Red flags passion player.., p.5
Red Flags (Passion Players), page 5
“You’re being unreasonably hard on me. I’m supposed to be embracing my independence in a fun way, by tearing up this city.”
“Welcome to Chez Charlotte, where everything is off limits.” Charlotte waved her hand around the earth tones and modern decor of the apartment.
Jada went to Charlotte’s closet, her hand gliding over Gucci blazers, dresses by Rickie Freeman for Teri Jon, Retrofête denim, and tunics by Deeba for Wolf & Badger. “This wardrobe is dope.”
“That includes my clothes,” Charlotte said.
Jada dangled a pair of Bottega Veneta inkwell-and-gold high-heeled sandals. “What about—”
“And my shoes.”
“That ain’t even cool,” Jada said.
“Nope. Or fair, or whatever other word you want to use,” Charlotte said. “Every time you come here, you borrow something that I have yet to see again. Plus, I know you have clothes at your mom’s house.”
“I’m high-pitch irate.” She sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes for good measure. “You and Yaya are just alike. No fun.”
“You are going to be living in a Harlem apartment in a prime location, rent-free.” Charlotte waited for Jada to retort. When she didn’t, Charlotte shut down the argument with, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
Jada mimicked her, and Charlotte stifled a laugh.
No matter what Charlotte said to Jada, she knew she’d scroll through social media one day and find her sister from another mother stylin’ in one of her outfits, but Charlotte prayed it wouldn’t be one of the outfits she loved and that Jada would take care of it. Charlotte loved Jada as much as she loved Ayanna, and though the younger sister was a pain in Charlotte’s perfect ass, she’d neither kick her out nor stay mad at her for very long.
Charlotte checked her surroundings, from her tall, floor-potted snake plant that she’d grown from a small cutting to her pops of color from the urban art that covered the wall and her cozy tan couch that was perfect for movies and popcorn with her best friend. “I think I have everything that I need.”
“You sure do,” Jada said, looking at the set of luggage at the door. “If you leave anything behind, I can easily mail it to you.”
“Thanks.” Charlotte checked her phone. “Okay, my ride is here.” Charlotte hugged Jada tight. “Love you. Be good and look in on Mrs. Clements.”
“I got you,” Jada said. “Have fun and give Yaya real-life hugs for me when you see her.”
“I will.”
The driver helped her with her things, and she was on her way to the airport. After a seamless direct flight, Charlotte landed on Irish soil for the first time.
Chapter 5
Eoghan half listened to Ronin and Clive in the back office of the dressing rooms as they discussed the designer for the boots he was waiting for. That was, until the name of the company penetrated through.
“Seam and Sole, did you say?” Eoghan asked. The company name was familiar to him. Why?
“Yes, it’s a company based in Harlem, New York, and owned by a woman named—”
“Charlotte Bowman.” Rich deep-brown skin, gorgeous almost black curls, and a personality that soothed as much as it stung. Four months ago, he’d followed her lead and enjoyed their one night and several hours of the best sex he’d had in a long time. He’d blamed his infatuation with making her come on his lack of opportunity while in the US, which had helped ease the parting. Not to mention the fact that he’d be thousands of miles away in Ireland and back to the life he knew.
“Yeah, Charlotte Bowman,” his agent said. “You know her?”
“Can’t be sure.” Eoghan cleared his throat. “I may have met her in New York.” He hoped his face looked more relaxed than it felt and that the rapid thump of his heart was neither heard nor felt.
“She’s coming here to meet you and gather some information to start her work on customizing yer boots. I’ve seen her designs and her technology. She’s the real deal. Good on you for picking her. She has a smart prototype that will be efficient for training and give her data and feedback to adjust the boot to the perfect fitting for you.”
“English.”
“You get to collaborate with her on the boot. Science and style.”
Eoghan’s brows lifted. He wouldn’t be able to just get the shoe and get on with it. By choosing the best-fit boot, he’d landed himself in a collaborative relationship with his ex-lover. “It was just one night, but . . .”
