Game, Set, Match (A Humorous Contemporary Romance) (Love Match)
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Authors: Nana Malone
Game, Set, Match
Copyright 2010 by Nana Malone
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Game, Set, Match
COPYRIGHT © 2010 by Nana Malone
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied i
n critical articles or reviews.
Cover Art by Kimberly
Killion
Edited by Val Hatfield
Published in the United States of America
Praise for
GAME, SET, MATCH
“GAME, SET, MATCH
is a wonderful book, well written with engaging characters, that take you on an emotional roller coaster ride. A must read.”
~Marie
Tuhart
“Nana Malone’s beautiful characterizations bring her characters to life. I immediately rooted for Izzy. Whether or not the reader is a tennis fan,
GAME, SET, MATCH will entertain.”
~Caroline Clemmons
“Nana Malone captivated my heart with her brilliant imagery, engaging style, and inspiring story in GAME, SET, MATCH.”
~Author
Kaye Chambers
Dedication
To Erik, thank you for loving me, believing in me all these years, fostering my overactive imagination, not letting me get distracted, and most of all for making me laugh. That fraternity party was the best decision I ever made.
To my wonderful friend, crit partner, fellow Bravo TV junkie and sister, Misty Evans, I cannot thank you enough for taking me under your wings and helping my learn how to fly. I truly believe I wouldn't be writing this dedication if it weren't for you.
To
Tendayi and Megan, thank you for keeping me writing, pestering me for more chapters and most of all, enduring my horrible spew drafts.
Every writer has friends and family who support them and keep them moving forward.
To Naa Ardua, Cynthia, Fritz, Derrick, Marcie, Tricia, Nicholina and Reggie. I owe you more than you could ever know.
Mama, Daddy and
Nortey. I love you. Thank you. I'm so proud of you all.
And finally, to Tori Spence, thank you for taking a chance, believing in me and working to make me the best writer I can be.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
She’s going to take Nick away.
Izzy Connors was going to lose her son. One midnight phone call, and Izzy’s mind, body and soul ached from the sleepless night. Nick’s birth mother, Sabrina Reems, had never been one for reasonable, rational discussion. Sabrina’s words rattled in her head refusing to quiet.
I’m coming home in a month, and I want to see Nick.
She’d want to bully her way back into their lives and ignore the damning reasons for her continued absence.
How the hell was Izzy supposed to focus all day when she was in the fight of her life to keep Nick? Too bad her manager didn’t care about her family dramatics.
Izzy squinted against the dazzling daylight warring for center stage with Simon’s Ken-Doll good looks in her cramped and cluttered office. Using her hands, she blocked the glare of sunlight as he blathered on about her upcoming gallery opening, using words like,
strategic
and
tactical
and
poised
.
All very good words if he were giving a marketing presentation. But he wasn’t. He was her perfect, MBA-strutting, stably employed, want-to-be boyfriend, Simon Jensen. The kind of man, who, if she married him, could help her accomplish the one thing she wanted the most. Adopt Nick. But
she wouldn’t, couldn’t, use anyone to get what she wanted. No matter how badly she wanted to keep Nick.
She had a month until Sabrina’s return, two weeks before her scheduled monthly meetings with the family court judge. She’d think of a solution before then.
Not like I have a choice
.
Given Sabrina’s history, Izzy had petitioned to adopt Nick more than once in the fourteen years she’d raised him. And more than once, the court had turned her down. Lack of stable income, the judge wanted to reunite mother and son, her race—the reasons didn’t matter, the result was still the same. No adoption. She never should have agreed to the lopsided guardianship agreement with Sabrina.
“We have to think of your brand. Z Con will be a household name before we’re done,” Simon continued, unaware of her change in mood, his long fingers rubbing against the smooth line of his mahogany-colored skin.
She could always get a second job, not that her studio didn’t make enough. It did. But the money went to Nick’s school fees and college fund first, everything else second.
She glared at the wheatgrass shot on her desk, courtesy of Simon. She hated wheatgrass. Instead of a romantic breakfast date complete with mimosas and strawberries, he handed her a yogurt with granola, and a vile wheatgrass shot.
She stared at the murky green liquid and willed it to turn into champagne. It didn’t. Like the rest of her life, wishing wouldn’t make it so.
