by D STEP
Dick had a completely relaxed manner in front of the camera, Kat noted. Clearly more at ease with the media nonsense than herself; it made her even more jealous of him than before. Well, he’s had plenty of practice, she conceded. The smarmy, smiling old bastard!
“Not at all, Chad. My mandate since retiring is to support and uphold a tradition of excellence in golf at all levels. It’s important to give back to the sport that’s treated me so well, and see to it that young players have access to the best opportunities and equipment possible to continue to pursue their dreams and represent the game at its highest level. I only wish such advantages were available during my own career.”
“Admirable, Dick. But let’s cut to the chase. Do you think you can beat her?”
Dick turned to Katelyn and gave her a long, hard stare. His mesmerizing green gaze seemed calculating, sizing her up, trying to read her thoughts. She tried not to blink, and found her eyes so riveted to his that she couldn’t have done so if she’d wanted to.
“That’s for the course to decide,” he said, his cheeks creasing with that experienced, and somehow sexy, sneer she’d seen before.
“Kat?” Chad addressed her. “What do you say to that?”
Dick’s magnanimous statement about young athletes had surprised her. “Well, as my opponent so eloquently put it, I will do my best to represent the game at its highest level.”
Chapter Three
“You’re not the least bit ashamed of yourself, are you?” Frank asked.
Dick sat across his desk from the accountant, glancing at him sideways. “For what?” He filed away product catalogs and ledger books in an attempt to clear his desktop.
“You’d take candy from the mouth of babes?”
“It’s USGA rules and ratings, Frank. She’ll have a handicap, plus extra strokes since we play from the same tee.”
“You’re outfitting her to gain advertising for your business, and now you go up against her for the prize money, too? I knew you were a player, Dick, but not a “dick” player. Don’t do this; find another way to get the scratch.”
“Frank,” Dick said, leveling his gaze at him. “Think about this. Do you suppose Forrester would take it easy on her? Maybe duff a few shots to make her look good?”
Frank’s eyes narrowed. “Are you saying you plan to let her win? Make a good show of it? How does that help you?”
“Marketing is everything, Frank. You know that. Just sit back and watch the fun, okay?” He left his accountant sitting there and walked out. Candy from babes, he repeated to himself. Sitting next to Kat during the interview rankled his nerves more than he let on. He’d been in the media spotlight enough to be able to hide any emotions he might feel. He didn’t particularly like or pay attention to women golfers. But he couldn’t deny they were making headway into the golf world, with the full support of golf schools and equipment manufacturers around the world. Likewise he couldn’t deny that Katelyn, seen close-up, showing off those voluptuous thighs and with waves of blond hair caressing her shoulders, she wasn’t a knockout. A twenty-one-year old knockout, he reminded himself. She was literally a baby. As for candy…would it be sweet or sour after he stole the prize from her?
*
Katelyn had played The Champion enough times to record a handicap. The PGA National course was a favorite of Keiser’s golf athletes, one of five in proximity to the school. “7,140 yards of venom,” one journalist had called it, and the addition of Jack Nicklaus’s “Bear Trap” with its myriad of hazards just elevated the challenge.
“Remember, you’ll get an extra six strokes credit when playing from the white tee along with Chalmers,” Percy said. “Just play your game, don’t worry about what he’s doing, and you can beat him.”
Kat nodded, confident in her abilities, but not so much of her emotions. Dick the Prick had gotten her so riled up she swore she could spit wooden tees. The tournament was a modified stroke-play, shortened to 36 holes instead of the standard 72. That meant she had only two 18-hole rounds to shoot her best cumulative score. There’d be little room to make up for a blown hole later on.
The camera crews and a small crowd of spectators had already gathered as their golf cart drew to a halt at the first hole. Percy turned to face Kat. “You’re ready. You’ve played this course a dozen times. Just do what you do, Kat; ignore the crowd, the cameras, and especially Dick. He doesn’t tee off until 10:00, so he’ll be several holes behind you today, but tomorrow he’ll go first, and you’ll know every shot he makes. Now go get ‘em, Golden Girl.”
