The Striker's Chance (13 page)

Since that no had come from Holly Taylor, apparently.

He slid his left foot into its cleat and pulled the lace tight.

A compromise, then. Sunday was the last chance. If she rejected him, then he needed to grow some self-respect and move on. He was likely to be in this town for a while and couldn’t spend all his time pining after someone who had made her preference very clear.

Kepler smiled as he chucked the tape into his locker. He kissed his forefinger and then touched it to the photo of his parents he’d pinned up on the door, then to the photo of his brother and his family, and then to the miniature South African flag that hung beside them.

He shut the locker door and headed out toward the tunnel.

One last chance to score with Holly. And he didn’t intend to miss.

Chapter Twelve

“Please don’t be weird,” Holly begged Rick as he lit the grill. “I want him to have the chance to feel normal. A regular guy meeting some new friends.”

“I’ll do my best,” Rick promised. He shook his head incredulously. “I can’t believe I’m about to hang out with Killer de Klerk.”

“And definitely don’t call him that,” she instructed, before moving back to where her friends had gathered on her patio. It was a group of about ten people, half from her college days at Duke and half from the PR agency where she worked before becoming self-employed, plus assorted spouses and Kristin and Rick’s baby daughter. An easygoing, welcoming bunch of people. She hoped fervently that Kepler would feel at ease.

As if on cue, she heard the muffled chime of the doorbell through the open windows. She hurried through the house with her heart in her throat, pausing momentarily in front of the full-length mirror in the entryway to give her outfit a final onceover.

Earlier that afternoon she’d had to revise her look when she realized that she had unconsciously dressed more for a date than a Sunday afternoon barbecue. She’d ditched the dress and heels for short shorts and a nice T-shirt, swapped the impeccably smooth ponytail for loose waves over her shoulders and washed off almost every drop of makeup. As she studied her appearance one more time, she thought she looked fresh and natural, but definitely low-key.

She opened the door and there he was, looking more like a surfer than a professional athlete in baggy shorts and flip-flops. He had a twelve-pack case of beer tucked under one arm and a bottle of wine in his other hand.

“Kepler, I’m so glad you made it—oh my God,” Holly blurted as she looked at the label on the wine. She was no sommelier, but she was pretty sure it was at least a fifty-dollar bottle.

“What?” he asked, and when she looked up she saw his distraught expression. She forced herself to swallow her shock and recover her smile.

“Nothing.” She gestured through the house to the patio. “Come on in.”

Kepler took a tentative step inside but lingered near the doorway as he peered past her. “How many people are here?”

“About ten, but I’m not really expecting many more.” She took the wine bottle from his hand and started down the hall.

“And they’re all your friends? Do they all know each other?”

“I guess it’s kind of a mix.”

As he drummed his fingers on the case of beer, still not moving any further into the house, the realization hit her.

Discovery’s world-famous, top goal-scoring, all-mighty striker was shy.

She didn’t need to question him; she immediately understood the difference between loud, dark, anonymous nightclubs in the company of his teammates and an afternoon barbecue with a small group of people.

She smiled reassuringly as he shifted the case on his hip. “Everyone is really laid back and friendly, and they’re all excited to meet you.”

Kepler nodded, and Holly led him out to the patio, silently praying that her friends would treat him just like anyone else.

The small backyard was full of the sound of laughter and the smell of charcoal when they stepped through the sliding glass door from the kitchen.

There was a slight hush as they emerged onto the flagstone and all the guests turned toward the new arrival, but she preempted any awkwardness by announcing, “Hey guys, this is Kepler—he brought beer,” and then guiding him to the cooler and helping him stack the cans inside. By the time they shut the lid and stood, everyone had eased back into the rhythms of their conversations.

As he glanced around nervously, his hands shoved into his pockets, she spotted Kristin retrieving her daughter from where the baby had crawled across the grass and repositioning her on the play mat she’d set out on the flagstones.

Holly shoved a beer into Kepler’s hand and led him over.

She introduced Kepler and Kristin, and explained that she and Kristin had gone to college together.

“Nice to meet you, Kepler. How do you like Charlotte so far?” Kristin asked in her typically cheery way.

“It’s fine,” he mumbled as they settled into their seats, then seemed to frantically second-guess his answer. “I mean, it’s nice. It’s different.”

