling the delights of the lovely Ellen; so pleasant, in fact, that he’d been almost sorry to leave the sanctuary of his bedroom behind. She certainly knew how to keep his attention, but Ryan didn’t care too much for playing with the same friend for too long. He liked variety, and plenty of it.

‘Hey, you okay, mate?’ Gary Blandford, the club’s Sunderland-born star defender asked, sliding onto the stool next to Ryan. Gary had a bit of a reputation himself, never one to shirk the lifestyle or benefits that came with his job, despite being engaged to a very pretty local model called Debbie who, with her glamorous image and local-celebrity lifestyle, had earned herself the nickname of Queen of the Red Star WAGs. They had a lot in common, did Gary and Ryan. Which is why they’d become friendly with each other very quickly.

Ryan looked at Gary as he handed him another pint. ‘Have you had many dealings with Amber Sullivan?’

Gary grinned, taking a mouthful of ice-cold lager. ‘Yeah. ‘Course I have. I mean, I’ve come across her a few times. She’s interviewed a lot of us local players over the years. She certainly makes a welcome change from all those run-of-the-mill blokes-in-suits I used to get at me old clubs. Why do you ask?’

Ryan shrugged. ‘No reason.’

‘You do know she’s Freddie Sullivan’s daughter, don’t you?’

‘Yeah, I know. I’m assuming she takes after her mother in the looks department.’

Gary laughed. ‘Yeah. She’s pretty easy on the eye, isn’t she?’

‘I’ve certainly never been interviewed by anyone with legs like hers before, that’s for sure.’ Ryan smirked, also downing a mouthful of lager.

‘She’s got a reputation for being a bit of a cold bitch, though,’ Gary went on, grinning at a couple of girls in short skirts and extremely high heels as they sauntered past. ‘Won’t touch footballers with a bargepole, apparently. Although, she did have a fling with Ronnie White. Just before he met his ex-wife.’

Ryan looked at his teammate. ‘Really? They used to be a couple?’

Gary nodded. ‘It was never something the whole world knew about. You know Ronnie, he’s a pretty private person. It didn’t last all that long, apparently. But they’ve stayed friends ever since.’

Ryan took another drink. ‘Do you think there’s anything going on between them now? I mean, Ronnie – he’s recently divorced, isn’t he? Was that because of her, do you think? Because of Amber?’

‘Nah, mate. His wife left him for Frankie Greenham, Kennway Town’s goalie. Had nothing to do with the lovely Amber Sullivan. Like I said before, Ronnie White was the one and only exception to her “no footballers” rule. I should know. I’ve tried.’

‘What? You’ve asked her out?’ There was more than a hint of surprise in Ryan’s voice.

‘Half the squad’s asked her out, mate. She’s said no to all of us. Doesn’t want to know.’

Ryan said nothing, just took another slow swig of lager.

‘Anyway, do you want another one? We’re gonna hang round here for a bit longer before we hit the club.’

‘Nah, I’m alright for the minute,’ Ryan smiled.

‘Fancy a game of pool?’ Gary asked, sliding off the stool and grabbing his pint.

‘I’ll be over in a bit. Just got to nip to the loo.’

‘Okay. Well, we’re just over there. See you later.’

Ryan watched Gary walk over to the rest of the lads before turning round on his stool and taking a look around the crowded bar. Sometimes, being a professional footballer at the highest level was akin to being like the proverbial kid in a candy shop. All around him was temptation, and all he had to do was give the nod and whatever he wanted would just appear. Would he ever get bored of that feeling? Would the day ever come when he just didn’t want to do this anymore? When all he wanted to do was settle down and get on with his life? Maybe. But it wasn’t happening any time soon, that was for sure.

Turning back to face the bar, he held up his empty glass and indicated to the barman that he was ready for another. One more then he’d join the rest of the lads. This night was only just beginning, and he had a gut feeling it was going to be a good one.

‘You do know that practically every male head in this bar has turned to look in your direction at least once, don’t you?’ Ronnie smiled, returning to the table with a bottle of champagne and two glasses. ‘Because you have scrubbed up pretty nicely, Ms. Sullivan.’

‘Champagne?’ Amber asked, ignoring Ronnie’s comment. ‘Are we celebrating something?’

‘Yeah. You finally leaving the house for a few hours and actually enjoying yourself.’

‘Cheeky bastard.’ But she couldn’t help smiling. ‘And you don’t scrub up too badly yourself, Mr. White.’

