Not So Snow White (24 page)

He turned his attention back to his sister. Or was the buzz partly for Gaby? Whatever the case, she seemed to feed off the energy that was rocking the stands now and easily held her service game at love.

"One game away from a third set," Aurora said, clapping her hands, sending her bracelets jangling.

Max found himself glancing over at Tess, and caught her doing the same to him. When she smiled, it was one of excitement and pure joy. It was the first time he could recall seeing her so open and carefree. There was nothing calculating or mischievous there. And he found himself wondering what she'd been like when she was younger, early on in her career, when she was eager and new to the ways of the tour, much like his sister was now.

Tess was still eager, and the hunger, the competitive drive that had led her to win a handful of the same trophy Gaby was playing toward today, still shone clearly in her eyes. Only now all of Tess's energy and focus was directed at his sister.

Max pulled his gaze from Tess's, and looked down at Gaby as she went into battle to take this match to a third set, He wondered for the first time if maybe Tess was helping Gaby as a means to continue her own battles on the court of play, battles she could no longer fight herself.

Wasn't that why a lot of players turned to coaching? Tess insisted she wasn't a coach. But watching Gaby out there, clearly benefiting from the brief amount of time Tess had spent with her, and watching Tess, clearly completely invested in the outcome of this match
…
he had to wonder if maybe she was protesting too much.

She might not want to coach, and Lor
d knows she didn't need a job…
but maybe this wasn't about needing a job. Maybe it was about needing to be needed. And needing to have the adrenaline rush of winning, even if it was by proxy.

So why the television appearance today? Why flaunt herself, and by association, his sister, in front of the press, inviting more attention and therefore more pressure on Gaby? His thoughts flipped back the other way. Maybe she really didn't have Gaby's best interest at heart. Max felt his own heart settle firmly back in its proper spot as reality set back in. Maybe she just wanted to stay in the public eye, maybe that was her adrenaline rush now. And she was only excited about getting Gaby into the second round for the increased visibility it would bring her. A chance to continue her swan song in the public forum.

"Oh, my goodness," Aurora said, squeezing the lifeblood out of his hand. "She's going to win the set!"

And sure enough, on a short serve from Davina, Gaby charged the net again. Davina, clearly rattled, guessed wrong and stabbed right, as Gaby neatly dumped it over the net to the left.

The crowd leaped to its feet as the cool British umpire calmly called the set in favor of Miss Fontaine. Aurora hugged Tess, Max hugged Aurora, and Tess hugged them both.

Looking past Aurora straight at him, Tess said, "She's gonna take this, Max. She's gonna do it!" She hooted. "Davina will be lucky to get two games off her in the next set. Bet you."

And without knowing exactly why, he said, "I'll take that bet."

Tess cocked one eyebrow. "Oh? A betting man? I wouldn't have thought you had it in you."

Why was he smiling at her? Encouraging her? What was wrong with him? "Life is a gamble, right?" he heard himself say.

Tess's expression turned smug as they settled back in their seats. "Okay, Mr. Risk Taker, what's the bet?"

"Gaby moves on to the second round, you stick with her."

Tess looked surprised. "I wouldn't abandon her. What kind of bet is that? Except, of course, coming from you, asking me to stay on must seem like a major capitulation. But still, not exactly a wager."

"I wasn't done yet." Now Max's smile spread to a grin, and he had the distinct pleasure of watching Tess shift back a bit. Something he doubted she did very often, in any part of her life,

"Okay, what else?"

"You're getting paid to coach." She started to object, but he talked over her.
"We'
r
e
paying you to coach, okay? My job is to take care of the rest. So for the duration of the tournament, for however long Gaby is in it, you'll coach her, but you'll answer to me in any matters pertaining to Gaby that don't directly relate to coaching. And you'll stick with whatever I decide. That includes all press and media decisions."

Tess held his gaze, clearly not thrilled with the bet, but unable to back down from the challenge, "We have to get her past this match, first." She turned her attention back to the game.

Max kept his attention squarely on her. "So
…
we have a deal?"

Tess glanced briefly at him. "Don't look too smug yet, Risk Boy. I haven't named my terms if you lose."

"If Gaby loses,
out
business arrangement is over, so—
"

"I didn't say if
she
loses, she won't lose. Davina is on the ropes and going down for the count. The only part left up for
grabs is how badly Gaby takes her. I said she'd win six games to two or better. That was my bet. If she takes more games than that to close this deal, you win."

