that score; it was only a matter of time. Amanda wasnât his type, but she was so ⦠obliging. And sexy. She made a guy feel good, and right now Liam wanted to feel good.
âRough,â she confirmed. âYouâll serve, I take it?â
They had a warm-up first, then launched into the first game. It was a perfect playing day â not too hot and with no breeze to speak of. Liam served a couple of aces and took the game easily. He began to feel better still.
âWhatâs your favourite subject to teach?â Amanda asked him at the end change. Her perfume mingled with the scent of the grass. Decadent and delicious.
âPoetry.â And Liam couldnât help himself â off he went with the verbals again. An end change was supposed to be a break of three minutes max but there was so much to say â especially about contemporary poetry, which was his particular bag â that it was almost ten minutes before they restarted.
But, hell, Amanda didnât seem to mind. She nodded and smiled, head to one side, eyes fixed on his face. âSo driven,â she said. âSo dedicated.â Smoothly, she collected the balls and prepared to serve.
If Estelle had said that, Liam reflected, trying not to swagger as he moved into the receiving court and flexed his playing arm again, he would think she was taking the piss. She would have been taking the piss â¦
He flinched at the thought, but re-directed himself by watching Amandaâs graceful service action as she stood in her virginal whites, framed by the grass courts; in the background, the honey-coloured stone and glass of Chestnut Groveâs clubhouse. What a picture she presented. And, God, that woman could toss a ball.
Unfortunately, it caught the net tape and didnât drop over. She served the next one wide.
âBad luck!â Liam called, moving over to the other court. She hadnât got into her stride yet, that much was obvious. And where Estelle was cynical, Liam found himself thinking, Amanda Lake was clearly as sincere as they came. Bit of a surprise that, and it just showed that you couldnât make assumptions about people â even the rich kind.
They had a couple of good rallys, then Amanda hit a forehand wide, and before Liam had quite grasped the fact, heâd taken the game and was about to serve again. It was easier to serve when you were seven foot tall. Once again, he managed two aces (he was sure one of them was long but Amanda said not and like the good sport she was, declined to re-take the point) and there he was, leading three love. Wowee â he hadnât realised he was so good.
âItâs ages since we played together,â Amanda said archly at the next end change. âYouâve really improved.â The sun had come out and Liam was really warming up. Amanda slipped off the fleece. The tennis dress had narrow shoulder straps that crossed over at the back.
âDo you think so?â Liam tried not to look either too pleased or at her breasts. She was sweating ever so slightly â only on Amanda it was more of a delicate glow â and her nipples were clearly outlined under the white fabric. He glanced away. Over at the clubhouse he thought he glimpsed a tall figure standing just inside the glass conservatory watching them, and then it was gone, moving back into the shadows beyond.
âAbsolutely,â said Amanda, smoothing back her hair and throwing him an intimate smile.
Another four had come on to the adjacent grass court to play doubles, and a couple of guys were on their way over from the clubhouse. Liam squinted towards the conservatory, but whoever it was had not re-appeared. Just someone watching the action, he told himself.
Things had been going so well that he was disappointed when Amanda took her next service game, though she did say, âGod, darling, I thought you were going to give me a whitewash there,â which was quite
âRough,â she confirmed. âYouâll serve, I take it?â
They had a warm-up first, then launched into the first game. It was a perfect playing day â not too hot and with no breeze to speak of. Liam served a couple of aces and took the game easily. He began to feel better still.
âWhatâs your favourite subject to teach?â Amanda asked him at the end change. Her perfume mingled with the scent of the grass. Decadent and delicious.
âPoetry.â And Liam couldnât help himself â off he went with the verbals again. An end change was supposed to be a break of three minutes max but there was so much to say â especially about contemporary poetry, which was his particular bag â that it was almost ten minutes before they restarted.
But, hell, Amanda didnât seem to mind. She nodded and smiled, head to one side, eyes fixed on his face. âSo driven,â she said. âSo dedicated.â Smoothly, she collected the balls and prepared to serve.
If Estelle had said that, Liam reflected, trying not to swagger as he moved into the receiving court and flexed his playing arm again, he would think she was taking the piss. She would have been taking the piss â¦
He flinched at the thought, but re-directed himself by watching Amandaâs graceful service action as she stood in her virginal whites, framed by the grass courts; in the background, the honey-coloured stone and glass of Chestnut Groveâs clubhouse. What a picture she presented. And, God, that woman could toss a ball.
Unfortunately, it caught the net tape and didnât drop over. She served the next one wide.
âBad luck!â Liam called, moving over to the other court. She hadnât got into her stride yet, that much was obvious. And where Estelle was cynical, Liam found himself thinking, Amanda Lake was clearly as sincere as they came. Bit of a surprise that, and it just showed that you couldnât make assumptions about people â even the rich kind.
They had a couple of good rallys, then Amanda hit a forehand wide, and before Liam had quite grasped the fact, heâd taken the game and was about to serve again. It was easier to serve when you were seven foot tall. Once again, he managed two aces (he was sure one of them was long but Amanda said not and like the good sport she was, declined to re-take the point) and there he was, leading three love. Wowee â he hadnât realised he was so good.
âItâs ages since we played together,â Amanda said archly at the next end change. âYouâve really improved.â The sun had come out and Liam was really warming up. Amanda slipped off the fleece. The tennis dress had narrow shoulder straps that crossed over at the back.
âDo you think so?â Liam tried not to look either too pleased or at her breasts. She was sweating ever so slightly â only on Amanda it was more of a delicate glow â and her nipples were clearly outlined under the white fabric. He glanced away. Over at the clubhouse he thought he glimpsed a tall figure standing just inside the glass conservatory watching them, and then it was gone, moving back into the shadows beyond.
âAbsolutely,â said Amanda, smoothing back her hair and throwing him an intimate smile.
Another four had come on to the adjacent grass court to play doubles, and a couple of guys were on their way over from the clubhouse. Liam squinted towards the conservatory, but whoever it was had not re-appeared. Just someone watching the action, he told himself.
Things had been going so well that he was disappointed when Amanda took her next service game, though she did say, âGod, darling, I thought you were going to give me a whitewash there,â which was quite
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