very exciting
to watch the matches she’d played. I hadn’t paid an awful lot of attention to
the ball or the rackets or even the other players though. I’d just let my gaze
wander over Nadia’s delectable figure for the duration of her matches. The
determined set of her face throughout, the bounce of her glossy brunette
ponytail, her muscular yet feminine legs, the slight jig of the breasts that her
sports top couldn’t quite keep in check… she was gorgeous. And I really liked
her personality too. She’d looked after me so well since I’d been at the
academy. Been a mentor of sorts.
When I reached the group they were still exchanging kisses,
handshakes and claps on the back with Connolly. I tried to catch his eye, give
him the thumbs-up or something, but he was too caught up in Marie, the
academy’s psychologist. And given the way he’d picked her up and spun her around
and was now kissing her, I suspected she was a little more than that to him.
They carried on kissing for a little while, clearly uncaring
of the millions of people who were watching them either in person or on the
television. Finally Connolly pulled away, took Marie’s hand and dropped to one
knee. I gasped—and I wasn’t the only one. Similar sounds echoed around me and
people started to murmur. Was he really going to…?
Yes, it seemed he was. Glad I was close enough to hear what
he was saying, I waited, eager to know what would happen next. Would she say
yes? Women all over the world would marry him in a heartbeat, I was sure, but
perhaps Marie felt differently.
“Marie Sherratt,” Connolly said, clearing his throat, then
continuing. “Marie Sherratt, I know we didn’t have the most auspicious of
starts, what with me not being into psychobabble and all, but now, months down
the line, I don’t care about that. All I care about is that the most caring,
giving, intelligent, beautiful and sexy woman on the planet loves me and I love
her. And more than anything, I want to make it official. So I have a question
to ask. Marie, will you marry me?”
The crowd held its collective breath for a millisecond then
erupted in cheers, screams and wolf-whistles. Such was the din that in spite of
the short distance I couldn’t hear her reply, but the beaming grin on her face
and her body language indicated that she’d said yes. As did the fact that her
now-fiancé picked her up and swung her around again. They were a couple very
much in love, and although it was nice to see it also made me feel a little sad
and quite a lot jealous.
Instinctively I looked around for Nadia, whom I hadn’t seen
since she’d left the court after her devastating defeat. That had been when I’d
headed to the center court to see Connolly play. I’d thought perhaps Nadia
would make her way into the crowd to watch the rest of the tournament but I
couldn’t spot her. It didn’t mean she wasn’t there, of course. The stadium held
rather a lot of people and she was just one face among thousands. But she was
very important to me.
Before long I was swept up in the excitement of the Los
Carlos gang, what with a Grand Slam win and a marriage proposal, and I didn’t
get a chance to continue looking for Nadia. As soon as I heard mention of a
celebratory party that evening, though, I found myself hoping I’d bump into her
there.
* * * * *
Back at the hotel later that day, I was spending time
dithering over my wardrobe. Not the actual thing made of wood, obviously, but
the garments inside. I’d known there would be some swanky events taking place
in New York over the course of the US Open, but I didn’t know the venues, or
how many. As a result I’d brought pretty much every posh dress I owned. And as
I stood gazing at them all I couldn’t decide whether it was a blessing or a
curse. I was sure to have something that would catch Nadia’s eye, but only if I
actually picked something, put it on and got to the damn party.
Then there was the small matter of finding out
to watch the matches she’d played. I hadn’t paid an awful lot of attention to
the ball or the rackets or even the other players though. I’d just let my gaze
wander over Nadia’s delectable figure for the duration of her matches. The
determined set of her face throughout, the bounce of her glossy brunette
ponytail, her muscular yet feminine legs, the slight jig of the breasts that her
sports top couldn’t quite keep in check… she was gorgeous. And I really liked
her personality too. She’d looked after me so well since I’d been at the
academy. Been a mentor of sorts.
When I reached the group they were still exchanging kisses,
handshakes and claps on the back with Connolly. I tried to catch his eye, give
him the thumbs-up or something, but he was too caught up in Marie, the
academy’s psychologist. And given the way he’d picked her up and spun her around
and was now kissing her, I suspected she was a little more than that to him.
They carried on kissing for a little while, clearly uncaring
of the millions of people who were watching them either in person or on the
television. Finally Connolly pulled away, took Marie’s hand and dropped to one
knee. I gasped—and I wasn’t the only one. Similar sounds echoed around me and
people started to murmur. Was he really going to…?
Yes, it seemed he was. Glad I was close enough to hear what
he was saying, I waited, eager to know what would happen next. Would she say
yes? Women all over the world would marry him in a heartbeat, I was sure, but
perhaps Marie felt differently.
“Marie Sherratt,” Connolly said, clearing his throat, then
continuing. “Marie Sherratt, I know we didn’t have the most auspicious of
starts, what with me not being into psychobabble and all, but now, months down
the line, I don’t care about that. All I care about is that the most caring,
giving, intelligent, beautiful and sexy woman on the planet loves me and I love
her. And more than anything, I want to make it official. So I have a question
to ask. Marie, will you marry me?”
The crowd held its collective breath for a millisecond then
erupted in cheers, screams and wolf-whistles. Such was the din that in spite of
the short distance I couldn’t hear her reply, but the beaming grin on her face
and her body language indicated that she’d said yes. As did the fact that her
now-fiancé picked her up and swung her around again. They were a couple very
much in love, and although it was nice to see it also made me feel a little sad
and quite a lot jealous.
Instinctively I looked around for Nadia, whom I hadn’t seen
since she’d left the court after her devastating defeat. That had been when I’d
headed to the center court to see Connolly play. I’d thought perhaps Nadia
would make her way into the crowd to watch the rest of the tournament but I
couldn’t spot her. It didn’t mean she wasn’t there, of course. The stadium held
rather a lot of people and she was just one face among thousands. But she was
very important to me.
Before long I was swept up in the excitement of the Los
Carlos gang, what with a Grand Slam win and a marriage proposal, and I didn’t
get a chance to continue looking for Nadia. As soon as I heard mention of a
celebratory party that evening, though, I found myself hoping I’d bump into her
there.
* * * * *
Back at the hotel later that day, I was spending time
dithering over my wardrobe. Not the actual thing made of wood, obviously, but
the garments inside. I’d known there would be some swanky events taking place
in New York over the course of the US Open, but I didn’t know the venues, or
how many. As a result I’d brought pretty much every posh dress I owned. And as
I stood gazing at them all I couldn’t decide whether it was a blessing or a
curse. I was sure to have something that would catch Nadia’s eye, but only if I
actually picked something, put it on and got to the damn party.
Then there was the small matter of finding out
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