I tried, I suppose.
'Yeah,' I say, looking down at my lap. 'That's probably wise. We want you to win, after all.'
'Will you still be interested if I lose?'
I almost laugh. 'Of course I will! This has nothing to do with tennis, it's...'
And that's as far as I get before he kisses me. Deeply, tenderly and thoroughly enough to make my head spin.
'Just checking,' he murmurs, when we move apart. 'Are you doing anything tonight?'
'No.'
'Do you want to come round after the match? We can have some dinner... talk some more... see how we feel?'
'That sounds good.'
'Wonderful,' he says. And kisses me again.
The mirror says I have a giddy smile on my face when I leave his room and I don't think it's going anywhere. I'm not surprised that people say love is a distraction. The way I feel right now, I could never get anything done. I swear I can barely walk in a straight line. It feels like my insides are full of bubbles. Christ, it's a wonderful feeling. I hope it never goes away.
Having missed her last match while hiding from journalists, I want to go to Jane's today. Unfortunately, my competitor's pass (and with it Adrienne's guest pass) has expired since I'm out of the tournament, so we're forced to watch in the bar at Adrienne's hotel.
'So, you're seeing him tonight, eh?' Adrienne whispers. She wiggles her eyebrows up and down. 'That should be fun.'
'Don't get too excited,' I whisper back, as much to myself as her. 'He's got a quarter-final to play before that. He might be knackered.'
Adrienne grins. 'We'll all pray for a short match then. Straight sets, Lucy will probably get laid. Four sets, she might get laid. Five sets...'
'Shh,' I hiss, punching her on the arm. 'All he said was we'd have dinner, talk and then "see how we feel". No mention of anything else.'
The conversation is interrupted while we applaud Jane's break.
'Well, what did you expect him to say?' Adrienne whispers. '"Can I come over tonight and screw you senseless?" That doesn't sound like Sam's style. I bet that's what he was thinking.'
Christ, I hope so.
'You don't know that. We might be going to have a deep and meaningful conversation. And cuddle. Stuff like that.'
What else do couples do when they're not having sex?
'Which would obviously be great.'
Adrienne raises a perfectly groomed eyebrow at me.
'Particularly if it was followed by rampant sex.'
She chuckles as applause starts up again. Jane's just won the first set. We join in a bit late. We're really being terrible spectators. It's just as well we're not watching it live.
'Now that's the Lucy Bennett I know and love,' Adrienne laughs. 'Just try not to do too much damage, mon chou. He's still got two rounds after this, you know.'
I'm distracted by wondering what Sam's like in bed. If he has half as much stamina in the sack as he does on the court, I may not be able to walk tomorrow.
What a shame.
I don't know, the things you do for love.
I drag my mind back to the present, since the temperature seems to have shot up. I feel decidedly flushed. I pull off my jacket.
'Hot?'
I shrug.
'Well, I guess that's understandable. It is all of 18 degrees.'
'Oh, shut up,' I say fondly and go back to watching the match.
Jane wins her match in fine style. I was impressed by what I saw (in between Sam-related daydreams) and I think she'll do well. A junior champion would be very cool...
We grab some food and settle back down to watch Joe's match.
Joe is in a very arrogant mood. You can see it in the way he's walking - like he has swollen balls. He drops the swagger, though, when he walks onto court to start the match. He's wearing a black sweatband - a sure sign he means business. He bounces the ball a few extra times, just to make his opponent sweat. Something tells me that this is going to be a very short match.
'Wow, Joe's on fire today!' someone gasps in admiration, as Joe takes the first set having barely broken a sweat. His opponent is looking lost. Joe is just all over him.
'Breaking up with you really seems to suit him,' Adrienne whispers in my ear.
I have a nasty feeling she may be right. His anger at being chucked for Sam is manifesting itself as a need to control things on the court. And, doubtlessly, a burning desire to meet - and beat - Sam in the final. Far from damaging him, I may have given him exactly the extra something he needed to win this title.
