Game, Set, Match (A Humorous Contemporary Romance) (Love Match)

by Malone, Nana

  What a question to ask. She felt the blush tinge her cheeks. It was also one there was no neat answer to. She mumbled, “Yes, I’m fine.”

  She heard him shuffle off, and she stared down at her legs. Once well-muscled and toned legs had long since lost that sleekness of youth. Though still toned, they weren’t as muscled. Oh, if only to have the ass of a seventeen year old again. You’re not seventeen anymore. You’d better remember it. Not like Jason hadn’t already seen everything she had to offer. Heat flooded her face. He’d promised never to remind her of last Sunday night. Could he be trusted?

  She discarded the skinny jeans onto the towering pile of clothes on her bed, which now resembled a brightly colored pig sty. With a sigh, she grabbed a pair of high-waisted jeans, now all the rage when she let Jessica drag her shopping. Was it her imagination or did the dark denim make her ass look twice as big? What happened to slimming dark colors?

  What if he doesn’t come? If she bothered with the makeup and the clothes and the hair, and he didn’t show, she’d kill him. As she stared at the clumpy black spiders on her lashes, she wondered how old her mascara was. She hoped Jessica would know how to fix it.

  Primping. She was primping for some idiot man, something she promised she’d never do. He was a hot idiot man, but that didn’t make it better. So much for the promises made to herself. Note to self: Only make promises you can keep.

  She hated herself for that, but something stopped her from calling him to cancel. She’d dreamt, fantasized, about him for years. The seventeen-year-old girl in her wanted to believe in fairy tales. The woman in her wanted to exorcise the memory of him once and for all. And tonight with Nick, Jessica and Simon as her witnesses, there would be an exorcism.

  There was another soft knock at her bedroom door before a bleached blonde wigged head popped in. “Hey lady. I’m here to lend reinforceme—” Jessica stopped and stared at her.

  Izzy looked down at her outfit, jeans and a button down silk blouse. “What’s wrong with my outfit? Was I not supposed to tuck in the blouse?”

  Jessica’s gaze moved from her outfit to her face, and she wrinkled her brow. “Uhm nothing’s wrong, besides the mom jeans, nineties worthy top and the tarantulas on your eyelids.”

  Izzy looked down again. This time noticing how the high-waisted fit of the jean made her look extra curvy and how much the canary poet’s shirt reminded her of one she’d had in eighth grade. Not to mention she could feel her eyelashes every time she blinked.

  She inhaled trying to take a deep breath around the blooming anxiety, but her lungs refused and constricted. “I’m doomed.”

  Jessica rolled her eyes. “No, you’re not doomed. It’s fixable. How much time do we have?”

  Taking a glance at the clock, Izzy let out a moan of dread. “We have thirty minutes.” Then staring at the mom jeans again, she felt the panicky increase of her heart rate. “I’m useless. Maybe I can still cancel.”

  That statement earned her a derisive look from Jessica. “Are you insane, Boss Lady? There is a hotter than hot, sexy man on his way here to spend time with you. This is the first real date you’ve had in months.”

  Izzy was quick to correct her. “No. This is not a date. If it is, this is the first date I’ve ever had with three chaperones. Nick invited him over. This is not a date. Period. End of story.” She wrinkled her brows. “Besides, I go on dates with Simon.”

  Jessica rummaged through the closet and tossed a pair of jeans at her. “Right, right, Simon. Please see earlier comment about real date.” Next came a white puff-sleeved top and chunky gold lamé belt. As a finale, gold ballet flats followed. “The shirt is fine if you have a sleek pencil skirt. But not today. Those jeans are the curse of curvy women everywhere, only made for runway models that double as coat hangers.”

  She changed into Jessica’s ensemble suddenly feeling more comfortable, more like herself. “I don’t know what possessed me to even buy those pants.”

  Jessica sat her down and pulled out the makeup remover. “You didn’t buy them remember? The photo spread for that designer? Those were a gift.”

  “Later, remind me to kick that gift horse in the kisser.”

  “What in the world did you do to your eyes? I can barely get this stuff off.”

  “Never been an expert with makeup. Sorry. At seventeen, my focus was always tennis, then books. Never my looks.”

