by Nicola Marsh
His lips compressed, like he didn't want to say the rest. "These jocks have women throwing themselves at them all the time. They're transient, moving from one tournament to another."
He shook his head. "You're smarter than that."
I swallowed the anger tightening my throat. Dad didn't need to lecture me on tennis jocks. He'd been one of them and while he'd been continent hopping, I'd been home with a nanny, watching my dad on TV and pining for him.
As for his social life, I had to give him credit. He'd never brought any of his girlfriends home when I was young and I’d known there'd been plenty. I'd seen the photos online when I was eight. There were thousands of pictures and in the ones of him in a tux, he had a different beautiful woman on his arm.
I'd been jealous, that he would spend time with them and not me. Wasn't until I'd hit my teens and he retired did some of my resentment fade as I wondered why he'd never remarried. We'd spent a lot of time together when the academy became his permanent home and he wasn't flying off to tournaments all the time. I treasured those times.
Like how I treasured my time with Kye, no matter how limited I knew it to be.
"I am smart, Dad, which is why you should trust me."
Some of his anger faded as he swiped a hand over his face. "I do, baby, but I just don't want to see you get hurt."
"I won't." My gaze drifted to Kye, smashing those damn balls like his life depended on it. "Kye's determined to take his tennis to the next level and believes he can do that while training here. Your support would mean a lot."
If Dad perceived I was talking about more than tennis, he didn't let on.
"Just be careful," he said, slinging an arm over my shoulder as we both watched Kye.
As I leaned into Dad and rested my head on his chest, I wondered if I'd achieved my goal of easing him into the idea of Kye and me being together, or if I'd screwed up majorly and ended Kye's career for good.
Chapter 15
KYE
I had a bad feeling about this.
My gut twisted with anxiety as Mia and Dirk watched me. What was she saying to him? If she mentioned our relationship, I was a dead man.
Not that we had a relationship, per se, but the fact I hadn't slept all night after deliberately blowing her off by revealing some of my innermost fears pretty much meant I wished we were involved.
But it was impossible. I had to stay focused. And every time I smashed a strong forehand or killer backhand down the line, albeit against a serving machine, took me one step closer to repaying my debt to Dad and getting what I'd craved since we'd first met: his approval.
My dad had said all the right things and done all the right things since he'd discovered I'd existed, but I suspected it was out of obligation rather than any great pride in having a son.
I often wondered if I'd deliberately fucked up by smashing that jerk's nose in Sydney to test Dad's commitment to me. Bizarre? Hell yeah, but the anger that bubbled up at times was fuelled by resentment: at losing Mum, at losing the only home I'd ever known, at losing my innocence way too young.
When most kids around me were heading to the skateboard ramp to swap footy cards, I was dodging syringes in back alleys and running errands for Mum's girls. Not that Mum knew. She would've killed me if she'd known the strippers were paying me pocket money to do odd jobs for them. Nothing illegal, thank God, but I'd seen enough of the seedy underworld as a kid to last a lifetime.
And that shit made me angry and resentful. Why did some kids get to have cushy lives and others didn't? Why did they have fathers who attended rugby games and school presentations, while I’d had to use my fists to fend off the insults aimed at Mum?
That despite doing her best to give us a good life, Mum had died anyway. Did I blame her for not telling Dad I'd been born? Shit yeah. But even if she had, would Australia's mega TV personality have wanted to know me?
Doubtful. Highly doubtful. Which made me question his motives at wanting to know me now even more. I couldn't fault him so far: he'd been supportive and understanding and had come through for me, even after I'd stuffed up and been kicked out of the academy.
But the disappointment I'd glimpsed when he'd looked at me that day? Like I'd told Mia, it's what drove me. Every single day.
I had to be a gun tennis player, the best Australia had seen, because I owed my dad. I had to repay his faith in me, even if I didn't deserve it.
