Chapter 102

 

Elena took the iron in both hands.

It was heavier than she expected.

She copied Richard's stance from a moment ago, set her feet apart, and raised the club with what she thought was a fairly convincing imitation.

Almost immediately, something felt wrong.

The club was too long.

 

At five-seven, Elena wasn't particularly short, but this club had been fitted for a man nearly six-five. No matter how she adjusted herself, the setup felt awkward. If she straightened her arms, she couldn't settle comfortably over the ball. If she bent farther forward to compensate, her weight shifted too far onto her toes.

"Your stance is wrong."

Richard's voice came from very close behind her.

Before Elena could turn, he stepped in.

There was suddenly barely any space left between them.

His chest brushed her back as his arms came around her, and Elena became far too aware of exactly how much larger he was.

Her ears began to burn.

"Feet a little farther apart."

His voice was low beside her ear.

Richard nudged the inside of her ankle lightly with his shoe, guiding her into a wider stance.

Elena obeyed.

"Bend your knees a little. Keep your weight centered. Don't rise onto your toes."

His palm settled against the curve of her hip, warm and firm even through the fabric.

Elena's breath caught.

She looked down at his hand.

"Where exactly are you putting your hand?"

"I'm fixing your stance."

Richard sounded perfectly innocent.

"Your hand seems very committed to the job."

"Don't overthink it."

Elena stared straight ahead.

Right.

Of course.

His arms came around her again, his hands covering hers on the grip.

"Left hand higher. Right hand below it."

He adjusted her fingers one by one.

"Don't squeeze too hard."

His palms were rougher than hers, faint calluses brushing her skin as he repositioned each finger.

By the time he finished, Elena was effectively enclosed between Richard and the club.

His arms bracketed hers. His chest was warm against her back, and every time he spoke, his breath brushed the side of her face.

She could smell the clean, woody scent of his cologne.

"Now the backswing."

Richard guided her hands slowly backward.

"Don't generate everything with your arms. Turn through your shoulders and hips."

His body moved with hers as he demonstrated the motion.

"You dance. You already understand how power transfers through the body better than most beginners."

He sounded completely serious.

Patient.

Almost professional.

Unfortunately, Elena wasn't processing a single word.

His chest is ridiculously hard.

His hands are huge.

Why is he so warm?

And why does he smell this good?

Golf had officially stopped being the problem.

"Understand?"

His mouth was suddenly close enough to her ear that the word seemed to brush across her skin.

Elena shivered.

"Yes. Completely."

She had understood absolutely nothing.

Richard was quiet for a second.

Then, mercifully, he stepped half a pace away.

"Try it yourself."

Elena exhaled.

She tightened her grip, tried to reconstruct whatever he had supposedly just taught her, took a breath—

and swung.

The club cut sharply through the air.

The ball remained exactly where it was.

Elena's momentum carried her forward.

Before she could recover, Richard's arm caught her firmly around the waist and pulled her back.

She landed against him again.

For one ridiculous second, Elena wondered whether this entire lesson had somehow been designed to keep putting her back in exactly the same position.

Her head bumped his chest.

"Ow."

She rubbed the back of her head and looked up at him indignantly.

"I wasn't going to fall. My balance is good. I just haven't figured out the swing yet."

Richard looked at her stubborn expression.

Then he laughed.

Elena's eyes narrowed.

"You said you understood."

"I thought I understood!"

She immediately pointed at him.

"This is your fault. You were standing so close I couldn't concentrate."

The words escaped before she could stop them.

Richard's eyebrow rose.

Elena instantly regretted everything.

"You couldn't concentrate?"

There was unmistakable amusement in his eyes now.

"Because of me?"

Elena instinctively leaned back.

"Anyone standing that close would be distracting."

"Anyone?"

"Yes."

She searched desperately for an example.

 

"Even my dad."

Richard's mouth curved.

"The same father you called an old bastard on the phone?"

Elena went silent.

"...Mr. Sterling, surely your brain has more valuable information to store."

"I'm not going to run out of memory because I remember one particularly memorable insult."

"Please don't start another lecture."

"You brought up my brain."

"I did not ask for specifications."

Richard laughed softly.

 

"Besides, emotionally significant information tends to stick. And since I happen to like you, things involving you receive considerably more attention than they otherwise would."

Elena's cheeks warmed again.

"You keep talking about psychology for someone who claims he didn't study psychology."

"If you study the brain, you read a great deal of psychology research."

"That sounds annoyingly reasonable."

Richard took the club from her.

He walked over to the rack, selected another iron, and returned.

This one was noticeably shorter.

"Use this."

Elena accepted it.

The difference was immediate.

The club felt lighter and far more natural in her hands.

