Crossing the Line Read online

  Just frigging great.

  "You weren't wrong," I said, ducking past her before I hauled her into my arms. "Drink?"

  "No thanks." She crossed her arms and perched on the arm of the sofa. The same sofa we'd had sex on last night. A vivid image of the two of us flashed in my head. Not helping. "So what's your problem? You hanging out with me shouldn't change anything—"

  "Bullshit." I grabbed a bottled water from the fridge, twisted the top off and chugged half of it. "You're not that naive. You must have some idea how pissed off your dad would be to find you with me."

  I slammed the bottle down on the kitchen counter, spilling the remainder of the water. "Listen up, Princess, because I'm only going to say this once. I'm on my last chance here. Screw up and I'm done. No more tennis career. So the fact Dirk is your dad" —I shook my head— "it's a pretty big fucking deal."

  Her shoulders slumped. "I'm twenty-one. I can date whoever I want."

  My upper lip curled. "So tell me, how many tennis jocks have you dated that weren't handpicked by your old man?"

  Her hesitation told me all I needed to know before she answered. "He wants me to be happy."

  "As long as it's someone he approves of, right?" I thumped a fist against my chest. "Me? Your dear old dad would have a shitfit if he knew we'd hooked up last night. No fucking way would he approve of me."

  Her mouth twisted into a stubborn grimace. "You don't know that. My dad's fair. He wouldn't have given you a spot here otherwise."

  A derisive snort burst out of me. "The only reason your dad gave me a spot here is because my dad probably promised him a sizeable donation to expand the courts or clubhouse or whatever."

  Her eyes narrowed. "You don't have a very high opinion of people, do you?"

  "Let's just say where I'm from, I've seen it all. Mixed with all types. Rich or poor, educated or dumb-arses, people are mostly lying scum." I shrugged. "So excuse me for doubting your dad's motives for accepting me here."

  I could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she thought up a suitable response to my bluntness. But I wasn't in the mood for any more of her trite platitudes. The sooner I stopped noticing the way her nipples were outlined beneath her tight red T shirt, or the way her denim mini ended mid-thigh, or the way she absentmindedly nibbled on her bottom lip when she was thinking, the better.

  "Look, last night was great." I could've sworn her lower lip wobbled so I rushed on. "You're great, but I can't afford to piss off your dad and I need to focus on my tennis."

  "So that's it?" She spoke too softly, too calmly. I didn't trust women when they were like this. My mum used to be the same when she was livid about something. The eerie calm usually preceded a shit-storm. "I don't get a say in any of this?"

  "What's to say?" I'd have to be harsher to drive her away before I did something stupid, like relent. "You wanted a little walk on the wild side last night. You got it. I think you're hot and I took advantage of what you were offering. Let's just leave it at that."

  She stood, even her posture unnaturally relaxed and calm. "What if I say no?"

  "Fuck, Mia, what do you want from me?" I dragged my hand through my hair, a habit I thought I'd conquered a long time ago, around the time one of the bouncers at Mum's club in the Cross had whipped my arse for being a 'pansy’. Lessons like that stuck.

  "I want us to be friends," she said, holding her hands out to me like she had nothing to hide. "Discounting the sex last night, which we both know was amazing, I thought we connected."

  She glanced away, as if nervous. "I don't have many friends in these parts anymore. Since I went away to college, I only vacation at home occasionally. Most of the tennis crowd who train here are transient and the rest are fake schmoozers who want to suck up to me to get to my dad." Her fingers clenched into fists. "I hate it."

  "That's why you targeted me last night, wasn't it? Because I didn't look like one of your dad's hangers-on?"

  She nodded. "I already told you that. But it was more …" She wrinkled her nose. "You were partially right about me. All that stuff you said when we first met? I am daddy's little girl. It's been the two of us since Mom died. We're close and he's cool. But because we don't see each other much these days, when we do, he smothers me."

  "So you think he'd approve of you being friends with a bum like me?"

  "You're not a bum." Her lips curved into the smile I remembered from last night, the smile that could slay a guy and make him doing crazy things: like say fuck the altruistic crap and let's go to bed. "You're different."

