One Kiss to Win: A Bad Boy Sports Romance

by Romi Hart

  We arrived outside a sleek, minimalist restaurant that looked the very definition of chic. It had large, floor-to-ceiling windows that presumably allowed the commoners outside to catch a glimpse of the celebrity clientele within, and the place was already packed-out when I got there. I paid the driver, climbed out of the cab, and was headed for the door when I heard a voice from behind me.

  “Hey!”

  I turned, and found myself faced with Adam once more. He was waiting out the restaurant, holding an umbrella that he swiftly used to keep me safe from the rain.

  “Oh, hello,” I nodded at him, feeling a little flustered. I guessed this was his English gentleman thing coming through, but I had expected him to be waiting inside for me instead. He grinned down at me, face a little damp from the rain.

  "You look lovely," he remarked, and then turned to the door. He opened it for me and ushered me in, out of the cold. I took the opportunity to sneak a look at him as he did so; he looked good, dressed from head-to-toe in one of the expensive suits that I recognized from his own line. It was a deep navy blue, and set off the darkness of his eyes perfectly. Before I knew it, we were standing in front of the host, who was ushering us to our seats before we'd even given so much as a name. I raised my eyebrows as he pulled out a chair for me and Adam took his seat opposite mine. I wasn't used to this kind of treatment.

  “I know, I know,” Adam assured me as I took my seat. “It’s weird. It takes a while to get used to.”

  "I hope I don't ever get used to it," I replied as I looked at the host, who was already scuttling back off to the kitchen, presumably to let the rest of the staff know who had just walked in the door.

  "Thanks for meeting with me again," I pulled my Dictaphone from my purse and placed it on the table, in full view of the window, just in case anyone passing by outside saw us and thought we were on an actual date. Yes, it would have made for some fun conversation with the superior moms at Jacob's school, but I couldn't handle the complications that came with it.

  “Anytime,” he flashed me a killer smile, and I had to look down at the table to keep from flushing bright red. Dammit, I needed to get myself together. I had a job to do.

  “So, why this place?” I asked as I gestured around. “I mean, there must be some good British food around here, right?”

  He tipped his head back and laughed as though I’d said something hysterical.

  "Have you ever tried British food?" He cocked an eyebrow at me playfully. "There's a reason you don't have British takeaway all over this city, you know."

  “Maybe I’m a big fan of British food,” I shot back, a little more petulantly than I necessarily had to.

  “Are you?”

  “Well, no,” I admitted with a grin. “But now you’ve got me intrigued.”

  “I actually do know a place,” Adam glanced around conspiratorially, as though he didn’t want anyone overhearing us.

  “What do you mean?” I cocked a head. “Do you…I thought we were eating here?”

  “Eh, this place is a little too fancy for my liking,” he shook his head. “It was the place my assistant picked out for me.”

  “So you didn’t even choose this yourself?” I cocked my head to the side playfully. “I don’t know whether I should be insulted or not.”

  “Come on, there’s a taxi right outside,” he got to his feet, and held his hand out to me; without a second thought, I tucked my hand into his, grabbed my Dictaphone and purse, and we headed for the door.

  The host returned just in time to see us leaving, and his face fell as he returned from the kitchen. I felt bad, but not bad enough to stop whatever it was we were doing. I had a big grin plastered across my face, a goofy smile that I had felt like putting on in a long time.

  "Is everything alright, sir?" The host looked at us, at our giddy expressions, and I was pretty sure he thought we were running out of there to hook up. Adam raised his hand in an "a-okay" symbol and nodded.

  “Everything was great, but we’re just not that hungry,” he replied with a grin. “Thanks for your time.”

  We ducked back outside and found a taxi sitting just a few feet from the entrance of the restaurant. He was still holding my hand, and I felt a few eyes on us as people made their way by. It was strange, to be noteworthy out in public like this. Usually, the only time anyone paid any attention to me was if Jacob was throwing a tantrum somewhere in public, and at those times I just wished that I could fade into the background and vanish entirely. It was nice to be noticed for the right reasons – specifically, a superstar on my arm.

  We slipped into the taxi, and I stole a little look at him as we pulled away. I couldn’t quite believe this was happening. It still didn’t feel quite real, after all that time I’d spent researching him and watching videos of him and thinking about him, for him to be sitting opposite me like this, like it was nothing.

  We soon pulled up outside what looked like the kind of place I would avoid with a vengeance on a Saturday night; it was small, looked dingy from the outside, and had a handful of older dudes standing outside smoking. But Adam was peering through the window with excitement as we got out of the car, opening the door for me and hurrying inside and out of the rain.

  “What is this place?” I asked, looking around as though I’d been dumped in a parallel universe. It was a bar, sure, but they sure had changed since the days when I went out on the town. It was dim, almost empty, and the walls were packed out with black-and-white pictures of soccer teams from days past.

  “It’s a proper pub,” Adam smiled at me, nudging me in the direction of a booth. “Come on, grab a seat and I’ll get us something to eat and a couple of pints.”

