Player's Challenge Page 17

  “You never had a problem with any of my undershirts before. I’m down to only three because of you.” She stopped chewing and Devin went for the jugular. “You do remember don’t you? I’d just gotten out of the shower and we were headed for a latte run. I made it as far as the front door when you ripped it off me.”

  She set her fork down slowly. “Devin…it’s better to…um…” She started to squirm like a fish on a hook, and Devin smiled.

  “You can rip this one if you want. In fact, I’d lov—”

  “So what do you think of the deal?”

  “Yvonne, what a surprise.” Irritated, but not altogether surprised by the other woman’s arrival, Devin pulled a chair over. “I’m feeling rather special,” he said, patting the seat. “Two agents for the price of one.”

  “Well not exactly the price of one. I get my cut as well.”

  “We haven’t had a chance to get to the contract.” Looking sheepish, Gemma wiped her mouth with a napkin. “Feeding our faces.”

  “No harm there,” Yvonne eyed their plates. “I think I might order a bite as well…” Yvonne stopped in midsentence. Her attention suddenly drawn to his chest. “Is that a tattoo of a heart?” She leaned in closer.

  Used to the attention his ink garnered, Devin was unfazed by her invading his personal space. Gemma on the other hand looked well-nigh epileptic. Her hands clutched her knife and fork so tightly the knuckles were white. Just because he had to put their reconciliation on hold, he couldn’t have a little fun.

  “A heart and a key.”

  “The key to your heart?” He nodded and Yvonne’s mouth rounded into an O. “Can I see?”

  Smiling, Devin pulled the collar aside. Yvonne lifted her hand as if it would help her see the inscription better.

  Yvonne’s gaze narrowed. Her head tilted to the left, then right. “Does that say—”

  “Gemma,” he furnished. In the same breath, he felt suddenly free of an unseen burden.

  The namesake of his art leaned forward. “Gemma? Let me see.” Affecting an air of surprise, she fawned over the tattoo as well. “Gemma!” She giggled. “What are the chances?” She deserved a BAFTA for her performance.

  Irritated by her ability to turn the tables on him, keeping their secret intact, Devin released the collar of his shirt.

  Yvonne sat back, her gaze still on his now covered ink. “Yeah…what are the chances?” She blinked as if coming out of a trance. “So…what about that contract.”

  Crisis adverted, now in full business mode, Gemma set a piece of paper next to his plate. “Croydon didn’t match Edmonton’s deal, but we think you’ll be very pleased.”

  Resigned to another night spent beneath a cold shower, Devin scanned the terms. He was locked into five years at twenty-six million. “Ten million up front?”

  Gemma grinned and his balls tightened. “Another ten guaranteed, plus a pretty sweet incentive. A million bonus for thirty-eight clean sheets. Half a million for sixteen. A quarter of a million for eight. The payout doubles in the Champions league.”

  Devin’s eyebrows arched. The bonus was better than sweet. Shut out games were pretty common in football. And considering last’s season’s record eighteen, he could earn more than Edmonton’s initial offer.

  “You’re not exactly at thirty million, but if you put in some work you could earn much more than Edmonton’s offer.

  Devin picked up the paper and scanned the numbers again. This wasn’t sex with Gemma, but it was a great consolation. “Where and when do I sign?”

  With instructions to stand by for further news, Devin left his food untouched and a promise to keep his cell on. With him gone, Gemma felt empty and antsy. Suddenly thinking of a million things she could be doing besides bemoaning Devin’s absence, she gathered her things.

  “I’m heading back to the office.” She slung her purse over her shoulder, then stood.

  Yvonne stayed put. She’d ordered a crepe suzette and unlike Gemma, Devin’s departure had not stolen her appetite. “I’m switching teams,” she said, spearing a plump strawberry then popping it in her mouth.

  Gemma sat down. “Excuse me?”

  “I’m officially on Team Devin. Here’s your jersey back.” She held up her hands and opened them as if dropping a shirt in Gemma’s lap.

  “When did my love life become a competition?”

  “Someone has to cheer for your happiness.”

