The Heiress Hunt (The Fifth Avenue Rebels #1) - Joanna Shupe Page 0,2

it out.”

Maddie twirled a lawn tennis racket in her hand and studied her childhood friend from afar as he approached the court. He was back.

Three years had passed since she’d seen Harrison Archer, with no word from him in all that time, and now he’d written a vague note last night to request her help.

She wasn’t certain how to feel about that. While she was happy to see him, part of her still bristled that he’d dismissed their friendship so easily. She wasn’t accustomed to being forgotten by those whom she considered close friends.

Christopher “Kit” Ward, had tagged along with Harrison this morning, but Maddie hardly noticed him, her gaze remaining locked on Harrison. The morning sun framed his face, illuminating his sharp cheekbones and strong jaw. While full lips and a straight nose complemented his perfect face, it was his piercing blue eyes that had caused debutantes to swoon.

Maddie hadn’t thought much of his appeal back then, they were friends for so long, but this Harrison was . . . different. He walked with more confidence, his back straight and proud. His frame was bulkier than the college boy she remembered, with wider shoulders and a broader chest, and thick thighs that pulled tight against his white trousers.

A spark caught deep in her belly, a flare of appreciation that was entirely new—and unwanted. You shouldn’t be ogling him in such a crass manner.

Yet she couldn’t stop.

Goodness, he’d become a fully grown man—and a beautiful one, at that.

Exhaling, she stared at her feet and pushed away any fascination with his appearance. There had never been anything resembling desire between them—and she would not embarrass herself by starting now.

After all, they had known each other forever. She’d been an only child desperate for a friend and he’d been a boy eager to escape his family. They had explored, swum, ridden bicycles and played together each summer since she was ten and he was twelve, the two of them nearly inseparable.

Until he’d left without a word during her debut. He hadn’t returned to college for his senior year, instead disappearing to Europe.

Soon, stories of his Parisian escapades began reaching her ears. Women, parties, friendships with artists and cabaret dancers . . . Then she stopped listening because she didn’t recognize this reprobate, the one arrested by Parisian gendarmes for cavorting with anarchists. Oh, yes. She’d heard that one, too.

Meanwhile, life in New York had carried on. Maddie threw herself into her love for tennis and decided to craft a plan for her future:

Practice every day without fail.

Hire Valentine Livingston, the finest doubles player in America, to act as her coach.

Push off marriage for two years so she could play competitive tennis across the country.

Marry at the end of her third season, making the very best match possible.

Thank goodness her mother and father had agreed.

This past spring, three years of hard work and carefully laid plans had finally paid off. She had qualified for the All-Comers competition at the Philadelphia Cricket Club at the end of June, also known as the U.S. National Championships.

It was her ultimate dream to become the top women’s tennis player in the country.

“About time you arrived,” she said as the men walked up. “I was afraid I’d need to play alone.”

“Good morning,” Kit said, kissing her cheek. “Have we thrown off your precious schedule?”

“You know you have. My whole day is booked and I must get in my practice.”

“Blame this one.” Kit jerked a thumb in the other man’s direction. “He made me wait forever.”

“I had to dig out the tennis whites.” Harrison’s voice was a deep rumble that rolled through her chest. “It’s been a while since I’ve played. Hello, Maddie.”

“Hello, Harrison. I see you’ve returned from Paris.”

“Just yesterday.”

“Ah.”

Silence stretched. There was knowledge in his blue eyes, all their shared conversations, the sly smiles. A hundred jokes, a thousand secrets. He was at once so familiar and yet a complete stranger. Her throat burned with questions and recriminations, as well as stories of what he’d missed while he was away. But that was for her old friend. She had no idea what to say to the man standing in front of her now.

She willed him to offer up something—an apology? An excuse? Anything to help her understand his absence—but he remained silent, watching her. Was he also taking in the changes since they’d last seen each other? Thinking of their past history and wondering what happened?

One thing was clear. Their friendship hadn’t meant as much to him