“Now, listen,” Ray said. “My friend rearranged Anton’s schedule so that his lesson with Mallory Cavendish includes him coaching her to play against a woman who is looking to join the club and be coached by him as well. He’s expecting you to be a player of some skill as Mallory is a serious player and is training to play in the club tournament.”
Mel stopped walking. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
“What?” Ray goggled at her. “Of course you can. Need I remind you we took on a crazed killer just a few months ago?”
“Yeah, that’s not the argument that’s going to work here,” she said.
“Listen, you want to know if the Child Bride is the killer and I need a shot of the tennis pro being inappropriate with her,” he said. “Mel, I have five hundred bones at stake here. Now, get moving.”
“Fine, but if we get into trouble, we’re telling Joe it was all your idea,” she said.
They began to walk by the courts. Mel watched tan women in cute skirts with matching tops and visors hustle around the court as they whacked all of their life rage out on the little yellow-green balls. She didn’t want to be presumptuous, but there appeared to be a lot of anger management happening out there.
“There they are,” Ray said. He handed Mel her racket and took out his phone. He opened the camera app and then held the phone up to his ear as if taking a call. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”
“So, let me get this straight,” Mel said. “I’m supposed to get her to admit she has video of her husband threatening Elise while you catch her in a clinch with her coach.”
“Yeah, so if she doesn’t admit to having the video, try to get her to confess to fooling around with her ball boy.”
Mel rolled her eyes. “This is so stupid.”
Ray opened the gate to the court, which slammed shut after them with a bang, making Mel jump. She had the panicked thought that Mallory might remember her from the book signing, but even if she did, Mel had just been working it and during Child Bride’s altercation with Elise, Mel had been back at her table.
Mallory looked like a model in her sexy hot pink halter top and tennis skirt with the slit up one thigh. Mel glanced down at her polo shirt and pleats and felt like she was in a Catholic schoolgirl uniform. She frowned at Ray.
He waved at the coach and then gestured that he was on a call. The pro looked at him in his leather jacket with a frown and Mel figured she’d better jump in and distract him before he realized they were just a big sham, the canned ham of shams in fact.
“Hi, I’m Melanie,” she said. “I’m here for a lesson.”
Mallory frowned at her and glanced at Ray. “Who’s that?”
“My . . . dog walker,” she said. There was no way she could say “bodyguard” with a straight face. She saw Ray’s eyebrows meet in the middle of his forehead in consternation. Served him right for sticking her in this hideous outfit and for getting the size wrong.
“Dog walker?” Mallory asked. “Where’s your dog?”
“He’s having his weekly therapy session,” Mel said. “He has issues, so Raymond came with me today.”
“Oh,” Mallory said. It was clear she had no idea what to make of Mel or Ray. She gestured to the tennis pro beside her. “This is Anton Argosi, our coach.”
“I see on my schedule that you are a talented tennis player, looking to join the club. You are pleased to join us today,” Anton said.
Mel blinked. His slash of white teeth was so spectacularly perfect that she was temporarily blinded. Add in his perfect physique, thick head of dark curls, and Italian accent and Mel was halfway to smitten herself.
She glanced at Mallory, who looked utterly entranced by the pro. Yeah, if there wasn’t something going on between them Mel would swallow her tennis racket.
“May you go across the court,” Anton said. He gestured for Mel to take the other side.
Mel didn’t really see how she was going to question Mallory from over there. She glanced at Ray and he made a shooing motion with his hands for her to go.
Mel twirled, grabbing the waist of her skirt as she went to keep it from falling down. She moved into position and stood hunched over with her racket across her body, trying to do her best Serena Williams pose. Given that she barely knew how to swing a racket, it felt forced. She rocked from foot to foot, shifting her weight, trying to look ready.
“You return the ball, yes?” Anton yelled.
Mel nodded. Sure, if a small miracle was involved.
Anton took Mallory to the base line. He stood behind her and demonstrated with lots of hands-on instruction how she should toss the ball into the air and then hit it. One ball whizzed by Mel on the right. Another ball whizzed by her on the left. When the third one came at her dead center, she yelped and hit the ground, putting her racket over her head.
There was a snort of laughter from the sidelines and Mel glanced over to see Ray with a fist at his mouth, as if he could force himself to swallow the laughter that was trying to roar up out of him. She wanted to hit him with her racket.
“Miss, are you all right?” Anton jogged towards the net, leaping over it as if it were no higher than the curb. He knelt beside her and Mel felt her face get hot under his concerned gaze. This was mortifying.
She pushed off the ground and Anton gently hooked her under the arms and pulled her to her feet. Mel was a tall girl but Anton topped her by a couple inches.
“Bella, oh, you have . . . here.” Anton reached up and
