by Amanda Gray
At the fifth hole, the Champion’s water hazards became the concern. With basically nothing but water between the tee and green on this short par 3, Kat’s shot had to clear the pond and land near the pin. An easy birdie if you didn’t end up in the drink. A 120-yard chip with a 4 iron got her there without incident, and a crafty putt yielded the bird. Her growing group of followers applauded heartily.
As usual, the play on hole 9 was to the clubhouse where Kat’s team would take a short break. She exhaled a sigh of relief as her ball settled into the hole, giving her a 2-under stroke count for the front 9. They headed to the clubhouse, but their route was partially blocked by a sea of people and vehicles.
“It’s Chalmers,” Percy grunted in disgust, pointing ahead into the crowd. “He hasn’t even teed off yet.”
Sure enough, Kat spotted Dick’s red-brown hair as he turned his head left and right, chatting with the media crew, all smiles and swagger. “Prick,” she grumbled, following Percy as he blazed a trail to the VIP lounge inside. Soft drinks and sandwiches waited for them at the bar. Kat reached for a bottle of water, gazing out the windows in annoyance at the crowd still surrounding Chalmers. “I’m going to the ladies room,” she said as she turned away in search of the facilities. She was sweaty and not a little perturbed at seeing her adversary. Out of sight, out of mind would have suited her best today.
She lifted her braid of hair off her neck and pinned it up, allowing the air-conditioned atmosphere in the restroom to cool her skin. Some cold water on her face revived her a little, and she adjusted the band on her visor to hold the twist of braid in place. Better, she thought, taking a quick glance in the mirror. Funny. Appearances hadn’t been important to her on the course before today.
Her stomach rumbled, and remembered the sandwiches laid out in the lounge. She swung the heavy door open and stepped quickly into the hallway. Before she could even look up, a tall body crashed into her, knocking her off-balance. A strong hand grabbed her shoulder.
“Watch out, Kit-Kat.”
No. Not here, not now. Her cheeks burned as she heard his voice, looked up into a pair of taunting green eyes. Dick the Prick seemed to be everywhere in her life, even in the bloody bathroom! “Sorry,” she mumbled. “Excuse me.”
They switched places as he guided her body in the direction of the lounge before releasing his grip on her. “I hear you did well on the front 9,” he said. “But watch out behind you.”
Kat squared her shoulders and looked him up and down. “Worry about your own behind, Dick. Leave mine alone.”
He stared back at her with a look that sent tremors up her spine. “Oh, I wish I could, sweetheart. But I don’t think I’ll be able to. Your behind is very nice.”
She took a step backward. His voice flowed low and smooth like chocolate glaze over ice cream, very unlike the timbre he used while in public. A storybook image of Big Bad Wolf popped into her head. Don’t listen Red Riding Hood, just run.
Another step backward and she pivoted away from him, striding quickly toward the lounge and safety. Did he just threaten me? Or did his comment intend something even more dangerous? She looked around for Percy, her mind racing and both her nerves and hormones jumping. She didn’t need this distraction, not in the middle of competition. Her future depended on winning this tournament and damn it, neither Dick Chalmers’ fame nor sexy bedroom voice was going to take it away from her.
Chapter Four
So far, the strategy was working. Kat Halliday seemed nervous as a cat, pun intended, walking a tightrope. Dick took his time on the course, knowing he could catch up to her at any time if he wanted to, but kept a leisurely pace on purpose. His intel from Kat’s group told him everything he needed to know; how many strokes, what hazards seemed to give her the most trouble. He matched her score stroke for stroke, keeping in mind her handicap and credits. Best to keep things interesting until the end—tomorrow’s round had yet to come.
Unbidden, Frank’s words echoed in Dick’s head. “Don’t do this. Find another way.” He didn’t make a habit of stealing candy from babes, as Frank had also phrased it, but 100 grand would bail him out of his debts, and cover at least a portion of his divorce settlement. His career was winding down, and he preferred to go out with a bang, before he became an embarrassment by stretching out his glory days too long. Miss Kit-Kat had plenty of chances left ahead of her.
