She didn’t hesitate. “Get fired. Probably within hours.”
After a final pat of his arm, she departed the clubhouse, and the lock clicked into place with a jingle of her keys.
“I think your amorous exploits have traumatized your coworkers.” Tess sent him a chiding look. “No wonder her hair is completely grey. Mine probably will be too before I leave the island.” She tugged the bottom of a pigtail, eyeing it carefully. “I think I have more greys already. I blame our encounter earlier today.”
He’d noticed a few sparkly threads glinting in her hair that morning. Noticed and marveled at how unexpectedly pretty they were.
“That wouldn’t be such a terrible thing. I like the little bits of silver you have. They look like…” What was the best way to describe it? “Against your dark hair, they’re like stars in the night sky.”
He nodded, pleased with himself.
She didn’t appear impressed. “Bullshit.”
“Believe me or don’t. I’m fine either way.” He shrugged away an unexpected twinge in his chest. “But for what it’s worth, I’m telling the truth.”
“Maybe.” She’d bitten her lower lip again. It was red, and he could see the mark of her teeth. “But you can only romanticize my grey hairs because you’re in no danger of getting some anytime soon.”
Whatever. This was way too much effort expended on something that wasn’t going anywhere. Not even to bed.
Turning back to the rackets, he scanned the offerings. “Let me take a look at your hands. We need to figure out the best grip size.”
He’d expected her to hold them up in the air, so he could evaluate their length. Instead, she placed her right hand on top of his, where it was braced against the wall.
Was this an unspoken apology for her momentary snappishness? Or…something else?
Her mind, her motivations, were too complicated for the likes of him. He was lost.
In contrast, the feel of her was simple. Her palms were yielding and cushiony, her fingers uncallused against the backs of his. Warm. So warm.
“See? They’re big. Not as big as yours”—she cast him a dampening look—“and no, I don’t want to hear what you’re about to say in response to that. But my hands are large for a woman, probably because I’m so tall.”
She was tall compared to the average woman. Using American units of measurement, maybe a couple inches short of six feet. But compared to female tennis pros like Venus Williams or Petra Kvitová, her height wasn’t particularly notable. And he’d grown up in the land of Valkyries and Vikings, so tall women were hardly a novelty for him.
He turned over his hand beneath hers so they could compare lengths palm-to-palm.
It felt electric, like every brush of skin they’d had to this point.
“I’m six-six. At least eight inches taller than you.” When she was looking straight ahead, he could stare down at the part in her hair. To make eye contact, she had to tip that pugnacious chin high, like she was doing now. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re a munchkin.”
Then he slid his hand from beneath hers and walked a few steps away.
Even if she’d initiated contact once again, even if she hadn’t pulled away from his touch, he needed to heed her spoken wishes. She didn’t want him. He, in turn, didn’t want their undeniable physical chemistry to confuse him or encourage him to intrude where he wasn’t welcome.
And the skin at his nape was beginning to prickle, like it did when a game, a set, a match was starting to slip through his fingers.
He didn’t understand it, but he didn’t need to.
It was uncomfortable, and he didn’t do uncomfortable anymore.
“Come on,” he told her. “Let’s choose a racket, grab a few balls, and get going.”
Four
By the time they’d locked the clubhouse door behind them and reached the nearby courts, Lucas had regained his customary equanimity.
He’d flirt. Maybe she’d flirt back and touch him again. Maybe she wouldn’t.
Then they’d part ways at the end of the lesson, no harm done, and he’d need to make his usual decision: Did he intend to spend the night alone? Or with company?
He could retreat to his apartment and search for something vaguely interesting on Netflix. He could call his friend Nick, who should be on a rare break between tournaments right now. He could find some of the other resort employees and ask whether they wanted to catch the ferry to the mainland for a late dinner or a drink. Or he could rifle through the room and cell numbers he’d been offered that week and opt for some undemanding female companionship.
Either way, he could relax and enjoy himself. Just like he did every day.
Just as he intended to do for the rest of this lesson.
Tess walked beside him, clutching her borrowed racket and a can of balls. “When I asked you why you came to the island, why didn’t you tell me you worked here?”
Tess, he’d found, didn’t do undemanding. Yet another reason to keep her at a distance, no matter how unexpectedly interesting and charming he found her.
“I didn’t think it was important.” If he’d also wanted to hedge his bets, to ensure knowledge of his job didn’t nudge her memory banks and make her recognize him, that wasn’t important either. “Besides, I told you the main reasons I came here. Sun. Water. Sand. Relaxation. Everything I need.”
“You forgot women.” Her voice was as dry as the sand he’d just mentioned.
He grinned at her. “I never forget women. Female companionship falls under the category of relaxation. And occasionally sun, sand, or water, depending on her level of adventurousness.”
She raised that single, devastating brow. “It’s a miracle you haven’t been arrested.”
“As long as the parties involved are willing, located on the adults-only side of the beach, and not visible to other guests, security tends to turn a blind eye to al fresco shenanigans.” Keeping his racket under his arm, he dumped his bag of water bottles and towels by the end of the court. “So there’s no real danger of arrest. It’s all pretty routine.”
Her brow rose higher. “Routine? How thrilling your assignations must be.”
“I don’t need police intervention to make things exciting.” He shook his head at her. “Trust me on that. And speaking of exciting—”
“Oh, Lord.” She flicked her gaze heavenward. “Here we go.”
“What?” He held up his hands, widening his eyes to approximate innocent confusion. “I was just going to offer to help you with your serve.”
“And that’s exciting…how, exactly?”
“Because a good serve can win you a lot of free points or set you up for success later in a rally.” He gestured toward her empty hand. “Shouldn’t you be taking notes or something?”
The corners of her mouth had tucked inward as she fought a smile. “So that’s why you consider teaching me to serve exciting. Because of the possibility of winning free points. Not because doing so might involve physical contact?”
Well, he couldn’t say he hadn’t been looking forward to that aspect of the job.