Ronnie White may not have been as obviously handsome as the Ryan Fishers of this world, but he had a quirky quality about him that made him just as attractive, in a different kind of way. Probably more so, because Ronnie wasn’t just some pretty shell that drew women’s attention towards him purely because of his looks. He was also one of football’s nice guys. He always had been; that was just the kind of person he was, and it still seemed unbelievable to Amber that Karen hadn’t been able to see what a gem of a man she’d had in him. As far as she’d been concerned, the grass was greener elsewhere, but in Amber’s eyes she thought Karen had made a huge mistake. Ronnie was a wonderful man, but if Karen hadn’t been able to see that then she really didn’t deserve him. Amber just hoped that, next time, he’d find someone who really loved him and appreciated him. Because he deserved that.

‘You alright?’ Ronnie asked, breaking into Amber’s thoughts.

‘Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. I was just thinking, that’s all.’

‘Well, quit thinking and start enjoying yourself. Here. Get this down your neck.’ He leaned forward, handing her a glass of champagne.

‘You’re such a charmer, Ronnie,’ Amber smiled, taking a sip of the cold, bubbly liquid. ‘And isn’t this a bit excessive? Champagne, on a Wednesday night?’

‘I’m an ex-professional footballer, Amber. There’s no such thing as excessive.’

Amber smiled again, because he’d said that with his tongue very firmly in his cheek. Ronnie had never really lived the extravagant footballer’s lifestyle, which was partly the reason why she liked him so much. But was that also partly the reason why Karen had left him? Had she wanted that lifestyle more than she’d wanted Ronnie? It was something that had crossed Amber’s mind on more than one occasion since Ronnie’s marriage break-up. But it was something she still couldn’t get her head around. Ronnie was genuine. He never did things because he felt he had to, or because he just could. Karen really had no idea what she’d thrown away.

‘Do you fancy going clubbing?’ Ronnie asked, taking a sip of his own champagne, his eyes fixed on Amber as she shuffled about in her seat, the short black dress she was wearing riding up her legs slightly to reveal probably a little more tanned thigh than she’d intended.

‘Clubbing? Are you joking? The last time I went clubbing flares were still in fashion. And you’re hardly John Travolta yourself.’

‘You’re supposed to be having fun.’

‘I am having fun, thank you. This is me, having fun.’

Ronnie leaned forward again, clasping his hands together between his open knees, fixing Amber with a look that defied her to turn away. ‘Do you ever relax? I mean, I’ve known you for almost ten years now and in all that time I’ve only seen you really let yourself go once, maybe twice – my wedding, and that Christmas party we went to when we were a couple, when I was playing for United. The club Christmas party, remember?’

‘How could I forget? You should never have let me have that Long Island Iced Tea. It was lethal.’

Ronnie smiled, and Amber loved the way his eyes crinkled up at the edges. ‘You had such a good night, Amber. You were the life and soul of that party, so I know you can let your hair down, when you want to.’

‘When I’m drunk, you mean,’ Amber half-smiled as she took another small sip of champagne.

‘Well, maybe you should get drunk more often,’ Ronnie sighed, sitting back in his seat. ‘Everything doesn’t have to be so serious all the time, y’know.’

Amber put her glass down and crossed her legs, quickly pulling the hem of her dress down over her thigh. ‘I just want to be taken seriously, Ronnie. I want to be a success, I want to be good at what I do…’

‘You are good at what you do. But sometimes you need to shake off this cold exterior you give off.’

Amber looked at him. ‘Is it really that bad? Do I really come across as cold?’

‘Not all the time, no. But you always come across as incredibly professional.’

‘And what’s wrong with that?’

Ronnie leaned forward again, smiling as he looked at her. ‘Nothing. There’s nothing wrong with that. But I know you, Amber. And I know you’re anything but cold. I just think you put up too many barriers. It’s almost like you’re afraid to let anyone in.’

Amber said nothing, just took another sip of champagne.

‘Don’t you get lonely?’ Ronnie asked. She was such a beautiful woman, he found it difficult to understand how she was still alone after all this time. Since their brief relationship all those years ago he didn’t think she’d been seriously involved with anyone. She’d certainly never spoken to him about any relationships she’d been in or any men she’d met. Yet, she spent her life around men. So surely she couldn’t have been alone for all that time?

‘I haven’t got time to be lonely, Ronnie. I’m a busy girl.’

He sat back again, pushing both hands through his hair, his brown eyes still looking straight at her. ‘Hmm… well, you know what they say – all work and no play makes Amber one very boring young lady.’

She stuck her tongue out at him before taking another sip of champagne. She could get a taste for this, she thought, as the cool bubbles slid effortlessly down her throat. She could feel it going to her head already, but it was a nice feeling. Maybe Ronnie was right. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to enjoy herself for once.

