Game. Set. Match.

by Jennifer Iacopelli

  “Please don’t say anything to him,” she said, avoiding his eyes. When he looked at her like that, it was so different than from before, back on the court.

  He lifted a hand and ran it through his hair. “So he doesn’t know?”

  Penny shook her head. “No, I told him nothing happened.”

  Alex pursed his lips and a muscle in his jaw clenched. “And of course he believed you. No wonder he offered me a spot here. If he knew I’d shagged his star player…”

  “Nice,” she said with a snort, stepping around him and breaking into a measured run.

  Again, he caught up with her in a matter of seconds. “Don’t take offense, love. Despite what they say, I’m rather choosey, as I’m sure you are. And you can’t deny we were fantastic together.”

  “You were fine,” she said, a smile quirking up at the corner of her mouth. “I was fantastic.”

  Alex raised his eyebrows, but didn’t take her bait. Instead, his eyes twinkled at her and for a moment she almost forgot she hated when he did that. “You were at that.”

  They fell back into silence, though a much more comfortable one than before as they approached the last and most difficult part of the tour, running on the sand. They were halfway across the beach when his pace started to slow. Penny glanced down out of the corner of her eye and saw his gate was a little labored, favoring his left leg.

  She stopped and looked up at him as he did too, the sun light shining behind his head, making her squint. “Is your knee okay for this?” The sand was soft, much looser than their clay practice court or the low-impact rubberized paths they’d just run on. The unstable surface could be hell on a recovering joint, especially after all the work they’d just put in.

  “Concerned? I’m touched.”

  “Purely selfish. I’ll never be able to find another practice partner this close to the French.”

  “Right, of course,” he muttered. “I told you, the knee is fine or do you need me to kick your ass on the court again to prove it? Let’s go.”

  They ran together, his strides as smooth as her own. The practice courts came into view as they passed the last of the vacation homes attached to OBX property.

  “Hang on a tick,” Alex said, coming to a halt just as she was about to tackle the long wooden stairway that led up from the beach.

  “What? We’ve already taken too long.”

  “C’mon, love, wait,” he said, grabbing her arm. She froze and looked up at him.

  “I asked you not to touch me.”

  “Right,” he said, pulling his hand away, running it over the back of his neck. He shifted his weight back and forth, looking at her, but not quite meeting her eye. “I just wanted to tell you I won’t say anything to Dom.”

  She stood stunned, not really sure what to say, so she settled for, “Thanks.”

  His eyes sparkled at her. What kind of cruel God would give a man like him the ability to make his eyes shine at her like she was the only woman in the world?

  “Purely selfish,” he said, throwing her words back at her and breaking the moment, “don’t want him to kick me out on my arse.”

  Penny rolled her eyes and snorted out a breath. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  They took the stairs together and then through unspoken agreement, sprinted the last twenty meters or so to their practice court. Dom was waiting for them, leaning up against the exterior fence. “You two ready to get back to work?”

  “Let’s do this,” she said, heading out onto the court.

  “What she said,” Alex added.

  “Excellent.” Dom followed them through the gate and took a seat at center court. “Penny, you serve.”

  “Defensive game, right?” she asked, picking up her racket and taking a quick swig from her water bottle.

  Dom shook his head. “Forget what I said earlier, both of you. You’re thinking too much. Just play.”

  Penny furrowed her brow, but then shrugged. Dom was her coach, if he asked her to stand on her head, she would.

  Alex stood on the opposite side of the court, lunging from side to side, and for a split second, she thought his face scrunched into a wince, but a moment later, it was gone. He twirled his racket in his hands and then nodded. He was ready.

  She served out wide, hoping to catch him expecting her usual first serve down the center of the court, but his body reacted, instinctively, striding left and returning the ball back to her as she raced up to the net and put away his return with a short volley.

  “Good job, P,” Dom called. “Much better. You didn’t force anything, even when he got that serve back. Good. Alex, let me see one from you.”

  Alex kicked at one of the balls at the back of the court, lifting it with his toe and popping it up into the air before catching it on his racket.

