Team Tomás (The Saints Team #2) by Ally Adams Page B

squeeze and I gave
him one of those smiles that said “you’re adorable—but don’t hurt my best
friend because I am in charge of the Saints’ Facebook page”. Amazing how much
one expression can hold.
    Kay had taken over at the welcome
desk and Sasha swanned past and nudged me. “Show off,” she said.
    “What?”
    “Friends with the legend, hey?” she
said, with a glance to Captain Lucas.
    “You mean... the legend dress
designer?” I asked wide-eyed looking directly at her.
    She laughed. “Yeah right, that you
are. One day, you may just be saying that.”
    A female journalist about my age
wearing a beige suit and dangerously high heels walked up to Sasha and me.
    “Can I have one of those?”she asked,
looking at the press kits in my hand.
    “Of course,” I said, and gave her
one. She looked at my name tag and job title and it wasn’t a friendly look—it
was like the look a carnivore gives a bunny in those National Geographic TV
documentaries.
    “Oh, you got the event coordinator
job; I went for that,” she said. Her lips thinned as she appraised me as though
it was my fault I applied.
    “I was really lucky,” I said.
    “What do you know about soccer?”
she asked.
    I bristled at her rudeness and I
felt Sasha arc up next to me.
    I took a deep breath. “I’m a bit
of a regular at the games.”
    She smirked and raised her chin
defiantly.
    I continued. “But since there’s an
entire management team and several dozen contracted soccer players that know a
lot about soccer, they don’t really look to me for advice on the game, they
just needed someone who can do events.”
    Her smirk soured and she turned
and walked away. I exhaled.
    “Good for you! That was great. What
a cow,” Sasha said. “Lucky she moved on, I was just about to see what soccer
skills she had and it wouldn’t have been pretty.”
    Sasha’s loyalty was comforting
especially given it was only my first week. We went our own ways and I grabbed
my camera to take some photos for the social media pages.
    And then I saw him arrive; super-boot
Tomás Carrera was in the building—oh be still my beating heart. His eyes
searched me out and widened on finding me. The look he gave me undressed me
there and then; I’m sure I went three shades of red.
    I cleared my throat and returned
the greeting to the journalist in front of me, offering him the last press kit
I was holding. I returned to the welcome desk to help Kay. Tomás moved in front
of me.
    “Hello Al...iss.” He smiled. “You
look lovely today.” His gaze ran down my body.
    “Tomás, it’s good to see you
again,” I said, as if we were strangers passing in a room full of strangers.
    He moved closer to my ear. “Are
you really panty-free because I will be checking up later?”
    I swallowed and nodded at him, and
he grinned.
    “Well done. I want to touch you,”
he said into my ear which sounded even hotter with a Spanish accent.
    I saw The Russian walking towards
us. He was doing both of his roles—club security and appearing as a Saints’
player—worth every cent that man. He eyed up his teammate Tomás.
    “Is this guy hassling you, Alice?
Do you want me to move him along?” The Russian said, his smile twitching
slightly. He crossed his enormous arms over his bountiful chest.
    “Um, yes, he is distracting me
Russian. If you could move him along that would be much appreciated,” I said,
deliberately fluttering my eyelashes at him.
    “Oh please,” Tomás said, “you and
whose army, Russian?”
    The other half of the security
team, Ed, wandered over. “The Russian army?” he suggested.
    “I wasn’t going to get my hands
dirty, as I’m the manager. Ed, throw this gate-crasher out,” The Russian said
to Ed.
    Ed rolled his eyes. “You see what
I put up with every day and that office is so small.” He hit Tomás on the back
in a casual greeting.
    “How’s the ankle, Ed?” Tomás asked
the wiry defender, and I took the opportunity to sneak away and get back