Читать книгу Striker - Michelle Betham - Страница 10

Ryan could feel the atmosphere from the stadium outside before he even reached the tunnel; the noise and the music and the excited cheers from the thousands of fans who’d turned up to see how the returning local hero was going to fit into this beloved club of theirs. He could hear it all the second they’d stepped out of the dressing room, the decibel level rising with each step of the short walk to the tunnel. He had a lot to prove, and he knew the pitfalls that would be waiting for him if he managed to stuff up his debut appearance.

He could feel his heart racing, his stomach turning in a mixture of excited and nervous somersaults, the noise of the crowd reaching a crescendo as both teams finally approached the tunnel, standing still for a few seconds side-by-side, hands behind their backs as they took in the sheer wall of sound that seemed to reverberate around the stadium outside.

Ryan smiled as a couple of his new teammates patted him on the shoulder and wished him good luck, whilst a player on the opposing team whom he’d never got along with threw him an altogether different expression that conveyed the hope that he’d break a leg or smash a shin bone. Ryan ignored him. Nothing like that was going to get to him today. Today he was focused, totally on his game, ready to prove that he was going to deliver everything he’d promised.

He closed his eyes and said a silent prayer, opening them quickly as more music blared out from the stadium tannoy system signalling the players’ cue to run out and get this match underway. And as Ryan jogged out of the tunnel, out onto a perfect pitch, the roar of the crowd was almost deafening. But it was exactly that which gave him the will to play this game to the best of his ability. It was that feeling only a stadium-full of football fans could give a player like him – a feeling of absolute determination not to let them down. He’d do it for them, and show them he was worth every single penny of those multi-million pounds this club had forked out for him. Ryan Fisher was home.

‘There’s no doubt about it, the guy can play football,’ Ronnie said, leaning against the small corner bar in the Players’ Lounge as the post-match crowd started to drift in. Everybody from journalists and sports reporters to pundits, players’ wives, friends and girlfriends would congregate in the Players’ Lounge to dissect the match, catch up with people they hadn’t seen in a while or, in the case of some of those aforementioned wives and girlfriends, bitch about somebody’s ill-advised choice of shoes, hairdo, or personalised number plate on their brand new, salmon-pink Range Rover.

‘Are you expecting somebody?’ Ronnie asked, taking a much-looked-forward-to sip of cold beer. He’d just spent the best part of two hours stuck in a commentary box and he was parched. The cups of tea he’d been given during the game just weren’t going to cut it anymore.

‘Hmm? Sorry?’ Amber said, turning to face him. ‘Did you say something?’

‘You keep looking at that door as if you’re expecting somebody to come through it.’

‘No I don’t.’ Amber frowned, her voice a touch more defensive than she’d wanted it to be.

‘Yeah. You do,’ Ronnie went on, taking another sip of beer. ‘So, when did you sleep with him, then?’

Amber almost choked on her lager. ‘Jesus Christ, Ronnie! How the hell do you know I’ve slept with Ryan Fisher?’

‘I didn’t,’ Ronnie said, leaning back against the bar again. ‘But you’ve just admitted it now.’

‘Shit! I hate you, do you know that?’ She took a long drink of lager. ‘Thursday night, if you must know.’

‘And you haven’t spoken to him since?’

‘Only when I grabbed a few words with him seconds after the match for News North East. Professional capacity only. In front of the camera wasn’t really the right time to discuss our sex life.’

‘So, you’ve got one, then?’

‘Got what?’ Amber asked, still somewhat distracted.

‘A sex life. Me on Wednesday night, Ryan Fisher on Thursday…’

‘You’re making me sound like some kind of slapper. It wasn’t like that.’

‘Well,’ Ronnie sighed. ‘I don’t want to say I told you so, kiddo…’

‘Then don’t. Because it was me who sent him packing, if you must know.’

Ronnie looked at her, frowning slightly. ‘Huh?’

‘He came to see me at work, I invited him round to my place, he looked hot – he looked really hot, actually – we had sex, then I told him to go. Simple as that.’

