Crossing the Line

by Nicola Marsh

  Laying it all on the line for love…

  Mia Cresswell is tired of being good.

  Achieving geek status at college doesn’t equate with fun. So when she heads home to her dad’s tennis academy in Santa Monica on spring break, she’s determined to be bad. And hot Aussie tennis star Kye Sheldon is just the guy to help her do it.

  However, Kye’s troubled past continues to dog him and attending the Cresswell Tennis Academy is his last chance at the big time. He can’t afford to screw up…by screwing the boss’s daughter.

  But Mia and Kye’s relationship is much more than a vacation fling.

  Will it be game, set, match, when the truth is revealed?

  Or will Mia and Kye have a real shot at love all?

  CROSSING THE LINE

  By

  Nicola Marsh

  Copyright © Nicola Marsh 2014

  Published by Nicola Marsh 2014

  All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They’re not distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author and all the incidents in the book are pure invention.

  All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in any form. The text or any part of the publication may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form without the written permission of the publisher.

  The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the word marks mentioned in this work of fiction.

  Author’s note

  ~

  In this story, Kye Sheldon is Australian.

  Here’s clarification of the ‘Aussie-isms’ Kye uses:

  Pansy-arsed – lame

  arse – ass

  coldie – beer

  soft drink – soda

  piss-poor – weak

  holiday – vacation

  windscreen – windshield

  trannies – transvestites

  mobile – cell phone

  soft-cock – pathetic

  fortnight – two weeks

  belly-up – wrecked

  dropkicked – hurt

  fairy floss – cotton candy

  pansy – feminine

  Discover other titles by USA TODAY bestselling author Nicola Marsh at

  http://www.nicolamarsh.com

  Recent titles by Nicola Marsh:

  Before

  Brash

  Blush

  Crazy Love

  Lucky Love

  The Second Chance Guy

  Banish (YA)

  Scion of the Sun (YA)

  Wicked Heat

  Wanton Heat

  Not the Marrying Kind

  Busted in Bollywood

  Chapter 1

  MIA

  "You should do him." My BFF Dani pointed to a six-four dork in a custom-made suit sucking up to my dad next to the trophy cabinet. "Big hands. Big feet."

  I rolled my eyes. "You don't actually believe that crap, do you?"

  Dani sniggered. "Considering the amount of first hand research I've done, I think I'm a fairly good judge."

  I hated how Dani did that, perpetuating the slut label she'd copped at high school. Dani liked to date. A lot. That didn't equate to sleeping around. But the fact she was blonde, gorgeous and had a great rack meant jealous girls had been happy to spread rumors. What made me madder? Rather than defend herself, she played up to it.

  "Why do you still do that when we left high school three years ago?"

  She ignored my question and tapped my nose. "Almost forgot. Big nose equals big dick too."

  As usual, I didn't push her on an issue she knew bugged the hell out of me. I swatted away her finger. "He's not my type."

  "Is anyone your type?” She grabbed two champagne flutes from a passing waiter and handed me one. “You've been here an hour and I haven't seen you scope out a single guy."

  No great surprise. I returned home to my dad's place, the legendary Cresswell Tennis Academy in Santa Monica, every spring break, and not once had I found a guy remotely 'scope-worthy’. Egotistical sport junkies weren't my thing.

  "That's because I'm so damn happy to see you again." I slid my arm around her waist and hugged tight. "I've missed you, sweetie."

  "You're such a sap," she said, returning my semi-hug before easing away to down her champagne. "Let's get drunk and pick up the cutest guys here for a night of raunchy fun."

  Another thing that pissed me off about Dani. We hadn't seen each other since last spring break, and our first night together she'd rather hook up with some anonymous guy than hang out with me.

  I would've preferred to stay in tonight, watching corny old DVDs and eating ice cream from the tub while we caught up on gossip. Instead, Dani had arrived at my villa an hour ago, demanding I attend this lame party my dad was throwing for the new academy peeps.

  I hated my dad's parties at the academy. Wall to wall tennis jocks whose egos matched their oversized racket collection, my dad's boring friends, and the general hangers-on who thought my dad walked on water because he'd won a record number of Grand Slams. Minimal food, maximum alcohol and requisite fake schmoozing. Country club exclusivity with an overload of testosterone.

  But I couldn't say no to Dani. She was the only thing I missed about Santa Monica—discounting Dad—and we could hang out at some boring party for a while before doing our catch up over a Cookies'n'Cream tub later.

  "That's an oxymoron. Cute guys here and raunchy fun." I glanced around, not seeing a single guy I'd give my phone number to let alone allow to touch me.

  Dani’s wide-eyed fake innocence didn’t fool me for a second. "You sure you're not still a virgin?"

  I snorted. "You know I lost my virginity to Andy in high school."

  I hadn't told her about the only other time I'd had sex, with one of my friends at DU. And that had only been in the last few months. Pitiful, considering I'd been at the University of Denver for the last few years.

  "That pencil dick? Time to find yourself a real man."

  I stifled a giggle at Dani's accurate assessment of Andy's appendage. "How did you know he was a pencil dick?"