The room bursts into applause as Joe takes the second set with a stunning passing shot that no one should be able to pull off. Nerves are starting to build in me. Sam has to win this tournament, not Joe. Please don't let it be me who disrupts the balance.
Joe's opponent fights for his life in the third set, but Joe steams ahead, finding an answer to every challenge. Before long, it's match point.
And then it's over. No hesitation. No missed opportunities. Done.
I have to applaud.
Sam is up next. By the time he gets onto court I'm a bundle of nerves. I never felt like this about any of Joe's matches. This one I'm personally invested in, on so many levels. He's my favourite player, he's British and, above all, he's my boyfriend.
He really is. For all of five hours now. And it's me he'll be coming to after the match. Me who'll congratulate, soothe and support him. Me who'll kiss and cuddle him. And use up any remaining energy.
I can't believe that gorgeous man is mine.
Adrienne nudges me and I shake what is probably a glazed expression out of my eyes. I just hope I wasn't drooling.
By the end of the first set, it's clear that Trenkov is having one of his brilliant days. I start picking at my nails again (I really have to work on quitting that). Sam is in good form, with no sign of Monday's wobbles, but so far the match is pretty even. If Trenkov keeps this up, this one could run long. Crud.
You can see the focus on Sam's face. Utterly devoted to the job in hand. Christ, he's sexy.
The first goes to a tie-break, after brilliant tennis on both sides. Sam manages to win it, but only just. Same story in the second set, only this time it's Trenkov that sneaks a victory. One set all. And both of them tough.
In the third set, Sam manages to break Trenkov, only to be broken back immediately. I start grinding my teeth and continue until Adrienne tells me to quit it. Another bloody tie-break.
Sam wins it. I start praying very hard for him to take the next set. Or, ideally, for Trenkov to fall and sprain something and have to pull out of the match.
It doesn't happen. A fourth tie-break and Trenkov takes it. A fifth set to decide. And if neither of them breaks, it could go on all night.
Then disaster. Trenkov breaks Sam early in the set and he doesn't break back straight away. I sit there, wringing my hands, heart thumping. He can't lose. He absolutely can't. He has to get to the semis. And then the final. And then win!
The games creep by on serve until finally it's 5-4 to Trenkov. If Sam doesn't break now, he's lost the match.
The tension in the bar is almost visible. All eyes are glued on the screen. Even the bartender's given up serving to watch.
It's neck and neck to Deuce. Trenkov gets a match point, but can't convert it. Then another - ditto. Then Sam gets the advantage. Just one more point to level the score.
He gets it! The whole bar yells as one. I bounce up and down in my seat and gasp with relief. 5 all.
It continues on serve to 9 all.
Finally, Sam breaks him to take the set. And the match. I join the rest of the bar in applauding Trenkov as he walks off, although silently I'm cursing his name.
'Be a vibrator night then, eh?' says Adrienne.
Sometime later, I go up to Sam's room. A tired looking man in a blue T-shirt opens the door.
'Thanks for coming over here,' he says. 'I would just like to say that I'm knackered, so please don't take it personally if I fall asleep.'
I grin as I follow him in. 'Tough day at the office?'
'Almost tough enough to make me wish I worked in one. Man, that bloke is hard to beat when he's on form.'
'But you did it.'
'Yeah well. Another one down. But, of more immediate concern, where would you like to go for dinner?'
We could go out. But he looks exhausted.
'How about room service?'
'Excellent,' he says, looking relieved. 'I've heard terrific things about that restaurant.'
We sit beside each other on the bed and study the menu. We're not quite touching and I'm dying to close the gap, but I suddenly feel... shy. Ridiculous for a grown woman who's had plenty of experience with men. But this is different.
Sam phones down with the order. We sit down, legs stretched out in front of us. For the first time I don't mind my big feet, as Sam's toes rub against them.
I feel like a teenager again as I inch closer, until I can feel his warm, solid frame against mine. He slips an arm around my shoulders. I sneak a look at him and smile shyly.
He grins back and pushes a lock of hair behind my ear. 'It's been a while since I've been right at the beginning like this. I'd forgotten what it's like.'
