Love. Set. Match.

  “That’s what I want you to look into,” Joey said, “or at least part of it. I’ve heard rumors that Emerson has been receiving threatening stalker-type letters. I want you to see if it’s true and look into a connection between the stalker and the leak.”

  A thousand feelings hit him faster than a ball machine, all of them more visceral than the next. Confusion came first, but fury and an inexplicable sense of betrayal followed quickly. Em hadn’t said a word about this. They’d talked for at least fifteen minutes last night when he got back to his hotel after his interview. How had she left out something like that?

  “Where’d you hear these rumors? I haven’t heard anything about this.” He struggled to keep his voice neutral.

  “I’ve got a source with the Miami PD that says they’ve been ordered to make more frequent patrols in the same neighborhoods as Emerson’s practice facility and her townhouse. They heard some whisperings, but they don’t know anything for sure. I want you to confirm the story so we can get an exclusive.”

  He bit his tongue. He had no intention of letting Joey run a story like this if it were true, but he couldn’t pass up this chance. “Okay. I’ll finish up here and head down to Miami day after tomorrow.”

  He let her rattle on a few minutes about travel arrangements before he finally got her off the phone.

  Fuck. He’d thought he and Em were in a good place, but he’d been right. She was keeping something from him—a big something. He thought friends told friends about stuff like this.

  Punching Em’s code name on his favorite contact’s list—Anne for the heroine of her favorite book—he listened to the phone ring through the rental’s Bluetooth.

  “Hi. You’ve reached Emerson Grace. I’m either on the court or too tired to look at my phone. Leave me a message, and I’ll get back to you when I can.”

  He bit back a bellow of frustration. “Em. It’s me. Just heard some interesting news about you, and I think we need to talk. Give me a call back.”

  That ought to get her attention, but it didn’t. He went through his day, finished up a meeting with his camera crew, and went back to his hotel, but still nothing from Em. Not even a text message acknowledging that she’d gotten his message. Worry warred with flat-out pissed off as he ordered room service and took a stinging-hot shower. Still, no call from Em. He tried her again and got sent straight to voicemail.

  Damn it. He glanced at his watch. It was only ten thirty on the east coast. She would normally be awake now, curled up in her bed while she read or watched one of the ten thousand TV shows she followed.

  She was avoiding him. The walls were going back up, higher than before, and he couldn’t let that happen. He needed to talk to her, to see for himself she was really okay.

  More than that, he needed to know they were okay. Losing the slimmest chance he had to finally have an answer to the what-ifs that stood between them was not an option. There was too much left unsaid, too much he wanted. If he lost her—even if it was just her friendship—it couldn’t be like this.

  Chapter 10

  “Any more letters?” Zoe asked as she watched Emerson practice her serves. Her practice partner, Yvonne, easily returned the serve, and Em let it fall off to one side.

  Emerson tossed the ball in the air and caught it, then bounced it a little. “One more yesterday. The police dusted for fingerprints and everything, but nothing came up that helped.”

  “What did it say?”

  Completing the serve, Em sighed. “I didn’t see it, but Detective Combs said it was mostly taunting me for keeping a low profile, calling me scared and shit like that. Nothing too crazy.”

  “We need to talk about what we’re going to do at the Qatar Open as far as security goes.” Zoe stood up and demonstrated a serve. “Try to angle yourself more like this.”

  Emerson followed her coach’s movements on the next two serves. She aimed the ball to hit on the edge of the service box, just out of reach of her opponent. “Do we have to? I really don’t want to make a big thing of this.”

  Zoe gave her a look, and Em immediately wanted to revert to her six-year-old self; the little girl who wanted to do anything to please this rock star of the tennis world so she’d stay and coach her still lurked under the surface. The tall, redheaded glam-azon had stepped in and was a mother to Em when she needed one most. Gran was great and had gone above and beyond to take care of her, but Zoe had really helped her become the woman she was. When Zoe got that no-nonsense look on her face, Emerson knew not to mess with her.