  "Whatever you say," I agreed, sliding into one of the seats and looking around. I had to admit, the place had a warm atmosphere, far more welcoming than the fancy-but-sterile demeanor of the last restaurant. I liked it better here.

  He returned a few minutes later with a couple of beers and slipped into the seat opposite me. He pushed one across the table to me as I got my Dictaphone set up, and sat back, sighing with satisfaction.

  “No-one’s paying attention to you in here,” I remarked, leaning forward as though worried I would blow our cover.

  “No-one gives a shit,” he waved a hand. “Seriously. Even if they figured out who I was they’ve got better things to do than chase me down for autographs or whatever.”

  “You come here a lot?” I asked, and he nodded, grinning.

  "More than I'd care to admit," He cocked his head to the side. "I know I'm meant to be more interested in all that expensive crap but I don't have the time for it. This is my favorite place in town."

  I clicked record and leaned back in my seat, taking a sip of my beer.

  “So, you come here when you’re feeling homesick, or what?” I asked, and he shrugged.

  “I guess just when I need to feel like I belong somewhere,” he replied, his honesty taking me off-guard.

  “I just hate the feeling like I’m out of place over here in America,” he went on. “I like it here and everything, but I never thought I would actually be living somewhere where I was such a big deal, you know?”

  “Really?” I raised an eyebrow. “Like you weren’t a big deal back in Europe?”

  “I mean, yeah, I guess I was, but that was different – I knew how all the celebrity stuff worked over there, and over here it just seems a hell of a lot more intense,” he went on, taking a sip of his drink and fiddling with one of the coasters. “Everything is just up to eleven, you know?”

  “I do,” I nodded. I was surprised at how eloquent he was, even though I knew I shouldn’t have been. We were way past the time when it was logical to treat sportspeople like they were idiots by default, and he had to have some smarts to have built up the empire that he had behind him.

  “But you spent so long making sure that everyone everywhere knew your face,” I pointed out. “You can’t be that surprised that you’re a big deal over here as well as everywhere
else in the world?”

  “I know, I know,” he waved a hand, acknowledging what I was saying without outright agreeing with me. “But when all that stuff comes along, it’s hard to say no. I didn’t know where it would land me.”

  “Would you have done things differently if you could?” I asked, leaning forward with interest. This interview was already taking a juicy turn. He shrugged.

  “I have no idea,” he replied, and it sounded as though he was telling the truth. Before I could push him for any more answers, our food arrived.

  “Thank God, I’m so hungry,” he sighed, smiling up at our waitress. “Thanks.”

  She put down two plates of food in front of us; I looked down at the plate and cocked an eyebrow.

  "So, what's this?" I asked as she backed off again, shooting a second look at Adam that could have been because she recognized him or because he was the stone-cold best looking guy in this bar by a long shot.

  “Fish and chips, but done properly,” he replied. “Tartare sauce, beer batter, thick-cut chips…this is the only thing that American severely lacks, and it’s a big one.”

  I grabbed my knife and fork, the rich savory scent wafting up towards my nostrils and making my stomach growl happily.

  “What, did you open this place especially so you would have somewhere to be snobby about American food?” I teased, and he shook his head as he tucked in.

  “Don’t get me wrong, you guys have the best deep-fried stuff I’ve ever seen in the world,” he held his hands up, conceding the point. “But you just can’t seem to get this stuff quite right.”

  “This, and tea, right?” I took a sip of my drink before I started eating. “I hear that we can never get that right either.”

  "Don't get me started," he growled playfully, and soon enough the conversation was flowing between us; about the UK versus America, soccer, sports culture, branding, and everything in between. He was sharp and funny, and made me snort so hard that I had to cover my mouth to keep from spraying food all over him a couple of times. The three beers we put away helped, too. Soon enough, I found myself loosening up, answering the questions he threw in my direction too.

  “So, where did you grow up?” He asked as I finished up my meal.

  "A few miles outside the city," I replied. "Not far from here, actually. I moved to the city center a…uh, a few years ago."

  “What changed?”

  “Not much,” I shrugged, still deftly avoiding the subject of my son. “I guess I was just ready for a change after living in the suburbs for so long.”

  “And when did you get into…this stuff?” He pointed at the Dictaphone. “Is that thing still recording, by the way?”

  “It better be,” I replied. “Why? You want to say something off the record?”

  “No, no,” he replied, nudging his knees up against mine under the table. “Though it’s good to know that’s an option.”

  “It’s still on, but I think I’ve got everything I need for the article now,” I assured him. I reached for the Dictaphone and clicked it off, sliding it back into my purse, well aware that now that the interview portion was done with, anything that came after would be officially a date. He seemed to realize it too, and sat back in his seat, a cocky smile a mile wide playing over his lips.

  “So, you want to go for a walk or something?” He glanced outside. “The rain’s stopped, and I could do with some fresh air.”

  “I’m not sure the air outside this place is anything close to fresh,” I teased, but nodded, hooking my purse over my shoulder. “But yeah, me too. I could do with some fresh air myself.”

