Match Point Page 14

  The kitchen was cool and pretty. A welcome light breeze floated in from the garden; the hanging plaits of garlic by the window swung gently. Jodi suddenly wished she could stay here and join in, to revel in the relaxed, friendly atmosphere. It had been ages since she’d simply hung out with friends on a Saturday night, making dinner and laughing together.

  Reluctantly, she refused. “Thanks, but I don’t want to take up your time. I’m sorry to be busting in on you like this anyway.”

  “Hey, it’s fine,” Enid reassured her. “You’re not busting in, is she, Miranda? Have a glass. This one is cheap,” she continued, as she pretended to study the bottle, “with slight overtones of nasty. But it’s cold and it goes down easy. Doesn’t it, Miranda,” Enid said again, pointedly prompting her friend.

  “Of course, you’re not taking up our time!” Miranda quickly joined in. “The wine is suitably bad but please do have a glass. You might as well, while we’re sorting out these forms.”

  “Okay, well, if you’re sure you don’t mind. That’d be great, thanks,” Jodi said impulsively. The mood in the kitchen was cheerful and she didn’t really feel like heading home alone to her hotel. She had lost contact with a lot of her friends when she and Tara had moved out to the lake, devoting herself instead to their relationship. It had been hard reconnecting with friends when it had all come tumbling down. Some friends were still mad with her for retreating, some had moved away, some had moved on with their own lives. She had tried to explain her situation to those she had reached out to—she’d never had a serious relationship before, and she had become lost without tennis to ground and direct her. Tara had seemed like the island to her storm, the rock that anchored her in the ocean of confusion. Some friends had been more forgiving than others, and Jodi had learned a serious lesson about friendships. They needed effort and attention. Like houseplants, really. Something she also didn’t have too many of, what with living in the hotel. For a moment, Jodi was struck by the near emptiness of her life. I need to get out more, and I need to find a place to live. After the wild card, she resolved.

  Enid presented Jodi with a glass of wine and she took a sip, giving a tiny shudder as the sharp, tangy wine prickled her taste buds.

  “Told you,” Enid said, grinning impishly at her. “It’s not the best, but after a couple of glasses you’ll hardly notice that aftertaste.”

  “It’s fine,” Jodi lied, taking another small sip. Again, the sharpness of the wine struck her, causing a little shiver.

  “Really?” Enid cocked her head quizzically.

  Jodi laughed. “Okay, it is kind of awful but strangely, I’m enjoying it.” She gazed around the kitchen, taking in the posies of dried wildflowers and Tibetan prayer flags fluttering over the garden window. “This is a beautiful room.”

  “Thanks,” Enid replied. “I like to think I had a hand in making it so.”

  Miranda snorted and Jodi caught something that sounded like a muttered, “I bet you do.”

  “Miranda’s had this place for years. Her aunty willed it to her when we were nineteen, but she really needed my designer’s touch to bring it all together.” Enid glanced around the room with satisfaction.

  “You painted the room, E,” Miranda said dryly, not looking up from the paperwork. “I’m not sure that counts as bringing it all together.”

  “And I chose the colors,” Enid pouted. “Without me you would have chosen some kind of hideous green or something. I really saved her from a terrible interior faux pas,” she said conspiratorially to Jodi.

  If Miranda had had this place since she was nineteen, Jodi calculated, Enid and Miranda must have lived there together for almost ten years! They seemed so easy and happy, and with a pang she realized she wanted to know that feeling for herself.

  “I think that’s done.” Miranda put down the pen and slid the forms over to Jodi. “Can you check and see I’ve done it right?”

  “Sure.” Jodi ran her eyes over the papers, shuffling through the pages to check that each section was correct. “Looks good to me. Oh, no wait, here, you’ve missed this bit.”

  “Where?” Miranda leaned over, scrutinizing the part of the page where Jodi was pointing. Their knees slid against each other under the table, and Jodi could feel the warmth of Miranda’s bare leg against her own. Jodi’s pulse quickened and she fought the urge to lean in closer and put her hand down to rest on Miranda’s strong, shapely thigh.

