“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 timethey’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 doundemanding. 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.
