Concussion: A Playing for Glory Romance

Book 5: The Playing for Glory Series

by Francine Beaton, CA Els

Genres: Contemporary Fantasy; Romance; 20th Century Romance; Sports Romance; Sports Romance; contemporary romance; rugby romance

Synopsis

“I'm not good-looking enough. I'm a prop, not the catch on the team. Everyone thinks we're the dumb guys on the squad. The loosies and the guys in the back get the beautiful women.”

Ryan Foster knew the score. He, therefore, had no expectations when he met trauma doctor, Margaret Blake.

Margaret always made it clear how she felt about rugby, a sport she considered only being favoured by dumb and ignorant hooligans. When she met Ryan, the almost chemical attraction surprised her she felt towards the large prop with his bushy beard and long hair. One evening in his company convinced Margaret that there was more to Ryan than meets the eye and gave in to temptation. A severe concussion puts Ryan's rugby career in jeopardy, and with it, his future with Margaret.

Could Margaret convince Ryan (and herself), that they might have a future? And even if they did, would they be able to overcome their pasts to find their own Happy Ever After?

Release date: September 30, 2020

Publisher: Francine Beaton

Print pages: 149

Sample

CHAPTER 1

 

 

 

Margaret slid her gaze over the foyer, shrugging the uncomfortable feeling of being there. Under normal circumstances, this would’ve been her last choice to spend her rare Friday afternoon off. She’d probably surprised the heck out of her sisters and her best friend Peter when she agreed to accompany him.

Why did she?

Possibly because she felt terrible for neglecting Peter in the last few weeks. He was her best friend, and he had always been there for her when she needed him. Margaret just couldn’t say no when Peter almost pleaded with her to be his partner tonight.

Or maybe it was because both her sisters were also attending and as with Peter, Margaret hadn’t spent enough time with them either. Or maybe she had just been nosy, wanting to see what Emma had achieved with her first big order since she opened her florist shop down the road.

Margaret snorted. She knew that’s not the truth either. She had been nosy, yes, but not about Emma’s achievements. The woman who was getting married today had been her patient only a few weeks ago. After she heard the happy couple’s story, Margaret couldn’t resist coming. Even though Margaret hadn’t had her own, she still was a sucker for a happy ending. Christopher and Riley’s story had tugged at her heartstrings, the ones she had forgotten she had, and she couldn’t resist seeing them tying the knot.

So here she was, standing in the foyer in the heart of Buffalo Park, one of Pretoria’s two local professional rugby clubs, sipping a glass of delicious, ice-cold Chardonnay. She let the wine slid down her throat in appreciation, wishing she knew the name of the farm as she took in the interior.

Margaret must admit, she’d never thought it would look so stylish. The executive suites underneath the main pavilion spoke of class and money. Thick carpets, expensive-looking furniture and an art collection many collectors would envy, completed the look.

That she’d been nowhere near the stadium before proved that her attendance tonight was an anomaly. That she was the odd one out in the family didn’t bother her. Her father had become a loyal supporter since their arrival from the UK. Her sister, Hannah, a sports scientist, had worked with the Buffaloes for the last two years. Peter will take over as team doctor for the club next season when the current team doctor is retiring. All the forces conspired her to be here, but Margaret had always resisted.

She had always been quite vocal about her dislike of the sport, considering rugby a hooligan’s game, worse than the football she had endured back in the UK. Being duped by an asshole rugby player before, further enhancing that feeling.

Margaret suppressed that niggling voice in the back of her mind that she was lying to herself. Her stance about the game came before being deceived. Today, however, she definitely didn’t want to think about that unpleasant episode, and she jammed it back to where it belonged.

Having finished admiring the interior, Margaret was happy to relax here in the corner, nursing her wine, and turned her gaze to watch the people. She recognised a face or two as former patients. It’s not surprising since these rugby players ended up in trauma occasionally when she was on duty. That’s probably one of the other reasons Margaret disliked the sport. She’d seen some injuries these guys suffered.

