People were firing questions at him in Russian and English, and although she didn’t understand much of it she heard every word said in the deep, deliberate voice from up front. Wanting to get another look at him, Rose shuffled sideways in an effort to detach herself from the scrum.
‘Pardon. Sorry. Just a sec—sorry.’
This wasn’t strictly necessary—in fact understated to the point of invisible was supposed to be her modus operandi—but she now had an uninterrupted view. A daunting view.
Thank God he wasn’t in her plan. She could not possibly approach this man.
And then she realised he’d stopped speaking. He was looking at her. His eyes, so deep and intens
e in their regard, were riveted on hers, and what she saw in them had a direct effect on her breathing. As in it completely stopped.
He angled his big muscular body towards her and what broke the spell, Rose realised, was the fact that she’d stepped towards him. Just fractionally, but clearly enough for him to notice.
Also enough to step on the back of the shoe of the woman in front of her, who said something rude. And then the facilitator standing on the podium made a gesture towards her and said, ‘Angliski? English?’
A microphone was shoved in front of her face. Rose looked down at it and back up into those spectacular, mesmerising eyes that were… Why was he looking at her like that?
Ask a question, Rose. He wants you to ask him a question.
Her throat, already dry and unaccountably scratchy, was constricted. She ran her tongue along her bottom lip. From somewhere her voice came, all high and breathy and really, really Texan.
‘Are y’all single?’
CHAPTER TWO
PLATO was not a fan of the media, but he knew how to play their game. You turned up; you used the publicity; you told them nothing.
Not that it would stop the tabloid reports, but it might deflect somewhat from the constant stream of drivel emanating from his last five-minute girlfriend about blondes and orgies on super-yachts. The bath of vintage champagne a burlesque dancer was supposed to have performed in at his recent twenty-eighth birthday celebration was the most current story doing the rounds. Yet, despite that last report actually being true, there was something belittling about seeing it all strung out like so many coloured lights—as if in the end this was his net worth. Lurid entertainment for the masses.
His media profile, however, helped out the team, and he had turned up today to give the coach and the boys the benefit of his press exposure.
It was a simple meet-and-greet before the match, but his mind was elsewhere. He’d spent this morning at a local gaol as his lawyers went through the paperwork to get two of his best players out of the cells. They were both currently holed up in a hotel room with Security. He didn’t trust them on their own. But it was only a matter of time before the story broke.
For the time being, though, he needed to keep a cap on it.
Then he saw her.
She gazed unblinkingly back at him, and if eyes were the windows to the soul these eyes had the curtains wide open, the bed unmade and a woman lying bare naked, all hot and flushed and bothered. And waiting.
For him.
Oh, yeah, this was enough to take his mind off the team.
Big blue eyes, round cheeks dusted with rosy colour, and a ruby curve of a mouth that made her look on the verge of a smile. He catalogued every one of her attributes and found his own mouth predictably returning that smile. Until this moment he’d had nothing to smile about all day. Things had just turned around.
Plato found himself standing a little straighter, with purpose edging back his shoulders. She was an angel, he thought, amused at his own susceptibility. The subtle fullness of her face made him unaccountably think of Renaissance Madonnas.
Da, a stunningly beautiful girl. In any era.
Aware she had completely stolen away his attention from the event at hand, he asked for her question.
For a moment her blank expression had him about to redirect to someone else, but then the little goddess licked her sweet ruby lips, opened her mouth, and asked the only question that needed no answer.
The entire world knew he was single.
At this moment, thanks to the disgruntled ex-girlfriend, he was possibly the most single man on the planet.
As the room reacted with laughter the girl, goal achieved, gazed levelly back at him.