way, but I thought I could spot that underlying technique a couple of times. Your freestyle was amazing and I totally want to raid your moves. I’ve not seen a girl break the way you do. We need some edge and you definitely have it.’
Wow. No one had ever said she had ‘edge’ before. Then again, no one had seen her dance in years. She’d gone into that all but empty stadium today and just given it everything. And she’d done it.
Elation added to the excitement that had already been flooding her. She couldn’t resist glancing at the tall, dark torment now standing a few paces behind Chelsea. But in the split second she looked, she saw the naked emotion on his face.
Anger.
His thunderous expression momentarily crushed her mood. Why did he look so bothered?
‘I’ll leave these pills for you here.’ He brushed past Chelsea and brusquely put a small pill pack on the edge of the table. He left the room faster than a streaker ran the length of the pitch in an international match.
‘Hottest thing on two legs, isn’t he?’ said Chelsea a few seconds after he’d shut the door one decibel short of a slam.
‘I’m sorry?’ Roxie blinked, still absorbing his massive mood swing.
‘Gabe,’ Chelsea explained. ‘Hotter than any of those players. Fit plus brains plus wads of old money.’
‘Really?’ Roxie hoped her suddenly ravenous curiosity wasn’t too obvious.
‘Yeah but don’t bother looking. See how he shot out of here the second he could?’
Roxie just nodded.
Chelsea sighed almost sadly. ‘He used to be so outrageous, dated a different woman every night. Absolute slayer.’
Roxie carefully picked up the tube of cream he’d left on the narrow bed beside her and concentrated extra hard on screwing the cap back on. ‘What changed that?’
‘His ex Diana went crazy for him. Literally crazy.’ Chelsea stepped nearer, her bubbly voice dropping conspiratorially. ‘She was a dancer here, they didn’t even date all that long but she tried to move in on him. I mean, she really did move in one weekend when he was away. It almost got to restraining-order point, but she had a breakdown and her family got her some help.’ Chelsea looked awkward about sharing the info, but she talked on anyway. ‘It wasn’t his fault, she was delusional. Everyone knows he’s never going to put one of these on a girl’s finger.’ Chelsea waggled the fingers of her left hand, and the flash of her massive diamond engagement ring temporarily blinded Roxie. ‘Gabe’s a playboy to the grave. Or he was. Now he’s a repressed playboy.’ Chelsea frowned and fixed Roxie in place with a searching look. ‘When he smiles—too rare these days—all females instantly melt. There’s not a woman in the world who wouldn’t fancy him.’
Roxie knew denial would be too revealing and Chelsea was looking as if she could see straight through her anyway. ‘Well, he is very attractive.’
‘Yeah, but he’s unattainable,’ Chelsea warned. ‘Which makes him all the more attractive to so many women.’ She half laughed and then instantly sobered. ‘But don’t waste your time. He’s signed off from the game. Look, I’ve been with my man so long the others call me matron, but I still know how it works in this place—you get a bunch of fit guys together with a bunch of fit girls and it’s all going to happen. There are twenty-odd gorgeous young things on that team who’d love to play. So if you want, go for it with one of them, just be sure to play safe.’
Roxie swallowed and stood up from the bed, letting her hair fall forward so the blush in her cheeks wouldn’t be so obvious. Now probably wasn’t the time to admit she’d never played at all—well, not all the way through a game. And she hadn’t looked twice at any of the players—but their doctor? She stepped to get the pills so Chelsea couldn’t see her face as she asked, ‘Why did that girl go so crazy for Gabe?’
‘You’ve got eyes, right?’
‘Yeah, but sometimes good-lookers don’t think they have to make any effort.’ She’d read that in a magazine. She turned to get Chelsea’s answer.
‘Rumour has it his technique is even better than his body. I don’t know the truth of that myself but I’d believe it.’ Chelsea looked worried. ‘Look, so many girls have tried it with him and failed in the last few months since Diana. Save yourself the humiliation—I’ve seen them fall but he rejects harshly and then they resign. I don’t want to lose another dancer, especially one as interesting as you, so please don’t go after him.’
Roxie laughed—she’d never gone after a guy in her life; she wouldn’t know where to start. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t.’
And she didn’t want to jeopardise her spot on the Blades—she’d wanted that for too long. But a part deep inside her flamed because Gabe had wanted to kiss her. She might not be all that experienced but she’d known that. Which meant he wasn’t entirely unattainable. Oh, yes, temptation whispered—tantalising her with the fantasy. She wanted that experience—to finally take a lover and a damn good one. If Gabe was that great, couldn’t he be the one to do it all with? Clearly he didn’t want commitment—none of that lovelorn, clinging stuff. But nor did she. She had no intention of being pulled into a relationship. Her freedom had been a long time in coming and she wasn’t giving it up for anyone.
Hours later, as he drove to his new home Gabe rationalised. It didn’t matter, the Blades only rehearsed on site once a week and he was well used to avoiding them at that time anyway. She’d be there during the games, but he was busy with the boys for all that time. He didn’t attend the after-match functions at the home stadium as a rule now. So while he might glimpse her every now and then, that would be it. He could live with that for just this season. Sure he could.
But when he got to the Treehouse he couldn’t help looking at the window above the garage. The curtain wasn’t drawn; there was no sign of life. The garage was locked but a wall of boxes blocked the back window so he couldn’t see if a car was parked in there. He had no way of knowing whether she was home or not. Unless he knocked on her door.
The tablets he’d given her could cause drowsiness. He sighed. So what? That was no reason to bother. She’d be fine. Only there were probably druggies and vagrants in that park in the dark of the night. And she was on the edge of it, alone. In a room above a rickety garage that had to be the size of a postage stamp. Yeah, the niggle turned into a nag and then into a frankly disturbing level of worry. The only way to get rid of it was to see her for himself and thus be sure she was okay. And that was the only reason he wanted to see her. Medical—a professional capacity. But he wasn’t her doctor or anything. He was determined not to be that. A concerned acquaintance?
Oh, bugger it. He thumped up the stairs, hoping to make enough noise to ensure she’d hear his arrival. He rapped hard on the door. Rapped harder. Shouted out her name. It was at the point when he was considering smashing the lock that he heard a grumbling response.
Finally the door swung open.
At first all he saw was the tee shirt. Less than a second later realised that all she wore was the tee shirt. Cute, cotton, white thing. Maybe there were knickers, but maybe not. His tongue gummed to the roof of his mouth.
‘Is everything okay?’ Drowsily she tucked her hair back behind her ears.
‘That’s what I was coming to ask
