Not So Snow White (8 page)

Then again, maybe this client represented a lot of money to Glass Slipper and he was threatening to take his business elsewhere. Maybe Aurora was securing his continued patronage by making promises up front that she hadn't exactly backed up yet. Except, well, no. Because, first off, the godmothers were rolling in it. At this point in their lives, they only worked because they truly loved what they did. About which, one thing was very certain: They didn't roll over for anyone. Secondly, there was no other place like Glass Slipper for this guy to turn to instead. And
yet
…
it was past midnight and Aurora was obviously quite serious about wanting to make things work out with this man and his
protégée
.

Tess wondered if maybe popping in and seeing what was what would be a good idea after all. She could go back and open and shut the massive front door again, call out as if she'd just
gotten in. Aurora would certainly come out to welcome her home and Tess could work the conversation a little, get a feel for what was really going on.

"I have to think about Gaby," Mr. Deep Voice was saying, "and I just think the match you're suggesting couldn't be mo
r
e problematic. It's not like mixing oil and water, it would be like mixing oil and a lit match."

"You honestly think she would be a detriment to your sister? Encourage her bad behavior? I think the exact opposite would be the case. You don't know her, Max."

His sister,
huh?
Tess was scooting back to the front door while still trying to hear what they were saying.

"I know enough," he said. "Everyone does. And how can we not when she's been on the cover of every pop-culture magazine, every tabloid, every—"

"Propaganda, Max. You know better than to believe everything you read."

Tess had already frozen in place.
No.
Oh, hell no. Aurora would not do this, would never promise—would she? Because,
honestly
…
Tess Hamilton, the bad girl of tennis, mentor to the youth of today? What the hell was in Aurora's cognac? was what Tess wanted to know.

"I don't have to believe everything I read," this Max person responded. "I can go just by what I've seen in the accompanying photo spreads to know this would be a disaster in the making."

" 'A
disaster'?" Tess murmured, finding herself somewhat affronted by this stranger's negative opinion of her, despite the fact that she essentially completely agreed with him.

A tennis coach?

She'd never considered it. Quite a few of today's best coaches were former ranked players on the tour, albeit rarely as accomplished or highly ranked as she'd been. In her case it would almost
seem
…
a step down of sorts. Mostly because
players of her stature didn't have to work that hard to make a good living after retirement. "The ones who invested wisely, anyway," she muttered.

Still. She shook her head. No. She just wasn't seeing it. Not that she was averse to hard work. No one had worked harder on her game than she had. She wasn't afraid of work. But she'd pictured things like the charity benefits her father had suggested, or something similar. A spot on the board of directors, an ambassador of goodwill, that kind of thing. Even working with some sports company or other to help develop a new line of gear,
or…
well
…
something. Her face and name alone had been responsible for selling a lot of rackets and tennis skirts over the years. Surely she could turn that into something profitable now.

But coaching?

And even if she did know a thing or ten about the game, Aurora was also marketing her as some kind of spiritual mentor or head shrink or something to this kid.
Was she crazy!
Please. Tess might be tired of her own bad-girl image, but even she acknowledged that she was very likely the last person who should influence today's youth when it came to managing their off-court life. Hell, she couldn't even manage to hang on to her own fortune!

Oh, shit.
It all began to make a sickening kind of sense. Had that been where Aurora had gotten this harebrained idea? Had Bobby said something to Aurora at the party last week about Tess losing her Nike deal? If so, she was going to have to kill him. Which was a shame, really, with him only days away from his wedding and all. But honestly, if he'd sold her
out
…

Okay, so she couldn't even work up a good mad where Bobby was concerned. She knew if he had meddled, his heart had been in the right place. But that didn't help her much at the moment.

"Max, hear me out," Aurora pleaded calmly.

"If even half of what they've printed since she left the game is true, she's been far too busy hopscotching around the globe, spending he
r
fortune by day and partying by night, to be interested in having an actual job, much less one as demanding as what you're proposing."

Tess stiffened. It was one thing for her to question her own viability as a coach, but who the hell did this guy think he was, dismissing her like th
at? He didn't even know her, for
God's sake! Which was the other downfall of celebrity. People saw a few photo spreads, read a few articles, and felt like they were her best friend. Or worst enemy.