‘Why?’ Ronnie asked, wanting to ask so many questions but thinking better of it. She didn’t look as though she was in the mood for the Spanish Inquisition.

Amber looked over towards the door again, not caring that she was making it obvious now. ‘I got scared. I let my guard down, and I let it down in front of Ryan fucking Fisher, of all people.’ She took another drink of lager and slammed her glass down on the bar, putting her head in her hands. ‘Jesus, Ronnie. What have I done? I slept with one of the most notoriously arrogant, self-centred footballers there’s ever been, he’s probably told God knows how many people, and now my “no footballers” rule is tarnished forever.’

‘Wasn’t it tarnished the second you slept with me?’

‘You don’t count, Ronnie.’

‘Gee, thanks, Amber,’ Ronnie replied, a touch sarcastically.

‘You know what I mean,’ Amber sighed, suddenly feeling very tired. If the truth be told, she hadn’t really wanted to come to the match today, but she’d had to work, and she was nothing if not professional. Any personal feelings towards Ryan Fisher that she may be experiencing right now had to be pushed aside. She was just having a bit of trouble managing that.

‘Look, Amber, sweetheart. This ridiculous “no footballers” rule that you gave yourself was pointless anyway.’

‘Was it?’ Amber asked, looking up at him sharply. ‘How’s that, then?’

‘Because you’re around them all the time. The law of averages says you’re probably going to end up becoming involved with one at some point in your life.’

‘Well, thank you, Gypsy Rose Ronnie.’

Ronnie pulled a face and Amber poked her tongue out at him, her head turning to check out the door once more in a reaction that was almost reflex-driven by some kind of sixth sense, because just as she turned her head, he walked in. Tall, tanned, handsome and hot. Ryan Fisher. And practically every female in the room stopped what they were doing to stare at him. He had that kind of aura about him. But his eyes had locked straight onto hers, staring at her, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth. A mouth that had been covering her breasts and sending her to heaven only a couple of nights ago. And just the thought of that made her shiver, made her want to turn away and try and forget what she was feeling, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t do it.

‘I’d better go grab a few words with him,’ Amber swallowed, keeping her eyes on Ryan in case he disappeared into a crowd that was quite obviously very pleased to see him. Despite it being called the Players’ Lounge, it wasn’t all that often that any players actually came in there, so when they did they always attracted attention. And Ryan Fisher was hot property today. Hotter than usual, if that was actually possible. ‘On a professional level, of course.’

‘Of course,’ Ronnie said, arching an eyebrow before turning his attention to a fellow pundit who’d just arrived in the lounge.

Amber quickly weaved her way through the growing crowd of people now amassing in the small but comfortable Players’ Lounge, over towards Ryan, who was talking to his new boss. Her heart raced as she tried to adopt her professional stance and forget all about Thursday evening, after all, he probably had. There was no doubt that he’d be moving onto the next conquest at some point tonight when he did the usual footballer’s thing of celebrating a home win with a stupidly expensive night out. And the women, of course, would be queuing up. Shit! Why did that actually bother her?

As she approached Ryan, she accidentally caught the eye of Red Star’s new manager, Jim Allen. He’d come over to the UK from Washington DC over twenty years ago, a young and extremely talented soccer player who’d been lucky enough to play for some of the biggest clubs in the world in his time – including Newcastle Red Star, where he’d spent the final few years of his professional playing career. But he hadn’t just played in England; he’d also spent time in Spain and Germany, not to mention numerous international appearances for his country. He loved the game, and he’d been a great player in his day, but now he was making a name for himself as a pretty successful manager. And to say the Red Star fans had been over the moon when he’d been appointed as the new man in charge of their club was an understatement. Not only had they acquired Ryan Fisher, one of the greatest players around right now, they’d also managed to steal Jim Allen away from one of the biggest, most successful London clubs.

Jim Allen had come into management fairly young – at the age of thirty-five – but he’d already confirmed he was a force to be reckoned with over his thirteen or so years as a manager. Football was in his blood. He’d been a great player, and now he was proving to be an accomplished and well-respected manager; a natural people person, a savvy businessman. And it also didn’t hurt that Red Star had recently been bought out by a large, New York-based consortium who were more than happy to have a fellow American at the helm.