  Penny rolled her eyes, but set herself. He stretched his neck back and around, before settling his feet, bouncing the ball into the clay. A quick inhale and he sprung into the serve, straight up the middle of the court.

  She stuck out her racket and managed a return, taking a crossover step to the center of the court as he chased it down. They kept the rally going, neither of them backing down, not giving the other even the slightest opening. Penny hit a slice backhand over the net, hoping to catch him off balance, but instead, he ran around it and fired a forehand down the line, well out of her reach, for a winner.

  “Damn good job, Al!” Dom yelled from the sideline. “Perfect shot selection and you waited for the right moment to strike. Okay, that’s it. End on a good note. I’ll see you two in the gym this afternoon.”

  Dom left the court with a spring in his step.

  Alex leaned against the net. His hair, damp and darker with sweat, was longer than it’d been in Australia. Penny flexed her hand and then clenched a fist, digging her nails into her palm, trying to quash the urge to run her fingers through it. He smiled at her and asked, “So, you want to grab lunch?”

  Penny smiled back and said, “No,” before spinning on her toe and walking straight off the court, not having to look back to relish the look of shock on his face. She imagined he didn’t hear that word very often.

  Instead of heading for the locker room, she made a sharp left as she entered the atrium and made straight for one of the video rooms. Dom had satellite TV installed at OBX so they could screen matches of the players for everyone else still training at home, but with nearly everyone on campus right now, the room was empty. Penny turned on the television and quickly found the channel airing the matches from Rome. The tournament was in full swing and Zina Lutrova was making mince meat out of her opponents, looking a hell of a lot better than she had in Madrid.

  The Russian star was up a set and two breaks on her opponent, Giselle Beauchamp of France, the eighth-ranked player in the world. Lutrova’s famous high-pitched shriek echoed through the speakers as she powered a forehand past a lunging Beauchamp. Penny shook her head. Even on clay, Lutrova’s forehand was super strong. It was why she could almost forgive Dom for bringing in Alex. He was the perfect practice partner if she wanted to take out the Russian on clay. Obviously, his shots were more powerful, but he was even more accurate than the women’s number one player, forcing her level of play higher with every rally. If she could just get her head together, she would be fine. Easier said than done, though.

  Her thoughts were cut short when the scent of melted cheese and pepperoni wafted into the room. Her mouth watered. She craned her neck backward and saw Jack standing in the doorway, a pizza box balanced against his hip.

  “I hate you,” she muttered, turning back to the screen. “Did you bring that in here just to torture me?” It was one of the last things she grasped about being a great player; you could train as hard as you liked, but if you filled your body with crap, it all pretty much went to hell.

  “No you don’t. You love me,” Jack said, plopping down next to her seat and holding the pizza box in his lap. The smile plastered across his face bordered on stupidly big, his dimple popping
out and his eyes nearly closed.

  “Why’s that?” she asked, keeping her eyes trained on the TV where Lutrova had three match points.

  “Why don’t you check out the pizza and you’ll find out,” he said, shoving the box into her hands.

  “Fine, but it’s not like I can actually eat any…” Her voice trailed off as she took in the pizza pie, pepperoni spread across the center spelling out the word, NIKE. She looked up at Jack then down to the pizza and then to Jack again. “Are you serious?”

  “Got the phone call a half hour ago. They’ve upped their offer and totally blew away everyone else’s. It’s exactly what we’ve been hoping for, Pen. They want you to be the new face of their tennis line. They’re calling you America’s Sweetheart, and if you fulfill even just a few of the incentives in this contract, it’ll be worth close to fifty million dollars.”

  It took a moment for Jack’s words to sink in. Nike wanted her and they were willing to invest a huge amount of money to get her. Suddenly Alex Russell and his twinkling eyes and Zina Lutrova and her powerful groundstrokes didn’t matter.

  “This is…I can’t…” She trailed off, tears starting to burn at the corners of her eyes. This deal wasn’t only about her; it was about her family too. If she was careful and invested wisely, that kind of money would ensure her children’s grandchildren would never have a financial worry a day of their lives and Teddy could have whatever kind of car he wanted. “Thank you, Jack. Thank you so much!”

