Not So Snow White (27 page)

"I wasn't talking about just now. And congratulations to your brother."

"Thanks, I'll be sure to pass that along."

"And I was referring to the fact that you haven't been around much the past few nights. Or any nights, for that matter."

She offered him a false smile. "Keeping track of my comings and goings, are we?"

"You for
get, being around my younger sibling is like living with
Access Hollywood
twenty-four-seven. She keeps track, and I hear about it whether I want to or not. By the way, she can't wait until she's older so she can hit the town like you do."

Tess didn't even blink. "You'll be lucky if she makes it to majority before that happens. She's young, beautiful, talented, and headstrong. What do you think she's going to want to do? I don't ha
ve anything to do with that, nor
anything to say to her about it, by the way. I can hardly tell her Just Say No, can I? I'm a lot of things, but a hypocrite isn't one of them. Besides, she's doing fabulously well here. I can't believe you're still whining and pouting about all this."

He looked affronted. "I'm not pouting."

She laughed. He was pouting, and he was pretty damn cute while doing it, too. "Oh yes you are. I'm out having fun every night, and you're stuck at home, scared to death that Gaby is going to be out having fun every night before too long, and you won't have anyone to sit at home and worry things to death with anymore."

"I have responsibilities, unlike someone else I know. I can't just go out gallivanting around."

"She's a teenager. Surely she can maintain for an evening while you gallivant a little."

"Ah, the two lovebirds."

Tess turned to find one of the producers standing behind her. "Hi, Alan."

"What brings you up to our humble digs this fine afternoon, Tess? Isn't your young charge about to play?"

"Rain delay pushed her match back." She shot him a cheeky grin. "I knew you had airtime to kill, so I thought I'd drop by and give your ratings a boost."

He laughed and glanced at Max. "Ah, she doesn't pull any punches, does she? A breath of fresh air in this business, I tell
you," He patted Tess on the shoulder, then scooted past them. "Sorry to leave you folks, but I have to get back there and see how much money they're draining from my budget. Come on back whenever you'd like
."

"Thanks, Alan.'' Once he'd gone on into the studio, she turned back to Max and got right to the point. Forewarned was forearmed. "So, exactly what did you say on air earlier? I'm assuming you got asked about the rumor du jour?"

"Which one? You're the source of so many."

"Ha ha. I was referring to the one that also included you. As in us."

"There is no us."

"Exactly my point. So I assume you said as much?"

She'd expected some sort of long-suffering sigh. She still had no idea why she enjoyed poking at him like she did. Probably because he so easily gave it right back to her. Most men were affected by her presence. Usually in a mouth-hanging-open, glazed-over-eyes kind of way that did nothing for her. He was the least affected guy she'd ever met. In fact, he was the antiaffected. So it was just her perverse nature, of course, needing to get a rise out of the one guy who really didn't care.

When he let his mouth curve very slowly into that
…
well, "wicked" was really the word that came to mind once again. And stuck there. She knew he had it in him, but still, it was just
…
wow.

You
have
no
idea who you're fooling with.

His words from that morning before Gaby's first round echoed through her mind. At the time, she'd dismissed him. Or tried to. But things had happened between then and now. There had been those looks, exchanged glances, supercharged moments that simply wouldn't leave her memory banks. Dismiss him now? Damn near impossible.

He stepped closer, planted a hand on the wall next to her
head. She was so stunned by his making the first move—any move—
she stayed rooted to the spot…
and for once in her life she was speechless.

He leaned in, until he was so close she could make out every intricate detail of his gorgeous brown irises. "No," he said, his voice deeper, a shade rough. "I told them we were having a passionate, torrid, intensely carnal affair. I told them a man would have to be crazy not to go after someone like Tess Hamilton if he had the chance. And
…
" He leaned a tiny bit closer and she found herself suddenly unable to swallow as her throat constricted. "I told them seeing as we're living under the same roof, and with ample motive and opportunity
…
well
…
" He lifted his other hand and slowly tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.

It was like every single nerve ending in her body had gone on full alert.

"I left the rest to their imagination." He leaned in until his lips were beside her ear.

At some point she'd simply stopped breathing altogether.

"How is your imagination, Tess?" he whispered. "Do you think about what they're saying? Do you ever imagine
…
us?"