  “Oh right, I see, sorry. I did miss that.” Miranda took the papers back and Jodi instantly missed the touch where her leg had been.

  The chime of the doorbell startled Jodi. She looked up and caught Enid watching her. She hoped her tan would hide her blush. What am I thinking? She gave herself a mental shake. Lusting after Enid’s girlfriend in front of her definitely counted as poor form.

  “That’ll be Abby,” Enid called, heading through the quaint archway that separated the kitchen from the foyer and the front door.

  Enid was back a second later dragging a self-conscious-looking, pretty brunette by the hand.

  “Miranda,” Enid cried sternly. “Snap your head out of those papers and say hi to Abby.”

  Miranda looked up with a quick smile for the newcomer.

  “Hi Abby,” Miranda said warmly, getting up from the table to give Abby a welcoming hug.

  “Abby, this is Jodi, the tennis player I’ve been working for,” Miranda said, turning to the table to make introductions. “Jodi, meet Abby, Enid’s girlfriend.”

  “Hi.” Jodi jumped up to shake hands, confusion momentarily showing on her face. “Enid’s girlfriend?”

  “Yes,” Enid said slowly, a sudden look of wariness crossing her face. “Why?”

  “Oh well, I thought, I mean…” Jodi trailed off awkwardly, looking from one face to another as she fought her bewilderment.

  A look of understanding flashed over Enid’s face and she broke out in a wide grin. “You thought Miranda and I were together?” she crowed.

  “Er, yes, well, I guess I did,” Jodi stammered.

  “Oh God.” Miranda pretended to shudder. “Not even on a desert island, hey, E?” She elbowed her friend jokingly in the ribs.

  “Not if you were the last woman on earth,” Enid rejoined, laughing uproariously. “This woman, on the other hand,” she said, slipping her hand around Abby’s waist, “this woman is definitely my girlfriend. Now, who wants another drink? Jodi, have you finished that horrible wine? We’ve got another bottle that’s even worse already chilling in the fridge. And what can I get you, babe?” she asked, giving Abby a squeeze.

  “I’ll have a beer, thanks,” Abby replied, with an adoring look at Enid.

  “Coming right up.”

  “Hey, what about me?” Miranda asked, sounding injured.

  “You’ll have to get your own drinks from now on, Miranda. We don’t want anyone getting the wrong idea.” Enid smirked. “Jodi? You brave enough to try the other bottle?”

  “I should go and let you guys get on with your dinner,” Jodi replied stoically. She really didn’t want to leave. “I’ve taken up enough of your time already.”

  “Why don’t you stay for dinner,” Miranda suggested, lightly touching her arm. “Enid’s made enough food for the whole neighborhood and we could use your help getting through it.”

  “Oh yes, Jodi,” Enid chimed in. “You should stay. We’ve got tons of food and it’s better to be even numbers. Also, Abby’s been telling me she wants to know more about tennis and I didn’t want Miranda to be the one to tell her in case she gets it wrong, you know?”

  “Hey!” Miranda protested, laughing.

  “Oh well, we can’t have that,” Jodi replied, smiling affectionately at Miranda. She definitely wanted to stay. She wanted to share in this beautiful evening with these bright and entertaining women. “I think I’m right for wine at the moment but I’d love to stay, thank you.”

  “Great.” Miranda gathered up the paperwork and passed it over to Jodi. “I think this is all done. Want to hel
p me bring some plates out to the garden? I think we’ll eat outside tonight.”

  The last light of dusk was failing as Jodi sat back in her chair and placed her hands over her stomach.

  “I am absolutely stuffed,” she declared with a happy sigh. “That was the best lasagna I think I’ve ever had. My compliments to the chefs.”

  “I’ll second that,” Abby added. “It was restaurant quality.”

  “Aw shucks, guys.” Enid tried to look modest. “Thanks. We haven’t done a big cook-up like that for ages, have we Mirry?”

  Jodi noted the nickname, enjoying the familiarity between the two friends.

  “That we haven’t,” Miranda replied.

  “And you grew most of the salad veggies?” Abby asked Miranda. “I don’t seem to have any luck with my garden. The only things I can grow are weeds.”

