Team Lucas (The Saints Team #1) (3 page)

“Ah yes, we’ve all met Luke’s minders but you are one of the most attractive yet.” He smiled and carried the bags in.

Sigh, charming man, he was my favorite already.

“Please, place them anywhere,” I said, but I noticed he walked straight into the main bedroom and put them down... like he knew the way... hmm.

“Thank you,” I said, when he came out. “I’d offer you a drink but I haven’t bought anything yet.”

“Luke will have filled the fridge for you.” He strode into the kitchen and opened it. I’ve never seen so much bottled water and fruit in my life. Did he think I was a fruit bat?

“See?” He turned to look at me. “He always does that.”

“So, just how many minders has Lucas had?” I asked, leaning against the kitchen bench.

“Ah, poor Luke. Let’s see—two men who didn’t last long, then there was Mrs. Compton who was in her sixties and tough, very tough, like a prison warden, but he got the better of her. Then he had a very attractive minder but she was scared of him, but hey, good luck.”

I suspect Nik knew that very attractive minder rather well given his knowledge of the guest suite.

“Well thanks, I appreciate...” I stopped mid-sentence on hearing a loud yell at my new front door. I winced and turned around.

Lucas filled the doorway looking every bit the model in a dark suit, crisp white business shirt opened at the neck and highly-polished black shoes. He was breathtaking in a suit. His light brown hair flopped over his forehead and his blue eyes glared at me as if I was the enemy.

“Hello Minder.” He smirked.

“Mia,” I reminded him. I crossed my arms across my chest. “But if you insist on calling me Minder, I’ll choose a new name for you, Lupus, I mean Lucas.”

I didn’t think he’d be able to look any more sour, but being called after a skin disease seemed to achieve that.

Nik stepped around from the kitchen.

“Hey Luke,” he greeted him.

“Hey Nik, I thought that was your car,” Lucas’s face lit up.

“Nice suit. From the shoot?” Nik asked.

“Yeah, they gave me this one. Coming in?”

“On my way, just helping Mia move in,” he said with a smile in my direction. He managed to remember my name. “Coming over for a coffee?” He was inviting me to Lucas’s place! Oh, so polite. I looked at Lucas who looked far from pleased by the invitation and I mustered a prize smug look for him.

I returned my gaze to Nik. “Thank you, Nik,” I said sweetly, “but I’m off for a run.” I turned back to Lucas. “And on my return I need to see you for just five minutes.”

“Swab time,” Nik piped up. Nothing was sacred.

“Whatever.” Lucas turned to leave. Nik gave me a look that reminded me he knew where the bedroom was and I waved as I watched him go.

Yep, the scenery here was fantastic and the ocean views weren’t bad either.

Chapter 5

I ran for thirty minutes and thought about life which I often did when running. When did Lucas become such a prat or was he always a prat? Before moving in, I did some online research on him; he’d gone to a prestigious British primary school, then boarded at one of the best private middle and high schools in the US, before winning a US soccer scholarship to a swanky college, where no doubt he ponced around with his upper class accent. Then he got signed to a European team, and within two years was commanding top dollars and got World Cup placement. Then he came back here, signed a huge contract with the Saints, picked up the captaincy and of course all the sponsorship endorsements. His stats were pretty impressive too—he owned the field; the guy could play.

In the space of a few years he’d become a huge name worth millions, adored by many, and his very British businessman father and homemaker mother were left behind somewhere in the wake, trying to keep some realism in his life. Meanwhile Mr. Party-hard was living it up, sexing it up by the look of the women hanging off his arm in some of the photos and snorting it up. Yep, it was going to be a real treat and I would earn every cent over the next few weeks. Still, it was good for my career and the bonuses would pay my car off if I could score them.

When I got back, Nik and his 4WD were gone. I went to my room, sniffed under my arms and decided I wouldn’t offend and grabbed my testing kit. Let’s get this over with. I went around to the front door rather than the adjoining door and tapped lightly. The door swung open and Lucas stood there in his jeans with no shirt on. I forgot to look at his face for a moment then waved my kit at him. He stepped aside and let me in. I followed him up the stairs—yes, thank you God for that marvelous piece of ass work in front of me. I moved to the kitchen bench, put my swab kit down and opened it.