  “The Qatar Open is our chance to do a dry run before Indian Wells. I’ve talked to Amir and Detective Combs, and they agree that the letter writer probably won’t make it to Qatar. Indian Wells is another kettle of fish.” Zoe demonstrated another service technique. “It’ll be a lot easier to get to, and he or she won’t stand out in the crowd. We need to have a protocol in place to keep you safe.”

  Emerson went through the motions of a few more serves, hating that they had to have this conversation. The shit storm of the pictures was dying down, and the photographers had gotten bored with her. All she did was practice, visit her family, grocery shop, and stay in her house. That wasn’t much of a change from her normal routine. She’d always been focused on her practice. If she’d had a normal job, she probably would have turned into a workaholic.

  Tournaments, though, were different. While she didn’t have many close friends, she enjoyed the camaraderie of the tour. She got along with everyone and liked to go out for drinks or dinner when they weren’t working. She didn’t want this nutcase interfering with that.

  “I don’t want to make a big deal out of this, Zo. Qatar is always really contained, so it’s not a big deal. And it’s not like I’m going to have time to go out or do much at Indian Wells. When I’m not with you and the team, I’ll be with Dera, who always has a side of beef following her around or with Maren or Owen.”

  “Emmy, I don’t think you realize how serious this is. You have someone threatening you, who wants to do you physical harm. You can’t brush this aside,” Zoe said, pulling Em to face her.

  She felt bad for the older woman. She was scared, and Em didn’t blame her, but it also wasn’t her life that would be affected if they gave in to panic. “Freaking out is exactly what this person wants. He wants me to miss out on my life, to let him be the one in power. I can’t do that. I’ll take all the usual precautions, but I’m not going to let him see me blink. Not until we know something more about him.”

  Zoe clearly didn’t like Em’s answer, but she thankfully let it go. They went through more drills on the court and then went into the gym for conditioning work. Emerson tried to keep her focus on her routine, but her mind started to drift to Rob, something that was happening way too frequently.

  For the first time since she left New York, she’d ignored his texts and phone calls yesterday and the day before. Twinges of guilt and the inexplicable need to talk to him almost had her responding to the last call, but she’d stopped herself. She’d spent too much time thinking about him the last few days, and her dreams kept getting hotter, more erotic and sensual than most of her real-life encounters. A little breathing room might do her some good. Her focus should be on the court, not on if she’d talked to Rob that day. Besides, a woman didn’t obsess about talking to someone who was just a friend, and that’s all he could ever be. A friend with absolutely no benefits.

  By the time her physio worked her over at the end of the day, Em’s body resembled a wet noodle. She poured herself into her car and drove home by rote, avoiding the heavy traffic areas in favor of the sun-dappled streets lined with houses. It took a little longer to get home, but it was worth it to get to destress instead of worrying about idiot drivers.

  She pulled up to her townhouse but stayed in her car. There was a strange Jeep parked across the street with a man sitting in it.

  Her fingers hovered over Detective Combs’s contact on her phone when she realized who was in the car. Brows furrowed and a
nnoyance flaring, she grabbed her workout bag and marched up to the Jeep. Of course he would show up when she was wearing a pair of ratty jeans and a T-shirt of Owen’s she’d stolen in college. It was gratifying to see him jump a little when she knocked on the window. He quickly put on that charming, dimpled smile that made her panties go a little damp.

  “Hi. I was just about to call you,” he said, opening the door and unfolding his long, lean body. He wore a slate-gray oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows and a pair of dark wash jeans that probably cost more than her prom dress. Those muscular, sexy forearms were seriously unfair.

  He moved to give her a hug, but she put a hand on his chest, keeping him at bay for the moment.

  “Really? I thought you were in California all week. Imagine my surprise to find you here, lurking outside my house like a creeper.”