  “C’mon, I’ve met your mother. Cici is a cosmetic line’s dream. She didn’t get you into it?”

  Izzy shrugged. She wished. But she’d been under her father’s tutelage, not her mother’s. “Dad always said it was better to be strong and smart than pretty. Makeup and sexy girly clothes weren’t allowed in the Major’s house.”

  Jessica snorted. “Sounds like a swell guy. He and I would have gotten along like gang busters. I’m sure your mom made sure there were at least some boys. Nice, nerdy, pencil pusher types.” She waggled her eyebrows.

  Izzy laughed. “Not that I could have held their interest. Dark skinned, jock, book worms were hardly the rage back in North Carolina. I chose University of Southern California over the University of North Carolina just to escape the dictatorship.”

  Jessica wielded the blusher brush and dusted her cheeks. “Sixteen is awful early to go to college across the country all by your lonesome. I’m surprised you didn’t become a wild child. Lord knows I would have.” She paused and considered. “Never mind, I was born a wild child.”

  Izzy laughed. “You’d think, but the Major and Mom moved to San Diego to be closer to me, so no freedom for the inner wild child. And then after I stopped playing tennis, there was Nick. Save the occasional big night out, and even then I stuck to lip-gloss.”

  “Well, if there was ever an occasion. You can say this isn’t a date all you want, but I know chemistry when I see it. The way he looked at you at the shoot, I sense unfinished business.”

  Izzy shook her head after several strokes with the hair brush. Jessica snatched the brush from her hand. “If you’re about to put that gorgeous hair into a ponytail or pig tails, you might as well let me do that after I’m done with your face. She dabbed lip-gloss onto Izzy’s lips, then smiled. “Perfect.”

  Izzy stared in the mirror. She looked—great. Pretty even. Trendy, but not like she’d tried too hard. She didn’t even know what to say about the makeup. She looked like herself, only—more. “Jessica, I don’t know what to say. I look, I look… Damn, I look fantastic.” Pinpricks behind her eyelids warned her of the impending tears.

  “We’re not done yet. We still have to take care of your hair. While I fix it, tell me about Mr. Hottie McCartwright.”

  Jessica brushed, then teased and added the odd bobby pin or two. Izzy sat in front of the vanity and let Jessica work her magic. “There’s nothing to tell really. We went to college together. He used to date Sabrina.”

  Jessica halted the brush, mid-stroke. “You lie.” Shaking her head, she added, “Let him go, Girl. This one is tainted.”

  Izzy chewed her lip. “Yeah, tell me about it.” She took a deep breath before adding, “I was the youngest on the team when I arrived all fresh-faced and not yet legal. Coach assigned Sabrina as a big sister to make sure I adjusted well.” Fat lot of good that did me.

  “College early, and you made the team? You must have been really good to play for USC.”

  Izzy laughed without mirth. Her tennis life was a long and distant memory. “Well, it’s been a long time since I played. Besides, the Major wouldn’t have it any other way. Anyway, Jason used to pay me a lot of attention, trying to be nice to the new kid, I guess. I, like the idiot I was, had a huge crush and mistook the attention he paid me as—more.” Izzy let her voice trail off before she continued. “We were all close until he started to date Sabrina. She didn’t like him spending so much time with me, so he stayed clear.”

  Jessica applied bobby pins to Izzy’s hair. “The curse of Sabrina.”

  Izzy sighed. “Yeah, the curse all right. Sabrina was volatil
e, free spirited, temperamental. They were off and on a ton. Finally, when she broke up with him, she encouraged me to go out with him—as if I’d want her cast offs. She was obsessed with the fact that I’d never had a boyfriend.”

  “What? No!”

  Izzy nodded. “Yes. She knew about my crush. I think she thought it would be funny.”

  Jessica scowled, suddenly rougher with her brush strokes. “Oh, hell no.”

  Izzy winced but kept her mouth shut. She knew better than to complain. “One night, after their break up, Jason came to see me to talk.” Izzy ignored the flutter of her stomach. “We kissed.”

  Jessica whooped her delight. “Tell me, tell me, is he as good as he looks?”