Kit-Kat, he smirked. The name of a candy bar. He imagined Kat’s sizeable and sumptuous rump made out of chocolate, and taking a bite out of it. He shook the idea from his mind, as that sentiment would not help him in the least. He teed up his ball on the 16th and prepared to enter the famous “Bear Trap.” The next three holes had claimed the egos of many players. Ahead of him, the dogleg through the narrows between two ponds the size of fishing lakes made the best golfers quiver in their cleats.
His caddy moved toward him and whispered in his ear. Halliday had finished the round at +1. Dick nodded and took his stance on the teebox. He could manage a +1.
*
“Well, it appears you’re tied with Chalmers,” Percy stated as he and Katelyn sat in the VIP lounge. She insisted on sticking around to see Dick finish. The live coverage ran on closed circuit inside the lounge, and already knew Percy was right. Uncanny that Dick the Prick seemed to take almost exactly the same approach on each hole as she’d done. She wasn’t certain if she felt flattered or insulted. But she couldn’t take her eyes off the screen as she watched the man move as graceful as a mountain lion over the course.
His swing was a thing of beauty; she got the feeling he held back on some of his drives. The power he exhibited was capable of much more, she knew it. As the camera followed him, she saw the public Dick Chalmers, the one history knew, the one-time media darling of the links. His ease among the huge group of onlookers, his still-trim athletic body, the outrageously captivating smiles he cast about like flowers. Damn. The guy was charismatic, no question. She struggled to remember he was a no-good, conniving shithead, the kind of guy you loved to hate.
*
The next day dawned cool and gray. Rain was expected to fall from overcast skies throughout the day. Not ideal golf weather, but Kat hoped it would clear just long enough for her tee-off at 10:00 am. Until then she monitored the closed circuit footage and watched Chalmers tee off in the early morning drizzle. He birdied each of the first four holes, but Percy came to collect her before she could see any more.
“Let’s hit it, Golden Girl.”
The greens were slow and wet, but the moist earth meant the balls had very little roll to them once they hit the ground, minimizing the chances of slipping into the bunkers. Kat and her group slogged through the front nine, pulling out a par on every hole except five, where miraculously she shot her first hole-in-one. Percy kept her up to date on Chalmers status, and she grinned in spite of the rain at hearing he’d lost a ball on the 8th. Apparently it took a bad bounce on the far side of the creek that separated the green from the rest of the fairway and danced into the water.
It was still anyone’s contest as they headed for the clubhouse before starting the treacherous back 9, where the Bear Trap waited to snare anyone who dared challenge it. As they approached the building for a welcome respite to the soggyday, Dick’s entourage emerged from the entrance doors.
“He certainly took his time,” Percy grunted as they neared Chalmers’ party. “Why are they still here?”
The cameras swung toward them as Dick called out to her. “Miss Halliday! How good to see you. Hope you had better luck than I did on the front 9. I’m afraid we had a bit of misfortune and were just drowning our sorrows in the lounge. Can I buy you a drink?”
Kat slowed her steps, determined not to rise to his bait. Chad Weldon made his way forward, microphone in hand.
“Smile,” whispered Percy.
“Kat! Kat Halliday,” Chad called to her. “A difficult day on the links for both competitors. Congratulations for an amazing hole in one, Katelyn. How do you feel going into
the last stretch of the competition?” He shoved the mike to her face.
Damn him for putting her on the spot. She felt sure Dick had waited around on purpose, just to unnerve her further with undue media attention. Kat raised her head, speaking to Chad but fixing her icy glare on Chalmers. “A little chilly, Chad; I think I could use that drink about now, since Dick is buying.”
The crowd bubbled with laughter, and moved aside as she continued up the steps to the clubhouse. She reached the top step and stood face to face with Dick. “Well?” she asked, tilting her head to one side.
He looked a bit surprised, but definitely intrigued by her acceptance of his offer. His signature grin blossomed beneath the brim of his personal-label ballcap. He swept an open arm toward the doors in invitation. Kat brushed past him and a swarm of bodies followed in her wake.