  “Good,” he got to his feet, stretching and draining the last of his drink. There was a small bristling around us as the equilibrium of the place was broken for the first time in what felt like forever. It was odd, being in a place like this, because it felt like we existed outside of the world. In that last joint, the entire street outside had been able to see in, to watch as and observe us and take us in, but here it was just the two of us sequestered away in this little place, far from the prying eyes of the world and the press and the people who seemed enamoured with his celebrity.

  It was cool out, but not cold and the rain had left tiny puddles up and down the street. I kicked against one happily, feeling content and a little tipsy. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been on a date that had gone this well, not even when I was back in high school before Jacob was born. Everything was just so…easy. Yes, that was the word – easy. We weren’t even touching, but there was a sparking electricity between us, one that I hadn’t felt in years, and even then, this felt a lot more grown-up than how I’d felt with my high-school crushes.

  “I probably shouldn’t stay out too late,” Adam glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “I’ve got training tomorrow.”

  “Oh, you could probably not even turn up and they’d still be way up your ass about how great you are,” I teased. He laughed – he seemed to respond well to me busting his balls, and it was one of my specialties.

  “That’s what comes from being just too good at your job, I guess,” he stretched his arms above his head as he walked, his shirt riding up a few inches to show off a sliver of his hewn-from-marble abs. “What are you up to tomorrow?”

  “I’ve got to get this article in,” I shrugged. “And-”

  I was about to bring up Jacob, but I wasn't sure if it was the time yet. I hadn't dated anyone, really since he'd come along, and I had no idea how to approach the fact that I had a son, with this guy. I would leave that for later, one the lines between professional and personal had become a little less blurred to me.

  “What?” He prompted, and I shook my head.

  “Not important,” I waved a hand. “Just thinking out loud.”

  Suddenly, I glanced up and caught sight of the clock inside a bar we were walking past; it was already eleven, and I had promised myself that I would be home not much later. I felt a little skip of angst in my chest as I realized how far I was pushing this. I should probably have just gone home, made some excuses and left before anything happened, but existing in this bubble was too easy for me, too much fun. It had been a while since I had felt so satisfyingly disconnected from the world around me and I wanted to extend that just a little further, no matter how much I knew I should have been heading back to mine already.

  Adam reached over and took my hand and a sharp tick of excitement skipped through my chest. Was this really happening? I mean, I wasn’t going to get too invested quite yet – the research I had done on Adam had turned up plenty of articles regarding the models he’d dated over the years, the scores of actresses and fellow sports stars that had rolled in and out of his bed seemingly at random. Everyone knew what kind of reputation he had and I didn’t want to get invested if he was just going to up and dump me as soon as he got the chance, but still. It was nice to feel the strength of a man next to me once more. And hey, at least I could tell why all these women had thrown themselves at him over the years – he was smart, charming, and knew exactly what beats to hit to get my heart fluttering. Who could resist?

  There was a small bench overlooking a park on the opposite side of the street, and we quietly made our way over towards it and took a seat. Adam casually draped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close, and I rested myself against him. His body felt so good next to mine, as if we had been built to slot together like this. I slowly turned my head to face him, and he did the same, a smile breaking out across his face slowly as if something was dawning on him all at once.

  “What is it?” I asked, scanning his face for some kind of explanation, but he shook his head slightly.

  “Nothing,” he assured me. “You just look…you just look really gorgeous in this light.”

  And with that, he leaned in and kissed me.

  3

  As soon as our lips met, I melted. I knew it was cliché, but that's the only way I could describe what it did to me. It felt as though my breath had been pulled from my body a
ll at once, my skin lighting up and my muscles un-tensing against him. It was a soft kiss, but it soon turned into something more passionate, something with more intent. He lightly caught my bottom lip between his teeth, and then slipped his tongue into my mouth, catching the side of my face in his hand to tip it towards him. It had been so long since I had felt someone touch me like that that I was already reacting, my body responding to his touch hungrily and all at once. I let out a small moan despite myself, and he slipped his other hand between my closed thighs, brushing his thumb against that sensitive spot on the inside of my leg-

  And with that, I pulled away. It suddenly struck me that we were still out in public, and that anyone could have walked by and watched us making out like we were a couple of teenagers. With anyone else it wouldn’t have been that big a deal, but with a guy like him – yeah, someone might actually be interested in those pictures, and the thought of Jacob having to explain why his mother was making out with some megastar in the middle of the night made me want to cringe myself into nothingness. Adam looked down at me, still smiling, but eyebrows raised as though trying to figure out what the problem was.

  “Everything alright?” He asked gently, and I nodded. But I shifted a few inches away from him on the seat and put some distance between us, clutching my purse close to me as I did so.

  “I’m really sorry,” I shook my head. “I should probably get going. It’s late, and I have a bunch of shit to do tomorrow-”

  “No, of course,” he nodded, cocking an eyebrow and clearly doubting my story. “I’ll walk you to a taxi-”

  “I can get one myself, don’t worry,” I shot back, not realizing how defensive I would come across. He jerked back slightly, looking annoyed, but shook the expression from his face quickly and shrugged as though he couldn’t care less either way.