Page 79 of Match Point

‘I didn’t dislike you.’ He hesitates. ‘Okay, maybe a little. But largely because you chucked wine at me. I got over that very quickly and then you just irritated me.’

‘Aw, that’s sweet. I feel so comforted.’

He arches an eyebrow, and lowers his voice. ‘It still didn’t stop me from thinking about you in that towel.’ I feel my cheeks heat while Kieran gives me a meaningful look. ‘Why do you care if Neil likes you anyway?’

‘Because he’s your coach. He’s… important.’

I realise that I’m entering uncharted territory here. I don’t want to lie to him and act as though I don’t care what the people in his life think of me, but I also don’t want to scare him off by acting like a girlfriend hoping for the approval of his friends and family.

‘I just think it would be easier in general if Neil likes me,’ I add. ‘So if he doesn’t want me to come to certain events, then maybe allow it.’

‘I appreciate the suggestion, but I disagree,’ Kieran replies with a shrug.

‘He probably thinks I’m a distraction. A bad one.’

‘Then he’s an idiot.’ Kieran frowns, before he peers down at me. ‘If anything, you make me want to do better.’

There’s something about that look he’s giving me that’s making my heart pound against my chest and sends a tingling warmth swirling through my veins. His gaze has softened now and he’s almost smiling, and it makes me want to throw my arms around him and kiss him tenderly, and tell him that I’m proud of everything he’s achieved. I’m here for him. I’ll keep cheering him on. I’ll hold him if he loses. Whatever he needs. I’m on his side.

Instead, I take a sip of my drink and say, ‘You are playing fairly well at the moment.’

‘Not too bad.’

‘It’s the pre-match blowing bubbles isn’t it.’

He laughs lightly, nodding. ‘The bubbles must be it.’

Someone accidentally knocks into Kieran’s shoulder as they pass by.

‘Sorry, mate – Kieran!’ The man’s apologetic smile falters.

Kieran stiffens, hostility oozing off him. I know the other guy is familiar but it takes a moment for me to realise that it’s Chris Courtney, the Australian tennis player and Kieran’s biggest on-court rival. The one who married Kieran’s ex-girlfriend painfully soon after she and Kieran broke up. While it’s safe to assume that the tabloids occasionally exaggerate or get celebrity private matters wrong, witnessing just one look between these two men is enough to tell me that all those articles about how much they dislike each other are spot on. They’re both so tall that they’re at the same eye level, serving each other the same hard stare. A couple of years older than Kieran, Chris has long, thick fair hair, hazel eyes and soft features. He’s good-looking in a boyishly handsome way.

Easing his shoulders and breaking into an easy-going grin, Chris shoves one hand in his pocket and holds out the other to Kieran. Reluctantly, Kieran takes it and they shake hands. The air between them is so cold, it sends a shiver down my spine.

‘How have you been, mate?’ Chris asks, dropping his hand.

‘Fine, thank you,’ Kieran replies icily.

‘You haven’t been doing too badly this week. Still got a few surprises up your sleeve, eh? Guess we’ll see how long it lasts,’ Chris says, tilting his head. When Kieran doesn’t respond, his eyes drift across to me and widen with intrigue. ‘I’m sorry, very rude of me. I’m Chris Courtney.’

I politely take his outstretched hand. ‘Flora.’

‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Flora,’ he says, his hand clasping mine for longer than necessary. He takes the opportunity to look me up and down. ‘A real pleasure.’

‘You too.’

Kieran’s hand is on the small of my back again and I instinctively lean into his side. Chris notices the gesture and looks bemused, putting all his attention on me.

‘Tell me, Flora, what do you do?’ he asks with a flirtatious smile.

‘Oh, um, not much. I was working as a PA, and then—’

‘She’s an artist,’ Kieran cuts in, nudging me with his hip.

‘An aspiring artist,’ I clarify, blushing.

Chris arches an eyebrow. ‘I’m sure you must be very talented.’

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