  Her head started to spin a little. After all that had happened since she last saw him, she didn’t know how she felt about letting him in. But instead of taking the hint, he’d shown up on her doorstep looking so damn good and safe, and she couldn’t decide whether to slap him or bury herself in his arms.

  “Creeper? I’m just a guy who decided to surprise his friend since he was unexpectedly in town. Since you weren’t answering my calls, it’s not like I could warn you I’d be waiting at your house.” Rob shut the door to the car. “You’d think a guy would at least get a hug after traveling across the country to see said friend.”

  She hefted her bag on her shoulder and glanced at the house next door. Luckily, Owen’s car wasn’t waiting outside his townhouse, but she expected him to pull up at any moment.

  “O lives next door. For all we know, there’s a photographer lurking in those bushes over there.” She led the way to the door, walking quickly in the hopes that he’d get the message. The last thing she needed was for the stalker to see him walking into her house, especially not this close to dark.

  “Nice place.” He took in the open entry hall. “If I didn’t know you lived here, I’d still know it was yours.”

  She laughed, setting down her bag on the entry hall bench. “What does that mean?”

  “It means it looks like you. It’s not fussy or cluttered. Bright but comfortable colors. Pretty but functional furniture, and lots of books everywhere.” He followed her into the living room.

  “Thanks.” She shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans. “You never answered my question.”

  He smiled at her, all charming and sexy and infuriating. “What question is that?”

  “Why. Are. You. Here?” Annoyance still spiked, mixing with low-level temper and fatigue. She’d reached her maximum level of socialization for the day, and her stomach was ready to eat itself. Playing games with him wasn’t on the agenda.

  He took a seat on her yellow-and-gray polka dot chair, still managing to look hot and masculine even in the girliest piece of furniture in the room. She took a seat on the purple-checked couch, sinking deep into the cushions to keep as much space between them as possible. Tension crackled through the air; he might look pleasant and affable, but Rob was pissed about something.

  “I’m here because you and I need to talk, and you’ve been avoiding my calls.” He still kept his voice even and pleasant, but temper lurked beneath the surface. “Besides, I had to be down here anyway to visit my parents before I head to Qatar. Mom insisted.”

  That took her a little off her guard. She’d forgotten that he and his mother were close because his dad always overshadowed so many of her memories of Rob. “I haven’t been avoiding you. I needed some space, and I’ve been busy. It’s not like I talk to Dera or Maren every day.”

  “Really? Because you seem to be pretty good at keeping me at arm’s length even when we are talking every day.” A dangerous edge crept into the charming smile, and she went back on alert.

  “What are you talking about?” she asked, curling her legs up to her chest, hoping that it might muffle the sound of her rumbling stomach and the crying of her aching muscles.

  He didn’t give anything away; his face kept the easy expression he’d worn thousands of times in interviews and on news reports she’d watched over the last few weeks. “I got a call from Joey the day before yesterday. She wants me to investigate an interesting rumor she heard about.”

  “Oh?” A dozen scenarios flashed through her head, dread pooling in the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t think of what Joey could have him investigating that would get him so pissed off at her.

  “Yeah. She said that she’s heard some rumors about you receiving letters. Letters she heard might be from a stalker. I gotta say, I was a little surprised that this was the first I’d heard of them. Maren didn’t mention it when we had lunch, but she did say she thought you were holding back.” He shrugged, anger creeping into his steely eyes.

  For a moment, a wave of guilt hit her, but she pushed it back. What gave him the right to be pissed at her about this? Especially since he was here because his boss had sent him. They weren’t dating, and they’d just started this whole friend thing. “It’s just some weirdo getting his rocks off by intimidating me. Seemed a bit much to toss into early stages of friendship. It’s not something I would tell someone I’d only known for a few weeks. I sure as hell wouldn’t tell them about it if they worked for a gossip news network.”

  “It’s not a gossip network.” The temper crackled around him. “And a few weeks? I’m pretty sure I’ve known you for seven years, Em. I would think you’d know that I wouldn’t use that kind of information in a story and that I would give a damn that someone was fucking threatening you.”

