Page 28 of The Game

"Diet coke please, Man of the Match."

He grinned and his cheeks flushed a flare of pale pink. "Diet coke? That's rubbish, have a glass of something to celebrate."

I shook my head. "I can't. I'm driving." I didn't add that I preferred not to drink alcohol.

Across the bar, an icy glare lingered in my direction as Bailey ordered me a coke. There was no exchange of money, so I guessed management were running a tab.

A blonde cheerleader whose name I hadn't managed to learn, sidled up and stood alongside the Lion. I pretended not to notice, but out of the corner of my eye, I watched as much as I could without being obvious. He didn't look at her, didn't even acknowledge she was there, which was a feat considering she was five foot ten of stunning. He just carried on sipping his pint of beer.

I smirked. Okay, I know it was childish, but I smirked all the same.

Bailey got pulled away to talk to some super fans, and I toyed with my drink. Social gatherings weren't in my comfort zone; I'd rather walk over hot coals than stand in a bar. I should have just gone home.

"You know he fancies you?"

I didn't need to turn. I knew the voice with more recognition than I wanted to acknowledge. It did something uncomfortable to my stomach, pulling it down low and setting my jangled nerves on edge like a set of castanets.

"Bailey?" I tried to keep my voice level, but it wavered a note. "I don't think so." I wanted to say 'don't be daft’, but that would have come across as too overfamiliar, and the truth was the Lion and I weren't in a position to be having a passing chitchat. He'd put a stop to that by being a total arse.

"No, and why not?" God, was he turning and resting an arm on the bar to look at me?

My eyes slid in his direction. Yes, he was. The Lion had an arm on the bar, his hip resting against the glossy wood as he watched me through hooded lids.

"Uh, because I'm too old for him, and because I'm his fitness coach and it would be inappropriate." My excuses sounded crap.

The Lion's eyes skimmed over my face, resting on my mouth. I knew how it felt to be a gazelle chased down by a lion. I was rooted to the spot. "And do you worry about age and rules?"

His knee was about a millimetre from pressing into my thigh. My leg twitched as if it was trying to propel itself forward without my agreement and my eyes drank up the sight of his wide mouth. The mouth that looked soft, but I knew wasn’t.

Why was he doing this? Why was he talking to me at all?

What was going on?

I met his eyes, I had to. I refused to let him intimidate me. "It depends."

He watched me in silence, his lips pressing into a firm line. I could see the icy blue of his eyes closer than I ever would have thought possible. Where the posters on Sammy's walls had them looking like glaciers, up close the vibrant pale blue was shot through with flashes of a darker tone, like the sky at twilight. They stood out, framed by the fair lashes and tanned skin.

He leant in towards me, his fair hair brushing against my cheek as he whispered close to my ear. Warm breath rushed over my cheek, and a tingle ran down my spine. "I went to the doctors about my shoulder."

Surprised by his admission, I glanced back up into those eyes only to find them watching me intently. "And?" Why did I sound so breathless? It was because I couldn’t breathe because the smell of him was filtering into my consciousness filling every spare remnant of space inside my head, absorbing the air I needed to survive. Damn if he didn’t smell good.

"I think I could do with your help." His voice lowered further, and I thought for a prolonged moment his lips were going to brush my ear. They didn't. "If you are still willing."

The Lion was asking for my help. The greatest English cricketer of all time was asking for my help. His eyes blinked slowly, fluttering behind golden lashes as he watched and waited for my response.

I didn't have any words, none that were any use, so I nodded instead.

Desperate to break the spell he was casting over me, causing me to lose any sense of self-preservation, I stepped away and began to find someone else to talk too. His fingers caught my elbow through the thin material of my cotton shirt, coaxing me back toward him. "Rivers, I can't have any one else knowing. Do you understand?"

Looking directly into his eyes, I tried to read him, tried to get a grasp on this man who was more contradictions than I ever would have thought possible. I couldn't. The Lion was an enigma. An enigma holding my elbow in his gentle fingers in a packed bar. I shifted, someone would see soon. "I understand," I said eventually, and then I slipped into the crowd desperate to try to breathe.

"Aunty Lyssi!" Sammy's high pitched call caused me to sit bolt upright and blink at my surroundings. Asleep to awake in a split second. I blinked some more while I gathered my bearings, taking in the walls and the curtains of my own bedroom. My exhausted sleep had been deep and riddled with twisted dreams I didn’t want to contemplate under the glare of the vibrant morning sun.

"Aunty Lyssi!" His voice was louder this time, shriller like it was the time he was facing down the monster spider in the bathroom and was stuck on the toilet too scared to move. I leapt out of bed, my legs tangling in the sheets and propelled myself for the door.

No spider was going to defeat my nephew, not on my watch. "Where are you?" I called.

"Down here."