Play On

by Samantha Young

  “How long have you been in Edinburgh, Joss?”

  I glanced down the bar to make sure Jeb was back and dealing with the customer who was waiting. I looked back at Travis. “Twelve years.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Twelve years and you’ve still got your accent?”

  It was true I hadn’t picked up any Scottish brogue living here. I think it was because I didn’t spend nearly enough time around Scots unless I was working. And even then, we got an eclectic group of accents coming through Club 39.

  “I guess not.”

  “I’m here with the U.S. soccer team. I leave tomorrow.” His eyes drifted over me, blatantly sexual. “I can’t believe I’ve been here all week and I’ve only just met you.”

  A snort escaped me before I could stop myself. “Really? Does that work for you normally?”

  Travis grinned, unabashed. “Usually.”

  “Maybe it’s the accent. That drawl probably has them panting for you over here.”

  “I’m not going to lie—it definitely does.” He crossed his arms on the bar and leaned toward me so we were almost touching. “Is it working for you at all?”

  I considered the handsome American. If I were a soccer fan, I’d probably be wetting my pants about now. And he was heading home tomorrow. Famous soccer player and heading home to America. Those things made me feel pretty certain he wasn’t going to turn into a scary stalker.

  At midnight I was turning thirty years old.

  Did I want to do that alone?

  Surely that would epitomize my fears and everything I had to look forward to in the coming years.

  Maybe I should fight that idea. Push my crippling issues aside for one night and have sex with this handsome soccer player to prove that I could change my life!

  Before I could really think about it, I blurted out, “Do you want some company your last night in the windy city?”

  Travis’s green eyes burned with anticipation. “I would love that.” He reached for a napkin on the bar and leaned over to take the little pencil I had tucked behind my ear. After he’d written on the napkin, he handed both back to me. “My hotel and room number. Stop by when you get off work.”

  What the hell was I doing?

  “Great.” I gave him a saucy smirk. He laughed.

  “Looking forward to it, Joss.”

  “See you in a little while, Travis.”

  He walked away, joining a group of men who I guessed were teammates. As they were leaving, Travis threw me a smoldering look that should’ve burst my underwear into flames.

  Don’t get me wrong, I tingled a little.

  I think if my head weren’t so messed up, however, there would’ve been a lot more tingling.

  I hated how the mind could mess with the body.

  For the rest of the shift I worked in a daze, wondering what the hell I’d been thinking arranging to meet a man at his hotel room after talking to him for … oh, three seconds.

  I glanced down at the napkin in my hand. He was staying in a fancy-ass hotel.

  So!

  Serial killers could stay in fancy-ass hotels.

  He’s not a serial killer.

  What was my problem? I’d gone back to strange men’s apartments.

  That doesn’t make it any better.

  Shouldn’t turning thirty bring with it some maturity and common sense?

  “You sure you’re okay?” Jeb appeared at my side. He put his hand on my lower back and I tensed. “Su let it slip you’re turning thirty at midnight. That must be rubbish … working and turning thirty. Not having a boyfriend.”

  I tried to make him spontaneously combust by mind power alone.

  Unfortunately, Jeb wasn’t good at reading a situation. Instead he leaned in closer. “I usually don’t dip my wick into anything older than twenty-five but you’re fit, Joss, and you’ve got great tits. If you want, I’ll sleep with you tonight?”

  Did he …

  Was I …

  Did he just offer me a pity fuck?

  Did a nineteen-year-old boy just offer me a pity fuck?

  I shuddered and shoved him away. “Ugh, Jeb, you’re a baby. Fuck. Fuck!” I made a face of revulsion and strode away from him before I decided to knee him in the balls.

  I was so going to meet yummy soccer man for some sex, if only to cleanse myself of what had just happened.

  “What the hell were you thinking?” I hissed at myself as I stood outside Room 343 at 1:30 a.m.

  After what Jeb had said to me, I left him to clean up the bar after closing.

  Idiot child.

  Although now, I was seriously regretting my impulsive decision to come to the hotel to have sex with Travis.

  Yes, I was afraid of turning thirty and being alone, something I never thought I’d feel. But wasn’t another one-night stand the exact opposite of what my heart was telling me I wanted?

  You don’t know what you want.

  Shit.

  Feeling suddenly cold—and yes, I admit it, scared—I wrapped my arms around my waist and backed away from the door. I couldn’t go in there. Maybe I was finally growing up because the idea of having sex with a stranger didn’t appeal to me. My body wouldn’t react. At least not in a sexy way.

  Decision made, I hurried down the hotel corridor on light feet, breathing a sigh of relief when I stepped into the elevator.

  I was exhausted, and ready to sleep away my worries.

  To my irritation, the elevator stopped on a ballroom floor. Oh God, please don’t let there be a function going on that involves the soccer team.

  That would be just my luck.

  Holding my breath, I waited as the elevator dinged as the doors opened. Only one man stood on the other side. A very tall, rugged-as-hell man staring wearily at the floor.

  As he stepped inside the elevator, a strange current of electricity zipped down my spine, and all of a sudden I wasn’t exhausted anymore. He was so big, his powerful shoulders stretched the beautiful fabric of his expensive tuxedo as he moved. I felt overwhelmed by him as he filled the space.

  I peeked over at him where he leaned against the side of the elevator and ran a hand through his hair. He had a sharp jawline, a cleft chin, wide cheekbones, and a roman nose. Dark stubble shadowed his cheeks and his hair was kind of messy, even before he put his fingers through it. Altogether, his rugged unkemptness seemed at odds with the stylish tuxedo.

  And then he lifted his gaze to me; as I froze, he seemed to also.

  He had startling pale blue eyes framed by long dark lashes.

  He wasn’t classically handsome, but those eyes … gorgeous.

  Eyes that instantly sharpened with interest as they moved down my body, lingered over my breasts and legs, before traveling back up to my face.

  I felt like all the air had been sucked out of me, and the only way to get the oxygen back was via this man.

  Oh boy.

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