Chapter 7
PENNY LEANED OVER, HANDS ON HER KNEES, GASPING FOR breath, and glanced over at the sideline of the court where Dom was observing.
She was dying and she and Alex had only been training a little over an hour.
They were playing a mock match and were supposed to be working on each other’s weaknesses.
Alex’s was his tendency to go for a winner too early in a point, and hers was reverting to a defensive game while dealing with the clay surface instead of staying aggressive.
Instead, all they’d managed to do was exhaust each other.
Playing tennis against Alex Russell was almost exactly like having sex with him.
No awkward fumbling of a first time or a short, unsatisfactory encounter, but the mind-blowing kind of sex most people dreamed of and very few actually had.
It was intense and a constant struggle, a push and pull, every point a battle of wills, taking all of her physical and emotional strength and leaving her body suspended in a constant state of pleasure bordering the edge of pain—a really good pain.
Alex wasn’t faring much better than she was.
On the other side of the court, he was hunched over, each breath coming heavy and hard as he stared at her.
His gaze was beyond unnerving. Not creepy, but not totally pleasant either.
It was like he was looking deep inside of her into places she’d never let anyone see—not Jack, not Dom, or even Teddy.
Penny kept her eyes locked on his. Then he sent her a cheeky wink and quickly pursed his lips in a phantom kiss before looking away.
“What the fuck is going on with you two?” Dom marched onto the court from the sideline, confident that they’d sucked in enough oxygen to catch their breath and were ready to take a total tongue-lashing.
His face was shifting from lightly tanned to bright red, and the vein in his forehead was beginning to protrude. “P, why the hell are you letting him dictate the pace? Stop hesitating and hit the fucking ball.”
She tried to respond, but Dom was on a roll.
“And Alex, what is wrong with you? The way she’s playing, you should be thrashing her.
What happened to the Alex Russell who would step on the neck of a player he had down?
Just finish the point when she leaves you an opening!
If either of you thinks this shit is going to fly in France, you’ve got another thing coming.
We’re going to have media crawling all over this place in the next few days for the Classic.
You don’t think they’re going to sneak a look at your training sessions while they’re here?
Take a tour, clear your heads, and come back ready to play. ”
Penny’s legs were already carrying her to the gate, an instinctive response to orders issued by the man who’d had total authority over her training regimen for years.
A tour, as Dom put it, was a run around the entire campus through the maze of courts and then around the perimeter.
She rolled her neck and broke into a jog, getting halfway down the pathway lining the practice courts before she heard Alex’s long strides in a flat-out sprint as he tried to catch up with her.
For half a second, she considered picking up her own pace and trying to lose him, but Dom would probably be pissed at her and make her do another tour.
Their strides matched, the rubber soles of their sneakers pounding the concrete in unison.
She was perfectly happy to lead him around the complex in silence, and for a little while, it seemed he was, too, but as they rounded the corner at the outer edge of the practice courts, he broke it: “How much farther?”
“Winded already?” she said, keeping her eyes trained ahead.
“Hardly, just making conversation.”
“Well don’t. I have nothing to say to you.”
Alex chuckled, his stride breaking a bit. “I don’t know, I think we have a lot to say to each other. Last time we were really alone together we didn’t exactly exchange a lot of words, though if I recall, my name was a favorite of yours.”
Her nostrils flared as she tried to tamp down her reaction. They’d been operating under an unspoken agreement for the last two days not to talk about that night. Why the hell was he bringing it up now? “Just shut up and run.”
“Hit a nerve, did I?”
She didn’t answer but instead glanced up and sideways, taking in his profile, the strong jawline, a glittering blue eye, a nose slightly crooked, probably broken in a bar fight or something equally reckless.
“I wonder what Dom would think.”
That stopped her, both her mind and her feet. It was a few seconds before he stopped as well and jogged back to her. She wanted to scream, to blast him and let him know that that night was the biggest mistake she’d ever made. But as he towered over her, his eyes softer than before, she couldn’t.
“Please don’t say anything,” she said, avoiding his gaze.
He lifted a hand and ran it through his hair. “He doesn’t know?”
