by Debra Kayn
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Contents
Wildly
Seductively
Conveniently
Secretly
Surprisingly
Crimson Sneak Peek
Wildly
Debra Kayn
Avon, Massachusetts
This edition published by
Crimson Romance
an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.
10151 Carver Road, Suite 200
Blue Ash, Ohio 45242
www.crimsonromance.com
Copyright © 2012 by Debra Kayn
ISBN 10: 1-4405-6407-8
ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-6407-9
eISBN 10: 1-4405-6408-6
eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-6408-6
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.
Cover art © 123rf.com
Acknowledgments
To Miranda — For all your help on keeping it real, and the many times you listened as I worked out the many directions Grayson wanted to take me. What a ride! Thank you!
To Hubs — Yeah, I’m still crushin’ on you, baby.
To my editor, Jess — For the wonderful work, for letting me keep my voice, and for loving Wildly as much as I do.
To my mom (and my dad who passed away) — Thank you for never missing a tennis match, softball game, basketball game and shelling out the money for all the tennis lessons, camps, and tournaments. Plus, the outfits, the hundreds of Nike shoes, the rackets, the strings, the cases and visors. It meant the world to me.
Contents
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
About the Author
Chapter One
Shauna Marino walked toward the front door of Schyler Tennis Center — or straight to hell — she wouldn’t know for sure until she stood before Grayson Schyler with her heart in her hand. With a toss of her hair and a fortifying breath, she forced herself to take the last remaining steps to face her past. If she’d planned the epic occasion better, she would’ve brought a bottle of tequila along to soften the outcome.
The wind caught the outer door and slammed it shut behind her with an ominous whoosh. She flinched, and then tried to hide her shaky reaction of being back in Grayson’s territory by wiping the palm of her hand on the front of her white tennis skirt. She hadn’t seen him in over six years, but the same anxiety-excitement-fear emotional cocktail threatened her resolve to pull this meeting off with class and calmness.
She inspected the front of her light pink, sleeveless polo shirt and flicked at an imaginary piece of lint. The odds were good that Grayson wouldn’t even recognize her. Not at first, anyway.
No longer the innocent teenager, gangly and wilder than the coastal winds, always diving headfirst into whatever feelings ruled the moment, she hoped to rekindle her friendship with Grayson. Before she could show him how much she’d changed though, she’d have to prove she’d left her old ways behind her.
“Hi. Can I help you?” To the right of the door, a young man behind the front desk stood up from his perch at the computer and approached the counter.
“I have a lesson with Grayson at eleven. My name’s Shauna.” She stared straight ahead, her heart beating wildly in her chest.
When she’d called and made the appointment, she’d left only her first name — spelled the wrong way to be on the safe side. The idea to keep Grayson in the dark about her return had seemed brilliant at the time. She didn’t want him reminded of how she’d made a complete fool of herself all through high school with her wild crush on him. She hoped the element of surprise would be enough to knock him speechless when they finally did come face to face.
Maybe then she would be able to utter the two words she should’ve said years ago. I’m sorry.
She looked up at the oversized poster of Grayson holding the Wimbledon trophy. Warmth beat out the nervousness inside her stomach, and she leaned forward. She’d never missed one of Grayson’s matches on television, or an opportunity to be with him back when she’d still lived at home. It seemed like her whole life revolved around loving Grayson.
He’d started out as her idol when she was twelve years old and he was nineteen. Then, during the winters, when he came home in the off-season to teach at the tennis center, she’d used whatever creative act she could think up to spend time with him. Despite their age difference, they’d become friends. He’d fascinated her with his world travels, his responsibilities, and his goals. He was the young man who thought she was a funny kid, and she’d done whatever possible to make him laugh.
Shauna caught herself tapping the counter with her fingernail and stopped.
Looking back, she knew she’d gone overboard more often than naught, much to the disgrace of the town. But she could also point out that she and Grayson had supported each other while they’d dealt with their own individual hurts. They’d connected on a level that exceeded the normal friendships that came and went. She rubbed her arm. He’d meant everything to her. Smart, ambitious, and compassionate, he’d shown her that someone cared about her.
It wasn’t until she’d turned sixteen that her world spiraled out of control, and she’d fallen head over heels in love with Grayson. She no longer saw him as her mentor, her coach, and she couldn’t accept why he’d suddenly pushed her away and left their friendship behind.
For two years, she’d gone to the extreme to reconnect with him, much to his anger. Finally, on her eighteenth birthday, she’d had enough. She was an adult, and he could no longer tell her she was a child and to stay away.