Was he really saying all these things? Or was she actually asleep and this was all some sort of dream? A very hot, very explicit dream. And a damn sight better than the ones she had been having about him, that was for sure.

She couldn't find the words to respond
…
not that she had any idea what her response would have been. And any chance she might have had in reclaiming even a shred of the upper hand died instantly with his next words.

"I have." He pushed away from the wall, held her gaze for the longest moment, his dark eyes completely unreadable. Then, without another word, he stepped past her and through the door.

It clicked softly shut behind her. Only then did she allow herself to sag limply against the wall. She was known for making a great entrance, but Max had the market cornered on making a killer exit.

"Jesus. He should bottle that stuff." But even she wasn't buying her own attempt to brush off what had just happened. And what in the hell
had
just happened? Was he just messing with her? Giving as good as he got?

Or…

No. No, no, no. She was on a mission. He was a distraction. Hell, his sister was already a major distraction, She couldn't afford another one right now. Certainly not one that came with the international complications he would.

Alan popped around the corner just then. "Thought you'd snuck out on me. Come on, I have a spot for
you, if you're game.
"

She had to work a lot harder than she liked to admit to pull herself together.

"You okay?" he asked as she walked past him and through the studio door he held open. "You look a little flushed."

"Fine," she lied. "Just fine." She mustered one of her trademark wry grins. "I'll be even better when there's a camera on me. You know me, I'm always game."

The producer laughed. "I have little doubt."

She brushed a piece of lint off her shoulder and fluffed her hair a
little.
Nonchalant, Tess. As if your entire life wasn't riding on this.
And as if Max hadn't just turned upside down what little life she thought she had.

"You know, Alan," she said, slipping her arm through his, allowing him to open the door to the soundstage for her. And shoving Max as far from her thoughts as humanly possible. "We make a pretty dynamic team."

"I can't fault you there," he said, smiling jovially.

It was the smile that gave her the courage to go for the rest. "So, maybe you should think about offering me something more permanent than an occasional guest spot at the majors." She shot him a cocky wink. "I think we could be very good for each other."

C
h
a
pter
2
1

C
ourt One. Max settled into his seat and tried to calm down enough to just absorb the moment. Gaby was in the quarterfinals and playing on the stadium show court for the first time. It wasn't the famed Centre Court, but it was only one step away. And she was only one match away from playing there, as well, perhaps in front of members of the royal family. As so many tennis greats had before her.

Including the one currently sliding into the seat beside him.

"Isn't this fantastic?" Tess said, bubbling with energy and excitement as always. "I'm so proud of her."

"I thought you were supposed to wait until the match started."

She sent him a sardonic smile. "Gee, nice to see you, too."

"I just meant—"

"I know." She nudged him with her shoulder and leaned closer. "I snuck past the guards. Shh. Don't tell anyone."

Cameras were whirring, shutters were clicking, and all he
had to do was look over the rail down at the court to see that a number of them were aimed at the players' box he was seated in. "I think it's too late for that."

She shifted away from him, ignoring him as she looked out over the rapidly filling stands. She was fidgeting and tapping her toes. "God, it
feels so strange sitting up her
e and not down there." She laughed. "I swear I'm more nervous now, though."

It hit Max again, like it had several times when he least suspected it, what this must be like for her. He was so used to giving her a hard time, thinking onl
y of her impact on his sister…
and lately, on him, as well, that he didn't stop to think about what she was going through. What must it be like, forced to sit on the sidelines when the last time she'd been here, she'd been down there playing for the title? It couldn't be easy.

But you'd never know it to look at her. Perhaps because she always seemed to be so on top of everything, so confident and so full of life, it was difficult, bordering on impossible, to imagine her as anything but. The words "vulnerable" and "nervous" would never come to mind when thinking of her. Something he'd been doing a great deal more of, of late.

He glanced at her now. Her eyes were sparkling, her bright smile flashin
g…
and yet if anyone looked close
r, they'd notice the pinched corn
ers of her mouth, the tight lines at the corners of her eyes. And the way she played with the sunglasses she held in her hands, opening and closing them, over and over. She really was nervous.

"Are you worried she's not ready?" he asked her. So much for his plan not to engage her in any unnecessary conversation. He'd managed to avoid anything but the most mundane of business talk the past two mornings, usually over breakfast at Wexley, with Aurora and Gaby in attendance, reviewing the day's schedule. He hadn't been alone with her since their little episode outside the network soundstage the day before last.