Some of their supporters were even worse. What she’d seen in the trauma unit hadn’t impressed her. Drunk. Disorderly. Rude. No, that was behaviour she abhorred. Give her a man who liked the more beautiful things in life—not one who ran for eighty minutes after a ball that often ended in a brawl.

Still perusing the mixture of guests, Margaret let her gaze slide further. There were a few older couples, but the guests consisted mostly of Buffaloes players and personnel. Hannah was holding court with a group of players on the far side of the room. There was no sign of their younger sister, Emma. She was probably still busy inside finalising the last bouquets.

Her eyes caught a group of men standing on the other side of the room. Two of them were whispering amongst themselves, but it was to the third her gaze returned. Heat spread through her body as she took in his appearance. Her legs suddenly felt weak, her heart beating faster, catching her by surprise.

Seriously? Him? Why would that man make her feel like a blubbering teenager at first sight of her crush?

She studied him carefully, trying to figure out what caused the effect he had on her. He didn’t look remotely like the men she usually associated with. Her usual type was more… shaven. This man was anything but.

His hair was mostly black and curly, and so long it was grazing the broad shoulders confined in an open sports jacket which looked as if they painted it on him. Grey streaks glinted in his hair and the full beard hiding most of his face.

His eyebrows were as bushy as his facial hair, except where an old cut had left a clean patch on his left eyebrow. From this distance, his eyes looked dark brown, tying in with the rest of his colouring.

Margaret’s eyes drifted down to his body, and she had to swallow. She took a large gulp of her wine to ignore the heat swamping her body. She didn’t look away, though. There was too much to appreciate.

He appeared to be the same height as his companions, but he had way more muscles than the two younger men. Close to six feet and heavy-set, he had an impressive figure. That was, however, not what made her body heat. Like most of the men here tonight, he was wearing black tailored pants, a formal light-grey shirt without a tie and an open sports jacket also in black.

It might’ve looked incongruous finding a man with his looks and built in a tailored outfit as the one he was wearing. Margaret suspected he had the jacket made to measurement as there was no way he was going to get something to fit so perfectly in the shops. To her surprise, he looked comfortable in the clothes. If she had only seen his face, she would’ve expected him to wear a leather outfit favoured by motorcyclists. Or what about that guy from Aquaman? Man, he had the looks for it, and she wouldn’t mind seeing what was under that shirt.

As her eyes drifted drown, she noticed how the jacket strained against the muscles of his broad shoulders and flat stomach.

He casually leaned against the wall, his big, equally muscled legs crossed at the ankles. His gigantic hands were twirling a beer bottle between his fingers. Margaret hardly noticed the scarred knuckles on his one hand as if he had been in a fight. In appreciation, she let her eyes drift over his body again until it reached his face.

This time she didn’t have to wonder about his expression. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth and had reached his eyes, amusement clear in its warmth. If it hadn’t been for that crinkle and the heat in his eyes, he might’ve looked mean and dangerous.

This time their eyes met and held. Margaret didn’t miss the appreciative gleam in the dark depths. She caught her breath when he suddenly winked at her.

Now how was that for being caught with your hand in the cookie jar?

She flushed when the man’s smile deepened, something she hadn’t done in a long time.

Margaret still stared at him, mesmerised, until she could pull herself out of her stupor. For goodness’ sake, this was crazy.

Maybe she was losing track of reality because she spent too much time in the trauma unit. She could not remember when last she dated or that any of those dates had this kind of effect. The last time she had dated a man who made her feel anything remotely like this one did was… Well, now come to think of it… Not since she caught her ex in the bed with one of the side-line floozies he apparently favoured their last months together.

This man? He might look rugged and dangerous, but Margaret had an instinctive feeling that the danger he brought was not something physical. And although he looked like the last man she would’ve looked at, she couldn’t deny the intense physical attraction she felt towards him.

It scared the hell out of her.

At least her sisters saved her from her own thoughts. Margaret broke eye contact with the man when Hannah and Emma joined her. Hannah was far too perceptive for her own good and was studying Margaret with a curious expression. Margaret tried to appear nonchalant and took a deep sip of her wine. After she swallowed, she ignored Hannah to ask Emma about the flowers. It was far safer to listen and watch her younger sister talking animatedly than look at that man or Hannah.

