by A. L. Brooks
She could only imagine where that might lead with follow-up questions.
“How much of this project is supposed to be about me the person versus me the golfer?” she asked quietly.
Hilton stared at her. “I would assume mostly the latter, but I’m not sure you can explore that fully without some of the former.”
“Yeah.”
“What are you not telling me?”
She bit her lip but stayed silent.
“Morgan, if you’re worried about the whole gay thing, don’t be.”
Morgan laughed. “No, it’s not that. It’s not exactly a secret, is it?”
“True, although you’ve never actually come out in an interview. That might change by the end of this project.”
“I guess.” She shrugged. “But I’m okay with that.”
“So what is it?”
She’d never told Hilton much about her father. He, like everyone else in the golfing world, automatically assumed that her father must be over the moon to have such a successful golfer in the family. Any time her father had been asked an opinion by the press, he’d said all the right things, and everyone had taken it as gospel.
“There are…some family things that I’d prefer not to talk about. I’m concerned they’ll come up in Adrienne’s questioning. Either today or over the next few weeks.”
Hilton frowned. “Do I need to know what these family things are? Maybe I could help steer her away?”
Morgan huffed out a breath. “No. I guess I can just handle that myself.”
If he was hurt by her exclusion, he didn’t show it. “Well, all right then. But if you need my help with anything, you just let me know.”
“I will.” She reached out and quickly clasped his forearm. “Thanks. I promise I’ll try to do this right. I know I’ve been pretty immature about it so far, but I’ll shape up.”
“I know you will.” He smiled. “You’ve never let anything best you yet, so I can’t see a little thing like an interview getting in your way.”
She hoped like hell his confidence wasn’t misplaced.
Chapter 6
“And home is San Francisco, correct?” Adrienne asked, smiling encouragingly.
Morgan had done well so far. When Adrienne had returned to the dining room, she’d been pleasantly surprised—and relieved—by the transformation in Morgan’s demeanor. She still came across as shy, although Adrienne wasn’t sure that was the word she was looking for. But she also seemed to have crossed a mental hurdle and was quick to apologize for her earlier shortness.
They’d got started soon after that. Hilton had left, then Jenny had been introduced to Morgan. To Adrienne’s delight, Jenny had greeted the golfing superstar with the utmost decorum and civility. Although Jenny had met some celebrities before, she’d never met someone she so openly admired—and crushed on. Adrienne hadn’t known what to expect, and her relief was coupled with the realization that she had done her assistant a disservice by assuming the worst.
Morgan was patient with the makeup artist and Toby and Diane as they set her up in the perfect position for both light and sound. And she had answered Adrienne’s first few questions with more ease than she’d dared hope for.
“Yes, it is. I visited the city when I was a kid and fell in love with the cable cars and hills and, of course, the Golden Gate Bridge. It was always a dream of mine to live there one day, and I’m lucky enough to do that now.”
“So how much time do you get to spend there?”
“Not as much as I’d like!” Morgan smiled ruefully for the camera, and it was endearing. “The tour is long. We don’t have to play every tournament, so we can pick which weeks to take a break, but obviously the more you play, the more ranking points you can hopefully earn, so…” She shrugged and grinned.
“And what do you do on your breaks?”
Morgan laughed, and it was the most natural Adrienne had seen her yet. It was amazing the difference it made to her usual serious face. “I spend time with my personal trainer, who helps me work off the ice cream I eat too much of when I’m home.”
Adrienne chuckled. “Ice cream?”
“Yeah, it’s my Kryptonite!”
“What flavor? Or will anything do?”
Morgan gave a look of mock horror. “Oh no, it has to be coffee.”
Adrienne glanced down at her notes. “Presumably you also like to catch up with your family when you’ve got free time.” There was the briefest of drops in Morgan’s expression that almost threw Adrienne off her spiel. What just happened? “As most viewers will know, your dad is Gordy Spencer, six-time major win on the men’s tour, and your brother, Jack, is a pro tennis player, ranked 108 as we speak. That’s a pretty successful family!”