  Dani rolled her eyes. "Babe, I could tell you the size, girth and prowess of every dickwad's cock at Dumbass High."

  And there she went again, pissing me off. I knew for a fact she didn't sleep around that much back then. Now? I wouldn't know. Sure, Dani was her usual joking self when we Skyped weekly and emailed a few times a month, but the truth was I had no idea what my best friend did with her spare time these days. And by her account, there was a lot of that.

  Dani lived off her trust fund. She didn't work. She didn't do charity. And she didn't let me into her life anymore. Not like she used to.

  Everything changed when she backed out of college before we were due to start. She never told me why. Gave some lame-ass excuse about not being interested in going it alone when she had her family's money to live off. Which I didn't believe for a second, considering Dani was the most independent person I knew and couldn't wait to join me at DU.

  But I hadn't pushed because my BFF had looked seriously fragile at the time, like a Santa Ana wind could blow her over with the faintest gust. The flu, she'd said. I'd been terrified it had been something more serious. So I gave her the space she'd requested to get her shit together and when she finally Skyped me three months later, the old Dani was back. Irreverent. Brash. Irrepressible.

  I elbowed her. "If you slept with half the guys you say you have, you wouldn't be able to walk."

  "Practice makes perfect." She winked and did a fair imitation of a wide-stance cowboy swagger.

  I laughed and shook my head. "I've missed you."

  "Same here, babe."
She slung an arm around my shoulder. "But here's the deal. If you don't bag the hottest guy here tonight, I'm going to sign you up with every online dating site in Cali. And I'll use that pic of you with the mud mask that looked like you had shit smeared all over your face."

  "Is that the best you can do?" My snooty glare failed when I chuckled.

  She tapped her bottom lip, pretending to think. "If that doesn't do the trick, maybe I'll get my mom to tell your dad you're lonely and would appreciate a fix-up with one of his tennis protégés—"

  "You wouldn't dare." Dani's mom was a shameless Hollywood socialite who made meddling in people's lives an art form. As for my dad, I'd already been subjected to his less than subtle matchmaking as a teenager, which is why Dani's threat held serious fear factor. If those two got together on my behalf? A nunnery would be the only place I could escape their machinations.

  Dani's grin was positively evil. "Try me."

  I crossed my arms and puffed out a huffy breath. "Fine. I'm going to find the guy least like a tennis jock and do him tonight."

  Translated: I'd walk up to him, beg him to play along with me long enough to get my trouble-making BFF off my case, then escape to my villa on the pretext I was spending the night with him.

  I'd deal with telling Dani the truth in the morning.

  "That's my girl." Dani tweaked my nose, grabbed my shoulders and twirled me in a slow three-sixty. "See anyone you fancy?"

  Yeah, Ryan Gosling on the DVD cover of his latest movie, but that was back in my villa and unless I played along I'd be stuck here with Dani doing this all night.

  Increasingly tired of Dani's never-ending need to hang out with a guy to make a party complete, I glanced around at the requisite tennis jocks in immaculate sports jackets, chinos and polo shirts. They chugged bottles of water, trying to make a good impression on my dad, the coaches and the rest of the academy crew. A few had potential in the looks department but they'd be too scared of pissing off my dad to play along with my lame scheme. No way would they leave with me with my dad looking on, on the pretense of screwing me or not.

  And that's when I saw him.

  The perfect guy.

  Well, not the perfect guy, but the guy I knew could come through for me tonight.

  He stood in the far corner of the room, away from the crowd, partially hidden behind the pot-planted palms, strategically placed to offer some privacy for recalcitrant loners like him.

  He wore a scowl along with dark denim, a blue sports jacket and a tight white T that even at this distance outlined a muscular chest. Brown hair. Chiseled jaw. Sexy mouth. Eye-catchingly gorgeous, if he ever stopped glowering.

  "You found him?" Dani said, when she noticed I resisted further twirling.

  "Yeah." I jerked my head toward the corner. "Him."

  "Fuck," Dani murmured, staring at me with newfound admiration. "I like the way you think, babe. He's got sex god written all over him."

  "And soon I'll be all over him," I said, injecting enough fake bravado to sound believable while thinking 'I wish'.

  Because a small part of me did wish I had the guts to go after a guy like that. A guy who looked bad enough to help me break free of being good.

  Maybe I should amend my plan from getting him to pretend to hang out with me to flirting relentlessly so we hung out for real?

  How long since I'd had fun with a guy beyond study dates and coffee in the college cafeteria? My grades were good. My life was good. I was good. For once, I'd love to be bad.

  "Go." Dani shoved me in the guy's direction. "Report back in the morning."

  I wiggled my fingers in a saucy wave at Dani as I strode toward the guy, who'd just downed a soda in record time.

  By the time I was half way across the crowded room, I saw him duck out onto the terrace, which wouldn't be opened until later in the evening.

  So I did the only thing I could.

  Took a short cut to the terrace and crossed my fingers I could pull this off.

  Chapter 2

  KYE

  The second I stepped into the function room at the Cresswell Tennis Academy, I couldn't breathe. A stifling combination of designer perfume, overcooked shrimp and jock testosterone hung in the air like a miasmic cloud. The kind of scene I despised.