  “Ah, well, you need an herb garden, then,” Miranda replied, laying her knife and fork in the center of her plate. She leaned across the table and lit the candles on an old, rusted candelabra. “Herbs will flourish in your garden like weeds, and you can eat them, so they’re the best of both worlds, really.”

  The flickering candles cast a warm glow, accenting the approaching darkness. Jodi took a deep breath, inhaling the warm garden smells as she tipped her head back and looked up at the sky. The first stars were gradually making themselves known in the blue-black expanse and she felt her heart jolt in her chest. I’m happy, she thought, as she allowed the tiny thrill inside her to grow. Abby had her arm loosely draped around Enid’s petite shoulder, the couple sat close together now that dinner was over. Jodi glanced at Miranda and quickly looked away, startled to find Miranda watching her. I want to hold Miranda like that, Jodi thought, her heart skipping a beat. I want her to be closer. Jodi’s mind seemed to empty as the thudding of her heart took over. Risking another glance, the cornflower-blue eyes were still on her and this time she met them steadily.

  The falling night seemed to give them a moment of privacy and Jodi studied Miranda’s impenetrable gaze from under her lashes. She wondered if Miranda could possibly know the sudden electric desire that pulsed through her as she lowered her eyes to stare at the flames.

  “So your next tournament is in Vancouver, Jodi?” Abby’s voice cut across her thoughts.

  “Uh, yes, that’s right.” Her own voice sounded far away. “We leave a week from Tuesday.”

  “And how’s our Miranda working out as a coach?” Enid probed, her cheeky grin lit up by the candlelight. “Is she any good or would you prefer one of us to come with you?”

  Miranda choked on her wine, spluttering as she admonished, “Enid!”

  Jodi laughed, but just as quickly became serious as she regarded her assistant coach. “Actually, Miranda’s doing a very good job. She’s got great ideas and endless passion for the game. And she doesn’t seem to hold it against me for acting like a diva sometimes, so I’d say she’s got the whole coach thing down pat, really.” Jodi met Miranda’s surprised look with a warm smile.

  “Well, I’ve had plenty of practice with Enid, you see,” Miranda replied with feigned modesty. “She’s actually Sacramento’s number one diva.”

  “Hey!” Enid cried. “Not in front of Abby, okay? She doesn’t know that yet!”

  Abby gave a warm chuckle, and leaned her head against Enid’s. “Actually, babe, I did kind of suspect that. Only a true diva has rules about what can and can’t be worn out to breakfast.”

  “Oh,” Enid breathed, snuggling in closer. She tipped her head up to flutter her eyelids at her girlfriend. “And you’re still here. You must really like me.”

  Abby’s answer was a searing kiss, and Jodi and Miranda both laughed.

  “Want to take the plates in with me?” Miranda touched Jodi’s arm lightly. “This might be a good time to leave them to it.”

  “Sure thing.”

  They gathered up the mess of plates and cutlery, stacking serving spoons and salad bowls together. Jodi followed Miranda into the kitchen.

  “I’ll wash, you dry,” Miranda directed as she stationed herself behind the sink and threw a tea towel to Jodi. They fell into an easy rhythm, chatting comfortably together as they cleaned.

  “So how long have Enid and Abby been together?” Jodi asked as she stacked another dry plate on the bench.

  “Not that long really, about two months. But it’s lining up to be the longest relationship Enid has had in forever, so it’s kind of a big deal.”

  Peering out through the open window into the dark garden, Jodi could see the couple wrapped in each other’s arms, Enid now perched on Abby’s lap as they shared a private moment.

  “They seem very happy together.”

  “I know. I’m so glad for them.”

  “What about you?” Jodi found herself asking, forcing a casual tone. She focused intently on the plate she was drying, not daring to look up.

  “Me?”

  “Do you have…I mean, are you…seeing anyone?”

  “Me? No.”

  They fell silent, focusing on the task at hand.

  “What about you?” Miranda asked abruptly, pausing as she held up a soapy plate. “How long have you and Lisa been seeing each other?”

  “Me and Lisa?” Jodi’s eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, no.” She shook her head emphatically. “We’re not together.”

  “What? But I thought…” Miranda trailed off.

