The Fidelity Files (Jennifer Hunter #1)(80)

TEN MINUTES later we arrived at a popular nine-hole course in Rancho Park. I recognized it immediately. It had been the site of the Oliver Hender assignment. A high-up business executive who was in town from New York and wanted to fit in a quick round before his very important meeting with a group of Japanese investors.

His wife had contacted me by phone a few weeks in advance and I agreed to take on the assignment. I paid the course attendant a hefty tip to be paired-up alone with Mr. Hender. Two lonely golfers just trying to take advantage of the beautiful L.A. weather before heading off to their respective meetings. One of these golfers just happened to be a sexy young lawyer named Ashlyn who was apparently just as good on the golf course as she was in the courtroom. Oliver was extremely impressed. And with those flirtatious looks she was tossing him in between practice swings, and that tiny golfing skirt barely covering her perfectly tanned legs, how could he not take her right there? After all, it was a fairly slow day on the course.

I stepped out of Jamie's car and breathed in the night air. It was a beautiful evening, just around seventy degrees, barely any wind. The perfect night for a round of golf, although had I expected to be playing tonight, I might have chosen a different outfit. I could only imagine what golfing in my wedge-heeled espadrilles would be like.

Jamie popped open his trunk and began to remove a set of golf clubs.

"Wait a minute." I stopped him. "You mean I have to rent clubs and you get to use your own? Now that seems to put you at a very unfair advantage, doesn't it?"

He considered that, and then placed the clubs gently back into the trunk. "You're right. I should rent clubs, too. That way we'll be on an even playing field."

No such thing, I thought.

We started walking toward the clubhouse, and Jamie glanced down at my feet. "Maybe we should rent you some shoes, too."



AFTER THE fourth hole it was pretty clear who the better golfer was between us.

"So," Jamie began as he placed the pin back into the hole on the green. "I actually chose this specific activity because I was supposed to impress you with my extraordinary golfing skills. But it doesn't seem to be quite working out the way I planned. Does it?"

I shook my head. "Not so much."

"You know," he continued as we walked back toward our awaiting cart. "I don't think you've been properly educated on the purpose of a first date."

"Well, then, I guess you better enlighten me."

"I'll do that," he asserted. "See, the purpose of the first date is for the guy . . . that would be me..."

"Right..."

"...to impress the girl." He emphasized the word impress as if I were a foreigner hearing the English word for the first time and he wanted to make sure I could properly pronounce it later. "You know, like show off his colorful feathers, bob his head up and down, play golf really well. It's all part of the ancient dating ritual."

I pretended to be extremely intrigued by his lecture as we approached the golf cart, and I sat down in the passenger seat. "I see."

Jamie got in behind the wheel and quickly marked down our strokes on the scorecard. "And the girl . . . that would be you...is supposed to be so taken by these impressive displays that you just can't help but..."

"But what?" I interrupted him with a playful smirk.

He shot me a knowing glance. "But swoon, of course. Fall all over yourself. Fail to find the ability to stand upright without losing your balance from all the swooning."

I laughed. "Wow, you've really thought this through, haven't you?"

Jamie pulled the cart onto the cement path. "There's nothing to think through. This is just how it works. It's the natural order of all things that you, Miss Jennifer H., are severely disturbing with your three pars and a birdie."

"Hey, I let you drive the cart, didn't I?"

He nodded. "That you did."

I grabbed the bar on the outside of the cart as Jamie made a sharp turn. "Sorry," I said. "I guess I just come from a completely different school of thought."

"And what school would that be? Please enlighten me."

Well, technically, it was my own school of thought. Something along the lines of not letting yourself be swooned by any guy no matter how good their golf game or how bright their tail feathers. But at that moment, I suddenly couldn't remember where those rules had even come from. And I kind of liked it that way.

"Well, basically it goes something like this: Old-fashioned dating rituals are completely outdated. Girls can be better at anything... even golf."

Jamie nodded. "Well, it looks like I'll just have to rely on my charm, then. Since golf doesn't seem to be working."

I smiled. "I guess so."

He parked the golf cart in front of a small snack stand that stood off to the side of the cart path.

"What are we doing here? The fifth hole is that way," I said, pointing back the way we came. "Maybe I should be driving."

"Well, I did promise you dinner," he reminded me, motioning to the snack stand.

I laughed. "Are you serious?"

He straightened his face. "Extremely. I take my golf hot-dog breaks very seriously. As you probably know, it's customary to visit the snack stand after nine holes. But since we're on only a nine-hole course, I figure the fourth hole is probably the best place to break."