Although she made all her effort not to, her eyes drifted to the group of men in the corner several times. Every time she did, she found the eyes of the man on her, a smile still lurking at the corners of his mouth. Silently she dubbed him the caveman. It fitted him—wild, dangerous, with an animal magnetism that drew her eyes to him every time.

 

Ryan Foster leaned against the wall, wishing he was anywhere but here. Weddings were his least favourite social functions to attend. He would put it up there with funerals, but hell, that was not what he wanted to think about now.

He had tried many dodging techniques over the years, but there were just some occasions he couldn’t get out of it. Today was one of those.

He listened with only half an ear to the idle conversation of his two young teammates.

As usual, he seemed to draw the younger and more introverted players to him. It might be almost fifteen years ago, but Ryan remembered when he arrived in the big city as wide-eyed and bushy-tailed as young Adrian.

He’d been in this squad for a hell of a long time, and it was therefore not a surprise that he’d become a mentor for the younger players. Adrian Malherbe and Ulrich Fölscher were prime examples.

Nowadays, Ryan didn’t mind his adopted role. There was a time he had, pushing everyone away from him in the hope to cope with his pain and guilt. He had forgotten something, though. Rugby was a team sport. Even if you try to hide, the team would always find you. Even though no one, and especially the younger players, knew what he had gone through, they had helped him in ways he never thought possible.

It was his mentoring of the younger players that pushed him in a direction where Ryan knew what he wanted to do with his life post-retirement. At first, he rejected it, shoving it to the back of his mind, but as the years went by, he had no choice than accepting it. The pull was too strong. Hell, apart from playing rugby, that was all he wanted to do with his life since he was a young boy, but back then he couldn’t bear thinking of fulfilling a role that would bring him pain.

It’s not long away now—one more season. One more World Cup and then he was done. Would he be sad to say goodbye? Possibly, but he was also looking forward to the next stage of his life. He would miss the camaraderie though, but he would still have the friendships he formed during his career. It might feel strange, not walking across to the stadium every day. Hell, it would be weird not seeing the stadium from his bedroom windows, but that was something he would have to get used to soon enough when he moved into his new house up the hill. He had to do it, preparing himself for a life after rugby, but it was still difficult.

His gaze slid over the occupants of the foyer. He knew most of them. He’d watched half of these young players grew up over the almost ten years since he moved over the Jukskei River to join this franchise.

Ryan stopped his perusal abruptly as something registered. Well, he knew almost everyone, except one.

Across the room stood a woman on her own, but she didn’t look lonely or uncomfortable. She had the air of a woman who was confident in her own skin. She should be. She was stunning, her light brown hair cut in a modern bob kind of hairstyle, shorter than his. His eyes drifted down over her slim body, average height with curves in all the right places. She was wearing a grey, maxi dress and a glimpse of a leg, peeping through the slit on the right, teased Ryan’s attention.

His eyes slowly trailed up again, and this time, he took in the unblemished skin, full pink lips and grey-blue eyes. Ryan felt a bolt of awareness shooting through his body. It caught him unaware, and he clenched the beer bottle tighter between his fingers.

The eyes kept on drawing him back, and suddenly he noticed something else. Those eyes were not nonchalantly watching the other guests as he first thought.

Ryan wasn’t stupid. He’d been around the block a time or two, and maybe he was not the charmer Rick Walters was, but he knew one thing: this woman was definitely checking him out!

For a moment or two, he doubted his own perception and looked around him as if maybe she had her eyes on someone else. None of the good-looking bastards in the squad were near him. In fact, he had been so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn’t even realised that he was standing alone.

The last flash of awareness was becoming more. His body reacted with a need that shook him as he hadn’t felt it for years. His gaze returning to the stunning, classy-looking woman confirmed that she was indeed checking him out. Hell, who would’ve thought that? He was the old man in the team and probably the last one who’d expected it.

A warmth spread through Ryan, and a smile curled around his mouth. She can check him out any time. In fact, she can do more than check him out. And that thought alone shocked the living daylights out of him. Hell, he had a woman or two over the years to take care of his needs, but there had never been this awareness of a woman he hadn’t met yet.