  “Nope. Jase asked me to speak with her about a publicity campaign and that’s what we’ve been doing.”

  “But, what about Austin? She seemed, well, didn’t she come to Austin just to see you?”

  “Yeah,” Jodi sighed, feeling awkward. She didn’t really want to have to explain the whole kiss and misunderstanding to Miranda right now. “I think I may have given her the wrong impression.”

  “Gosh,” Miranda giggled, “do you think?”

  “Hey,” Jodi swatted her with the tea towel. “Watch yourself. I’m still your boss you know.”

  Miranda grabbed the tea towel and held on, her eyes twinkling.

  “Yes, but I’m your coach. I think you might need some advice in the dating department.”

  Jodi felt the spark between them flame in the naked air; the intensity of Miranda’s gaze momentarily took her breath away. Miranda slowly pulled on the tea towel, drawing Jodi in closer to her, until they were standing inches apart.

  “You’re not with Lisa?” Miranda’s eyes held the question, dark with emotion.

  “I’m not,” Jodi whispered.

  As their lips met, Jodi melted easily into Miranda, arms wound lightly around her waist. Her lips were surprisingly soft and Jodi registered with shock the briefest touch of Miranda’s tongue against her own. So this is what it feels like to kiss her, she thought distractedly. Alarm bells began to clang in her head and she sprang backward, bumping against the pile of dishes she had dried.

  “I-I can’t do this,” Jodi stammered, hugging her arms tightly to her chest as she pressed back against the bench. “I shouldn’t—I can’t.” Under Miranda’s intense gaze—her pupils wide and dark in her usually light blue eyes—Jodi felt desire and fear fight for first place inside of her. “I should go, I’m so sorry.”

  Jodi hurried to the table to retrieve her bag. She slipped it over her shoulder as she fled the room.

  “Wait, Jodi!” Miranda’s voice stopped her as she was pulling open the front door. Miranda brandished the wad of papers Jodi had brought for her. “Don’t forget these.”

  Miranda’s face was unreadable in the shadows of the doorway. Jodi took the papers and stuffed them quickly into her bag.

  “Thank you. Please say goodbye to the others for me. I really should go.”

  Jodi lurched down the steps, then fumbled with the key as she let herself into the unfamiliar car. Her hands shook as she took off, her heart pounding out a tattoo in her ears. She revved the car unnecessarily, and peered through the darkness, driving too quickly down the suburban streets as she looked for a turn sh
e recognized.

  “Just pull over,” she told herself. “Just pull over and get a grip.”

  Easing to a stop, she rooted around in her bag for her telephone, tapping open the GPS app when she found it. She typed in her hotel address with shaky fingers, and leaned back in her seat as the GPS processed her request.

  “Shit,” she cursed aloud. What have I done? The last thing she needed right now was any kind of complication. She couldn’t deny the pull of attraction she felt for Miranda, with her wide, inviting smile and ocean-blue eyes, but there could be no more kissing. Relationships, as she had learned from Tara, were death to tennis, and she was trying her best right now to breathe life into a career that may have potentially been out cold for far too long to be revived. This was her only chance. Her last hurrah. If she didn’t make it now she could hang up her racket forever. Oh, she would play the odd game with friends, maybe find a Saturday morning doubles team to join, but competitive, professional tennis would be over for her. Well, she was damned if she was going to jeopardize her chances now, having only just made the choice to put herself back out there again.

  Jodi stared out into the night, oblivious to the phone in her hand as it displayed her route home. Her muscles burned from the constant training; her palms sported long, white blisters that would eventually turn themselves back into permanent callouses; her ego was battered and her pride was sore, but she was absolutely determined to keep going. She wanted to push her body to new limits, to see just how far she could go as an athlete. Would she get the wild card? Could she make it to the US Open? And if she did, how far could she go from there? Australia, Japan? The possibilities were endless. But there was no room in this picture for romance. Her schedule was punishing and she needed to focus. Distractions would derail her, and her relationship with Tara had shown her just how disastrously she could be derailed. Maybe later down the track, when she had taken her career as far as it could truly go, she could start to think about relationships again, but now was definitely not the time.