  Izzy cleared her throat, more aware of the heated thrum of her heartbeat. “Yes, he’s good. But we didn’t get very far. He stopped us.”

  “What? Oh, no.” Disappointment written all over her face, she asked, “Why?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I think he was freaked out because I was so young and naïve. I’d also had a little to drink… make that a lot.”

  Jessica looked contemplative. “Ah, liquid courage. If you held your liquor then, half as well as you hold it now, it was really noble of him.”

  Noble, yes, but it didn’t lessen her humiliation. “He held me for a bit, told me not to worry about it. But Sabrina called him with some emergency or another and he ran off.”

  Jessica’s brow furrowed and she dropped the brush. “Wait, he left you to go after her?”

  Izzy nodded. “Like a moron, I waited for him for five hours. As far as I know, he left for his first national tour the next day. I’ve only seen him on TV since.”

  “Hmmm. So this whole situation is either kismet or a tornado in a crowded city.”

  “You got it. We just need to stay civil long enough—”

  Star Wars music interrupted her, and her stomach took a long slow roll through a bed of thorns. He’s calling to cancel.

  Jessica handed her the phone frowning at the display. She grabbed the phone willing it not to be Jason. Please don’t be him, please, please, please.

  “Hello?”

  “Izzy? It’s Jason.”

  The warm timber of his voice washed over her and raised the hair on her arms. There was still the possibility, still hope.

  “Listen, I am so sorry, and I hate to do this, but the paparazzi have swamped my car. The cops are here trying to break up the mess. It’s impossible to get out of here. I’d still come, but I would bet money they’ll follow me, and you don’t want to deal with that kind of mess. Can I get a rain check?”

  The paparazzi? Was he serious? His voice, his tone, transported her fifteen years. But this time, it wasn’t just her Jason let down. Helpless to stop it, she felt the quickening of her heart rate, the tight quick swallowing of her breaths, the tension roll onto her shoulders. She didn’t mean to shout, she told herself. Didn’t mean to spit venom with every word. Didn’t mean to lose her temper. Bad things happened when she lost her temper.

  “You selfish, selfish, selfish son of a bastard’s left nut. I told you. I told you not to do this. You never should have accepted the fucking invitation. He’s a kid that worships you. Jason, you can’t spend your whole life as the devil may care Golden Boy and not give a shit about who you hurt. Your word has to mean something, you fucking prick.”

  “I’m sorry. I tried. Don’t overreact. I promise I’ll make it up to him, you, both of you. I’ll smooth it over. I just—”

  He hadn’t changed in all these years. Still focused on himself alone. As hot rage transformed into icy ire, she said, “Don’t overreact? That’s my kid. You know what? Don’t. I’ll deal with the aftermath. I always do. You just continue on being you. Go deal with the paparazzi. I’ll handle Nick.” She didn’t give him an opportunity to respond before she hung up. Nothing had changed. He was still the same old Jason.

  Her hands trembled she stared down at the phone. Jessica whistled, then rescued the phone from her clutches. “You know, in the four years I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you lose your temper.”

  Fifteen years was a long time. Fifteen years hadn’t changed her. Fifteen years hadn’t brought forgiveness. Emotion rolled through her body, the thick, wet disappointment and fury.

  Chapter Eleven

  “You’re only his foster mother, you have no rights.”

  Izzy bit her lip as she tried to blink away the tear on her lower right lid. “How can you say that to me? I’ve been his foster mother for over ten years, surely that must give me some rights.”

  The frown lines on Judge Robertson’s brow deepened. “Miss Connors, by law you don’t have any. If Miss Reems comes home, can prove she’s clean, and remains so, it’s best for the child that we place him with her. The idea is to keep families together as often as possible. You know this.”

  Izzy clenched and unclenched her fists. “I’m his family. I’m the only consistent family he has. His own grandparents didn’t want him. His mother threw away her chance. Staying with me is what’s best for him.”

  “I understand you’re upset, but do I need to remind you about the guardianship agreement you signed? Until you can get the mother to sign away parental rights, you cannot adopt the boy.” He sat back in his chair, voice softening. “Look, Izzy, if the mother continues to show she’s unfit, he’ll stay with you. Moreover, she’s proved unfit on more than one occasion. You might not have to worry.”