When the machine shut off, I propped my racket against the net and collected all the balls, feeding them back into the machine. I'd have to go another round because no way in hell was I heading off this court while Mia still stood next to Dirk.
I couldn't look at her without remembering how she felt in my arms, the soft panting sounds she made when I was inside her, the feel of her tongue against mine.
Fuck. Not helping. I turned away and envisioned icebergs.
By the time I was ready to go again, Mia had left and Dirk was striding across the court toward me.
"Your down the line forehand needs refining," he said, handing me my racket. "But your backhand is looking strong."
"Thanks." I took the racket, wondering if I'd ever lose the sense of awe I felt in his presence.
Dirk Cresswell was tennis royalty. Fifteen Grand Slams. Held the record for the fastest serve in the world. Churning out world-class winners from his academy here with ongoing regularity.
I was lucky to be here. I knew that. He knew that.
What he didn't know was how close I'd come to throwing it all away by sleeping with his daughter.
I hoped.
"Heard you hung out with Mia yesterday?"
I was so fucked.
Using the poker face I'd honed through years of facing insults about my Mum at school, I nodded. "Yeah. She was kind enough to play tour guide."
"Mia's got a good heart." He stared off into the distance and I was grateful to escape that penetrating stare. "I'd hate to see anyone take advantage of that."
Shit. Was he warning me off because he suspected or he knew what we'd done?
"Mia's aware my focus is on improving my tennis while I'm here. I enjoyed our tour. But no one's taking advantage of anyone." I kept my tone light, devoid of emotion, desperate to get back to smashing balls and avoid any potential slip-ups.
Because unless Dirk was lulling me into a false sense of security before booting me out, he knew nothing and was just giving me the trite warning any father would give a guy like me.
"Glad to hear it." Dirk turned his head to stare at me and I felt the chill right down to my bones. "Because the thing is, Kye, I don't care how goddamn talented you are. And I don't give a rat's ass about your dad’s friendship."
He took a step closer, trying to intimidate. "If you mess with my daughter in any way, I'll personally kick your ass back to Sydney so quick your head will spin faster than my world record serve you seem so determined to beat."
With that, he turned and strode away, and I exhaled the breath I'd been inadvertently holding.
On the upside, he seemed to think I had talent.
On the downside, he'd confirmed what I already knew. Screw with Mia and I was out on my ass.
What if it were too late?
Chapter 16
KYE
Fourteen days into executing my grand plan of pushing Mia away, I wondered what the hell I was doing.
During the first week, I'd lost every single one of my practice matches in a major trial and been the laughing stock of my fellow trainees. In the second week, I'd lost my temper on court when a younger opponent had whipped the pants off me. And when I wasn't serving double faults or missing lobs, I was touchy, grouchy and thoroughly pissed off.
Not to mention the worst case of blue balls I'd ever had.
Wasn't like I'd had a ton of sex, despite what dickheads at school used to say because of where I lived and my access to strippers. But looked like having sex with Mia made me crave more, with her, in a big way and it was seriously putting me off my game.
I wasn't proud of the way I'd treated her both times—cold, aloof, almost cruelly cutting—but it was the only way to keep my sanity and keep my deal with myself, and Dad, unofficially.
Dirk's warning a fortnight ago only cemented what I already knew. Any involvement with Mia would spell the end of my stint here, and the end of my burgeoning tennis career.
The stupid thing? I wouldn't mind so much if it were only me involved, but the prospect of facing Dad's disappointment again? No way in hell I'd let that happen.
"Your game today sucked."
I glanced up from my squatting position where I was packing my bag, to see Mia standing over me, hands on hips, looking like an avenging angel in a mid-thigh white summer dress that made me want to drag her down to lose the halo.
"Tell me something I don't know," I muttered, zipping the bag and straightening. "I've got a post-match meeting with one of the coaches so I'll see you round—"
"You're avoiding me. I get it." She pinned me with a no-nonsense stare that alerted me to the fact this wouldn't be an easy brush-off like the other times. "Didn't pick you for a coward."
