Love. Set. Match.

  But Em wasn’t sure she wanted those feelings to still be there. It had hurt too much last time, and with everything else, she wasn’t sure she was strong enough to be hurt again. The partnership her grandmother described sounded so good, though. Maybe if she redoubled her focus and worked even harder in the next few weeks, she could get her win without giving Rob up. It was at least worth a try.

  Chapter 14

  “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Em grumbled as Rob met her at the door to the upscale Miami hotel ballroom.

  Rob grinned at her, pulling her off to one side so that an oversized palm tree hid them from view. “It’s for a good cause. You like my mom’s charity, remember? Helping foster kids and at-risk kids is one of your things. And you look gorgeous.”

  She really did. The warm, dark yellow color of the gown turned her skin a rich golden tone, and the plunging neckline and thin shoulder straps made his mouth water. She’d even managed to pin her hair up in a sexy, curly up-do thing that left her neck and collarbone exposed.

  “I lost the French Open, Rob. I should be practicing or studying my last match. I shouldn’t be attending a charity gala with the guy I’m secretly sleeping with.” Em wrinkled her nose. “And compliments aren’t going to distract me from that fact.”

  Sighing, Rob slid his arms around her waist, pulling her close. She was taking this loss a lot harder than the others. “It was the semifinals, and you were playing against Dera on her home turf. She’s a beast on clay. You saw how she smashed through everyone else at the tournament. You at least took her to three sets.”

  To prevent her from arguing further, he leaned in for a kiss. He missed being able to kiss her. He’d been stuck in New York for the last week, dealing with his bosses yelling at him for not running with the story about the stalker. Joey had taken it as a personal affront that he didn’t confirm the story for her two months ago, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

  The back of his neck tingled, like someone was watching him, but he brushed it aside. As concealing as the palm might be, they were in public. Thankfully, it was dark enough that the odds of someone identifying the couple making out behind the big leaves were slim.

  “You’re lucky I’m wearing smudge-proof lipstick, mister.”

  The breathy quality of Em’s voice made him hard in less than two seconds. “Mmm. Now, are you done with your guilt freak-out? I promise you, it’s okay if you take one night off. I’d like to enjoy getting to see your face instead of your text messages. I missed it.”

  “I missed your face too,” she admitted. “Fine. We can go in. But remember, none of the couple-y stuff. There’s too many people we know here, plus I just had to walk past fifty photographers.”

  “Fine, but one last kiss.” He leaned down for another kiss, letting his tongue tease hers a little, savoring the sweet taste of her. “Okay. I’m good. For now.”

  “Good to know.” Em giggled, glancing pointedly down at the crotch of his tuxedo pants. Damn it. He was as hard as a rock. “Why don’t I go in, and you can stay here until you’re more…presentable?”

  “Right.” He stayed where he was, watching her walk away. Her hips swayed, making the floaty fabric of her dress flutter seductively around the silver heels peeping out from under the hem.

  After she left, the reality of the situation started to come back to him. He was at his parents’ major charity gala of the year. The woman he wanted more than his next breath was here, and so was his dad, the person who’d driven them apart the first time around. At the time he invited her, this had sounded like a good idea.

  Waiting behind the plant for a few more minutes, he reminded himself this wasn’t London. He wasn’t a kid trying to please his father anymore. Tonight was about putting on a good face for his family, and it was about getting to see Em somewhere other than at a tournament or at her townhouse. Thankfully, Owen and Cruz were here somewhere. So was Dera. His sister was always his wing-woman at events like this, but it was nice to have the additional backup.

  Rob emerged from behind the plant once he got his body under control, and he straightened his tie and his hair. He’d barely made it halfway down the stairs into the ballroom before his mother came gliding up to him.

  “Rob! Älskling, where have you been? I thought I saw you earlier, but then you disappeared,” Brigit said, lifting her cheek for him to kiss. She looked lovely in an ice blue gown that draped over her willowy body as if it had been designed just for her—which it probably had.

