Fast acting, p.4
Fast Acting, page 4
“I’ll leave you to it then.” Wendy gave her a sparkling smile and let herself out.
“Okay, then. Here’s how we’re going to play this.” Russell’s eyes ranged over the croquet court and he resisted the urge to press his lips to the ear he was whispering into. Kathleen had emerged from the hotel for the match, apparently bright eyed and bushy tailed, just as they were drawing straws for starting positions. Both of them had drawn late-playing straws, with only Alicia’s sister Grace behind them. “We’re going to play a defensive game to start. See how many balls we can make contact with. Knock them out as often as possible.”
Kathleen cocked her head, ponytail swinging against her neck. Her eyes were hidden behind mirrored sunglasses and shaded by a Nationals ball cap, but her mouth curved provocatively. “Got it. Make contact with a lot of balls.”
“Smartass.” He kept his eyes resolutely fixed on her face, but he had noticed other parts of her anatomy when she had joined the group wearing a preppy pair of khaki shorts and a scoop-necked tee shirt, in deference to the way the temperature had surged from the night before.
Frankly, his temperature had surged a bit, seeing her in this casual-sexy attire. And she seemed perfectly fine this morning, not a trace of a hangover that he could see. He wondered if he had been wrong about how tipsy she had been last night.
“Any other advice, cap’n?” Her head stayed in that sassy tilt, her expression unreadable despite the smirk that still quirked her lips.
“Um. No. You’ve played before?”
She grabbed the brim of her cap, waggling it down more firmly onto her forehead like a pitcher about to throw a fast ball. “Put me in, coach. The Fitzgerald family matches are fucking legendary. Epic grudges and plenty of whacking opponents’ balls into grandma’s rose hedges.”
Of course they are. “Oh, really?”
Swinging her mallet in a wide, fast arc, she brought it to rest in the barest tap against his. “Oh. Really. I have four siblings and thirty first cousins. You picked the right teammate if you want to win this.”
Russell suppressed a laugh as she swiveled on her heel and watched the players as they made their opening shots. Russell, having drawn the third-shortest straw, stepped up for his first play, measured out the distance from the post, set his ball down and gave it a judicious whack. The ball rolled a little weakly, coming to a stop between the first two wickets.
“Lost opportunity.” Kathleen grinned at him from the sidelines.
Squinting at her in the bright sunlight, Russell said, “Whose team are you on?”
“Just giving you a friendly tip…coach.” Lowering her sunglasses, she gave him an exaggerated wink.
“Smartass indeed,” Russell muttered, looking at the ball. She was right. If he had hit it with more power, it would have given him room to maneuver. As it was, he didn’t have much room to make much of a swing with the first wicket bracketing his ball so closely. He tapped it as firmly as he could, getting it through the second wicket and surveyed the distance to the next one. There was a bit of a cluster of balls in the vicinity, and he wondered if he could manage to hit one with his next stroke.
Only one way to find out.
Dammit.
Kathleen assessed Russell’s game as his ball rolled to a stop just shy of Colin’s sister’s. His accuracy was good, but his stroke was too tentative.
They’d never get anywhere like this.
Russell’s turn over, Kathleen adjusted her ball cap, tugging on the ponytail she’d threaded through the opening at the back and wincing when the tug sent a flare of pain through her skull. Setting up her ball she glanced at the first two wickets and gave her ball a smart whack, sending it rolling straight and true, stopping clear of both of them, solidly on the court. Stepping up to it, she assessed the competition. Colin and his brother Simon had already cleared the third wicket on their first round. Colin’s dad’s ball sat at the very entrance of the third wicket, blocking it.
First victim: Colin’s old man.
Rocking her head to ease her neck, Kathleen stepped up to her ball and looked again at Dr. St. Cyr’s. Taking a deep breath, she struck her own ball on the exhale, sending it rolling across the court.
Clack.