Amber had known Jim a long time, due to the close relationship he had with her father, but he almost always made her feel slightly uncomfortable every time she was around him. And she didn’t really want to be around him right now.

She looked away quickly as he smiled at her, staring down at her feet, her hands in her pockets. ‘Could I have a quick word with Ryan, please? For News North East?’

‘He’s all yours, honey,’ Jim Allen winked, giving her his best smile, and Amber looked away again, this time pretending to root around in her bag for some imaginary object. ‘How’s your old man, by the way? I hear he’s doing okay over there at Bracken Town.’

‘He’s fine,’ Amber replied, still rooting around in her bag, aware that Ryan’s eyes were on her. She could almost feel them boring into the back of her neck.

‘Well, tell him to give me a call, okay? It’s been a while since we’ve had a proper catch-up.’ His eyes met hers again. ‘Yeah… It’s been a long time.’ He turned his attention back to Ryan, leaving him with a friendly slap on the shoulder. ‘Proud of you today, kiddo. Be nice to Amber, okay? She’s a good friend of mine.’ He looked at her again. ‘A very good friend.’

Amber watched Jim leave, almost breathing an inner sigh of relief, before slowly turning round to face Ryan.

‘Not one word since Thursday?’ he asked, his comment, not to mention his tone of voice, taking her completely by surprise. She had no idea it would even have bothered him. She’d given him what he’d wanted, hadn’t she?

‘You’ve been holed up in a hotel since Friday afternoon, Ryan. There was no way to get in touch with you.’

Jim Allen was a great believer in making sure his players had as few distractions as possible before a match. The day before any game – be it home or away – he’d take his team to a hotel, away from everything, away from all outside distractions, and make sure they were focused on nothing but football. No contact of any kind with wives, girlfriends or any family members was allowed – unless it was an emergency, of course. He wanted everyone to think only about the forthcoming match, and nothing else.

‘That’s crap, Amber. We didn’t leave for the fucking hotel until after 3 o’clock…’

Amber quickly switched to professional mode, looking him straight in the eye. ‘Any more thoughts on this evening’s match?’

‘For fuck’s sake, Amber, we’ve already done this… I loved every second of it, the crowd were amazing, the boss is a legend, and I was proud to get a hat-trick on my debut for the club. There. Anything else you need to know? Not one frigging word, Amber.’

‘Hang on, can we rewind a bit here because I’m a touch confused. You are Ryan Fisher, aren’t you? The one who, quite frankly, will sleep with anything that shows him the slightest bit of interest and then prays they never want to see him again once the sex is over? That is you, isn’t it?’

‘You were different, Amber,’ Ryan hissed, trying to keep his voice down, but he was more than agitated that she didn’t seem to care about what had happened between them. Because he did. Oh, he didn’t want to. Jesus, of course he didn’t want to feel that way, but he did. ‘I didn’t want to leave; you do know that, don’t you?’

Amber said nothing at first, just looked at him, searching his handsome face because there was something different about him today that she hadn’t really noticed before. Sincerity? Was that it?

‘I needed you to go, Ryan,’ she whispered. Her stomach felt as though it was tied up in knots, the confusion she’d been feeling since Thursday threatening to overwhelm her again. For so many reasons.

‘Why, Amber? Why did you need me to go? Because you actually enjoyed yourself and were afraid to let anyone know that?’

‘Come on, Ryan. I’d just slept with you – with you, so how do you expect me to react?’

‘What the hell’s that supposed to mean?’

She looked away for a second, looking over at Ronnie who was deep in conversation with a couple of reporters she recognised. ‘I didn’t want to be another conquest, Ryan.’

‘You weren’t. You aren’t.’

She looked at him. ‘Why should I believe you? I mean, you have such a reputation, a reputation that…’

‘That means I couldn’t possibly find someone that makes me feel different?’

Amber stared at him. She just stared at him, because she couldn’t actually think of anything to say.

