That Carolina Summer (North Carolina) (5 page)

“Marsha, be realistic.” Annette contained her exasperation to appeal to her sister's common sense. “It's the oldest game around. A boy chases a girl until she catches him, don't you know that? You and I are the only ones who know that I'm chasing Josh Lord. You can bet I'm not going to let him find it out. He's going to think it's all his idea."

“But you're tricking him into thinking that, and it isn't fair,” she protested.

Annette sighed and shook her head. “All's fair in love and war—haven't you heard that before, either?"

“Yes, I've heard it,” Marsha retorted in a rare moment of irritability. “Sometimes, Annette, I think you keep a file of all these sayings so you can drag out whatever one happens to apply to a situation so you can justify what you're doing."

For a minute Annette just stared at her, a little dumbfounded. Finally she said, “You are my sister, Marsha, and I love you dearly. There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you.” She paused and gave a baffled shake of her head. “But sometimes it's hard for me to believe that anyone so incredibly naive could be related to me. Marsha, you are really priceless at times."

Marsha drew back to eye her sister in confusion. “Why?"

“Because you are sitting here lecturing me about chasing men—as if I have a long history of pursuing them. Have you ever known me to do it before?” Annette questioned.

“No,” she admitted with a lame shrug. Annette had always been popular with boys. Marsha couldn't recall a single time when her sister had stayed home for the lack of a date, but neither could she remember Annette's actively seeking a boy out.

“Doesn't that convince you that Josh is a special case?” Annette reasoned.

“I guess so.” Marsha found herself agreeing and silently marveled at her sister's knack of twisting people around to her way of thinking. She was incredibly persuasive.

“Then, instead of being so negative, why don't you come up with some constructive suggestions?” Annette appealed for her help. “Girls are always accidentally-on-purpose turning up where the boys are. I haven't had much luck lately at the swimming pool or the jogging path, so I'd really appreciate some new ideas."

Marsha thought for a minute, then offered, “What about where he works? Does he have an office somewhere?"

“He not only has an office, he has an entire office building,” Annette informed her with an expression of futility. “I made a couple of discreet inquiries and got the address from the hotel operator. Yesterday morning I hired a taxi and went by it. That's why I was late meeting you guys,” she explained.

“And?” Marsha prompted.

“And the building sits there all by itself, practically,” Annette sighed. “There isn't a single shop or store within three blocks of it. I wouldn't have a believable excuse for being there. It isn't a place you just ‘happened by.’”

“It doesn't sound like it,” She murmured. “If we eliminate the office, what else is there? We know he jogs and swims. What about other hobbies or sports?"

Annette brightened at the question and nibbled at her lip. “I think you're on the right track,” she murmured.

“Maybe he plays golf,” Marsha suggested. “There's a course adjacent to the hotel."

“He probably does. The problem is, I don't,” she said with a rueful smile. “And I'm not about to volunteer to caddy for him.” She snapped her fingers. “I've got it! The tennis courts here at the hotel! Josh is bound to play!"

She bounded out of the chair, mindless of her aching heel, and rushed over with one shoe off and one shoe on to hug her sister. “If it hadn't been for you, I might not have thought of it. Thanks!"

“How does that help?” Marsha didn't understand and frowned at Annette as she hobbled away from her. “You can't spend all your time hanging around the tennis courts waiting for him to show up."

Midway to the bathroom and its shower, Annette halted to explain, “That's the best part. I don't have to hang around the tennis courts. Anybody who wants to play has to reserve the use of the court. All I have to do is get a peek at the reservation list and I'll know the exact day and time Josh will be there."

It sounded simple, but Marsha knew better. “And just how do you intend to get a look at that reservation list?"

“If you get dressed while I shower, you can come with me and I'll show you,” Annette declared on an infectious note of confidence.

Marsha was half-convinced that her older sister was a bulldozer made out of velvet. Somehow Annette managed to push obstacles aside as if they didn't exist. For the past ten minutes she had been talking to the tennis pro on duty about the selection of times the courts were available in the next few days—talking and joking with him as if they were old friends, that is.

When the phone in the tennis shop rang, Annette casually turned the reservation book around so she could read it, and smiled at the pro. “Go ahead and answer that. I'll look over these free times and decide which one we want to reserve."

He agreed without any hesitation and moved to the end of the counter to pick up the phone. Annette slid a twinkling glance of triumph at Marsha and began looking over the list. Josh Lord's name practically leaped off the page across from the five o'clock slot the next afternoon.

When Marsha noticed that the court next to the one Josh had reserved wasn't booked, she murmured in a low undertone, “You lead a charmed life, Annette."

“I do, don't I?” Annette admitted that luck played an important role on this occasion. The subject was shelved as the tennis pro hung up the phone and came back. “Mark me down for tomorrow afternoon at four-thirty.” She gave him her name and room number. “And we'll need to rent some tennis balls and rackets."

“Sure thing,” he nodded. “Any preference in equipment?"

“No.” Annette shook her head with indifference. “Whatever you have on hand is fine. Marsha and I aren't particular.” She pushed away from the counter to leave while Marsha stared at her in openmouthed astonishment. “See you tomorrow."

They were outside on the sidewalk before Marsha recovered her voice. “When did I say anything about playing tennis?"

“I took it for granted that you would,” Annette admitted, a little startled that her sister appeared unwilling. “It's a trifle difficult to play tennis by yourself. What did you think I was going to do?"

“I thought you were just going to find out when Josh was going to be there, then drop by,” she replied.

“What would I do? Watch him play?” Annette scoffed. “That's a bit obvious, Marsha. If I'm playing tennis I have a reason to be there—and he can't be sure I'm only there to see him."

“But I told you I didn't want to get involved in any of your schemes,” Marsha reminded her.