  “Don’t thank me, Pen. This is all you,” he said, picking out a piece of pepperoni from the pie and smirking at her as he chewed.

  “Oh shut up,” Penny said, grabbing him into a huge bear hug, the pizza forgotten as it slid off her lap and onto the floor.

  Chapter 6

  May 16th

  The junior practice courts echoed with the sound of balls hitting rackets, feet scrambling to set up a shot and Dom’s voice as he paced back and forth, shouting corrections at each and every girl. The sun was setting and a cool breeze came in off the water, a little relief from the heat they’d been working in all day. The muscles in Jasmine’s forearm quivered as she hit yet another forehand. She watched as across the practice court, Indiana set herself for a backhand and returned the ball over the net.

  “Better, Indy, better,” Dom called from the sideline of the practice court and Jasmine felt his focus shift to her as Indy’s shot traveled toward her. “Now, Jasmine, step into this one.”

  Another forehand. That was the point of this drill, forcing them to use their worst strokes, fine-tuning them until their weaknesses became strengths. That was the idea anyway, but mostly it was just a struggle. Jasmine crossed over and attacked the ball, but her shot felt the same as the last, a little uncomfortable and not nearly as powerful as she wanted it to be, even against someone whose footwork was as bad at Indy’s.

  Jasmine frowned as the other girl took a crossover step and lined up another backhand. Okay, so her footwork wasn’t quite the mess it was a few days before, but it was still miles from where it should be.

  “Don’t drop your shoulder, Indiana!” Dom yelled as Indy’s shot landed well short of where it should have. “Come on now, Jas. Don’t let her get away with that shot.”

  Jasmine took three small steps forward, keeping her shoulders aligned with her hips and hit a cross-court forehand past the tall blond girl.

  “Nice job, ladies,” Dom said and then raised his voice over the shuffling feet and racket thwacks echoing from the attached practice courts where other junior girls were performing the same drill. “That’s all, girls. Hit the showers, and don’t forget—the Classic Coaches and Players Reception is tomorrow night. I expect everyone to be there by seven sharp to greet our guests.”

  Jasmine spun away from the court and went straight for her bag. It had been a long, grueling day and she was glad it was over.

  “Great shot, Jasmine,” Addison said as she jogged over from her court and started digging through her bag. Lara was right behind her.

  “Thanks, I really feel like my forehand is getting there.”

  “It totally is and we’re going to kill at Classic,” Lara said, holding out her fist for Jasmine to bump.

  They knocked knuckles and Jasmine glanced quickly at Addison. The other girl had a pinched look on her face, but just shrugged when Jasmine met her eye.

  “Just kick Gaffney’s ass off the court,” Addison said to Lara, who’d be facing Indiana in the first round.

  “Don’t worry. She’s not going to know what hit her,” Lara promised. They looked over to the other side of the court where Dom was talking to Indy about something.

  “Have you been working on your returns during free session?” Jasmine asked. Lara was a good player, but it wouldn’t matter how good she was if she couldn’t get Indy’s serve back.

  Lara opened her mouth and was about to answer when Dom called out from across the court. “Jasmine, hang out for a minute, okay?”

  She nodded. The other girls gathered their things and left. Jasmine hitched her bag over her shoulder and approached Dom and Indy.

  “The footwork is getting there, but you need to keep at it. Do you understand what I mean, Indiana?” Dom was asking as Jasmine approached.

  “Yeah, I get it,” Indy said, but stopped talking as soon as Jasmine got closer.

  “So what’s up?” Jasmine asked, looking up at Dom.

  “Harold Hodges from Athlete Weekly is here to do a feature on Alex and Penny. He’s going to cover the Classic too and he’s agreed to interview the both of you.”

  Jasmine’s mouth dropped open and she looked back and forth between her coach and Indiana. “Both of us?”

