Topspin

by Soliman, W.

  Claire couldn’t blame the girls for gaping at him. She prevented herself from following their example by adopting the attitude of polite disinterest she’d perfected over the years for use in circumstances such as these. He was certainly a hunk, guaranteed to liven up their snooty club. Even the formidable Trina wasn’t immune to his charm. She was blushing beneath the heat of the hundred-watt smile he’d just turned upon her, coquettishly emulating the behavior of the girls she’d terrorized as headmistress of a failing London comprehensive for so many years.

  Claire valued her status as the best-looking woman at the club. With a great body and lovely personality to accompany those looks, the rest of the women should have been wary of her. That was the way the world worked. But because of her devotion to Joe and disinterest in other men, the women not only accepted her but looked up to her as a style guru and consulted her on any number of issues. Anything from relationships to recalcitrant children to what to wear to the next club dinner. Nothing of any import was undertaken by the ladies without first obtaining Claire’s opinion.

  Naturally they were all interested in her take on Colin. She advised caution, suggesting that a man with such looks and obvious charm probably wasn’t what he appeared to be on the surface. But that wasn’t what they wanted to hear.

  “If the rumors are to be believed, he’s given up a prestigious post in a much bigger club just to join us in this backwater.”

  “The Porchfield Country Club is hardly a backwater,” protested someone.

  “The tennis side of it is. We’ve always been considered the poor relations to the golfers, don’t forget. They resent the fact that we share their facilities but only pay a fraction of the amount they do to be members.”

  “Yes, but they’ve got all those acres of fairways and stuff that need maintaining.”

  “Yes, well, anyway,” Claire said, “he’ll have to start from scratch with us lot. Why would he do something like that through choice?”

  “Who cares!” Sheila had yet to take her eyes off him.

  Claire smiled as the others nodded their agreement. “Yes, but don’t you think it’s a bit fishy, and a bit sudden, for that matter? I happen to know that this time last week Trina still hadn’t found anyone to fill the vacancy. I doubt if his motives are purely altruistic.”

  “Let’s quit the analysis and enjoy the moment while we can, just in case he decides he’s made a mistake.”

  “Do you think he knows his way round the island?” Sheila asked. “If he needs a guide…” Her words trailed off amidst a bubble of subdued laughter.

  “It must be fabulous to be so in love with your husband that even someone who looks like him doesn’t make you go weak at the knees,” Angela said. “A bit boring, though.”

  Claire bit back a laugh. If only she knew! “Oh, I can see why he’s got you all steamed up, but I’ve got too much going with Joe to be tempted to stray. Don’t let it stop you, though. If nothing else, it’ll annoy Jack.”

  “You think so? I get the impression that Jack knows the man.”

  “It’s possible, I suppose. Jack seems to know a lot of the most unlikely people.”

  “Yes, but it doesn’t matter. Jack doesn’t care what I do because he’s not interested in me that way. He’s made that blatantly obvious.” Angela sighed. “I guess I’ll just have to face the fact that I’m wasting my time with him.”

  “He may not be interested now, but if I know anything about men, the moment you show an interest in someone else he’ll go all possessive on you.”

  Trina had stopped blathering on and invited Colin to tell the club a little bit about himself. Angela surprised Claire by abruptly breaking off their conversation and focusing her full attention on Colin. For the first time she could remember, Angela willingly curtailed a conversation about Jack. She was obsessed with Jack. She seldom spoke about anything else when the two women were alone, seeking Claire’s advice but never acting upon it. Claire found it increasingly difficult to maintain her façade of disinterest and was almost tempted to make a move on Jack herself, just to show Angela how it ought to be done. Something told her Jack wouldn’t need a map to find his way around a woman’s body. She’d never permitted herself to think about him in that way before, but now that the seed had been planted she savored the prospect of the challenge, wondering if she dared. Would his respect for Joe hold him back? Cynically, she rather doubted it.

