Free Match Play by Merline Lovelace

had crammed the so-called “break” with events that ranged from a traditional bagpipe skirl to a children’s golf clinic. Dayna had donated an hour at the clinic. The rest of the day she intended to spend finalizing the details of the plan to extract the Wus. Luke wasn’t included in either of these activities, but Dayna could hardly admit as much publicly.
    â€œWe’re just taking it easy,” she said with deliberate vagueness.
    â€œTogether?” the persistent reporter wanted to know.
    Dayna merely smiled, waved to the crowd and walked up the slope to the clubhouse with Luke at her side. They parted company at the entrance.
    â€œI’ll meet you back at the hotel.”
    â€œSure you want to?” she asked. “I’m considering several forms of severe retribution in retaliation for you feeding that nickname to the press.”
    â€œForewarned is forearmed.” Unrepentant, he tugged on her ponytail and dropped another kiss on her nose. “I’ll wear my flak vest.”
    The cameras, Dayna reminded herself sternly as she made her way to the officiating table to turn in her scorecard. He was playing to the cameras.
    Yet damned if she didn’t take the tingle with her into the locker room. She’d come off the course too late to catch Kim Li in the sauna. The girl was already stretched out on the portable massage table, being pummeled by sumo-mama.
    The masseuse kneaded Kim Li’s bare back, but her unblinking stare followed Dayna as she nodded to Kim Li and went to the storage facility to stow her gear.
    Â 
    The residue of that stare stayed with Dayna during the short walk back to the hotel.
    Did the masseuse suspect something? Had one of her cohorts observed the brief colloquy between Dayna and Kim Li at Cockburren’s? Was Hawk receiving the same vibes from Dr. Wu’s guard dogs? Anxious to connect with her partner and get his take on these sudden, prickly doubts, Dayna keyed the lock to her hotel room.
    Her mind might have been on the Wus but her instincts responded instantly to the shape that materialized when she opened the door. It came at her from off to the right, unexpected and unexplained.
    Dayna swung around. Luke’s face and form registered just in time to halt the knee she had halfway to his groin.
    â€œWhoa!” Hastily, he backed out of range. “You weren’t kidding about retribution.”
    â€œI wasn’t trying to exact retribution, you idiot. Not yet, anyway.” Disgusted, she slammed the door. “A swift knee to the gonads is my normal response to men who pop out from behind doors unexpectly.”
    â€œI’ll remember that.”
    â€œHow did you get into my room?”
    â€œThe maid saw us on TV.” His mouth tipped. “We must be giving a convincing performance.”
    She couldn’t argue with that. An all-too-vivid reminder of their kiss hit her as she unclipped her fanny pack and tossed it on the sofa. Only then did she notice the champagne bucket and crystal flute poised on a heavy silver tray.
    â€œWhat’s this?”
    â€œRoom service delivered it, compliments of the house for your terrific round. Why don’t I get a glass from the bar and we’ll celebrate together?”
    â€œI don’t have time to celebrate. I need to talk to Hawk and…”
    â€œHawk?”
    â€œMike Callahan. His code name—call sign, as you flyboys term it—is Hawkeye.”
    â€œI’ll bet his call sign has something to do with the marksmanship patch on his pocket.”
    â€œYou’d win the bet.”
    Showing no signs of leaving, Luke followed her into the sitting room. “What’s your call sign?”
    â€œRogue. After the Rogue River in Oregon,” she added when he lifted an inquiring brow. “That’s where I first learned to paddle. Not in a puddle, as you insist on insinuating with that ridiculous nickname.”
    â€œThink of the nickname