Page 18 of Enemies Under One Roof

Frowning, she tugged at her hair.

She wiped a wrist sweatband over her forehead and dropped her arm. Then, like she was stepping into a role, she straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin and Ivy Flame returned.

Disappointment flooded him. He should be happy she’d reminded him who she really was, which was not this unaffected woman he’d spied on the court. Yet he wasn’t, and he wasn’t going to examine that too closely.

‘What do you want?’ she asked, raising a brow.

Want? Something deep inside him bubbled, begging to be released, that had every nerve ending on high alert.

‘Ethan, what’s wrong?’

Wrong? If only he knew. Because she wasn’t the only one surprised to find him here. Still, he didn’t move. Because it had been Annie who’d drawn him here, as much as he hated to admit it, and kept him here. Just like the day of the party, and increasing moments over the past week. He was drawn to her in a way that no good could come from.

He glanced away, trying to gather his wits and spotted the launcher.

‘You bring it with you? I don’t remember seeing it before.’ He nodded at the impressive machine, grateful for the distraction from his relentless internal tug of war.

‘This one I got last year. It’s usually kept in the tennis shed.’

‘Fancy a game?’ he asked, completely unprepared to do any such thing. But once the question was out, it felt right. Because maybe it’d extinguish the inconvenient and unwanted draw towards her that he couldn’t seem to shake, no matter how much he tried.

And maybe it would make Annie appear again, a voice whispered, as much as he tried to drown it out.

‘What! Now?’

‘Sure, why not? We’ve done our morning session and got the afternoon free.’ A week into their daily meetings and they were no closer on a decision. Three hours per day in her presence as they thrashed out the options and he got acquainted with her razor-sharp mind. Three hours of constantly being caught off guard by his attraction to her, despite his internal monologues that he couldn’t be attracted to anyone who performed for the cameras and didn’t bother about collateral damage. Because, more often than not, he kept forgetting that.

‘How often do you play?’ she asked.

‘Last time was right here with Cam and Luc, back when we were in school.’ He smiled at the memories. ‘We’d reenact Wimbledon, especially during the summer, complete with meltdowns and arguing about whether shots were in or not.’

Ivy’s eyes widened before she pressed her fingers against them.

His mouth dried. She’s going to say no. Infuriated that he even cared, still he braced himself.

She dropped her hand, her expression shuttered. ‘Full disclosure, I practice, a lot.’

‘Not play?’

‘No.’ Her lips flattened.

‘That gives me more of a chance then, because you obviously know your way around the court.’

‘Okay, let’s do it,’ Ivy agreed.

Her eyes met his, held, and even at this distance he could see hers darken, as the intangible thread between them that defied all logic pulled taut.

‘Right! I’ll get this out of the way.’ Ivy made for the automatic launcher. ‘While you grab a racket.’

Two hours later, despite considering himself fit, Ethan’s legs and lungs burned as he crouched, waiting for Ivy to serve on match point. Her match point.

He had no idea how long she’d been hitting shots before he arrived, but it hadn’t affected her ability to send him racing across every inch of the court. It wasn’t like he’d been hustled. He’d seen she was good, yet now he had an even greater appreciation for her ability, agility and sportswomanship.

A layer of sweat on his back plastered his lightweight hoodie to his skin and as much as he wanted the torture to end, his competitive spirit wouldn’t let him give anything other than a hundred percent.

Ethan forced himself to concentrate on the ball, not Ivy poised to serve, before she sent the ball screaming towards him. Sprinting forward, he swung his racket and hit his shot straight into the net.

He groaned in disappointment, and in relief.