  “I feel rather humble,” Colin said with an engaging smile. He stared down at the sea of up-turned faces, appearing anything but humble as his eyes creased above a blistering smile that screamed self-confidence. “But also very privileged to take up this position. I played county tennis in a previous life and took up coaching when I got too old to compete at that level. I’ve been working in France in a large club since then, which rather lacked the personal touch. I wanted to be somewhere smaller where I could relate directly to the players and make some sort of difference. I see player development here as a priority, and am particularly keen to bring on the junior section. We shouldn’t lose sight of the fact that the kids are the future of any club.”

  “There you go, then,” Sheila said in an undertone.

  Claire merely nodded, privately marveling at people’s willingness to be taken in, believing what they were told simply because they wanted it to be true.

  “I also hope to develop healthy competition for places in the teams and raise the club’s ranking locally.”

  “He can raise my ranking any time he likes,” Angela said.

  “He is rather compelling,” agreed Jodie.

  Claire, the respectable wife of the eminent consultant, smiled and said nothing. Her mobile phone beeped in her pocket. Unseen by the ladies who still gazed longingly at Colin, she flipped it open and glanced at the text message displayed on the screen. She felt herself becoming moist when she read Rod’s curt message. He’d be in the apartment in an hour’s time and woe betide her if she was late.

  Somehow Claire got through lunch without displaying any signs of her growing impatience. Being in Rod’s arms was the only thing she could think about. Dizzy with anticipation, she had difficulty concentrating on the conversations buzzing around her. She pushed the food around her plate, nibbling at the delicious local crab without tasting it, willing the time to pass more quickly.

  Claire loved her husband as much as she was capable of loving anyone other than herself. The problem was that he was twenty years older than she. He had no knowledge of her insatiable sexual appetites. Joe would be shocked if he ever found out how frequently she needed to be penetrated in order to feel whole, and would lose all respect for her. Joe was very much a lights out, missionary position sort of bloke, which left Claire with no alternative but to indulge in a series of discreet affairs. She never risked going with anyone in their own circle, which meant she’d have to pass on Colin Palmer for the same reason she wouldn’t act out her fantasy with Jack. They were too close to home and it would never remain a secret.

  The meal eventually came to an end and people started table-hopping, which was just the opportunity Claire had been waiting for. She could escape now unobserved. With all the excitement generated by Colin’s presence no one would miss her. Standing up with more haste than she ought to have displayed, she sensed Jack’s eyes boring into her back. Damn, she’d forgotten about him! He was sitting at another table but had obviously been keeping her in his sights and was at her side in seconds.

  “Hot date?”

  “Whatever do you mean?” She linked her arm through his, trying to keep the panic out of her voice.

  “Oh nothing, it’s just that you seem in a big hurry to leave. I’ve seen you look at your watch several times.”

  “Yes, you might well have done.” She matched his light tone but inwardly cursed herself for allowing her impatience to show. No one at her table had noticed, but not much got past Jack. “Hot date at the hairdressers.”

  It was all Rod’s fault that she’d let her guard down. A la
borer on the building site close to where she walked the dog, he was the best she’d ever had. All brawn and little brain, just the way she liked them. The first time she’d noticed him, the sheer beauty of the man, standing with the sun enhancing his muscular physique, took her completely by surprise. She’d stood, rooted to the spot, staring at him like a moron. She simply hadn’t been able to help it. He’d been stripped to the waist and his sun-tanned torso, muscles flexing in his broad shoulders as he effortlessly swung a pick-axe, mesmerized her. He paused when he caught her staring, pushed his dark hair out of his eyes and smiled directly at her, as though reading her thoughts.

  She had forced her feet to move away without acknowledging him, but already knew she would walk in the same direction the following day in the hope of seeing him again. She was severely disappointed to find he wasn’t there, but almost jumped out of her skin when a large hand came to rest on the small of her back.

