Barbara recognized it as well and instinctively bungled a return. “You’re killing me,” she called out, and shook her head as she took her time going back to position.

Evan had always been temperamental, she thought. It was hard for him not to win, not to get his way. It always had been. As a child his retribution had come in one of two forms. Icy silence that could bore holes in steel. Or quick, hot violence.

You’re older, her mother had said, always. Be a good girl, be a good sister. Let the baby win.

It was such an old and ingrained habit, she barely registered her decision to blow the next return as well. And after all, the afternoon would be so much more pleasant if he won the match. Why cause contention over a tennis game?

So, burying her own competitive spirit, she took a dive, surrendering the game.

His expression changed almost instantly.

“Good game, Evan. I never could keep up with you.”

She sent him an indulgent smile as they positioned themselves for the next. Boys hate to lose to girls, she thought. It was another of her mother’s homilies.

And what were men but big boys?

By the time it was over and he’d won the match, he was in a fine mood. He felt loose and limber and affectionate. He swung an arm over Barbara’s shoulders, bussed her cheek. “Your backhand still needs some work.”

There was a little bubble of annoyance in her throat, automatically swallowed. “Yours is lethal.” She picked up her bag. “And since you humiliated me, you get to buy lunch. I’ll meet you on the lounge terrace. Thirty minutes.”

She kept him waiting, always a minor irritation. But it pleased him to see how attractive she was, how well presented. He detested sloppy attire or unkempt hair on a woman, and Barbara never disappointed him.

She was four years his senior, but could have passed for thirty-five. Her skin was pampered and taut, her hair sleek and glossy, and her figure trim.

She joined him under the shade of the umbrella, smelling subtly of her favored White Diamonds.

“I’m going to console myself with a champagne cocktail.” She crossed legs garbed in thin raw silk. “Between that and sitting with the most handsome man in the club, my mood should immediately improve.”

“And I was just thinking what a beautiful woman I have for a sister.”

Her face lit up. “You always say the sweetest things.”

It was true, she thought. He did. When he won. It made her all the more pleased that she’d tanked the match.

“Let’s not wait for Deke,” she said, still beaming at him. “Lord knows when he’ll finish his game.”