Match Play. Merline Lovelace
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right! Nothing like a little psychological warfare designed to throw your opponent off her game.
“You think?”
“I know. I have many boyfriends.”
Sternly, Dayna reminded herself that she was there to cozy up to the girl, not spar with her.
“Maybe we should get together later and compare notes,” she suggested.
Wu’s shrug couldn’t have conveyed less interest. Without another word, she strolled back to her fans. Eleanor was too seasoned a pro to comment on the exchange, but the look she sent her partner as they walked to the tee box spoke volumes.
All of which Dayna could have put out of her head if she hadn’t skimmed a glance around the gallery and spotted Luke Harper.
She could hardly miss him. The man had as many cameras aimed in his direction as Dayna did in hers. All too aware that they’d captured her in midgawk, she responded to Luke’s two-fingered salute with a smile that came up just short of friendly.
Dammit! What was he doing here?
Hawk had indicated Harper wasn’t happy about his abrupt change in status. Did Luke think Dayna had engineered the move? Was he planning to exact some form of revenge by following her around the course?
If so, he—and Wu Kim Li—had another think coming. Dayna had been forced to shut Luke Harper out of her head once before to win gold. She could—She would do the same today.
All she had to do was wait her turn. Step into the box. Tee up. Decide on her line of flight. Address the ball.
Focus.
The noisy crowd quieted. The TV cameras faded. The world diminished to a square patch of green-brown grass and a round white sphere.
Focus.
Her driver rose in a fluid backswing and exploded downward. With a loud crack, the ball flew across a fairway humped with rolling burns and cut a corner of thick brown gorse. It landed dead center less than a hundred yards from the green to a chorus of whoops and shouts.
Dayna couldn’t help herself. With a spear of fierce satisfaction, she angled her head until her glance locked with Luke’s.
Take that, Harper!
Dayna finished her first round at six under par—without resorting to any of Mackenzie’s special aids.
She left the course squinty-eyed from peering into the stiff breeze that had whipped up the contents of St. Andrews’ notorious sand traps. Grit clogged Dayna’s pores and wild tendrils had escaped her French braid to whip around her face and visor, but she was so pumped from the game she wasn’t worried about looking like a walking maypole. Slapping on some lip-gloss, she joined Eleanor in front of the cameras for the obligatory post-round news conference.
Her good mood slipped a little when she was forced to field more questions about Luke Harper than about her game. She kept her cool, however, and joined the other women in the lounge reserved for their exclusive use to watch the last few foursomes finish up.
“That girl’s a machine,” one of the pros commented as Wu Kim Li chipped onto the seventeenth green.
When Wu’s ball rolled to within three inches of the cup, the gallery exploded. When her amateur partner chipped over the green and into the water, Wu looked as though she was going to explode. Her face a thundercloud, the North Korean stalked onto the green and holed out.
Mutters rolled around the lounge but none of the pros would dish a fellow golfer out loud. Dayna was too busy scanning the gallery for Wu’s father to pay any attention to the buzz. She spotted the scientist standing at the ropes, shoulder to shoulder with two burly North Koreans. Hawk was also in the crowd just a few yards away.
Anxious to hear whether he’d made contact with the father, Dayna waited with mounting impatience for an opportunity to approach the daughter. It finally came an hour later, after Kim Li had finished her round and postured for the media. When she and her partner entered the lounge, the flame-haired Irish neurosurgeon peeled away from Wu and aimed for the bar. She didn’t exude the air of someone who’d enjoyed her first pairing with a pro.
Dayna used that as her cue to head for the locker room. The intel OMEGA had provided indicated Kim Li held to a rigid post-game ritual that included a sauna, a shower and a massage to loosen the tension kinks. Her personal masseuse traveled with her as part of the support team.
The woman—yes, Dayna was sure she was female—had already set up her portable massage table and array of scented oils. Looking like a sumo wrestler in white polyester, she sported bulging muscles and a bulldog neck. Her knuckles rested gorilla-like on the table as she followed Dayna’s progress through the locker area to the steam room.
Stripping, Dayna tucked a Turkish towel around her but delayed entering the sauna until she heard Kim Li come into the locker room and exchange a few words in Korean with the masseuse. Luckily, the only other occupant of the steam room exited just as Dayna went in. She had the lung-sucking heat all to herself until Kim Li joined her.
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