Page 12 of Match Point

“Good to know. Now can you do that serve again? And this time, try not to kill me in the process?” He moved to the side and refreshed the phone app. Time to put things back on a professional level. The less he knew about her personal life the better. They weren’t friends but colleagues.

“If I wanted to hit you, I would have. Consider it a warning.” She performed the serve with a loud grunt. The ball landed about a foot from him.

“You mean like that?” Glancing down at the screen, he grinned at her open defiance. She had spunk. The confidence she showed on the court was promising. “If you put as much effort into your game as getting pissed at me, you’d hold the world record for a serve.”

Cheeks reddened from the exertion, she shook her hands, turning in a circle and loosened her shoulders. “Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?”

“I have a date.” Why had he admitted that to her? She was the reason he insisted on meeting Kat mid-week instead of on the weekend like they had planned. He’d video-chatted with Kat on numerous occasions, but this was the first face-to-face.

“A date?” She rocked back on her heels and cocked her head. The disbelief in her expression was a bit insulting. “You have a date?”

“Yes, there are women out there who actually like me.” He needed someone to distract him from his growing obsession with Sorcha. Was Kat that woman? He enjoyed their long conversations and the flirtatious texting. She was recently divorced and wanted to take it slow. He was okay with that. They weren’t exclusive by any means. He wanted to get there but the timing wasn’t right. The timing is never right with you when it comes to women. “She’s meeting me here.”

“You didn’t pick her up?” Sorcha arched a brow, spinning the racket in her hand.

It was a habit of hers. He had noted in the footage he’d seen of her. After his date, he intended to sit down and watch more of them. He could only take so much of Sorcha at a time. She was intense and he was on edge while around her. “She’s meeting me here.”

“Smart woman. That way if it doesn’t work out, she can sneak out the bathroom window or you can.” She arched her back, breasts pushing against the top. Nice and round, they would be a perfect fit in his palm. Blood began to pool in places that weren’t conducive to his peace of mind. He was supposed to be going on a date with Kat, not lusting after the contrary woman who infuriated him on the flip of a dime.

“The bathrooms don’t have windows, that’s why I chose this place.”

She tilted her head and inspected him, as if she were trying to puzzle him out. “Smart.”

“I have my moments.” He cleared his throat, his need to separate himself from her warring with an innate desire to clear the air. Caution won out. He was her manager, not her friend or her boyfriend. Or her lover. He would keep his weakness from her and reveal only his strengths.

He had a little over a month to whip her into shape, and the battle would be uphill all the way for them both.

Chapter Nine

Sorcha poured a glass of wine and walked outside to the back patio, book in hand. She settled in a recliner near the infinity pool. Opening the book, she read the first line. A heavy weight landed on her, the wine in her glass sloshing over her wrist. The dog’s paws pushed into her stomach and breath rushed from her lips. She arched her neck in time to keep a long, pink tongue from licking her mouth.

A man in a Stone’s t-shirt came jogging across the newly laid lawn. “Shit, sorry about that. Just push him off.”

“Easy for you to say,” she laughed, the dog’s hair tickling her chin. The enthusiastic dog tried his best to slather her face with doggie kisses, his thin body wiggling for all it was worth.

The man grabbed the dog’s collar and tugged him off her. “Bull, meet china shop.”

“You must be Trent, the dog-sitter.”

“And you’re Sorcha Templeton, tennis goddess extraordinaire. Or do you prefer Princess?” Bleach-blond hair flopped over his forehead; the sides shaved close.

“While I’m flattered, I prefer plain Sorcha. I was just having a glass of wine. Well, a half glass now. Would you like to join me?” She put her hand over her eyes to better see him. Of average height, he was well-muscled with an edge of boyish charm.

“Yes, to joining you. No to the drink. Alcoholic, three years sober. Although I’d gladly get you a refill since Vegas Baby here knocked your other one over.” He led the dog over to the shade and snapped a leash onto its collar before he poured some food into its bowl. “That’ll take care of him for a minute.”

“Vegas Baby, what a unique name for a dog.”

“He has unique owners.” He smiled at her, and she noticed a scar running from his lip to the corner of his eye, the imperfection ruining the symmetry of his handsome features.

She sipped at her wine, liking the guy. “I’m fine with what I have.”

“What are you reading?” he asked, eyeing her book.

“A novel.” She tucked it close to her chest, unsure why she was embarrassed by his question.

“A smutty novel? With some hot hunky guy whose imperfections make him perfectly fuckable?” He moved to the small outdoor kitchen and retrieved a bottle of iced tea.

“Perhaps.” An instant flash of Leo on the massage bed rushed through her mind and she released a nervous snort. Thinking about Leo was dangerous on so many levels. He was out on a date. With a woman. Not that she’d thought he was gay.

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