Polite applause rippled through the entourage as Kat stepped up to the tee. She placed her ball and studied the fairway. An easy par 4 as long as you didn’t overshoot the green and find the sandtrap that semicircled it on the left side. She took a deep breath, gripped her club, and focused on the shiny new tournament-supplied ball that sat innocently on the tee.
Tick tock like a clock, rang the mantra inside her mind. Tick went the backswing. Speed through the downward stroke, and Tock. The sound of the ball sent whizzing its way to the green. Gazing up, her shot cleared the first bunker on the right, landing safely on the short grass just ahead of it. The people clapped.
“About 220 yards on that drive,” Percy said, peering through his rangefinder. Another 80 onto the green…great ball, Kat.” Acting as her caddy, Percy replaced her new driver, courtesy of Chalmers Sports, to her bag and headed off toward the green. Kat gave a small wave of acknowledgment to the crowd and followed. The sun felt warm on her neck and the grass sparkled with the last droplets of dew from overnight. A great start to a great day. She felt buoyant.
At the fifth hole, the Champion’s water hazards became the concern. With basically nothing but water between the tee and green on this short par 3, Kat’s shot had to clear the pond and land near the pin. An easy birdie if you didn’t end up in the drink. A 120-yard chip with a 4 iron got her there without incident, and a crafty putt yielded the bird. Her growing group of followers applauded heartily.
As usual, the play on hole 9 was to the clubhouse where Kat’s team would take a short break. She exhaled a sigh of relief as her ball settled into the hole, giving her a 2-under stroke count for the front 9. They headed to the clubhouse, but their route was partially blocked by a sea of people and vehicles.
“It’s Chalmers,” Percy grunted in disgust, pointing ahead into the crowd. “He hasn’t even teed off yet.”
Sure enough, Kat spotted Dick’s red-brown hair as he turned his head left and right, chatting with the media crew, all smiles and swagger. “Prick,” she grumbled, following Percy as he blazed a trail to the VIP lounge inside. Soft drinks and sandwiches waited for them at the bar. Kat reached for a bottle of water, gazing out the windows in annoyance at the crowd still surrounding Chalmers. “I’m going to the ladies room,” she said as she turned away in search of the facilities. She was sweaty and not a little perturbed at seeing her adversary. Out of sight, out of mind would have suited her best today.
She lifted her braid of hair off her neck and pinned it up, allowing the air-conditioned atmosphere in the restroom to cool her skin. Some cold water on her face revived her a little, and she adjusted the band on her visor to hold the twist of braid in place. Better, she thought, taking a quick glance in the mirror. Funny. Appearances hadn’t been important to her on the course before today.
Her stomach rumbled, and remembered the sandwiches laid out in the lounge. She swung the heavy door open and stepped quickly into the hallway. Before she could even look up, a tall body crashed into her, knocking her off-balance. A strong hand grabbed her shoulder.
“Watch out, Kit-Kat.”
No. Not here, not now. Her cheeks burned as she heard his voice, looked up into a pair of taunting green eyes. Dick the Prick seemed to be everywhere in her life, even in the bloody bathroom! “Sorry,” she mumbled. “Excuse me.”
They switched places as he guided her body in the direction of the lounge before releasing his grip on her. “I hear you did we
ll on the front 9,” he said. “But watch out behind you.”
Kat squared her shoulders and looked him up and down. “Worry about your own behind, Dick. Leave mine alone.”
He stared back at her with a look that sent tremors up her spine. “Oh, I wish I could, sweetheart. But I don’t think I’ll be able to. Your behind is very nice.”
She took a step backward. His voice flowed low and smooth like chocolate glaze over ice cream, very unlike the timbre he used while in public. A storybook image of Big Bad Wolf popped into her head. Don’t listen Red Riding Hood, just run.
Another step backward and she pivoted away from him, striding quickly toward the lounge and safety. Did he just threaten me? Or did his comment intend something even more dangerous? She looked around for Percy, her mind racing and both her nerves and hormones jumping. She didn’t need this distraction, not in the middle of competition. Her future depended on winning this tournament and damn it, neither Dick Chalmers’ fame nor sexy bedroom voice was going to take it away from her.