Resisting the urge to pump her fist, she stepped up to the balls, her green one nestled up against Dr. St. Cyr’s orange one. “Sorry Doc,” she said, giving the older man a nod of her head. He lowered his own chin, his eyes twinkling with humor. Turning back to the tableau of balls, she rested her sneaker on her own ball and gave it a brisk whack, sending Dr. St. Cyr’s ball bouncing off the court. Addressing herself to her next move, she considered what else lay on this side of the wicket.
No question: the bride had to go.
A small tap brought her green ball to rest against Alicia’s yellow one. This maneuver took a stronger whack of the mallet to send her friend’s ball spinning off the court in the other direction. Russell would have to deal with Colin’s sister. His too tentative stroke had brought him close to Gemma’s ball, but not touching it. If Kathleen tried to send Gemma off the court, she might well end up involving his ball in the clearance as well.
Nope, it was time for the next wicket.
Another moment to consider, another brisk strike and she was through. She considered the lay of the land. Colin first, then his brother Simon.
She suppressed a feral smile. This was almost too easy.
Kathleen walked jauntily off the court, ponytail swinging, her ball resting in position to go through the fifth wicket as Grace surveyed the court for her first turn, advised by her teammate, Dr. St. Cyr.
“How’d I do, coach?”
Russell blinked, his face burning with embarrassment. He’d thought he was the guy with the strategy. And she’d just…she’d just done that. “Where did you learn to play like that?”
“I told you. Fitzgerald matches are legendary. Plus, my dad was a professor at St. John’s College and a huge fan of the annual game against Navy. We used to practice with the Johnnies to get them up to speed. The Fitzgerald advantage, it was called.”
“The Naval Academy plays St. John’s in…croquet?”
“Sure. It’s quite an event. The Johnnies are always kind of chaotic—instead of a regular uniform, they always have a top-secret costume that gets revealed right before the game. The Naval Academy band plays swing music, there’s a color guard display, people dress up, bring picnics…on a gorgeous day in Annapolis there’s nothing better. You should come sometime.”
Colin took his turn, just getting back onto the court, then approached them, mallet resting on his shoulder. “Here I thought you had an ulterior motive, claiming Kathleen as your partner. But it wasn’t the one I thought.” His elbow nudged Russell’s ribs and Russell had to laugh.
“If I had only known, I would have claimed her twice as fast.”
“Ulterior motive? I have no idea what you would mean.” Kathleen’s mouth was prim and what he could see of her expression was innocent, but Russell would just bet that her eyes were sparkling with laughter behind the mirrored sunglasses and if there was a flush on the crest of her cheekbones, he guessed it wasn’t just from the strong sunshine.
Russell fought with his mouth’s urge to grin. “Well, I do have to put up with extra helpings of sass.”
Kathleen waved a hand. “Oh, that’s just an added benefit. It’s good for you. Like drinking water and taking vitamins.”
Alicia joined the group then. “Who knew you were a ringer, Kathleen?”
Kathleen rocked back onto her heels then forward onto her toes. “Besides me? Nobody. It’s not exactly something I put on my résumé.” She lifted a hand, mimed writing in the air. “Basic swordplay, fluent in French, horseback riding, singing, croquet…”
Russell blinked. “You put stuff like that on your résumé?”
Watching Dr. St. Cyr navigate his ball back to the court, she said, “Sure. You never know what you might need for a role.” She shouldered her mallet and tapped her lips with a fingertip. “Maybe I should put croquet on…”
Shaking his head, Russell wondered what it would be like to have a résumé filled with odd talents and obscure skills rather than a curriculum vitae filled with journal articles and conference presentations.
Suddenly his career felt very…boring.
“Russell, you’re up.”
Brought back from his musings, Russell looked at the court. Gemma, despite having the opportunity to take him out, had apparently decided on trying to advance her ball through the court. He had a clear shot at the third wicket. If he managed not to screw that up, he would have the opportunity to clear at least one opponent’s ball.
He owed it to his pride—and his partner—to do at least that much.
Leaning in to murmur in Kathleen’s ear, he breathed in her scent. Sunshine-warmed skin and coconut sunscreen instead of the light floral fragrance of the night before. It was just as appealing. “All right, coach. Any advice?”