She sensed Dick’s presence close behind as she reached the bar. As he docked beside her, a waft of outdoor freshness mingled with expensive cologne reached her nostrils, forming a tantalizing aroma. If he weren’t who he was, if they weren’t trapped in this battle of wills and dollar signs, she might actually enjoy this moment.
He removed his hat, setting free his thick locks of red-brown hair with its shocks of silver. She wanted to touch it, ruffle it till it stuck out in schoolboy tufts. Thoroughly embarrass him. He deserved it.
“What’ll you have?” he asked, turning the full force of his emerald gaze on her. Did she smell scotch on his breath? Fantastic…he was compromised already.
“Hot chocolate,” she said, feeling smug. His eyes seemed to soften, acknowledging her resolve but registering disappointment at the same time.
“Hot chocolate,” Dick repeated to the server who stood at attention looking back and forth between them. “Nothing for me, thanks.”
“Nothing?” Kat asked. “By all means, have another scotch. Don’t let me cramp your style.”
“I’ll pass,” he said. “I take it you don’t care for my style.”
“I’m wearing your clothes, what more do you want?”
He worked his jaw a bit, as though weighing several options before answering. “If I told you what I really want at this moment,” he said, leaning closer and lowering his voice to that dangerously sexy tone she’d heard before, “you’d run screaming for your mother.”
Her hot chocolate arrived just in time for Kat to clamp her shaking hands around the warm cup. Somehow she couldn’t find the strength to raise it to her lips. “Would I?” she said, answering with a calmness she did not feel. “I guess you’ll never know.” She forced herself to look away, pausing to take a sip of the sweet, hot liquid before her, letting the tension build between them. After a long moment, Dick pushed himself away from the bar.
“Excuse me,” he said. “Nature calls. Best of luck, Miss Halliday.” He replaced his hat and sauntered down the hall to the restrooms.
Miss Halliday? Aha! He could dish it out, but not take it. She hoped she’d rattled him at least a little, but found herself the one trembling at his suggestive words. She flushed inwardly at the realization that what he might want to do to her was exactly what she might want, too.
Chapter Five
They stayed in the clubhouse long enough for Chalmers’ group to get a few holes ahead of them. It was critical to keep tabs on his score for the rest of the round so that Kat could choose her shots to meet or beat him. By the time Dick finished the 15th, he was nearly five strokes under. Apparently he was done toying with her and playing for real, now, Kat thought, disheartened. Her attempt to bait him in the clubhouse had backfired. The wet conditions made the course less forgiving, and it looked as though even catching him now, never mind besting him, was a distant hope.
But the Bear Trap awaited them both.
As she and her entourage trudged toward the dreaded trio of holes, Percy tried to encourage her. “You can do this, Kat; but you’ll need to play the risky shots, over the water.”
The 16th with its narrow dogleg gave only two choices, both of them difficult. Kat took Percy’s advice, placing her drive to land near the first bunker on the right. From there, a controlled chip of about 90 yards over the water would make the green. She had to try. Focusing on the pin, she visualized the weight of her swing, the ball landing on the uphill side of the green, and took her shot. She kept her head down and closed her eyes, her body frozen in her follow-through stance, her breathing suspended.
A rumble of applause and hoots of joy snapped her to attention. “Goooood ball,” she heard Percy swear. She looked up to see the little white sphere sitting only inches from the hole. She’d done it…a simple tap-in and she’d have her first birdie of the day…on one of the most difficult holes on the Champion!
Amid cheers and smiles, the group moved on to the next hole. Though a mere 112 yards, the 17th featured an expanse of water that left no alternative to play around it. You committed to your shot and let the devil take the hindmost. Percy motioned with his chin as he brought her clubs. “Dick bogeyed this hole,” he whispered. “You can still catch him.”
Kat took a deep breath and nodded. The damp was settling into her bones, and a sheltered pavilion with canvas tent flaps set up between the final two holes offered some warmth. “Give me a few minutes,” she said. A quick coffee or tea might steel her nerves and allow a moment of mental preparation, but doubted it would be enough. Dick the Prick had the edge now, damn him. What was his motivation in winning this tournament? Why wouldn’t he just back off? He already stole the media spotlight, why did he have to steal her chance at the winnings as well?
