Striker's Waltz (Seattle Sound Series Book 6) Read online

“My father seduced Lucia Arandas, the impossibly beautiful girl from the villa miseria. That’s one of the slums near Buenos Aires.”

  “Oh-kay.” I drew out the word. I clearly missed something because I didn’t see the dots from his dad’s affair to marrying a woman he didn’t love.

  “This gets us to the reason I turned you down last weekend. I don’t date.”

  Teo pressed his lips together. “Lucia could not conceive again. As their only child, there have been expectations. High expectations from my mother. I quit trying to meet them around age six when my father stayed home more. We spent time together, though my mother tried to get me to do activities with her instead. I remember a fight I overheard.” He sighed, leaning his head back against the sofa. “She said my father bought my love, just as he bought the love of his female companions. That I would prefer to be with her.”

  I touched his hand, needing to offer some comfort to the child’s feelings still buried within this beautiful man. “I ran into the room, threw myself on my father, begging him not to leave me.”

  “That didn’t go over well,” I said.

  Teo shook his head. “My mother’s face turned chalk white. She said if I didn’t want her, she’d leave. She did. I don’t know where she went for the next few months, but my father finally dragged her home, and she was a mess.” He met my gaze. “She’d become an alcoholic.”

  I wrapped my fingers more tightly around his warm hand. He turned it over so our palms meshed.

  “Living with the disease is difficult. She’s been in and out of rehab programs for years, but she can’t stay sober. My father blames himself.”

  “Why?”

  “Same reason I do. My mother is difficult to be around, always needing everyone to prove their love. She’s told me many times she hates me. That I ruined her life. That’s when I turned to soccer. It was an outlet for all the terrible emotions in our house.”

  “So, he stayed with your mother? Er, Lucia?”

  “Unhappily, and not so much for the business as for me—at least when I was young. He worked to build up other businesses, but the soccer club’s been his passion, his place to help so many young men like him.”

  “And your mother is okay with the fact he cheated on her?”

  “No, she’s never been happy about that.” Teo’s cheek bones stood out in stark relief. “That’s why she drinks.”

  Teo dropped his head deep between his shoulders, his fingers lacing at the back of his neck. He lifted his head to met my gaze. “I may not agree with my father’s decisions—I don’t, in fact. But I hate being the reason my parents are unhappy.”

  “How are you responsible for their unhappiness?”

  “I’m not. She’s responsible for mine. When I started my career, I met a girl after a match. Vivi. She was from a poor neighborhood.” He looked around, searching for something to steady him. “My mother found out and told me she’d tell all the papers about my girlfriend’s ‘trash family.’ If I quit seeing her, my mom guaranteed she’d move them into a better house, pay her tuition. I cared about Vivi—not enough to marry her, then, which I considered briefly—but I didn’t want her hurt because of me. So, I agreed. I also accepted an offer to go to Real Madrid.”

  “What happened to Vivi?”

  Teo smiled, fondness lighting his face. “She finished medical school and works in some of the roughest neighborhoods in Buenos Aires, helping women like her mother.”

  “Do you talk to her? Still?”

  Confusion and even some jealousy filled me at the thought of Teo talking to his former lover. I didn’t have experience with such a situation.

  “Sometimes. Her younger sister, Mariana—the red head—was my sports therapist.”

  I digested this newest bit of information. “Why her?”

  Teo shrugged. “She’s someone I can trust.” He leaned in so that his lips whispered across mine once. Just once. “Enough talk for now, yes? I want to kiss you again, Preslee.”

  I met his gaze, enjoying the smoldering passion building there. “Yes, please.”

  His mouth returned to settle over mine, his lips gliding back and forth in gentle swipes until he settled me against his chest and deepened the kiss. His lips sought my passion, but he also sought forgiveness. He raised his head, his hands wandering down my back.

  “I plan to enjoy each moment of this time with you.”

  Brenna sat at the breakfast bar when I entered our condo an hour later. Her eyes darkened and her scowl turned to a hurt expression. “Really? Do you care—at all—that I’ve been worried about you?”