Chapter 5
“Oh, then there was the time just after they met when he nearly killed me because she existed,” Russell said as the general laughter abated around the lunch table the hotel staff had set up on the lawn in the shade of a tall maple tree.
“What the bloody bollocks are you talking about, Russ?” Colin leaned back in his chair, one eyebrow raised.
Russell picked up his glass and sipped, icy water sliding down his throat in a refreshing rush. He hadn’t realized how parched he had gotten while everyone vied for second place as Kathleen schooled them on the croquet court. Putting down the glass, he mirrored his friend’s expression, lifting his own eyebrow. “You don’t remember that time at the gym right after you met Alicia?”
Colin rolled his eyes. “Really, mate? That lame story?”
“Yes, mate.” Russell looked around the table, seeing all eyes on him—eager as a class of students in the review class before an exam.
Pity those same students weren’t as avid the rest of the semester.
Anyway.
“Okay. Here’s the scene: Col and I are working out together. He’s just tossed off about a million bench presses in that annoying way he does and now he’s spotting feeble old me as I take my turn. Except he’s not. Because his attention has been grabbed by a certain blondie across the gym.”
Russell paused and everybody’s eyes swiveled down the table to Alicia, her light blond hair gleaming in the sunshine filtering through the leaves.
“What? I was never in your gym.” Alicia’s brown eyes were wide.
“Exactly. Colin’s eye had been drawn by some meathead with a bleached-blond man bun. He imprinted on Alicia so fast, just the sight of a blond head of hair was enough to leave his gym partner to strangle under the bar of the bench press.”
“And yet, you live.” Colin’s voice had descended to a gravelly rumble, but his mouth was twitching with the effort to suppress a smile.
“No thanks to you, my friend.” Russell raised his water glass and Colin raised his in return. The rest of the group raised their glasses—really you would think that this crowd would have had enough of toasts after last night, but the mood was cranking towards giddy as the minutes ticked toward the actual wedding.
“You and Colin are workout buddies?” Kathleen’s warm breath heated Russell’s ear and he nearly closed his eyes from the pleasure of it.
Turning to face her, he saw she had ditched the sunglasses and her eyes were shining with humor and curiosity. “Yeah. Though I think Colin cheats on me with other workout partners. Or the guy has some sort of super-genes. He’s jacked.”
Kathleen’s eyes crinkled with humor and warmth. “Eh. Colin. Eff that guy.” Her fingers flicked dismissively.
A surprised laugh huffed out of Russell. “Oh, because he’s such a dog?”
Kathleen rocked her hand from side to side in a “so-so” motion. “He’s fine. He’s like a brother to me now. I have my sights elsewhere.”
Russell’s pulse picked up. “You do?”
Kathleen leaned back in her chair and sipped her water, her face enigmatic and her eyes smiling. “I do.”
“Well, my darling, I have just received a text informing me that the justice of the peace will be here in an hour.” Colin held up his phone. “Shall we make it official?”
Alicia’s smile in reply was practically fierce. “If we must.”
Kathleen shook her head and leaned toward Russell. “This has to be the weirdest, most casual wedding ever.”
The corner of his mouth twitched up. “It is. But I have to say, it suits them.”
“True.” She finished her glass of water. The last lingering shreds of her headache and light sensitivity had dissipated on the croquet court and she felt like herself again. “I guess I’d better get gussied up for the big event.” Grabbing her sunglasses off the table, she winked at Russell, who stood and pulled her chair out for her. “Thanks. You’re quite the gentleman, you know that?”
Russell’s head dipped in a nod. “I try.”
Kathleen leaned forward and whispered, “You succeed.”
His expression was an odd mixture of humor and something darker, something like regret. Kathleen lifted her eyebrows in inquiry at him, but he just shook his head. “Go get dressed. I can’t wait to see the next thing that emerges from that steamer trunk you call a suitcase.”
Kathleen smirked. “I have to pick something out on my own this time?”
He spread his hands wide as if in invitation. “Surprise me.”