Ryan realised that the woman who was watching him so intently, appreciation in her eyes, was not yet aware that he had caught her gaze on him. He had to admit that he enjoyed it, causing his smile to spread wider.

He knew the exact moment she realised he caught her red-handed. Her eyes widened, and a very becoming flush highlighted her delicate cheekbones. His grin spread to a full-blown smile, and he did something totally out of character for him. He winked at her, and when her blush deepened, Ryan felt a very unfamiliar feeling around his heart.

Hannah Blake and another woman interrupted their private moment as they joined the woman almost at the same time Ulrich and Adrian, with another player or two in tow, returned to where Ryan was standing. Although reluctant to look away from the woman holding his attention, he briefly studied her two companions before he looked back to her. Although they wore different hairstyles and their whole demeanour differed from each other, the resemblance between the three women was striking. They all had the same colour hair and eyes and high cheekbones, but that was where their similarity ended. They were undoubtedly sisters, but each had a unique style.

He knew Hannah Blake since her arrival at the franchise, and he came to respect the Englishwoman’s keen mind. She was tall and had a slim, athletic built. The woman who caught Ryan’s attention at first was shorter than Hannah. Although she had the same assured manner as Hannah, she looked softer, warmer almost with more feminine curves. If Ryan had to judge, the third sister was quite a few years younger. She still had a youthful complexion, and her eyes were bright with enthusiasm. Her clothes, unlike her two older sisters, were also more artsy and earthy.

Of the three of them, Ryan knew which one he would have chosen. If he could.

Ryan pushed those thoughts away. For one day, he didn’t want to think about it. Unfortunately, just thinking about it, even briefly, had been enough of a reminder. He put the almost-full bottle on the table and leaned against the wall.

To close his mind to his past, he studied the three sisters again. Dr Peter Sinclair, the junior team doctor, also joined them. For one brief moment, he caught the woman’s eyes. He smiled involuntarily when he saw the flush creeping up her cheekbones before she guiltily looked away.

At last Rick Walters saved Ryan from making a fool of himself when he called their attention. Ryan heard the gasps when Rick announced they gathered there today for Chris and Riley’s wedding. Those who were at Daniel Cooper’s barbeque last weekend had kept their promise to keep it a secret. That they pulled it off had been a miracle. A secret in the club didn’t always stay a secret.

Ryan hated weddings. If he could, he wouldn’t have been here today, but Chris had become a friend over the last two years, so he didn’t have a choice. Today the discomfort was even more intense than in the past. He wished he could leave, but he didn’t. He did what he had to do. With reluctance, he took a seat at the back of the room.

Breathing in, he looked up where Christopher stood in the front with Daniel, the team captain, as his best man. Between Daniel and Christopher stood young Jon, a miniature version of his father. They might’ve lost seven years, but at least Chris had the chance to meet his son.

Ryan felt the pain and envy shooting through him, as he remembered those times when he held his baby boy in his arms. The dreams and plans he had for his son... He swallowed hard, dragging his eyes away from the scene before it completely overwhelmed him.

He wasn’t sure whether it helped because when he did, he looked into those blue eyes belonging to Hannah’s sister. He didn’t know whether she could read something in his eyes, but at least, looking at her, he could feel the calm returning to his soul.

The soft sounds of saxophones filled the air, and he stood up with the rest of the guests. Ryan dragged his gaze from her as they turned to watch the approach of the bride to the music of Kenny G’s The Wedding Song.

 

 

CHAPTER 1

 

 

 

Margaret still reeled after that moment she shared with the big man just before the bride arrived. She hardly took any in of the ceremony that followed because she felt so unsettled. The melancholic sound of the saxophones reflected in his eyes and Margaret had felt that moment something tugged at her heart.

What was it she saw? Pain? Remorse? For the second time that day, he had evoked an unexpected emotion in her. The first was a physical need so strong it shocked her, but this? This was way more intense.

Margaret dealt with people every day. She’d seen pain so many times and dealt with it almost every day. Yes, she had empathy with her patients or their loved ones when her patient loses the battle, but never had a fleeting moment, seeing the pain in another human being’s eyes, affected her so.

