Team Tomás (The Saints Team #2) (14 page)

Chapter 26

Saints’ captain, Lucas Ainswright, was in the
building. The girl wires were on alert; the news travelled from Suzie at reception—she
should have been a code breaker for the government, she was right onto it
dispersing the signal via the female office grapevine. By the time we got the
message ‘
captain onboard’
, we had already seen him pull up in his
Lamborghini—it was fortuitous having a view of the office parking lot from our
window. He was here to see Shayne of course. They had a weekly catch up, but
that didn’t stop every girl in the office checking him out. Luckily Mia was a
secure type of girl and Lucas only had eyes for her—and I wouldn’t be telling
her about the Lucas grapevine alert system.

This morning, in our team on our
side of the office it was tense—it was monthly magazine deadline day for Sasha.
She was in a state trying to get copy off to the printer on time. Jim said it
was like PMS time which was pretty brave of him especially since he had sold
another two advertisements at the last moment, which meant Sasha had to go up
an extra four pages in size and now had an extra two editorial pages to fill.
Jim elected to keep right away from our partition area. Kay and I helped out with
proofing and filler stories—I had already supplied my story and pics about Ed’s
clinic, but I drummed up another quarter page story about coming match day
entertainment plus the pending girls’ lunch, and I selected some game day shots
for Sasha to do a montage page.

I then got back to work on the
Saints’ Sisters lunch which was next week—yep, once every three months the
Saints’ female sponsors, fans and friends had a lunch event. It was girls only
and tickets were seventy dollars each and included a two-course lunch,
champagne on arrival, a lucky draw and two special guest speakers which was
usually two of the Saints’ players—there was safety in numbers. Our female MC,
who was one of the local radio personalities, interviewed them and called for
questions from the audience; I can just imagine. The cheerleaders usually
kicked it off with a performance, one of the city stores put on a fashion parade
and usually got quite a few sales out of it, and it was a great day... supposedly,
I hadn’t been involved in one before but now I was organizing it! I found all
of my predecessor’s notes and luckily the venue had already been booked for the
four events of the year; one of the five-star hotels that was a Saints’
sponsor.

I updated the rundown for the day,
spoke with the MC, checked on ticket sales, confirmed the social photographer
was booked, checked with the choreographer and head cheerleader that they were
good to do the opener, sorted out a luxury raffle prize of a pamper session for
the winner and three friends, bought the raffle tickets, and all I had to do
was to give a final rundown and a few briefing notes to our MC and guest
speakers, and meet with the hotel public relations person. Bookings opened last
month and the venue took them directly—too easy. I found the hotel contact and
emailed her to catch up tomorrow morning if possible to introduce myself and
make sure I was doing everything I was supposed to do.

Then, I just had to hope and pray that
we sold out and it went smoothly on the day. Having said that, I was saving my
prayers for really important stuff, not Saints’ Sisters lunch days—more like
world peace and Tomás telling me there had been a translation mix up and this
woman was his first cousin and had a clinging disorder. Yeah, back to work.

With only four Saints’ Sisters
lunches a year, eight players all up were allocated to the event and Jim said they
had to be stars of the team, not rookies, or the girls wouldn’t come and
wouldn’t pay and we wanted the dollars—it was a nice little earner for the club
and good PR for the female membership drive. I found the list of player
commitments in the folder. Lucas and Nik had appeared at the first one. That
would have been fun—I could just imagine those two on stage together. I looked
at the names confirmed against the next event and holy unlucky draw, yep, you
guessed it—Tomás and The Russian. Great, just great.

This was so fucked. It was so
fucked that there were no words to describe how fucked it was. Could I change
it? I looked through the folder but it was way too late for that. The event was
well-promoted and the ladies might not appreciate a late scratching. I checked
out the invitation—it was cute, all in pink and featured Tomás’s and The
Russian’s names. Damn.

I had a thought... I wonder if
this is why my predecessor left? Did she get too close to one of the players
and then it was too hard for her to continue to do this job and see him? Hmm,
Sasha would give me the lowdown, but not today on her deadline day—I glanced at
her; I’m not sure she was breathing.

