Walking the Line (10 page)

He wore a scowl along with dark denim, a blue
sports jacket and a tight white T that even at this distance
outlined a muscular chest. Brown hair. Chiseled jaw. Sexy mouth.
Eye-catchingly gorgeous, if he ever stopped glowering.

“You found him?” Dani said, when she noticed
I resisted further twirling.

“Yeah.” I jerked my head toward the corner.
“Him.”

“Fuck,” Dani murmured, staring at me with
newfound admiration. “I like the way you think, babe. He’s got sex
god written all over him.”

“And soon I’ll be all over him,” I said,
injecting enough fake bravado to sound believable while thinking ‘I
wish’.

Because a small part of me did wish I had the
guts to go after a guy like that. A guy who looked bad enough to
help me break free of being good.

Maybe I should amend my plan from getting him
to pretend to hang out with me to flirting relentlessly so we hung
out for real?

How long since I’d had fun with a guy beyond
study dates and coffee in the college cafeteria? My grades were
good. My life was good. I was
good
. For once, I’d love to be
bad.

“Go.” Dani shoved me in the guy’s direction.
“Report back in the morning.”

I wiggled my fingers in a saucy wave at Dani
as I strode toward the guy, who’d just downed a soda in record
time.

By the time I was half way across the crowded
room, I saw him duck out onto the terrace, which wouldn’t be opened
until later in the evening.

So I did the only thing I could.

Took a short cut to the terrace and crossed
my fingers I could pull this off.

Chapter 2

KYE

The second I stepped into the function room
at the Cresswell Tennis Academy, I couldn’t breathe. A stifling
combination of designer perfume, overcooked shrimp and jock
testosterone hung in the air like a miasmic cloud. The kind of
scene I despised.

I wanted to leave. Ditch this pansy-arse
party and the pretentious stuffy tennis establishment, leave Santa
Monica and head back to Sydney.

But I couldn’t. That’s the thing about final
chances. Screw this up and I was in deep shit.

“Would you like a drink, Sir?”

Sir? Seriously? Even the staff in this joint
acted like they had a pole stuck ten-feet up their arse.

I stared at the waiter, who looked roughly
twenty-two like me, and automatically reached for a beer. A coldie
would take the edge off.

A coldie would also make me crave another,
then another, to help me forget every godforsaken reason I was
stuck in this hellhole for the foreseeable future.

In the first wise decision I’d made in
months, I chose a soft drink instead. I downed it in three gulps
and set the glass on a nearby table. I should mingle. I should do a
lot of things according to my dad: lose the temper and the
attitude, don’t waste my talent and don’t screw up.

Guess I should be grateful he hadn’t disowned
me after I’d busted that dweeb’s nose back in Sydney. But even
though we’d only known about each other for the last seven years,
Dad stuck by me. He understood why I slugged the prick. No one got
to call my mum a hooker, among other things, and get away with
it.

“Drink, Sir—”

“No.” I didn’t want a frigging drink. I
wanted to get the hell out of here. “Thanks,” I said, softening my
tone when the waitress stared at me with genuine fear.

Looked like I was failing with the change of
attitude already. Not wasting my talent? Remained to be seen.

I could hit a ball around a court. Very well,
according to the top coaches in Australia. The thing was, they
didn’t understand why I played tennis. Ironic, that the very
attitude they wanted drummed out of me was what drove me to smash
the shit out of that furry green ball.

When I saw another waiter bearing down on me
with a sushi platter, I headed for the nearest exit. A locked
French door leading out onto a semi-dark terrace. Seclusion.
Perfect.

I flicked the lock and stepped out onto the
slate tiled terrace that overlooked the pristine grass courts. Ten
in total, with another ten clay and ten indoor surfaced behind the
clubhouse. I couldn’t fault the facilities here. The rest? Remained
to be seen.

I propped against the wall and stared at the
first court, the one I’d toured earlier with Dirk Cresswell, the
academy’s CEO. Dirk may be legendary in American tennis circles,
with his record Grand Slam wins and golden boy charm, but from the
fifteen minutes he’d taken to show me around today, he seemed like
a self-absorbed, pompous prick. Who I had to play nice with if I
didn’t want to be turfed out on my arse.