“Come again?” Ronin asked, his brows knit in curiosity.
Eoghan pursed his lips and shook his head. “When does she get here?”
“Landed this morning and should be here momentarily. Just for a bit of meet and greet.”
Charlotte Bowman was in Ireland?
Eoghan brushed his hand through his hair and pulled down on his rancid jersey. “I can’t meet her like this.”
“You meet everyone else like this.” Ronin shrugged.
“Eejit, why didn’t you tell me who she was,” Eoghan said.
“You said you didn’t want to know names because you didn’t want to be swayed. Remember?” Ronin growled. “What’s the problem now? We discussed this, and you were over the moon.”
Ronin was right. Charlotte was giving him an awesome shoe, one that made him feel supported like a loving embrace. She was a woman business owner of color, and he knew her to be truthful, though brutal, and best friend to his physio, who was now his best mate’s girlfriend. He should still be over the moon, as his agent had reminded him, but instead, his insides felt like they did just before he got out on the pitch for a game—a mix of excitement from the thrill of competition and a little nausea. What did she expect? What did he?
His agent leaned back and studied him. “You know this bure, don’t ya?”
A knock on the door sounded.
“Come in,” Ronin said.
Eoghan shoved him.
“What?” Ronin mouthed.
Charlotte glided through the door, her big Afro leading the way like it always did. A turquoise-and-orange mosaic headband rimmed her head. She was accompanied by Clive, who was engaged in conversation about the stadium and how to get around.
“Oh, that was easy. I’ll take that route to get to the pitch to work with the client,” she said. “I’ll show my assistant when he arrives.”
The client?
Clive fawned over her. “If you need anything at all, just let me know.” He dazzled her with his mustached smile.
“Thank you.” Her full lips were lightly glossed in a pink hue, which only brought out their perfect plump shape. Today, her shimmering lids were gold, as opposed to the smoky, alluring look she’d worn the night they’d gotten together. Now, however, her long mascaraed lashes batted flirtatiously at Clive, or maybe that was just his imagination and all she’d done was blink.
Pull yourself together, man. She’s just a bure.
A bure who wore a rich cobalt-blue suit with perfect press lines. If she’d traveled in this suit, not a wrinkle showed. Her shirt matched her headband, and he tore his eyes away from the deep V that only accentuated her full breasts.
Time seemed not to have changed her allure at all, and just like before, he wanted to stroke her jawline, kiss the soft spot just under her ear, and then pull her into his arms. Not only was he a sap, but he was a sap for a woman who presented an “I’m all about business” aura that made doing the delicious things he’d envisioned doing to her impossible.
“Charlotte, it’s nice to finally meet you in person.” Ronin shook hands with her, and she covered his hand with both of hers.
“You too, Ronin,” she said.
Eoghan knew how warm and delicate her fingertips were running over his skin. He shivered. “Hello, Charlotte.”
“Hello, Eoghan. It’s nice to see you again,” she said as she stopped to stand in front of him. Her white heeled boots made her taller than her five-foot-eight height by about two inches.
“Again?” Clive asked.
Charlotte looked from Eoghan to Ronin. “Yes, we met in New York. I’m friends with Dr. Ayanna Crawford.”
“Oh, really?” Ronin drawled and arched a brow.
“Good to see you again, Charlotte,” Eoghan said.
“Likewise,” she said. Her eyes whipped over his body before she turned to Ronin. “You look different in person.” Eoghan liked the come-hither way she smiled, but preferred she’d quit directing it at Ronin.
“I get that a lot.” Ronin leaned in, and Eoghan wasn’t even sure his agent had a clue he’d been hooked by Charlotte and pulled into her web.
“You’ve gotten settled, then?” Eoghan slapped a hand on Ronin’s shoulder and pushed him to Charlotte’s periphery.
