baseline. On her last serve she double-faulted to give him set point.
Angry with herself for playing so poorly, and with him for being so condescending, Glenna barely glanced at him when they switched ends. But he goaded her in passing.
"You'd better get your mind on the game. Your problem is you're not concentrating."
The criticism was a stinging prod. Glenna returned his first serve with a blistering cross-court shot that caught him flat-footed. From that point on her game improved. Yet she was never equal to Jett. He would let her draw close, even win a game or two, but each time the match was in jeopardy, he'd slam home a shot that she couldn't return.
The strong competitive streak within Glenna refused to let her quit. Jett was controlling the game, running her legs off, but she kept battling until he won the match point. Perspiration ran in rivulets down her neck as she walked in defeat toward the net. Winded, she was gripping her side while he vaulted the net, barely out of breath.
"Congratulations." The handshake she offered him was limp, as exhausted as her voice.
"Tired?" There was a taunting smile in his tone.
Resentment flared wearily in her gray green eyes as she wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. Turning, she walked slowly off the court, aware that Jett fell in step with her.
"You could have annihilated me," she accused. "Wiped me off the court anytime you wanted. I don't like the idea that you were just toying with me, playing cat and mouse."
"It seemed more of a contest, didn't it?" he handed her a towel.
"I don't think you even worked up a sweat," Glenna complained, her voice partially muffled by the towel she used to wipe her face.
"I did," he assured her on a lazy note. "You are a pretty good player when you concentrate."
"No mouse likes to be patronized." She draped the towel around her neck, letting the ends hang down the front.
"I have never seen a mouse with chestnut hair before or a temper to match it," Jett chided with a wicked glint in his eye.
Her breath had returned to a more even rate. She lifted her head to look at him. "I'm not really a sore loser, although it might sound like that. It's just that…being allowed to come close is almost as bad as being allowed to win," she explained. "What satisfaction is there if you know someone let you do it."
"You have a valid point." His hands caught the ends of her towel, pulling her closer to him. With each breath she inhaled his earthy male scent, heightened by perspiration and the heat of exertion. It did funny things to her pulse. "But it wasn't my intention to appear patronizing. You are a fierce competitor. I felt you were entitled to some kind of reward for your efforts. You just wouldn't give up."
"I never quit." It was unthinkable.
Jett wiped her cheek with an end of her towel, managing to give the impression of a caress. "I realize that."
Then his hand was under her chin, lifting it so his mouth could claim her lips. Glenna tasted the salty flavor of him in the moist union of their lips as she swayed against the hard support of his length. She was still thirsting for more of his kisses when he slowly drew away from her clinging lips.
"I suppose you mentioned to your father what we discussed last night. Is that why he asked to meet me this afternoon?" Jett murmured.
Dammit! He was doing it again. Catching her off guard with her senses drugged by the potency of his kisses. Glenna straightened from him, containing her anger with an effort.
"Yes, I told him about your misguided suspicions," she admitted since there wasn't any point in lying. "I think he wants to meet you to correct the impression you were forming about him."
"What does he want to talk to me about?" Jett continued to watch her while he slipped his tennis racket into its protective carrying case.
"Dad could explain it better than I can." Glenna didn't try to convince him that she didn't know. "I told you before I'm not involved with any of his business
Angry with herself for playing so poorly, and with him for being so condescending, Glenna barely glanced at him when they switched ends. But he goaded her in passing.
"You'd better get your mind on the game. Your problem is you're not concentrating."
The criticism was a stinging prod. Glenna returned his first serve with a blistering cross-court shot that caught him flat-footed. From that point on her game improved. Yet she was never equal to Jett. He would let her draw close, even win a game or two, but each time the match was in jeopardy, he'd slam home a shot that she couldn't return.
The strong competitive streak within Glenna refused to let her quit. Jett was controlling the game, running her legs off, but she kept battling until he won the match point. Perspiration ran in rivulets down her neck as she walked in defeat toward the net. Winded, she was gripping her side while he vaulted the net, barely out of breath.
"Congratulations." The handshake she offered him was limp, as exhausted as her voice.
"Tired?" There was a taunting smile in his tone.
Resentment flared wearily in her gray green eyes as she wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. Turning, she walked slowly off the court, aware that Jett fell in step with her.
"You could have annihilated me," she accused. "Wiped me off the court anytime you wanted. I don't like the idea that you were just toying with me, playing cat and mouse."
"It seemed more of a contest, didn't it?" he handed her a towel.
"I don't think you even worked up a sweat," Glenna complained, her voice partially muffled by the towel she used to wipe her face.
"I did," he assured her on a lazy note. "You are a pretty good player when you concentrate."
"No mouse likes to be patronized." She draped the towel around her neck, letting the ends hang down the front.
"I have never seen a mouse with chestnut hair before or a temper to match it," Jett chided with a wicked glint in his eye.
Her breath had returned to a more even rate. She lifted her head to look at him. "I'm not really a sore loser, although it might sound like that. It's just that…being allowed to come close is almost as bad as being allowed to win," she explained. "What satisfaction is there if you know someone let you do it."
"You have a valid point." His hands caught the ends of her towel, pulling her closer to him. With each breath she inhaled his earthy male scent, heightened by perspiration and the heat of exertion. It did funny things to her pulse. "But it wasn't my intention to appear patronizing. You are a fierce competitor. I felt you were entitled to some kind of reward for your efforts. You just wouldn't give up."
"I never quit." It was unthinkable.
Jett wiped her cheek with an end of her towel, managing to give the impression of a caress. "I realize that."
Then his hand was under her chin, lifting it so his mouth could claim her lips. Glenna tasted the salty flavor of him in the moist union of their lips as she swayed against the hard support of his length. She was still thirsting for more of his kisses when he slowly drew away from her clinging lips.
"I suppose you mentioned to your father what we discussed last night. Is that why he asked to meet me this afternoon?" Jett murmured.
Dammit! He was doing it again. Catching her off guard with her senses drugged by the potency of his kisses. Glenna straightened from him, containing her anger with an effort.
"Yes, I told him about your misguided suspicions," she admitted since there wasn't any point in lying. "I think he wants to meet you to correct the impression you were forming about him."
"What does he want to talk to me about?" Jett continued to watch her while he slipped his tennis racket into its protective carrying case.
"Dad could explain it better than I can." Glenna didn't try to convince him that she didn't know. "I told you before I'm not involved with any of his business
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