“Want to lock this in for a set time each day?” he asked.

“Nope,” I answered.

He put his hands on his hips and glared at me. “Oh that’s right, wouldn’t want me to trick the system.”

I nodded. He could get testy about it all he liked but that was pretty much it. I’ve had patients who’ll store someone else’s urine in the bathroom and replace it or work around my testing schedule knowing how long they’ve got to come down or get high for that matter, even though most tests could read a couple of days’ usage. Not Lukey, not on my watch—I was going to keep him on his toes.

“I’m not going to test you the same way every time either,” I warned him.

He dropped his eyes and looked away, reining in his anger.

“It’s not personal,” I told him.

“Yeah? How many times have you opened your mouth, pissed in a cup or given blood to someone? Trust me, it’s personal,” he said.

I studied him and overstepped my boundaries, but he was hardly considerate of my feelings or role. “Gee Lucas, it’s like you have it all and the people close to you don’t want you to blow it. Is that such a bad thing?”

“Thanks Dr. Phil, just get it over with,” he snapped.

I was planning on doing saliva and urine tests on him, but every now and then I’d get a blood sample—it was more intrusive but the most accurate and I didn’t want to slip up, especially when the fallout could be so public.

I exhaled and told him to sit. He lowered himself on a stool next to the kitchen counter. It was only way I could reach his mouth without standing on my toes.

“What are you testing for?” he asked as I pulled out a swab.

“Just the usuals,” I assured him. “Marijuana, cocaine, crack, heroin, ecstasy, a range of barbiturates, my friend methadone.” I shrugged. He almost smiled but stopped himself. Phew, that was close.

“You know I’m allowed to drink?” he said.

“In moderation and preferably not during the season.” I repeated the words on my brief. “Your coach has emailed me the alcohol block out dates.”

“Fucking great,” he said and made a grunting noise. He folded his arms across his naked chest.

“Saliva test today,” I told him and pulled out a swab that looked like a toothbrush but with a pad at the end instead of bristles. Lucas was no stranger to it.

“Have you had anything in your mouth in the last ten minutes?” I asked.

“Like pussy,” he said trying to shock me and take some control.

I winced. “Yes, like that. Or food, drink, gum, a cigarette?”

He shook his head.

I pulled the tester out of the foil and stoo
d by his leg. Sitting down his face was at the same level as mine and I could read he was uncomfortable. Good, welcome to my world.

“Open, please,” I said.

He hesitated for just a moment then opened his mouth and looked away from me. I could almost swear that Lucas was embarrassed. I swept the inside of his mouth, across the inside of his cheek, gums and over his tongue being careful not to gag him. Not once did he make eye contact with me. He glared at the wall as though he was going to pummel it.

I left the swab in his mouth for a minute—I didn’t instruct him to leave it there, he knew the drill. I avoided looking at him while we waited; no need to shame him any more than necessary, although I could have gotten one up on him for being an asshole. He fidgeted and swallowed, not looking at me either.

I glanced up every few seconds until the color marker appeared and then I pulled it from his mouth.

He rose and walked away. I heard his bedroom door slam. I stuck his swab into my screening device, locking it in place and took off to my own wing of the house to check the results.

First one done and five minutes later I texted the number I had to report to with his results. He was clean, for now.

Chapter 6

I woke up to the sound of someone yelling and I sat bolt upright. What the hell? Then I realized where I was; I was in the luxury surrounds and big white queen bed of Lucas Ainwright’s beachside digs. If only some gorgeous guy was lying beside me. Then I heard the yelling again and I realized what it was. It wasn’t yelling; it was a female orgasming and it was coming from upstairs of the adjoining house. Gross. I pulled the pillow over my ears and tried to ride it out, metaphorically speaking.

Five minutes later I removed the pillow and it was still going on. I prayed to the patron saint of frustrated women everywhere that whoever was upstairs would just come already. I jumped up, pulled on some running shorts, a sports bra and singlet and went into the bathroom long enough to pee, tie my hair back and check I hadn’t grown a horn on my head or anything overnight before heading out in public.