After the ceremony, she followed Peter and Emma to the conference room, which Rachel and Chloe appropriated for the function. They were the first to arrive at the table which seated ten people. It took all her effort and years of training to pull herself together. She plastered a smile on her face and turned to Emma to congratulate her on the flowers. The hall looked beautiful, and Margaret was proud of her little sister and what she’d achieved in such a short time.

Emma was so different from her and Hannah, it’s scary. They’d all thought she was a dreamer, but Emma had surprised them with her new venture at the tender age of twenty-one. Thinking about it, it shouldn’t have surprised them. Emma took after their mother and grandmother, and a flower shop was perfect for Emma, after spending her entire life with her mother in the garden.

Margaret suddenly felt the hairs on her arms and neck stood at an end, and a shiver went down her spine. It happened moments before she heard the scraping of chairs when more people joined their table. A deep voice greeted Hannah and Peter. Without having to look, Margaret knew it was the man of the foyer. Her heartbeat increased rapidly when she leaned back and turned her head.

Up closer, he looked even more intimidating than he had from afar. His nose was slightly crooked, and tiny scars had left their mark above both eyes and one cheekbone. Again she noticed the deeper scar which split his left eyebrow in two. When she studied him in the foyer, she suspected his eyes were a dark brown, but now, closer, she picked up the hazel flecks in them.

They say the eyes were the windows of the soul, and for the first time, Margaret understood what it meant. His eyes were warm, expressive, shining with intelligence the rough exterior belied. There were more. Appreciation. Admiration. And it was for her as he held her eyes for several seconds.

When Peter bumped her arm, Margaret exhaled. She turned away when Peter made the introductions. Still reeling from yet another moment with the enigmatic man, Margaret tried to concentrate.

She vaguely registered the flush on Emma’s face when Peter introduced her to one of the younger men she saw earlier. Margaret judged him to be about the same age as Emma. Margaret suppressed a smile when she noticed that the young man looked even more flustered than Emma when she took his hand.

The other man looked a few years older but far more reserved than the first one. Adrian Malherbe, the blue-eyed youngster, and Ulrich Fölscher, two of the younger players in the team, then turned to Margaret when Peter introduced them. Margaret barely registered it as she was too aware of the man standing at the end of the table, patiently waiting for his turn.

When it came, Margaret’s heart fluttered when he held out his big hand, and his eyes met hers. She had little choice than taking his hand. Her breath caught as his hand enveloped hers. When the roughness of his palm brushed against Margaret’s, heat shot through her. And then… He sandwiched her hands between his, causing Margaret’s breath to hitch and her legs turning to jelly.

She heard Peter said, “Margaret, this is Ryan Foster. Ryan, Margaret is Hannah’s sister. Well, Doctor Margaret Blake and my friend and colleague.”

His eyes glinted with humour when he murmured in that deep voice, “I’m pleased to meet you... Doc.”

Oh gosh, then he smiled, and as it had earlier, it completely transformed his face. Small laugh lines made their appearance, exposing even white teeth. Margaret was glad she was sitting down when it happened because even now she could feel the effect rushing through her body. Before Margaret knew it, she returned his smile.

Ryan Foster. It suited him. Strong and to the point.

Peter cleared his throat, and they broke eye contact. Ryan looked down, probably only then realising that he still held her hand. He quickly let go and took his seat at the end of the table on Margaret’s right. As soon as he did, his knee bumped against hers, and again she felt the heat. Her head shot up, startled, just to meet his eyes.

He had felt it too. He had to, as he looked just as startled as Margaret.

Geez, what was going on with her? This was not the type of man she would’ve thought would have this kind of effect on her. She suddenly felt tongue-tied, and it irritated the hell out of her. She’d outgrown that phase of her life a long time ago, but it didn’t feel like it at this moment.

Taking a deep breath, she unfolded her hands she had unwittingly clenched in her lap and picked up her glass with a trembling hand.

If she could only ignore the man on her right, she could concentrate on the conversation around her.

 

Concussion