I drew a deep breath for the two
of us and sat up straighter. Well I wasn’t going to leave the Saints because of
Tommy boy. No way. I loved this job and he was a flash in the pan. He’d probably
be signed to some other team—the Two-timing Twits—and be long gone while I was
still building my career here. So we were going to keep this really professional
and we were going to work together and be nice to each other. Right then, that
was sorted. I just had to get Tomás on the same page.

And then I heard the low rumble of
a motorbike and saw the black Ducati and its leather clad rider pull into the Saints’
parking lot. Could today get any better? I went through a thousand escape
scenarios in my head. Nope, nothing, but I couldn’t have Tomás dropping into my
work trying to fix this. Unless he wasn’t here to see me, but odds were he was.
Crap.
I grabbed my file on the Saints’ Sisters lunch and luckily Sasha
was so stressed that she didn’t notice me leave the office or Tomás arrive. I
looked in at the Saints’ Security office next to mine and saw The Russian
sitting back with his feet on the desk, watching last week’s game replay. Ed
was nowhere to be seen. I rapped lightly on the door.

The Russian looked up. “Alice,
come in. Flat out here but you never need an appointment,” he said in his
unhurried way. He paused the game and took his feet off the desk. “I’d offer
you a tea or coffee but you know where the kitchen is.”

“Yeah, that would just be silly, thanks
Russian,” I agreed with him. “Besides I know you’re very busy. I don’t want you
going to any trouble. Got a minute to talk about next week’s Saints’ Sisters
lunch?”

“Sure, we’ve got to look after the
girls,” he said with an interested grin on his face.

I wondered if that grin was wider
since he had broken up with Leesa and was looking forward to being the center
of attention at a lunch with well over three hundred women in attendance.

I closed the door and entered.
Mission accomplished; when Tomás passed my desk, I would be AWOL again. I’m so
clever sometimes I impress myself. I gave The Russian a five minute overview of
what time he’d be expected, what he would have to wear, and the sort of things
he would be required to do. I checked he was cool to take questions and told
him to talk with Lucas and Nik if he was worried because they did it last time.

“Do you feed us?” he asked.

“Hell yeah,” I said.

“Not girly sized serves,” he said.

“I’ll make sure they’re alpha
size,” I assured him.

He nodded. “I hope the girls
notice Tomás next to me, you know... those Latin good looking types just tend
to look insignificant next to a man of my size and stature. I’ve got three
inches on him.” He tried not to smile delivering that line, but couldn’t help himself.

I grinned and shook my head. “Way
too much info thanks, Russian.”

“Height, I’m talking height. He’s
about six or six-two, I’m six-five and pure muscle.”

“Oh, height,” I said, playing
along with wide-eyed wonder. “Oh, well, it’s just his bad luck he drew you as
his co-star. What can you do? It’ll be character building for him.”

The Russian shook his head. “Not fair
to the rest of humanity.”

We both laughed and as I closed my
file, signaling this meeting was well and truly over, there was a knock on the
security office door.

“Come in,” The Russian bellowed.
He turned to me, and added, “rushed off my feet.”

The door opened and Tomás stood
there. His eyes went straight to mine and if The Russian could read reactions,
he would have blushed, if guys do blush. In one momentary stare a collision of
anger, lust, passion and fear traded between us. It was so real to me I could
taste it.

“Pez, we were just talking about
you.” The Russian indicated for him to come in. The small office was now
crowded and Tomás stood blocking the doorway.

“Russian, Al...iss,” he greeted us
both, glancing momentarily at The Russian before returning his gaze to me. “So,
why were you talking about me?”

“The Saints’ Sisters lunch next
week... it’s you and me offered up as the entertainment,” The Russian said. “I
just hope you get a few questions.”

Tomás grinned and gave The Russian
an expression that said
you’re totally screwed
and I think The Russian
was, especially if Tomás was wearing that leather jacket.

