by Celia Wild
Just as quickly as it started, it ended.
Chance pulled back to stare down at her with an indescribable expression before letting her go. He gave a sharp nod.
“I’ll see you at the hotel later,” he said.
A swarm of cameras quickly enveloped Chance as he disappeared into a sea of people. Arabella quickly made her way off the field before she could get cornered by anyone. She had no idea of what Chance said was true about wanting to kiss her. Chance was a womanizer, and he had great charisma and charm. It was part of the reason no one ever complained about his behavior for a long time.
Her confusion only mounted when Chance arrived at her hotel room around 3:30pm dressed down in a pair dark blue sweat pants and a plain grey t-shirt.
“I know Robert said we need to go out,” he said, “but I’m tired of the cameras and all the publicity shit.”
“Okay. So, what do you want to do then?”
“How about visiting some stores or something?” He offered, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his sweat pants. “There’s a place here that sells amazing coffee too if you like coffee.”
“I like coffee,” Arabella said. “Are you sure about this? Robert is going to give us an earful.”
Chance scowled. “I don’t care right now. I’m tired of the media attention. I’m not adding more to it tonight. Are you with me or not?”
She hesitated for a moment. Going off script meant repercussions from Robert, but staring into Chance’s tired eyes, she knew he felt the same way she did about this weekend.
“Give me a minute to change.”
Opting for a pair of comfortable leggings and a destroyed tank top for their stroll, Arabella carefully hung up the black dress she had brought for their date tonight. She tossed her high heels back into her suitcase with a relieved sigh before slipping into her sandals.
“Much better,” Chance said, nodding in approval. “You’d draw attention to us if you were walking around in a dress and heels for no reason.”
Arabella smiled. “I hate heels anyway. They kill my feet by the end of the night.”
They spent the next few hours browsing through various stores.
Arabella found time slipping by them surprisingly fast and pleasant as they chatted about whatever came to mind. This was the side of Chance that she liked the most, she thought. The calm and relaxed Chance that didn’t feel the need to put up a front for everyone.
They ordered coffee at a corner coffee shop near Central Park. True to Chance’s words, it was delicious and smooth. Arabella found herself perking up with the much needed caffeine boost as they walked in comfortable silence under the trees.
“I have to ask a question,” Chance said, sipping at his coffee with a pleased sigh.
Arabella cradled her own cup. “What’s that?”
“How did someone like you end up working for Robert?”
“Someone like me?” She gave him a confused frown. “Do I not look like the type that should be working as an assistant.”
“No, to be honest,” he replied. “I think you look like the type of woman who wants to own a library or something like that. You aren’t a sports fan. I caught your bored expression several times this morning.”
She laughed.
“You’re right, I’m not, and I was bored. I’m an English major, so my house is full of books, but my parents know Robert and Coach Adams on a very personal level. When I graduated college, Robert offered me a job as one of his assistants to edit his speeches, letters, etc.”
“That makes much more sense,” Chance said.
They paused to sit down on one of the benches near a bush filled with blooming flowers.
“What about you?” Arabella asked, curiously. “Where did you come from before being drafted two years ago?”
“Notre Dame,” he responded. “I was the quarterback there for three years on a full ride scholarship. I picked some bullshit major because I didn’t want to do anything else besides play football. I knew that even in middle school that I was going to be a professional football player. My dad never once questioned it either.”
“That’s true passion there if you knew what you wanted to do at middle school,” she said. Hesitating for a moment, she asked, “Where are your parents if you don’t mind me asking? I never see them with you.”
Chance shrugged his shoulders. “My dad’s here in New York, but he’s gone for a business trip this weekend. He’s a stockbroker on Wall Street. My mom died of cancer when I was a kid.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“It’s fine. It happened a long time ago, so I’ve had plenty of time to get over it.” He turned to look at her intently. “What about your parents?”
“They live twenty minutes outside of Philadelphia on a farm,” Arabella said. “My dad comes from a rich line of an oil family, but he invested all of his money into several small start up companies that have boomed since then. My mom, you know, is a mom. She’s the type of housewife you see on Home and Garden magazines. That’s how our house looked my entire childhood.”
“And do they know about what’s going on?”
Arabella blinked in surprise at the question. “They do,” she said, slowly. “Is that a problem?”
“No,” Chance replied, looking at her strangely. “Why would it be?”
“I guess I don’t understand why you asked that question.”
“Because I was just curious what they think about it is all,” he said. “You seem like you come from the same type of family that I do. Money talks, and so does reputations.”