He'd mercifully put both Aurora and Vivian between them during Gaby's match that afternoon. Cowardly? Maybe. He thought of it as self-preservation.

She provoked the hell out of him in ways that made him crazy. He was constantly doing things, saying things, he'd never typically do or say. He'd thought—hoped—to have all that in perspective before spending the afternoon seated next to her today. She was unpredictable, and he knew he provoked her, too. He had no idea what she'd say or do in one of the most public forums on the planet, considering the millions who were watching the event all around the globe. He had no doubt they'd spend some time on camera today, probably more so than usual, given the tennis royalty he was seated next to.

But it surprised him more than a little to realize that some of the butterflies in his stomach had nothing to do with that, or the fact that his sister was playing in the quarterfinals of her very first Wimbledon
…
and everything to do with the woman seated next to him. And, even more alarming, the anxiety associated with those butterflies wasn't all bad.

"She's as ready as she can be," Tess replied. "I just talked to her in the waiting area and she's nervous, but in a good way, She's edgy and antsy and wound up. She wants to get out there and start hitting the ball, get into the match. You can't ask for more than that."

"Is that how it was for you?"

She glanced at him, obviously surprised. "Is this a trick question?"

He knew he deserved that, just as he knew he should let the whole matter drop right now. But his stomach was flipping around and Gaby hadn't even taken the court yet to warm up. He desperately needed a distraction from what was, so far, the biggest day in his sister's life, and his own, for that matter. He
should be reflecting on the path they'd taken to get to this point, think about what this meant to them both.

He shouldn't be thinking about Tess, much less why she smelled so damn good.

"I'm asking because of Gaby,"
he said, perhaps a shade more tersely than necessary, Which didn't explain why he all but held his breath waiting for her reply. So he kept talking. Although it sounded suspiciously like babbling. He never babbled. "I'm excited for her and nervous as hell. You've been out there, done that. I was just wondering what it felt like for you."
Jesus
,
Max,
you're
such a moron. Calm the hell down.
"And, uh, if you think, based on your experience, that she's going to handle this okay."
Lame. So very, very lame.

Tess held his gaze for a second or two longer, apparently trying to figure out what his angle was this time, or more likely what medication he was on, before she finally said, "I think we'll see all facets of Gaby today. I wouldn't be surprised if we get everything she's got, highs, lows, good and bad. She knows she's lucky in some ways to have made it this fa
r
, with a few higher seeds getting taken out by other players. But she's also worked damn hard for her spot in the final eight. She deserves to be down there, no matter how she plays today. But I'm guessing her feeling was much like mine in her place." She shot him a cocky grin. "Which was, Well damn, I've made it this far, why the hell no
t just take the whole damn thin
g?"

Max couldn't take his eyes off of her.

She broke eye contact first, and looked out across the expansive green grass court below. "She's going to have a lot to juggle out there today. Nerves, stress, the magnitude of playing on a stadium court
in front of this many people…
not to mention Hilstrom's monster serve."

She glanced at him, but wasn't really seeing him. And he
knew when she looked back out over the court again, she was remembering her own triumphs out there. Which had been many. And maybe the rare defeat, as well.

"You know, when you let yourself really, really want, you're forced to open yourself up to everything inside you. You have to be willing to leave it all out there, too, no matter how messy." She looked at him again, only this time she held his gaze directly. "It's the only way to get what you want. At least it's the only way for me."

Max found himself caught up in a way he hadn't anticipated. "Yeah. I think I know what you mean."

Tess blinked, then laughed a little and shifted in her seat, looking out over the stadium once again, and the general hubbub as people continued streaming in. "I think it will be that way with Gaby, too," she added, but a beat too late.

Max was still looking at her. She was definitely nervous and antsy, but if he wasn't mistaken, he might be the cause of just a little of that edginess now. He wasn't sure how that made him feel, but then a roar went up and he was automatically surging to his feet with everyone else as the players made their way onto the court.

"Oh, dear! My goodness. Pardon me, pardon me." Aurora stumbled as she made her way down the row to the players' area.

Vivian reached out to steady her. "Darling, if you don't watch where you're going, we're both going to make a very unseemly entrance directly onto the court." She snapped open the oriental fan she carried, which Max noted on a small groan perfectly matched the red, gold, and black silk track suit she wore. Not to mention the chopsticks she'd used to hold her flame-red chignon into place.
Oh, the cameras were just going to love this.
Quite possibly the most co
lorful players' box in the one-
hundred-plus-year history of Wimbledon.

