Not So Snow White Read online

  "What?" She barely had time to pull her foot back in before he bumped her door shut. "Hey!"

  "Mr. Fontaine?" one of the trio called out. "Can we have a moment of your time?" A short woman sporting an excruciatingly perfect blonde hairdo trotted up to him, her photographer in tow. She cornered him against his car and stuck her hand out. "Sadie Post with the Herald." Her teeth were blinding white and rather oversized. She shook his hand with surprising strength. "I understand your sister is in training with Tess Hamilton." Her smile grew wider… and exponentially more terrifying. "The bad girls of tennis working together, eh? It's such a great story," she gushed. "We'd love to do Gaby and Tess's first interview as coach and player. You'll get front-page treatment with a full-color splash photo.''

  The gangly, shaggy-haired photographer accompanying Sadie nodded and gave his own toothy grin of agreement. Max nodded absently toward him, thinking it better to keep his attention on the reporter. "Thank you for your interest," he said, falling into the standard spiel he'd used before. "Why don't you give me your card and I'll contact you. We're a bit rushed at the moment. Court time and all."

  Wrong thing to say. Sadie's eyes popped even wider as she tried to look past him into the window of the car. "Gabrielle?" she called out. "Can we have a moment?"

  Max sighed. He hated aggressive women. That moment by the door last night flashed through his mind again. Tess coming on to him, playing with his collar, breathing all over him. She'd smelled good, he recalled, then immediately scowled and deliberately shut the image out of his head once and for all. "I'm very sorry. We have practice time scheduled. Now, if you'll please be so kind, we'd like to maintain some—"

  The door shoved open into the back of his thighs, propelling him forward. If Sadie hadn't been quick on her feet, he might have plastered her to the ground. As it was, he managed to regain his balance, but not before Gaby had emerged from the car. "Hello," she said, all TV camera smiles and ingratiating charm. "A pleasure," She stuck out her hand. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

  "Sadie Post, Miss Fontaine."

  Max raked a hand through his hair and worked his way between them before Sadie could crush Gaby's serving hand in ; her monster grip, "Miss Fontaine is unavailable for comment at this time," he said, jaw squared. He shot a look at his sister, all but daring her to push this any further. For once in her young life, she backed down.

  Smiling cheerfully, Gaby shrugged and rolled her eyes. "Sorry. Practice time, you know." She was quite charming when she wanted to be, Max noted. She gave a little wave to the cameraman, who quickly lifted his gear. A little red light blinked to life on the front of his camera. Gaby grabbed her gear bag and swung it over her shoulder, then looked back at the small ensemble. She could have been posing for a teen magazine. "Give Max your card and I'll talk to Tess. Bye!"

  They weren't going to have to worry how she'd do against Davina tomorrow. Because Max was going to strangle her the very moment they were alone.

  As it turned out, there was little-to-no alone time. Gaby's practice partner, Petra Kasyanova, was waiting for them on court. Along with a surprising number of other people, apparently all hoping to get a glimpse of Gaby and Tess working together. Former star coaching the young phenom. The bad girls of tennis. Sadie's words echoed in Max's head. He could see the headlines now. Christ.

  Gaby came over to the bench and grabbed her water. Max was a few feet away, seated on the grass by the fence. "Your backhand is on today. Good approach shots."

  She just shot him a look. "I could be getting all kinds of help from Tess back at Wexley House, but noooo. I'm stuck here with Petra. Who is more worried about getting in the pictures people are taking than hitting the damn ball."

  Max lifted his shoulders. "You wouldn't have to worry about that if you'd been a little more—"

  "I'm not worried about it. It's Petra who can't keep it together. It's all your fault, anyway."

  "My fault? Was I the one who sat across from Fionula Hust and blabbed about her 'secret weapon'?"

  Gaby tossed her water bottle on her gear bag. "If you'd been more receptive to the idea of us working together, I wouldn't have had to take such drastic measures." She lifted a hand when he went to interrupt. "And even now, you're forcing me out here with all these distractions when I could be on a private court getting help from one of the best players ever to hit a ball."