  Gemma bristled. “Not all of us need a man to be happy or feel complete.”

  “That’s true but why turn your back on love?”

  “Love…love?” Gemma sputtered. “Who says Devin loves me?”

  “A permanent tribute imprinted into his skin.”

  “A tattoo applied during a rowdy weekend in Amsterdam,” Gemma corrected, dispelling Yvonne’s romantic delusions and hopefully hers as well. Seeing the tattoo again, brought back memories. Sushi runs. Late nights watching horror movies. Lazy afternoons making love.

  “He probably has a tramp stamp dedicated to some bloke named Boris.”

  “Does he?”

  “No. I’m lying,” Gemma grumbled. She hated she missed him more than she cared to admit.

  “I’m not going to beat a dead horse, but I’m going to put this out there so you don’t think I’m stabbing you in the back or something equally as paranoid. I’m rooting against you. I’m cheering on the hot jock to win your heart. I’m on the sidelines shouting for you to wake up and realize you can have it all, including a man.”

  Usually quick on her toes, with a ready retort or tart witticism, Gemma opened her mouth, then closed it. How can I respond when I’m secretly betting against me too?

  At a loss for words, Gemma stood. Before she left, she grabbed her flowers.

  Amy Winehouse’s soulful voice spilled from the ceiling, mixed with laughter, artificial conversations and the clink of ever flowing champagne glasses. People wasting stupid money, wearing designer labels, and having a fabulous time flowed around her.

  How was it possible to be in a room filled with people and feel utterly alone?

  Maybe she felt this way due to the steady stream of people fawning over Devin. He was the man of the hour, heck the bloody decade. Earlier in the day, he’d signed the biggest contract of his career, making him one of the highest paid players in the EPL. In celebration, the firm was hosting a celebratory party at The Waterloo, one of the hippest nightclubs in the West End.

  She should be happy. Burning up the dance floor with Stu. Not sitting in a corner in VIP nursing a champagne spritzer. She’d just earned herself a lovely paycheck, and solidified her reputation in the industry. She was ticking off her life goals one by one, and ahead of schedule. If she stayed on track, she’d own her own firm by the time she was thirty-five. Maybe motherhood would follow.

  Of their own accord, her eyes wandered to Devin. Her gaze slid over him. He wore a graphite gray suit with a black dress shirt, no tie. The overall effect was a rakish sophistication and so damn sexy. Gemma slurped in a calming breath. Would she ever get over being dazzled by him?

  She wasn’t alone. Women had been swarming around him all night, offering their congratulations, vying for his attention. A particularly aggressive brunette in a silver, sequined mini dress and matching stilettos couldn’t get enough of him. With a body that didn’t quit, she chatted him up constantly. And when he was drawn into conversation with someone else, she hovered nearby. She even replenished his champagne.

  A stab of jealousy made Gemma stiffen. Had they come together? Unfortunately, she had no clue since she and Devin had arrived separately. As if studying their interaction could provide clues, she glared at the pair.

  Somehow sensing the daggers shooting in his side, Devin’s head snapped around. Not quick enough, Gemma was caught like a fox in headlights. He stared at her, his charismatic boyish grin curling his lips, igniting a plethora of shared memories and suppressed emotions.

  “Still holdin’ up the wall?”

  Gemma jumped. Lost i
n her thoughts and Devin, she didn’t hear Stu sidle up beside her.

  “I’m partying,” she fibbed, holding up her glass and shimmying her hips. Eyes still on Devin, she observed his body language. From the set of his shoulders, hands shoved in his pockets, the dissolution of his smile, he wasn’t feeling her choice of company. The feeling was mutual. Maybe, just maybe she could one up him.

  Without considering the consequences and ignoring how in poor form her idea was, she pivoted toward Stu. She pushed to her tip toes, at the same time she slid her arms over his broad shoulders.

  “Are you daft?”

  “Shut up and pucker up.” She closed her eyes, shutting out the way his widened. Head tilted, she pressed closer.

  Stu grabbed her arms then set her so far away from him, she wobbled.

