Endless Summer

by Julie Kenner, Karen Anders

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “It’s a public beach,” he answered, then immediately kicked himself. Defensive and irritated wasn’t the right way to play this. He didn’t want to be playing at all.

  “You have some serious balls showing up here and talking to me,” she said, her eyes flashing with the same passion he’d seen in his bed, only this time the fire was fueled by hate and not desire.

  Pettiness twisted his gut. Like a fool in love, he’d harbored secret fantasies of her wanting him back. Foolish, childish fantasies.

  Fantasies, he realized now, that would never come true.

  “Balls of steel,” he said, standing a little bit straighter as he shifted his perspective on the world.

  Her eyes darted away, and he saw the tiniest hint of a frown touch her lips before she looked up at him. “I guess I know better than anyone. You were all steel when I left, weren’t you? Not a soft spot anywhere.”

  As he cringed, she hauled herself up out of the sand, then peered at her waterproof watch. “Oh, gee. Time to go,” she said, her chin held high, her posture perfect. She looked like Aphrodite with the ocean turning to foam behind her and the sun glowing on her copper-colored skin. Bits of sand clung to her, and his fingers itched to touch her, to brush the grains away and feel the soft skin beneath. Laci was grace and strength combined, and seeing her now drove home just how much he’d lost when she’d walked out of his life.

  “You want to get out of my way?” she demanded. “It’s getting crowded out here.”

  He noted the completely empty beach. “Wait,” he said, reaching for her hand. He told himself that he was only there to make nice with Laci and ensure his own job security. Any illusions about getting back together with her had been cut off at the knees by the vitriol he’d seen in her eyes.

  He told himself that, but it wasn’t true. He wanted to touch her. Had to touch her. And now that her arm was cupped inside his palm, he knew the instinct had been right. Her skin was warm and soft, and she trembled slightly under his touch, letting his hand linger for longer than it needed to before she tugged her hand away, her cheeks glowing, and not from the sun.

  His heart skipped in his chest, the band that had settled around it loosening. He had a chance here, his heart was saying. Dear God in heaven, he actually still had a chance with her.

  She started to walk away, and he fell into step beside her. “Dammit, Taylor,” she said.

  “Just two folks going in the same direction.”

  She stopped, turned to him with her hands on her hips. “What? What do you want from me?”

  “What makes you think I want anything from you?”

  “Are you saying you don’t?”

  “No,” he admitted. “I do.”

  “All right, then. What?”

  “Dinner,” he said, then watched, amused, as pure astonishment filled her clear blue eyes.

  “Dinner,” she repeated.

  “That’s all. Eating. Drinking. Talking. We’ve done all three before, and had a good time doing it. Had a good time after, too, if I remember right.”

  “You’re such a jerk.” She started walking away, and he kicked himself for going too far. That was the way he’d always been around her—his defenses dropped, and he spoke his mind more than he ever had around a woman. He’d assumed that time, distance and the utter destruction of their relationship would have cured him of that defect, but apparently not.

  “Laci, wait.” He hurried to catch up, positioned himself right in front of her so that she had to either stop or go around. He held his breath, exhaling only when she stopped. Yup. Definitely a chance here.

  “Why?” she demanded.

  “Do I need a reason?”

  “You’ve come a long way,” she said. “So, yeah. I’m thinking you need a reason.”

  “I want to make it up to you,” he answered.

  She stared at him as if he’d grown horns. “Excuse me?”

  “Dammit, Laci,” he said, the frustration that had been building in him for the last fourteen months coming to a head now that she was finally in front of him. “We were good together, and it ended badly. Whether that was my fault or your fault doesn’t matter anymore.”

  “The hell it doesn’t.”

  “Fine. I messed up. Can I buy you dinner? Can I try to make it up to you? I’m not even working the competition, Lace.”

  He could see the curiosity—and the interest—sparking in her eyes, and he felt guilt twinge in his stomach. He’d spoken the truth, but that didn’t change the fact that he hadn’t exactly laid all the facts at her feet.

  “Why exactly are you in Hawaii?” she asked, getting to the heart of the matter, not to mention the meat of his guilt.

  “I came because you’re here,” he replied, which was another completely honest answer with a hole in it so big it rivaled the Chunnel.

  “Because of me,” she repeated. Not a question, but a statement, her voice flat, as if she were trying to find some place in the reality of her life where his words actually made sense. “And you’re not working Girls Go Banzai?”

  He shook his head. “That’s Morgan’s baby. I’m based in Sydney right now. Putting together the Danger Down Under competition.” He saw her reaction, and wasn’t at all surprised. Danger Down Under had already generated buzz in the surfing world, and was shaping up to be a can’t-miss competition.

  “Long way from Sydney,” she said.

  “Not really. I’m calling it a long layover.” He stepped closer, shoving his hands into his pockets so he wouldn’t reach for her hands. She met his eyes, and he smiled. “The truth is, I wasn’t going to pass up the chance to see you again.”

  The corner of her mouth quirked, both amused and suspicious. “Chance? I haven’t exactly fallen off the planet, Taylor. And last I checked, my cell phone number was the same. The last year has been filled with any number of chances,” she added, nailing him with that too-smart-for-her-own-good glare. “So why now?”

