to catch up. Sounds great!’ Spending some time with someone other than herself sounded like too good an opportunity to miss – especially someone like Liam.
‘Excellent!’ He pulled a card out of his back pocket and handed it to her. ‘Call me after the match and I’ll see if we can find something more potent to drink than an untouched pint – I have the next week off so I can let loose.’ His grin exploded into a heartfelt smile.
‘Sure!’ Eloise looked down at the card. ‘Noah?’
‘Yeah, that’s me. Liam Noah Levique. Not using my real name makes it easier for me to stay incognito when I meet beautiful strangers, and my nan always called me Noah, so it sort of stuck as my tennis name.’
‘Well, that makes sense. I’m not great at the whole tennis thing but at least I’ve heard of Noah Levique. You really did give Ivan a hard time.’ She knew more than anyone how flustered and aching Ivan had been after such a brutal match. Noah had put up a mammoth fight.
‘And I hope to do it again, only next time I’ll win.’ He winked at her as a flustered man began approaching from the stands. ‘Gotta go – see ya, Elle! Call me. Tonight!’ He held his forefinger and thumb to the side of his face as once again he jogged away from her with the boundless energy of an excitable puppy.
Eloise held the card to her chest and couldn’t help but smile as she considered the amazing coincidence that Liam was actually Noah Levique, a professional tennis player – and obviously a good one at that. Never in a million years …
She heard the polite announcement asking everyone to find their seats as soon as possible and settled in to watch her first ever professional tennis match.
The young woman next to her was dressed in blue, with her face covered in blue and yellow zinc.
‘Who are you going for, Russia or Sweden?’ the woman asked, in an American accent.
‘Russia – how about you?’ Eloise asked with a smile, given the answer was so obvious.
‘Who do you think? Sweden – of course. With him in the game, tennis has just got a whole lot hotter. He could do me any time!’ With that she screamed and waved her arms in the air as Stephan Nordstrom was introduced and walked onto centre court for his first Wimbledon final.
There was something overwhelmingly charismatic about Stephan Nordstrom, everyone else in view almost diminished as he took centre stage. Eloise felt a strong attraction seed in her belly. And suddenly she had far greater interest in the match about to be played. Like the rest of the crowd, she watched in absolute awe as the two players shook hands and commenced their first game.
Today, on centre court at the All England Club, it was abundantly clear that each player wanted this title as desperately as the other. And by all accounts, they would fight to the death to have it.
Eloise could barely sit still in her seat. The pangs of guilt were like shards of glass penetrating her skin as she found herself continually drawn to Nordstrom more than Ivan; it was difficult not to be. Her remorse deepened when she caught herself spontaneously clapping as Nordstrom sent a backhand winner flying down the line after an epic rally, almost knocking out a linesperson as the ball continued its destructive path.
Nordstrom’s response was electrifying as he pumped his fists into the air and released what sounded like a lion’s roar. Ivan continued on smoothly, undeterred by the Swede’s momentum on the other side of the net, maintaining his trademark cool, calm and collected persona while the fifth set climbed into double digits. Both players remained supreme professionals in front of an utterly engrossed crowd. Decorum was apparently everything at Wimbledon, and the umpire’s reminders of ‘Quiet, please’ felt like a restraining order on a ball of energy. Not one person could tell which way the match would go and all were literally sitting on the edge of their seats, gasping at the force and stamina behind each point.
The battle of the titans was won in four hours and fifty-three minutes … by first-time Wimbledon champion Stephan Nordstrom. Both players collapsed in sheer exhaustion before hauling their tortured bodies to the net to shake hands with each other and the umpire.
Stephan stripped off his shirt, flaunting his bronzed and superbly defined chest and abdominals, pumping both clenched fists high in the air and unleashing another almighty roar to the global audience. The power of his voice reverberated around the arena, causing the crowd to roar in return as he flung his shirt and sweatbands into the stands.
Eloise was as engaged as anyone, her hands becoming numb from clapping so hard. Discovering Noah had made the semifinals only added to her now undeniable interest in the game, and more particularly in its ranking system. Ivan’s failure to win didn’t result in his losing his status as Number One, but it did mean it was definitely under threat.
Carefree
Ivan went into complete hibernation after losing the momentous match. His coach informed Eloise that she would not see him for at least two days. Therefore she eagerly called Noah, knowing she wouldn’t be letting anyone down and thrilled to have an opportunity to see him again.
She was staying at the Dorchester, and was delighted to see a very funky Noah arrive in the foyer wearing faded red jeans, a white V-neck T-shirt and a fitted navy blazer with the sleeves pushed up above his elbows. She found herself staring at him, more than a little mesmerised, drawn towards his confident, casual stride and muscled body. She was caught a little off guard when he rushed up and scooped her off the ground in a bear hug, swinging her around before kissing her on both cheeks.
‘You look hot!’ were his first words as he returned her feet to the ground.
Eloise hadn’t been sure what to wear and had changed outfits five times, before deciding at the last minute to be bold, choosing a deep burgundy lace bodycon mini-dress with a boat neckline, a gathered front and, most importantly, a plunging scooped back. She wasn’t big-breasted, but she felt good in the dress because it showed off her slender, toned legs and the muscular definition of her back.
Before she had the opportunity to respond to his compliment he took hold of her hand. ‘Let’s get you out of here to some place more in our age bracket.’
The uniformed doorman motioned for a black cab to approach and held the door open for Eloise while Noah bounded around to the cabbie, handing him a card.
‘Right you are, sir,’ came the confirmation from the driver’s seat as Noah settled in beside Eloise.
‘So, Liam – Noah – where are you from?’
‘Ah, the inquisition begins. You know I much prefer talking about you,’ he countered with a grin.
‘No way – it’s time for you to answer some questions! It’s only fair.’
‘OK, OK, I give in. My dad is French and my mum is Australian. They divorced when I was young and I lived with my mum in Townsville but spent my holidays with Dad in Europe which was handy for competing as a junior.’
‘Right – but you, well, I’m not sure how I should say this …’
‘You’re asking about my perpetual suntan? Are you sure that’s politically correct?’ His dimples showed that he didn’t mind talking about it and was just having some fun.
