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any of her father’s charm. Shit! She looked even sexier with that new hair colour. Red suited her. Ryan guessed it matched her temperament, which probably meant she was shit-hot in the bedroom – Jesus; he had to quit thinking like that. It wasn’t easy, though. This was one tough girl with attitude that Ryan was suddenly pretty desperate to get closer to. Even if it meant enduring a few more kicks in the teeth. Maybe that’s what she got off on.
    ‘What’re you smirking at?’ Max asked, sliding his mobile phone back into his jacket pocket.
    ‘Nothing.’
    Max followed Ryan’s gaze. ‘Right,’ he sighed. ‘Best leave well alone there, kiddo. She’ll eat you for breakfast.’
    ‘Yeah,’ Ryan grinned. ‘That’s what I’m hoping for.’
    ‘For fuck’s sake…’ Max sighed again, rolling his eyes. ‘Come on. Focus, for at least five minutes then you’re out of here. Although, Christ knows I’d feel more comfortable if you were being chaperoned twenty-four hours a day.’
    ‘If they looked like that…’ Ryan smirked, indicating Amber as she laughed at something Ronnie White said to her, ‘… they can chaperone me all they like.’
    ‘I thought it was hate at first sight with you two,’ Max said, guiding Ryan towards another local sports reporter who wanted a quick word.
    ‘Hey, I never said I hated her. I hated being ignored by her. That’s different.’
    ‘You hate being ignored, full-stop. Now, turn on the charm and do what you’re here to do. The sooner we get this out of the way, the sooner we can all go home.’
     
    *
     
    Amber smiled and waved at a fellow sports reporter she knew from a local radio station as he made his way out of the training ground. He’d had his five minutes with Ryan Fisher, whereas Amber had yet to approach him. It just wasn’t something she was particularly keen to do, even though it was the reason she was there. She’d spoken to a couple of the other players to see how they felt about their new team-mate, but so far she hadn’t set foot near the man himself.
    ‘I think I know why you don’t want to go near him,’ Ronnie said, leaning nonchalantly against a wall, his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his more-than-likely stupidly expensive designer jeans. He was a footballer, after all.  
    ‘Do enlighten me with your theory, then,’ Amber sighed, watching from across the other side of the pitch as Ryan Fisher charmed the pants off another female reporter. It was quite a sight to see. He almost had it down to an art form.
    ‘You fancy the arse off him.’
    Amber swung round and fixed Ronnie with a stare that would kill, given half a chance. ‘Sorry? Did you just accuse me of fancying the arse off Ryan Fisher?’
    Ronnie shrugged. ‘It’s obvious.’
    ‘Oh, is it? Care to fill me in on how you came to that conclusion?’
    ‘How many footballers have you been around, Amber?’
    She said nothing for a second, aware that she still had to talk to Ryan at some point before he disappeared off to do whatever it was footballers did for the rest of their days once training was finished, otherwise Kevin would doubtless have something to say.  
    ‘Loads,’ Amber replied, checking her watch before looking over at Alec, her cameraman.
    ‘Okay. So, how many of them have you deliberately avoided talking to? For any reason.’
    She looked at Ronnie again, narrowing her eyes. ‘None. And what the hell are you talking about?’
    ‘You fancy him. Come on, Amber. You said yourself you avoid relationships with footballers, but you’ve never actually avoided talking to any of them, especially not in a professional capacity. But look at you! Even you know you’re actually looking for an excuse not to go over to him. Am I right? Or am I right?’
    Amber gave Ronnie one last glare through still-narrowed eyes, turned on her heels, and strode purposefully over to where Ryan Fisher was busy talking to his agent.
    ‘Have you got a couple of minutes to say a few words