Morgan nodded slowly, but her eyes had lost some of their sparkle. “It certainly is.”
Okay, so that was not the answer she’d expected. She almost floundered. “Must make for some interesting conversations over the dinner table, comparing wins and achievements?”
Morgan shifted in her chair, glanced away from Adrienne to look directly at the camera, then back again. “I’m sorry, I’m… What was the question?”
“Do you need a short break?”
Morgan shook her head. “No, it’s not that. It’s… You can edit this, right?”
Adrienne nodded.
“Okay, then ask me again, and we’ll carry on.”
Wondering just what the hell she’d stumbled into, Adrienne asked her question again.
“Yeah, obviously all three of us have been very successful in our careers,” Morgan said, but it sounded flat. “My mom always jokes about how she feels left out, but she does some incredible charity work that deserves just as much publicity, in my opinion.”
Hm, interesting deflection. Deciding to run with it for now but determined to revisit this clearly touchy subject, Adrienne asked Morgan to give the viewers a little more detail about what her mom did. She’d probably cut this section later, but it seemed important to get Morgan back on track.
“So, as we speak, you’ve just had back-to-back wins and climbed up to third in the world, your highest ever rank.”
Morgan grinned.
“Is that going to give you more confidence heading into the Women’s PGA in Williamsburg? Perhaps help you finally notch that first major?”
“I hope so. Winning always boosts your confidence, whether you’re number three in the world or number thirty. But yeah, back-to-back wins does make me feel I’m doing everything right to put myself in the strongest position for a good run at the PGA.”
“Can you win it?”
“Yes, I can.”
“Will you?”
Morgan chuckled. “I’ll certainly do my best.”
“Okay, let’s leave it there,” Adrienne said after a quick pause to give the editors a gap to work with. She knew they hated it when interviewers or commentators talked over natural cut-off points. Later their narrator would record a voiceover that provided a link between that segment and the next, and it would all appear seamless.
“Was it okay?” Morgan asked nervously.
“You were amazing!” Jenny stepped forward from the corner where she’d watched the interview. “Really good.”
“It was fine, Morgan,” Adrienne said. “Don’t worry.”
Morgan nodded and stood. “Well, okay. I’ll see you in Chicago.”
She walked quickly across the room, but Adrienne, instinct kicking in, called after her. “Hey, Morgan, I was wondering. Do you have time for lunch before you leave?”
Morgan’s eyes were wide as she turned back. “Lunch?”
“Oh, yeah, lunch is a great idea! I’m starving,” Jenny said, and Adrienne wanted to groan. She should have known Jenny would invite herself along.
Morgan looked between them. “Sure,” she said, altho
ugh she sounded as if she’d rather do anything else on earth.
Morgan was having a surprisingly good time. Jenny was fun company, and Adrienne, although quieter, had a dry humor that delighted Morgan. Discovering earlier that Adrienne was the attractive woman she’d spotted hanging around in the press area all week of the tournament had clicked all the pieces into place—why she followed Morgan on the course, and why she hung back at the press conferences afterward, not asking any questions but simply observing. Strangely, it didn’t make Morgan feel uncomfortable; she understood why Adrienne would have kept her distance and respected her for not attempting to talk to her earlier than the planned interview.
They ate at a Mexican restaurant in the city just a couple of blocks from Morgan’s hotel. Adrienne’s thoughtfulness on that arrangement had also touched Morgan and only added to the positive impression she was gaining of this woman. She never thought she’d feel so comfortable so quickly around someone who was essentially here to poke into her life. So far, Adrienne had been courteous, respectful, and careful. Long may that continue.
Although she’d feared their conversation would be awkward and stumbling, after the first few minutes, they’d all relaxed around each other. Morgan realized with a shock that this was the first social time she’d spent with anyone not directly related to her golfing life in quite some time and was pleased she could remember how to act in such situations.