"Perhaps you weren't listening to me, dear," Aurora said, ever the unflappable one. A skill Tess was rapidly wishing she had developed somewhere along the way. Steam was already rising. "I wasn't proposing that Tess be involved with Gaby in any long-term relationship. Although if things worked out and you all wanted to continue on beyond Glass Slipper's involvement, far be it for me to stand in your way."

Tess had been ready to storm into the room and give them both a piece of her mind—a more gentle piece where Aurora was concerned, but a piece nonetheless. However, Aurora's last statement had her pausing just outside the door.

"I'm only offering you her guidance during your sister's stay at Glass Slipper."

"One week? What can Tess possibly offer her in such a short time?"

"Insight."

There was a pause, then Tess heard a long exhalation. Max's, no doubt. "She has to prepare. This is her second slam on the pro tour and—"

"I assured you Gabrielle would have ample time and access to grass courts for practice."

"She'll need me with her."

"We can discuss all that later, Are you saying you'll consider my offer?" There was a silence, then Aurora continued building on her apparent edge. "Just let the two of them talk with each other, I think you'll be pleased with the results, As for coaching her on her game, as well, I suppose that will be up to you and Tess to decide. It simply seems rather foolish not to avail yourself of what a person of her amazing stature would have to offer, even if only during Gabrielle's brief stay. Imagine having access to one of the most brilliant tennis minds of our day."

You
go,
Aurora, Tess thought, enjoying Aurora's very subtle set down of this Max character. Maybe she didn't have to storm the room after all. Of course, she was going to have to tell them both there was no way she was going to go along with this little deal. She had no time to baby-sit some headstrong tennis
ingénue
. These next few weeks were critical to her future, and though Aurora likely meant well, whatever compensation she intended to give to Tess in exchange for services rendered, it couldn't possibly be enough to be of any serious help. And there was the little matter of at least asking her up front whether she'd even consider such a deal.

"I appreciate what you're trying to do and, as I said, I'm not ungrateful," Max responded. "The kind of access you're offering is unprecedented, to be sure. On the court. However, you'll have to pardon me if I question letting Gaby talk to someone who hasn't exactly been a shining example of behavior modification off the court. To my way of thinking, she's the very last person Gaby needs to pattern herself after. It's bad enough that she constantly throws Tess Hamilton in my face as an example of why her sort of temperament isn't detrimental to her game."

Tess smiled. Ah. So the sister was a fan, was she? Despite herself, she was intrigued. If for no other reason, she was tempted to take this task on just to shut this guy down. Maybe she did have a
thing or two she could say to this Gaby and set her straight about the pitfalls of fame, fortune (or lack thereof), and celebrity. Besides, it was only for a week, and all she had to do was talk to the kid? Well
…
she could probably work that in. What the hell, right? And if it would twist this narrow-minded jerk's boxers into a knot and make him think twice before condemning a person he'd never even met, well then, more the better.

Tess Hamilton, rabble-rouser. Her smile grew to a grin. Perhaps some things would never change.

She pushed the door open and stepped into the room, her confident, grand-slam-winning smile plastered all over her face. She strode across the room, stopping directly in front of the man presently standing next to Aurora. The one currently choking on his cog
nac. Very satisfying entrance, r
eally.

In her peripheral vision, she caught the pink that rose to Aurora's cheeks, but she directed her attention to Max. She and Aurora would have a little chat later on. In the interim, it was time for a little fun.

"Hello," she said to him, smile still in place as she extended her hand. "You must be Gabrielle's brother, Max. I'm Tess Hamilton. I understand I'll be working with your sister."

Chapter 6

"
U
h
…
hi." And after that scintillating conversational retort, Max found himself suddenly shaking hands with the former number-one player in the
world and holder of ten grand-
slam singles titles, wondering exactly just how much of their conversation she'd overheard.

Good job, Fontaine, very
smooth
.

"Hello," she replied, sunny, open, and very direct. Her handshake was firm. And though he'd known she was tall, in heels she was almost as tall as he was at just a few inches over six feet. Very imposing. That dress she had on didn't help, either. If the way the stretchy black fabric clung to her tight curves was any indication, she was also still quite fit despite being out of action for almost two years.