‘Refill?’ Ronnie asked, knowing for sure he’d hit a nerve now. She listened to him, so he hoped that she’d taken what he’d said the right way. He didn’t want to criticise her, he just wanted her to know that he cared about her, and all he wanted was for her to be happy. To make the most of her life. To have some fun.

‘Yeah. Why not?’ Amber smiled, holding out her empty glass for him to fill up. ‘I might as well start the night as I mean to go on.’

‘Is that a promise?’ Ronnie grinned, filling up his own empty glass.

‘Yeah. It’s a promise,’ she laughed. She just hoped it wouldn’t be one she’d end up regretting in the morning.

Ryan pushed his way through the crowd, for once glad that it was so busy hardly anyone recognised him. If he saw someone he wanted to get to know better he’d make himself known. Why attract all and sundry when he didn’t really have the energy to fight off the ones he couldn’t be bothered with? Ryan Fisher was picky when it came to women, despite what the papers might say to the contrary.

‘Shit! Jesus, will you look where you’re going?’

Ryan stopped and turned around, coming face-to-face with the last person he’d expected to see in a busy Newcastle bar on a Wednesday night. He just hadn’t had her down as the type of person to have fun on a weeknight. He didn’t have her down as the type of person to have fun, full stop. He suspected she’d been one of those kids who’d always handed their homework in on time, too.

‘Well, hello there, Ms. Sullivan. We meet again.’ He flashed her the famous Ryan Fisher smile, to no effect. Christ, she was a hard one to crack. But he was almost turned on at the prospect of the challenge.

‘Sorry would have been nice,’ Amber muttered, rubbing her shoulder. ‘You nearly took my arm off there.’

‘Okay… Sorry.’ He was still smiling, and Amber didn’t know whether that was making her angrier, or whether it was actually diffusing a situation that didn’t really need to become heated. At least four other people had bumped into her harder than he had just then, yet she hadn’t called any of those out for doing so.

‘Apology accepted,’ she said, repositioning the strap of her dress back on her shoulder. Very nice shoulders, too, Ryan thought.

‘You here on your own?’ Ryan asked, shoving his hands in the pockets of his black jeans.

Amber narrowed her eyes as she looked at him. Was there no end to this man’s rudeness? Although, he did have really beautiful eyes. A deep blue colour that Amber had never seen before. Jesus, that champagne really must have gone to her head.

Ryan reached out to quickly grab her arm as she briefly lost her balance. ‘Whoa there, gorgeous. You been knocking them back like there’s no tomorrow, then?’

Amber ignored him, trying desperately to sober up, pulling her arm free from his grip. ‘If you’ll excuse me…’

‘Are you here with Ronnie White?’ Ryan asked, not caring that he was getting personal again and that it was something she quite obviously didn’t like. Tough. He wanted to know what was going on there. Gary had said there was nothing between the ex-footballer and this incredibly pretty sports reporter, but what did he know? He’d rather hear it from her. Although the chance that she was going to impart any information to him on that score was probably less than zero.

Amber looked at him, right into those deep-blue eyes, and she had to steady herself again by grabbing onto the table behind her as her heart gave another surprise somersault. She really had to start eating more before she drank alcohol. She just wasn’t used to these kinds of nights out anymore.

‘What’s it got to do…?’

‘With me? Nothing. It’s got nothing to do with me. Not really. But, hey, I just want to know. And you get nowt if you don’t ask, do you?’

Amber couldn’t help smiling. His cocky attitude was something she truly hadn’t come across in such close proximity before, despite all her time around footballers just as famous as he was. But his Geordie accent was just a little bit sexy. She couldn’t deny that. She’d always loved the Geordie accent. And all that time away from the North East certainly hadn’t softened his.

‘You’re smiling,’ Ryan pointed out. Was he making progress here? Was he actually beginning to melt the ice-queen’s frosty exterior?

‘Am I?’ Amber asked, knowing that she was, and not really caring. She was having a great time tonight, even if she had somehow found herself in the middle of some sort of conversation with Ryan Fisher, arrogant bastard and self-styled northern playboy. And now she couldn’t even remember the question he’d asked her not two minutes ago. ‘Sorry, did you just ask me something?’

‘Are you here with Ronnie White? I mean, I know you said you’re just friends, but, someone told me you two used to go out, once-upon-a-time.’

‘Did they now,’ Amber said. It wasn’t a question.

‘You never told me that.’

‘Because it’s got nothing to do with you.’

‘So, did you? Go out with Ronnie White, I mean. Only, I hear you’ve got a bit of a strict “no footballers” rule going on.’