She found a spot in a corner of the pavilion partitioned off for VIPs, away from the general public. The brisk air combined with the steaming cup of tea made her nose begin to run, but the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes were caused by something else. She sniffed loudly, and as usual, had forgotten to bring tissues.
“Kit-Kat.”
Shit. There seemed to be no escaping the man. Why wasn’t he already running his victory lap around the clubhouse? He should have putted out on 18 a half-hour ago. Kat sighed and looked up despite her watery eyes.
Chalmers stood there, holding out a handkerchief. Who carried a handkerchief in this day and age? Without his flurry of followers around him, the arrogant bravado seemed absent. Something approaching concern radiated from his rugged, tanned face. Feeling a dribble about to leak from her right nostril, she set down her cup to take the proffered handkerchief and blow her nose in it.
“What are you doing here,” she said dully, her voice congested. “Come to brag about your big finish in person, put me out of my misery?” She wiped the underside of her nose and held out the used handkerchief to return it. He waved his hand in decline.
“I haven’t teed off yet. Taking a break, just like you. 18th tee is just on the other side of this pavilion.”
“Oh, so you’re just prolonging my misery,” she concluded, stuffing the hankie in her jacket pocket. “Classy.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Tell me, Dick. Why are you here? Does it give you pleasure to defeat a poor starving college student?”
He moved closer. “I take no pleasure in your defeat. We both have our reasons to want to win.”
“Like a gold-digging ex-wife, perhaps?”
He stiffened. “Maybe. What’s your excuse? Little rich girl must have a fat scholarship paving her way.”
Okay. Cards on the table. “I’m no rich girl. My mom and dad sacrificed a lot to get me here. My trust fund was embezzled by a crooked broker. I won’t be able to stay at Keiser if I don’t win this thing. Happy?” She glared at him, almost wanting him to feel sorry for her, take her in those tanned muscular arms he had on display, kiss her until she felt drunk and forget all about money, or winning, or losing, then slap his face in revenge.
A flash of anger ignited behind his cool, crystal-green eyes. “Like I said, we both have our reasons. I take no pleasure in winning this.” He moved closer still, his nearness radiating a masculine power that threatened t
o overwhelm her. Kat found it difficult to breathe. “But you’ve got to pay your dues to make it in this game. You think it’s going to be easy, don’t you? You need a lesson in hard knocks, and it would be my pleasure to teach you, Kit-Kat.”
His hand snaked behind her back and slid down to cup her butt cheek. He pulled her into his chest, her fluttering heart pulsing against him. “What are you doing…” Her indignance was swallowed by his kiss, his lips rough but warm. Panic rose in her throat, frightened by his boldness but electrified by the sensations of his mouth on hers and his hands, both of them, squeezing her ass and pressing her whole body into him.
Only layers of canvas separated them from the throngs of people outside. The forbidden mystique of the moment excited her, evaporating away her inhibitions as well as her fear. She returned his kiss with fervor, her tongue venturing out and exploring his hot mouth with an authority she didn’t realize she possessed. He ground her body against his, his hardening cock rubbing insistently on her belly. It felt so wrong—and so right.
“Is this what you want to teach me,” she whispered between kisses, her lips sliding across his in the warm wetness of their mingling saliva.
“Hell no,” he said, eagerly accepting each hungry touch of her mouth. “I think you’re teaching me, my little Kat—but you’re more of a tiger, aren’t you?” He grabbed her ample ass cheeks and jiggled them up and down. “I’ve wanted to get my hands on these for quite some time,” he chuckled, then swatted her left cheek, hard. The smack of his hand on her backside resounded in the still air.
Kat’s private muscles sizzled with the impact, sending a burn up from her crotch to spread across her abdomen. She never knew spanking could be so sexually arousing. Her eyes shot open, seeing an expression of dark lust on his face that said he was pleased with her reaction and had much more planned for her than a simple pat on the bum.