  “Sorry, Mom. I saw a friend I needed to talk to. You look stunning as usual.” He kissed her cheek. “This is some party.”

  Brigit shrugged. “Your father and I never do things by half measures. Have you seen him yet?”

  “No. I haven’t seen him or Maren. I’m sure I’ll run into him eventually.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and scanned the room. His eyes caught on a flash of rich yellow through the crowd of pastels and black. Em was standing by one of the perfectly set tables, talking to Maren and Cruz, her head thrown back in laughter. God, she was gorgeous. He wished he could go up to her and kiss her, taste that laughter and the flavor that was just Em.

  “Is that Emerson Grace?” Brigit asked, following his line of sight. “She looks quite lovely. I’m so glad she decided to come this year. I really admire the work she’s done with her foundation.”

  A smile stretched across his lips, unconscious pride in Em. “Yeah, she’s great.”

  “Great, hm?” She got this look in her eyes that put him on alert. It was one of those mom looks that threatened to turn a man’s world upside down if given half a chance.

  “What?” He shuffled his feet and avoided his mother’s gaze, hoping to catch Maren’s eye so she could rescue him.

  Brigit linked her arm through Rob’s, that look never wavering as she nodded to people walking by. “You still have feelings for the Grace girl.”

  Oh. That’s why she had the look. She was matchmaking or something. He quickly ran through his options. He could deny the hell out of it, and she likely wouldn’t believe him. Or he could tell her the truth. He and his mom hadn’t always been close, but since his injury, they’d developed a deep bond. She’d braved his black moods and been by his bedside after every surgery. She’d stepped up in a way he hadn’t expected. His relationship with his father overshadowed so much of his childhood years that his mother somehow faded into the background. Back when he and Em first met in London, he’d never talked to his mother about how he felt. He’d assumed she agreed with his father about everything, but things were different now. He could rely on her.

  “I might,” he proceeded cautiously. “What would you say if I did?”

  Her eyes softened. “I would say that look in your eyes when you watch her is enough to make any mother happy for her son. Does she still have feelings for you?”

  He stopped, considering his words carefully. He didn’t want to think too much about all the walls Em put up between them. Better to take a different tack. “We’ve been seeing each other for a few months now.”

  “A few months?” Her jaw dropped in surprise. “Is that why you’ve been in Miami so much lately?”

  “Yeah. We’ve been trying to keep things quiet, so I’ve been coming down to see her when I can. It’s a little easier to keep things on the down low here than in New York. Less crowded.”

  It was also because he felt more at ease here than in New York. New York didn’t…fit him. He only lived there because his job was based there. He’d rather be here, close to his mom, close to his girl.

  “I’m sure it’s been hard for both of you, spending so much time apart. I assume that your employers don’t know about this?” She raised an eyebrow.

  His stomach clenched. That was the tricky part in all of this. His bosses would hang him up by his toenails if they found out about him dating Em. “Nope. Like I said, very few people even know we’re together, and we want to keep it that way for a while, what with Em’s stalker and the phot
os and all the press attention.”

  “Understandable.” She tugged him to walk with her. “But how long can you keep this silent? The two of you aren’t A-List celebrities, but you’re very well known in certain circles. Eventually, someone will see the two of you together, and it will be big news. Do you think you’ll be able to keep your job after that?”

  Trust his mother to go straight to the heart of the matter. She didn’t pull punches or try to coddle him. She was supportive, but fair. And she had a damned good point. That question had been at the back of his mind since Em started to loosen her grip on their secret and let people in. The longer he spent with Em, the more he wanted to be with her for good. He could care about his career, especially now that his options were limited if he wanted to stay in the tennis world, but he wasn’t sure that he did.

  “I don’t know, Mom. I’m trying not to overplay my hand on this one, and I can’t worry about the minor ‘what ifs’ now.” He sighed, nodding to one of his dad’s old tennis buddies. “I’m focusing on the big ‘what if’—what if Em’s the one, and I threw my chance away seven years ago because I let my dad and my career come between us?”

