Page 31 of Match Point

“It’s clearer here.” She was close enough that the heat of her arm invaded his long-sleeved shirt. Her arms were sleek, the muscles visible but not overly so. He’d read in a few articles that she didn’t like her arms; thought they were too big. He liked her strength and what she could do with it if he could only rein it in.

“When was the last time you had your eyes checked?”

She stiffened, her profile to him. “I don’t need glasses.”

“Tucker, is the screen blurry?” Leo asked.

“No, not to me,” the man said.

“I’ll add an ophthalmologist appointment to your schedule. I see bifocals in your future.”

“Stop trying to find things wrong with me. There’s nothing wrong with my vision.” She made to punch him in the arm when he grabbed her fist, pulling her against him.

She released a throaty laugh, shaking her head. Her earlier animosity had disappeared, and he liked this side of her. Perhaps too much.

She pulled her fist back, trying to remove it from his grip. He had a hard time maintaining his hold. She was strong and determined.

“I think we need to arm wrestle,” she said.

“Don’t do it,” Tucker warned.

“Shut up, Tucker, nobody asked you.” She turned the full bore of her blue-eyed stare at Leo, eyebrow raised. “What do you have to lose?”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re trying to trap me?” Leo asked.

“Because she is,” Tucker said.

Leo studied her for a long moment, trying to stare her down, but she raised her chin a notch. Stubborn to a fault. He could relate. “Give me a good reason to agree to this. What’s at stake?”

“If you win, I’ll do extra lunges. If I win, you play tennis with me.”

If I win, we finish what we started before the hail interrupted us.

She licked her lips and he had a fleeting notion that she’d read his thoughts. Nonsense. “Let me get this straight. If I win, you get to pummel me with balls and humiliate me. If I win, you do lunges. Doesn’t seem fair.”

“You’ve told me time and time again; you don’t believe in fair. Sometimes words have a way of biting you in the ass. In your case, jackass.”

“Do you hear the abuse she throws at me?” Leo said to Tucker. “I go out of my way to be the nicest person possible and she has no respect.”

“Nice? Ha! And don’t try to get Tucker on your side. Either you’re too chicken to arm wrestle me or you aren’t.”

“Why should I agree to this when you still haven’t gotten your hand free?”

She twisted her wrist, her knuckles sliding from his grip. “Like this?”

“Told you,” Tucker said.

“Hey, hold up. That wasn’t a proper arm-wrestling contest.” Leo stood and put his computer aside. The media room had a table and chairs where the kids colored. He pulled back a chair and indicated Sorcha take the seat. She slid onto the plastic; the back of her neck exposed under her upswept hair.

It would be easy to lean down and brush his lips across the smooth flesh. Would her skin be a soft as it looked, silky and warm beneath his mouth?

“You two have fun. I’m heading to bed.” Tucker wheeled his chair out, shaking his head when Leo settled his elbow on the table. “Don’t hurt the talent. I need her in good shape for tomorrow’s workout.”

“Good night,” Sorcha called out, her expression softening before she turned back to Leo, jaw set. “Let’s do this.”

“You sure seem cocky,” he said, settling his palm in hers. She wrapped her fingers around his hand.

“I’m confident. Are you scared?” she asked, lips tilting.

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