“No, I told him nothing happened.”
Alex pursed his lips and a muscle in his jaw clenched. “And of course he believed you. No wonder he offered me a spot here. If he knew I’d fucked his star player—”
“Nice,” she said with a snort, stepping around him and breaking into a measured run.
Again, he caught up with her in a matter of seconds. “Don’t take offense. Despite what they say, I’m rather choosy, as I’m sure you are. And you can’t deny we were fantastic together.”
“You were fine,” she said, a smile quirking up at the corner of her mouth. “I was fantastic.”
Alex raised his eyebrows but didn’t take her bait. Instead, his eyes sparkled at her and for a moment she almost forgot she hated when he did that. “You were at that.”
They fell back into silence, though a much more comfortable one than before as they approached the last and most difficult part of the tour, running on the sand.
They were halfway across the beach when his pace started to slow.
Penny glanced down out of the corner of her eye and saw his gait was a little labored, favoring his left leg.
She stopped and looked up at him, the sunlight shining behind his head, making her squint.
“Is your knee okay for this?” The sand was soft now that the tide had rolled back out, much looser than their clay practice court or the low-impact rubberized paths they’d run on.
The unstable surface could be hell on a recovering joint, especially after all the work they put in.
“Concerned? I’m touched.”
“Purely selfish. I’ll never be able to find another hitting partner this close to the French.”
“Right, of course,” he muttered. “I told you, the knee is fine. Or do you need me to kick your ass on the court again to prove it?”
They ran together, his strides as smooth as her own. The practice courts came into view as they passed the last of the vacation homes beside the OBX property.
Penny let out a tiny groan and then muttered, “Time to face the music.” She was not looking forward to whatever lecture Dom was about to deliver post-run.
“Wait, hang on a tick,” Alex said, coming to a halt as she was about to tackle the long wooden stairway that led up from the beach.
“What? We’ve already taken too long.”
“C’mon, wait,” he said, touching her arm.
She froze at the way his hand immediately set her skin alight and looked up at him.
“I asked you not to touch me.”
“Right. Sorry,” he said, pulling away. He shifted his weight back and forth, looking at her but not quite meeting her eye. “I won’t say anything to Dom.”
She stood, stunned, not really sure what to say, so she settled for “Thanks.”
His eyes sparkled at her again. What kind of cruel God would give a man like him the ability to look at her like she was the only woman in the world?
“Purely selfish,” he said, throwing her words back at her and breaking the moment. “Don’t want him to kick me out.”
Penny rolled her eyes and snorted out a breath. “Come on. Let’s go.”
They took the stairs together and then, through unspoken agreement, sprinted the last twenty meters or so to their practice court. Dom was waiting for them, leaning up against the exterior fence. “You two ready to get back to work?”
“Let’s do this,” she said, heading out onto the court.
“What she said,” Alex added.
“Excellent.” Dom followed them through the gate and took a seat at center court. “Penny, you serve.”
“Defensive game, right?” she asked, picking up her racket and taking a quick swig of water.
“Forget what I said earlier, both of you,” Dom said. “You’re thinking too much. Just play.”
Penny furrowed her brow, but then shrugged.
Dom was her coach—if he asked her to stand on her head, she would.
Alex, on the opposite side of the court, lunged from side to side, and for a split second, she thought his face scrunched into a wince, but a moment later, it was gone. He twirled his racket in his hands and then nodded. He was ready.
She served out wide, hoping to catch him expecting her usual first serve down the center of the court, but his body reacted instinctively, striding left and returning the ball back to her as she raced up to the net and put away his return with a short volley.
“Good job, P,” Dom called. “Much better. You didn’t force anything, even when he got that serve back. Good. Alex, let me see one from you.”
Alex kicked at one of the balls at the back of the court, lifting it with his toe and popping it up into the air before catching it on his racket.
Penny sent him a disapproving glare, but set herself. He stretched his neck back and around before settling his feet, bouncing the ball on the clay. A quick inhale and he sprung into the serve, straight up the middle of the court.
She stuck out her racket and managed a return, taking a crossover step to the center of the court as he chased it down.