  Brenna cut me earlier with her comments about Teo wanting me for easy sex, so I ignored her texts. But Brenna looked so anxious now, I hugged her.

  “I’m sorry, Bren. I should’ve been more thoughtful of your feelings. I’m fine. I’m home, all in one piece and it’s barely eleven.” I frowned, considering the man Teo saw trailing us.

  “What’s wrong?”

  I shrugged, unwilling to fall into that pit of unrelenting fear as I had for years. In some ways, I still did. I refused to pursue singing because I feared Oren’s retaliation. I declined all attention after he gave that exposé about my partying and loose, immoral living.

  “Does this have something to do with Oren?”

  I sighed, wishing Brenna didn’t know me so well. I plugged my phone into the charger on the counter, needing something—anything—to do with the built up restlessness.

  “Teo saw someone.” I swallowed. “Following us. And I played solo tonight.”

  Brenna laid her hand over mine. “Which Oren warned you about.”

  I nodded. “And Teo’s famous.”

  Matteo Cruz’s entire persona, indeed his livelihood, depended on public perception. I wore his jersey while I performed and people took his picture or asked for his autograph at the restaurant. Another something to consider. Speculation about our relationship status skyrocketed immediately after last weekend’s bar debacle.

  Why hadn’t I thought any of this through?

  “Is he worth it?” Brenna’s voice was quiet. “The fear you’re feeling now—the second-guessing—I don’t get it, Pres. Why now? Why him?”

  I sucked my lip, worry warring with my desire. Teo made me feel safe even as he brought my body to levels of passion I never felt before—all from the touch of our lips. Yeah, I wanted to explore that more. Even if…I swallowed hard…even though he was an athlete. An internationally famous one.

  More than likely, Oren had moved on, forgetting his vendetta against me. My fear was simply based on past experiences.

  “I like him.”

  She stood abruptly and practically threw her teacup into the sink.

  “Will this go anywhere? I read he might get traded to Milan. While worrying about you since you didn’t even answer my texts.”

  I set my purse down in the bar chair.

  “He took me to dinner. We talked. That’s a distinct possibility.” I bit my lip, hating how jumbled my feelings were. I wanted Teo—no doubts there—but the idea of him leaving hurt. And if the pain was this intense now, how could it not be worse if I spent more time with him?

  “So, he’s taking up with you now but will dump you as soon as he gets the call? Are you a consolation prize?”

  “Excuse me?”

  Brenna was on a roll and ignored my tone and my indignation. “You’re behaving just like your mom did, Pres. You’re letting your desires blind you to all the reasons this situation is wrong.”

  Of all the things Brenna could have said to me, she chose the most hurtful. I swallowed hard to keep the bile from spewing up my throat yet again. Love didn’t mean a free pass. Actions still inspired consequences. Like my mom leaving her two daughters to start a new life with my father. Leaving those little girls alone for weeks because she feared their anger over the way she’d left.

  Mom had been right to worry. Lia, my oldest half sister, still hadn’t forgiven our mother. Not that I could blame either Lia or Br
iar. They’d almost starved waiting for my mother to collect them.

  All the while, my brothers and I had lived, full-bellied and well-loved in a nice Seattle neighborhood.

  Brenna hammered the point home when she flung her final salvo over her shoulder.

  “What happens when Oren sees the papers? You know he’ll lose his shit.”

  She slammed her bedroom door as I sank to the couch, forced to sit on my trembling hands.

  13

  Teo

  “I didn’t have a choice,” I bit out, irritation fueling my tone.

  “There’s always a choice, Matteo.” Roberto, my agent, sighed long and loud, to make a point about his irritation with me.

  “Not once Mariana said she planned to call Coach and speak with him.”

  “That’s what seduction is for.”

  I curled my lip. “Mariana is like a sister to me.”

  “And that’s why I’m scrambling to pick up the pieces. Because you didn’t have the balls to keep your therapist quiet.”

