In Touch (Play On #1) Read Free Page B

don’t need my help getting your bags to the curb…”
    “I’ll be grand.” Padraig motioned out to the street. “Will he be picking me up in the front, like?”
    She pointed. “Yep, right out there.”
    Padraig had grabbed up his bags and had turned to leave when a soft hand clasped his arm. “We’ve sure been looking forward to all you new guys playing for us this year. First time we’ve had foreign players on our pitch.” Tugging at him, she was able to draw his gaze to hers. “We have high hopes. I’m sure you’ll do this club proud.”
    His jaw tightened, and he didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t rightly tell her he wasn’t planning on sticking around. Or this small club was a joke compared to the major provincial club he’d played for in Ireland. Nothing better than the roar of “Fields of Athenry” or the chant of “Mun-ster, Mun-ster, Mun-ster” as the crowd rallied the team when they were down, or when they were pushing ahead with a great run toward the goal, yards dropping behind them. Blood lust and a drive to get over the line.
    The adrenaline rush. The noise—it made him stronger, and he didn’t feel the pain. How was he going to play here?
    He gave her a pinched smile. “I hope so. Heard the other boys are already here. Sorry I missed last week’s training.” Because his agent had still tried to the last minute to get a contract with a European club, but with no luck. Word had spread fast, the news reaching even the smallest clubs on the continent.
    “I’m sure you’ll fit right in and have no troubles.”
    All Padraig wanted to do was get away from her prying eyes. “Sure, I’ll be going then.”
    “I’ll get the door for you.”
    Padraig nodded. “Cheers.”
    He passed, and when he turned back, the receptionist fluttered her fingers at him. “See you Monday.”
    Out of the corner of his eye, a shape loomed up the sidewalk, drawing nearer. “Unfortunately,” Padraig whispered under his breath.
    He swung around, his large duffel bag shoving the person off the pavement and into the grass. She sidestepped quickly. “Whoa, there.”
    “Pardon me.”
    Jean shorts on long legs. That’s what he saw first. Then a baggy black T-shirt and a long necklace with some hand pendant at the end. He took a second look. She had big, curly hair and old-style tortoise-rimmed glasses on her face. Fuzzy ringlets escaped around her freckled face. Her legs were mighty fine, but unglamorously ended in high-top black Converse.
    She smiled. “No problem.”
    And with that smile, his stomach clenched, tightening into a lead ball at the center of his abdomen. Her grin was pure magic. Not a buzz from a woman in almost a year, and she was the one to get him going. What the fuck? It must be the jet lag.
    She was still standing in the grass so he shifted his bag to the other hand. “Sorry ’bout that.”
    She moved back onto the pavement. “Like I said, it’s no worries.”
    They both stood there, looking at each other. She finally broke the awkward silence with “Well, see you around.”
    He drew his gaze along the length of her again.
    She noticed his blatant appraisal, rolled her eyes, and walked away.
    Nice ass, but not his type. But thank feck his dick still worked.
     

Chapter 3
     
    The smell hit her first. A combination of strong aftershave, Lynx or some crap like that, and overused Bengay. Why anyone still used the stuff, Gillian couldn’t understand. It didn’t really help, and there was nothing better than good ol’ natural heat to loosen muscles. She made a mental note to remember her rice bags next time.
    Enlightenment for the boys was the first step. Then she’d introduce her other therapies. That was going to be her strategy to get the job. Not that she needed to get the job. She was volunteering. Coach said the meeting was only a formality. Dress casual. Nae bother, he had said. But perhaps casual didn’t mean the T-shirt and shorts she wore. Shoot, she should have made