At the moment, however, he was mostly distracted by her face. Sparkly green eyes, white toothy smile, confident bordering on cocky. He'd seen that same face, that same exact expression, winking back at him from countless magazine covers. And
yet, in person, she seemed far more guileless, far less calculating, though he wouldn't go so far as to say she appeared innocent or naive. She just didn't come off as brash and brassy as he'd expected her to be. In fact, her demeanor, despite her party dress, was polite bord
ering on downright professional.

"Not to be rude," she said, "but I couldn't help overhearing a bit of your conversation as I came in. I think it's wonderful that you're trying to help your sister. It's a big, scary world out there on tour. Even for someone who is
…
how did you say it? Not a 'shining example of behavior modification'?" She shrugged.

He winced.

"I get quoted wrong all the time, but I think it was something like that. If you'll pardon my being so bold," she went on, "I think I could probably find one or two pieces of wisdom to impart to Gabrielle." Her grin widened. "I understand we have a lot in common. Good for her."

Okay, so maybe she was a little brash. More than a little. This was more in line with what he'd expected. And a sudden resurgence of confidence rushed in—okay, crept in—as he regained his footing. "I appreciate the offer, I do. And I hope you won't take this the wrong way," he said, fighting the urge to down the rest of his cognac in one swallow. The woman had presence. In spades. It was like the room had been suddenly amped up in some way, air particles more electrified or something. He'd all but forgotten there was anyone else in the room. "Gaby idolizes you, and it's because of that, that I have some concerns. As impressive a career as you've had, actually because it's so incredible, I'm afraid that you giving her any advice would come across to her as some kind of tacit approval of the temperamental way she behaves. As a dominant junior player, she's already been the subject of some fairly intense scrutiny. Now is the time to step in and give her the tools she needs to
handle that kind of pressure off court so it doesn't affect her game on court."

Aurora stepped clos
er
. "Given the way Gabrielle pushed Serena to that third set in Paris last month, I understand your concern. She could do well here. Even without her coach
,"
she added pointedly, not for a second giving up the battle. She laid her hand on Tess's arm and squeezed. "Of course, no one knows better than Tess how fast things can happen on tour in terms of that sudden avalanche of interest from the media. The British press can be rather intense."

Max kept his attention on Tess. It wasn't all that difficult. "I appreciate that you have a wealth of experience in that area and probably some very good advice on how to handle it. But I'd rather encourage her to find a way to cut down on the histrionics on court, focus on her game, so she can stay out of the spotlight off court. I don't want her to need your advice on how to handle the paparazzi. I'd rather steer her completely away from that kind of distraction."

Tess paused for a moment and he was half-afraid he'd seriously offended her. Then a split second later she tilted her head back and laughed. It was a full-bodied, deep-from-the-belly kind of laugh, which was as surprisingly infectious as the rest of her. She was a lot to take in. And even more to take on. It exhausted him just thinking about it.

"You can't be that naive," she said, when she finally caught her breath.

He noted from the co
rn
er of his eye that Aurora's smile had broadened and her eyes were bright as she watched the byplay between the two. Well, of course she was pleased. She was watching Tess play him like a fiddle, which meant she suspected she'd ultimately get her way. He wished he could say with any amount of confidence that she was wrong. But as he was standing there,
stupidly saying absolutely nothing in the face of Tess's mocking laughter, he was beginning to feel both outnumbered and outplayed. Naive, indeed.

"Don't you realize that you can't switch off your sister's temperament on court like some kind of lightbulb
?
I'll admit, I haven't seen her play; I missed her match in Paris, but I've heard about her, about her game. If she's truly anything like I was, it's that ve
r
y fire and determination that will keep her head in the game. Turn that off and she'll be useless out there." She laid her hand on his arm now and it was like an electrical current shot straight up to his shoulder. Any chance he'd had of regrouping and regaining the upper hand was, at the very least, temporarily derailed. And he was probably being somewhat kind to himself with that assessment.

"You're trying to protect her, which is admirable," Tess continued, "and I know you only have he
r
best interests at heart. But she's already who she is, to some degree, anyway, and if you want her to have success on court, then maybe instead of trying to extinguish her fire, you should begin to think how best to harness all that energy so she can be the success everyone seems to think she'll be."

"That's exactly what I'm trying to do."

"But you're going about it the wrong way. You want to contain it, control it, modulate it. It doesn't work that way."

"Sure it does. It's called maturing, growing up."

