Free Match Play by Merline Lovelace Page A

as another diversion. Wouldn’t you rather have the media focusing on it and our off-course activities than speculating on your sudden friendship with Wu Kim Li?”
    The media wasn’t all she had to worry about. Still feeling the needle of sumo-mama’s intense scrutiny, Dayna massaged the back of her neck. Luke watched her for a moment, then crossed to the ice bucket.
    â€œYou played a heck of a game, Duncan. You need to celebrate. More to the point, you need to relax.”
    The hotel’s very efficient room service—or a very confident Luke—had already popped the champagne cork. An elaborate silver stopper in the shape of a thistle preserved the wine’s bubbles.
    Removing the stopper, Luke poured a stream of pale gold into the crystal flute. “Here. Sit down, drink this and let me work out some of the kinks.”
    What the hell, Dayna thought. If a massage worked for Kim Li, it could work for her. She could certainly use some unkinking.
    Accepting the champagne, she sank onto the sofa and unzipped her windbreaker. The cushions dipped as Luke sat behind her and tucked her ponytail out of the way. When he went to work on her stiff muscles, she groaned.
    â€œOh, God! You’re good.”
    â€œThat’s what they all say,” he returned with a smile in his voice. “So are you, by the way. I still don’t believe the putt you sank on number seven.”
    His breath was a warm wash against her cheek. His hands worked sheer magic.
    â€œNeither do I,” she murmured.
    â€œAnd your drive on number twelve. That was majesty in motion.”
    Sabotaged by the compliment and his clever, clever hands, Dayna had to agree. That drive had been pretty spectacular.
    â€œThanks.”
    She tipped the champagne to her lips. The fizz teased her nostrils and added to the seduction of his touch.
    â€œIt felt like old times,” he commented. “Watching you compete, whooping and cheering with the rest of the crowd.”
    His hands stilled for a moment.
    â€œI hated that I missed the Olympics, Dayna. You don’t know how much I wanted to see you win gold.”
    The old hurts put out their spiky tentacles, piercing her pleasure. She’d wanted him there, too. So badly that standing on the winner’s platform, listening to the national anthem, watching the Stars and Stripes being hoisted, had filled her with as much regret as joy.
    She’d never admitted that to anyone. Her coach. Her parents. Her friends. Even Gillian Ridgeway, who’d become as close as a sister these past months. Burying her nose in the crystal flute, Dayna tried to drown the lingering resentment. It wouldn’t die.
    â€œYou could have been there,” she heard herself say.
    â€œI know.”
    â€œYou were the one who decided we should cool it. Not me.”
    â€œI know.”
    Maybe it was the champagne. Or the itchy awareness of his chest only inches from her back. Or the slow, kneading rhythm when he resumed the massage.
    Or all of the above, Dayna thought on another wave of resentment. This one was so swift and strong it almost made her feel woozy.
    â€œWhy weren’t you there, Harper?” Riding the wave, she twisted around to face him. “Why didn’t you think we were worth fighting for?”
    He didn’t dodge the question or the raw emotions it evoked. “I knew what the Olympics meant to you. Hell, the last weekend we spent together your palms were so blistered from paddling you had to slather on antiseptic ointment and wear cotton gloves the whole time. You think I wanted to get in the way of that kind of drive, that kind of dedication?”
    Dayna’s lip curled. Every moment of their last weekend was so vivid in her mind she might have been back at Columbus Air Force Base instead of in this cozy suite filled with chintz-covered furniture and dark oak trim. Her heart racing, she debunked his quiet explanation.
    â€œDon’t give me that