  “Wh-what are you doing?” she sputtered.

  “Preventing you from making the biggest mistake of yer life an’ not ruining mine.”

  “You sound like our hooking up would be awful.” Gemma retorted, feeling the bite of rejection.

  “It would,” Stu insisted. His Irish brogue thick with emotion. “Yer in luv wit someone else.”

  “I am no—”

  Stu latched onto her arm. With her in tow, he shouldered his way through the crowd. It didn’t take a genius to realize where he was headed.

  “Excuse me…”

  Heart racing, Gemma dug in her heels.

  “Pardon me…”

  She tugged on her arm.

  “Do you mind mate…”

  Her efforts proved useless. All too soon she was face to face with Devin. As he stood there, his monochrome attire emphasizing his amazing green eyes, his jacket open and his hands shoved into his trouser pockets, the sight of him was like bashing into a wall. She tried to ignore her acute awareness of him. It was impossible. He’d have to leave the building to dispel this uncontrollable response to him.

  Gemma shifted her feet restlessly, and he shot her a hard glance. She tried reading him as his gaze traveled downward to focus on Stu’s hand on her wrist, but his expression remained staunchly impassive.

  “Wirth,” he grunted, the vibration of his voice flowed over Gemma like a rush of warm water.

  “Lucky bastard.” Stu released her, then without a much needed apology or even a goodbye, he disappeared in the crowd.

  With her escort in the wind, Devin turned to her, a ghost of a smile softening his sinful mouth.

  The familiar electricity crackled between them. The pull inexplicable, they stepped toward each other. Even with the benefit of three inch heels, she still had to crane her neck back.

  “Having fun?”

  “Absolutely miserable. And you?” she asked, nodding her head at the brunette.

  “In the same boat. Your place in an hour?”

  Gemma nodded.

  ***

  Her heels in one hand, her clutch in the other, Gemma raced up the walkway to her townhouse. “I’m home,” she shouted, unlocking the security system. Like open sesame, the deadbolt disengaged. She’d made great time. If she hurried, she could take a quick shower before Devin showed up.

  She had one foot on the stairs when she heard the sound of a car door closing. She’d sneaked out the club’s back entrance and only just arrived. There was no way he could’ve disengaged himself from hundreds of sycophants and media, then driven across town that fast. Gemma opened the door and peeked out. A shadowy figure was crossing the square. Head down and shoulders hunched.

  Heart pounding, she glanced at the closed gate. Once shut, the door automatically locked on the inside. One would have to manually open it with a key or use the switch on the alarm box by the front door.

  Devin stepped onto the sidewalk. The soft glow of a street lamp bathed him in ember light. His suit no worse for wear, his hair was askew as if he’d run his hands through it, he looked so damn fine a tremendous yearning swept over her. Wanting him with a ferocity she’d never felt before, she put one foot in front of the other until they stood on opposite sides of the gate.

  “How did you get here so quick?”

  He folded his arms around the gate railing and smiled. “Your boss. She hustled me through the service entrance. The cat’s out the bag by the way.”

  “She’s known about us for weeks.”

  He did not look amused. “How long?”

  “She caught on the night we had dinner at The Wake. She confronted me in Algiers. I confessed and she fired me. I came back to the apartment to tell you the good news.”

  “And I’d gone behind your back with Grayson.”

  “Then you had the nerve to manipulate me into working with you again,” she added.

  Like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar, he looked down bashfully. “You should add intentionally tarnishing my image and flunking my classes to my transgressions.”

  Wait a minute. “What was that about your classes?”

  He ran his index finger along his jaw, and Gemma braced herself. She had a feeling this was going to be a doozy.

  “When I signed on with Top Flight for representation, that wasn’t the first time I’d set things up so I could get close to you.”

  “Go on.”

  He peeked at her. “I purposely slacked off on my schoolwork so I could be placed in the tutor-peer program.”

  “So you’re not a dumb jock?” Gemma couldn’t resist.

  Devin’s green eyes glittered with amusement. “I was well on my way to earning my A-Levels before you walked into my life.”