‘You’ve been hearing a lot tonight, haven’t you?’

‘Makes a change to hear stuff about other people, rather than me.’

‘Must be such a pain in the arse, not being the centre of attention.’

Ryan shrugged. ‘It’s good to get a night off.’

She couldn’t help smiling again, despite herself.

‘Anyway, you haven’t answered my question. You and Ronnie White…’

Amber looked over towards the corner table where Ronnie was talking into his mobile phone, laughing at whatever was being said down the line. ‘This really has got absolutely nothing to do with you, and I don’t even know why I’m telling you, but yes, we used to go out. For all of five minutes, really.’

‘Nothing mind-blowingly serious, then?’

She looked at him. ‘No. Nothing serious.’

Neither of them said anything for a few seconds, and then Ryan took his chance, gently grabbing her arm and steering her out into the quieter corridor that housed the toilets and an entrance that led to the bar’s outdoor terrace area.

‘What are you doing?’ Amber asked, taking a few seconds to register just what it was that was happening. That’d teach her to down champagne too quickly. She’d only had two glasses, but it was enough to make her reflexes slower and her judgement that little bit clouded.

‘Look, when I first met you yesterday I really didn’t like you. I mean, you’re this great-looking woman, but your attitude was crap…’

‘Excuse me? My attitude was crap? And which charm school did you graduate from? I’ve got to get back to Ronnie…’

‘No, hang on, Amber…’ He reached out to grab her arm again, swinging her back round to face him.

‘What? What do you want from me?’

He looked at her, not exactly sure how to answer that. He wanted to sleep with her, yeah. Of course he did. But, despite the fact he was Ryan Fisher – and if he wanted to sleep with someone then it usually happened – this was a whole different ball game. She wasn’t going to just fall at his feet like the girls he usually went for. He was going to have to work hard to get this one anywhere near his bed, and hard work outside of the football pitch wasn’t something Ryan was keen on. Would she be worth the effort? ‘I just want to get to know you,’ he said, his eyes not leaving hers.

‘Oh. Really.’ Again, it wasn’t a question.

‘Yeah. Really.’

‘You do know I’m a good few years older than you, don’t you?’

Ryan shrugged. ‘So? What’s that got to do with anything?’

Amber narrowed her eyes as she continued to stare at him. ‘So, you’re telling me you’re bored with all the young and pretty football groupies all vying for your attention. You thought you’d try your hand with an older woman instead. Is that it? You’re tired of the wannabe WAGs, huh?’

‘I’m not tired of anything, Amber. I’m not bored of anything and I’m not even thinking too hard about any of this. I just like what I see and I want to find out more. Where’s the harm in that?’

Amber just looked at him for a few more seconds before turning on her red high heels and walking away.

‘Amber! Jesus, come on… Shit!’ Ryan leaned back against the wall and ran a hand through his short, dark hair, closing his eyes for a moment. Under normal circumstances he’d give this up as a bad job and move onto the next one, but two things were different here: one – he’d never had to give anything up as a ‘bad job’ before because nobody had ever walked away from him like she’d just done. And two – he didn’t want to move onto the next one. He wanted Amber Sullivan.

‘Where’ve you been?’ Ronnie asked, looking up as Amber threw herself down on the sofa opposite him.

‘Fending off Ryan Fisher,’ Amber replied, taking her compact out of her make-up bag and checking her face. No, her make-up looked fine – mascara still in the right place, lipstick unsmudged.

‘Huh?’ Ronnie laughed.

Amber snapped her compact shut and looked straight at Ronnie. ‘Do you fancy some really hot sex with no strings attached?’

Ronnie looked around, almost as if he was positive she was talking to someone else and he was trying to see who that person was.

‘Well?’ Amber asked, standing up and sliding her bag up onto her shoulder.

‘Erm, I…’

‘Do you want sex or not, Ronnie? It’s a perfectly simple question. I’m not asking you to marry me or even take me out to dinner, and I know neither of us wants a relationship out of this so, hot sex, no strings. Are you up for it?’

Ronnie stood up, too, holding out his hand. ‘Why the hell not? You only live once.’

Ryan had had enough. He wasn’t really in the mood to hang around any longer, and with training in the morning, and him still with a point to prove at his new club, maybe going back home and getting some rest was the best option. And even though he could easily have gone back out there and picked any woman he wanted to take his mind off Amber Sullivan, he just didn’t feel like it anymore. And that worried him. Was he losing his touch? When had Ryan Fisher not been in the mood for sex? Especially when it was so readily available to him.