I glanced around, not wanting to have this conversation with witnesses. Everyone else had left, leaving me no excuse to bolt. "We've been through this, Mia. You know why we can't—"
"What? Why we can't be friends?" She wrinkled her nose. "Shit, Kye, I get why we can't be involved. You spelled it out pretty fucking clearly that night on the pier. But I thought …"
My heart fissured a little at the bleakness in her beautiful brown eyes. "What?"
She took a deep breath before blurting out, "I thought we had something beyond sex."
I wanted to say 'we did’. I wanted to say a lot of things. But none of them would make this any easier on either of us.
"You said fuck. Wow, you've been misinterpreting our time together a lot," I said, sounding deliberately flippant, and I saw the exact moment the sadness in her eyes morphed to anger.
"Want to hear it again?" She leaned in close and I braced against the relentless urge to haul her into my arms and bury my nose in her divine smelling hair. "Fuck you, Kye. I hope your self-delusions keep you warm at night."
With that, she stalked away, all long, tanned legs and indignation.
I wanted to run after her.
I wanted to tell her everything.
Instead, with my heart as leaden as my legs, I picked up my bag, hoisted it over my shoulder, and waited until she'd disappeared into the clubhouse before heading for the showers.
Chapter 17
MIA
"So what's with you and the boy from Oz?" Dani gestured toward the clubhouse bar where a group of jocks were gathered. "Summer fling over?"
"Something like that." I took a swig from my beer, my gaze fixed on Kye.
If looks could kill, he'd be six feet under.
"Pity," Dani said, downing half her Margarita in a gulp. "He's hot."
Didn't I know it.
I also knew that Kye Sheldon was an arrogant, lying prick.
He thought I was an idiot who'd buy into his whole push-me-away act. Dumbass. But I was done trying to approach him. He'd made sure of that yesterday with his deliberate snide-ness.
Too bad for him I didn't give up easily. And I could play childish games just as well as he could.
"You like him." Dani's eyes narrowed as her curious gaze flicked between the two of us. "Really like him."
"Maybe." My noncommittal response hid a world of hurt. Because I more than 'liked' Kye. Which was totally crazy, because we barely knew each other and hadn't spent a lot of time together, but there was something about him that made me feel … special.
"He's playing hard to get, huh?"
I nodded. "It's complicated, him being at the academy and Dad's overprotectiveness."
Dani's brow crinkled. "That hasn't stopped your dad foisting you off on those boring tennis jocks in the past."
"That's because he could control those guys …" It came to me in a flash, why I really liked Kye.
I liked his underlying hint of wildness, his nonconformity, his confidence in himself to go it alone.
He possessed all those admirable qualities I didn't.
I was drawn to him because of it and it only served to intensify my feelings.
He'd accused me of slumming it at the start, of taking a walk on the wild side for a night. That may have been true but now that I'd been on the wild side, I wanted more. I craved it. And I hated being denied.
"By the looks of your bad boy Aussie, no-way no-how Dirk could control him." Dani popped a peanut into her mouth, chewed, then smirked. "Bet the Aussie got warned off you by Daddy Dearest."
I'd wondered the same thing myself after my chat with Dad. He'd know the power he held over Kye's future and if it came to protecting me, I was damn sure Dad would use it.
"Doesn't mean Kye had to listen," I muttered, draining the rest of my beer before slamming the bottle on the table.
"No balls," Dani said, pushing the peanut dish toward me.
I shook my head and nudged it back. "He has them, and they're magnificent."
Dani let out a whoop that had several of the guys at the bar glancing our way. Except Kye. He deliberately turned his back on me.
"Brrr … chilly." Dani rubbed her upper arms and pretended to shiver. "Hey, I know how we can have some fun."
If Dani suggested visiting the local male revue club again, I'd pass. The only naked male body I wanted to see was Kye's.
"How?"
She leaned across the table and cupped her hands before whispering, "Make the Aussie jealous."
