Love/Forty Read online

  Table of Contents

  Excerpt

  Praise for Bette McNicholas

  Love/Forty

  Copyright

  In loving memory of Elizabeth “Bette Ann” McNicholas

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  A word about the author…

  Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  “No need to apologize.

  That occurred ten years ago.”

  “What happened?”

  Mercedes turned her right hand over and exposed her scar. “I fell forward, landing all my weight on my wrist with the racquet still in my hand, the joint snapped backward and…well”—she shrugged—“my life was turned topsy-turvy. I still play tennis for pure enjoyment, but I couldn’t bring myself to compete again after the accident. I had pins in my wrist and hand for nearly a year. After all the physical therapy, I no longer had the strength or the will to do what would have been required of me to make a comeback.”

  She watched sincerity and concern deepen the blue of his eyes as he reassessed her. Only another athlete steeped in the discipline of his sport at tournament level could really understand all the hurt, disappointment, upheaval, and broken dreams that accident had meant to her present and her future.

  She paused, remembering, and then steeled herself from looking back—that wouldn’t change anything. She pressed her lips together, tossed back a wisp of hair the warm breeze had worked loose, and lifted her chin, determined to put her best face forward, as she smiled at him.

  Dante ran his thumb gently over her scar, and then touched her wrist to his lips with a light kiss. “I’m very sorry.”

  Praise for Bette McNicholas

  “LOVE/FORTY, a romance set in the glamorous world of professional tennis brims with luscious details. Besides her early crash as an athlete, Mercedes and her brother had childhoods clouded by tragedy and heartbreak. Although the tone of the novel is breezy, it skillfully deals with the difficult subjects that cause the romance’s conflict.

  The breakthrough for both Mercedes and Dante during his championship match is handled with skill and suspense. Add sumptuous details of setting, food, scents, surroundings, paintings and you have an enchanting romance!”

  ~Eileen Charbonneau, author, Waltzing in Ragtime

  ~*~

  MEMORY’S EDGE, another Bette McNicholas story, received “Five Hearts!” from The Romance Studio

  ~*~

  Ms. McNicholas received a Coffee Time Reviewers Recommended Award in recognition for outstanding writing, “above and beyond.”

  Love/Forty

  by

  Bette McNicholas

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Love/Forty

  COPYRIGHT © 2018 by Elizabeth A. McNicholas

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Cover Art by Rae Money, Inc. Design

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Champagne Rose Edition, 2018

  Print ISBN 978-1-5092-1762-5

  Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-1763-2

  Published in the United States of America

  In loving memory of Elizabeth “Bette Ann” McNicholas

  November 21, 1940- September 17, 2017

  Dedication

  To Joyce Armstrong McClay,

  in appreciation of her friendship, prayers,

  and for always being there.

  Without her help

  this novel might never have been published.

  I thank her for all that I learned from her

  about writing—the humor, sexual tension,

  and detailed descriptions.

  A true best friend forever…

  Chapter One

  Paying little attention to where she was headed, Mercedes McFadden dug deep into her tote bag and wondered why, whenever she felt rushed, whatever she needed mysteriously disappeared into the abyss.

  “Finally,” she muttered, grasping her sunglasses. She hurried up the steps only to come to an abrupt halt by a tasseled loafer attached to the long leg of a man casually bobbing his foot up-and-down in the narrow aisle. She raised her head and tossed her hair back to obtain a full view of the stranger’s body.

  Held captive in that single moment, she stared into a pair of famous violet blue eyes. The same eyes that stared at her from tabloids and sports magazines alike, although even the glossiest covers didn’t do him justice. Sexy eyes. Knowing eyes.

  Dante Edwards!

  She recognized him immediately. The American-born, European-raised sensational tennis player now ranked number two in the world. What was this hunk, voted Sexiest Man of the Year, doing in the middle of the desert watching a junior girls’ tennis match? Sitting alone, no less, in the VIP box.

  He appeared casual and self-assured leaning on the arm of his seat, looking cool and comfortable in the Arizona sun, dressed in spotless white linen—a sharp contrast to his dark wavy hair. The shirt was opened loosely at the neck, and the sleeves were neatly folded up to his elbows. A high-priced gold watch, from a sponsor no doubt, along with a gold signet ring accented his olive skin and manicured nails.

  She couldn’t decide whether he reminded her of an ad for an expensive men’s cologne, or for a Mediterranean aperitif.

  His crossed legs exposed part of his bare muscular appendage below the hem of his slacks. His bold gaze, arrogant and, God help her, inviting, traveled up and down the length of her body while he made no effort to remove his bronze limb that still swung in slow motion.