  “But there’s no hope for adoption.”

  “You know the terms of adopting him. I’m sorry, but you and Ms. Reems are going to need to come to some sort of agreement.”

  ****

  Where the hell was he supposed to hide his sick fascination? Clutching his magazines, Jason moved with swift efficiency and tried to find the best hidey-hole for his stack of tabloids. The design team from Sports Illustrated rearranged his place for the shoot and removed every trace of the unsightly—all except for his dirty stash.

  His heart rate kicked into a higher gear when he spied the production van in the drive. Izzy was here. He threw the magazines into the closet before he opened the door for the diminutive Production Assistant. He told himself he wasn’t nervous about Izzy being in his home. She was like every other press person that had ever been allowed inside his sanctuary. Except she’s not another press person. She’s Izzy.

  His ears wouldn’t soon forget her choice words to him. At the time, he’d felt like shit, but what was he supposed to do? The Paps had been all over him, and he hadn’t been able to leave. When he had finally been able to break free, they’d followed him for miles. It was the reality of his life, and he didn’t want to bring that on her. He’d done it for her. You did it for yourself. He needed to do everything he could today to make amends.

  He should have gone, paparazzi or not. But no, he’d taken the easier route out, and now she’d make him pay for it. Was she right about him? Had he spent most of his life taking the easy way out, assuming he could get away with anything just because he was Jason Fucking Cartwright?

  The more he thought about disappointing Nick, the worse he felt. Nothing like having it pointed out he’d disappointed a child to make him feel like the world’s biggest dirt bag. And not just any kid, her kid, his biggest fan. How could he honestly think it wouldn’t be a big deal?

  He glanced around at the crowd of people in his living room and kitchen. No Izzy. Like a fool, he searched for her in the clown car of a van in his driveway. Pathetic. “You’re an idiot.” He muttered to himself and shoved away from the front windows to get dressed.

  He dressed in the stylist-provided outfit and went into the dining room where the hair and makeup people convened. The dining room was on the opposite end of the house so he didn’t hear her come in, but he felt her. His nerves were on edge, and the short hairs on his neck stood at attention. The air changed the moment she walked into the room.

  She took one look at him and nodded a hello, but didn’t say anything. Addressing the
makeup artist, she asked, “How long before he’s ready?”

  The woman with the makeup sponge in her hand waved. “About ten minutes. He’s got a natural tan, so there’s not much to do.”

  Izzy nodded and made her way out the back door toward the tennis court. He watched her as she went and tried to read her. She didn’t give any indication of anger. She was a professional, so he hadn’t anticipated her to lay into him. But, he had expected her to say something. Anything.

  He looked around for Nick with the hope to apologize, but there was no sign of him anywhere. He recognized the disappointment for what it was and bit back a curse. His plan was to apologize to Nick and maybe get back in his good graces. The other night was supposed to be the most normal night he’d spent in months, and it had been ruined by the arrival of the paparazzi. How had the paparazzi known he’d be there?

  Jason gritted his teeth, and Madeline, the makeup artist, paused her ministrations. “Something wrong?”

  He forced himself to relax. “Just anxious to get on with it.”

  She gave him a brilliant smile that told him if he’d be up for it, so would she. “We’re almost done here.”

  She was sweet and had a body molded with curves designed to get men into trouble. Two weeks ago, he’d have taken her up on the silent offer and not thought twice. But not today. Even before Izzy, he’d started on the road to being a decent person, and he didn’t intend to go back.

  Once he was ready, he went out to the courts. A PA ran over to hand him one of his rackets. Wrapping his hand around the familiar grip, he felt on even ground. He was made to play.

  Izzy strode over to him. For a moment he remembered her as she once was, in her tennis whites, long, chocolate colored legs devouring pavement as she ran down every ball. He smiled at her, and she faltered for the briefest instant before continuing toward him.

  All business, the first words she spoke to him were related to the shot. “Okay, this will be a little different from last time. The light will change on us, I think there might be some rain this afternoon, so we’ll try and get all our shots this morning.”