Then she flashed him that grin again. The one that was calculated, mischievous, and all those other things that made his stomach knot up a little. It took a little extra rationalization to come up with why his heart was knocked a bit off balance, too. Surely he'd figure that out later.

"She takes this set six—two or better, then you're dancing to my tune for the duration."

Max wasn't entirely sure how he'd ended up with the short stick again. Something of which must have shown on his face.

Aurora patted his knee, a consoling expression on her face. If you discounted the twinkle in her eyes. "You did your best, dear. But she maneuvers people around for a living. You were outmatched."

Max ignored Tess as she folded her arms and settled back into her seat, clearly certain she'd bested him once again.

"Besides," Aurora added, "Gaby is the real winner either way, right? And isn't that all that matters?"

For a brief moment, Tess and Max traded glances
…
and in that moment, he wasn't sure either one of them could have answered that one convincingly.

Thankfully, they didn't have to. "She's serving," Aurora announced excitedly, bracelets jangling as she grabbed Max's hand in one of her own, and Tess's in the other. "Oh, I'm not sure I can take much more of this."

Less than twenty minutes later, an exultant Gabrielle Fontaine all but skipped to the net to shake hands with her opponent. Her defeated opponent. Then turned and shot the biggest smile of her career straight at her brother, and at Tess, as she pumped her fists over her head in victory. Max, Aurora, and
Tess were all on their feet cheering. The rookie upstart had made it into the second round. The notorious Graveyard Court had once again claimed another victim.

Max was so damn proud he barely heard the umpire calmly call the match. Repeating what he already knew. Miss Fontaine was the winner.

Two—six, six—one
…
six—one.

C
ha
pter
1
8

"
C
an you believe this?" Gaby was springing around Tess's room like a Ping-Pong ball on crack.

"Of course I can. You've had an awesome week. You're into the round of sixteen. And, oh yeah, you're beautiful, witty, and the camera adores you, What's not to love? Of course Chris Evert wants to interview you for
Tennis
magazine. She's no dummy."

Gaby's cheeks grew a bit pink at the praise, but she was way too wound up to be completely abashed. "God, I can't believe I'm into the second week of my first Wimbledon." She squealed a little and stamped her feet. "I mean, I can, I was there, but you know what I mean? Three rounds and I'm still in it."

Tess turned back to the mirror and finished applying her mascara. "Of course you are. And you earned it, every step. Took out Davina in three, the Romanian in straights, and yesterday—"

"I know!" Gaby crowed. "I beat my first top-ten player!" She
fell backward onto Tess's bed, arms spread-eagle, be
atific smile on her pretty face.
Then she hooted and drummed her heels on the bed. "Amelie so choked in the third."

Her enthusiasm was infectious and Tess found herself snorting a little, too. "Big time. But you're the one who put the fear in her." She turned away from the mirror and waved her mascara wand at the teenager. "Be warned, the word's going to get out now. I saw Elena Branch's coach scoping out your match."

"But she lost late yesterday, right? And he was probably scoping out Amelie, anyway, not me."

"Mauresmo's game is well-known, yours isn't. And you've been making quite a splash in London." As had Tess. She'd been careful not to overexpose Gaby, keeping her as focused as possible, but the media coverage had grown to include both the sports media and the more traditional straight news outlets. And Tess had taken full advantage.

The tabs were still paying attention, too, but in London, that was par for the course for any celebrity. Tim Henman, Greg Rusedski, and Andy Murray, the new young Scots player, had all bowed out early, leaving the British with no favorite sons to cheer on. In their place, they'd adopted underdog Gaby. Tess had long been a favorite here and, by extension and their working relationship, they'd happily embraced the rookie player, as well.

Keeping Gaby mostly under wraps hadn't kept Tess from making the media rounds on her own. She'd been a guest with the commentators for both the U.S. cable and major networks and the BBC, And had enjoyed herself immensely each time. To her surprise, and that of various network officials, she'd been something of a ratings boost. Apparently, her brand of somewhat sardonic—okay, snarky—color commentary had been a hit with the public. Some papers had quoted a few random listeners as saying they appreciated her insight and liked that she
had the courage to say what everyone was thinking, but was too afraid to put out there. Tess had no such fear. After all, at this point, what did she have to lose? There were no sponsors to piss off, no advertisers to threaten to pull her commercial endorsements. She was free to do and say what she wanted.