Her smell. He’d never forget the scent of roses and lilies mixed with grounding vanilla. Everywhere on her carried a different fragrance. Her hair smelled like tropical coconut, her skin like sun-kissed citrus, and her clothes were dusted with the florals of her perfume. Even the light scent between her legs had been different, yet they all created a symphony of drugging aromas that he couldn’t resist. Obviously, his agent had also fallen prey to the unique wiles of Charlotte Bowman.
She focused on Eoghan. “Yes. Thank you.” She was as nonchalant as she’d been the last time he’d been in her presence. She’d dismissed him easily as a teacher would a class for recess. Had it not been for the tiny hint of care in her eyes that fled as quickly as it had come, he might have believed her to be emotionless. He wanted to be alone with her to see what version of her he’d be working with.
“Good, good,” Eoghan said and tossed Ronin a look so that he’d get the hint.
“Well, we’ll leave you two to discuss Eoghan’s boot,” Ronin said and extended his hand to Charlotte, which she took. “See you soon.”
“You too.” Charlotte focused on Ronin like the two of them were the only ones in the room.
“Grand,” Eoghan said. “Catch up with you later?”
“Bye-bye, Charlotte.” Clive waved as if hesitant to leave his newfound crush.
Both men left, and finally they were alone.
Eoghan leaned against a wood panel and crossed his arms. “This is kind of interesting, isn’t it? Us here together again. Who would have thought we’d even see each other again once I returned to Ireland?”
Charlotte strolled through the space. “Hmm . . . given that your best friend and my best friend are in love and so serious that the two of them should have dual citizenship in both the US and here, it was only a matter of time.” With no smile for him, she shifted in her stance and crossed her arms.
“Something on your mind?” he asked.
“Did you have anything to do with me being here?” She shot straight to the point. Another characteristic he hadn’t forgotten.
“I had everything to do with you being here. I needed new boots, and yours were the best ones.”
“So this wasn’t some ploy to get me here?”
“Ploy?” He straightened. “I don’t understand your meaning.” He understood very well.
“Listen, I know we hooked up and all—”
He howled with laughter, cutting her off. “You think I’ve been wallowing over you to the point where I orchestrated having problems with my boots, losing a major footwear sponsorship, and bringing management into the mix when they have been waiting for me to return to play for almost a year? Do you think I’m . . . um . . . what’s the word now? Thirsty?”
Charlotte’s lips twitched at the corner. Any man would be honored to bed Charlotte, but he had bigger things to worry about. His entire career hung in the balance, and if he couldn’t get through training feeling good and able to do his job, then all the things that he’d worked for would disappear.
“So you didn’t know it was me and blindly accepted my design?”
“Honestly, I didn’t know or care who designed it.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Your shoe fit best, Charlotte. The rest you can thank management for. They’re the ones organizing all of this. All I want or need from you is your shoe.”
He sounded harsh, even to himself, and her hard visage cracked slightly, but she’d come with a lot of assumptions, and the last thing he wanted was to be perceived as some lovestruck twerp. Had she been the best lover he’d had? Maybe. Who was he kidding? Fuck yes, and that was saying something, since he had catalogs of conquests on his highlight reel. However, he had to pop the fantasy bubble and her belief that he’d flown her here under some pretense.
“Okay,” she responded as if unaffected.
“Why don’t you have a seat?” He offered her a black cushioned chair in front of a wood desk and was relieved when she sat down.
“Would it have been so bad if I did?” he asked, sitting behind the desk, giving her the distance and space he thought she wanted.
“Yes.” She leaned against his coach’s desk, and he orbited her so he could continue to face her.
“Why?”
She tugged on her suit. “I don’t like owing anyone any kind of debt. I just got out of that situation with my investors,” she admitted. She crossed her legs, and the press lines faded slightly from the thickness of her thighs.
“What happened?” He wanted to know but wouldn’t have been surprised if she shut him down.
“They wanted my company to take a different direction.”
“Let me guess—you disagreed with that direction.”