  “Looking for someone?” Rod had asked, raising an arrogant brow.

  And that was how it had begun. Joe was a gentle and compassionate lover, but Claire lusted after a bit of rough, which Rod was amply qualified to provide. When she tried to take control of the situation—and Claire always had to be the one in control of her affairs, setting the boundaries—by telling him that she’d merely been walking the dog, he’d looked straight into her eyes and chuckled.

  “No, you weren’t. Don’t lie to me again or I’ll have to punish you. Now, tell me what it is that you really want, and I’ll see if I can satisfy you.”

  The alarm bells should have rung at that point, but Claire was already hooked, trembling and submissive beneath his smoldering gaze.

  Jack walked her to her car, opened the door and folded his tall body into a graceful crouch in order to kiss her before sending her on her way. Free at last to speculate on how she would pass the afternoon, Claire felt the moisture between her legs increasing and touched herself there. She smiled. Rod’s ego would receive a boost when he discovered she was literally bubbling over with anticipation at the thought of being with him.

  Jack returned to the clubhouse deep in thought, concerned about Claire’s haste to leave. He was willing to bet that it would take more than a hairdressing appointment to bring such animation to her features. In anyone else he’d have put her sparkling eyes and glowing complexion down to an affair. But Claire wasn’t anyone else. She was the wife of his best friend, a doting mother and one of the few people he knew who had standards and lived by them. He respected her for that, envied Joe his good fortune, and made a joke out of the fact that he fancied her rotten.

  Pushing his unease to the back of his mind, Jack turned his thoughts to the new coach. Jack knew him well, but not by the name of Palmer. Of all the people to appear in his little corner of the world! Jack delayed his return to the bar, unable to face socializing until he’d got his temper under control. He hadn’t experienced such a sense of unbridled fury since he’d packed in his old profession. He thought he’d left his violent past behind him in London, but at that moment he was frightened of what he might be capable of doing to Palmer, as he now called himself, given the slightest provocation.

  What to do about him? Palmer, as he must remember to think of and refer to him as, knew more than Jack was comfortable with him knowing about his past, but then that worked both ways. Played county tennis, indeed! Jack blew air through his nose. Acted as ball-boy for the county players, more like. But still, he couldn’t stay here. Jack had no intention of his life being compromised by exaggerated tales of his exploits in the East End. Besides, he had no idea how things stood between Palmer and Tania nowadays, and seeing those two together, all lovey-dovey, simply wasn’t an option.

  Tania. He thought he’d finally managed to get her out of his head, but Palmer’s arrival brought it all flooding back, and the pain of her betrayal was as fresh and debilitating as though it had happened yesterday. Tania! His wife and the love of his life. She was a spellbinding Russian émigré who’d burst upon the ugly East End scene like a breath of fresh air, captivating him with her innocence and zest for life. He’d treated her like a goddess, showering her with presents, whisking her off to exotic locations. Anything she wanted, because she was perfection, transcending the brutal realities of his working days and lending purpose and meaning to the madness that was his existence.

  And then she’d proved that she too had feet of clay, just like all the others. She’d gone behind his back with that bastard Palmer. Clenching his fists as he re-entered the clubhouse, Jack was aware of the rigid set to his features. He’d yet to develop a forgiving nature and wasn’t prepared to be played for a fool by Palmer for a second time.

  Jack watched Colin adroitly working the room, sucking up to the men, smiling flirtatiously at the women. He didn’t have to work too hard at it because he was pursued by a gaggle of members of both sexes, besieging him with questions.

  “Yes, I quite agree—Ed, is it? Team selection should be based on form, and places competed for, rather than selection resting in the hands of the committee. I plan to hold weekly sessions for both men and ladies.” He bestowed an open smile on Angela and Jodie. “I’ll keep a table of results, and the players who come out on top will be the first choice for the teams.”