'Me too,' I murmur. 'Remind me, what comes next?'
Sam kisses me, pulling me close. I wrap my arms around him and hold him closer. Returning everything he gives me and melting into it until I can no longer remember anything but him.
'Bring back any memories?' Sam asks, an indeterminate time later.
'No.' It's no lie. 'Try again.'
He does. The kissing goes on and on. Yet, by unspoken agreement, it doesn't lead to more. Still, it's strangely satisfying.
A knock at the door makes me jump. I'd forgotten all about dinner. We're forced to separate, so we talk instead.
'Even at Wimbledon last year I was only just feeling like myself again. Fortunately, this year is going much better.'
He looks steadily at me and I know I'm included in that.
'Things haven't been going too well for me,' I confess, 'but they've improved immeasurably. Well, mostly.'
'Mostly?'
How much should I share? We've only just got together. Joe would have grunted until I shut up. But Sam isn't Joe.
By this time, Sam is looking concerned. I force a smile. 'Well, my parents are having a few problems.'
'What sort of problems?'
'Oh, you know,' I say, waving at nothing. 'My mum's left my dad and gone to stay with my aunt, who hates all men and will probably convince her never to go back to him. Would you like my tomato?'
Sam blinks at me. To my horror, I feel tears pricking my eyes. I can't cry in front of a man, especially not on a first date.
'It doesn't matter,' I say, blinking furiously and rummaging in my pocket for a tissue. 'I'm sure it'll work out fine.'
A sob escapes.
I feel movement and then Sam's arms are around me. And there I am, crying into his shoulder. If my mum could see me now, she'd disown me.
'I'm sorry for crying,' I sniff, as it starts to die down.
Sam strokes my hair. 'You can cry,' he murmurs. 'It's okay. I cry.'
'You do?'
'You remember the US Open a few years ago? The one where I just missed out on a Grand Slam and everyone went on about how well I took it?'
I wipe my eyes and blow my nose. 'Uh huh.'
'I cried then. After I got back to my hotel. For hours. I also drank most of the contents of the mini bar and smashed a racquet over the back of a chair.'
I smile weakly. 'I like you so much better now I know you're not perfect.'
A smile slowly takes over his face and then he kisses me again.
Sam falls asleep while I'm in the bathroom. I try reading for a while, but I can't concentrate. I keep sneaking looks at him. He looks so peaceful.
Eventually I turn out the lights and settle down beside him. I watch him sleep for a little while until I drift off myself.
Chapter 13
Thursday. Week 2, Day 4 (Ladies' Semi-Finals)
It takes me a minute after I wake up to realise what feels different. It's the first time I've woken up with a man beside me and we've still been dressed.
I gently stroke a finger over his hair. It's all bristly. He's going grey around the sides, just a little. I think it suits him.
He stirs. I quickly pull my hand back and then chide myself. I'm allowed to do that. I think.
He blinks sleepily at me. 'Morning,' he murmurs, voice all rough and scratchy.
'Morning,' I whisper back.
We move into and against each other, hands slowly exploring. I can feel the change from last night. Things are definitely going to heat up. He drops his head to kiss my neck, finding just the right spot. I nearly climb up him. I wrap my leg around him and press closer.
In one smooth motion, he slides a hand under my vest and rubs my nipple between his fingers. I gasp and arch into the touch. He gives a low moan and moments later I'm underneath him. Six feet of tanned, toned, hard - very hard - man. Oh, yes...
Sam's mobile sounds a klaxon worthy of a prison lock down right by my ear. He curses and moves off me to check it. 'Oh, shit.'
'What?'
He groans. 'We've slept in. I'm being interviewed in half an hour. And before that I've got to shave, dress and think of intelligent things to say.'
I hate journalists.
'Ohhh.' I thump my head back on the pillow.
He looks down at me. I look up at him. Neither of us moves.
'Maybe if we were really quick,' I suggest.
Sam releases a long slow breath. 'As incredibly tempting as it is, I'm going to have to say no. I don't want the first time to be a rush job.'