  Heads were beginning to turn as Gaby's voice grew louder.

  Max stood and walked over to his sister. "Unless you want even more distraction, you might want to keep it down a little."

  "I just don't understand why I couldn't have stayed at Wexley House, at least for today. Even Tess thought it was a good idea."

  Max had to clamp down on his jaw to keep from telling Gaby exactly what he thought of Tess and her ideas. "We're here because you have to be responsible for the consequences of your actions. You want to go blab things to the world without thinking it through first, fine. But then you have to deal with the fallout."

  Like any sixteen-year-old worth her mascara, Gaby immediately switched tactics. "Come on, Max," she wheedled sweetly. "Don't be such a bear. My first match is the day after tomorrow. I know I might have been a bit impulsive yesterday, but it's just because I'm so worried about facing Davina. I want to do well here, or at least not humiliate myself like I did in Paris."

  "You didn't humiliate yourself in Paris. No one expected—"

  "I expected, okay? And then I come here and blow the tune-up event. I'm feeling like I lost my edge."

  "You've only been on tour a few months. It's going to take time to climb the ranks. It's one game, one match, one tournament at a time."

  "Yes, and I have to play well, because you won't let me play enough tournaments to get my ranking up faster."

  "It's not a race."

  "It is for me," she said, the heat creeping back into her voice, "An injury could end my career early, like it did Tess's."

  "Which is exactly why I'm being selective in what tournaments you play, so you don't wear yourself down too soon, burn out."

  "I'm strong, Max. I can handle more than this. I want to play. Anything could happen out there. I could get hurt driving here, you just don't .know. I have to make my mark now, while I'm young, while I know I can."

  "Gaby—"

  "So either let me play more, or let me have the kind of help I need to get better as fast as I can."

  She was working up a good head of steam and Max knew if he pushed, she'd explode. On this particular day, with the added awareness of the press and the group of spectators lining the fences, the last thing he needed was to create an incident. "Petra is waiting. Go finish your session and we'll talk about this on the way back." She started to rebut, but he talked over her. "I'm not going to argue this here, not now."

  She huffed out a sigh. "Fine. But we're going to talk about this later. You're ruining my concentration." She flounced off, content to have had the last word. For now.

  Max snagged a second water bottle from her bag and took a long swig. Gaby would be seventeen this fall. In a little more than a year, she would make her own decisions about things like tournament scheduling and coaching. In a year, he'd be rendered obsolete if she so desired. So the more she learned now, the better chance she had of making sound decisions later. Some days, thoughts of his sister finally being on her own, leaving his own future up for grabs, terrified him.

  A murmur rippled through the crowd, followed by a few hoots and whistles, then a burst of spontaneous applause rang out.

  "Hey, Gaby," a familiar voice shouted. Grinning ear to ear, Tess made her grand entrance on the practice courts amid a barrage of flashbulbs and shouts for her autograph. "Ready to hit a few?"

  And some days, Max thought, sighing heavily, that day couldn't get here fast enough.

  Chapter 14

  "What are you doing here?" Max demanded.

  "So nice to see you, too, Max. Miss me?"

  "Are you crazy?"

  "Often
." Tess dropped her gear bag next to Gaby's. Max was definitely not happy to see her. Goody. "Perk up. I believe you were the one who said she should reap what she sowed." Gaby waved and Tess nodded at her, then looked back at Max, a bright smile on her face. "After some thought, I decided you were right and I was wrong. A historical moment for us, don't you think? I'll be glad to put that in writing if you'd like."

  His expression remained flat. "Always a smart mouth."

  She leaned down and tugged a racket from her bag, giving him a look down the front of her tank top if he so desired: She glanced up through her lashes just in time to see him quickly avert his gaze, and grinned. "You have no idea."

  His eyes went dark and his pupils shot a bit wider. Simply a biological reaction to stimulation, she told herself. But immensely gratifying all the same.

  She wisely straightened and turned her back on him before she could give in to the urge to see what other kind of reactions she could provoke from him. A path she was going to have to work hard at avoiding if she had any hope of keeping this rapidly escalating situation under any semblance of control. "Petra, can you stay and hit a while longer?" she called out.