They kept the rally going, neither of them backing down, not giving the other even the slightest opening.
Penny hit a slice backhand over the net, hoping to catch him off-balance, but instead, he ran around it and fired a forehand down the line, well out of her reach, for a winner.
“Damn good job, Al!” Dom yelled from the sideline. “Perfect shot selection and you waited for the right moment to strike. Okay, that’s it. I’ll see you two in the gym this afternoon.”
Dom left the court with a spring in his step.
Alex leaned against the net. His hair, damp and darker with sweat, was longer than it’d been in Australia.
Penny flexed her hand and then clenched a fist, digging her nails into her palm while trying to quash the urge to run her fingers through it and maybe give it a not-so-gentle tug.
If she remembered correctly, he liked that.
He smiled at her and asked, “You want to grab lunch?”
Penny smiled back and said, “No” before walking straight off the court, not having to look back to relish the shock on his face.
She imagined he didn’t hear that word very often.
Instead of heading for the locker room, she made a sharp left as she entered the atrium and made straight for one of the smaller video rooms. Penny turned on the television and quickly found the stream airing the matches from Rome.
The tournament was in full swing and Zina Lutrova was making mincemeat out of her opponents, looking a hell of a lot better than she had in Madrid.
The world number one was up a set and two breaks on her opponent, Giselle Beauchamp of France, the eighth-ranked player in the world.
Lutrova’s famous high-pitched shriek echoed through the speakers as she powered a forehand past a lunging Beauchamp.
Penny shook her head. Even on clay, Lutrova’s forehand was super strong.
It was why she could almost forgive Dom for bringing in Alex.
He was the perfect practice partner if she wanted to take out the Russian on clay.
Obviously, his shots were more powerful, but he was even more accurate than the women’s number one player, forcing her level of play higher with every rally.
If she could get her head together, she would be fine. Easier said than done, though.
Her thoughts were cut short when the scent of melted cheese and pepperoni wafted into the room. Her mouth watered. She craned her neck backward and saw Jack standing in the doorway, a pizza box balanced against his hip.
“I hate you,” she muttered, turning back to the screen. “Did you bring that in here to torture me?” It was one of the last things she grasped about being a great player: You could train as hard as you liked, but if you filled your body with crap, it all pretty much went to hell.
“No you don’t. You love me,” Jack said, plopping down next to her and holding the pizza box in his lap. The smile plastered across his face bordered on clownishly big, his dimple popping out and his eyes nearly closed.
“Why’s that?” she asked, keeping her eyes trained on the TV, where Lutrova had three match points.
“Why don’t you check the pizza and you’ll find out,” he said, shoving the box into her hands.
“Fine, but it’s not like I can actually eat any…” Her voice trailed off as she took in the pie, pepperoni across the center spelling out the word NIKE. She looked up at Jack then down to the pizza and then to Jack again. “Are you serious?”
“Got the phone call a half hour ago. They’ve upped their offer and totally blew away everyone else’s.
It’s exactly what we’ve been hoping for.
They want you to be the new face of their tennis line.
They’re calling you America’s Sweetheart, and if you fulfill even a few of the incentives in this contract, it’ll be worth close to fifty million dollars. ”
It took a moment for Jack’s words to sink in. Nike wanted her and they were willing to invest a huge amount of money to get her. Suddenly Alex Russell and his twinkling eyes and Zina Lutrova and her powerful groundstrokes didn’t matter.
“This is… I can’t…” She trailed off, tears starting to burn at the corners of her eyes.
This deal wasn’t only about her; it was about her family, too.
If she was careful and invested wisely, that kind of money would ensure her children’s grandchildren would never have a financial worry a day of their lives, her parents could retire comfortably, and Teddy could have whatever kind of car he wanted. “Thank you, Jack. Thank you so much!”
“Don’t thank me. This is all you,” he said, picking out a piece of pepperoni from the pie and smirking at her as he chewed.
“Oh, shut up,” Penny said, grabbing him into a huge bear hug, the pizza forgotten as it slid off her lap and onto the floor.