  She felt heat penetrate and flush her cheeks, spurring her forward before she melted on the spot. With a half-nod and a slight upturn of her lips, she slipped on her sunglasses in an effort to compose herself. Gracefully, she stepped around the barricade and hurried on her way.

  Mercedes not only couldn’t believe the effect this man had on her, she couldn’t believe she had acquired all those details about him in such a short time. It concerned her more that she’d even bothered.

  As a sportswriter, she covered the very public and transient lives of national and international athletes and knew many of them were in-and-out of relationships as casually as they changed sweatpants. While she certainly wasn’t interested in becoming a notch on anyone’s jockstrap, she was definitely interested in landing an interview with Dante Edwards.

  A
quick glance up the stadium steps to make certain she was headed in the right direction and the path was obstacle-free, she spied her brother waving with enthusiasm.

  She waved back and wondered if Max had seen Dante seated in the VIP box. She turned around to take a quick glance at the handsome, dark-haired man who had made her blush, only to find him staring back. An appreciative half-smile played about his lips as he took another slow, more deliberate look, something she hadn’t expected and which, had once again suffused her cheeks.

  Even through her dark lenses, his eyes seemed to capture hers, interrupting her flight, causing an adrenaline rush that made her feel uncharacteristically lightheaded. With a brisk shake of her head to clear her mind, she entered the box and joined her brother.

  Max said a quick goodbye to the man he had been speaking with and turned to give her a big hug. “Thanks for coming, Sis. Did you have a good trip?”

  “As good as anyone could have flying these days. Thanks for the driver and limo. I enjoy getting off a plane to find someone standing there holding a placard with my name printed in bold letters. Good thing the driver was familiar with Surprise and didn’t think this town was an illusion in my mind like a mirage, because this place is a long ride from Sky Harbor International Airport. Explains how the city got its name, though. Someone probably couldn’t believe they had managed to cross this far into the Sonoran Desert and still be alive!”

  Max chuckled. “Glad you haven’t lost your sense of humor.”

  “Thanks, and thanks also for the first class ticket. I completed my latest assignment during the flight. You’re lucky I’m freelancing now and am my own boss, more or less.”

  “That’s why I imposed on your generosity. Come and sit. Do you need anything?”

  “An iced tea would be great, but I’ll have to wait ’til after the match. The desert makes me thirsty,” she added, not at all sure the desert had anything to do with her parched throat.

  Mercedes got settled and dumped her copper-colored woven leather tote bag on the chair next to her, reached inside for her tablet and a pen, and sat back to people watch as the spectators filled the seats for the opening ceremony.

  This particular stadium appeared small but not too intimate. With the crowd seated close to the players, the court look undersized, but she knew the dimensions had to be regulation.

  Doing her best to act nonchalant, she stole a glance at the godlike creature a few boxes below her brother’s. He turned his face to the side, providing her with a glimpse of his magnificent Roman profile.

  She appreciated the fact that her brother’s box was located above his, because the thought of Dante Edwards possibly seated behind her, staring, unnerved her. Although, she couldn’t say exactly why that would cause her to react in such a way.

  She couldn’t imagine why he focused on her earlier either, unless maybe she reminded him of someone he knew; she got that a lot. Being a part of his world on any level, much less a romantic one was unthinkable to her. His father, retired now from the diplomatic corps, afforded him a lifestyle that pasted his picture at polo games seated with princes and princesses and at film festivals surrounded by beautiful women, mostly young models, entertainers, and starlets. Seeing him in person helped her understand why even older women, not as insecure as she, found him irresistible, à la Mrs. Robinson.

  “Will you be traveling on assignment any time soon,” Max asked, jolting her out of her reverie, “or will you be planted in New York?”

  “I hope to remain in New York for a while and spend the time getting my new home decorated and put that chore behind me. I need the freedom to be able to come and go without a huge project clogging up my already crowded mind,” she answered, nervously tapping her pencil for no particular reason.

  “Makes sense,” Max agreed. “I can’t blame you for wanting to finish. You took on a huge project. I wish you’d find some time to come home to visit soon.”

  “Soon. I promise. Tell me, how long do you plan to be in Arizona?”

  “Until Sunday, same as you. The tournament will be over Saturday for Lynda, then I’ll head back to Florida.”

  “Great, I wouldn’t want to spend the better part of a week here if you weren’t going to be with me the entire time. I didn’t want to fly all this way to Scottsdale and only stay a day or two. Now, what can you tell me about this girl whose talent you brought me all the way out here to evaluate?”

  “I’ll get to that in a second. First, I want to let you know someone might join us later, possibly for dinner.”