  "Which is why you targeted me in the first place."

  "Yeah." Her gaze locked on mine, willing me to believe we could do this. "But then you started talking and that Aussie accent, plus the resemblance to the Hemsworths, did the rest."

  "You're obsessed," I said, grinning like a loon and enjoying our reversion to teasing way too much to be good for me.

  "Yeah, but not just with them." She walked across the small lounge to lay a hand on my chest, directly over my heart. "I'll have a chat with my dad. Tell him we're friends. But that means we need to do some friendly stuff together."

  "We got pretty friendly last night," I said, willing my heart to stop bucking like a wild thing beneath her palm.

  To my surprise, and delight, she blushed. I didn't think girls did that any more. "Have you been to LA before?"

  I shook my head. "Boys from the Cross don't get to travel much, let alone overseas. Every cent Mum earned was poured back into the club to keep it viable. And most of the money I earned went to her and to fund my tennis."

  Surprisingly, she didn't ask questions or delve into my past. Brownie points for her.

  "In that case, how would you like a guided tour of all the LA hot spots? Hollywood Boulevard. Melrose. Beverly Hills. The works." Her palm pressed harder against my chest. "It's what friends do. Hang out. Have fun."

  I was tempted. Seriously tempted. I'd seen nothing of LA, bar the crazy freeways from LAX to Santa Monica. Hell, I hadn't even seen anything of the area surrounding the tennis academy.

  "If I agree to this, we're just friends, okay?" I managed to keep a straight face while delivering the rest. "No funny business."

  Her smile was radiant. "You thought what we did last night was funny?"

  I waggled my finger under her nose. "And stop talking about it, okay?"

  "Why?" Her gaze dipped to below my waist. "You have a boner?"

  I stepped away before she could feel how right she was. "Friends don't talk to each other like that."

  She hesitated, before nodding slowly. "Okay. Friends it is. I can do friends."

  "Good, because it's all I'm offering, Mia."

  It had to be, despite every instinct in my worthless body screaming to grab hold of this incredibly spirited girl and never let go.

  Chapter 11

  KYE

  I didn't go for touristy stuff as a rule. Hated the rubberneckers who trawled the Cross, torn between gawking at the trannies and avoiding the hawkers trying to entice them into peep shows.

  But the opportunity to see some of LA while I was here, especially through Mia's eyes, was too good to pass up.

  I'd turned into a soft-cock when she'd given me that spiel about being friends. I shouldn't have bought into it. Should've made a firmer stand and kept my distance. Instead, we'd spent the last few hours visiting places I'd seen on TV: Rodeo Drive, Melrose, Sunset Strip, Kodak Theatre.

  Interesting, but not half as interesting as the woman by my side. She'd recited funny anecdotes and teased and bumped me with her hip, like friends do. The decidedly unfriendly thoughts running through my head? Major pain in the arse.

  Last stop was the Hollywood sign. Maybe I'd grow some balls and reiterate how this friends thing wasn't working for me.

  It would kill me to do it, considering she'd been so nice to me tonight and hadn't crossed the line. The fact I wanted to leap so far over that frigging line wasn't helping.

  "Shouldn't we be closer to the si
gn?"

  She shook her head, not taking her eyes off the road. "It's not worth trekking up Mount Lee. The trails are tough and there's a razor-wire fence which means even if we did make the climb, we can't get within twenty feet of it."

  "Seriously? Then that's the biggest piece of false advertising I've ever seen." I snorted. "Everyone thinks the Hollywood sign is LA. It's iconic. And you're telling me we can't even get near it?"

  "Yep." She shot me a cheeky grin. "I'll make it up to you by throwing in my Santa Monica special tour."

  "Let me guess. We can't get near the pier unless we swim with sharks?"

  She chuckled. "Funny guy." She jerked her head toward the window. "Take a look. We're almost at the corner of Glen Holly and Beachwood Canyon Drive, which means you'll get to see your precious sign."

  "But I want to get near it." At that moment I caught sight of the gigantic HOLLYWOOD sign and had to admit, it was impressive.