I hurriedly slipped on my running shoes and laced them. I could hear Lucas groaning with pleasure now. For the love of God, he wasn’t short of a dollar; had he ever thought about soundproofing the wall between the guest wing and main house? No wonder the others left—poor Mrs. Whatever-her-name-was must have been mortified. I grabbed the keys and slipped out the front door. Not looking back I ran away from the house and down the path to the beach, breathing easier.

What I wouldn’t give for a good orgasm. The last good lover I had, okay the only good lover I had was my on-and-off boyfriend, Ben. I wasn’t experienced enough to know that good lovers would be so rare, so very rare, until I had had a few after Ben. I never really appreciated him enough for his sexual prowess—oh the waste. We were so good and so very bad together; I’m sure it was lust that kept us together but he was like a drug I couldn’t shake. We were off as often as we were on and when he finished his law degree and left my college, I could breathe again knowing I wouldn’t see him on campus all the time. I swear that man could click his fingers and I would drop my clothes. I ran past a nice looking guy who smiled at me and I returned his smile. I wonder if he knew I was thinking about my last good romp would he come back or speed up.

I headed home about forty minutes later and lucky me, just in time to see the orgasm recipient departing. She was walking down the path towards me and she was gorgeous—tall, a glowing tan, long blond hair—she was the front cover of Cosmopolitan. I was a sporty chick; fit, slim, quick, but she was a supermodel.

“Morning.” I smiled at her.

“Hello.” She grinned back with a perfect straight set of white teeth.

“Are you okay for a ride?” I asked, looking around for her car.

“Oh you’re sweet, thank you,” she said. “I’m parked just around the corner. I didn’t know which house it was.”

“Well, have a good day,” I said.

“You too.”

Her day was off to a better start than mine by the sounds of her earlier performance. I watched as supermodel walked on with style and grace, her sandals swinging from her fingers and her fitted white dress making her look angelic. She must have known who I was as she wasn’t at all concerned that I was lining up next for an orgasm or perhaps she was so secure in herself she didn’t care if I was.

I sighed and turned back towards the house and then something caught my eye. Upstairs in the top panoramic windows stood Lucas, no shirt, wearing black track pants and standing with his arms folded. He smiled at me... actually it was more of a satisfied smirk. A smirk that said
I got laid and you didn’t
. I gave him a smirky look back, which, I hoped, out-smirked him and headed into my wing of his house for a shower.

Fifteen minute later as I was getting out of the shower, I heard banging on the door of our joint entrance. What now? Surely this morning’s activities should keep him sated for at least an hour. He knocked again and then I heard him barge in. In seconds he was coming down the hallways. I grabbed for a towel and just got it around me as he appeared in the bathroom door.

“I knocked,” he said as though it was my fault for taking a shower when he intended to drop in.

“I couldn’t get to the door... I was in the shower!”

He thought for a second, couldn’t come up with anything to counter that and bellowed, “Get dressed. We’ve got to go.”

“Go where?” I noticed he was in the Santa Ana Saints’ training gear—long shorts, singlet and a hoodie undone—and he was looking particularly good in it might I say. Shame he was so unlikeable, damn tragedy.

“Training,” he answered, bringing me back to the now.

“Training,” I repeated.

“T-r-a-i-n-i-n-g,” he said more slowly. “It’s how we superstars of the sports world stay on top.”

“Oh, I thought you trained this morning,” I said, with a smirk, referring to the supermodel. I had to work on my smirks; my range wasn’t big enough. “Besides, why do I have to come to training?”

“Because you’re my minder... they always came to training and you’re a physio for fuck’s sake; don’t you want to get some work experience?” he asked.

“Hell yes!” My eyes lit up.

“Well move it. I can’t be late, I’m the captain.” He continued to stand there.

“I need to get changed.” I stated the obvious.

“Don’t let me stop you.” He smiled. “Put on something sporty in case they let you do something useful.” He said it as though he implied my role here was far from useful.

I raised my eyebrows and glared at him.

“Oh fine,” he said, turned, and stormed out.

I’d just let my towel drop to slip on my bra and panties when he reappeared. I screamed and grabbed for the towel again.