“So,” she said, as she scooped up the last of her chicken fajita and used it to mop up the remaining sauce on her plate. “Do either of you play golf? You both seem to know a lot about it.”
She popped the morsel into her mouth and chewed while she waited for their responses. They both did seem very knowledgeable about her sport, and it had been yet another surprise.
Jenny snorted. “I’d love to be able to tell you that I’m a keen player with a handicap of whatever, but I’d be lying.”
Adrienne smiled. “You have to tell her the whole story.”
Jenny rolled her eyes and laughed.
“Oh, you do now.” Morgan grinned at Jenny.
Jenny flushed, then cleared her throat. “Well, my dad is a big golf fan, and he plays a pretty good game. I grew up with golf on the TV and in conversation all through the weekends. I begged my dad to let me try it. He waited until I was old enough, in his eyes, to properly hold a club, and he finally took me out to his local course when I was thirteen.” She took a sip of her water and carried on, her words warmed by her smile. “So we head out to the driving range. He hands me a four iron and gets me in position and talks through the swing, et cetera. He steps back a little and tells me to take a practice swing, nice and slow. Well,” she said, chuckling, “I’m feeling all full of myself at this point and determined to show him I can handle this.”
“Uh-oh,” Morgan said, engrossed in the story and in the amusement dancing in Jenny’s eyes. Next to her, Adrienne laughed softly, and she caught her gaze, amazed once again at what an incredible color Adrienne’s eyes were, a deep brown that was almost the color of scorched earth. They smiled at each other.
“Yeah, exactly! I try to give it a full swing but somehow lose my grip completely. The club shoots backwards out of my hands and slams into my dad’s shins!”
“Oh. My. God.” Morgan laughed, shaking her head. “How bad was he hurt?”
Jenny looked shamefaced. “He’s still got a scar on his left leg from the stitches he needed. Only three,” she said, when Morgan raised her eyebrows, “but needless to say, I was never allowed to play golf with him again.”
“Oh, dear.”
Jenny sipped the last of her water. “I did try again later in college—my boyfriend at the time thought it would be a fun day out. We argued the whole way around the course because I wouldn’t take it seriously enough for him. I think I realized then I’m definitely an armchair fan.”
“Nothing wrong with that.” Morgan turned to Adrienne. “And you, do you play?”
“No. Never lifted a club. I’m not so fanatical about it as Jenny is, but I like to watch it on TV sometimes. I really enjoy the Solheim, actually. I like the team camaraderie.”
Morgan nodded. She’d not made the team last year, but she had high hopes for next time around, especially on her current form.
As if reading her thoughts, Adrienne asked, “Would you want to play in it?”
Smiling, Morgan nodded vigorously, and the two women watching her laughed. “Yeah, that’s definitely a dream.”
“God, imagine how proud your dad would be after he played in four Ryder Cups and won it twice!” Jenny said, her eyes wide.
Morgan’s stomach sank. “Oh, yeah, sure.”
Adrienne caught her eye. There was a question in her expression, and Morgan braced herself, but it never came. Instead, to her surprise, Adrienne looked quickly at her watch.
“Jenny, we need to let Morgan go. She’s got some things to do before she heads out to the airport.”
“Oh, God, sorry!” Jenny pushed back her chair. “I’ve just rambled on. It’s just been so cool to talk to you.” She blushed. “You’re one of my favorite players, so this has been a real honor.”
“You’re welcome.” Morgan smiled, then looked at Adrienne. That question was still there in her eyes. Why hadn’t she asked? And why did she offer me an escape?
“So we will catch up with you in Chicago, okay?” Adrienne said, her voice smooth and giving nothing away.
“Yes, of course. Hilton said you wanted to film some of my practice time?”
“That would be ideal, yes. Let us know which day works best for you. Here, this is my number.” Adrienne pulled a card from her purse and pushed it across the table.
“Great, I’ll do that.”