  If the Sydney Harbor Bridge and Opera House defined Sydney for tourists, this sign was it for me in LA. I wouldn't forget my first glimpse of it. Especially as Mia had pulled over in a secluded spot, killed the engine and was currently staring at me with more than friendship in her eyes.

  "No," I said, getting out of the car before I did something monumentally stupid, like hauling her into my lap.

  She stepped out of the driver's side and followed me. "I didn't ask a question for you to refuse."

  I sank onto a log and dropped my head into my hands. "You didn't have to. You're easier to read than a Penthouse."

  She wrinkled her nose. "I thought we've had a nice evening. If you've read more into it than there is—"

  "I may be many things, an idiot isn't one of them." I glared at her, wishing she'd show some reaction other than radiating calm, which only served to rile me further.

  "Never said you were." She touched my knee and I jumped like she'd tasered me. "What's really wrong?"

  It wouldn't do any good to articulate half the confusion I was feeling but odds were Mia had inherited her dad's persistence, the same dogged determination that had earned Dirk fifteen Grand Slams in a row.

  "I'm having a hard time keeping my hands off you," I muttered, curling my fingers into my palms to stop from demonstrating. "The only option we have is to be friends but after last night … what happened between us …" I shook my head. "It's harder than I thought it'd be."

  She patted my knee before removing her hand. It should've been a condescending gesture. Coming from Mia, it seemed comforting. "I get where you're coming from, wanting to be just friends. I'm a complication you don't need."

  She sounded so forlorn I wanted to hug her. "If my dad has any say in it, this time next year you'll be on the ATP circuit, then it's the Slams after that."

  Wish I had her confidence. "I haven't even done the pro tour yet, and that's the only way to earn early world ranking points."

  "You're being fast-tracked if you're at Cresswell Academy." She turned to face me and I almost choked on my next breath. The admiration blazing from her steady gaze made me feel like I'd already won Wimbledon. "You think you're at the academy because your dad promised money to mine? Well, here's a newsflash, hotshot. My dad doesn't need money. And he wouldn't accept you just to settle an old score between buddies." She poked me in the chest. "My dad trains winners. Grand Slam winners. He wouldn't risk his reputation on anything less."

  As Mia's heartfelt words sunk in, for the first time since I'd arrived in LA, I allowed myself to hope.

  I wanted to play shit-hot tennis to repay my dad for the faith he'd shown in me over the last seven years, since he'd discovered I existed. He could've wimped out, considering I was a major pain in the arse. He didn't. And with my latest indiscretion, being booted out of Australia's number one academy, he'd really come through for me.

  But what if I was good enough to satisfy my toughest critic, me?

  "Thanks," I said, awkwardly reaching for her hand and grabbing it before I thought better of it. "Though you know you've just given me another reason why we can't be more than friends, right?"

  She squeezed my hand, and held on tight. It felt fucking great. "I'm hoping once you get your head around the fact my dad sees you as a top tennis prospect and you've earned your spot, there may be room for me in your life too."

  I swear my chest ached at her honesty. Not many women would take the risk of putting themselves out there, especially after I'd already dropkicked her heart. But I couldn't afford to waver. There was too much riding on this.

  "Mia, we've only had one night together. How could you possibly want me in your life?"

  My thumb absentmindedly traced circles on the back of her hand as I tried to formulate the words not to hurt her. "I'm not that much of a bastard to suggest what happened between us was a one night stand only, because we both know it went beyond that, but tennis is my life."

  I drew in a deep breath and let it out. "It's all I have left."

  Fuck, had I said that out loud? It's how I felt but I didn't need Mia seeing me at my most vulnerable. No one saw beneath my carefully cultivated tough guy image. Ever. So what was it about this woman that made me want to blurt my deepest, darkest secrets after knowing her twenty-four hours?

  "What about your dad?" She sounded so sad—for me—I felt obliged to reassure her.

  "We're not that close." I released her hand, knowing if I kept holding on, I'd never want to let go. "He's a mega TV star in Oz. Household name. Didn't know I existed 'til Mum died and her lawyer contacted him because it was stipulated in her will." I pinched the bridge of my nose. "She'd left the strip club to me but wanted Dad to be executor and manage it 'til I turned eighteen."

