Team Lucas (The Saints Team #1) Page 3

  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.

  “What now?”

  “Have you actually moved in?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

  I frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean are you living here like full-time?”

  “Yes.” I cocked my head on the side, trying to read him.

  “There’s nothing around. Where’s your stuff?” He stood with his hands out.

  “I’m clean. I like a minimalist area. Although a splash of color wouldn’t go astray,” I added. “Like blood red...”

  “Right.” He glanced at my towel-covered breasts, turned and in the same fashion as before, stormed out yelling, “Meet me at the car in ten minutes.”

  I waited a moment before dropping my towel again but he had definitely gone. I secretly danced with delight. I was going to training to see behind the scenes of a national sporting team and get work experience with them! I had done work experience each year but never with a client at this level of professionalism. This was good, so good. And the best thing, and it was a big one, was, I would be surrounded by super fit, super talented, super rich maybe, sports stars. Ah there is a God! I put on a clean set of workout gear, brushed and re-tied my hair in a high pony tail and checked myself out—yep presentable, even pretty hot if I’m not standing next to a supermodel.

  I grabbed my bag and raced to the door. Lucas was already in the car revving it up. I raced around and opened the door, sliding into the front seat beside him. Pickle and preserve me now because I had never been in a car that cost half a million dollars before and I wanted to remember this moment forever.

  “Seatbelt,” Lucas barked.

&
nbsp; I reached for it in slow motion; I wanted to appreciate every second of this amazing experience. My brother would want to know about this—he was a ‘surprise’ baby and six years younger than me. At fifteen, all he thought about was cars and girls. Same as most guys my age I suddenly realized.

  Lucas pulled out of the driveway and down the road towards the gated area which seemed superfluous to me given the beach access.

  “Training is Monday, Wednesday and Friday at four-thirty at our club. Be ready,” he barked.

  “Got it,” I said. “Only three sessions a week? Seems light on for a sports superstar.”

  “The other days we do weights at a gym or train at different location,” Lucas said, using a tone that implied it was information already provided in the Minding Lucas Manual which I never got.

  As soon as he cleared the gate and waved to the security guy, Lucas took off at some incredible speed.

  “Holy, shit slow down!” I gripped anything I could.

  Lucas grinned. “You don’t drive a Lamborghini to drive slowly, sweetheart.”

  “Call me sweetheart again and you won’t be able to drive a Lamborghini or any car,” I said, between short breaths. I pushed back into the seat as far as I could, my knuckles white as I held on.

  "Don’t worry, the steering in this baby is so precise and the brakes so touchy, we can handle a bit of speed,” he boasted.

  Everything passed in a blur of light and speed. We stopped at a red light and he glanced over at my now probably very pale face. I looked around the car—my side, his side and behind.

  “What?” he asked.

  “We were going so fast I expected the pit crew to come out and change the tires when we stopped.”

  He put his head back and roared with laughter. I couldn’t help but stare—that was the first time I heard him laugh. I’d only known smirks and scowls to date. I had little time to appreciate it as we took off again with the green light and he weaved his way to the club. We did the twenty mile trip in well under twenty minutes.

  I got out and he locked up.

  “This way,” he ordered, racing in to avoid the fans running towards him. I could barely keep up. We headed into the back rooms.

  “Hello Mia,” Nik said as we passed the team’s dressing room and Nik appeared in the door in all his German glory.

  “Hi Nik.” I gave him an appreciative smile; he earned it just for being Nik.

  “Hi Nik, c’mon Mia,” Lucas called.

  I rolled my eyes and Nik laughed. I raced to catch up with Lucas. He entered a large room where a handsome guy—probably around forty, with salt and pepper hair—was studying a young player’s leg. Nice leg. Another guy not much older than me was filling an inflatable pool with ice.

  “Doc, lads,” Lucas addressed them and they looked up and welcomed him. The young player getting worked on gave Lucas a hero-worshiping look.

  “This is Minder... ah... Mia,” Lucas corrected himself. He pointed to the men and named each one: the senior man was Doctor Chris Goforth; the pool ice filler Andy Mannering; and the hero-worshipping player on the bench was Harry Darr.

  “How’s the leg, Harry?” Lucas asked.

  “Better, much better. It’ll be fine for the game, won’t it Doc?” He looked sideways to Chris.

  “I think you’ll be right to cause some havoc,” the doctor agreed. “Just try not to be too overzealous in pre-season training.”

  “Excellent. See you in two hours, Mia,” Lucas called, leaving me there feeling like a new kid on the first day of school.

  “Last year of study, huh?” Doc asked. “Where have you done your clinics?

  “Yep, last year. I had six weeks with the Raiders—the ladies’ basketball team, and I did a clinic with the local public hospital, but I really want to be sports focused.”

  “That’s great,” the doc said, “good for you.” He moved away from his patient. “There you go, Harry, better get to training.”

  “Thanks Doc.” He sat up, and gave me a smile before he headed out... must have thought I was going to put in a good word for him with Lucas.

  “Right then.” Chris the doc turned to me. “Let’s go and watch training for a bit.”