‘Okay, I have a reputation, I’ll hold my hands up to that,’ Ryan began, staring down at his trainers for a second. ‘And, as you’ve just pointed out, I’ve obviously got a lot of work ahead of me if I ever want to leave that reputation behind.’

‘Why would you want to leave it behind?’ Amber asked, narrowing her eyes as she continued to stare at him. ‘I mean, this is what you do, isn’t it? This is you. This is the way you live your life.’

‘Have you ever thought that I might actually want to give a proper relationship a go?’

Amber couldn’t help laughing. ‘Ha! Come on, Ryan. You’ve tried that before and it just doesn’t work. You don’t really want that…’

‘Hey, do you want to quit telling me what it is I want?’ He ran a hand through his hair, those incredible dark blue eyes of his full of confusion, which only served to make him look twice as handsome, Amber noticed. If that was possible. ‘Look, come out to dinner with me. Tonight.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I like you, Amber. I like being with you, I like the vibes you give off, and I even like the fact you’re a pain in the arse who refuses to give footballers a chance. And I can’t lie – the sex was amazing. Jesus, sweetheart, you have one killer body.’

Amber felt herself blush. What was she? Sixteen?

‘Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want to see me again. Come on. Look me in the eye and tell me that was it, and if you can do that, well…’ He shrugged, ‘… end of story.’

She looked him right in the eye, but she couldn’t say it, could she? Because she wouldn’t mean it. ‘Okay,’ she sighed, rolling her eyes as though accepting a dinner date with Ryan Fisher was the world’s biggest chore, when really she felt elated that he’d told her all those things. Maybe he did deserve that chance she’d denied him on Thursday. ‘Dinner it is. Where?’

‘Franco’s. Do you know it? It’s in town…’

‘Yeah, I know it,’ Amber said, trying not to let the smile she was dying to let loose escape onto her face just yet. She didn’t want him to know she was actually looking forward to seeing him later. ‘I’ll meet you there. Eight-thirty?’

Ryan wasn’t used to women making the decisions quite as forcefully as she did, but on her it was a turn-on. He couldn’t help wondering if she brought that dominating streak into the bedroom, but maybe if he played his cards right tonight he’d find out.

‘Eight-thirty it is,’ he grinned, sticking his hands in his pockets. ‘Looking forward to it.’

Amber just gave him a small smile back then turned and walked away. Ryan had absolutely no idea why this woman had got to him, but she had. Maybe it was because she was just so different to all the other girls he was used to. Maybe it was because she didn’t fall at his feet with the click of a finger. He didn’t know, but whatever it was he wanted to find out more.

‘Great match, lad. You did me proud out there.’

Ryan swung round at the sound of the strong Geordie accent behind him, leaning back against the wall, sighing heavily. ‘Dad.’

‘I thought you would’ve been to see us, Ryan. Your mam’s been looking forward to having her boy back home after all these years.’

‘I’ve been busy.’

‘Too busy to spare a few minutes to come and see your mam and dad?’

Ryan looked at his father. ‘I don’t need the nagging, Dad. Mam treats me like I’m still a kid sometimes.’

‘With good reason, son. Because sometimes you act like it.’

Ryan continued to stare at his dad. ‘Those days are over now. Okay?’

‘I hope you’re right, Ryan. Still, at least you’re back home now. Back where you belong.’

Ryan looked at his dad through slightly narrowed eyes, but said nothing.

‘Your mam’s worried sick about you, lad.’

Ryan threw his head back and sighed again. ‘Jesus…’ He looked straight at his father, running a hand through his dark hair. ‘I’m fine, alright? Everything is just fine.’

‘Is it? After everything…’

‘It’s fine, Dad.’ Ryan’s voice left his father in no doubt that his son didn’t want to take this conversation any further. But that was easier said than done.

‘Your mam always told me that letting you settle in London was a bad idea. She blames me for everything…’

‘Christ, Dad, come on. None of it was your fault. It was nobody’s fault but mine. I got myself into all that shit.’

‘And I hope you’re well out of it now, son. It’s good that you’ve come back home.’