As long as it worked in the network's favor, anyway. And so far, so good.

"You have to be twice as prepared from here on in, Gaby, because they're going to come prepared for you. They know a little more about your game now. They know you've got an arsenal of weapons and that you're not afraid to try them all."

Gaby rolled over on her side, facing Tess. "I want to work on my serve-and-volley game more. It's been the only thing keeping me here this long, but I'm still having a hard time coming in really confidently After the interview later, let's get back out there. Sir Robin's court is lighted."

Tess looked at Gaby via the mirror. "You already had your practice session today, and a good wor
kout. We're not going to overdo.
"

She flopped onto her back again. "Now you sound like Max."

Just what Tess didn't need, a Max reminder. Like he hadn't already infiltrated her brain on a regular basis these past couple of days.

Wexley House was huge. They could stay here weeks and never run into each other. But she'd been far too aware he was under the same roof as she was. Especially at night, when she was lying in bed with a whole lot more important things to mull over than her increasingly confusing feelings for Max Fontaine. Much less remember things she had no business remembering.

Like the way his lips had curved that tiny bit as he stared down at her, all enigmatic and intense that night by the front door, the same night he and Gaby had moved in—what now
seemed like a million years ago. Or that time she'd caught him looking at her the day Gaby had won her first-round match, looking at her with such open curiosity, as if he'd never really seen her before. She couldn't get that sort of stunned look out of her mind. Wednesday hadn't helped matters any, either.

Gaby had taken out Sylvia Mariscu, the young Romanian who was trying to break into the top by doing well here.
Yeah
,
well, not this week,
Tess thought with a private smile. Gaby had seen to that. And when Gaby had fought a grueling second-set tiebreaker to take the match, Max had stood and dragged Tess, seated in the row behind him, to her feet as they hooted in victory
…
and then pulled her into a bear hug. That had been disconcerting enough, but instead of letting her go right away, there had been a moment—just a moment, but it was one of those moments, like in the first round, that just stuck, tunelessly, in her mind—when she'd started to pull away and he'd tightened his hold.

The look on his face had been one of surprise, like he hadn't quite meant to do that, but somehow had anyway. She'd intended to smile down at him, make some smart-ass remark, anything to regain her footing which had somehow, somewhere, gotten wobbly when he'd put his hands on her. Instead she'd just smiled down at him like some kind of lovestruck idiot with a goony smile plastered all over her face.

Then Aurora and Vivian had tugged her away and into another embrace as the celebration continued, mercifully ending the moment before she did something even more ridiculous— like the afternoon hadn't already been surreal enough. Even now she had to shake her head, remembering how it had started. The Godmothers Do Wimbledon.

She wasn't sure the members would ever recover after allowing Vivian DePalma on the grounds of the All England Club,
what with her rather
…
interesting tribute to their stuffy all-white rule. Somehow Tess didn't think the executive committee quite expected a wide-brimmed, feather-festooned day hat, with tiny strawberries fixed into the folds of tulle that circled the brim. A concoction that would have looked outrageous even at Royal Ascot, which was saying something.

As if that weren't head-turning enough, Vivian had added an eye-popping all-white ensemble featuring a fitted-bodice jacket—complete with a sparkling, diamond tennis-racket brooch on the lapel—worn ove
r her version of a retro, turn-
of-the-century ankle-length tennis skirt, and capped it off with strawberry-trimmed bobby socks and white leather sneakers. It was a wonder they'd let her back on the grounds again yesterday.

But even with all that distraction, and Gaby's exulted leaps as she celebrated on the court, it had been that moment in Max's arms, that brief look of surprise on his face as his hands had tightened on the small of her back, that stuck with her.

No, she didn't need any Max reminders.

"You were like the Tiger Woods of tennis," Gaby was saying. "All those stories about how you were out there for hours right after a match, practicing. So how come you won't give me a little more time? I mean, come on, what's the worst that can happen?"

"The worst that could happen is you end up like me. Injured to the point of no repair before your thirtieth birthday. Career over."

Gaby was silent for a moment and Tess continued with her primping. Finally, Gaby said, "Do you miss it really bad? Playing, I mean?"

Tess paused for a moment, eyeliner poised. "More than anything," she said finally, opting for the truth. Her voice was a bit
gruffer than she'd have liked, but Gaby had caught her a bit off guard. "It was my whole life."

