Team Niklas (The Saints Team #3) (7 page)

“Then I’m wrong,” he said. “But I’m not.” He went to
reach for me and I pushed him away.

“Boiling water,” I said, making his coffee. “Just stay
clear, not worth the risk.”

He shook his head at me.

“I learned something about you before the press
conference,” I said.

I noticed Nik stiffen… what did he think I was going
to say?

“What’s that?” he tried to say casually but his eyes
gave him away.

“I noticed you are not six-foot-five like your player
sheet and stats online says. You were standing next to The Russian and you were
a couple of inches shorter,” I said, raising an eyebrow in his direction.

Nik visibly relaxed and breathed out. He smiled at me.
“Shayne got it wrong on the stats sheet when he was doing all my early profile
stuff… translation problem.”

“Uh huh,” I said, suspiciously. “And why haven’t we
fixed it?”

Nik grinned before answering. “Because Lucas and the
boys wanted to leave it… it cheeses The Russian off—he likes to think he’s the
tallest in the club.”

I smiled and shook my head. “You guys are so
competitive. So what are you?”

“Six-foot-three, plenty big enough,” he said,
suggestively.

I bit my lower lip as I stopped to study him and gave
him just the hint of a nod.

“I’m changing it,” I said.

“Spoil sport.” He took the coffee from me and thanked
me. “You look very cute. You have a good body,” he said, his gaze travelling
over the black leggings and black hoodie I had changed into after my workout.
My white socked feet were probably the highlight.

I laughed. “You’re so direct. Well, Nik, you have a
good body too.”

“Want to see it?” he asked.

More than you’ll ever know buddy
, but I didn’t
say that. I smiled at him. “Have you eaten?”

“I wasn’t hungry before.”

“Crap, Nik, bad, very bad,” I scolded him, “you’ve got
to eat, you can’t train the amount you do if you’re not balancing your diet. The
coach and Doc would kick your butt if they knew that you haven’t eaten, then
kick mine.”

He shrugged. “It was a disrupted week.”

I sighed. “I know, I’m sorry after the nose bleed
incident, and the punch, and the eviction from the press conference.”

“The waves weren’t good either,” he said, with the
hint of a smile. “But that wasn’t your fault.” He moved closer to me again and
this time I let him. There was this weird current running between us. I swear
all my hairs were standing on end. He put a hand either side of me on the
counter and looked down at me. “Sah-sha, I would take a black eye for you any
day as long as I was your boyfriend.”

I smiled up at him. Tall, all that muscle, tough on
the ground, gentle in bed allegedly, and so sure of what he wants. I’m not sure
I’ve met anyone like Nik; I think we were both loners, only he was more
trusting than I was.

“I don’t want you ever taking a hit for me Nik. Now
focus, the rest of the team would have eaten the equivalent to a small Italian
village in pasta by now—you have to eat, have to have some protein and
carbohydrates,” I said, giving him a lecture.

“I’m feeling hungrier now,” he agreed. “See, you’re
good for me already. Have you eaten?”

“I had a liquid dinner,” I said, nodding towards the
remaining chardonnay in my glass.

He frowned. “Not good enough. Come on, we’ll go get
something.”

“I have ingredients here, we can cook,” I said.
“Homemade will be better for you.” I went to my pantry and pulled out some
whole-wheat pasta, a tin of tomatoes and pointed to the freezer, directing Nik
to get the ground beef, and we got to work.

“You have a lot in your freezer for a single person,”
Nik said, with just a hint of suspicion in his voice.
How can someone that
gorgeous and successful be so insecure?

“I have three brothers and a male best friend,” I
reminded him. “Every time they drop in, they just happen to be hungry, so I’m
well stocked.”

We cooked next to each other and I set aside some beef
for Prada even though he had eaten.

“Your brother, is that the one you had your hand on?”
he asked, in between sips of his coffee.

Ah, so he did see that.

“That’s him. That’s Ethan,” I said. “You should have
come over and I would have introduced you.”

“I thought that might be uncomfortable for you if he
was your boyfriend. Do your brothers look like triplets?” Nik asked.