‘Where you can keep an eye on me? Is that it?’

‘If that’s what it takes, Ryan. Yes. I hear you’ve just bought a brand new flat down on the Quayside.’

Ryan looked at his dad, his hands jammed firmly in his pockets, not enjoying this unwelcome interrogation. ‘I need somewhere to live.’

‘The club had given you a perfectly good house to stay in. For as long as you needed it.’

‘I want my own place, okay?’

‘Is the city centre the most sensible choice of location, son? It’s a bit close to…’

‘That house, it wasn’t me,’ Ryan interrupted. ‘I wasn’t comfortable there.’

His father fixed him with a stare that demanded the truth. ‘Are you…?’

‘Am I, what?’ Ryan asked, his stare just as determined.

‘You know what I’m asking, Ryan.’

‘I’m getting there, Dad. That’s all you need to know.’

‘Aye, well, as long as you are, lad. As long as you are.’

‘Do I look alright?’ Amber asked Ronnie as he pulled up at the corner of the street where Franco’s restaurant was situated.

‘You look fine,’ Ronnie replied as he fiddled with his in-car MP3 player.

Amber looked at him. ‘Fine. I look fine?’

Ronnie stared at her. ‘Yeah. You look fine.’

Amber said nothing, just raised her eyebrows and gave him a wide-eyed look. Ronnie shrugged, genuinely confused. ‘What? What do you want me to say? Who the hell am I? Gok frigging Wan? You look great, okay? Is that better?’

Amber still said nothing, just pulled down the visor and checked her face in the small, side-lit mirror, running her tongue over her teeth just in case any pale pink lip gloss had found its way on there.

‘Do you know what you’re doing?’ Ronnie asked, finally finding a playlist he was happy with.

Amber looked at him. ‘Of course I know what I’m doing. I’m having dinner with Ryan Fisher.’

‘You know what I mean. I want to make sure you know just what it is you might be getting into. Although, if you want my opinion…’

‘Which I don’t.’

Ronnie ignored her. ‘If you want my opinion, I don’t think you should be getting into it at all.’

‘I’m not getting “into” anything, Ronnie.’

‘Well, with the greatest of respect, Amber, you already are into something when you sleep with somebody.’

‘So, what does that make our relationship then? Huh? Do you want to explain that one?’

Ronnie looked out of the window for a second. She kind of had him there.

‘No, didn’t think so. Because you can’t, can you? Look, Ronnie, like I said before, I’m not getting “into” anything. I’m just having dinner. That’s all. Ryan and I both know where we stand, and just because we appear to be doing things a little back to front, it doesn’t actually have to mean anything’s going on.’

‘Y’know, you might think you’re all hard-faced and nobody can tell you anything, but you’re still my best friend and I care about you, okay? And, let’s face it, where men are concerned you’re not exactly experienced, are you?’

‘Yeah, thanks for that, Ronnie.’

‘Amber, sweetheart… you said that all of this doesn’t have to mean that anything’s going on, but…’

‘But what?’ Amber asked, looking right into Ronnie’s eyes.

‘But… do you want something to happen? Even just a little bit?’

She sat back in the passenger seat of his black BMW, the dark leather interior cool against her skin. ‘Look, Ronnie, I know I’ve always said I really didn’t want to get involved with footballers, mainly because I assumed you were all like Ryan Fisher. But you proved me wrong, and I think Ryan might actually prove me wrong, too. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just getting softer, but I’m willing to see how tonight goes. People can change, y’know.’

Ronnie raised a concerned eyebrow. ‘You think so, huh? You think someone like Ryan Fisher is just going to change overnight? Don’t go rushing into anything, Amber. Please.’

‘It’s a bit late for that, isn’t it?’ Amber smiled, grabbing her handbag and opening the car door. ‘I mean, like you said before, we’ve already slept together, haven’t we?’

Ronnie gave a resigned sigh, smiling back at her as she leaned in through the open passenger window, blowing him a kiss. ‘Have a good time, kiddo.’