“Fair enough.” Kristin shrugged off his stuttering as she leaned down to redirect the baby onto the mat.

“Is this your daughter?”

Kristin nodded. “This is Samantha. She just turned seven months old and gets into absolutely everything.”

To Holly’s astonishment, his eyes lit up. “I remember when my nephew was that age. He’s almost two now, and he talks up a storm.” He paused before adding bashfully, “I have some pictures of him on my phone, if you want to see.”

“I’d love to,” Kristin said, casting an endeared glance at Holly as he pulled his phone from his pocket.

Holly looked on happily as Kepler flicked through the photos and Kristin asked the occasional question or made a comment. She could count on her best friend to put anyone at ease, even an incongruously timid sports star. What would she do without her?

Everything, once she moved to New York.

As Holly looked around at the people filling her backyard, she was rocked by the revelation that soon this would all be gone. No more running down to Kristin’s to borrow milk for her morning coffee. No more lazy weekend afternoons sunning herself on a lounge chair while she read the newspaper. She’d even miss her monthly cocktail dates with her sister, who despite her irritating traits was always good for some giggly gossip.

As was her routine whenever she began to feel doubt about her decision, Holly tried to conjure exciting images of what her new city life would be like. But her mind was blank, save for feelings of loss and devastation.

So deep in her reverie, she didn’t register the sound of the wine glass shattering on the pavestones or the collective gasp as the pieces flew in all directions. It wasn’t until Kepler moved from his place beside her that she tuned back in. She had just enough time to piece together the situation—Kristin holding up his phone for a better look at a photo, Samantha’s pudgy hand about to close on a jagged piece of glass—to understand why he was leaping forward and sweeping the baby off the ground with the speed and ease of a man with recent experience of snatching a child away from imminent danger.

“Good reflexes,” Kristin commended heartily as Kepler passed the baby to her mother. “You’ve got the makings of being a great dad someday.”

“That day is probably a long way off,” Kepler replied self-effacingly, and then excused himself to help with the wine glass cleanup.

Kristin spun on Holly with mischief in her eyes. “The man can move. And you didn’t tell me he was so hot in person. You should go for it—he’s clearly into you.”

Holly blinked. She hadn’t breathed a word about her feelings for Kepler to anyone, not even her best friend. “What gives you that idea?”

Kristin quirked a brow. “Please don’t tell me you’re so buried in your work that you haven’t noticed. The way he looks at you when he thinks you won’t see him, the way he hangs on your every word—the man is smitten. It’s obvious to anyone with two eyes in their head.”

As Holly watched him dump a handful of shattered glass into a plastic trash bag, Kristin continued, “Seriously, why don’t you go for it?”

Because I get paid to do his PR.
Because I’m moving away.
Because I’ve been lying to him.
All of the usual reasons rattled around in Holly’s brain, but they suddenly seemed small and petty.

She took in the scene around her. A beautiful, blue-sky summer day with a cooling breeze. She had her best friend and closest confidante at her side, holding the daughter Holly had the privilege of watching grow on an almost daily basis. Kepler had moved over to the barbecue to discuss the finer points of grilling with Rick, and although his posture was still slightly stiff, she could see that he’d relaxed significantly.

Then Rick made a comment and Kepler laughed, and her heart wrenched free of its moorings and floated into her throat.

Kristin was looking at her expectantly when Holly turned back to her friend. Her original response to why she didn’t go for it with Kepler—that it would never work—had dried up and dissolved in her mouth.

“I don’t know,” she answered instead.

* * *

Holly pulled up in front of Kepler’s house in Myers Park just after ten o’clock. She wasn’t sure why she was there, except that she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him in the few hours that had elapsed since he’d left the barbecue.

She’d walked him to the door as he was leaving.

“You did great,” she’d whispered so the guests lingering in the kitchen couldn’t hear.

Kepler winced. “You could tell I was nervous?”

“Only because I know you.”

“It’s been a long time since I hung out with people who weren’t millionaire athletes,” he admitted. “But it was good, and I enjoyed it. Thanks for inviting me.”

“It was a pleasure having you,” she said sincerely.