  Shutters whirred as cameras recorded every millisecond.

  "Autographs, Tess?" someone shouted. "Come on!"

  Gaby's hitting partner was young and blonde and looked like she should be on the cover of Barbie Tennis, if they ever came out with such a thing. Petra took in the now rapidly increasing crowd, along with the converging reporters flipping open notebooks and directing their cameramen, and nodded enthusiastically. "Definitely, Ms. Hamilton," she called back, her English slightly accented. "It would be an honor." She then immediately hurried to her bench on the far side of the court to pull a small compact from her gear bag to check her hair. Tess glanced at Gaby, who was huffing impatiently, and shared a quick, resigned smile.

  "This way, Tess!" one of the photographers shouted.

  "When did you start training Gabrielle?" a reporter shouted.

  "How did you two hook up?" someone else called out.

  "Is this a permanent arrangement?"

  "Why coaching, Tess? Hard time letting go of the game?"

  "Maybe she just wants to make sure the game doesn't get boring now that she's gone," someone said, causing a wave of titters to ripple through the growing throng.

  "Gabrielle," a reporter called out, "you gonna take up the 'bad girl of tennis' mantle now that Tess has laid it down?"

  "You got one hell of a teacher," someone else shouted. "For tennis, too."

  Another wave of laughter ran through the crowd and Tess could see this quickly getting out of control. She didn't mind fielding the shout-outs, and she didn't mind exposing Gaby to it, that was why she'd come down here, after all. But exposing was one thing. She had no intention of putting Gaby directly into the line of fire. Yet. The last thing any of them needed was Gaby saying anything incendiary, intentionally or not,

  Seeing Max starting to cross the court, as well as Gaby looking to her then back at the crowd, as if ready to respond, Tess quickly grinned and waved at everyone, drawing all the attention back to her. Go with your strength, right?

  "Listen up, gang," she called out. "This is supposed to be a closed practice." She walked a bit closer to the wall that ran alongside the side of the court separating the court from the walkways. The wall was about seven feet high and a foot thick, with flower boxes lining the top so the people walking along the pathways between the outer courts in this section were actually looking down into the court from an elevated position. As she drew closer, she elicited another round of whistles and shoutouts. "We don't mind if you hang out and watch, but I'm going to ask that you let us conduct business here."

  "Just a few minutes, Tess!"

  "First round for Gaby is day after tomorrow. Have a heart, guys. Compromise with me. I don't want to have to call security."

  "How about after?" one reporter shouted. "Promise us some time?"

  "Deal. When we're done, you get ten minutes."

  That seemed to calm them down, but no one left the area. Tess glanced at Gaby, who had taken her cue—bless her—and already walked back to the baseline. She was hitting back and forth with Petra, who was infinitely more distracted by this circus than Gaby was. In fact, Gaby seemed to feed off the energy. That's my girl.

  Well, Tess wasn't minding it a whole lot at the moment, either, but not because she enjoyed the attention, or particularly wanted it. She did, however, need it. As long as she could keep Gaby focused, she saw no harm in trying to kill two birds with one stone. Gaby could get a much needed crash course in Media Gauntlet 101, and Tess could increase her visibility… and her marketability. It was all about balancing. And praying that when all was said and done, the balancing act paid out at least a healthy six-figure endorsement deal with someone. She no longer cared much who. She'd hawk bug spray if they'd have her.

  "Okay, ladies," she said, all business as she turned back to the court. "We're going to drill approach shots." She walked over to Gaby. "Listen," she said quietly, "I want to work just like we did the other day. But you need to get more aggressive. Davina likes to come in. She's got a great net game and she's going to use that on you every chance she gets."

  "So I'll hit it deep, not give her the opportunity."

  "She'll make her opportunities, trust me. If you hang out back here, you're going to lose to her. She's got a good return game and some real finesse shots."

  "Then why isn't she ranked higher?"

  "Lack of consistency. She lets her heart rule her head."

  Gaby grinned. "I can work that."

