Jennifer Probst - Searching for Perfect

The door opened. “Nate? Your partner is waiting out here for you.”

“Coming.” He hoisted the clubs onto his shoulder, still bedazzled, and walked out of the office to the main fairway. Then stopped short.

“Hello, Nate.”

Kennedy stood before him.

Holy crap. She was gorgeous. Thick waves of hair fell past her shoulders, streaked with candy caramel color. The tennis dress thing was different from the last one she wore. This dress was shorter, and in fire-engine red. Her bare golden legs went on forever and ended in a pair of scarlet golf shoes.

His voice didn’t work. He kept trying, but it got stuck halfway up his lungs and caught in his throat. His dick seemed to work fine, though. It rose to full staff salute and pushed painfully against his pants. This was not happening. Was it? Was he dreaming or was he just completely stupid to think she ever secretly loved him at all?

He quickly ran through endless physics equations to calm his mind and be able to walk without highlighting his arousal. “What are you doing here?”

Her tongue shot out to dampen glossy pink lips, showcasing that one crooked tooth he was so crazy about. “Golfing. Wolfe couldn’t make it.”

Temper warred with his sick desire to spend time with her. “And you’re okay with this?”

She blinked. “Sure. Aren’t you?”

He grit his teeth. No. No more games and pain and hoping for something from her she wasn’t able to give. “No, I’m not. Are you trying to deliberately mess with my head? Why are you here, Kennedy?”

She flinched, and suddenly the fake calm dropped from her face and was replaced by truth. Those whiskey eyes filled with longing and a hint of—fear? Was that even possible? What was going on? “I need to talk to you,” she murmured. “To explain. Some things.”

His heart leaped with hope. He squashed it like an annoying gnat. “I think we’ve said everything we need. I can’t do this with you anymore. I’m going home.”

He turned and prayed for the strength to reach his car. To drive away and heal from this woman who stole his heart and turned his world upside down and didn’t want him.

“Wait!” She jumped out and blocked his path. Twisted her fingers and looked up from thick dark lashes with pleading, puppy dog eyes that walloped away his breath. “Please, just give me a chance. Play three holes with me. If I win, you listen to everything I have to say. If I lose, I’ll walk and never bother you again.”

He looked at her in astonishment. “Are you kidding me? That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

“I triple dog dare you. Three holes. You owe me that.”

He owed her? Was she kidding? Pure temper warred with his survival instinct to get away and save himself. She wanted to challenge him to a game? Fine. But this time he was playing for keeps. On his own holy ground of the golf course, Nate intended to finally finish this relationship and not look back. On his terms.

“Be careful what you wish for, Ken,” he growled under his breath. “I’ve finally had enough.”

The woman had the guts to smile at him. “So have I. Let’s do this. This time I brought my own clubs.”

He smothered a humorless laugh. Damn her to hell. But he realized this was the only way to end it. Once he won, she’d leave him alone, and maybe he’d finally be able to get on with his life. It was a poetic sort of finale, but more like an opera where everyone died at the end rather than a romance novel.

“Fine. We won’t need the cart. Follow me.”

He grabbed her clubs, refusing to allow her to carry them up the hill, and trudged off. She kept up, but he refused to look back. All he needed to see was that perky rear barely covered by the ridiculous dress. How could they make such stuff to play golf in? It wasn’t decent. What would happen if she had to bend down to get one of the balls?

Smoke steamed out of his head, but he reached the first hole, released her clubs, and got his head in the game. “Ladies first.”

She took her spot in the tee box. Glued her gaze to the ball, shimmied a bit back and forth while the red skirt swung in rhythm, drew back, and socked the ball with a perfect arc. It landed nicely on the edge of the fairway. Usually, she commented and chatted nonstop while they golfed. This time, she remained quiet, as if this game was actually important to her.

Nate knew the feeling.

He yanked his emotions under wrap and set up. His approach shot was flawless, and he watched as the ball landed right by the tee, set up for perfect par.

She frowned. “Nice shot,” she offered.

He glared. “Thanks.”

They trudged to the fairway and finished up.

Score: Four strokes for her. Three for him.

The second hole she upped the stakes, with a gorgeous powerful line drive that got it close to the green. How on earth did she just happen to have the perfect natural swing that no one in his life had ever possessed? Was she wearing red panties to match the dress? Would he find out if she bent down? He actually smelled her, the scent of bare skin and arousal, spice and musk, and all woman. His brain ping-ponged between lust and golf, but he swore to win and managed to knock the ball right to the green. Then wrapped it up quickly while she fumbled on the final putt.

Score: Four strokes for her. Two for him.

“It’s over,” he said quietly. “You’d have to get a hole in one and that’s impossible.”

“I can do it.”

Frustration singed his nerves, and he clenched the club around his fingers. “It’s over,” he said again, more forcefully. “Besides needing a hole in one, I’d need four strokes handicap.”

She stuck her chin out, got on tiptoe, and spoke right in his face. “I’m not a quitter. We said we’d play three holes.”

He grit his teeth and swore. “This is ridiculous and unnecessary. Fine. Let’s go.”

He marched to the third hole and she kept pace. The rolling green hills spread before them, and sun streamed over the land like a gift from the gods. Birds sang with Disney cheer, a light breeze caressed the skin, and he’d never been so fucking miserable in his life. Last hole. He should’ve known she’d never give up, except on herself.

Except on love.

She seemed quieter and more reflective as she took her stance, glancing back over her shoulder at him. Her swing connected at the sweet spot, and put her right onto the green.

But it wasn’t a hole in one.

He didn’t say anything. They both stared at the ball, lying on the green, and something heavy pulsed in the silence. When she finally turned her head, those haunting amber eyes held the glimmer of tears, but nothing fell. “I lost.”

His heart tore and bled, and he wondered if he’d die right here on the golf course. “Yes.”

“But I can’t play by the rules. Not now. Not with you.”

He let out a primitive cry that he bet cavemen had originated when their women had beaten them to the ground, literally and figuratively. “Don’t,” he tore out. “I can’t—I can’t take it.”

She lifted her hands in the air in pure supplication. Raw emotion ravaged the graceful lines of her face, and for the first time, he glimpsed all the hidden corners of her soul, naked for him in the blinding sunlight of the golf course. “I love you.”

“Oh, crap. You’re going to kill me.” He spun away and tunneled his fingers through his hair. “Now you decide you love me? We get on the course, you see me again and remember what it was like, and think you want me back?”

“I came to see you weeks ago. You were out with Mary, and your brother answered the door.”

The pain was replaced by ice. So much better this way. It hurt less. “Why?”

“I came to beg your forgiveness. To say I love you, that I believed in us, and a real relationship, and I was stupid and scared. You deserve more, I know you do, but I had to try and tell you the truth.”