Kepler looked at her for a second longer than was necessary. She got the feeling he was debating whether or not to say something. Instead he reached out and brushed her hair over her shoulder.

“Good night,” he’d said softly, and then he was through the door and gone.

Now she was at his door, raising her hand to the bell with no idea what would happen when—and if—he opened it.

That familiar feeling of insecurity began to creep through her, dragging its cold fingers up her spine. What if he had another woman inside? What if he’d lost interest in her after all this time? What if he told her to leave?

She pressed the bell before she could change her mind.

The seconds ticked by with agonizing slowness, and there was no sign of life in the house. Holly was about to slink back to her car, grateful she’d been saved the embarrassment of this spontaneous encounter, when a light came on in the windows over the front door. There was a click as he threw the bolt, a creak as the door swung open, and then Kepler was in front of her, barefoot and frowning in concern.

“Holly? What’s happened? Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine. I just wanted to see you.”

His expression softened. “That’s a good reason. Come on in.”

Holly followed him through the grand entryway into the back of the house. The rooms were mostly bare except for a few cardboard boxes scattered here and there, and all the empty space made the house seem even larger than when she’d first seen it.

“I was in the study,” he explained as they turned a corner. The faint strains of music reached her ears as they stepped inside an elegant room with a fireplace and French doors that opened into the backyard. A stereo sat atop a pile of hardback books, and the hardwood floor was strewn with the screws, instruction manual and variously sized pieces of coated wood that suggested an IKEA purchase.

“Some assembly required.” He nodded jokingly toward the semi-constructed bookshelf.

“It builds character. What’s this?” she pointed at the stereo, indicating the chilled-out melody that filled the room.

“It’s called
Kwaito.
The lyrics are in Zulu.”

She nodded. “I like it.”

“Do you want a drink?” he asked. “I can make coffee or tea, or I’ve got some beers in the fridge, or—”

Holly silenced him with a shake of her head.

“I came over because—” she began, but faltered as her thoughts flew too quickly for her to translate them into words. “Because today I saw how easily you would fit into my life,” she managed haltingly. “Because I was hiding behind my job when really I was scared that I wouldn’t measure up to other women you’ve been with, and you’d reject me. And because whether I like it or not, I’m falling for you, Kepler. And I hope I’m not too late.”

He stared at her for a long moment, his expression inscrutable, his eyes searching and unreadable, until Holly’s heart was thudding so hard she thought it might pound its way out of her chest.

Then he bent down, wrapped his arm around her hips and threw her over his shoulder as effortlessly as if she were a child.

Holly squealed in delight as he marched up the stairs. Even with her full weight on his shoulder she could feel the smoothness of his gait and the nimble grace of his steps, the very things that helped to make him a powerhouse on the soccer field.

He flicked on the light in the bedroom to reveal that it was as bare as its downstairs counterparts. A king-sized mattress sat on the floor, made up in navy blue sheets, and he crouched to lower her onto it.

“Thanks for the lift.”

“I didn’t want to give you time to change your mind.” He straightened and glanced around the room. “Hang on for one second.”

She watched with an affection-clogged throat as he rooted through a cardboard box to retrieve four jar candles and a box of matches. He spread them on the floor around the mattress and struck a match to light them.

“There you go,” he announced as he switched off the light. “Romance.”

“Very nice.”

Kepler crossed the room and dropped down beside her on the mattress. She could feel the heat of his body, the light, tingling tickle of the hair on his leg as his calf brushed past hers. She knew what was coming next, and her stomach clenched in anticipation.

“Part of me wants to ask what made you reconsider. To assure myself you won’t change your mind and run out on me,” he murmured, his face close as he slid his hand over hers. He guided her hand out of her lap and onto his thigh, running it up the thick material of his baggy shorts toward the zipper.

“But another, louder part is telling me to make love to you until you scream right now and ask questions later.”

He pressed her palm against his erection to punctuate his words, and she gasped. Heat flooded her veins as an answering throb began to make itself known at the apex of her thighs.

She swallowed. “I think you need to go with your gut on this one.”

And then he was on her, pulling her onto the mattress as his mouth found hers hungrily, his hand fisting in the hair at the nape of her neck. She parted her lips and eagerly returned his attentions, her jaw working as she sought to taste every nook and cranny.