  My phone pinged, and I glanced at the screen.

  I’m not sure dating is a good idea.

  Disappointment crashed through me when I read the text. Brenna’s beady-eyed glares came to mind. As soon as Preslee left, her friend must have pounced, adding to the doubt I’d sowed by turning her away last weekend. Not that I could blame Preslee for her doubts. Mierda, I collected them, too. Which was why I’d tried—and failed—to stay away from her.

  “I have to go,” I said.

  “I’m not finished going over your choices,” Roberto barked back.

  “So far my choice is taking less money to go to Milan.”

  “Because that may be the best we can hope for at this point.”

  “Then make that best happen.”

  Roberto made a disgruntled sound, but I’d already pressed End. I read Preslee’s message again, my heart sinking.

  She was the one bright spot in being forced to play in the US. I didn’t want to lose her, too.

  I called her back.

  “Can we talk about this?” I said after her tentative hello.

  “I knew I couldn’t resist you if I heard your voice. That’s why I texted.”

  Even those quiet words made my blood burn. The more time I spent with Preslee, the harder I found it to shake loose of her spell.

  “I don’t want to pressure you, Preslee.” I sighed. “Actually, yeah. I do. Letting you leave earlier proved difficult.” I clenched my free fist so I wouldn’t press my hand against my straining zipper.

  “Brenna thinks you’re playing me.” She hesitated, perhaps debating what to say. “Using me for some deeper purpose.”

  “Is that what you think?”

  She remained quiet for a long moment. Maybe she wouldn’t answer. Maybe I wouldn’t like the answer she gave.

  “I think, after tonight, I’d always regret not giving us a chance.”

  I leaned back on my couch, trying to get comfortable. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

  “I finish rehearsals at four.”

  “I want to take you out.”

  “On a date?”

  “I don’t date, haven’t you heard?”

  “Then what are we doing?” Her panic blasted through the phone’s speaker.

  My lips flipped up into a grin that must be too predatory to be legal. Oh, I liked Preslee flustered. “More than dating.”

  “I don’t know what that means.” Her voice took on a breathless quality that made me shift, trying to ease the ache in my groin.

  “Right now, it means I’m taking you out on a date tomorrow. And then I want to bring you back to my place. For more than a long, difficult talk and a few kisses, no matter how mind-blowing. You left too soon. I want you, Preslee. All of you. Tomorrow.”

  My smile broadened at the little whimper that slid through the phone. Perfect. She thought about me, just as I fixated on her. I clamped down hard on my teeth, refusing to ask her to come back up to my place. My months of celibacy were catching up with me. Fast.

  She hesitated, and I wondered if she wanted to say more. When the silence drew out, I said, “It’s getting late. Practice starts early. But I’m going to sleep better knowing I’ll spend hours with you tomorrow.”

  “I’m looking forward to it.”

  “Dream sweet, dulzura.”

  “What does that mean?”

  I smiled. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

  “Fine.” She sighed. “I’ll see you tomorrow night. For our date.”

  “Our second date,” I said. “And that you will.”

  I clicked off the phone and pressed the edge of the case to my lips, eyes narrowed in thought. Nodding at the strategy, I stood, stretched, and sauntered toward my bedroom, happier than I’d been in months.

  I poked my head into Noah’s office. “I’m taking your sister to dinner tonight.”

  He held up a finger then waved me in, showing me the phone pressed to his ear.

  “Of course,” he said. “That’s an interesting offer. We’ll look it over once you send the details. No, without it in writing, I’m not sure there’s anything I can do. You do that. Thanks.”

  He hung up and turned toward me, running his hands through his already disheveled brown hair.

  “So…Preslee, dinner. Thanks for the heads-up.”

  “You okay?”

  Noah tipped his head back and rubbed his eyes. “Didn’t get much sleep, what with putting out the fire on the symphony players hurt en route here.” He leaned forward, his eyes darting to the open door. “Can I tell you something in confidence?”

  I shrugged.

  “That was Joel Concha. He’s making a play for our head coach.”