  I tagged along feeling like a third wheel, something I was becoming particularly used to. We sat in the grandstand and Lucas transformed in front of my eyes. He went from being gorgeous and full of himself to gorgeous and so talented and caring of his team. He worked with the younger team members and gave them encouragement, stirred up the older ones; and, practiced his own skills—he was amazing out there. Once or twice he looked up at the stands where I sat and luckily I was watching just in case he was going to pull out a report card on the way home. It was so great to be even a third wheel here—just to see it first hand and sit next to the team doctor, not to mention drive home with the captain!

  “Duck,” a loud voice yelled and the doc swiftly intercepted a ball coming our way and sent it back.

  “You’ve done this before?” I teased him.

  “Played a bit of soccer in my day.” He smiled.

  “Oh no.” I put my head in my hands. “Don’t tell me—you’re a former national champion and I’ve just made a dick of myself?” I winced.

  “It’s nice to meet someone who is not in awe.” He grinned at me. “Don’t worry about it. How many of these guys have you heard of before?” he nodded to the squad of thirty training.

  I bit my lip before answering. “None; I didn’t even know Lucas,” I confessed.

  The doc laughed. “That’s probably a good thing, and you’ll do just fine. When they finish training, they’ll go to the change rooms and wander in to see us if they need to. If you help Andy with some ice work that will be great.”

  “I’d love to,” I said. “I’m guessing I’ll be tagging along a bit, so I’d appreciate all the experience I can get.”

  “We’d appreciate the extra set of hands,” he said. “Though, you’re the first, um Minder, that Lucas has brought into the inner circle.”

  “Really?” I turned to look at the doc. “He told me they all came to training with him.”

  “Oh no.” Doc laughed. “Mrs. Compton—I think that was her name—showed up here one night to take a sample which just embarrassed him and was uncalled for. She did the same after a game, I believe, but no, he has never brought anyone, let alone introduced them.”

  “Mm, good to know.” And here I was thinking he didn’t like me.

  Chapter 7

  I lay in bed looking at the ceiling, too excited to sleep. I met a lot of the team at training this afternoon; I even worked with some of them. The doc allowed me to assist in conducting an assessment of the midfielder, Josh’s, ease of movement and trust me, he moved just fine. I strapped ankles; examined the team’s defender, Jackson’s, injuries; and, massaged Harry’s leg post-training. The doc was a great mentor; I couldn’t believe my luck. This was the best two week suspension from work I’d ever had and it fitted my theory—everything happens for a reason!

  Plus, drum roll please... Alice and I got invited to a party this weekend—a party at which all of the super league would be attending. I know, right? As it happens Lucas forgot to mention it to me or invite me even though I’d be on the other side of the wall... hmm. It was thanks to Nik I scored the invitation. As we—being Lucas and I—were leaving training, Nik calls out from the change room, “coming to the party on Friday, Mia?”

  I looked at Lucas who rolled his eyes and explained: “we’re having a pre-season party at my place since we won’t be partying once the season starts.” Lucas put the emphasis on ‘my’ to remind me I was only a guest in the guest wing.

  I tried for one of his scowls to give my smirks a break. I’m pretty sure I pulled it off.

  “You can come if you want,” Lucas said.

  “Great, see you there, Mia,” Nik called and gave Lucas a wave. He was a few years older than Lucas and not intimidated by him. Plus he w
as German; he didn’t look like he’d be intimated by anyone. He called again with an afterthought: “maybe you could bring some girlfriends if Lucas has room for more?”

  “Why not?” Lucas sighed.

  “Thanks, I will,” I said. “But they’re not models.”

  “Even better,” Nik said, departing into the dressing room. I liked that tall, handsome German man. So nice.

  “Earth to minder.” Lucas snapped his fingers in my face as I stared after Nik.

  “What Puke? Sorry, Luke?” I snapped back at him and earned one of his sexy scowls. It was almost worth antagonizing him just to get one.

  “We’re out of here,” he said, throwing his sports bag over his shoulder. We stopped out the front so he could sign some autographs for fans who had been waiting. Boy did he turn on the charm! You wouldn’t recognize him. Then we drove home, if you could call it driving... more like flying in his Lamborghini.

  “This Friday night, at the party,” Lucas said to me on the way home. “Leave your testing kit in your room.”

  “As if I would bring that out in front of your friends or anyone and embarrass you! Gee I might think you’re a total bighead but I wouldn’t humiliate you.”

  “Yeah thanks, I think.” He frowned. “Some of the others did.”

  “Really?” I asked, surprised. “That’s not on.”

  Lucas shrugged but I knew it pissed him off. His jaw was locked and his grip on the steering wheel would have crushed a lesser vehicle.

  “One of them walked into the dressing room right after our first pre-season game, after I’d given the guys the well-done pep talk, and demanded a blood sample in front of all of them.” Lucas shook his head. “Pretty hard to get team respect when that shit happens.”

  “I won’t do that. I promise,” I said.

  “Right. And at the party, just be careful—the guys can get a bit full on after a few drinks and they’re used to getting their way with women who pretty much throw themselves at them anyway. So if you don’t want that... you know... don’t go there...”