“No, I won’t. Too much sugar. Maybe instead, we could have coffee somewhere else? A café. Or—” His thumb caressed the back of her hand “—my room?”
No way in hell. She bit back the instinctive response. Mikhail had done nothing wrong. “I have an early start in the morning. I’ll take a raincheck.”
He nodded, as if he hadn’t expected her to say different.
“We had a deal.” Tova stood courtside, her arms folded across her chest. She waited while Alina pummelled the final few balls from the ball machine, then Tova stalked across the court towards her.
“What do you mean?” Alina bent to pick up a stray ball.
“You agreed I would shadow you for the rest of the week. Every night you’ve eaten dinner in your room, but last night, you snuck off for a romantic dinner.”
“You’re being ridiculous.” Alina hit the ball in a high lob that landed in the stands. “I have a private life. I don’t want you in it.”
“My article is about the person inside the tennis dress. Your hopes, your dreams, who you really are. For that, I need to be with you.”
Alina shrugged. “You don’t. My hopes and dreams are to win another grand slam and retain the number one ranking. You don’t need to watch me eat Greek food for that. How did you know what I was doing anyway?”
“I had coffee with Gabriela Mendaro this morning. When she stopped talking about Viva, she mentioned seeing you and Mikhail last night.”
“Then you must realise why you weren’t welcome. Did you want to lie between us in bed as well?”
Tova snorted and came closer. She took the racquet from Alina’s suddenly weak hands and set it on the ground. Her fingers closed around Alina’s own. “We both know that didn’t happen. I’m not pushing you to say anything, Alina, but if you were minded, this is a good chance.”
“What do you mean?” Her mouth was dry, the words stuck to her tongue. She knew, of course, but she wanted Tova to say it.
Tova’s fingers tightened. “You’re from a country that puts all sorts of pressure on its sportspeople to play at the highest level, even if getting there skirts the boundaries of what is acceptable. I know you’re told to conform, and what to say in interviews. I know it’s hard for you. You have family there; you need to consider their well-being.”
Tova took a half-step forward. It was just a small shuffle but it put her firmly in Alina’s personal space. Too close.
Tova’s skin was smooth, silky. Touchable. Her lips, bare of makeup, formed words, but Alina barely heard them. She was transfixed by Tova’s mouth and the potential it offered.
Tova moved closer. Alina’s heart thudded in her throat. Tova was going to kiss her, and, she shouldn’t, she mustn’t, she wouldn’t… but God only knew how badly she wanted to, even though they were on a practice court at the Australian Open with players, coaches, officials, and thousands of fans were milling past.
Tova stepped back. “Daria Gavrilova took Australian citizenship. She came here for the exceptional tennis facilities, but she stayed for love. Martina Navratilova defected to the US from communist Czechoslovakia. Asha Bulbogan now plays under the French flag. Players switch allegiances all the time. That is all I will say.” She bent and picked up a ball. “Now, what is your schedule for the rest of the day? I will follow you around, but this evening you will spend with me.”
Alina glanced around Tova’s choice of restaurant as she entered. It was in a Victorian cottage in a quiet part of Melbourne marked only by a discreet gold-coloured plaque on the door. It was like walking into someone’s living room. But she was greeted politely by a waiter wearing a red suit and a yellow bow-tie and shown down the timber-floored hallway to a tiny room with three tables. Tova was already there, and she stood to greet Alina. The other tables were empty. When they were seated again, the waiter handed them menus handwritten on stiff card, and poured a glass of wine for Tova from the bottle that rested in an ice bucket next to the table.
“No wine for me, thank you,” Alina said. “I’ll have a sparkling mineral water when you’re ready.”
The waiter nodded and disappeared.
“I took the liberty of ordering a local Yarra Valley chardonnay. Do you drink wine?”
“I think I had a glass of something when I was home