Page 13 of Match Point

“There are no shortage of hunky guys who hang around this house on any given day,” Trent said. “Most of them are straight, but some of them are in the closet. I find it entertaining to knock on their back doors, if you know what I mean.”

“You’re bad.” She clutched the wine glass and tried to stifle the bark of laughter. His grin widened and she lost all pretense of control.

“No honey, I’m really good, but that’s beside the point. What is a goddess like yourself doing hanging out reading romance novels? You can have any straight guy you want.”

“I like romance novels because they always have a happy ending. You have to admit, they’re not anymore far-fetched than a sci-fi or fantasy book.” She had been an avid reader her entire life and believed in happily-ever-after. Until her dad died, she hadn’t thought about marriage much and had even turned down a proposal from her ex-boyfriend. She was young and had all the time in the world until his loss had proven how short life was. Perhaps she should start dating again, instead of staying up half the night reading. Except dating for her was complicated. She never knew if a man wanted her or wanted something from her.

His smile dimmed and he took a sip of his tea.

“I said something to insult you.” She tapped her nail against the wine glass. While she and Leo butted heads on a continual basis, she got along with most people, at least off the court.

He sat down on the other lawn chair and rested his arms on his knees. “No, you didn’t insult me. You reminded me of something my ex-wife said.”

“You had a wife?” she asked, biting her lip. She had assumed by his comments that he was gay.

“Had being the operative word. I married her because—believe it or not—I’m a hopeless romantic and I thought—never mind what I thought. I’m sure you don’t want to hear about me.” He rubbed his hand over his face, the gesture endearing and a bit heartbreaking.

She tossed the book aside and nodded, sympathizing. He was lonely, she could see it in his eyes. She was also lonely and could use a friend. “I do, and not because I’m bored, although I am. My friends are all in Ireland or on tour and I’m in a strange place stuck with Leo as my manager and trainer.” Leo, who was eating dinner with some faceless woman. Stiff, odd Leo.

The dog started to whine, his big brown eyes boring into Sorcha’s soul.

Trent dropped his hand, the tea bottle dangling between his fingers. The touch of sadness disappeared, and a grin took its place. He wiggled his eyebrows. “It could be worse. At least he’s nice to look at.”

“True but he’s, ummm, difficult to deal with at times,” she admitted, climbing out of her chair and sitting next to the dog on the warm cement. Sorcha had been surrounded by many people since her career took off. Rarely was she physically alone the way she was now. It was at once humbling and comforting to know she didn’t need anyone else. That wasn’t entirely true. She needed Leo to help her get into shape, although it pained her to admit it.

“I call it smart man’s syndrome. He has a genius I.Q., which doesn’t always translate into people skills, but once you get to know him, he has a wicked sense of humor. The guy cracks me up.”

“That would explain a lot.” Leo possessed a dry sense of humor that was coming out the more she got to know him. They were far from friends, nor did she think they ever would be. He held her at arm’s length, and she was okay with that. Or was she?

“Not to sound desperate, but would you like to join me for dinner? I ordered Indian food and it should be here pretty soon.”

Excitement lit his eyes, and he flipped the bottle upside down, sloshing the liquid around. “I don’t have plans until later. Do you do this often? Invite strange men to dinner?”

She buried her fingers in the dog’s soft fur and the large animal plopped down in her lap, his big head resting on her thigh. Her own dog had died a few years before and she’d never gotten another because of her hectic schedule. “No, I’m usually the one who gets asked out.”

“I could see that. You’re even more stunning in person, and before you tell me to shut up, no. I’m sorry, I can’t stop. I’m a huge fan ever since you nicknamed yourself the Tennis Court Princess.” His enthusiasm was contagious. “Genius name. A guy I made out with at the bar was wearing one of your signature t-shirts, the LBGTQ rainbow one, and I just had to have it. It’s in my car, will you sign it?”

The clothing line was her bread and butter and she used part of the proceeds to raise awareness for a multitude of issues, from LBGTQ rights to helping children worldwide. Tennis was a labor of love. Or at least it used to be. “Sure. But I’m curious, if you only made out with him, why isn’t he wearing his shirt?”

“Because I talked him into trading shirts with me in exchange for a cage dance at Spanking tonight. If you haven’t guessed already, it’s a gay bar.”

She nodded, twirling a loose piece of string on her jean shorts. “I kind of figured that out. How did you happen to know I was staying here?”

“There’s no happen about it. Raina told me. She and I are besties. She said she hadn’t met you yet, but you’ll love her. And baby Ash. The kid is irresistible.”

“I’m sure I will.” She offered a friendly smile, her mind spinning. Trent would be a gateway into some of the questions Leo was too stubborn to answer. If she played it right, she could finagle her way into his plans for the night and ferret out more information. “Would it be tacky of me to tag along with your… um, date? It’s rather quiet here.”

A smile split his lips and he shook his head. “It’s not a date, just a hookup. He’s not really my type but… no, it wouldn’t be tacky at all. You’ll be the belle of the proverbial ball. Of course you can come.”

Chapter Ten

Leo hung his jacket in the closet and slipped off his shoes. His date had been a success as far as first dates went. She was pretty, funny, and was a stickler for promptness, a woman after his own heart. At least he hoped, over time, she might capture it.

He plopped down on the couch. Grabbing his laptop from the coffee table, he powered it on. The last few dates he’d been on before Kat were flops for one reason; he was more interested in fucking than dating them. Kat, like himself, was okay with trying for something more long term. His friends would scoff at him for being old-fashioned, but he needed someone to mentally challenge him outside of the bedroom.

Like Sorcha challenged him.

Tapping on his email app, he clicked on an email address, pulse pounding. He scanned the attachment and blew out a breath. A familiar disappointment washed over him. Yet another dead end. He’d hired a private investigator to find his mother, who’d been deported from the United States to Nicaragua after his father was killed in the Middle East. Ever since he’d received his first paycheck, he’d been looking for her with no luck. His one consolation was there were no death records, thus it was highly likely that she was still alive. But where?

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