“I convinced him to wait,” Thomas said in his understated way. “I reminded him of the game last year against Liverpool and how you got a penalty to keep them from scoring to win. He made a lot of money that game.”
“Thank you, Thomas. I appreciate you looking out for me.” Because Thomas was the one person standing between him and disaster, he said, “Can I send something for your son? Maybe a football signed by the team?”
“There’s no need,” Thomas said, his voice lifting in pleasure, contradicting his words.
“To say thank you.”
“It’s not necessary—”
“I insist,” Danny said, knowing how the British worked. He’d ask his manager to take care of that immediately, and to send tickets to the next home game to everyone in the building.
“He would like that, thank you,” Thomas said graciously. “But the next time there’s too much noise, if someone complains, I will have to call the police. You’ve already exceeded the number of warnings.”
He rubbed his forehead again. “I understand. I’ll take care of it.” He murmured goodbye and hung up.
He needed to get his house in order. He had to get everyone out of his flat before something really went wrong. Ortiz hadn’t contacted him in the past couple days, but Danny could feel his best friend wondering what was going on.
He’d feel like absolute shit if something happened to Ortiz.
He had to get Kofi away from those people too. Danny had been around teammates who’d picked bad paths and ended up ruining their lives. He didn’t want that to happen to Kofi. The kid had a lot of potential.
Great—and now instead of being excited about his date with Jules, he was worried about everything else. “Shit,” he muttered, tucking his phone into his pocket. Sitting in the hotel room wasn’t going to help. He’d just go early, order himself a whiskey, and chill until she arrived.
The weather sucked, so getting a cab proved difficult. Danny didn’t mind because the cold wind cooled his temper down. Hands in his pockets, he waited patiently, chatting idly with the doorman.
The cab driver got him to the restaurant in good time. As he got out of the taxi, he looked the place over. There was no sign out front, which meant to him that it was a little upscale. The lighting inside was dim and romantic, which meant it’d be a little incognito.
In London, if he went out to dinner, he had to be prepared to be mobbed. At the nicer restaurants, patrons were a little more respectful, but he was still noticed. He usually didn’t mind—usually when he went out it was with his teammates. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone out with a woman where he didn’t want anything to distract him from her.
Tonight was different. Tonight he wanted it to be only him and Jules.
He went inside and gave Jules’ name. The hostess told him Jules wasn’t there yet, but she seated him, leaving him a drink menu. When his waiter came over, he ordered a whiskey and sat back to wait, trying to let the rest of the phone call ease away.
It wasn’t working. The more he tried to push it aside, the more worried he got. He got his phone out and texted Kofi to check on him.
He set his phone on the table, waiting for an answer.
He felt it the moment she pulled up to the restaurant. It made no logical sense that he’d know it was her, but then the door popped open and her long legs slid out.
He’d recognize those legs anywhere.
He watched her head to the front door, all business.
He glanced at his phone, tempted to leave it out. But he thought that was rude, and who knew when Kofi would get back to him, so he tucked it away in his suit pocket. Then he tried to shake it off so he could be present for Jules.
She stopped to talk to the hostess, who pointed her in his direction. She came to him, her gaze on his, and some of his tension melted away.
Standing, he pulled out the chair next to his for her. She looked as incredible as she had that morning, her hair still perfect and her face flawless.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” she said as she got to the table.
“I was early,” he assured her, remembering that she didn’t like being late. He leaned in to kiss her cheek, lingering there because he liked the way she smelled so much. But then he saw the way her face was tipped up to him, her lipsright there, and before he could talk himself into reason, he lowered his mouth to hers for a brief kiss.
It was the soft gasp that she uttered that broke the rest of his funk away. He kissed her again, leisurely, just to hear it again—just to feel the hint of her excitement against his lips. It made him feel like everything was right in his world.
Her cheeks went the slightest bit pink as she looked up at him. Then her eyebrows pinched together. “What’s wrong?”
He blinked. “You can tell?”