  Brigit had the good grace to look down, color staining her cheeks from more than just the blush she’d used. “Your father meant well, Älskling. He really did. He wanted you to focus on your tennis career. You know how he gets. He wanted the best for you, and in his own way, he was trying to show you that he cares. Even now, he’s worried for you. He doesn’t show it in the most obvious ways, but he wants to see you happy and settled with someone who will give you the same kind of partnership we’ve enjoyed for so long.”

  Best for him? His father wanted what was best for him? Rob had so much to say on that little pronouncement, but he held it in. His mother would defend her Bobby until her last breath. He both loved and hated that about her. And he really didn’t like the sound of that last bit. His father’s worry for him usually led to the two of them nearly coming to blows over something.

  “Like I said, I’m focused on here and now. Em means a lot to me, and I want as much time with her as I can.”

  She turned to face him, a warm, concerned expression on her usually cool face.

  “I understand, and if you are happy with Emerson, then I couldn’t be happier for you. Just…be careful, Älskling. I don’t want to see you get hurt.” Brigit reached up and straightened his tie.

  “Don’t worry, Mama. I’m going into this one with my eyes open.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek again. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go check on my friends.”

  Brigit chuckled. “Say hello to Emerson for me. Be sure you two dance later. I want to see how lovely my grandchildren could be.”

  Rob was still shaking his head when he walked up to the small group waiting at the table he’d been assigned to.

  “What?” Em asked as he came to stand beside her, lacing his hand with hers under the cover of the folds of her dress.

  He opened his mouth to speak, then shook his head again, mesmerized by the sight of her. She was so gorgeous. The thought of losing her sent a sharp pain through his gut and into his heart. Hearing his mother speculating about potential grandchildren should have scared the shit out of him, but it didn’t. The thought actually comforted him. He and Em could make it. They could be together and have children. He just had to ensure that he didn’t let anything—not even his father—ruin it this time.

  ****

  “Ms. Grace, I believe it’s my turn for a dance.”

  Rob held out his hand to her. She’d been up and down all evening, dancing with Cruz and Owen and other friends from the tour. They’d taken a break to eat dinner, but couples were once again starting to trickle back onto the floor.

  It’d killed her not to dance with him, though, especially when she saw him dancing with other women. Obviously, it didn’t bother her if he danced with Dera or Maren, but she’d been surprised by the pangs of jealousy that hit her every time Rob danced with someone else. She expected her face had been as green as the courts at Wimbledon when she saw him dancing with Carrie Webster, another product of tennis royalty. Carrie and her twin brother, Clayton, were the darlings of mixed doubles tennis, like their parents before them. There’d been a rumor a few years ago that Rob and Carrie were a thing, but Maren assured her that the rumors were more wishful thinking on the part of their parents than anything based in reality.

  In spite of the blips of jealousy that tugged at the back of her mind, they’d had a wonderful evening. Under the guise of talking with friends and acquaintances, she and Rob spent time together without actually appearing to be a couple. It had been…nice to be out in public with him. But dancing with him? That might be testing their luck too much.

  “Do you think that’s a good idea?” she asked. It was really hard to resist him right now, standing there looking all handsome and sexy and suave in his tux.

  “Yes, I do. I think it’s an excellent idea for me to dance with you right now since I can’t do any of the things I really want to do with you right now.” Rob kept his voice low, but Owen still made a face.

  “Oh, gross, guys. Seriously. You’re going to make me puke up my dinner,” Owen moaned.

  Dera smacked him. “Stop being a child. Go dance with the man, Emmy. You look fabulous in that dress, and you’ll look even more fabulous dancing with him. Go.”

  “Fine.” She put her hand in Rob’s. “One dance.”

  Rob grinned, linking their fingers together. The band began playing a cover of Ed Sheeran’s “Thinking Out Loud,” and she couldn’t help but smile back.