Again, as was happening far too often of late, he wondered precisely how his life had arrived at this exact moment. He'd pictured this day, imagined Gaby going for a grand-slam title on a big stage like this. He glanced sideways and sighed. He just hadn't imagined it would come wi
th such…
flamboyant company.

Vivian took her seat and flipped the fan in front of her face. "Although I dare say, darling, we do spruce up the place a bit. Far too much white for my taste. And mostly cotton, too. Haven't they heard of linen?" She sighed and arranged the folds of her gold-zippered jacket just so. "Honestly, these Brits have no idea how to liven things up."

"Well, I think you both look spectacular," Tess told her, then gave Aurora a hug. "I'm so glad you could make it."

"We wouldn't have missed it. So sorry Mercedes couldn't attend. She's not much for sitting out in the sun, you know," Aurora said.

"I offered her my umbrella." Vivian pulled out the matching horror from her bag, but mercifully left it furled. "She declined. Imagine."

Max sank back in his seat, thankful now he had Tess beside him. He'd use her as a blockade with absolutely no compunction whatsoever.

Aurora leaned past Tess to squeeze his knee, her rings biting into his skin. He'd have permanent scars before this was all said and done. "It's simply all too exciting, Max, dear, isn't it? I swear, I'm becoming addicted to their strawberries and cream here. Such a delightful tradition. You must be so proud."

Of the strawberries and cream?
"Certainly," he said, opting for a vague response over one of any substance. He found where conversing with any of the godmothers was concerned, the more vague the better.

Aurora squeezed again, and he swallowed the wince, and the
breath of r
elief when she released her hold. "I'm sure she'll do fabulously well. This is her tournament to win, Max. Mark my words."

He smiled at her and resisted rubbing his now throbbing knee. "We're just really thankful to have made it this far. We both owe you a debt of gratitude."

Aurora waved him away. "Oh, pish posh." She grinned and leaned close to Tess. "A bit of London slang I picked up. I so love their use of the language here."

Max smiled despite himself. He couldn't help it, really. She was just too much.

"Being able to come see Gaby play her matches has been all the reward I need," Aurora told him, then she leaned closer to Tess and whispered just loud enough that he heard her anyway. "We need to talk. After the match, okay?"

Tess nodded. "Sure, no problem, Bobby doesn't play until tomorrow, so I'll catch a ride back with you and Vivi."

Max forced his attention down on the courts. Gaby had already taken a freshly strung racket from her bag and walked to her end of the court, which was right below them, so her back was to them. Inge Hilstrom, the number-two seed here, and the heavy favorite today, arrived at the far end a moment later. They started to warm up, hitting balls back and forth, moving their feet, getting the blood flowing. He wished he could see Gaby's face, but she was moving well, hitting smoothly. There wasn't any sign of nerves, despite the fact that she was playing on Court One.

The winner of this match moved into the semifinals. And a place on Centre Court. One step away from the title round.
Go get
'em
,
Gaby,
he silently urged. He was thrilled she'd made it this far and just hoped she played well, win or lose. But the moment, the occasion, was getting to him.

And like Tess said, with only two matches to go for the
finals, why not hope a little?

The match started out a little rocky, with both players losing serve and making multiple unforced errors. Apparently, both Inge and Gaby were a little more nervous than they'd first appeared. But a half hour later, after some tense, long rallies, they'd tied it five games to five, and things began to settle down and get serious.

"Rally, dammit," Tess hissed under her breath. Her fingers were curled into fists, pressing into her knees, when she wasn't pounding on them in silent encouragement. "Don't go for the winner so damn early. You've got the stami
na. Make her
hit more balls. Let her make the mistake."

Max leaned forward as Gaby returned what appeared to be a clean winner to move up six games to five. Then came the call from the lines person. Wide. Point to Inge, which sent the game to its sixth deuce point. And Gaby past the boiling point.

She threw her hands up in the air and, after a glare of disgust at the offending lines person, turned to the chair where the umpire sat perched above the court. "It was on the line. Chalk flew. Check the mark," she demanded.

"It was wide, Miss Fontaine," the chair umpire calmly stated in his crisp British accent. "Please resume play."