"Uh-uh." I shook my head, not wanting to go down that route. I didn't want to give some other guy the wrong idea and lead him on, and despite how much Kye's cold behavior had hurt me, I didn't want to hurt him.
Dani snapped her fingers under my nose. "Wake up, sweetie. The Aussie is a tennis jock, which means he's driven by testosterone like the rest of his Neanderthal species. He understands competition. He thrives on it and is driven to win."
Dani sat back, smug. "What if you were the prize?"
Okay, when Dani put it like that, a small part of me couldn't help but agree. Nothing else I'd said or done had made an impact with Kye. I'd watched him at warm-ups, I'd turned up at his practice games, and I'd tried confronting him. Nada success on all counts.
What if making him jealous was the one thing to snap him out of his self-imposed no-go zone?
"So you think I should flirt with one of those dead-heads?" I pointed at the bar and Dani's eyes lit up.
"Abso-frikking-lutely." She rubbed her hands together. "Now, let's see. Who'd be best to make the Aussie green?"
I scanned the guys, not feeling the remotest buzz despite a few of them being really cute. They all had great bodies; that was a given considering how hard they worked out at the academy. And some of them had nice smiles. But none came close to giving me the electrifying zap I felt when I looked at Kye.
"How about him?" Dani pointed to the tall guy at the end of the bar nearest Kye. "Cute ass in denim. Broad pecs. Well defined biceps. Prominent bulge—"
"Okay, he'll do," I said, cutting off what could be one of Dani's detailed fantasized accounts of how the proportion of the bulge equaled screaming orgasms. "Wish me luck."
I stood, grateful when the waiter deposited another round of drinks at our table at that moment, providing me with an extra dose of liquid courage. I downed my beer as fast as I could gulp, savoring the head rush and hoping it would last.
"Go get him, girlfriend," Dani said, grinning as I slipped off my watch and slid it into my bag before making a beeline for the bar.
As if sensing my approach, Kye's shoulders stiffened and he didn't turn around.
I'd soon remedy that.
Insinuating my way betwee
n Tall Guy and a baby-faced guy I recognized as Kye's practice partner, I subtly bumped arms with my intended. "Excuse me. Do you have the time?"
Tall Guy stopped talking with Baby Face and glanced at me, initial irritation giving way to interest when he saw me. "Sure, Mia, but only if you agree to have a drink with me."
"Deal." I nodded, flashing what I hoped was my best flirtatious smile as I heard a subdued growl from Kye over Tall Guy's shoulder.
Good. I'd captured his attention. Time to ramp it up. "By the way, I don't know your name?"
I laid a hand on Tall Guy's arm and resisted batting my eyelashes, just.
"Pete." His grin was too predatory for my liking and I removed my hand. "Though I would've hoped you wouldn't have to ask, what with my heading the leader board of the in-house tournaments."
Ugh. He had an ego to match his height.
"I don't get to all the games, but I'll be sure to try and make more of yours," I said, laying it on thick.
"I'll look out for you." The way his stare roved my body, I just bet he would. "What would you like to drink?"
There was a difference between alcohol-fuelled courage and fuzzy brain syndrome that might make me do something stupid, so I settled for a safe option.
"Lime and soda, please." I added a fake giggle to convince Pete I needed a soda and not more alcohol.
His eyebrows rose. "Hey, we're the ones forced to abstain." He leaned in close, too close, and my skin prickled with distaste. "Why don't you indulge? Go wild?"
I would. With Kye. Who had turned at the sound of my stupid fake laugh and was now staring at me with concern.
I should've been happy I'd captured his attention, but all I felt was anger. A deep-seated fury that he'd left me no choice but to resort to childish games to get his attention, when all I wanted was to have some one-on-one time with him, chatting and laughing and having fun, like we did in LA.
"What the hell, make it a vodka, lime and soda." With Kye looking on, I gazed up at Pete adoringly, while pressing my arm against his. "I'm all for going wild."