She looked down at it.

Then at the club Richard had taken from her.

Then at Richard.

"Wait."

He said nothing.

Elena's eyes narrowed.

"If this was here the whole time, why did you give me yours?"

"I forgot."

Elena stared at him.

Richard's expression remained perfectly calm.

"You forgot."

"Yes."

"You."

"Yes."

"The man who just spent ten minutes explaining why his brain remembers everything related to me."

A brief silence.

Richard looked at her.

Elena looked back.

Her eyes widened.

"You did that on purpose."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Elena stepped closer and poked him in the chest.

"You wanted an excuse to put your hands on me."

Richard glanced down at her finger.

Then back at her.

"I don't generally need an excuse."

Elena's face went hot.

"That is not the point."

"Then what is?"

She opened her mouth.

Nothing came out.

Richard's smile deepened.

"That's what I thought."

"You're shameless."

"I've been called worse."

Elena wanted to be annoyed.

The heat still lingering in her face made that considerably less convincing.

She snatched the shorter club back into position.

"Stay over there."

Richard obediently moved a full step away.

Elena turned toward the ball.

This was exactly what she had wanted.

Apparently.

She adjusted her grip.

Why did the practice area suddenly feel colder?

Elena frowned at the ball.

Absolutely ridiculous.

This time, Richard stayed behind and slightly to her side, arms folded across his chest.

"Relax your shoulders."

Elena lowered them.

"Good. Bend your knees slightly."

She did.

"A little more."

She adjusted.

"Square the clubface."

Elena checked it.

"Keep your eyes on the ball when you turn. Don't move your head with the club."

She followed each instruction carefully.

Without Richard pressed against her, she could finally think.

Which was good.

Obviously.

Her coordination had never been a problem. Years of dance had made her good at copying physical movements, and after a few corrections, the swing began to feel much less unnatural.

"Try it."

Elena drew the club back.

She swung.

The club struck the ball with a clean click.

The white ball lifted into the air.

It didn't travel particularly far, and its path was hardly elegant, but it flew.

Elena's eyes widened.

"I hit it!"

She spun around in excitement, still holding the club.

"Did you see that? I actually hit it!"

Richard stepped forward and caught her by the waist before the club in her hand could swing anywhere dangerous.

"Careful."

Elena was still grinning.

"But you saw it, right?"

"I saw."

"And?"

Richard looked down at her.

"You want praise?"

"Obviously."

"Come here."

"I'm already—"

He kissed her.

Elena's unfinished sentence disappeared against his mouth.

This one wasn't the quick, teasing kiss from earlier.

Richard's arm tightened around her waist, drawing her closer as he kissed her slowly, giving her enough time to realize exactly what he was doing—and then to stop caring.

The club in Elena's hand gradually lowered toward the grass.

When he finally drew back, she remained against him for a second, slightly breathless.

Richard looked entirely too satisfied with himself.

Elena blinked.

"That was my reward?"

 

"You're complaining?"

"I'm evaluating the compensation package."

Richard's mouth curved.

"Very Sterling of you."

"I learned from the worst."

"Then perhaps the package needs improvement."

Before Elena could answer, he bent toward her again.

She immediately put one hand against his chest.

"Wait."

Richard stopped.

Elena narrowed her eyes.

"We are still playing golf."

"Are we?"

"Yes."

He glanced at the abandoned ball.

Then at her.

"I was beginning to wonder."

Elena poked him again.

 

"This is supposed to be a lesson."

"It is."

"You deliberately gave me the wrong club so you could put your hands all over me."

"I corrected your stance."

"You were enjoying correcting my stance."

Richard didn't answer.

He didn't need to.

Elena's eyes widened.

"You're not even denying it!"

"Would you believe me if I did?"

"No."

"Then we've saved time."

Elena stared at him.

This man was impossible.

She tried to step out of his arms.

Richard let her go—but only after his hand lingered at her waist for one extra second.

Elena noticed.

Of course she noticed.

She turned away before he could see the fresh heat in her face.

"Another ball."

Richard picked one up.

 

"Yes, ma'am."

"Don't sound so pleased with yourself."

"I'm having a good day."

"I wonder why."

He placed the ball on the grass.

Elena stepped into position, adjusted her hands, and glanced back at him suspiciously.

"You stay there."

Richard raised both hands.

"I'm not touching you."

"Good."

 

Elena faced forward.

Two seconds passed.

She looked back again.

Richard was still standing exactly where she had ordered him to.

 

For some reason, that annoyed her too.

His eyebrow lifted.

"Problem?"

"No."

"Then hit the ball, Ellie."

Elena turned around.

 

A quiet laugh came from behind her.

She bit back a smile and raised the club.