Chapter Four
So far, the strategy was working. Kat Halliday seemed nervous as a cat, pun intended, walking a tightrope. Dick took his time on the course, knowing he could catch up to her at any time if he wanted to, but kept a leisurely pace on purpose. His intel from Kat’s group told him everything he needed to know; how many strokes, what hazards seemed to give her the most trouble. He matched her score stroke for stroke, keeping in mind her handicap and credits. Best to keep things interesting until the end—tomorrow’s round had yet to come.
Unbidden, Frank’s words echoed in Dick’s head. “Don’t do this. Find another way.” He didn’t make a habit of stealing candy from babes, as Frank had also phrased it, but 100 grand would bail him out of his debts, and cover at least a portion of his divorce settlement. His career was winding down, and he preferred to go out with a bang, before he became an embarrassment by stretching out his glory days too long. Miss Kit-Kat had plenty of chances left ahead of her.
Kit-Kat, he smirked. The name of a candy bar. He imagined Kat’s sizeable and sumptuous rump made out of chocolate, and taking a bite out of it. He shook the idea from his mind, as that sentiment would not help him in the least. He teed up his ball on the 16th and prepared to enter the famous “Bear Trap.” The next three holes had claimed the egos of many players. Ahead of him, the dogleg through the narrows between two ponds the size of fishing lakes made the best golfers quiver in their cleats.
His caddy moved toward him and whispered in his ear. Halliday had finished the round at +1. Dick nodded and took his stance on the teebox. He could manage a +1.
*
“Well, it appears you’re tied with Chalmers,” Percy stated as he and Katelyn sat in the VIP lounge. She insisted on sticking around to see Dick finish. The live coverage ran on closed circuit inside the lounge, and already knew Percy was right. Uncanny that Dick the Prick seemed to take almost exactly the same approach on each hole as she’d done. She wasn’t certain if she felt flattered or insulted. But she couldn’t take her eyes off the screen as she watched the man move as graceful as a mountain lion over the course.
His swing was a thing of beauty; she got the feeling he held back on some of his drives. The power he exhibited was capable of much more, she knew it. As the camera followed him, she saw the public Dick Chalmers, the one history knew, the one-time media darling of the links. His ease among the huge group of onlookers, his still-trim athletic body, the outrageously captivating smiles he cast about like flowers. Damn. The guy was charismatic, no question. She struggled to remember he was a no-good, conniving shithead, the kind of guy you loved to hate.
*
The next day dawned cool and gray. Rain was expected to fall from overcast skies throughout the day. Not ideal golf weather, but Kat hoped it would clear just long enough for her tee-off at 10:00 am. Until then she monitored the closed circuit footage and watched Chalmers tee off in the early morning drizzle. He birdied each of the first four holes, but Percy came to collect her before she could see any more.
“Let’s hit it, Golden Girl.”
The greens were slow and wet, but the moist earth meant the balls had very little roll to them once they hit the ground, minimizing the chances of slipping into the bunkers. Kat and her group slogged through the front nine, pulling out a par on every hole except five, where miraculously she shot her first hole-in-one. Percy kept her up to date on Chalmers status, and she grinned in spite of the rain at hearing he’d lost a ball on the 8th. Apparently it took a bad bounce on the far side of the creek that separated the green from the rest of the fairway and danced into the water.
It was still anyone’s contest as they headed for the clubhouse before starting the treacherous back 9, where the Bear Trap waited to snare anyone who dared challenge it. As they approached the building for a welcome respite to the soggyday, Dick’s entourage emerged from the entrance doors.
“He certainly took his time,” Percy grunted as they neared Chalmers’ party. “Why are they still here?”
The cameras swung toward them as Dick called out to her. “Miss Halliday! How good to see you. Hope you had better luck than I did on the front 9. I’m afraid we had a bit of misfortune and were just drowning our sorrows in the lounge. Can I buy you a drink?”
Kat slowed her steps, determined not to rise to his bait. Chad Weldon made his way forward, microphone in hand.
“Smile,” whispered Percy.