“Okay, then.”
Walking back to her room, she mused over the choices she had brought with her. Hell, she already knew what she was going to wear. Time to bring out the big guns. And go light on the wine. Then maybe I’ll get more than a touch on the cheek for my trouble.
A quick shower to wash off the sunscreen, a few tweaks with a curling iron to get the ponytail-kink out of her hair, and a rapid application of makeup later, she shimmied into an emerald green wrap dress. Putting on the gold pendant from the night before, she added earrings and put on her shoes. Surveying herself in the full-length mirror, she nodded briefly.
“That’ll do.”
Leaving her room, she went down the hall to the suite where Alicia and Colin were staying. Tapping on the door, she called out, “How’s the wedding party doing? Need any help in there?” The door opened almost immediately and Grace, wearing something that bridged the gap between goth and cute, waved her inside. Practically the entire female contingent was there.
“I thought so,” Kathleen said, accepting a glass of champagne from Gemma who was wearing a fantastic electric blue caftan. “Where’s the woman of the hour?”
“In the bedroom,” Wendy said, saluting Kathleen with her glass, her own goldenrod dress making her brown skin glow.
“Please tell me that the groom has gone somewhere else to get ready or we’ll never get this shindig off the ground.”
Gemma laughed, a giddy sound. “Yes, my little brother took off a half hour ago—he’s camping out in Russell’s room to change.”
Kathleen snorted. “Little brother? Gemma, he’s six-four if he’s an inch and he’s huge.”
“Baby brother, then.” The other woman’s dark eyes danced with humor and mischief. Kathleen decided she liked Colin’s sister. She had some sort of incredibly important job doing medical research in England and Kathleen had expected to find her intimidating, but Gemma was relaxed and easy to talk to, with an appealing, earthy sense of humor.
“That makes it so much better.” Kathleen clinked her glass against Gemma’s. “So 'Lis doesn’t need any help?”
“I don’t think so. She’s rejected all offers, at any rate.”
“Hm.” Kathleen walked over to the closed door of the bedroom and tapped on it. “Fifteen minutes to curtain, Miss Johnson, soon to be Mrs. St. Cyr.”
The door opened and Alicia stepped through. Kathleen’s breath caught in her throat. She glanced back into the living room, the other women’s faces reflecting her own wonder, then back at her friend. “Oh my god, Alicia.”
“Okay, huh?”
“Colin’s going to lose his mind.”
Alicia’s dress was a column of ivory, bias-cut silk. Simple, chic, and devastating. Her short hair swept back from her forehead, caught in a delicate band of worked gold. Her makeup and jewelry were minimal, highlighting the architecture of her face the same way her dress did her lovely figure.
Alicia received a champagne glass from her sister and held it aloft. “Let’s get this party started, then.”
Russell slid his arms into his suit coat and shrugged it on. Checking his tie in the mirror, he suppressed a chuckle as he caught Colin look at his watch for what was probably the seventeenth time in five minutes. “A little eager to get on with things?”
Colin shot his cuff over his watch and attempted to look unconcerned. “I’m fine.”
“You’re hopping like grease on a hot griddle.”
A knock on the door made Colin sprint across the room. He opened it to reveal Colin’s brother Simon and Dr. St. Cyr, carrying a bottle of whiskey and glasses.
“Gemma tells us that Alicia’s just about ready,” Dr. St. Cyr said as Simon poured. “I thought we would have a small toast to your future together before everything gets started.”
A lump rose in Russell’s throat. Colin’s eyes looked suspiciously moist and he coughed. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Even if this means you probably never will be moving back to England.” Dr. St. Cyr’s expression was mischievous, though Russell knew he had long expected Colin to return. “To my son and his bride. Congratulations. May you have a long and very happy life together.”
The four men lifted their glasses, bringing them together with a muted clink. Russell sipped and thumped his friend on the shoulder with an open palm. “Congratulations, man.” He had been there through the couple’s ups and downs and knew how hard they had worked to get to this moment, the differences they’d had to bridge.
