I elbowed her. "If you slept with half the guys you say you have, you wouldn't be able to walk."
"Practice makes perfect." She winked and did a fair imitation of a wide-stance cowboy swagger.
I laughed and shook my head. "I've missed you."
"Same here, babe." She slung an arm around my shoulder. "But here's the deal. If you don't bag the hottest guy here tonight, I'm going to sign you up with every online dating site in Cali. And I'll use that pic of you with the mud mask that looked like you had shit smeared all over your face."
"Is that the best you can do?" My snooty glare failed when I chuckled.
She tapped her bottom lip, pretending to think. "If that doesn't do the trick, maybe I'll get my mom to tell your dad you're lonely and would appreciate a fix-up with one of his tennis protégés—"
"You wouldn't dare." Dani's mom was a shameless Hollywood socialite who made meddling in people's lives an art form. As for my dad, I'd already been subjected to his less than subtle matchmaking as a teenager, which is why Dani's threat held serious fear factor. If those two got together on my behalf? A nunnery would be the only place I could escape their machinations.
Dani's grin was positively evil. "Try me."
I crossed my arms and puffed out a huffy breath. "Fine. I'm going to find the guy least like a tennis jock and do him tonight."
Translated: I'd walk up to him, beg him to play along with me long enough to get my trouble-making BFF off my case, then escape to my villa on the pretext I was spending the night with him.
I'd deal with telling Dani the truth in the morning.
"That's my girl." Dani tweaked my nose, grabbed my shoulders and twirled me in a slow three-sixty. "See anyone you fancy?"
Yeah, Ryan Gosling on the DVD cover of his latest movie, but that was back in my villa and unless I played along I'd be stuck here with Dani doing this all night.
Increasingly tired of Dani's never-ending need to hang out with a guy to make a party complete, I glanced around at the requisite tennis jocks in immaculate sports jackets, chinos and polo shirts. They chugged bottles of water, trying to make a good impression on my dad, the coaches and the rest of the academy crew. A few had potential in the looks department but they'd be too scared of pissing off my dad to play along with my lame scheme. No way would they leave with me with my dad looking on, on the pretense of screwing me or not.
And that's when I saw him.
The perfect guy.
Well, not the perfect guy, but the guy I knew could come through for me tonight.
He stood in the far corner of the room, away from the crowd, partially hidden behind the pot-planted palms, strategically placed to offer some privacy for recalcitrant loners like him.
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.