Brack drove me to the country club. Because of the media swarming my apartment and our detoured avoidance of said media, I was late for practice.

Jerry appeared ready to have an apoplectic fit. Then, when I introduced Brack as my boyfriend, I thought Jerry's eyes would bug out of his head. Being late was bad. A lover anywhere near training sessions was taboo. It broke every rule in Jerry's book.

"What the hell are you doing, Stradmore?" he hissed as soon as we were far enough away from Brack that he couldn't overhear.

I stopped walking and turned to my coach. Brack and I discussed what to say during the drive over. "You know there's an insane man stalking me, right?"

Jerry only grunted.

"I feel safer with Brack by my side. We're in a relationship and he's a big guy."

Jerry rolled his eyes. "You know I already chased the media away by saying you weren't scheduled for the court today. When they finally see you with surfer boy it will be headline news. Is that what you want?"

It was hard not to laugh at his description of Brack. But, I had to stick to the plan. It was quite possible that Ty had an inside to Jerry. I trusted my coach to have me ready to compete. That was it. He wanted the attention my winning tennis darling notoriety brought. I'd known for a long time he'd dump me if my game fell and someone new came along. And, Jerry didn't have a clue who Ty was any more than the rest of us. Someone fed Ty information, even if it was unknowingly. I turned away. With practiced ease my short skirt flipped up. It was my way to roll my eyes. "He's staying. Deal with it. Brack will try his best to keep his hands off me during practice."

I couldn't see Jerry's reaction, but I could imagine it. I let a small smile slip as I stopped at the fence and began my dynamic warm ups. I went from warm ups to agility drills. For the next thirty minutes, Jerry glared at me. Usually, he would be encouraging me, yelling, or complaining. Not today. I had a feeling he saw his meal ticket slipping through his fingers. I was having doubts about continuing the pro circuit for the first time in my life, so Jerry wasn't far off base. If the worst happened and I voluntarily ended my career or worst-case scenario died, Jerry would find another fledgling to carve into a winner. He wasn't my problem. Getting through the next week alive was.

I tried focusing, I truly did. It wasn't my fault a crazy stalker was killing people or that my bodyguard had the body of Adonis. His low-riding jeans and tight t-shirt had me thinking about tonight. I knew the eyes he hid beneath his shades. My breath hitched with longing to see them flash sexily at me. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his biceps bulging, and his hair ruffling in the slight breeze. I wanted nothing more than to pull that hair and force his lips against mine.

I heard Jerry mutter, "For the love of God save me from overactive hormones," as we walked over to the court to begin backhand agility drills. I saw Meagan, a twenty-something wannabe pro warming up, too. She'd been my practice partner before. Her overall game wasn't up to par and her backhand completely sucked. She hadn't improved over time. If she remained in tennis, her life would dissolve to teaching young rich kids until they outgrew her. She wasn't my favorite person to face across the court and I did not like the obvious fuck-me glances she cast toward Brack. I had to give her credit for her skirt flip, though. I'm sure Brack could fill me in on if she went full Brazilian. I wanted to pull her skirt off, wad it up, and shove it down her throat. I caught Brack turning her way a time or two, which only pissed me off more.

I finished my drills and waited as Jerry had Meagan set up on the other side of the net. We would volley for the next few minutes before getting serious. Sixty-seconds later, my true bitch decided to come out and play. Meagan was a decent baseline player and tried everything she could to make me play her groundstroke game.

Idiot.

She would never learn. If my serve didn't take her down, my backhand would. I used her weaknesses to my advantage. Within a few minutes, I had her running the court at my whim. It didn't matter what she tried, I controlled the play. She was there to work my form and not to challenge me. Too damned bad she didn't get the memo. When she finally managed to return the ball, she threw her hands up in anger. I returned the ball with a forehand stroke adding extra topspin two feet off the net. It slammed Meagan a few inches above her pelvic bone.

Ouch.

"Okay, tiger, that's enough," Brack informed me from courtside.

I looked his way while fighting a grin and shrugged my shoulders in a "who me?" gesture.

"You bitch," Meagan coughed while holding her stomach.

I felt better than I had in weeks. It was sad that evil Olivia had to show herself to take my mind from the horrors of my life. I turned back to Meagan. "You finished giving my boyfriend fuck me eyes or do you want me to jump the net and kick your ass?"

Jerry stormed onto the court and assisted Meagan off. He didn't bother looking my way. I stood my ground until the two of them were about twenty feet away. I strolled over to Brack swishing my skirt for all it was worth. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest watching me come closer. When a foot separated us, he reached out and hauled me in so our chests touched. I needed his lips so badly. They stopped a whisper from mine.

"God, you're sexy as hell when you kick ass," he breathed against me. He didn't give me time to respond. His mouth came down at the same time his hands went to my ass cheeks and lifted me. Wrapping my legs around his hips was pure instinct. I groaned into his mouth when his cock rubbed across my groin.

"That's disgusting," I heard from the opposite sideline.

Too damn bad. If Meagan didn't like it, she could look away. Brack did his bitey lip thing that had my heart skipping beats and my panties going wet. This might go down as my favorite training session ever. His fingers gave my ass a final squeeze before he lowered me slowly down his body. My knees were shaky when my feet touched down.

"Another hour, babe, and we can finish this," I remarked with a wink before I turned. "Come on, Meagan, let's work on my backhand so we can go home."

I don't know what Jerry whispered to her, but she picked up her racquet and stormed over to the other side of the net. Knowing my coach, he probably offered money. I'd seen too many Meagans through the years. I tried to never take my athletic ability for granted. I did not want to be one of the Meagans of this sport.

Though I worked out hard, I took it easy on my practice partner after giving her the belly bruise. I'd proved my point, or maybe Brack had. He was mine.