"In a sense," she said agreeably, surprising him. "If she were floundering that would be one thing, but it sounds like she has a strong mental game already. Why don't you give her some credit that maybe she's already harnessing it, already directing it in a healthy way."

"By slamming her rackets and shooting tirades to the line judges?"

Tess just grinned.

Max rolled his eyes. "It's not something to be proud of."

"Oh, I don't know. Venting my wrath on a hapless racket or two was exactly what I needed to get over a bad shot or bad line call so I could return my focus to the point at hand, and my opponent across the net. If I kept it inside, it would have distracted me for who knows how many points, and just like that it'd be game, set, match to my opponent."

Which was exactly, almost verbatim, what Gaby had told him. Though he'd be damned before he shared that information. More ammunition Tess Hamilton did not need. "Other players manage to find a way to contain themselves and still stay focused. She's young. She can learn to do that. And it will help her all the way around, on the court, and off. It just seems to me—"

"It seems to me that you haven't a clue what makes your siste
r
tick. Obviously you're a very contained sort who doesn't understand us more emotional types."

What the hell did that
mean
?
He found himself somewhat put out by her rash assessment. Like he was a tight ass or something. Gaby's words from earlier in the week echoed through his mind. Well, they were both wrong. He was far from being that guy. He could be very spontaneous if properly motivated. Just not with his temper. Or with scheduling. Or, okay ever, really, if he were honest. But that was because he had to be a good role model for Gabrielle. He was all she had.
Otherwise he'd be a lot more…
Jesus. Maybe they were right. He really was not liking this conversation.

"She is who she is, Max. Yes, for some people, tossing a racket is a bad thing. For some players, that's when they lose focus, not regain it. But for a very few of us, it works in the opposite way."

"That doesn't make it right," he insisted. "For her, anyway."

Tess's smile shifted, became less friendly. "You're embarrassed. That's what this is all about, isn't it? It's not about shaping Gaby's temperament so she handles her life better, it's about modifying her behavior so she what, acts like a lady at all times? So she doesn't make you look bad?" There was an obvious edge in her tone and it pricked at him.

"I'd like to think of it as instilling the principles of good sportsmanship. You don't just get to act like a spoiled brat, on court or off, and claim it's what you have to do to keep your head in the game. She needs to grow up and learn to handle the life she's stepping into. And, if you'll beg my absolute pardon, perhaps you should have, as well."

He set his glass down on the closest flat surface and turned to Aurora while he still held on to some semblance of control over his temper. No one pushed his buttons that easily. Except for his sister. Which made his decision about all this quite easy, as it turned out. "I very much appreciate what you're trying to do for Gaby. But I think perhaps this entire idea was a mistake. I'm really sorry you've gone to all this trouble, but I'm going to look elsewhere for the help I think she needs."

"You're going to do what, then?" Tess interjected. "Take a kid who doesn't even have a regular coach at the moment, and send her to a sports shrink? Oh yeah, that'll help her ten days out from her first Wimbledon. Screw with her head right now and you can pretty much kiss her chances good-bye. But hey, at least you won't have to worry about that off-court pressure; the press here will chew her up and spit her out during the first round, then forget all about her. Because she won't make it to the second round."

He grabbed his jacket off the back of the nearby sofa. "I can see myself out," he said tightly. "Have a good evening."

"I can help your sister, Max," Tess called after him. "And I'll bet when she finds out that you turned down the chance for he
r
to work with me, you'll need a whole hell of a lot more than a sports shrink to get her temper under control."

Of course she didn't let him go without a parting shot. Of course not. Tess Hamilton always had the last shot. And, as usual, it was a winner. He knew he should just keep walking, out the door, through the front entrance, and straight to his car.
Don't let her goad you.
But there he was, turning back at the door, foolishly trying to hit a clean return when he knew he didn't have a prayer of landing the shot. Or even getting it over the proverbial net. "I'm all she has. I may not always make the right decisions, but everything I do, I do with her best interests in mind, and at heart. And so far, we seem to be doing quite well without your input. I'm sure we'll muddle through this tournament without you, too." He shifted his gaze to Aurora, who wasn't looking nearly as perturbed by all this as he'd have expected. Possibly because, having witnessed this exchange, she'd reached the same conclusion he already had. Oil and matches don't mix. "Thank you. For everything. I do appreciate it."