Playing for Hearts
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Debra Kayn
Avon, Massachusetts
This edition published by
Crimson Romance
an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.
10151 Carver Road, Suite 200
Blue Ash, Ohio 45242
Copyright © 2012 by Debra Kayn
ISBN 10: 1-4405-6407-8
ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-6407-9
eISBN 10: 1-4405-6408-6
eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-6408-6
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author's imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.
Cover art © 123rf.com
To Miranda â For all your help on keeping it real, and the many times you listened as I worked out the many directions Grayson wanted to take me. What a ride! Thank you!
To Hubs â Yeah, I'm still crushin' on you, baby.
To my editor, Jess â For the wonderful work, for letting me keep my voice, and for loving
Wildly
as much as I do.
To my mom (and my dad who passed away) â Thank you for never missing a tennis match, softball game, basketball game and shelling out the money for all the tennis lessons, camps, and tournaments. Plus, the outfits, the hundreds of Nike shoes, the rackets, the strings, the cases and visors. It meant the world to me.
Chapter One
Shauna Marino walked toward the front door of Schyler Tennis Center â or straight to hell â she wouldn't know for sure until she stood before Grayson Schyler with her heart in her hand. With a toss of her hair and a fortifying breath, she forced herself to take the last remaining steps to face her past. If she'd planned the epic occasion better, she would've brought a bottle of tequila along to soften the outcome.
The wind caught the outer door and slammed it shut behind her with an ominous
whoosh
. She flinched, and then tried to hide her shaky reaction of being back in Grayson's territory by wiping the palm of her hand on the front of her white tennis skirt. She hadn't seen him in over six years, but the same anxiety-excitement-fear emotional cocktail threatened her resolve to pull this meeting off with class and calmness.
She inspected the front of her light pink, sleeveless polo shirt and flicked at an imaginary piece of lint. The odds were good that Grayson wouldn't even recognize her. Not at first, anyway.
No longer the innocent teenager, gangly and wilder than the coastal winds, always diving headfirst into whatever feelings ruled the moment, she hoped to rekindle her friendship with Grayson. Before she could show him how much she'd changed though, she'd have to prove she'd left her old ways behind her.
“Hi. Can I help you?” To the right of the door, a young man behind the front desk stood up from his perch at the computer and approached the counter.
“I have a lesson with Grayson at eleven. My name's Shauna.” She stared straight ahead, her heart beating wildly in her chest.
When she'd called and made the appointment, she'd left only her first name â spelled the wrong way to be on the safe side. The idea to keep Grayson in the dark about her return had seemed brilliant at the time. She didn't want him reminded of how she'd made a complete fool of herself all through high school with her wild crush on him. She hoped the element of surprise would be enough to knock him speechless when they finally did come face to face.
Maybe then she would be able to utter the two words she should've said years ago.
I'm sorry.
She looked up at the oversized poster of Grayson holding the Wimbledon trophy. Warmth beat out the nervousness inside her stomach, and she leaned forward. She'd never missed one of Grayson's matches on television, or an opportunity to be with him back when she'd still lived at home. It seemed like her whole life revolved around loving Grayson.
He'd started out as her idol when she was twelve years old and he was nineteen. Then, during the winters, when he came home in the off-season to teach at the tennis center, she'd used whatever creative act she could think up to spend time with him. Despite their age difference, they'd become friends. He'd fascinated her with his world travels, his responsibilities, and his goals. He was the young man who thought she was a funny kid, and she'd done whatever possible to make him laugh.
Shauna caught herself tapping the counter with her fingernail and stopped.
Looking back, she knew she'd gone overboard more often than naught, much to the disgrace of the town. But she could also point out that she and Grayson had supported each other while they'd dealt with their own individual hurts. They'd connected on a level that exceeded the normal friendships that came and went. She rubbed her arm. He'd meant everything to her. Smart, ambitious, and compassionate, he'd shown her that someone cared about her.
It wasn't until she'd turned sixteen that her world spiraled out of control, and she'd fallen head over heels in love with Grayson. She no longer saw him as her mentor, her coach, and she couldn't accept why he'd suddenly pushed her away and left their friendship behind.
For two years, she'd gone to the extreme to reconnect with him, much to his anger. Finally, on her eighteenth birthday, she'd had enough. She was an adult, and he could no longer tell her she was a child and to stay away.
She'd shown up at his office with only her long coat covering her naked body. She swallowed at remembering how his eyes flared as she'd explained why she'd come to him. The intensity in which he'd jerked the edges of her coat closed, turned her around, and pushed her out the door devastated her.
After that, he had nothing to do with her and she'd finally accepted that she'd lost her best friend. On that horrible day when she'd decided to give everything to Grayson, her dad met her on the front porch when she'd arrived home, rejected, hurting, and broken. Grayson had ratted her out, and she was in trouble. Her stomach flipped and she inhaled deeply. Not long after, her father claimed to have had enough of her shenanigans and sent her away to college to grow up.
She'd done her best to move on with her life, and experience more of the world while attending Cal State, to forget about her past. She'd excelled in school, made friends, and a new life for herself. But, the time had come to return to where she'd grown up and repair her reputation. “Are you a registered member here?” the clerk asked.
She shook her head. “No. A guest.”
At one time, she'd spent every day improving her game under the guise of being close to Grayson, but she'd dropped her membership and the sport completely when her dad surprised her and sent her to Cal State. She spun the handle of her graphite racket. Away from home, she'd waited for her feelings to change, but instead her feelings for Grayson had grown stronger.
“That'll be thirty-five dollars.” The man held out his hand, and proceeded to scan her debit card before handing it back to her. “Grayson will be finishing his lesson in â ” he looked up at the clock “ â five minutes. Go ahead and go through the double doors behind you. You'll be playing on the clay court. If you want to warm up now, you'll be all ready when he's done. If you need anything else, my name's Daniel.”
“Thank you, Daniel.” She kept to the right of the counter, crossed the large lobby where onlookers gathered to observe the three indoor courts, and pushed through the double doors leading to the play area. Back to back, the grass, concrete, and clay surfaces provided every player the opportunity to practice on different playing fields.
She dawdled behind the ceiling-to-floor curtain used to block off the pathway behind the courts from flying tennis balls. She peeked between the openings of the fabric to the first court. What would one little look hurt?
Six feet away, Grayson stood with his back to her. Her stomach fluttered. All smooth, firm lines of his six-foot killer body, so close, so touchable, so out of her league. He hadn't changed a bit.
He still wore his sandy brown hair longer than most guys did, the ends only beginning to curl as they skimmed the collar of his T-shirt. His broad shoulders bunched and bulged beneath his shirt. His strong arm swung the racket in a smooth arch, showing his raw talent for the sport.
She held her breath, afraid he'd sense her behind him. Her gaze lowered to the white tennis shorts hugging his muscular ass and pulling tighter every time he moved his legs. Solid legs that left her clenching the curtain in her hand for support. Legs she would've recognized anywhere.