“Two look really alike—Jason and Sam. They look like
Saffron, with the dark hair and brown eyes. Ethan and I look similar,” I said.
“We’re close.” I cast a glance towards Nik.

“Tell me about your family,” I pushed him again. He
went to open his mouth and I jumped in. “And don’t say there’s nothing to tell…
I’ve told you about mine, you have to give now.”

“Can I have a glass of water?” he stalled.

“Of course. I’ve got juice too, so help yourself to whatever
you want from the fridge.” I reached for a tall glass and gave it to him. It
was nice cooking beside him in the kitchen; I was acutely aware of the space he
filled and I knew he felt it too. He forgot his train of thought each time he
came within inches of me. Or he was in fear of his life… whichever.

He filled up a glass with water, gulped some down and
returned to stirring the beef while I boiled the pasta. I waited, not really
patiently and tried hard not to ask the question again.

“This is ready, I think Sah-sha,” he said, putting
some ground beef on the wooden spoon for me to taste. I tried it and agreed.

“I have to do the pasta test,” I said. With a fork, I
picked out a strand of pasta from the boiling pot of water and threw it against
the kitchen splash-back tiles. The pasta stuck there.

“What the fuck?” Nik laughed, surprised.

 “It’s ready,” I said, “that’s how you can tell.”

“Right,” he said, and laughed again.

I grabbed two bowls and drained the pasta, directing
him to the cutlery and napkins; he seemed to remember from our noodle night.

 Still no talk of his family—what’s that about?

 I dished up a massive serve for him and a medium
serve for me. I sprinkled grated fresh cheese on top, put Prada’s bowl of beef
on the kitchen floor and we moved to sit in the lounge on the sofa—I never ate
at the table, oh yeah, that’s because I didn’t have one.

“This is great,” Nik said, alternating between his
glass of water and the pasta. “Thank you, Sah-sha.”

“My pleasure. Now if you have a bad training session
tomorrow it’s got nothing to do with me,” I said, wiping my hands of all
responsibility. “So Nik, why don’t you tell me something about your family?
What’s going on? Think I don’t notice that you haven’t shared?”

 He continued to eat and attempted to look out the
window, but could see only a bit of the night sky and the room reflected
through the partially opened blind.

“I have no family,” he said.

I nodded. “No family still alive or no family you want
to speak of?”

“I’m a Waise, um, an orphan,” he translated the German
word.

I felt a wave of sadness for Nik; here was I talking
about being from a big family—both parents who loved me, a twin with a special
bond and three brothers, and Nik was alone in the world. I didn’t push it any
further.

“Lucky you met me and I have a big family then,” I
said, “we might just have to adopt you.”

He smiled and looked at me for the first time since
the discussion started. I began to think Nik was a lot more complex than I
first thought and I was going to scratch below that hunky surface gradually.

*****

To my surprise Nik didn’t suggest he’d stay the night; I guess all his
gear was at home and he had to be at training early. Maybe he thought he had to
tread a little slow and if he tried it on I’d pull back... I’m not sure I would.
But he did help with the dishes.

“I’m glad you texted me,” he said taking a plate from
me and wiping it.

“Me too,” I said, “I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”

Nik gave me a smile and flicked the tea towel across
my butt. “So your brother and these friends you were with the other night, just
friends, no boyfriend hiding under your bed?” he said, with a glance upstairs.

I rolled my eyes at him. “No boyfriend,” I assured him.
I saw his lip curl slightly in a smile. I suspect Nik was thinking he was back
in the game and I was feeling pretty glad he was and freaked out too.

“What about you, Nik,” I dried my hands and turned to
face him. “You go out after the game and I know you pick up. Anyone that you’ve
had back for seconds?”

He looked a little confused.

“Anyone that you’ve been seeing regularly,” I
clarified.

“No. After a match it’s good to wind down with the
team, especially when we win. I don’t stay too late though, it’s a long day.”

“Yeah but don’t you usually head home from the bar
with someone?” I asked, teasing him. “I can’t reveal my sources but someone I
know overheard some ladies talking at the bar and they said you were a ‘sensitive
lover’,” I said, making quote marks in the air and not telling on Alice who
heard the convo. Lucky she told me before Nik and I hooked up because she
wouldn’t have spilled that otherwise.