  His gut twisted once again, and he knew he couldn’t lie to her any more than he could tell her the whole truth. He searched her eyes for some clue that if he laid his heart on the line, the risk would pay off. But he saw nothing there. Which meant he had to go out on a limb. Standard operating procedure in his job, but not so much in his personal life.

  “Why?” she pressed.

  He closed the distance between them until he could smell the ocean on her skin, the heat from her body sufficient to drive him crazy. “Because I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind,” he admitted. “Because I wanted you the first day I saw you, and nothing has changed. Because I still remember the way your skin felt beneath my hand. And,” he added, hearing her soft intake of breath, “because there was no other choice. I simply had to come.”

  3

  LACI FELT her heart flutter and tried to stay in control. He had to come? After all this time? After she’d gotten her head back on straight and recovered from the wound he’d left?

  Now he had to come?

  A wave of anger overtook her, but common sense stayed her hand before she reached out and slapped him across the cheek. She wanted to—oh, how she wanted to. He’d hurt her so badly.

  And the absolute hell of it? Even while she stood there wanting to slap him, a larger part of herself—the desperate, needy, traitorous part—wanted to move into his arms and feel them close tightly around her. She wanted the scent of him on her and his breath in her ear as he whispered soft words.

  She wanted all that, but there was no way she was going to have it. No way she’d give him the satisfaction.

  Schooling her expression into one of calm diffidence, she tilted her head back and looked up into his eyes. She tried to say something, but couldn’t find the words. He’d twisted her heart and her thoughts into too much of a tangle.

  And so she simply held his gaze, her teeth clenched so tightly together her jaw ached. And then she turned her back on him and marched calmly toward the s
urf.

  She knew his eyes were on her, and the hardest thing in the world she had ever done was not to look back. And she wanted so badly to see the expression on his face. Worse than that, she wanted to run to him.

  Pathetic, Laci. You’re absolutely pathetic.

  And she was so not going there. She was doing just fine without Taylor Dutton in her life, thank you very much. Last time she checked, she had absolutely no masochistic tendencies, and now was not the time to start clinging to a man who was clearly bad for her.

  She grabbed her board from where she’d left it a few feet up from the surf line and tucked it under her arm. Then she jogged a ways into the water before putting it down and positioning herself on top.

  She paddled out, her arms working automatically, which was a good thing, as her mind was still on what had happened on the beach.

  Bad for me. He was bad, bad, bad for me.

  Except, was he?

  Stop it, Laci. Do not go there.

  She frowned. Yes, he’d betrayed her trust, and yes, that was about as bad as it got. But before that…

  Well, before that, he’d been the best thing that had ever happened to her.

  Betrayal trumps soul-mate status, doofus. Just because you’re starved for sex doesn’t mean you need to run back to the likes of Taylor Dutton. He sucked you in, remember? And that made the hurt all the worse.

  Clearly, paddling out had been a bad idea. She’d always had the habit of talking to herself in the water. Usually her conversations leaned more toward reminding herself to find her center, or to wait for the next wave, or to comment on another surfer who had the potential to show Laci up.

  Today, her chatty alter ego was all about the guy.

  She supposed that was to be expected, especially since everything the voice in her head was saying was true. But even so, she couldn’t help but remember the long walks at night with Taylor. The talks they’d had until the wee hours of the morning. Talks about nothing, and yet somehow those talks had been everything. Because with Taylor, it hadn’t been all about the sex. There’d been a connection. A caring. A bonding. Something she hadn’t felt before and hadn’t experienced since.

  She missed it. Honestly, she missed him.

  Bad. Bad, Laci.

  With an extreme force of will, she shoved thoughts of Taylor out of her head and concentrated on the ocean, the swell and the pull of the current. As a rule, surfing was a safe sport, but there were risks in all activities, especially at her level. For that matter, she knew better than to go out on the waves by herself. But Taylor had messed with her head, and she needed it. Needed the water and the waves and the freedom. And yeah, she needed the rush to fight the burn of rampant sexual energy.

  She’d be careful and easy and take it slow, but she sure wasn’t turning back.

  This beach was away from the Pipeline where she’d be surfing in competition, but even so, the waves normally rocked. They certainly had only hours earlier when Drea had been out here with her.

  Part of that, of course, was the result of swells brewing with the coming storm. Area meteorologists had been watching cells for days, and the consensus was that a doozy would blow in that evening. Now, in fact, the ocean had calmed a bit—the clichéd calm before the storm. Laci didn’t care about the reason for the calm, but for the first time in her surfing life, she was actually grateful for the lame waves, because right then, she could only keep half her mind on the water. The other half kept dancing back to Taylor, damn his dark and evil soul.

  She scowled and focused, doing a neat duck dive under the incoming waves. She wasn’t out far enough yet, and although the conditions were slacking, she still hoped for a sweet ride back.

  Emerging from under the wave, she blinked the water out of her eyes and tasted the salt on her mouth, enjoying the little slice of heaven. She felt more at home on the waves than she’d ever felt anywhere in her life, with the sad exception of Taylor’s arms. She chalked that up to girlish stupidity, however. Taylor wasn’t home. Or rather, if he was, he was just like the home her mother had made.