“All you're going to do is play tennis, for heaven's sake!” she declared in mild exasperation, shaking her head.

“But I know the way you work,” Marsha countered. “It all starts out so innocent. You involve people on the very edges of your plans—and before they know it they're in over their heads."

“You're exaggerating, Marsha,” she dismissed the statement.

“No, I'm not,” her sister replied with the certainty that came from past experience. “Even if Joshua Lord notices you tomorrow, I don't see what good it's going to do you. He thinks you're seventeen. He isn't going to take you seriously until he finds out you're older. You really should tell him before it goes any further."

Annette stopped, striving for patience. “And just what am I supposed to do? Should I walk up to him and whip out my driver's license, birth certificate and passport, then say, ‘Look, Josh, I'll be twenty in four more days'?"

“How will you tell him?” Marsha asked, since that was obviously not her sister's choice.

“I'm not sure yet,” she admitted. “At the moment, being seventeen in his eyes is an advantage."

Marsha frowned. “I missed something. How is it an advantage?"

“I wouldn't even want to try to guess how many twenty-year-old girls he's dated in his lifetime, but how often do you think he's been attracted to a supposedly seventeen-year-old girl? Right now I stand out in a crowd. I'm not just another blonde in his life,” Annette explained.

“I hadn't thought of it that way,” her sister admitted.

“I have.” Annette started walking again. She was wearing backless sandals so she wouldn't aggravate the blistered sore on her right heel. “And that's the reason I don't mind being seventeen for a while longer.” She paused, then said, “Since I failed to ask you earlier, will you play tennis with me tomorrow?"

Marsha glanced at her and smiled ruefully. “I don't know why you bothered to ask. You know I will—although I probably need my head examined for agreeing."

THE HOURS Annette had spent at the swimming pool had tanned her skin a rich golden color and added a few platinum streaks to her hair. The result was a perfect foil for her short white tennis outfit with its black trim. Annette had deliberately booked the adjacent court a half hour earlier than Josh, so she would be there playing when he arrived. Her side of the net allowed her to face the direction that he would come.

As the time grew closer for Josh to arrive, she started getting nervous, wondering if he'd canceled or changed the hour. She nearly missed the easy lob from Marsha and tried to bring her attention back to the uneven game. They were in the middle of a set when Annette saw Josh approaching the court, accompanied by one of the hotel's tennis pros. Her heart did a little tumble at the sight of him in white tennis shorts and a knit shirt stretched tautly across his chest. The sun glinted copper bright on his dark hair.

A faintly bemused smile played at the corners of his hard mouth when Josh recognized her. Annette smashed Marsha's lob to the opposite corner, scoring an easy point.

“That's game!” she declared, even though it wasn't, and trotted around the net to take a break and change sides.

“Are you sure?” Marsha frowned, standing flat-footed at the baseline. “I thought it—"

“That's game,” Annette repeated, and quelled her sister's protest with a silencing look. Marsha glanced around, noting Josh's arrival for the first time.

“I guess you're right.” She understood the reason for Annette's unusual scoring and didn't dispute the claim.

Annette walked to the corner near the high fence of green mesh and picked up the towel she'd left with her things. She pretended to wipe away nonexistent perspiration from her face and neck as Josh, in the next court, unzipped the case protecting his racket. Tension licked along her nerve ends while she waited for him to glance her way. When he did turn his dark gaze toward her, the chiseled planes of his face seemed to fill her vision to the exclusion of anything else.

“Fancy meeting you here.” She feigned a mild surprise to see him.

“I have the strange feeling that you're following me,” Josh remarked with an astutely sweeping glance. “I wonder why that is?"

“I was just going to accuse you of following me,” Annette countered with a husky laugh. “I was here first."

“Appearances can be deceiving.” He wasn't convinced.

Annette decided that the best way to allay his suspicions was to confront them. “I'm not about to deny that I think you're a very attractive man.” The way he was affecting her practically made it an understatement. Her stomach was all tied in knots and it felt as if her heart were in her throat. “But I guess I'm a little old-fashioned."

“Oh?” The raised eyebrow asked for an explanation of that comment.

“Yes. You see, I prefer a man to do the chasing.” Annette's smoke-colored eyes looked at him with absolute innocence as she turned away while she was still in possession of the last word. She walked back to her court and called across the net to Marsha. “Are you ready?” At the affirmative nod from her sister, she batted the ball to her. “It's your service."

Annette had a difficult time concentrating on her game. She was more interested in the tennis match being played on the adjacent court. Marsha was an adequate player, but she wasn't a challenging opponent. And Josh was a powerful distraction.

The match ended with Annette the easy winner. She would have liked to stay and watch Josh, but as she had pointed out to Marsha yesterday, it was simply too obvious. Plus, she was plagued by the knowledge this hadn't been a very successful meeting. As she and Marsha gathered their things to leave, Annette tried to think of a way to salvage something from this missed opportunity.

Her glance lighted on Marsha's tennis sweater, a twin to her own except that hers was trimmed in black and Marsha's had navy blue braid. She froze for an instant as an idea formed.

“Marsha, is your room key in your sweater pocket?” Annette asked with an eager rush.

“Yes. Why?” Marsha was absently curious. “Did you forget yours?"

“No, I have mine,” Annette assured her. “As we leave the courts I want you to accidentally drop your sweater. You can't know that you dropped it."

“Then why am I doing it?” Marsha frowned.

“Because I want you to leave it behind—with the key in it—so Josh can find it when he leaves, and return it,” Annette explained.

“You can't be serious.” Marsha stared at her, fully aware that Annette was perfectly serious. “I came along with you this afternoon just to play tennis. You didn't say anything about losing my sweater."