  "I'm sure you can. But in the meantime, let's keep up with the net drills, okay? I know it's way too late to be introducing anything too new, but I think I have a few ideas on how you can take what you're already doing and tweak it a little. I know you don't feel comfortable yet, up at the net, but that could work to your advantage."

  "How?"

  "If she's done her research, she's going to know that about you, too. So she'll try and pull you in, drop-shot you, short-court you, then pass you down the line, right and left."

  Gaby's mouth quirked up a little. "Sounds like maybe you know from personal experience."

  Tess shot her a look. "Don't remind me." Then her own mouth quirked. "Besides, I can get my revenge through you."

  Gaby laughed. "Deal."

  "Don't get cocky on me, now," Tess said, but she was fighting a smile. Gaby was a handful, but she had even more promise. So much damn talent. God, she missed this game so much it hurt. "Okay," she said, shoving that emotion forcefully aside, "so we surprise her. You're going to have to pick your moments, though. Rather than push to come in on your own shots, I'm going to work a few angles for when she brings you in. She won't be expecting it. We can't do it often, but it might make her think twice about that little strategy."

  Gaby's eyes were shining, and she was rocking on her feet in anticipation. "Cool. Thanks, Tess. This is, like, the perfect insider information."

  "Don't thank me just yet. I can give you the information, work the angles, but it's what you do with it that counts."

  "We'll make it work."

  As Gaby turned back to the baseline, Tess said, "You know, if you had a regular coach, he or she would be giving this kind of information to you on a regular basis." She'd intended the remark as a pointed reminder that Gaby wasn't doing herself any favors by keeping her coaches on the revolving-door plan. Especially during slam season. Something Tess knew from personal experience.

  Instead of looking chastened, however, Gaby's grin widened.

  "So I'll just talk you into staying with me into hard-court season. Until the U.S. Open."

  Before Tess's mouth could do much more than drop open, Gaby was already prancing back to the baseline. Brat, Tess thought, not nearly as put out by her protégée's little machinations as she should have been. HeT initial fantasy moment aside, she had no plans to prolong this arrangement beyond the fortnight here
in London. She'd help Gaby find someone who was suited for her as a long-term coach before leaving. But if everything went as she hoped, she wouldn't need this gig two weeks from now.

  She moved back to the sideline and directed Petra to hit a short ball. "I want you to come in, then lob it."

  Gaby had been rocking on the balls of her feet in anticipation of the shot, but stopped and stood up. "What? I could come in, pass her easily down the line."

  "Because you know it's coming. You won't during the game, trust me. Davina masks those shots really well. She'll expect power from you and the first thing she's going to do is dive for the nearest sideline. So you lob her, give yourself time to get back." She grinned. "Then you bring the power. Bring the pain. You run her back and forth until your shot opens up. Capice?"

  Gaby didn't look convinced.

  Tess just turned to Petra. "Short court." She walked over to the young blonde and quietly added, "As soon as you hit this, stab left."

  "But isn't she going to lob me?"

  "Just do it."

  Petra shrugged. Tess smiled back at Gaby, who was watching their exchange with typical impatience. She jogged to the side of the court, and waved them into play.

  Petra placed the ball in the middle of the service box… and just as Tess assumed, Gaby came charging in and drove it down the line.

  Petra was already moving that direction, stabbed her racket out as instructed… and caught the ball on a sharply angled volley that landed well out of Gaby's reach, dropping just inside the line to her far right.

  Tess just folded her arms. "Now can we try the lob?"

  Gaby muttered under her breath and stalked back to the baseline.

  She nodded to Petra and they went through the motions again, only this time Gaby popped the ball up. Petra raced back to the baseline and made a looping return… and from that point on Gaby owned her. She pinned her to one corner, then ran her to the other. Back and forth. Until Petra finally gave her a short ball again. This time Gaby was ready and when Petra came in behind it, Gaby lobbed it over her head and Petra had no way of reversing her direction in time to get it. The ball dropped in just inside the baseline. Gaby crowed and pumped her fist. Petra, hands braced on her hips, just shook her head.