I wonder what sensitive means? I hope he’s manly, I
like them manly—I don’t want any lover crying after an orgasm for godsake!

He hesitated answering. “I won’t be going home with
anyone if I’m with you, Sah-sha. I think you are determined to think the worst
of me.”

His words stopped me. I watched his mouth, his
beautiful mouth usher those words with just a tightening of his lips as though
my thoughts of him were undeserved. Was I doing that, looking for his faults
and failures so I could make excuses to pull away from him? That’s sort of what
Ethan said too, as if I’m always looking out for an out.

“It not that, it’s okay, I know players are players,”
I said, taking the towel from him as we finished.

 “I’m not a player if I’m in a relationship.”

“Okay,” I said, “well when you’re in a relationship
you can behave.”

He pulled me close again. “You’re pushing me away
again. I’m not a player in a relationship, Sah-sha.” He said it more slowly
this time.

I looked away. Nik was always so direct that he caught
me off guard sometimes. I didn’t always have reactions prepared. He lifted my
chin to make me look him in the eyes.

“Do you understand what I’m saying about us?” he said.

I nodded.

“Good. I have to go.” He leaned down to kiss me again.
This time his tongue ventured in between my lips ever so slightly and I felt my
breathing hitch. Fuck this man was hot and I was way too vulnerable for this.

He moved away and breathed out. “You’re a trouble
maker, Sah-sha.” He shook his head at me. “Now I have a huge erection,” he
said, matter-of-factly.

I laughed as he broke the tension. “It appears you
do,” I agreed looking down at the tight press in his jeans.

 “At least I am still in one piece. Good night,
meine Süsse
.
”

“What does that mean?” I asked, my eyes narrowing with
suspicion.

“My sweetie or sweetheart,” he said, with a cheeky
look. He went to the table, grabbed his jacket, and put it on.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been called sweet or...” I
tried pronouncing it, “sues-sza.”

“Good. Then it is my unique name for you. Unless we go
to Germany and everyone says it there.”

If I was a really considerate host, I would have
offered to relieve him of that hard package in his jeans—and maybe baked a
cake.

“Night Nik, drive safely, keep your hands on the wheel,”
I told him, and he laughed. “Think unsexy thoughts like training early in cold
water, or The Russian giving you a rub down.” Even that had me wincing at the
thought.

He smiled and shook his head at me as I followed him
to the door.

“I will see you tomorrow night for dinner, yeah? I’ll
book somewhere nice, pick you up at seven.” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Lock
this door,” he said, as he opened it and moved into the hallway. I nodded and
we held each other’s gaze just long enough to make me super wet. He reached out
and with his large hand, cupped one side of my face for just a moment, and then
he smiled and walked away. I think I just melted to the spot.

“Lock the door,” he called back from the stairwell.

“Yes sir,” I snapped, closing and locking the door. I pressed
my forehead against the door and breathed out. A man without a family who knows
exactly what he wants and it is me—complicated men were definitely becoming my
specialty.

Chapter 9

“Remember, no swearing Russian,” I said, glancing over to the ‘wall’
sitting next to me as we drove to Radio K-Talk where The Russian was to be a
guest on the ten o’clock sports program.

“Fuck no, wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, giving me a
sly look. I returned his look with a touch of grimace and smartass. It takes
some skill to do that, but I’m the girl for the job. The sports weekend preview
program was on every Friday morning and I usually sent a player along. Some
didn’t need me to come with them; others like The Russian liked to have the
media officer with him, made him feel important. He filled the front seat of my
silver Alpha Spider convertible but refused to take his car—I think he also
liked being chauffeured around by women.

“So Sasha, how’s it going with you and the Kaiser,
anything happening?” he asked.

“And I’d be telling you Russian because...?” I asked.

He grinned again. “Because you like me.”

“Ha,” I scoffed. “What gave you that idea?”

“I like that pant suit you are wearing,” he said,
glancing at my very groovy red pant suit that I had just designed and made a
prototype of before selling online. “But I prefer you in a dress, you have good
legs.”