  Em let out a startled laugh of disbelief. “You’re kidding me, right? Your boss sent you here to do a story about this very topic. Can you not understand why I wouldn’t tell you something like this?”

  “I’m not an idiot, Em. Do you honestly think I’d actually go through with this story?” He got to his feet and started pacing, sizing her up as if they were on the court instead of in her living room. “I only agreed to it so I could come down here and check on you without anyone getting suspicious.”

  She wanted to believe him, but temper and seven years of mistrust flared. He’d abandoned her, but now he expected her to suddenly trust him with something as high octane as her stalker. If he went to his network with all the intimate details, they’d probably build a statue in his honor.

  “I don’t know what you’d do, Rob,” she shot back. “I didn’t think Kole would keep those stupid pictures either, but he did, and now they’re everywhere. If the news of this were to get out, it would make everything ten times worse than the photo leak.”

  He looked ready to punch something. “Do not compare me to that jackass, Em. I don’t know what went on between you two, but I am nothing like him.”

  “And I’m supposed to believe that?” She buried her face in her knees, then looked back up. “Before you disappeared, you slept around almost as much as Kole did, a new leggy model on your arm at every event. You walked away because I didn’t match your ideal woman, just like he did.”

  And you broke my heart, just like he did. She left those words unsaid, but she hoped he remembered. She might be the one keeping the wall up between them now, but he was the one who built it in the first place.

  Rob shoved his hands through his hair, the blond strands catching the light from one of her antique lamps. “I’m not that guy anymore. I haven’t been that guy since I hurt my shoulder.”

  She wanted to believe that. She wanted to believe he’d changed. He certainly wouldn’t have stood up for her so publicly before his injury. But at the end of the day, he was still the great Rob Ashton, and she was still that little nobody scrapping her way to the top. “Maybe that’s true. I don’t know. In my life, I trust a very small group of people. The last person I let in turned out to be a complete jerk on a monumental scale. Do you get why I didn’t call and tell you right off the bat that I have a stalker?”

  Finally, he stopped pacing and looke
d at her with such intensity that her knees went weak and her breath caught in her throat. With a level of speed she hadn’t seen since the last match, he swept her up off the couch, his arms around her waist, her legs dangling limply so her toes brushed his shins.

  “What are you doing?” she asked breathlessly. “I thought we agreed—”

  “To hell with what we agreed to.” Rob’s mouth crashed into hers, and without thinking, she tangled her fingers in his hair, losing herself in the moment.

  So much bad shit had happened since she last saw him, so much hung between them still unsaid, but it all went up in flames the second he kissed her. All it took for her body to respond to him was a single touch. Her girl parts had been ready and raring to go before he even left her hotel room in New York.

  She really, really shouldn’t be doing this. Every time he got involved in her life, she ended up even more of a mess than before. She should pull away, make him let her go. Remind him again that friends don’t kiss friends, at least not in ways that threatened to burn down the house around them it was so hot.

  But God, it felt so good.

  She’d had some good sex since he took her virginity, but none of it was quite the same as with him. All her senses came alive as his hand strayed down to cup her butt.

  “Mmm…Rob. We—we shouldn’t—” She tried to get the words out, but her lips stayed fastened to his, desperately craving more.

  He groaned, lifting her so the apex of her thighs rubbed against the erection growing underneath the rough denim of his jeans. “Tell me you don’t want me, Em. Tell me and I’ll stop.”

  Every rational part of her brain that hadn’t been obliterated by that kiss told her that having sex with him again was beyond stupid, but her libido gave those parts the finger and told them to shut up. Instead of answering, she pulled him in, kissing him even deeper than before. He started moving backward, blindly navigating her living room. Unfortunately, climbing the stairs without looking required more coordination than he had, and Rob tumbled back against the stairs with her sprawling on top of him.