I wasn’t a cheater. I would never cheat, but…
Hell. I got swept up in the moment, and getting swept up in moments was the downfall of many a lady.
“I think I have a crush on you,” Jay purred with that mischievous grin I was coming to recognize.
I wagged my finger at him, feeling breathless “That was…that was…”
“Phenomenal, I know.”
“Oh, my goodness, you are cocky,” I blurted, flustered.
“I prefer the term unquietly confident, or loudly self-assured, but cocky works, too,” he said, stepping toward me again. I took a step back. He kept coming at me and I kept moving away until my back hit a wall.
“Hey, I get it. You’re taken, but I couldn’t help myself. You’re a very tempting woman, Janie Morris.”
I laughed then, because no one had ever described me as tempting before. Cute, yes. Chatty, sure. Clever, of course. But never tempting. I was flattered, I couldn’t help it. I liked the way he saw me. He saw me in a way most people didn’t, and it was a tiny bit intoxicating. Okay, a lot intoxicating.
I needed to get a hold of myself, go home to my boyfriend and forget about this mesmerizing man, this magician who had very much cast a spell over me.
And I didn’t even believe in magic.
“You know, it’s too bad I gotta leave and go back to Boston tomorrow. If I was sticking around this boyfriend of yours would have himself some serious competition.”
I giggled, unable to help being charmed. I folded my arms across my chest, probably to keep from grabbing him and kissing him again. It was wrong. I knew that. But Gloria Estefan was right, the bad boys made you feel so good. “I’m sure he would. If I ever come to Boston, I’ll be sure to look you up.”
“And if I ever come back to Chicago, you better believe I’ll be darkening your door, Janie Morris. Your door will be so fucking darkened you won’t know where to turn. Or look.”
That didn’t even make any sense, but I was still laughing. Jay had wacky sense of humor and a funny way with words. He came forward, pressed a soft kiss to my cheek before whispering, “I guess I’ll see you around. Promise you won’t forget about me?”
He was gone before I had a chance to reply. I didn’t see which way he went, but I was suddenly aware of my hair around my shoulders. I reached up, unable to find my hair tie. Why that little…
He’d let my hair down again, and I hadn’t even seen or felt him doing it. His sleight of hand really was up to scratch. That was two hair ties he’d stolen from me now. I was going to have to start keeping a tab.
I definitely didn’t need to make the promise though, because there was no way I’d forget him any time soon.
“There you are,” Marie exclaimed. “It took me forever to convince them to let me come back here and look for you.”
“I was talking to Jay,” I replied, still a little flustered from his kiss and sudden departure – and hair accessory theft.
“Oh, where’d he go? I was hoping to ask him to come for drinks with us. I want to pick his mind about the trick he did with the dove.”
“He’s gone. I’m not sure we’ll be seeing him again, not for a long time anyway.”
Marie seemed disappointed. “Well, that’s too bad.”
“Yeah, it is.”
I had a feeling Jay was one of those people who never settled anywhere. He flittered into your life, left a big impression, and then was gone almost as quickly as he came. Like a fairy god-mother, or a genie in a lamp. Only I never got my three wishes. Just a kiss I’d be dreaming about for many nights to come.
Marie slid her arm through mine. “Come on, let’s go to the bar. The first two lemon drops are on me.”
As she led me through the club, something on the floor caught my eye. It was a piece of torn up newspaper, but when I bent down and picked it up I realized it wasn’t just any old bit of paper. It was the same one Jay had thrown from the stage, the one the was shaped into the words “Be Kind”. Without thinking, I folded it up and put it in my pocket.
He had my hair ties, it was only fair I got to keep a memento of this most unforgettable and magical night, too.
End.
About the Author
L.H. Cosway lives in Dublin, Ireland. Her inspiration to write comes from music. She thinks that imperfect people are the most interesting kind. They tell the best stories.
www.lhcoswayauthor.com
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Also by L.H. Cosway
Contemporary Romance
Painted Faces
Killer Queen
The Nature of Cruelty Still Life with Strings Showmance Fauxmance (coming Autumn 2018)
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The Hearts Series
Six of Hearts (#1)
Hearts of Fire (#2)
King of Hearts (#3) Hearts of Blue (#4) Thief of Hearts (#5) Cross My Heart (#5.75) Hearts on Air (#6)
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The Rugby Series with Penny Reid
The Hooker & the Hermit (#1) The Player & the Pixie (#2) The Cad & the Co-ed (#3) The Varlet & the Voyeur (#4)
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Urban Fantasy
Tegan's Blood (The Ultimate Power Series #1) Tegan's Return (The Ultimate Power Series #2) Tegan's Magic (The Ultimate Power Series #3) Tegan’s Power (The Ultimate Power Series #4)
Cock and Balls
A BRITISH SPORTS ROMANCE
Amy Daws
Only Camden Harris is cocky enough to think he can elope to Scotland with his fiancé, Dr. Indie Porter, and not tick off at least one of his brothers.
Copyright ? 2018 by Amy Daws All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
One
Cocky Teammates
Camden
“Specs!” I shout as I jog across the grass toward my fiancée. She’s in the middle of the Tower Park pitch surrounded by a sea of balls and has her hands all over my brother Booker.
Normally, my woman’s hands on another bloke would send me into a jealous rage. But Specs—aka Dr. Indie Porter—is the assistant team doctor for Bethnal Green F.C., so I kind of have to deal with it.
Bethnal is the football club—or soccer team, as Americans call it—my dad, Vaughn Harris, manages in London. It’s where my younger brother, Booker, and my twin brother, Tanner, play. Last year, I was right beside them until I signed on with Arsenal. Our older brother, Gareth, plays defence for Manchester United. We’re a family of footballers through and through. And even though our sister, Vi, doesn’t play, she’s the loudest fan you’ll hear in the stands at any of our matches.
Needless to say, we all eat, sleep, and breathe football.
That’s why I thought my life was over when I tore my ACL last year. I was caked in mud from a rainy match when they wheeled me into The Royal London Hospital on a stretcher. With my football career at risk, I was feeling the lowest I’d ever felt.
Then a stunning, curly-haired redhead with cheetah-print glasses and a sexy smart mouth waltzed into the exam room, claiming to be a doctor. I thought she was way too young and gorgeous to be a doctor, but it turned out she was my surgeon and a brilliant one at that.
She is way too good for me, which is exactly why I put a ring on her finger several months ago.
“Oi! Get your hands off my brother, you slapper!” I crow as I kick a few stray balls out of the way and reach Indie, who’s hunched over as she stretches out Booker’s hamstring. I rear back my hand and slap my fiancée’s arse with a satisfying crack.
“Ouch, Camden!” Indie squeals. Her hands immediately drop Booker’s leg and fly back to rub her rear end. She turns wide, angry eyes at me that are framed by a pair of red glasses today. “What on earth are you doing? This is my place of work! You can’t come in here and do that!”