Playing Dirty(36)

He turned around with a saucy grin on his handsome, rugged face. “Hey, babe,” he said with a wink. “See something you fancy?”

“The food, yes. The man, no,” I teased.

He let out a mock gasp of offense, and then he grinned at my joke.

“Are you cooking for me?” I asked.

“I’m trying,” he said ruefully. “Damn omelet doesn’t want to come out right.”

“Smells great anyway.”

He gestured towards the table, which was set with two places, some bottles of beer, and a lone daisy stuck in a glass vase. “Sit down,” he said. “I’m almost done.”

I could barely keep from grinning as I lowered myself into the wooden chair. I’d seen Jay almost every day of the past couple of weeks. His schedule was surprisingly light; save for a few training sessions, I saw him all the time. Lizzy had been very busy with university, at least so she’d told me. I felt guilty about neglecting my little sister—I’d only seen her four times in the last fortnight—but something told me she didn’t mind, because ever since Jay and I had started….doing whatever it was that we were doing, she got to go to all of the training sessions.

As for me, my time here with Jay had been a real whirlwind. After the first night together, it was like we couldn’t get enough of each other. Whatever tension, whatever ice had been in place between us had long since melted, and now, being with Jay was almost comfortable. Every time he looked at me, every time he walked into the room, I felt a little surge of excitement rush through my body. Sometimes it was easy for me to forget that he was Jay Walsh, star of Manchester United.

To me, he was just Jay.

When I actually thought about who he was in the grand scheme of things, I could scarcely believe I was here with him, actually sort of dating him, and I knew I was living in a big fantasy bubble—sooner or later, I’d have to go back to the States, and he’d probably be ready to move on to his next fling by then anyway. But for now, I was happy residing in the big, warm bubble of fun and affection…along with the most fabulous sex I’d ever had.

“What do you feel like doing tonight?” I leaned back in the chair and crossed my legs at the ankle. “You want to go to the movies?”

Jay shook his head and wrinkled his nose. “You mean like the cinema?”

I laughed. I was still getting used to his slang. “Yeah,” I said. “I mean, if you want. There’s a new Batman movie out…”

“Last time I went to see a film, there were gobs of girls around,” Jay said with a smirk. “I can’t imagine that would be much fun for you.”

I pretended to pout, but really, I understood perfectly, given some of my own experiences with being a TV personality. Jay sauntered over, still shirtless, bearing a plate with a near-perfect omelet. “This looks incredible,” I said softly as he placed the steaming food in front of me. “Thank you.”

He gave me a lopsided grin. He cracked a beer and sat down in the opposite chair. “You’re welcome. I know I’m not much of a cook,” he said. “But you can’t go wrong with breakfast for dinner.”

“I love breakfast for dinner,” I said with a grin. “Toast and bacon and sausage, yes please.”

He pretended to groan. “I should have made you a fry up,” he replied with a wink. “Beans and toast and sausages, but you’d be out for a week.”

I stuck out my tongue. “I’ll have you know I’m allowed to eat carbs,” I said. “Just not very many, at least not while we’re filming.”

Jay gestured towards the plate in front of me. “Eat,” he said. “It’ll get cold soon.”

I dug in, surprised at how excellent the omelet tasted. Jay had added bits of cheese, green onion, and ham and it was surprisingly filling. I didn’t mind that Jay didn’t want to go out; if I was going to be honest, I didn’t love the idea of fighting off a bunch of his female fans who would no doubt do absolutely anything to be noticed whilst vying for his attention. I was more than happy to stay at home, even though that’s what we’d been doing almost every other night.

“This was incredible,” I said after I’d taken the last forkful of omelet into my mouth. “Where did you learn to make these?”

Jay grinned. “You wouldn’t believe me,” he said with a sheepish grin. “But it doesn’t matter, does it, love?”

I blushed and looked away. It was surreal. Me, Kate, barefoot in the kitchen of one of the world’s most famous men. And he was calling me ‘love’! Of course, that didn’t mean he loved me at all. It was just an expression.