‘I’ll try,’ she winked at him before waving him off, standing still for a few seconds, just to compose herself. Again. She seemed to be composing herself a lot where Ryan Fisher was concerned.

The restaurant was busy when she finally walked in, but then it was Saturday night in the centre of town. She’d never actually been inside Franco’s before, mainly because it was the haunt of local celebrities and footballers and therefore the price range was a little out of her league, but she’d always wondered what it would be like to eat there. She was also one of life’s truly nosy people, and to be able to get a glimpse at the clientele that frequented this famous local restaurant was something she was particularly looking forward to.

Sliding her clutch bag under her arm, she scanned the room as she waited at the front desk for the maitre d’, but she couldn’t see Ryan anywhere. What if he’d had a better offer from someone younger, thinner and blonde? She could do without that kind of kick in the teeth.

‘You look amazing.’

She swung round at the sound of that now-familiar voice, trying to keep the smile off her face as she saw him standing there behind her. Dressed in a dark suit and white shirt, no tie, and that sexy, messed-up hair that he really was carrying off so well, it was all Amber could do to stop a sharp intake of breath from escaping. As usual, Ryan Fisher looked hot. Handsome, sexy, young and dangerous. Cocky, arrogant, selfish and smug. All things that described this man in front of her, but Amber was willing to give him that chance he seemed so set on having. But if he blew it, then she was walking away. No second chances, no lame explanations. She was breaking the biggest rule she’d ever set herself and if he gave her cause to regret that then this was going no further.

‘I was at the bar,’ he went on, his hands in his pockets, a smile on his handsome face. She couldn’t help noticing how sexy that beard of his really was. He suited it. It made her think of a young George Best in his heyday, and then she couldn’t help hoping that he didn’t resemble him in other ways, too. Because she’d heard the stories, listened to the rumours. ‘Do you want a drink before we get settled at our table?’

‘Please,’ Amber smiled, positive she was breaking out in some kind of hot flush. She was only eleven years older than him but she felt like some kind of Mrs. Robinson figure. She felt as if all eyes were on her, which they probably weren’t. But they could quite possibly all be on Ryan. ‘And make it a large one.’

Ryan laughed a deep, almost rough-edged laugh that made Amber’s skin break out in a zillion goose bumps. Was there anything this man did that wasn’t sexy? ‘That kind of day, huh?’

She looked at him as they walked over to the dimly-lit but cosy bar area, the low lighting making him look younger than his twenty-six years. She could only hope it was as kind to her. ‘Not really. I’m just nervous. There, I’ve said it. I’ll have a white wine, please.’

‘Okay. Coming up,’ he said, smiling slightly as he turned to order their drinks. ‘So,’ he went on, turning back to face her, ‘… want to know something? I’m nervous, too.’

‘Really?’ Amber asked, unable to hide the slightly cynical tone in her voice. She did, however, hope that he meant it and he wasn’t just saying it to make her feel better. Although even that would be a really kind thing for him to do. Hang on, had she just described Ryan Fisher as ‘kind’?

‘Yeah, really,’ Ryan replied, handing her a large glass of white wine. ‘Even arrogant, self-centred bastards can get nervous sometimes.’

She took a sip of wine, keeping her eyes on his on all the time. ‘I still find that incredibly hard to believe. Come on, Ryan, you can’t blame me. There’s hardly a week goes by when you’re not in some gossip magazine or showbiz section of some newspaper or other with something that falls into the category of Z-List celebrity hanging off your arm. There was a time when footballers only used to feature on the back pages of newspapers.’

‘You’re not in the least bit cynical, then?’ he asked, although it was purely a rhetorical question. Boy, it was going to be a long haul to get this one on side. She was going to be hard work, but something was telling Ryan she’d be worth it. He hadn’t realised how exciting a bit of a challenge would be until he’d met Amber Sullivan. And maybe she was just what he needed right now – someone to take his mind off everything else.

‘Cynical? Me?’ Amber smiled, taking another sip of wine. ‘As if.’

Ryan smiled, too, holding out his hand. ‘Shall we sit down?’