  And that was no home at all.

  Although Laci had to admit she owed the woman big-time. After all, if her defective excuse for a maternal unit hadn’t decided to dump Laci and Millie on their father, Laci would never have found her passion in surfing. So Mommy Dearest scored big brownie points in that regard. Sure, it was hard knowing her own mother didn’t want her, but the fact that she hadn’t much wanted her mom had made it easier. Now, Laci couldn’t imagine a life without the waves and the sand, the swell and the tides. The ocean moved her.

  Surfing had, in a word, saved her life. Sure, things had gotten better when she and Millie had been dumped on their dad. And he’d been awesome. But they’d never really fallen into a family routine.

  On the waves, though, everything had order. She’d found a modicum of control over her own life when she was out on the waves, something she’d certainly never had with her mother, and had very little of with her dad. Surfing made sense. There was a rhythm and a predictability that came with the ocean, despite the fact that if you didn’t pay her the respect she deserved, the ocean would wipe you out.

  She’d found her center when she’d found surfing, and every time she stepped into the water joy crashed over her like the waves. The spray of the ocean was a calming balm, and the thrill of riding the crest of an awesome wave was nothing short of freedom.

  And speak of the devil.

  One beauty of a wave was coming right at her, and she was perfectly positioned. With the instinct that came from years of training, Laci popped up perfectly onto her board, her feet automatically going into position, her knees bent and her arms out for balance. All of that was part of the drill as she carved up the wave. What wasn’t included in the basic surf instruction was the smile, but she couldn’t help that—she was alive. A-freaking-live. And the way she skimmed along the top of the water was like flying. No, it was better. This was religion or sex or…rapture. Absolute, total, mind-blowing rapture.

  And to think that her mother had inadvertently given her all of this.

  Ironic, she thought, how sometimes the best things in your life are wrapped in pain and discontent.

  Even her relationship with Taylor.

  She shifted on the board, her balance suddenly unsteady. She didn’t want Taylor to intrude on this moment as he had on the beach. But apparently there was no escaping him. Even out on the waves, he filled her head.

  She tried to ignore her thoughts and focus on the feel of the water beneath her, but her concentration wasn’t at its best right then. And instead of losing herself in the rapture, she shot a glance toward the beach, hoping to see Taylor still standing there, his eyes on her, realizing what he’d lost when he’d screwed her over.

  Except he wasn’t there. The bastard had left.

  He’d walked away.

  He’d actually done what she’d told him to.

  And damn her traitorous heart, she actually cared.

  LACI’S DARK MOOD was still with her when she arrived at Da Kine. She’d spent another hour on the water, but her heart hadn’t been with the waves. Instead, she’d kept glancing at the beach, hoping that Taylor had simply stepped away, and that he would come back to watch her.

  In her imagination, she could feel his eyes on her. The warm water triggered memories of colder Pacific shores, the chill fought off by long nights in a steamy hot tub. And it hadn’t just been the water that had been steaming. Between her and Taylor, they’d generated enough heat to burn down half of Southern California.

  When she’d wiped out for the second time, she realized that she needed to pack it in in case she seriously injured herself before the competition even started.

  So she’d paddled to shore, trudged to the bungalow and sipped a glass of wine as she’d showered and changed. She’d hoped the wine would mellow her, but all it did was make her more melancholy. And needy.

  And, dammit, itchy.

  Seeing Tayl
or again had brought to a head how much she’d lost when she’d lost him. And damned if she didn’t want to hate him for it.

  More than that, though, she hated the fact that he’d made her lose control. And not just any control, but control on the waves. It was the one place that had always been hers and hers alone—the ocean.

  And to Laci’s way of thinking that was an unforgivable sin.

  She paused on the weathered porch outside the familiar bar. Neither JC nor Drea had noticed her, their heads bent close together as they flipped pages in a catalog. Probably scoping out the latest in sex wax or skin suits.

  She had every intention of stepping inside and joining them. In fact, she wanted their advice and counsel. Wanted them to kick a little sense into her, because the truth was that her anger was fading in the wake of Taylor’s newest departure, and all that was left was that look she’d seen in his eyes as he’d peered down at her on the beach.

  She’d seen it before; she knew what it meant. He wanted her. And so help her, despite every ounce of sanity in her body telling her to run far and fast, she wanted him, too.

  Before she even realized that she’d started walking, she was off the porch and marching across the packed sand leading toward the parking area. Her feet were bare, her flip-flops dangling from her fingers, and she regretted not bringing her car. Because she wasn’t going back to the bungalow. No, she had someplace else in mind.

  Fifteen minutes later, she jogged up the steps to Sloane’s, another local bar with a much harder-core feel. She’d been here only once before, six months before, when she’d come out on vacation with a biker buddy who’d got it in his head that he wanted to learn to surf and had recruited Laci to teach him. Since he’d bought her plane ticket and paid for her hotel room—and was a complete gentleman despite his tattooed, pierced, leathered persona—she’d been happy to come. And by the end of the week, he’d actually conquered a few waves.