She’d shown up at his office with only her long coat covering her naked body. She swallowed at remembering how his eyes flared as she’d explained why she’d come to him. The intensity in which he’d jerked the edges of her coat closed, turned her around, and pushed her out the door devastated her.
After that, he had nothing to do with her and she’d finally accepted that she’d lost her best friend. On that horrible day when she’d decided to give everything to Grayson, her dad met her on the front porch when she’d arrived home, rejected, hurting, and broken. Grayson had ratted her out, and she was in trouble. Her stomach flipped and she inhaled deeply. Not long after, her father claimed to have had enough of her shenanigans and sent her away to college to grow up.
She’d done her best to
move on with her life, and experience more of the world while attending Cal State, to forget about her past. She’d excelled in school, made friends, and a new life for herself. But, the time had come to return to where she’d grown up and repair her reputation. “Are you a registered member here?” the clerk asked.
She shook her head. “No. A guest.”
At one time, she’d spent every day improving her game under the guise of being close to Grayson, but she’d dropped her membership and the sport completely when her dad surprised her and sent her to Cal State. She spun the handle of her graphite racket. Away from home, she’d waited for her feelings to change, but instead her feelings for Grayson had grown stronger.
“That’ll be thirty-five dollars.” The man held out his hand, and proceeded to scan her debit card before handing it back to her. “Grayson will be finishing his lesson in — ” he looked up at the clock “ — five minutes. Go ahead and go through the double doors behind you. You’ll be playing on the clay court. If you want to warm up now, you’ll be all ready when he’s done. If you need anything else, my name’s Daniel.”
“Thank you, Daniel.” She kept to the right of the counter, crossed the large lobby where onlookers gathered to observe the three indoor courts, and pushed through the double doors leading to the play area. Back to back, the grass, concrete, and clay surfaces provided every player the opportunity to practice on different playing fields.
She dawdled behind the ceiling-to-floor curtain used to block off the pathway behind the courts from flying tennis balls. She peeked between the openings of the fabric to the first court. What would one little look hurt?
Six feet away, Grayson stood with his back to her. Her stomach fluttered. All smooth, firm lines of his six-foot killer body, so close, so touchable, so out of her league. He hadn’t changed a bit.
He still wore his sandy brown hair longer than most guys did, the ends only beginning to curl as they skimmed the collar of his T-shirt. His broad shoulders bunched and bulged beneath his shirt. His strong arm swung the racket in a smooth arch, showing his raw talent for the sport.
She held her breath, afraid he’d sense her behind him. Her gaze lowered to the white tennis shorts hugging his muscular ass and pulling tighter every time he moved his legs. Solid legs that left her clenching the curtain in her hand for support. Legs she would’ve recognized anywhere.
“Last set, Jason. Let’s make each stroke count.” Grayson reached into his pocket and pulled out a tennis ball, effortlessly sailing it over the net with the ease of a lifetime of practice. “Follow through … ”
Shauna dropped the curtain, panting. Oh my God. What am I doing?
She hurried down the aisle to the appointed court and jogged out into the playing area. Keeping her back to the other players on the grass court, she raised the racket above her head with both hands and leaned to the side, stretching her back. Then she bounced on her toes and warmed up her leg muscles. At best, she hoped to muster up enough skill to play a decent game and hit the ball over the net.
If Grayson were willing to see past their history, if she could convince him she’d matured, if she proved her worth, maybe he’d believe that she’d returned a changed woman. She caught herself clutching the end of her skirt, and quickly rubbed any possible wrinkles out of the material. If she could step back into the community and erase her reputation as the wild girl of Cottage Grove, her life would finally get back on track from when she’d derailed at twelve years old.
She wasn’t coming back as Tony Marino’s daughter, or the child whose mother had abandoned her, or Grayson’s biggest pain in the ass.
Shauna would never live down all the embarrassing things she did in the name of love as a teenager. Trailing Grayson around town, telling everyone who would listen how much she loved him, leaving him gifts, even throwing herself at him, only to be turned down cold in the end. And all through it, the whole town was laughing at her, the wild child who was obsessed with the town’s golden boy.
No, she had a much more important job to do.
Two weeks ago, the city of Cottage Grove had hired her to head the Chamber of Commerce. She had plans, and if it were the last thing she tried to do, she’d impress everyone. And, maybe then, she could let go of all her guilt.
If she failed to prove she wasn’t going to hurt Grayson now that she was back, then she’d have to figure out a way to move on with the black cloud hovering over her. Granted it would be with a broken heart, but she’d survive. She always did.