"Is that why you're coaching me? To feel like you're still connected to it?"

It was an obvious question, but Tess wasn't quite prepared to answer it. Mostly because, now that it had been asked, she wasn't really sure what the truth was. "I'm not coaching you." She waved her eyeliner to emphasize her point. "No matter what your brother says. I'm just mentoring you a little, while you're in between coaches."

In the mirror, sh
e saw Gaby smile and roll to her
back again.

"What?" Tess asked. In her short time around the younge
r
Fontaine, she'd learned to be aware of that particular little smile.

"Nothing. I shouldn't be so nosy. Max is always telling me that."

"You won't know if you don't ask," Tess said automatically.

"Exactly!" Gaby agreed. "So don't think I'm not grateful for your mentoring." She made air quotes aro
und that last word. "It's just…"

Tess let the sentence dangle, knowing Gaby was purposely trying to bait her. As the silence spun out, she finally looked at Tess's reflection in the mirror. Tess merely arched an eyebrow back at her. One that she noticed needed a little evening up. Dammit, she'd never get out of here on time.

Gaby sighed. She was pretty good at manipulating situations to her advantage, but she had a way to go to catch up with Tess. "So, if you don't want to coach, what do you want to do now?"

Digging the tweezers out of her makeup bag, Tess went to work on plucking errant hairs. And very specifically avoided the very same question she'd avoided asking herself for the past few days. She was thrilled for Gaby, ecstatic, but watching her play had still taken an emotional toll on Tess. Not so much in
the moment, when the adrenaline was pumping. She'd managed to focus then, shut out her memories. But at night, lying in bed, it was a different story. Then she'd rep
lay the entire match over in her
mind, visualizing herself out there instead of Gaby, reliving how she'd have played each point. It was stupid torture and she knew it, but the
r
e it was anyway. And better than thinking about Max all through the night. Talk about torture. "Right now I want to finish getting ready. I have to be out of here in less than fifteen minutes."

"That's not an answer."

Tess smiled, checked her teeth for lipstick smears. "I know."

"But you said if you don't ask—"

"I never said you'd always get the information you seek, young Padawan." Gaby giggled and Tess focused on skimming a brush over her cheekbones, then turned around. "What do you think?"

"Wow." Gaby sat up. "You look hot."

Tess smiled and did a little curtsy. "Why thank you."

Gaby instantly forgot all about her own worries and became all sixteen-year-old teenager again. She scooted to a cross-legged position, eyes sparking with a whole new kind of nosy interest. "So, who's the hot date with? Trying to make Max jealous?"

"None of your—what did you just say?"

She smiled, all sly now. "You heard me."

Of course, Gaby had long since seen the headlines earlier in the week, the infamous photo of her and Max in the players' lounge. But both Tess and Max had, on separate occasions, explained to Gaby—in detail—that the papers had made something of nothing. Tess had even reminded Gaby why she'd charmed her way into the commentators' booth with Mary Carillo and John McEnroe on opening day. Well, the part of the reason that had pertained to Gaby and Max, anyway. She'd used
her time with the co
lorful hosts to shoot down rumor
s and hopefully shift the focus to Gaby's
game
and her hopes to do well in the tournament.

She'd have probably been more successful if the camera guys on the Graveyard Court that very same day hadn't caught her and Max staring intently at each other, smiling. She could have done without the permanent reminder herself.

"Why in the world would you ask something like that? Max and I are, at best, civil with each other. You know that better than anyone."

"He hated losing that bet to you."

"Hey, I've been gentle and he knows it. And if it wasn't for me, you wouldn't be talking to one Ms. Chris Evert here shortly. Speaking of which, shouldn't you be off somewhere primping, too?"

Gaby lifted an unconcerned shoulder. "No photographers this time, just an interview. I think we're doing it by phone."

"Nervous?"

Gaby just laughed. "I've given more interviews since you started coach—sorry, I mean, mentoring me," she added dryly. "I can't think of anything she could ask me that we haven't rehearsed, like, a million times."

Tess fished her small clutch out of the dresser and popped the lipstick she was using inside. "How are you holding up?"

Gaby flung herself back, arms wide, all dramatic once again. But grinning ear to ear. "I love all of it. I love the attention, I love signing autographs." She rolled her head toward Tess. "And most of all, I love winning!"