“I agree,” Arabella replied, not sure of where the conversation was leading to. “My parents encouraged me to do this for other reasons. Not reputations or money. Is your dad like that or something?”
“He’s been that way since I can remember,” Chance said, a trace of bitterness noticeable in his voice. “It made me who I am today, no doubt, but my dad is always the one telling me that winning is everything. I think it sorta of fucked me up in the process because I think winning is scoring women too.”
Arabella picked anxiously at her coffee cup. The last thing she ever expected out of being forced into a fake relationship for cameras was Chance’s honesty. She had a gut feeling though that Chance never had the opportunity to genuinely talk to people without it dealing with football, money, or the fame.
She cleared her throat, and squared her shoulders for an honest answer to a question in the back of her mind.
“Are you trying to score with me?”
Chance’s stare didn’t waver from her own. It only darkened in intensity, and he reached out to cup her cheek in his hand.
“Yes and no,” he said.
Her heart started to race again when Chance leant in to close the gap between them.
“That doesn’t make any sense,” she said, breathlessly.
“It’s not supposed to.”
He kissed her deeply. And not the type of kisses they had exchanged for. This kiss made Arabella’s heart pound furiously while her stomach flipped. It wasn’t a mad or lustful kiss. It was a kiss that just wanted her lips on his own for the hell of it.
***
Chapter Seven
Chance
“I turned the news on today to see that you have a new girlfriend.”
Chance rolled his eyes at his father’s critical tone. He knew that the news would eventually get his father’s attention, but he didn’t think that he’d actually believe any of it.
“It’s just a publicity relationship,” he said.
“Have you seen the latest pictures?” Nathan asked. “It doesn’t appear to be a publicity stunt to me. And I’m your father. I know when you’re lying.”
He groaned inwardly. Someone had apparently found them in Central Park and taken the opportunity to photograph them. A stab of indignant anger went through him. That day in the park hadn’t been a publicity stunt. It was real, and it was honest, and it scared the hell out of him how much he
had felt for Arabella that day.
“There’s pictures of us in Central Park?”
“Yes,” Nathan replied, impatiently. “Have you not been following the news at all, son?”
“Apparently not,” he replied.
Nathan sighed into the phone in exasperation. “You’re telling me that Robert has you in some sort of fake relationship to appease fans and the media?”
“That’s what I’m telling you,” Chance said. “He thought that having the illusion of a girlfriend through the season would save my image a bit.”
“I’m all for reputations as you know, but you aren’t on your way of being MVP because of your image. You’re on your way because you can play some damn good football.”
Annoyance filtered through the headache already pounding in Chance’s head. The last thing he wanted to do on a Friday night was listening to his father’s high opinions on life. He loved his father more than anything, but there was times his attitude was just too much. And when it came to being an NFL star, Nathan Lawrence had pushed his son long and hard into the position because it brought a successful light to their family. Failure was not a word in their conversations. Money, women, and being well known were.
“What are you wanting me to do?” Chance bit out, harsher than he intended. “I took the deal that I had. I wasn’t in the position to bargain.”
“You should’ve called me,” Nathan replied, just as harshly. “We’re close to you becoming NFL’s greatest rising stars. A woman will only get in the way of that dream. Think about it.”
He hung up before Chance could even formulate a reply. Grief had made his father’s heart cold and heart. After his mom passed away from cancer, there was never a day that Chance could recall his dad ever looking at a woman with love and affection. While money was never a question, his father pushed him beyond and past limits that most parents wouldn’t push their child past.
It made him unafraid of anything.
Chance scrolled through the list of numbers in his phone. He didn’t care if Robert would fire his ass over finding a woman to release some tension. He just needed something.
Arabella’s name came up on the top of the list. His thumb hovered her name for a moment, debating whether if he wanted to talk. There was an air about Arabella that made him instantly comfortable and at ease. The weekend at New York had proved that much that maybe this publicity stunt wasn’t such a bad thing. At least Arabella didn’t call his phone excessively, or cling to him.
She answered on the fourth ring. “Hello?”
“Hey,” he said, sitting up straight in his chair. “It’s Chance.”
“Chance? Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine. I was wondering if you’re free right now.”
Silence.
“I guess not,” Arabella said, slowly. “Why? Is Robert wanting us to go do something?”
“No. He’s happy with our impromptu walk. I’ll be over in ten minutes.”
Ten minutes later, Arabella opened the door when he knocked. All the blood in his head rushed to his lower body part at the sight of Arabella in loose sweat pants and a tank top. Her long blonde hair was loose about her shoulders, and the sweet smell of vanilla filled his nose.
