Lucas’s glance at his watch confirmed his colleague’s claim. His lesson with Tess had run way past its official end time. And fuck, she was eyeing the exit nearest the clubhouse, her expression guarded once more.
If he climbed over the net to her side of the court, would that reassure her? Or make her run? “Look, Brendan, can we—”
The other man was still talking. “—won’t do it again. But as long as I’m here, I might as well tell you. A bunch of us are heading to Emma’s place on the mainland to watch the game. I heard she made meatballs in the slow-cooker, so it’ll basically be like home for you, only with less furniture assembled via Allen wrenches.”
A faint snort from the other side of the net heartened Lucas.
He caught Brendan’s eye and nodded toward the clubhouse, his message clear:Get out. “Despite that heart-warming homage to my homeland, I can’t—”
This time, Tess interrupted him. “You should go. I need to get back to work, anyway.” She walked to his bag and laid her racket on top. “Besides, if you ask nicely, I bet they’d even play ‘Dancing Queen’ for you.”
He sighed. “Haha. ABBA jokes. Very creative.”
“Thank you. I accept that compliment with the same sincerity with which it was offered.” She shot him a half-hearted grin and walked toward the exit. “Have a good night, boys.”
Boys. Yeah. That was not a promising sign.
“Tess…” He trailed off, unsure whether having her confirm their date would instead give her an opening to cancel it. “You don’t have to go.”
“I really do,” she called over her shoulder.
It was a risk, but he needed to know. Needed that confirmation.
Just before she left the court, he spoke loudly enough to carry across the distance. “Half-past one, pigtails. The day after tomorrow. Don’t forget.”
Her brisk stride faltered, and he braced himself.
Then she began walking again, and her words floated through the shadows of the court. “Maybe I should. But I won’t.”
Five
Tess chosea discreet spot outside the chain-link fence surrounding the tennis courts, one partially shielded from the unforgiving island sun by swaying palm fronds. Close enough to watch and hear the tail end of Lucas’s pre-picnic lesson. Distant enough to evade his notice, especially given his preoccupation with his clients, a young couple in stylish tennis whites.
If she’d picked her spot wisely, she wouldn’t end up a victim of heat stroke before their date even began, and he’d never know she’d arrived thirty minutes early to spy on him.
Well, notspyon him.Observehim. Like she would one of her teachers.
Yes, that was what she was doing. Certainly there was no spying or—God forbid—ogling involved. Despite the sway of his very round, very firm ass when he bent over and prepared to return his clients’ serves, or the delicious bunching of his shoulder muscles beneath his thin, sweat-soaked t-shirt as he hit a two-handed backhand.
Nope. No ogling whatsoever.
Although, if oglinghadoccurred, it would have been well worth the effort.
In between periods of not-ogling, she watched him with the couple and discovered that his patient, well-informed guidance during her own lesson hadn’t been an aberration. The class had a logical, obvious structure, the clients knew what to expect, he paid close attention to both of them, and his advice was clear, practical, and stated with both knowledge and authority.
He was a good teacher, and she knew good teaching when she saw it.
He’d also left a dozen yellow tulips and a scrawled note wishing her a happy birthday at the front desk yesterday. Belle, delighted by the seeming success of her machinations, had literally squealed at the sight of the bouquet.
Tess had underestimated him.
Then again, he’d encouraged her to do so at their first meeting, and she still didn’t understand why. Why he hadn’t told her he worked at the resort and what he did there. Why he’d played the aimless flirt, when he was clearly more than that. Why, when he seemed interested in her, he’d chosen to hide so much of himself.
That lack of clarity—even apart from her other doubts, which were legion—had almost led her to call the clubhouse yesterday and leave him a message, canceling their lunch together. Even with those gorgeous, thoughtful tulips on her nightstand.
She’d picked up the phone in her room and dialed the relevant extension three or four times, but in the end, she’d always replaced the handset back on the cradle. And when Belle had left for a noontime rendezvous with Brian earlier that day, Tess hadn’t used her limited quiet, private time alone in their room to work. Instead, after waving goodbye to her friend, she’d spent way too long contemplating her limited wardrobe options and considering Lucas’s possible reactions to each before finally throwing on a simple, comfortable cotton maxi dress.
If that maxi dress showed an exuberant expanse of cleavage and its turquoise print suited her complexion, she’d told herself that was mere happenstance. But that had been a lie, and she’d known it even then.
