Wu glanced up as Dayna and Eleanor emerged, trailed by the string of reporters. Abruptly, she shoved the autograph book into the hands of a fan and strolled over to shake hands with her competitors. That was the excuse she gave for getting her face in front of the cameras, anyway.
“I wish you good practice round.”
“Thanks,” Eleanor returned. “Same to you.”
Wu nodded and turned to Dayna. “I see picture of you with boyfriend.”
“Ex-boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend, ex-boyfriend, no difference.” Oozing false sympathy, the teen clucked her tongue. “Both bad for concentration.”
Yeah, 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!
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