Out of her peripheral vision, the curtain parted. She lowered her arms and faced her lifelong love with the grace of someone who knew exactly what she wanted, terrified she’d screw up once again. I can do this. I’ve changed. I’m strong. I’m mature. I’m … such a goner.
“Shauna?” Grayson held out his hand. “I’m your instructor, Grayson.”
She pried her tongue off the roof of her mouth and met his gaze while reaching for the handshake. If she accomplished anything, she hoped it was the ability to keep her game face on for the next hour. “Hello, Grayson.”
Chapter Two
Shauna’s sultry voice trickled over him like warm honey and his body hardened in male appreciation. How the hell could he have not met this woman before?
The corner of Shauna’s mouth twitched, and the most adorable dimple showed on her right cheek. Grayson sucked in his breath, his tennis racket fell to the court, and he stepped back. Oh, hell no.
He squinted, trying to see the girl who’d followed him around when she was younger. The girl who had used every excuse to flirt and throw herself at him. He shook his head. No. Not possible. She wasn’t supposed to come back.
The Shauna he knew wore her hair in a braid and no makeup, and always had a curious glint in her eye that left him glancing behind him for a way to escape. He studied her harder. Jesus. Is it … ?
Her thick, wavy black hair lay wild around her shoulders, accenting the green flecks in brown eyes meant to seduce men much like a cobra ready to strike. He stared at the front of her shirt and licked his lips. The large, firm breasts she used to hide under loose T-shirts pressed against the snug fabric, and he knew without touching her the plumpness would overflow in his hands.
He leaned down and picked up his racket, taking the time to follow the length of her long legs down to the new athletic shoes. “Why are you here?”
“I haven’t played for six years.” She inhaled a deep breath, which had him glancing up at her chest again. “I’m ready to get back in the game … ”
The rest of her words blurred in his mind, leaving him frowning. He studied the way she shrugged her shoulder and seemed almost self-conscious. Something clicked inside of him, but he had to be wrong.
He put his racket under his elbow and crossed his arms. “What are you up to?”
She paused long enough to let the question sink in, seemed to talk herself into answering, and nodded. “I have something important I’d like to talk over with you.”
“Now?” He struggled to talk past the constriction in his chest.
“Another time.” A smile fringed on the corner of her lips. “I paid for an hour’s worth of tennis, and I mean to have you all to myself for sixty minutes.”
Her admission struck a chord within him. He didn’t know whether to be enthralled or frightened. Unable to deny himself the pleasure of watching her run around, he raised his brow. He wasn’t going to give her an inch.
“Make that fifty minutes,” he said. “The clock’s ticking.”
“Then we better play.” She laid her racket over her shoulder, pivoted, and jogged to the other side of the court.
He watched the sway of her hips, the short ruffle of her skirt brushing her long legs, and groaned. Caught up in the past, remembering the last time he’d seen her lush body naked, he waited for her to get into position. The whole time, he wondered if she’d come back to make him pay for what he’d done.
Considering their history together, he had no idea how she was main
taining the calm demeanor. He was the mature one, the responsible one, the coach. He rotated his shoulders, hit the ball back across the net, and studied her. Her form was the last thing on his mind.
She’d changed. A lot. No longer uncoordinated, unsure, and unavailable. He ran up to the net, and smashed the ball on her side of the court. Victory was short as she ran after the ball.
It was unfair of him to take his frustration out on her. She was here for a lesson. Why?
He’d heard that from the moment she’d left Cottage Grove she’d forgotten to pick up the racket again. She’d submerged herself into school and her sorority. That was what he’d wanted for her. She wasn’t like him. Tennis was in his blood, but she’d had other things that pushed her in life. At one time, he took all her attention.
She’d flattered his young ego. He’d depended on her. And when he’d realized how he was feeling toward her, he’d sent her away.
He caught the toe of his sneaker on the court. The ball sailed past him, and he clenched his teeth together. If he didn’t start concentrating, she was going to kick his ass.
“Lengthen your arm. You’re still holding your elbow too close to your body.” He used his racket to drag a ball over to the side of his foot, and with a quick flick of his wrist, he caught the airborne ball. “Give me a forehand.”
She swung, extending her arm fully. He took in the length of her limb. Long, lean, and tan. She might only be five foot six, but her legs gave the allusion of height.
“Good.” He hit the ball to her.
Over and over, he drove the ball to her right side. He was an automatic machine, returning volley for volley without taking his eyes off her.
Why was she here?
No one had informed him of her coming for a visit. The last time he’d talked to her dad, he’d shared with him that Shauna was working close to where she’d gone to school. She was supposed to have a job in human resources or working in the office of some small business, and was supposed to be happy.