  I wanted to leave. Ditch this pansy-arse party and the pretentious stuffy tennis establishment, leave Santa Monica and head back to Sydney.

  But I couldn't. That's the thing about final chances. Screw this up and I was in deep shit.

  "Would you like a drink, Sir?"

  Sir? Seriously? Even the staff in this joint acted like they had a pole stuck ten-feet up their arse.

  I stared at the waiter, who looked roughly twenty-two like me, and automatically reached for a beer. A coldie would take the edge off.

  A coldie would also make me crave another, then another, to help me forget every godforsaken reason I was stuck in this hellhole for the foreseeable future.

  In the first wise decision I'd made in months, I chose a soft drink instead. I downed it in three gulps and set the glass on a nearby table. I should mingle. I should do a lot of things according to my dad: lose the temper and the attitude, don't waste my talent and don't screw up.

  Guess I should be grateful he hadn't disowned me after I'd busted that dweeb's nose back in Sydney. But even though we'd only known about each other for the last seven years, Dad stuck by me. He understood why I slugged the prick. No one got to call my mum a hooker, among other things, and get away with it.

  "Drink, Sir—"

  "No." I didn't want a frigging drink. I wanted to get the hell out of here. "Thanks," I said, softening my tone when the waitress stared at me with genuine fear.

  Looked like I was failing with the change of attitude already. Not wasting my talent? Remained to be seen.

  I could hit a ball around a court. Very well, according to the top coaches in Australia. The thing was, they didn't understand why I played tennis. Ironic, that the very attitude they wanted drummed out of me was what drove me to smash the shit out of that furry green ball.

  When I saw another waiter bearing down on me with a sushi platter, I headed for the nearest exit. A locked French door leading out onto a semi-dark terrace. Seclusion. Perfect.

  I flicked the lock and stepped out onto the slate tiled terrace that overlooked the pristine grass courts. Ten in total, with another ten clay and ten indoor surfaced behind the clubhouse. I couldn't fault the facilities here. The rest? Remained to be seen.

  I propped against the wall and stared at the first court, the one I'd toured earlier with Dirk Cresswell, the academy's CEO. Dirk may be legendary in American tennis circles, with his record Grand Slam wins and golden boy charm, but from the fifteen minutes he'd taken to show me around today, he seemed like a self-absorbed, pompous prick. Who I had to play nice with if I didn't want to be turfed out on my arse.

  "Hey."

  I turned toward the girl's voice as she stepped out of the shadows, not sure what annoyed me most. The intrusion or the way she sauntered toward me, all long legs and cocky smile.

  She was just my type: tall, sexy brunette with enough hip sway to make a guy wonder what made her so confident, and bedroom eyes that hinted at sin.

  Sadly, this devil had just landed in the City of Angels and sin was the last thing on my agenda.

  "I'm not in the mood for company," I said, expecting her to head back inside.

  She didn't falter as she strode toward me. "Too bad, because I needed some air and this terrace is big enough for the both of us."

  I could've left but there was something in the way she was staring at me that had me intrigued: like she wanted me but wouldn't have a clue what to do if she got me.

  "Mia." She stuck out her hand. "Pleased to meet you."

  "Kye." I reluctantly shook her hand. "Wish I could say the same."

  "You don't like girls?" She slid her hand out of mine, the insolent quirk of her lips making me want to do something I shouldn't. Like kiss the
smirk off her smart mouth.

  "Love women." I took a step back, staring at her feet and slowly sweeping upward in a deliberate perusal meant to make a point. I wanted to make her squirm. It backfired, as I noted red nail polish matching her towering shoes, slim ankles, long legs, tight black dress that ended mid-thigh and hugged her lean bod, and pert tits. The frigging dress had a front zipper that just begged to be undone. Beyond hot.

  By the time I reached her face, she was blushing.

  "So which am I?" She leaned forward, giving me a generous glimpse of cleavage. "Girl or woman?"

  If I were in the mood to flirt, Mia would've been perfect. I knew her type in a heartbeat. Good girl wanting to dabble. Her country club folks were probably inside sipping martinis and kissing arse. And Mia wanted to flirt with the jocks for a night, without the pressure of having to put out. I'd love to see how far I could push her, call her bluff. Instead, I had to drive her away before I did something stupid.

  I'd had these moods before. I was better off alone.

  "Honestly?"

  She nodded, so I gave it to her straight.

  "You're a college girl on spring break looking for a little down and dirty fun. Your folks probably drive a SUV, have dinner at the country club every night and play piss-poor tennis here weekly."

  I saw hurt flicker in her big, brown eyes. Good. The faster she left, the better. So I drove the boot in harder.

  "You want to slum it for a while, have a little holiday fun. String some poor dumb-arse tennis rookie along before giving him a severe case of blue-balls."

  I deliberately turned my back on her. "Maybe the Aussie accent fooled you into thinking I'm that dumb-arse? But sorry, kid, you're definitely a girl and I only fool around with women."

  I hated myself for treating someone I'd only just met like this. Mia whoever-she-was didn't deserve it, but the blackness was crowding in and I needed to escape.