Someone Like You by Jennifer Gracen Read Free Book Online

embarrassment. There was the hot stranger, in a soccer uniform—no, football, if he’d been in the Barclays Premier League in England, as it said in the caption. Looking back over at him, she suddenly saw he was every bit the professional star athlete, flashing a megawatt smile as the kids posed with him for pictures. The parents with their cell phones were like a swarm of paparazzi. It had become an instant mob scene.
    â€œWhat the hell would a European soccer star be doing in Edgewater?” she asked.
    â€œWell,” Mr. Esdon said, “he played in England, but he’s originally from around here. He grew up on Long Island. Maybe he came home for a family visit or something. Excuse me, won’t you?” He quickly made his way over to the growing crowd of parents and kids. The other team had noticed the commotion, and someone must have spread the word. Pierce was at the center of a small crowd now and, except for a few random spectators, the entire field had all but cleared to see this man up close.
    Now Abby felt ridiculous. First she’d let a stranger near her boys, then she’d spoken harshly to someone who turned out to be famous, practically accusing him of trying to kidnap or harm one of her players. Great. Just great. She didn’t follow English football, how could she have known? Huffing out a frustrated sigh, she crossed her arms, hugging the clipboard to her chest.
    Pierce Harrison, huh? She’d have to Google him when she got home. But while he was busy chatting amiably with the small crowd, signing autographs and posing for pictures, she studied him. Her initial brief assessment held: he was drop-dead gorgeous. Something about him made her insides buzz with heady warmth. But all those tattoos . . . his scruffy jaw . . . the way he glanced over at her twice with a hint of a smirk, brazen and cocky . . . he radiated danger. This was a very bad boy, she could tell. He might as well have had a neon sign on his chest: DANGER. HOT AND HE KNOWS IT.
    So not her type.
    Then again, did she even have a type anymore? Nowadays, she was practically a monk.
    With a disgusted grunt at her thoughts, she turned away, dropping her clipboard to the ground and reaching for her water bottle instead. A few sips in, someone tapped her on the shoulder. “Coach?”
    Abby whirled around. Pierce Harrison. He was taller than she’d realized, had to be six-one or six-two. He had the tight, leanly muscled frame of a soccer player, which appealed to her more than she wanted to admit. His wavy, dark hair was tousled, but gelled just a little in the front, begging to be played with. And that face . . . God, what beautiful features. Those eyes . Such a brilliant marine blue, fringed with long, dark lashes. Roman nose, great cheekbones, and a strong, square jaw covered in dark stubble, which only seemed to draw her gaze to his mouth. His full, sensual lips widened in a smile that revealed perfect teeth.
    Jesus, this guy was too gorgeous. He probably ate women like her for breakfast.
    She found herself speechless.
    Luckily for her, he spoke. “I wanted to apologize”—he sounded sincere—“for making you think even for a second that I was some pervert coming over here to snatch up one of your players.” The smile turned a bit wicked. “That is what you thought, right?”
    She felt herself blush furiously and cursed inside her head. “I . . . well, yeah. Wouldn’t you? I mean—”
    â€œYeah, I would. I understand,” he said, the grin not leaving his face. “You were right to be concerned and protective. If some strange guy approached my nephews, I’d get in his face too. You did the right thing.”
    â€œOh.” Why did this make her feel worse, not better? God, she felt off-kilter. She took off her sunglasses so she could look him in the eye, an effort to seem in control. His very presence was turning her into mush. Talk about natural