  I sucked the breath through my teeth. Bad news for the Timber organization. Joel ran the front office for one of the biggest teams in Europe—the one I used to play for.

  “Think he’ll go?”

  “He’d be an idiot not to. And Coach isn’t an idiot.”

  I swallowed down the bitterness of my current situation. If only I hadn’t been injured, I’d be there, helping Joel make the decision about the best coach to take over the offensive coordinator position.

  “What are you going to do?”

  Noah leaned back in his chair. “Not really my problem. The GM and owner make that call. I got this initial one to feel out the organization—what we’d need in exchange.”

  Joel Concha always could sniff out talent. My initial surprise at him contacting the Timber dissipated. “A better full-pitch strategist will be difficult to find.”

  Noah leaned back in his chair. “Your name came up. I’d be willing to put in a word for you if you’re interested.”

  My eyes flew up to his. He raised his brows.

  “You know, if you wanted to make Seattle your home base for a while. Settle down a bit.”

  “Noah, I asked your sister to dinner, not to marry me,” I croaked. The vise of public opinion closed in around me.

  “During the season. When you never date.”

  “The season’s gotten longer. Doesn’t leave much down time.”

  His gaze shifted from calculating to eagle-eyed. “You said you cared about Pres. Right?”

  “Obviously.”

  “Then just think about the possibility.” Noah clasped his hands, and leaned in again. “Not many players get to go from player to head. You could do it—the team would be thrilled with the transition. And Jorge’s still got three more years on his contract with us. The pay’s multi-million. It’s an excellent opportunity.”

  “But I couldn’t play.”

  “Professionally? No. But you favored your left leg yesterday during the game. That hamstring isn’t a hundred percent—you told me that yourself, and our trainer agrees. I’m just throwing out an option that could be mutually beneficial.” He narrowed his eyes. “Unless you hurt my sister. Then I’m going to rip your leg off and beat you with it. End of career.”

  We stared at each other
, his gaze full of promises. This is what I got for helping a beautiful woman home from a bar.

  “Hey. Got a minute, Noah?” Pete, the offensive coach, asked. “Oops. Didn’t know you were in here, Teo. I’ll come back.”

  “No.” I stood, my face stoic. I didn’t wince or favor my left side—I couldn’t give Noah anymore ammunition. “We’re done here.”

  “Seems like I stepped in something. I can come back.”

  Noah smiled at Pete and motioned him in. “Teo wants to date my sister.”

  “She’s hot. If I weren’t married, I’d be interested in her.” Pete grinned only to raise his hands and step back when we both turned to scowl at him. “Sorry. Jesus. You two are touchy. Preslee’s a babe. And she has one of the best bicycle kicks I’ve ever seen.”

  “That she does,” Noah said. “She taught my brother and me, but we could never match her. She’s great with the long pass, too.”

  “I bet. I had no idea she played the violin, too,” Pete said.

  “Viola,” I said.

  Noah laughed. “Already got you trained, I see. Have you heard her sing yet?” he asked.

  I shook my head.

  “Maybe it’s best she doesn’t. All my friends were in love with her voice. Pissed me and Nate off no end.”

  I walked to the door, needing some space from Preslee’s loco brother.

  “Enjoy your time tonight,” he called, still laughing.

  It took all my self-control not to flip him off.

  I straightened my tie. I hated wearing anything around my neck—perhaps my dislike of decent clothing came from spending so much of my life in soccer shorts and a tee. But I needed to do this date right. Not only did Preslee deserve a spectacular night out, I needed to own the media’s reaction to us. Nothing wrong with setting the tone I wanted them to pick up on. I was going on offense early to counteract my mother’s inevitable vitriol.

  I cracked my knuckles then knocked. Brenna opened the door. She looked me up and down slowly before she sighed, opening the door farther.

  “Your date’s here, Pres.”

  “Hello, Brenna. How was your day?”

  She shrugged before slouching back to the couch. “You know, the life of a partially employed software engineer.”