“Hey.”

I turned toward the girl’s voice as she
stepped out of the shadows, not sure what annoyed me most. The
intrusion or the way she sauntered toward me, all long legs and
cocky smile.

She was just my type: tall, sexy brunette
with enough hip sway to make a guy wonder what made her so
confident, and bedroom eyes that hinted at sin.

Sadly, this devil had just landed in the City
of Angels and sin was the last thing on my agenda.

“I’m not in the mood for company,” I said,
expecting her to head back inside.

She didn’t falter as she strode toward me.
“Too bad, because I needed some air and this terrace is big enough
for the both of us.”

I could’ve left but there was something in
the way she was staring at me that had me intrigued: like she
wanted me but wouldn’t have a clue what to do if she got me.

“Mia.” She stuck out her hand. “Pleased to
meet you.”

“Kye.” I reluctantly shook her hand. “Wish I
could say the same.”

“You don’t like girls?” She slid her hand out
of mine, the insolent quirk of her lips making me want to do
something I shouldn’t. Like kiss the smirk off her smart mouth.

“Love women.” I took a step back, staring at
her feet and slowly sweeping upward in a deliberate perusal meant
to make a point. I wanted to make her squirm. It backfired, as I
noted red nail polish matching her towering shoes, slim ankles,
long legs, tight black dress that ended mid-thigh and hugged her
lean bod, and pert tits. The frigging dress had a front zipper that
just begged to be undone. Beyond hot.

By the time I reached her face, she was
blushing.

“So which am I?” She leaned forward, giving
me a generous glimpse of cleavage. “Girl or woman?”

If I were in the mood to flirt, Mia would’ve
been perfect. I knew her type in a heartbeat. Good girl wanting to
dabble. Her country club folks were probably inside sipping
martinis and kissing arse. And Mia wanted to flirt with the jocks
for a night, without the pressure of having to put out. I’d love to
see how far I could push her, call her bluff. Instead, I had to
drive her away before I did something stupid.

I’d had these moods before. I was better off
alone.

“Honestly?”

She nodded, so I gave it to her straight.

“You’re a college girl on spring break
looking for a little down and dirty fun. Your folks probably drive
a SUV, have dinner at the country club every night and play
piss-poor tennis here weekly.”

I saw hurt flicker in her big, brown eyes.
Good. The faster she left, the better. So I drove the boot in
harder.

“You want to slum it for a while, have a
little holiday fun. String some poor dumb-arse tennis rookie along
before giving him a severe case of blue-balls.”

I deliberately turned my back on her. “Maybe
the Aussie accent fooled you into thinking I’m that dumb-arse? But
sorry, kid, you’re definitely a girl and I only fool around with
women.”

I hated myself for treating someone I’d only
just met like this. Mia whoever-she-was didn’t deserve it, but the
blackness was crowding in and I needed to escape.

Spying steps leading onto the lower level, I
headed in that direction.

“My mom died when I was little. My dad drives
a Mustang, drinks scotch and doesn’t have to kiss anyone’s
ass.”

I heard the hitch in her soft voice and it
slayed me more than her admissions.

“Sure, I play
piss-poor
tennis, if
that means I play badly. So I guess one out of four ain’t bad.” I
heard the snap of her fingers. “Oh, and you were right about one
thing. You’re definitely a dumbass.”

I should’ve kept walking. Headed straight for
those steps without looking back. But the fact I’d misjudged her so
badly stung real bad. Hadn’t I busted that dickhead’s nose in
Sydney because he’d misjudged my mum? And me?

I’d put up with being misjudged my entire
life: the poor kid from the Cross whose mum ran a strip joint. The
kid who was probably a pimp. The kid who must do drugs because of
where he lived.

I’d copped it all and hated every minute of
it.

So why the hell had I just done the same to a
woman I barely knew and who didn’t deserve to bear the brunt of my
foul mood?

I stopped and turned back to face her. “I’m
sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She waved away my apology. “You
can’t help being a dumbass. You were born that way.”

I smiled. For the first time in a long time.
“You’re probably right.”

“So what’s with the mood?” She tilted her
head to one side, studying me. “Because I know that wasn’t all
about me.”

I shook my head. “You don’t want to
know.”