  Her eyes widened. "You run a strip club?"

  "Hell no." I scowled, not wanting to be reminded of the place that had ultimately cost Mum her life.

  Not from the drugs or prostitution that was synonymous with Kings Cross, but from her dedication to proving she could be a bona fide businesswoman above the sleaze surrounding her. Ultimately, the manic hours she worked and her obsession with making money to provide a secure future for me had cost her. She'd dropped dead of a heart attack at forty-one. "Dad sold the club and invested the money for me. Sent me to boarding school 'til I turned eighteen, then I bought a small flat in Bondi with the cash."

  "Sounds like your dad cares about you." Her severe stare held recrimination. "Which means you're far from alone."

  "You wouldn't understand," I said, wishing I'd never started down the road to deep and meaningful. "Your dad has probably adored you since the day you were born. Mine only does what he does out of obligation."

  To her credit, she didn't try to dispute it. Instead, she gnawed on her bottom lip, a habit I happened to like, considering I got to stare at that lush, full lip and remember how it had tasted.

  "You've had it tough but you're wrong, you're not alone," she said, daring me to disagree. "For as long as you're here in LA, you've got me."

  My mouth curled into a reluctant smile, as I couldn't help but admire her tenacity. She'd be an amazing girlfriend. Loyal and protective and loving. Pity I'd never find out.

  "So you're my new BFF, huh?"

  "And don't you forget it." Her shoulder bumped mine and damned if I didn't want to blurt that I'd never had a best friend and I'd be honored to have her as mine.

  A loud rumble of thunder made her jump a second before the heavens opened up and dumped a deluge of rain that was almost monsoonal.

  "Oh my God, run for the car," she said, leaping to her feet and taking off at a sprint.

  I didn't need any encouragement to follow but by the time we'd travelled the forty meters, we were soaked to the skin.

  "There are blankets in the back seat. Get in," she said, all but shoving me into the back seat as she tumbled in behind me and slammed the door.

  "I'm soaked." She looked down at her pale blue T-shirt and white Capris and shivered. "And cold."

  I was too, but there was no way in hell I was going t
o make the obvious suggestion: that we get out of our clothes.

  As if I'd telepathed my thoughts, her gaze locked onto mine as she slowly handed me a blanket. "We'll catch a chill if we drive back to Santa Monica like this."

  She blushed. "We should take the wet things off and wrap up in the blankets."

  I tsk-tsked. "You're always trying to get me naked."

  I pointed at the sky, where sheets of rain continued to slice down. "I'm starting to think you'd go to extreme lengths, including plea to the big guy upstairs, to get my gear off."

  She rolled her eyes. "You're onto me. I did a rain dance all afternoon just so I could see you strip again."

  "You liked it well enough the first time." I shouldn't tease her but she looked so adorable, tendrils of hair clinging to her cheeks, her eyelashes spiked with water and rain drops trickling down her neck.

  I dared not look lower because the sight of her wet T-shirt could just push me over the edge.

  She tilted her nose in the air. "As I recall, the feeling was mutual."

  To prove it, she peeled her T-shirt overhead before I could come up with one, sane reason why we shouldn't do this.

  "Mia, we can't—"

  "You want to risk pneumonia, fine, but don't tell me I can't do this." She unclipped her bra and slid it off, leaving me staring at her tits, pale and perfect.

  I was grateful for the darkness and the secluded spot she'd chosen to park because damned if I wanted anyone else getting the chance to look at her.

  "You're beautiful," I murmured, grabbing the nearest blanket to stop from grabbing her.

  "Thanks." She unzipped her pants and struggled to push them down her legs, her thong tangling in the wet material.

  I couldn't breathe. Couldn't speak. Couldn't do much of anything but gawk at this incredibly lovely woman. Wet and naked and wanting me.

  After what seemed like an eternity, she draped a blanket around her shoulders and let it cover her body. But it was too late. The damage had been done.

  I needed her with a ferocity that scared the crap out of me.