“Izzy, it’s imperative …right people…the proper contacts… catapult…”
“Uh, hmm,” she muttered, trying to focus on his words, but unable to force her mind to latch on. Echoes of Sabrina’s voice the night before wafted into her consciousness.
I’m coming back in a month. I want to see Nick.
Taking a deep breath, Izzy shoved the thought to a far corner in her brain and locked it in a trunk. She would think about it later. There was nothing she could do about Sabrina right now, and she had a life to tend to.
Izzy held her breath and took the shot, trying not to gag as the forest green liquid glooped down her throat.
Simon beamed at her. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
She chose deft avoidance. “Simon, the gallery opening will be great, but I want to make sure we keep it small, intimate, you know, and—”
His booming laugh interrupted her, sucking all the air out until she felt as if she needed to ration her breathing. “Small? Honey, I don’t think you get it. We’re going to put you, Z Con-international photographer, on the map.”
Her eyes searched his for some sign he was her Mr. Perfect. She wanted to feel something, anything. Anything beside the mild affection and sometimes annoyance over his continued assurance they were perfect for each other.
She waited for the breathless, giddy anticipation of longing to wash over her.
Waited for the staccato rhythm of a heart in love to tick away in her chest. Waited for the heated blush to take a languid stroll over her skin leaving a wake of goose bumps.
The only thing she felt was queasy dread that she’d never experience those things. Or maybe it was the wheatgrass.
His chocolate skin and lean athletic build
should
make her heart prance whenever he turned his signature grin on her. His Blair Underwood meets Taye Digs good looks,
should
make her fuzzy and cozily dream of Sunday lie-ins complete with a steamy romp and Sunday paper. His pedigree, charm and zest for life,
should
have made him a dream candidate for the future Mr. Connors.
Should, should, should.
Except, they didn’t. Despite every reason to want him, not a single butterfly fluttered anywhere near her belly—or—lower. He was handsome, no doubt, but the last thing on earth she wanted to do was sleep with him. She’d done everything she could to discourage his feelings, but he insisted they were right for each other. Insisted she only needed time to get used to the idea.
She gave him another quick once over. Hot and heavy, he did
not
make her. More like lukewarm. But, according to her mother, what was marriage if not a strong steadfast friendship? Her mother loved Simon.
Everybody
loved Simon. Everybody except the two people closest to her, Nick and her assistant, Jessica. They both thought he was boring.
Casting Simon another glance, Izzy willed her lips into a smile and told
herself love could grow on a person.
Like a fungus.
He tried so hard to make her happy. He pushed her at break-neck speeds because he wanted her to succeed. He brought her breakfast every morning, just to make sure she remembered to eat.
Too bad he includes the wheatgrass
.
“
Iz, I know your own gallery showing during Pasadena Art Night is scary, but I think you can do it. If anyone can, it’s you.”
If he’d stopped there, that would have been fine.
Better than fine. Her brain could have accepted the statement as a cheerleader’s pitch. Instead, he added, “I’ve already promised them forty pieces.”
“
Forty?
” Shit
. With the opening in three months, that didn’t leave enough time to get them all canvassed, framed and ready to display.
Simon nodded.
“Perfect number, right?”
She knew she needed to focus on the good news. The gallery opening was just the thing she needed to catapult her career. But the feeling of suffocation, instant and unavoidable, spread over her like a warm, wet blanket in the middle of August.
Tell him no
. As quickly as the thought formed, she tangled it with thoughts of Sabrina. Simon had worked his tail off for two years to make her a name. He’d gotten her this far when, by rights, she should be living the life of a starving photographer in a one-bedroom hovel.
Any of her friends, if she’d
had
time for friends besides Jessica, would think she was insane for not getting with him. Too bad every time she thought of him naked, she felt the tickle of a giggle in her throat. And while it had been a long,
long
time since she’d done the do, Izzy
knew
giggling was not on the approved list of responses to nakedness.
“Izzy, are you listening to me?”
Busted
.
She sighed and put down the balance sheets she’d been moving around her desk. She picked up a camera to clean as she always did when she needed to think. “Yes, Simon, I’m listening, but I’m not sure if I can be ready for a gallery opening in time. Things are kicking up again with Nick’s school and tennis, not to mention Sabrina’s coming back. This could finally be my chance to adopt Nick. I don’t want anything to get in the way of that.”
Translation, you were insane to promise forty pieces.