I shook my head at him. “Russian you must have
breached a couple of discrimination acts in that last comment, you’re a
dinosaur. But thanks anyway. I prefer you in your soccer shorts but we’ll both
just have to put up with not seeing each other’s legs.”

He was a good looking guy in a big sort of way—Nik was
big but most of it was height; he was agile and fit, but The Russian was big
everywhere that I could see.

“I’m a little disappointed you didn’t ask me out,
Sasha, instead of Kaiser,” he teased.

I glanced towards him and grinned. “First, I didn’t
ask Kaiser out, and second, yeah, you and I would be a marriage made in heaven
Russian,” I said with a laugh.

“Why? We get on,” he pushed. I knew he was teasing me
and wouldn’t touch me with a ten foot pole, he was such a stirrer. I indicated
to turn off the main road to the station.

“We would kill each other. Let’s do a little test,” I
said. “Favorite program?”

“National Geographic,” he said. “You?”

“Sports channel,” I told him. “Favorite food?”

“Steak.”

“Vegetarian lasagna,” I countered and he grimaced.
“Favorite music?”

“Rock.” The Russian scoffed as though it was
everyone’s choice.

“Jazz,” I said, “favorite book?”

“Any sports magazine,” he said.

I held up my hand, “I think I’ve proved my point. We
would annoy the hell out of each other. What would we talk about?”

“Why would we have to talk?”

I tore my glance from the road long enough to give him
another look.

“What? C’mon, everyone knows opposites attract. So
what’s the Kaiser got that I haven’t?” he persisted.

“He speaks German,” I said.

The Russian nodded. “Yeah, fair enough, that’d be high
on my list too,” he teased.

I really wanted to ask The Russian what he knew about
Nik but I didn’t want to be seen to be checking up on him. He’d tell me when he’s
good and ready... wouldn’t be soon enough. The best thing about The Russian
though, is that he loved a bit of gossip and freely volunteered it.

“The girls love Nik you know, I’ve heard good reports
that he’s great in the sack,” he said.

I grimaced. “Did I ask for a horizontal report card?”

“You know he got five offers from different clubs, and
he came here.”

“I heard it was six. Maybe he likes the beach,” I
offered.

“Maybe he wanted to get as far away from Berlin as
possible. Some skeletons in the closet?”

“You telling or asking?” I said.

“Just saying he’s a closed book. Captain couldn’t get
much from him either.”

“Mm, interesting. Nik and Lucas used to hang out a
bit, so if he can’t crack him, then maybe he doesn’t want to be cracked,” I
said. “What do they say about you out there?”

The Russian shrugged. “It’d be all good.”

“For sure,” I agreed, smiling to myself. I turned into
the radio station parking lot and parked my car. We headed to reception and Dan,
one of the journalists from the station I went to college with, came out to
greet us.

“Sasha, Russian, thanks for coming in, come this way.”

I followed Dan into the studio and he took The Russian
into the booth. I sat outside with the producer until Dan’s return.

“You didn’t have to come,” Dan said, rejoining me.

“Tell Russian that. He likes to have his hand held.” I
smiled at our Saints’ soccer star through the glass separating the studio and
he smiled back, the big ham.

“Hey, will you be at the game this Sunday?” Dan asked me.

“Yep, match day and I work for the Saints,” I said,
summarizing it.

“Of course. I was thinking we should catch up
sometime,” he said.

I looked at Dan and frowned. “Yeah, well I’ll see you
at the game on Sunday.”

“Oh sure,” he said.

What the…? Seems it never rains but it pours guys.
When you start seeing someone you suddenly become much more attractive to other
guys for some weird reason. You must give off a pheromone that says
I’m
attractive to a man therefore I’m attractive to all men
. But seriously, Dan
now? I busied myself tweeting to Saints’ fans that The Russian was going to be
on air in a few minutes. Then, the red light came on and The Russian came on
live. I returned my concentration to the studio where he kept glancing out at
me—the man loved an audience. I hope the announcer had his finger on the seven
second silence button because I doubted The Russian could go a whole
conversation without dropping in a good swear word or two. I gave him the
thumbs up after a well-thought-out answer.

I loved my job; here I was in a radio studio getting
paid to keep an eye on The Russian and this Sunday was game day. Hell yeah,
bring it on.