  Ed grinned with satisfaction. “That’s good to hear, Colin. It’s about time we did these things professionally. I have no end of ideas to run past you that would work well. If you want my help, I can point out to you…”

  Jack tuned out Ed’s sycophantic monologue, calmer now that the first flash of anger had subsided. He knew Colin would get to him in his own time and had no intention of being the one to make the first approach. He leaned an elbow on the bar, deep in thought as he watched his adversary play his audience like the master manipulator Jack knew him to be. It took him a moment to register that Stella had joined him.

  “Hi, sweetheart, have you got a drink?”

  “Yes, thanks.” She smiled, on the surface her usual bubbly self, but Jack thought he detected tension in her body language. “What do you make of our new coach, then?”

  “Too early to tell. Say, what happened to your face?”

  “Oh, just an argument with the shower door.” She gave a false-sounding laugh. “The door won, as you can see. It was careless of me but I was running late, as usual.”

  Jack didn’t believe a word of it. He’d seen the faces of too many women who’d received back-handers from their so-called men to mistake the signs. He might be a violent man himself, but he’d never turned that violence against women, not even Tania when he’d caught her cheating. He was contemptuous of any man who felt he had to prove something by bullying a female, and wasn’t a bit surprised to discover Ed fell into that category.

  “You don’t have to take it from him, love.”

  “What do you mean?” Her expression was panic-stricken. “I don’t know—”

  Jack looked directly into her eyes. “It’s none of my business, Stella. I just want you to know that if you ever need a shoulder, or someone to punch his lights out for that matter, then you know where to come.”

  Stella offered him a wan smile, her eyes filling with tears. “You’re a very perceptive man, Jack.”

  He chuckled. “That’s not the worst thing I’ve ever been called.”

  Colin approached at that moment. If his intention had been to seize the opportunity to get the initial confrontation over with while Jack was talking to someone else, it backfired when Stella excused herself and left them alone. Did she do that because she didn’t want Colin to see her on the brink of tears, or did the curious look she shot Jack mean she’d picked up on the tension between the two men? Jack couldn’t tell.

  “Small world, eh, Jack?” Colin dropped the refined accent he’d adopted for the benefit of the other members.

  “Too bloody small. What the hell are you doing here?”

  “Taking up a job offer. Your Trina was very keen to have me.”

  Jack snorted. “Don’t ge
t too comfortable. You won’t be staying.”

  “Oh, come on now, Jack, I didn’t take you for such a bad loser. Besides, our little bit of bother is all water under the bridge now. It happened a long time ago, and it’s not healthy to bear grudges. Can’t we make the best of the situation and try to get along? I’m not the same person I used to be.”

  Jack threw a contemptuous look his way. “Leopards don’t change their spots.”

  “Does that apply to you as well, Jack?”

  “This isn’t about me.”

  “It ought to be. Everyone tells me you’re the leading light among the men players, so you and I need to get along.”

  “Yeah, like that’s gonna happen.”

  “Come on, Jack! I bet they’d be amused to learn who taught you to play tennis in the first place. And who taught Tania too, for that matter.”

  Jack clenched his fists, breathing hard as he waited for his temper—and the urge to floor the arrogant bastard—to subside. Colin, who knew what Jack used to do for a living, should show more respect. He should certainly have more sense than to voluntarily refer to the time seven years ago when Jack hadn’t been married long and Tania had persuaded him to take tennis lessons. Tania could persuade him to anything then, even though he’d tried to tell her that East End enforcers didn’t play tennis. They had their macho images to protect. But much to his surprise he took to the game like a natural and enjoyed it.

  Then he came home early one day and found his wife and Colin engaged in an energetic bout of sex on the floor of his living room. He beat Colin senseless and threw Tania out, refusing to listen when she begged for an opportunity to explain. What was there to explain? Tania, the focus of Jack’s life, was soiled goods now, and he was relentless in his determination to be rid of her, knowing what they’d once had could never be rekindled.