She nodded. “Because of this deal I was able to pay them off and start fresh. Free and clear.” She puffed her chest.
“Well, Charlotte, all you owe me is a pair of boots,” he said. The heaviness of her pride filled the space between them, and he imagined that being unburdened by a business relationship gone sour must have been a relief. He’d had a few of those in the past.
“That’s different. You get a product; I get compensated.”
The power in her statement piqued his interest. Did she see everything between them as various transactions? Had their romp in New York been completely meaningless?
“Here’s the deal,” she said, pulling him from the bleak tunnel he traipsed. “The process is as follows, and our deadline is tight. I need to get data, and then we have to get this shoe through the manufacturing process. You have a prototype that you can use for training, one that I had specially made, but it’s just a mold and doesn’t have all the precision data to accommodate your weight or absorb your shocks. This isn’t a one-size-fits-all deal, so you need to contribute with feedback. As much of it as you can give me.”
“Okay.”
“Thanks to your management, I’ve been connected with the manufacturing contact that normally handles the footwear for the team. I’ll be the lead contact and decision maker, building a relationship with them so they know that when we are ready to produce various versions of the shoe for you to test, we need them back as soon as possible.”
“How long does it take to make a pair of boots?” He rocked back in the desk chair, briefly staring at a picture of Gaff and the owner at the championship he’d missed last year.
“Well, there’s materials that need to be cut, some coming from America, Italy. Printing and stitching of the design and national team logo. Next is the assembly of the shoe, and finally quality control,” she said as she ticked off each process on her slender fingers. “So depending on what kind of shoe we’re making, a few days to a few weeks.”
“Oh.” Disappointment enveloped his words. Would that be all the time they had together?
“However, getting to that stage is weeks away. I need to test the shoe, after I get data, and improve on what new information we get from your activity. It’s going to take work, and your input is valuable.”
He needed this shoe. He’d be shit without it. He’d taken the intensity out of their reunion, but if she thought that she’d be in charge, she was wrong. This was his career on the line, and Charlotte was the gatekeeper between him and her innovative and customized shoe.
“I want you to know that I’ll have a lot to say about this boot. It has to be perfect. I hope you understand and don’t take offense to criticism, because I’ll tell you now there will be lots coming.”
“So long as the criticism is constructive,” she said. “Don’t think that you’re going to be bossing me around and telling me what to do. Your profession is soccer player, and my profession is footwear-and-apparel specialist. If we stick to our individual lanes, we shouldn’t have a problem.”
“Agreed.”
And with that one word, the two of them sealed the contract between themselves, their role, and his quest to get the boots on his feet. He’d seen master craftsmen create cleats for teams around the globe. Yet hers pushed the boundaries of innovation with their unorthodox materials and style, and his management had been very flexible with allowing him to go with a novice in their eyes. They believed in him and what he could do once he was back on the pitch. Charlotte’s reputation was as much at stake as his. They would both do well to make sure that they were successful. He needed to be happy with the boot, and she needed to do her best to get him shoes he’d be happy with.
“I guess I will see you on Friday, when we’ll get started?”
“Friday morning, then?”
“See you then,” she said.
Unbeknownst to him, he had chosen Seam and Sole and Charlotte. He wasn’t getting out of it, and she wasn’t going to walk away now that she had an opportunity to take her prototype to the next level. Let the games begin.
Chapter 6
Charlotte’s rectangular glass trophy, which she’d won two years ago for Best New Company from the Foundation of Innovative Sportswear Brands, sparkled on her desk next to a bouquet of white Christmas roses she’d gotten from the florist in her new neighborhood. Finally, she was done putting the finishing touches on her Grand Canal flat in Dublin. Winter in Ireland brought with it a chill from the water, but she’d take the midforties temps over the deep freeze that she’d normally suffer for most of January in New York. The sun flooding in from partly cloudy skies also brightened her view of the canal, and even though it wasn’t perpetually green as she’d thought, there were still lush evergreens and ferns that flourished year-round.