They parted company outside the restaurant. Jenny shook her hand with enthusiasm and repeated what a pleasure it had been to meet her. There was something else there too, in her eyes and her smile, something that took a few moments to register because it had been so long since Morgan had looked for it. Well, perhaps that was something she could think more about—Jenny was cute, fun, and so very different from Naomi.
Adrienne’s hand in hers was warm, her handshake firm but not as vigorous as Jenny’s. She smiled at Morgan. God, she really is beautiful. The thought hit Morgan out of the blue. Yes, she’d registered Adrienne’s beauty earlier that day and even before that, but up close with their hands still clasped together, there was a presence about Adrienne that only added to her physical beauty. It left Morgan feeling a little shy and breathless.
“Looking forward to working more with you,” Adrienne said, and her voice was like velvet, sending a shiver through Morgan’s chest.
Jesus, what is wrong with you? Calm down.
“Likewise. And again, I’m sorry about not being that friendly earlier. I’m—”
Adrienne held up her hand. “No need to apologize or explain. It can’t be easy letting a complete stranger into your life like this. I very much appreciate that you are.”
Morgan couldn’t think of a response to such heartfelt words, so she merely nodded and smiled and finally let go of Adrienne’s hand. She missed the feel of it immediately. Flustered, she stepped back, lifted a hand in a goofy wave, and turned away before her blush revealed itself.
“She’s amazing!” Jenny said in the cab back to their hotel. “Wow.”
Adrienne smiled but wondered why her stomach sank a little at Jenny’s words. She hadn’t missed that moment between Jenny and Morgan—Jenny’s attraction for the golfer was plainly written on her face, and it seemed Morgan had responded ever so slightly. Why did that disappoint her?
She moved on from that uncomfortable thought to the other one that had lurked in the back of her mind since Jenny had made the comment about Morgan’s father. It had been slight, but Adrienne hadn’t missed it: Morgan had flinched. That was the second time today a comment or question
about her family had caused Morgan discomfort. What am I missing? Every time the Spencer family had featured on the news or in the papers, they gave the impression of being a regular, albeit very public and successful, all-American family. Is there something behind all that which means it isn’t that rosy? Interesting.
“So the hotel in San Antonio finally confirmed our reservations.” Jenny switched subjects so quickly Adrienne blinked a couple of times to register. “I don’t know what their problem was, but it’s done. The only thing left to finalize is Laurie Schweitzer’s interview. Her manager is, quite frankly, a bitch, and I may need you to step in on that one.”
“What’s her problem?”
Jenny sighed. “‘I’m not sure I understand why Ms. Wyatt can’t talk to me herself,’” she mimicked in a whiny tone. “I think she thinks I’m too far down the food chain, even though all she has to do is say yes or no to a short one-on-one interview for Schweitzer on Wednesday morning before the Pro-Am gets started.”
Adrienne patted Jenny’s arm. “Some battles just aren’t worth fighting. I’ll take this one when we get back to the hotel.”
“Okay.” Jenny’s voice sounded small.
The cab pulled up in front of their hotel, and Adrienne paid him before joining Jenny in the lobby. She glanced at her watch and then at her despondent assistant. “Hey, tell you what. Let me deal with Schweitzer’s manager now while you go and find us two comfy chairs in there.” She pointed to the hotel’s cozy-looking bar just beyond the lobby. “Order me a dry white wine, preferably something Californian, and whatever you want for yourself.” Jenny’s face lit up. “We’re taking the afternoon off, okay?”
“Aw, you’re the best, boss.” Jenny grinned. “Thanks.”
The call with Schweitzer’s manager took all of two minutes. When Adrienne hung up, she scowled. Egos, good God.
Yes, Laurie Schweitzer was currently world number two, and yes, she’d been on the tour for twelve years, but really, the way her manager had acted, you’d have thought Adrienne was asking for an audience with the Pope. She could only hope the golfer wasn’t as full of herself as her manager was.