“Kat! Kat Halliday,” Chad called to her. “A difficult day on the links for both competitors. Congratulations for an amazing hole in one, Katelyn. How do you feel going into the last stretch of the competition?” He shoved the mike to her face.
Damn him for putting her on the spot. She felt sure Dick had waited around on purpose, just to unnerve her further with undue media attention. Kat raised her head, speaking to Chad but fixing her icy glare on Chalmers. “A little chilly, Chad; I think I could use that drink about now, since Dick is buying.”
The crowd bubbled with laughter, and moved aside as she continued up the steps to the clubhouse. She reached the top step and stood face to face with Dick. “Well?” she asked, tilting her head to one side.
He looked a bit surprised, but definitely intrigued by her acceptance of his offer. His signature grin blossomed beneath the brim of his personal-label ballcap. He swept an open arm toward the doors in invitation. Kat brushed past him and a swarm of bodies followed in her wake.
She sensed Dick’s presence close behind as she reached the bar. As he docked beside her, a waft of outdoor freshness mingled with expensive cologne reached her nostrils, forming a tantalizing aroma. If he weren’t who he was, if they weren’t trapped in this battle of wills and dollar signs, she might actually enjoy this moment.
He removed his hat, setting free his thick locks of red-brown hair with its shocks of silver. She wanted to touch it, ruffle it till it stuck out in schoolboy tufts. Thoroughly embarrass him. He deserved it.
“What’ll you have?” he asked, turning the full force of his emerald gaze on her. Did she smell scotch on his breath? Fantastic…he was compromised already.
“Hot chocolate,” she said, feeling smug. His eyes seemed to soften, acknowledging her resolve but registering disappointment at the same time.
“Hot chocolate,” Dick repeated to the server who stood at attention looking back and forth between them. “Nothing for me, thanks.”
“Nothing?” Kat asked. “By all means, have another scotch. Don’t let me cramp your style.”
“I’ll pass,” he said. “I take it you don’t care for my style.”
“I’m wearing your clothes, what more do you want?”
He worked his jaw a bit, as though weighing several options before answering. “If I told you what I really want at this moment,” he said, leaning closer and lowering his voice to that dangerously sexy tone she’d heard before, “you’d run screaming for your mother.”
Her hot chocolate arrived just in time for Kat to clamp her
shaking hands around the warm cup. Somehow she couldn’t find the strength to raise it to her lips. “Would I?” she said, answering with a calmness she did not feel. “I guess you’ll never know.” She forced herself to look away, pausing to take a sip of the sweet, hot liquid before her, letting the tension build between them. After a long moment, Dick pushed himself away from the bar.
“Excuse me,” he said. “Nature calls. Best of luck, Miss Halliday.” He replaced his hat and sauntered down the hall to the restrooms.
Miss Halliday? Aha! He could dish it out, but not take it. She hoped she’d rattled him at least a little, but found herself the one trembling at his suggestive words. She flushed inwardly at the realization that what he might want to do to her was exactly what she might want, too.
Chapter Five
They stayed in the clubhouse long enough for Chalmers’ group to get a few holes ahead of them. It was critical to keep tabs on his score for the rest of the round so that Kat could choose her shots to meet or beat him. By the time Dick finished the 15th, he was nearly five strokes under. Apparently he was done toying with her and playing for real, now, Kat thought, disheartened. Her attempt to bait him in the clubhouse had backfired. The wet conditions made the course less forgiving, and it looked as though even catching him now, never mind besting him, was a distant hope.
But the Bear Trap awaited them both.
As she and her entourage trudged toward the dreaded trio of holes, Percy tried to encourage her. “You can do this, Kat; but you’ll need to play the risky shots, over the water.”
The 16th with its narrow dogleg gave only two choices, both of them difficult. Kat took Percy’s advice, placing her drive to land near the first bunker on the right. From there, a controlled chip of about 90 yards over the water would make the green. She had to try. Focusing on the pin, she visualized the weight of her swing, the ball landing on the uphill side of the green, and took her shot. She kept her head down and closed her eyes, her body frozen in her follow-through stance, her breathing suspended.
