All of the girls’ heads swiveled toward Spencer, too. “Hey,” she answered, looking up and trying to remain poised and confident.
Colin took a few steps toward her. “Are you a new member of my cheering section?”
Spencer cocked her head. “I don’t really do cheering sections—unless I’m the athlete being cheered on. But maybe I could make an exception.”
The groupies began nudging each other. “Who is that?” one of them whispered.
“I bet she isn’t even a club member.” Wedge Heels didn’t even bother to lower her voice.
Spencer glared at them, and every groupie looked away en masse. Suddenly, they reminded her of her parents. Excluding her. Acting like she didn’t belong. Acting like she wasn’t good enough to be here.
She turned to Colin again. “Like I said, I’m more into doing than cheering. What I’d rather do is volley with you sometime. If you ever need a partner, that is.”
Colin raised an eyebrow. “Do you play?”
Spencer flicked her hair over her shoulder. “Of course I play.” Her parents had made her take lessons since she was four.
Colin leaned back and eyed her carefully. After five long beats, he looked down and pulled out a BlackBerry from his bag. “You’re on, then. What’s your name?”
Spencer told him, and the girls started whispering again. “Let’s play tonight,” Colin decided, tapping something into his phone. He didn’t bother to give Spencer his name. He probably assumed she already knew it. He was right—and she liked his confidence.
Spencer pretended to mentally check her schedule. “I think I could arrange that.”
“Good.” Colin tossed the empty AminoSpa bottle in a perfect arc into the trash can. “See you tonight at five-thirty. Same court. Winner buys drinks.”
Spencer suppressed a smile and slipped her sunglasses back over her eyes. Had they just made a date? And he had assumed she was old enough to drink. Score.
Colin shot her a wink and sauntered away. Spencer was dying to watch him climb the stairs and glide toward the locker room, but she restrained herself, not wanting to seem too eager. When she turned toward the gate, she came face-to-face with Colin’s groupies, who were still staring at her.
She looked them straight in the eye. “Is there a problem?”
The girls flinched. Their mouths dropped open into matching round Os.
“I didn’t think so,” Spencer said breezily. She pulled her tote higher on her shoulder and strode off the court to meet Melissa in the spa. She could feel their gazes on her back the whole way down the sidewalk. The sun felt brighter, the air more fragrant, and when she glanced up at the blue sky, she saw a floating cloud that formed a near-perfect heart. She had a tennis date with a hot guy, and she already knew what the score would be: love–love.
Chapter 3
Some Girls Get All the Breaks
Smack.
Spencer couldn’t help but watch in awe as her serve arced through the cool evening air, forming a perfect path over the net like a shooting star.
When Colin raised his racket in preparation to meet the ball, though, she turned her attention to more important things—namely, the way a strip of tanned, taut skin peeked out from over the waistband of his shorts as he swung to meet her serve. She let out a deep breath when his swing, which had looked so powerful and targeted from her side of the court, instead met the ball at a wrong angle, weakly, causing his volley back to dribble out of bounds. She hid a smile. Colin was so clearly letting her win.
“Good job, Spencer,” Colin huffed, zipping up his racket into its case and flashing her a grin. She could feel him looking her up and down as she approached the net, ready to shake his hand, and was glad she’d put on her shortest tennis skirt and most fitted tank.
“You too,” she cooed, reaching out her hand. Their palms met, and Colin held on to her hand just a smidge too long. It had to be intentional.
“You weren’t kidding—you are good,” he added, still breathing heavily.
She ducked her head and grinned. “My parents insisted on lessons when I was a kid. My sister and I started playing in tournaments when we were still in grade school!” She pulled out the rubber band from her hair and hoped the light would catch its sheen as it spilled over her shoulders. “What about you? How did you get the bug?”
“Whoa,” he laughed. Up close, she realized just how chiseled his cheekbones were, and he had a tiny dimple in his left cheek when he smiled. “That’s a conversation way too involved to have on a tennis court. Are you hungry?”
“Starved,” she admitted.
“Well, then, it’s lucky I brought us a little picnic.” His eyes twinkled as he led her to a grassy knoll on the south side of the courts and spread out a towel.
Spencer inhaled deeply, taking in the faintest trace of Colin’s spicy cologne. It mingled with the salt air and the smell of grilled fish and steak that lingered from the restaurant just across the patio. Colin reached into his bag and pulled out two ready-made fruit salads, a wrapped cheese plate, and two bottles of AminoSpa. He placed a toothpick directly in the center of each cheese square, then arranged the AminoSpas side by side, labels out.
Spencer laughed. “You’re as OCD as I am,” she said, pointing to the meticulous platter.
“Guilty. I even hang my tennis polos by color,” Colin said with a sheepish grin. “I suppose it’s an athlete thing. Like how Nadal has that whole routine before he serves or how Sharapova can’t step on the lines of the court when the ball’s not in play.”