“Anyway, got to go.” I rose and
tried to move around Tomás who stood blocking the entrance. “Thanks Russian,
you’re sorted then, and I’ll email you the details Tomás to your club email.” I
said my piece to Tomás making only minimal eye contact. See, this was going to
be possible, we’d be fine working together and it would get easier.

Then all that went out the window
as Tomás grabbed my arm and sent an electric charge through us both.

“Al...iss, I just need to see you
for a minute,” he said.

“I’ll be at my desk,” I said,
pulling my arm away from his.

His eyes narrowed and he folded
his strong arms across his lean chest, pulling his grey T-shirt tighter and
showing his definition. If only he looked awful—it was so unfair.

“Just five minutes, alone,” he
said.

“I can’t right now, I’m at work Tomás,
unless this is a work matter.”

“Fuck, Al...iss,” he hissed under
his breath. I could feel The Russian watching us with much interest. Tomás
turned to The Russian.

“I know it’s your office, Russian,
but could you fuck off somewhere for five minutes?” he asked.

“No, he’s busy, I’ve got a stack
to do too,” I waved the folder at him, “and it’s magazine deadline day and...”
my voice trailed off.

The Russian stood and held up his
hands. “All good, I’ve got to go see Johan anyway, and make a coffee since
Alice wouldn’t make me one.”

“Russian, I don’t want to lose
this job,” I said in a low voice as he passed me. He nodded at me with a look
that promised discretion and slapped Tomás on the back as he departed. He moseyed
on out in typical Russian fashion. The moment he was through the door, Tomás
shut it, locked it and spun around to face me.

I was trapped and with him and I
wanted him so desperately. He reached to hold me and I stepped back, bumping up
against the desk. Damn these poky offices.

Tomás exhaled with frustration.

“You’re being unreasonable,
Al...iss, you could just hear me out,” he said, his eyes blazing.

I think my jaw dropped because I
felt my mouth open.

I said in a low, dangerous voice, “You
spent Saturday night with your tongue all over me and I’m unreasonable for
ignoring you when I see you with your girlfriend on Sunday?” I hissed the words
at him and finished in a sort of hysterical high.

He grabbed at me again and pulled
me to him. He put his hand behind my head and pressed his lips on mine and
forced his tongue in my mouth. A guttural sound rose from his throat as if he
needed this as much as I did. I hit his chest with both of my fists and he
pulled tighter, pressing me against him, giving me no room to hit him or push
him off.

He continued to press himself hard
against me and I could feel the rising in his jeans. He moved his mouth to my
ear and whispered. “Listen to me, just listen.”

He waited until I stopped fighting
against him but didn’t release me. His cheek was pressed next to mine and he
clutched me, continuing to whisper in my ear. “Yes, she’s my girlfriend but not
for much longer... I’m working on...”

I gave him a good shove and pushed
away from him. He regained his footing and dropped his hands to his hips.
“You’re not working hard enough Tomás. You knew she was coming, so why start
with me unless I was nothing more to you than a few nights’ fun?”

He ran a hand through his hair, closed
his eyes and drew a deep breath, reining in his temper. His eyes looked even
darker when he opened them and re-fixed them on me.

“You are not that, never that,” he
said between gritted teeth. “Can you let me explain?”

“What’s to say, really?”

“Who were those flowers from?” he
asked.

It took me a few seconds to make
the connection of what he was asking me.

“The flowers near your desk,” he
clarified.

“Not from you,” I said.

“No. Who is he?”

“He is no-one. A nice guy I met at
the conference and he sent me flowers, not that it is anything to do with you.”

“Hell, yes it is. You were in my
bed on Saturday night and during the day you’re chatting up some guy at the
conference.” His dark eyes flared and his chest puffed like a caveman.

“Seriously? That is not the same.
I sat next to a nice guy. We chatted, I did not flirt, I did not kiss him, or drape
myself over him, or promise him anything. I left early and came to you, big
mistake. Next working day he sent flowers. So not the same as you picking up
your girlfriend from the airport, taking her out, being all over each other
and... sharing your bed with her.” The last words I spoke brought tears to my
eyes and I blinked them away self-consciously.

The door handle turned and finding
it locked, Ed rapped on the door.