  “Yep, he wants to paint a picture of the rising talent in American tennis. He wasn’t sure if it would fit into the schedule, but he’s got Penny and Alex down at the beach for a photo shoot right now, so he’s got time to talk to you two.” Dom rocked back on his heels.

  Her mouth was suddenly dry and Jasmine swallowed quickly, trying to understand what was happening. Dom wanted Harold Hodges to talk to her…and Indiana?

  Dom led them from the practice courts and down to the beach where a photo shoot was in full swing. Wind kicked up from off the water, swirling sand around the two objects of the photographer’s lens, Penny Harrison and Alex Russell. The photographer’s angle was obvious. Penny was in an all white tennis dress with a gold Nike swoosh logo across her chest. Alex stood right beside her in a black T-shirt and black tennis short, no logos, no sponsors, just himself.

  Standing at the bottom of the stairs was Caroline Morneau, one of the top agents in the world. Jasmine recognized her from parties her parents used to drag her to when she was little.

  “Dominic, you did not even let them shower?” Caroline asked now, shaking her head.

  Dom just ignored her and turned to them, “Stay here, girls.” Then he strode down the beach a little further closer to the photo shoot.

  Caroline began digging through her large bag. “Men, they never think of these things.” She pulled a hairbrush out of her bag and handed it to Indiana. “Fix your hair so you do not look like a crazy woman for your first big interview. Just think of all the buzz this will create. Everyone will be talking about you!” Then she left them as well, kicking off her stiletto heels and carrying them down the beach with her, heading straight for Dom.

  Jasmine took a deep breath and then turned to Indiana. “Is Caroline Morneau your agent?” she snapped.

  Indy yanked her hair out of her ratty, sweaty ponytail and shrugged. “She thinks she is.”

  Jasmine tried to keep her reaction off her face, clenching her back teeth. One of the best agents in the world wanted to rep this girl with the terrible footwork and zero track record. Meanwhile, her parents wouldn’t even let her hire an agent. They kept saying she should keep her amateur status, just in case. In case of what, she had no idea.

  “That’s great,” Jasmine managed to choke out.

  “Yeah, well, we’
ll see,” Indy said, her eyes focused down the beach as she pulled her new ponytail tight. Jasmine followed the direction of her stare and it landed on Jack Harrison, who was watching the photo shoot intently, like he did everything in his little sister’s career.

  “You want Jack Harrison instead?” Jasmine asked, more to herself than to Indy, but then she turned back to the other girl.

  “What?” Indy asked, turning to her with her eyes wide.

  “You want Jack Harrison?” Jasmine repeated herself.

  “To be my agent? No.” Indy’s nose wrinkled. “I think Dom’s calling us.”

  Dom was waving from down the beach, standing next to a short, balding middle-aged man in a golf shirt and khakis, Harold Hodges, who had Caroline at his other arm, listening to her intently.

  There were lots of people around, makeup artists, the photographer’s assistants and they all seemed really busy, but it all barely registered for Jasmine. Her mind was still reeling. Nothing had ever blown her mind quite like this before, except maybe when Teddy kissed her. No, even that paled in comparison. Her whole life, her entire tennis career had been leading up to these next few days when she’d take on the best the world had to offer and now, suddenly, she had to share it.

  “Okay, I think that’s it,” the photographer shouted, drawing her from her thoughts.

  Penny marched away from Alex without a word, straight up the beach. Alex watched her go for a moment, and then with a shake of his head, turned and walked toward Caroline Morneau.

  “Hey, they’ve got you doing this too?” Penny asked when she finally reached them, but she was still looking at Alex.

  It took Jasmine a second to realize that Penny wasn’t talking to her, at least not only her. Then she remembered breakfast yesterday. Indy showed up with Penny and then sat with the other Harrisons. Obviously they were friends, though she had no idea how. Except Teddy knew Indy from her first day, so of course the new girl would use that angle to get in cozy with OBX’s best player. She’d reeked of ambition from the moment she stepped onto the practice court just a week before the OBX Classic. Trying to buddy up with Penny Harrison definitely wasn’t beneath her.