Page 42 of Match Point

“Good, because you and Tucker are invited. If you’re interested, of course,” Howler said, tucking his phone into his pocket.

“Okay,” she said, looking back down at the menu. Two days. In two days, she’d meet Miller face-to-face for the first time.

Howler stood and lay his napkin on the table. “I’m going to run to the restroom. Tell the waiter I want the tiramisu and a cup of coffee.”

“I’ll go with you.” Tucker stood as well and followed Howler. “Coffee and tiramisu sound good.”

“Mm, tiramisu,” Sorcha said.

Leo tried to snatch the menu out of her hand, his earlier anger gone.

She clasped it harder, shaking her head. Glad to be on familiar ground once more. “Let go.”

“Nope, you had pasta already.”

“What are you, the pasta police?” She tried to read the menu while grabbling for dominance. He might have gotten his way earlier, but she wasn’t one to give up.

“Yes, I am, and you didn’t work out today. No workout, no dessert.” He flashed a mischievous smile and twisted his wrist to gain the upper hand.

Their tug of war brought her closer to him, the subtle scent of cotton and soap teasing her nose. Her stomach fluttered, the emotional turmoil she’d gone through settling on one constant. Leo. “I ran five miles this morning, and I had a bit of a workout at the studio. At least my heartrate was up.”

He licked his lips and she ached to explore them again. Madness and stupid, especially when Howler and Tucker could return at any time. “The five miles was negated by the pasta. You need at least thirty minutes of cardio to cover even a bite of dessert,” he said.

The idea of spending a half an hour in bed having sex with Leo sent liquid heat between her legs. She released the menu and rested her elbows on the table. Holding his heated gaze, she debated her next move. She was playing with fire and damn, she wanted to get burned. But if her history were any indication, the affair would fizzle out. He’d move on and she’d be on her own again. “About what happened... It was nice, but—“

“But we have to work together.” Leo cleared his throat and tossed the menu onto the table. Acquiescence lit his eyes. “Let’s move forward.”

“Yes, forward.” That way she could safeguard her heart. She wanted to continue the flirtation with Leo, but it was a bad idea. If they discussed how they were going to play this out in more detail, she wasn’t sure if she’d like the answer. She needed to focus on two things: the Bellevue Invitational and Miller. Until she could climb those two mountains, the rest of her life would be on hold.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Leo stepped aside and let Sorcha walk ahead of him into the gym at Howler’s house. He tried not to stare at her rounded ass in a pair of shorts, her hair in a ponytail. The sweet scent of her perfume didn’t help his resolve.

“The gym? Really Leo? Not running backwards up a trail, ankle-deep in mud or biking to the top of a mountain?” she asked, glancing at him over her shoulder, a light of flirtation in her deep blue eyes.

“Running backwards up a trail? Great idea, but no. Not today.” Exercising inside had never been his favorite. He preferred fresh air and the sweet smell of the Douglas firs. “We don’t have time. We have interviews after our workout for your assistant and for your new bodyguard.”

Racks of weights lined one wall; the other three walls had floor-to-ceiling mirrors. Several treadmills and elliptical machines were at the far end. “That’s our machine”

“Oh boy, I can hardly wait.” She climbed onto the treadmill that he indicated and scowled.

“It will be such a chore to have people help you. The horror.” He climbed onto the machine next to hers. Determined to keep things professional, he pulled out his phone. She might want to forget yesterday, but his dick couldn’t. That’s why he’d vowed to stay away from a casual fuck. Had he not been forced into close proximity with her for the next week, it wouldn’t be so bad. But he was and there was no getting around it. “Are you ready?”

She gripped the handrail and nodded. He clicked on the app and her machine started in the warmup phase. The muscles of her thighs contracted under the black shorts, the same way they had the day before when he’d been cradled in her damp heat. He tore his gaze away and caught another view of her in the mirror, this one more tantalizing than the last. Maybe working out in a gym full of mirrors wasn’t such a great idea.

“It’s not that I dislike the help, I dislike losing my privacy.” Her breasts bounced under the white razor-back sports bra, her sleek stomach exposed. Was she wearing lace again, or something more practical like cotton?

Head out of the gutter. “I can relate to your concerns, but you have to relate to mine. You have a stalker who’s not afraid to confront you. You’ve been isolated at Grams. After being on Grace’s show yesterday, people know you’re in town and it’ll get worse if you win the Invitational.”

“When I win, Leo.” She dropped her hands to her side. Freckles dotted her skin, along with a flush from the exercise. The same color had marked her skin in the green room.

“Sorry. When you win. If I didn’t think you could win, the agency wouldn’t have signed you.” He tapped his thumb against the handrail and watched the minutes tick by. After the news he’d learned this morning, he needed the stress release as much as she needed the exercise.

“For three months.” She started to jog, the soft pounding of her sneakers sounding on the rubber belt. “If I get eliminated early in the tournament, then I’d have a month left to prove my worth, whatever that means.”

“It means that you need to stay on track and keep doing what you’re doing.” So far, she was moving in the right direction. He couldn’t let up for fear she’d fall back to where she started. She’d been working hard but she’d yet to prove she could sustain the momentum.

“And if I don’t win? What then?”

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