He slowly sits up, kneeling between my legs. His eyes rake over my body. He swallows hard. 'Right, I'm going to take a cold shower,' he says. 'And then go do any number of things I really wish I didn't have to do today, but do. Tonight, I'm coming over to your house. Six o'clock, six thirty at the latest. And then I'm going to lock the door, take the phone off the hook, close the curtains and make you come screaming my name.'
'I can't wait,' I say, eyes locked on his.
'Me neither,' he whispers and forces himself off the bed.
My phone rings as I'm reluctantly heading out of Sam's hotel.
'Not yet,' I answer.
'Oops!' Adrienne giggles. 'I haven't interrupted you, have I?'
I sigh. 'Believe me; if Sam were here and we were naked I would not have answered the phone. The only thing I might have done with it is throw it out of the window. As it is, he is not here. He had to run off this morning to be interviewed. If I find out by whom I may have to kill them.'
'So last night...?'
'He fell asleep before dessert.'
'So what's the plan?'
'Tonight,' I say, feeling a throb down below.
'What are you going to wear?'
I look down at myself. 'Well... nothing.'
Adrienne laughs. 'I meant before that. Underwear wise. It might be a good idea to get something new. You know, something Joe's never seen.'
She has a point. Not that Sam will know the difference, but I will.
That means I have to go shopping. And there's only one person I can call for fashion advice.
'Definitely not,' Maddy pronounces, frowning at the basque I've indicated. 'Your upper body is too well-developed for that. You'll look like something out of The Rocky Horror Picture Show.'
'Is that bad?'
'It's about transvestites.'
I put it back.
'You know, maybe I should just wear a little sports top,' I muse, eyeing some over the other side of the shop. 'They're comfortable and really easy to take off.'
'White cotton?' Maddy says doubtfully, hunting through a rack of lace scraps. 'It's not really sexy, is it?'
Adrienne grins at us over the rack. 'Oh, I don't know,' she whispers. 'Henri loves white cotton knickers. I think they remind him of his s
chool days. It's a good job they're cheap, what with him always ripping them off.'
I goggle at her. Suddenly I see her husband in a whole new light. I'd never have guessed he was the ripping type.
I say as much and she sticks her tongue out at me. 'Do you really think I'd have married a puritan?'
'How about this one?' Maddy suggests, holding up something blue and see-through.
I smile. 'I think he might like that.'
'Or this!' Adrienne produces something black, red and frankly obscene.
'I want him to fall in love with me,' I point out. 'Not leave an envelope full of £20 notes on the dresser. I think outfits like that need to wait until we're a little more established.'
Maddy is staring at the ensemble. 'If Robert had bought that for me, I'd have been too shocked to speak! It's disgusting.'
'No!' Adrienne holds it up against herself. 'It's just nicely slutty. I think I'll try it on.'
'This is a little more my style,' Maddy says, holding up something cute and demure with white flowers.
'Ah, but will the man in your life like it?'
Maddy blushes prettily. 'I don't know yet.'
I look up from the rack I'm going through. 'Since when do you have one? Who is he and why haven't I heard about him?'
Maddy busies herself examining a white lace bra. 'Because there's scarcely anything to tell. I've been asked out for Saturday. He's a friend of a friend. I've met him several times and he seems very nice.'
'Fabulous.'
'Wonderful. New underwear is vital then,' Adrienne says.
'I'm not going to sleep with him!'
I hide a smile.
'It'll make you feel good,' Adrienne explains. 'Confident. Belle. That's all.'
Maddy eyes her chosen set doubtfully. 'Well... confident is good.'
'Absolument.' Adrienne brandishes her sizeable collection. 'Let's go see if we all look suitably ravishing in these.'
Later on finds me sitting at my parents' kitchen table, opposite the man formerly known as Dad. He hasn't shaved, which is rare. He's still in his dressing gown, which is even rarer. And he's drinking the camomile tea that Mum likes but I know for a fact he detests.
After Wimbledon Page 17