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I craned my head to watch the video and my eyes widened on their own, as if better to take in the image of Sikai Solomon. To drink him up as fast as humanly possible.
So much for not being easily dazzled.
Holy hell, the man was gorgeous. Tall, bronzed, brown skin, longish dark hair that he whipped out of his dark eyes between serves. I didn’t know the first thing about tennis, but as I watched a montage of different matches on different surfaces, at different tournaments, I could see Kai was born for it.
The muscles in his long legs were cut and defined, propelling him with unbelievable speed as he chased the yellow blurs that sailed at him. His arms were masculine perfection as he wielded his racket with both elegance and brutality, slamming shots home so fast the opponent hadn’t a chance at touching them.
And his face…Dear God, it was almost unfair how beautiful he was. Strong jaw, high cheekbones, piercing brown eyes, and a broad mouth that sneered with determination as he raced for a ball or broke into a rare smile that was damn near breathtaking.
I swallowed hard and watched a short montage of Kai returning shots with the racket between his knees.
“’Tweeners,” Jason said. “His signature move.”
Kai signed autographs for kids and let them mess with his hair. He hit no-look shots that made the crowd roar. He jokingly offered his racket to an audience member who’d heckled him asking, “Want to give it a go, mate?”
God, an Australian accent too? No fair…
“What the problem?” I asked. “He looks like he’s having the time of his life. Though from what little I’ve seen of tennis, I can’t remember Serena Williams ever hitting a ‘tweener.”
“No,” Jason said. “She wouldn’t. Most professionals take the game seriously. Kai does not. But that’s not the worst of it. This is the worst of it.”
The video showed a series of clips of Kai behaving badly. His incredibly handsome face shut down in anger. He smashed his racket. Flipped off the audience. Swore loud enough for the cameras to pick it up. He stopped slamming serves, stopped playing; his impossible speed reduced to walking leisurely after his opponents’ shots. One match
devolved into a relentless tirade at a judge for a time violation Kai didn’t feel was warranted until the ump ejected him from the match.
“Wow,” I murmured.
“Indeed,” Jason said with a sigh as the video ended. He pocketed his phone. “My client was fined $67,000 last year alone for his antics. Add another whopping $24,000 just last week for tanking the Brisbane International. The ATP has had enough. Kai’s now on probation. One more act of bad behavior and he’ll be banned from tennis for life. Naturally, we have the Australian Open in a few weeks.”
“And that’s a big one?”
“Like Wimbledon. One of the four Grand Slam tournaments.” Jason’s eyes were full of fatherly concern. “Did I mention he’ll be banned for life? His entire career is in jeopardy.”
“But I’m not sure what I can do for you, Mr. Lemieux.”
“Call me Jason.” He looked at me intently. “I need your help. I needed Ms. Pomerantz’ help, but she’s not here. You are.”
“I’m just a receptionist. I don’t see—”
“Kai needs your help and there’s no time to dither. I’ll be blunt with you, Miss Watson. The drama you just witnessed began after Kai’s father died. When he was sixteen.”
“Oh no,” I said and rubbed my hand over my heart. “I’m so sorry.”
“He took it hard, of course,” Jason said, “though he won’t talk about it. Ever. It was his father who instilled the love of tennis in Kai, and it was his death that soured him on it. I need help to get him back on track, mentally.”
“What can I do?”
“We’re renting a huge place on the west side,” he said. “In Lahaina. Lovely place. Lots of greenery. Pool, guest house, tennis courts. The idea is to rest and relax as much as possible until the Australian Open in two weeks. I want you to come every day and work with Kai.”
“You think he’s going to calm down with some meditation and yoga? In two weeks?”
“And Reiki,” Jason added. “I don’t even know how that works precisely, but I’m out of ideas.”
“Does he know what Reiki is?”
“It’s rehab for his elbow. That’s all he needs to know about it.” Jason shook his head. “I know this sounds crazy, but Kai won’t see a therapist. Won’t talk to anyone. This—you—are my last shot at saving his career.”
I blew a long, silvery-blonde curl off my forehead. “I don’t know. It’s an hour drive from here to Lahaina, and I only have a bicycle.”