It took all of Chance’s self-restraint to not surge forward and kiss her senseless.
“This is also impromptu,” Arabella said, wryly.
Chance glanced inside the living room. He spotted two wine glasses on the living room table, and something rose in him fiercely. “Do you have company?”
“I did,” she replied, taking a step back to allow him entrance. “Lindsey just left to go meet up with Liam.”
“Liam and Lindsey are hooking up now?”
Arabella gave a positive nod.
He had been so busy with doing what Robert asked him to do, and then practicing for games that he hadn’t even noticed Liam hanging around Lindsey.
“Well, yes,” Arabella said, leading him over to the couch. “I guess Lindsey is pushing for more, but you know that Liam isn’t interested in relationships.”
“He isn’t,” Chance said. “I’m kinda of surprised actually. He doesn’t like Lindsey.”
“That’s nice, but I know how Lindsey is.”
They shared a smile as Arabella curled up on the couch with a pillow in her lap.
“So, what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?” She asked.
Chance found his eyes wandering to the swell of Arabella’s breast above the hemline of her tank top. He didn’t want to talk about the conversation with his father.
“Just a boring night,” he said.
“That’s it?” She arched an eyebrow at him. “I don’t know if I believe that. You don’t come over to my house just because you’re bored.”
He never went to a woman’s house just because he was bored. It was usually for other reasons.
“You’re right,” Chance said.
Arabella smiled at him. “I can read you better than you think.”
And that was an unnerving thought, but he wasn’t in the mood to think about it. The blood in Chance’s veins was boiling hot from how uncomfortable he was. He didn’t care then if Arabella told him that nothing would ever happen between them. She did kiss him back the last two times, the last time in Central Park without realizing that cameras were around.
He took in her inviting lips curled up in a smile, and wanted nothing more than to nibble on them.
“Let’s put that to the test then,” Chance said, huskily. “What am I thinking now?”
Arabella’s eyes widened at the question, undoubtedly picking up the passionate undertone in his voice. She hugged the pillow close to her body when Chance scooted boldly across the couch to place a hand on her knee.
“I-I-I don’t know,” she stammered out.
The look on Arabella’s face was absolutely priceless. Her eyes were wide with a deer in the head light look, and something else that Chance couldn’t quite decipher. Desire? Fear? Hell, he didn’t care. He just wanted to kiss her.
“Let me give you a hint then.”
Chance leaned forward to mold Arabella’s lips beneath his own. She resisted beneath him for a split second before giving in with a small little moan.
His heart soared to an alarming pace, and unlike the other times they had kissed, he let the unchecked and buried passion come forward. Weeks of not having a woman’s touch or kiss bubbled in his veins. Arabella’s hands were rubbing at his shoulders, the back of his neck, and the pillow in her lap fell to the ground.
Not caring that this was most likely crossing the line, Chance pushed forward until Arabella laid back on the couch pillows before draping himself over her. When no resistance came, he finally allowed himself a touch of skin beneath the hemline of Arabella’s tank top. Soft skin over taut muscles greeted his fingertips. Every inch of her waist, hips, and ribcage felt wickedly good.
His hand inched up boldly to the hemline of a sports bra.
“Chance—” Arabella started with a gasp, one hand curling around that wrist urgently. “We have to stop.”
Frustration tore at him.
“Why?” He demanded, looking down at her hotly. “You were kissing me back. Why do we have to stop?”
“Because we barely know each other,” Arabella said, chest heaving. “I told you that it wouldn’t happen like that.”
Chance let out a frustrated growl before pushing himself up to the other side of the couch.
“People have sex with each other all the time on a casual basis,” he said.
“Well, I don’t,” Arabella said, sitting up to fix him with a firm stare.
“What’s really wrong with you?”
“Nothing,” he said, shortly.
“I don’t think so. You came over here in a dark mood.” She shook her head at him, long blonde tresses of hair shimmering at the movement. “I’m not going to be your escape from whatever is eating at you. I’m not stupid. I know that you sleep with a whole bunch of w
omen for a reason.”
How did someone who barely knew him for a few weeks already knew him so well? His father’s voice echoed in his mind. Women just get in the way. And a woman like Arabella would get in the way.
“I guess you’ll have to find out,” Chance said, rising from the couch. “I have to go. I’m sorry for bothering you.”
“Chance.”
A soft hand curled around his wrist. Tensing under the gentle touch, Chance turned to look around at Arabella.