“Maybe I do …” She hesitated, uncertainty
clouding her eyes, before she straightened her shoulders. “You were
right about one thing. I am in college. And I am on spring break.”
She puffed out a long breath. “This is my first night back home and
I had to attend this stupid party, when it’s the last thing I felt
like doing, so I guess that makes us kindred spirits in a way.”

“You don’t know the first thing about
me—”

“Chill.” She rolled her eyes. “All I meant
was you look like you don’t want to be here. I definitely don’t
want to be here.” She gestured at the tennis courts. “So why don’t
we ditch this lame-ass party and take a walk out there?”

She’d articulated my plan, with one flaw. I
still wanted to be alone.

“I don’t think so—”

“Shut up.” She slipped her hand into mine
before I could blink. “Let’s go.”

She tugged on my hand as I stared at our
linked hands in disbelief. I had two options. Yank my hand free,
make a big deal of this by stomping away and run the risk of her
running to her daddy, who was probably besties with Dirk Cresswell.
Or suck it up and leave like I’d intended. With a hanger-on.

“If we don’t make a run for it now, the rest
of the party will spill out here soon and then we’ll be
trapped.”

I frowned, nodded. “Fine.”

Though it wasn’t, because as I allowed Mia to
lead me down the steps, I wondered why I was still holding her
hand. And enjoying it.

Chapter 1

DANI

“Where’s Loverboy?”

Not that I really cared where Mia’s boyfriend
Kye was. I was enjoying having my BFF all to myself for a few hours
before I boarded a plane to Australia to start my new life.

“He’ll be here soon,” Mia said, shoving the
half-empty pizza box in my direction. “Said he had to see a man
about a dog.”

I helped myself to another slice of
pepperoni, even though I’d barely nibbled the first. “What the hell
does that mean?”

Mia shrugged. “Who knows? I just nod and
smile when he comes out with those indecipherable Aussie-isms.” Her
eyes lit up. “Besides, who cares when he’s that cute?”

“Fair enough,” I said, eternally grateful we
could actually talk like this considering I’d recently fucked up
majorly by coming onto Kye with the intention of deliberately
hurting Mia.

I’d been acting like the attention-seeking
idiot I was and thankfully, Mia and Kye had forgiven me.

I’d told Mia the truth. Well, most of it.

She knew about the baby, why I’d blown off
college and why I’d spent the last three years drifting through a
haze of partying to forget.

But she didn’t know all of it.

Nobody did.

And I intended on keeping it that way.

Sensing my sudden reticence, Mia pushed her
plate away and placed a hand on my arm. “You okay?”

I nodded, swallowing the unexpected lump of
emotion in my throat. I never got sentimental. Ever. I’d given up
being that vulnerable a long time ago. Because feelings led to pain
and I never wanted to feel as bad as I did when that bitch of a
nurse told me I’d ‘lost’ my baby.

Like I’d lose anything so precious.

“Guess the reality of leaving all this to
attend college in Melbourne for a while has finally hit home.” I
gestured at the lavish lounge in my parents’ Beverly Hills mansion.
“I mean, how will I live without the ten widescreens, daily fresh
sushi and thousand-thread count toilet paper?”

Mia laughed. “I hear they have two-thousand
thread count in Australia.” She winked. “How do you think Aussie
guys have such hot asses?”

I chuckled, relieved the urge to bawl had
receded.

“Talking about me?” Kye Sheldon strode into
the room. Tall, blue-eyed, broad-shouldered, he was seriously hot
and only had eyes for Mia as he made a beeline for his girlfriend
and laid a hot, open-mouthed kiss on her right in front of me.

“Get a room,” I muttered, actually enjoying
the sight of my best friend being cherished in the way she
deserved.

And Mia did deserve it. She’d always been
good and why she’d hung out with me for the last fifteen years was
beyond me. She was loyal, sweet and trusting. My voice of reason,
I’d always called her. Which is why I hadn’t told her about the
baby.

Because when it came down to it, when I’d
fallen pregnant at eighteen, I hadn’t wanted to hear all the
logical reasons why I shouldn’t keep the baby. For the first time
in my life, I would’ve had someone in my life to love me
unconditionally. Someone to depend on me. Someone whose world
revolved around me.