Amber nodded, slipping her hand into his, her stomach turning a tiny somersault as his fingers curled around hers. It had been a long time since she’d experienced those somersaults, those little stomach flips that told you something exciting might be about to happen. But, as Amber was the eternal pessimist, she never let herself get carried away with such feelings. And she had to remember who she was dealing with here.

‘So, the lure of the post-home-win-celebrations with some of the lads wasn’t grabbing you, huh?’ Amber asked, resting her chin in her hand as she looked at him across the candle-lit table.

Ryan shrugged, giving her that famous smile of his again. ‘I fancied a change.’

‘Oh, so that’s what I am, then? A change. I see…’

‘I didn’t mean it like that…’

‘I know you didn’t,’ Amber smiled. ‘I just wanted to see how genuine you are.’

‘Are you gonna constantly test me like this?’

Amber shrugged. ‘Probably. It takes a lot for me to trust somebody, Ryan. I’ve been around sportsmen too long, believe me. I know what a lot of you are like.’

He leaned forward, keeping his eyes on hers, not willing to break the stare. ‘Do you, though? Do you really? You said yourself you’ve kept away from relationships with footballers in particular, so, if that’s the case, then you only know what you see on the surface – what you read about, what you hear them talking about, and believe me, Amber, there are a few of them out there who like to furnish the truth quite a bit. So, you see, you only think you know what we’re like. You don’t actually know anything.’

‘Don’t I?’

He shook his head. ‘No. You don’t.’

‘How do you know that, huh? You don’t really know anything about me, so how do you know that?’

‘Because, bar your relationship with Ronnie White, you’ve never let yourself get close enough. At least, that’s what you’re leading me to assume. So, what you think you know only scratches the surface in reality, doesn’t it?’

‘You really are arrogance personified, aren’t you?’

‘Look, Amber, all I’m saying is that if you, maybe, stopped being so cynical, tore down those barriers you seem to have built around yourself and just let someone in, you might actually find something there that could change your mind. If you’re willing to give them a chance.’

She wanted to give him a chance. She’d told Ronnie as much, and there was no doubt that she was attracted to him. But she’d spent so long backing away from relationships and concentrating on her career that she didn’t really know what to do next. Or how to handle it all. How the hell did you handle a relationship with somebody like Ryan Fisher? And is that what they were talking about here – a relationship? Is that what was happening? Is that what she wanted? What he wanted?

‘I can pull ’em down, if you like,’ Ryan said, giving her that grin of his.

She couldn’t help smiling back. ‘Pull what down, exactly?’

He sat back, adopting a more-than-casual stance. Cocky, even. But that was just the way he was. The way he chose to showcase himself. And she figured she was just going to have to learn to deal with it if she really wanted to get closer to him.

‘Those barriers of yours,’ he smirked, causing Amber to laugh out loud, against her better judgement. ‘There you go. You’re not such an ice-queen after all, are you?’

‘Jesus, is that how I really come across?’ Amber asked, smiling her thanks at the wine waiter as he topped up her half-empty glass.

‘Sometimes. But, hey, you just need warming up a bit.’

‘Reel it in, will you, Ryan. I get it, okay?’

He looked at her through slightly narrowed eyes. It was all a front as far as he was concerned, this ice-queen image. She was using it as some kind of shield to hide behind, and he should know. ‘I just want to get to know you, Amber. Is that such a bad thing?’

She shook her head, finally allowing herself to feel comfortable with him, although the drink could be helping on that score. But a little bit of help never hurt, did it?

‘No. It’s not a bad thing at all.’

‘Okay. Then, let’s start again, shall we? My name’s Ryan, and I’m pleased to meet you.’

She couldn’t help smiling at him as she felt herself relax. ‘Pleased to meet you, too, Ryan. I’m Amber.’

‘Well hello, Amber.’ He leaned forward, clasping his hands together on the table in front of him. ‘I think you and I are gonna get along just fine, don’t you?’

She leaned forward, too, copying his stance, looking into those deep, almost navy, blue eyes of his. And she had absolutely no reason to argue with that.