  Gemma’s mouth fell open. He’d almost ruined his life not once, but twice. “Are you daft?”

  “I knew the minute I laid eyes on you, you were the one. Other girls just faded in the background when you were around. I wanted to be in your world, that tiny bubble you used to shut everyone out.”

  Gemma winced. “I was pretty good at that wasn’t I?”

  “You still are that’s why I’m not going to let you escape inside it, again.”

  Gemma blinked back tears. He knew her better than her own family. “You’re a piece of work.”

  “I’ve been a royal jerk. I’ve disappointed you. I can’t say I won’t ever do it again, after all I’m human. But I’ll do my best to be good to you.”

  Gemma started to tremble. “Where are you going with this Devin?”

  “From the moment I laid eyes on you, I’ve been in love with you, Gemma Clarke. I still am. Will you marry me?”

  Speechless, Gemma stared at him.

  “Did you hear me? I love you and want to marry you.”

  Still, Gemma struggled for words. She’d dreamed about this moment for so long, she couldn’t quite believe it and she didn’t want to spoil the moment.

  “Are you just going to leave me hanging?” He clutched the gate and rattled it, pulling Gemma out of a stupor.

  As if in a daze, she turned about and walked back to the house. She felt her hand along the wall and pushed the button to the front gate. A second later, she found herself pressed against the wall in her foyer, Devin’s body covering hers.

  She tweaked his arm so hard he yelped.

  “Don’t ever set me up again.”

  “I promise, I will never do it again,” eyes glittering, he fingered the area above his elbow, “if you say you’ll marry me.”

  “You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Spencer,” she whispered, overcome with emotion. “I love you too, and yes, I’ll marry you.”

  He hauled her into him and kissed her hard as if his life depended on it.

  Epilogue

  Sixteen months later

  He got the girl.

  And now she was having their baby.

  Devin handed Gemma a cup filled with ice chips. With her long hair plastered against her sweaty brow, lips dry and cracked and wearing a soiled hospital gown, she couldn’t be more beautiful.

  “We’re never having sex again,” she snarled, ripping the pink plastic cup out of his hand. “Bloody hell! I feel like I’m having to pu
sh out a bowling ball.”

  She wasn’t exaggerating because all her pregnancy weight was centered in her belly. Still, the extra pounds hadn’t kept Devin from bending her over and taking her last night. Even in her ninth month of pregnancy, and with enormous changes to her body, from swollen feet and ankles to the most hideous gas, his desire for his wife hadn’t diminished.

  Her brown gaze locked with his. “Did I tell you we’re never having sex again?”

  “Yes, babe,” Devin replied nonplussed. Despite her unwieldy frame and occasional discomforts, she never turned him away. In fact, it was she who’d climbed on top of him last night claiming she had an itch needing to be scratched.

  “How’s our patient?” Dr. Freddy Patel beamed as he entered their private suite. Sparing no expense, Devin had procured a room in the coveted Lindo Wing of St. Mary’s Hospital. If the facility was good enough for the royals, it was good enough for his family.

  “I feel like crap.” Gemma crunched down on a mouth full of ice. “My back is killing me. I need to do number two. And this bloke,” she shoved her thumb in Devin’s direction, “keeps patronizing me.”

  “Let’s have a look at your chart.” Dr. Patel picked up the clipboard. “Says here you’re already eight centimeters.” He paused to glance at his watch. “And that was two hours ago.”

  The doctor replaced the chart. “Let’s have a quick look, shall we.” Dr. Patel walked over to the room’s nurse’s station, and pulled on a pair of latex gloves. Devin tensed. The last time the nurse examined Gemma, she’d wailed like two cats going at it and not in a good way.

  Gemma grimaced when Dr. Patel lifted the sheet. She inhaled and exhaled in rapid succession.

  “Owww…it hurts. I need drugs.”

  Feeling powerless, Devin scooted to the edge of his seat and took her hand in his. She squeezed his fingers so hard he almost thought she’d broken a joint or two. Still, he didn’t let go. He’d made a vow he never would.