  “That’s fine. Tell me about your new interest before the match begins.”

  “Her name is Lynda Smith, I’m sure you’ve heard of her. Besides being adorable, which plays to the press, she has all the attributes to survive in the tennis world, along with the talent. She’s friendly, kind…”

  “But?” Mercedes asked, raising her eyebrows and tilting her head while she waited for an explanation.

  “I simply need a second opinion, maybe because of her age—she recently turned fifteen. Since you were once a junior champion, I thought you’d be able to give me an honest appraisal and wouldn’t try to persuade me to take her on as a client unless you believe she’s that gifted. I have quite a full stable of talented sports figures and can’t afford to take on someone I’m not sure will be up to the challenge. I have neither the patience nor the time.”

  “Well, I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to study any of the films you sent before I came, although I have seen her play on TV. While you’ve been running the tennis circuit, I’ve been deluged conducting interviews and writing articles for the networks and magazines for the next Winter Olympics. This is a pleasant shift from thinking about bobsledding, ice-skating, and downhill slalom. What we need to focus on is her mental and physical stability and stamina, because she has already proven to be talented. We’ll see if she’s got enough strong points to handle defeat and come back the following week for more.”

  “See, I knew you’d zero in on these factors and give me the benefit of your trained perspective,” Max said, patting her on the arm.

  “The younger players with a lot of promise come out of boot camp so to speak, get an opportunity to play in a major tournament, are surrounded by cameras, realize they are on national TV and lose six-nothing, maybe six-two,” she added, shrugging her shoulder, “if they’re lucky, and the dejection becomes horrific for them. Does Lynda plan on going pro soon?”

  “Her coach thinks she’s ready. She did well in the juniors at Wimbledon last year and if she can improve her standing this year and take the U.S. Open junior title, which is her goal, not to mention the junior championships right here in her hometown in the fall, she wants to move up and get some experience playing a top seed or two.”

  “Sounds good. In order to be awarded points a player has to reach a round where the points are available. To be listed in the Junior World Ranking shows she has enough points to be in the main draw, and that’s something you can’t overlook.”

  “That’s part of what interests me about her. She’s well aware of what she needs to accomplish.”

  “I think Maria Sharapova was only seventeen when she won Wimbledon. The good thing about being fifteen is that she can still compete in the juniors and compete against the pros at the same time.”

  “I’m not too keen about that rule. I believe the athlete should do one or the other, not both. This is one of those controversial subject matters, especially amongst the pros.”

  “I agree. You’ll have to factor that into your decision. However, if you decide she should wait a few more years, her parents may choose to go elsewhere for an agent.”

  “I’ve thought about that, and that’s why your opinion is important. You have to convince me she’s talented enough before I commit. On the other hand, I can’t afford to miss a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

  “The warm up’s almost over—let’s see what she has to offer.”

  Max pointed below. “I noticed y
ou nearly ran into Dante Edwards on your way up here.”

  “Tripped over him, you mean?” she answered in a droll tone.

  “What do you think?”

  Mercedes frowned. “I’m confused. About what?”

  He nodded toward Dante.

  “Too handsome for his own good. What a shame those violet eyes, black hair, and good looks are wasted on a man. I think,” she continued, “I surprised him when I sidestepped past him; I doubt he’s used to that happening often. He has recently been featured on the covers of all the major publications in his quest to rank number one in the world. What’s left after someone becomes number one?” She asked, frowning.

  “Staying number one.”

  “Funny! But, what do you care, anyway?” She nudged her brother’s arm with her elbow.

  “’Cause, he’s the person I’m inviting to join us later.”

  Her eyes widened and her brother hurried to explain, “I made arrangements to meet him before you committed to come. Get this. He’s looking for a new agent. He called me in Florida and wanted to set up a meeting when he got back home. I told him I was headed for Arizona. He said he was in Vegas shooting a magazine ad and video for a collector’s car auction and would be here in Scottsdale at the same time I was to shoot another video. Consequently, not only did we make plans to meet, but you’re going to get the chance to see him in more ads and videos.”

  Mercedes rolled her eyes.

  “Anyway, our negotiations over breakfast earlier were cut short because I had to meet with Lynda’s coach. I promised Dante we’d get together later.”

  “The possibility of signing two new clients in one day is remarkable. How wonderful for you, Max. Your agency seems to be growing by leaps and bounds. Snagging Dante Edwards will be a great boom for your business.”

  “And maybe yours. I’ll be able to hire another agent and more staff members. You could possibly get an exclusive interview.”

  “You think?”

  “I think the way his eyes followed your every move when you came up the steps, he’d be good for your career as well as your personal life.”