  “So you’re happy to be dancing with me,” he teased, pulling her into his arms, his hand resting on the small of her back, their hands clasped together still.

  She tilted her head to meet his eyes. “Maybe I like this song.”

  “Why do you think I asked you to dance?” His eyes softened, and all she wanted to do was kiss him. He remembered this was one of her favorite songs. She vaguely recalled mentioning it in passing a month or so ago when they’d been talking about their days. She’d told him it was one of the songs she had on her playlist to listen to when she’d had a long day. It was just so hopeful. For the first time, she was as hopeful as the song. Being here with Rob, dancing at a party full of people they worked with, filled her with that level of hope.

  “Some days, Rob Ashton, you are the biggest pain in the ass,” she said. “Then other days—like today—you’re Prince freaking Harry or something. How do you do it?”

  With his golden hair and blue eyes, he was a near-perfect specimen of a man. Never in a million years had she thought she would be here now with a guy like this. She’d always worried that she would find a man who would turn out to be like her father, charming but distant, more intent on saving the world than saving his family.

  “Talent. And if I’m a prince, then you’re definitely my tennis-playing princess. You bring out my romantic side.” To demonstrate, he dipped her a little before bringing her back upright.

  “Very smooth,” she teased.

  “Thank you. My grandma insisted on giving me dancing lessons. She convinced Gramps that it would make me lighter on my feet on the court.” He made a face, but she laughed.

  “Clever grandma.” She let him lead her through the gentle steps of the rumba, loving how in sync their bodies were. It was so comfortable to dance with him. She didn’t worry about him not leading her or fumbling a step. They simply flowed. For a little while, she could forget about losing in the semifinals of the French Open and the fear of being too distracted to prove herself to her grandparents. She could leave behind the weight of guilt and disappointment and just be a woman dancing with a man who made her heart flutter.

  “You and Carrie Webster looked pretty cozy earlier. She certainly appreciated your dance skills,” Em prodded. She didn’t want to ruin the moment, but that niggling voice in the back of her head needed reassurance.

  He shrugged, his gaze moving ove
r her face in a lazy caress. “Carrie’s an okay dancer, but she doesn’t work with me. I have to do all the work. You, on the other hand, move with me perfectly. Almost as well as you do in bed.”

  He said the last part in a husky whisper, moving so his cheek rest against her. As if to prove his point, he brought her body flush to his. A wave of desire pulsed through her, bringing her back to the steamy encounter behind the palm earlier. If it wouldn’t earn them endless ribbing from their friends, she might suggest they sneak out early.

  “Mmm. We do know how to hold a conversation with our bodies at least,” she said, breathing in the eucalyptus and mint that clung to his tux, mixing with the underlying aroma of maleness and Rob.

  “You really do look gorgeous tonight,” he murmured in her ear before spinning her out and back in.

  She smiled. She never got tired of hearing him say that. She never doubted for a minute that he meant it. “Careful. Someone might start getting suspicious if you keep looking at me like that.”

  “Does it matter?” he asked. She quickly looked up. The laughter was gone, and his gray eyes were suddenly serious for the first time all evening. “Would it be so bad if everyone knew?”

  Her stomach dropped to her surprisingly comfortable Jimmy Choos. She was not ready for everyone to know about them. Her chest tightened, and her insides rolled as she remembered how bad it’d been when the pictures came out. How much worse would it be now, especially since Rob had defended her both on TV and so publicly in front of other reporters in Paris? Besides, once everyone knew, they’d be under a microscope. That wasn’t what she needed right now.

  “I—” She stopped herself from spewing all her concerns at him. This was not the time or place, plus she was having problems breathing now at the thought of it all. “Can we talk about this later? I just want to enjoy the evening.”

  His face fell a little, but the gleam in his eye told her he wouldn’t give up easily. “Okay.”

  The song ended, and he led her back to the table. Their friends grinned at them, and a flush crept up Em’s face. “Shut up, all of you. Not a single word from the peanut gallery.”