Strike to the Heart

Chapter 1


Jo

As we stepped off the elevator, the pounding bass beat pulsed through the floor. The door at the end of the hall opened and music spilled out.

Darcy put a little skip in her step. “Looks like a rocking party.”

I grimaced. “Darcy, I don’t think this is a good idea. It’s only days before the tournament. We need our rest.”

Darcy patted me on the shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t be silly. You haven’t been knocked out of the opening round of a grand slam in how long? You don’t even have a match until Tuesday.”

I stopped. “I need to work on my volley. I’m not used to the new rackets yet.”

Darcy grabbed my arm and pulled me along. “That’s just an excuse and you know it.”

“The music is so loud it’s damaging my hearing. I need to be able to hear the linesman call the ball out.”

Darcy laughed. “What you need is a drink.” She sashayed toward the bar, her hips moving in time with the beat.

I rolled my eyes and hurried after her. Darcy was my closest friend. She had been for years. She was great at forcing me to be more sociable, and this was one of those times. Though I was reluctant now, I knew if I relaxed, I’d probably have a good time.

Darcy bent over a plastic cooler, and more than one male gaze examined her wiggling ass. When she straightened, she had two bottles. She twisted off the caps and tossed them on the table. She handed one bottle to me and tapped hers to mine. “Cheers!” she shouted.

There was a loud roar of noise from the corner and I turned my head. I couldn’t see what the commotion was.

Darcy took my hand. “Let’s dance.” She dragged me to a tiny open spot within a mass of moving bodies.

I took a swig from my bottle and allowed the music to roll over me. My body swayed and all thoughts of the US Open, tennis rackets, and line calls emptied from my mind.

A song I liked boomed out from the speakers, and I threw myself into dancing. Arms over my head, I turned around in a circle, swinging my hips to the beat. When I got back to my original position, Darcy was gone. I stopped moving and my eyes searched the crowd. It didn’t take long to find her dancing energetically with someone tall, dark, and handsome. Tall, dark, and handsome was exactly Darcy’s type.

I stopped dancing and squeezed between the undulating bodies, heading for the edge of the room. If I was going to be a wallflower, I should be standing along the wall. I lifted my bottle and took two big gulps. As the drink left my lips, my eyes fluttered across the room and landed on a specimen of male beauty I rarely saw. Tennis players are in good shape. I’m around them all the time and there are many attractive men on the tour. However, tennis players tend toward lean—muscled, but lean.

This man was anything but lean. He was Mr. Muscle personified. He glowed as if he were under a spotlight instead of just a pendant light. His muscles strained against his shirt, and I could see the edge of a tattoo peeking out from under his cuff. His hair was short, shaved close to his head. It wasn’t a style I usually found attractive, but on him, it looked sexy.

He was handsome, but not in a male model sort of way.

I knew I was staring, outright staring, but I couldn’t help myself. He lifted his head and his gaze zeroed in on me. He straightened and made his way across the room, looking neither left nor right, but heading directly towards me.

A shiver zipped down my spine. I froze in place.

When he reached me, he stared at me for a moment. “I’m Zane.”

Years of good manners had me lifting my hand. “Jo.”

Zane took my hand in his, but instead of shaking it, he rubbed his thumb over my palm. His hand was warm, hot even, and I had the urge to yank mine back, but I didn’t.

Zane took my bottle from me and placed it on the floor. Guiding my arms to his shoulders, he pulled me close. My breasts brushed against his chest and his hands roamed my back, settling on my hips.

Our moves didn’t fit the music at all, but I didn’t care. His shoulders were hard under my palms and I moved my hands to his neck, my fingertips drifting over his skin.

He ducked his head toward me and I lifted my face. His mouth covered mine, warm and mobile, and I parted my lips. His tongue slid inside, causing quivering shocks of pleasure to settle in my belly. A warning bell clanged in my brain.

His hands smoothed up my shirt and settled under my breasts. I ached for him to touch me. His breath hit my ear, sending tingles up and down my neck. “Let’s get out of here. Do you want to?”

I did. But this was so not me. I was Miss By-the-Book, except when I wasn’t. And when I wasn’t, bad things tended to happen.

I worked out every day. I watched my carbs. I did everything my tennis coach told me to do. But I had a terrible weakness for reckless bad boys, and Zane might as well have BAD BOY tattooed right on his forehead.