No dedication would be complete without thanking
Jennifer, Kassia, Karen and Maggie—such great
friends—and of course Gena Showalter. A very
difficult person to interview!
1
“I PROMISE I’ll be good,” Andrea “Drea” Powell told Kaydee as their feet sank into the warm sand of the beach. The ocean beckoned a few yards away. The waves were breaking perfectly and Drea couldn’t wait to paddle out and ride them. She gripped her board tighter as they walked toward the water’s edge. The waves off Oahu were legend, and right now with their high swells and consistent sets, they were living up to their reputation.
Kaydee gasped then shook her head. “You couldn’t even be convincing when you told me that. It’s pathetic.”
Drea made a face. “I just don’t know why I can’t be myself to get the sponsorship.”
“You are being yourself. We’re only changing your personality. The rest is all you,” her friend said with a wink.
“Thanks a lot,” Drea said, as she kicked sand over Kaydee’s toes.
Kaydee’s expression grew serious. “Listen, bottom line is, no matter how good a surfer you are, no company is going to sink one dime on you if they think you’re going to bolt at any minute. Or die out there because you took one risk too many.”
Drea made a scoffing sound. “They don’t give Rookie of the Year to surfers who stay back and play it safe.”
Kaydee propped up her board and faced Drea. “Hey, reining in your burning desire for danger will be good for you.”
“And my desperate need to prove that winning Rookie of the Year wasn’t a fluke,” Drea added. “As long as my motivations are being dissected, let’s go for the whole deal.” This wasn’t the first time her friend had brought up these points.
Kaydee braced her hand on her hip. “Okay, then, since you issued the invitation, I’m going to say it all. Enjoy. Winning the last competition may have given you the money to get to Hawaii and enter Banzai, but what if you don’t win here? You’ll be working at the Trading Post selling postcards to tourists while the other surfers are packing to go to the next competition. You can’t surf and improve if you’re counting on wins to get the money. You have to get a sponsorship. It’s your insurance in case you don’t win. And to get a sponsorship you have to—”
“I have to take it easier,” Drea finished for her.
“Some waves aren’t meant to be surfed, and I’d like to keep my friend alive for as long as possible.”
“Oh, yeah?” Drea asked, feeling uncomfortable with the seriousness of Kaydee’s tone. Drea liked everything in her life upbeat and happy. Hmm, she was more like her mom than she’d ever realized. It wasn’t just the brown eyes that they shared. Her mom had also gone from one low-paying job to another to support her dream of singing. Same lifestyle…just different dreams.
“Of course. How else am I going to pass my marketing class if I don’t have you for a case study?”
There, that’s more like it. Light and funny. “Come on, let’s hit the beach.”
Right. With only two weeks before the competition, she needed as much time in the water as she could get. Drea pivoted toward the surf and…
There he was.
“Look at his style. His control,” Drea said with awe about the tall man riding a wave with ease.
“Makes a girl wonder if he loses that control in bed.”
Drea glanced sharply at her friend. Did Kaydee know Drea’s thoughts often wandered in that direction?
“Come on, it’s not like you haven’t thought about what Kirk Murray would be like in bed a hundred times.”
Try a thousand times.
She and Kaydee simply stood there and watched as the gorgeous man surfed the way surfing was meant to be done. His athleticism was clear, from the muscled strength of his legs, to the ease with which he dipped his fingers into the water.
“There you are, Drea.”
Drea reluctantly took her gaze away from Kirk to see Linda coming up beside her.
“I should have known you’d be on the beach,” said the friendly and now breathless brunette. Linda was second in command to Taylor Dutton with the Girls Go Banzai surfing competition. “Those waves are pumping.”
Drea’s fingers tightened around her board. “I can’t wait to get out there.”
“Well, wait until you hear this. I can’t believe it, Drea. You are so lucky,” Linda gushed, her tone sounding impressed.
No one could help smiling at Linda. She had the kind of enthusiasm and excitement that was almost catching. Almost.
“What’s up?” Drea asked.
“I just heard Kirk Murray wants to meet with you about a full sponsorship.”
Drea’s stomach lurched at the mention of his name. Anyone’s would. Her gaze returned to the sea. Kirk was already paddling out to catch the next wave. As a three-time Longboard World Champion, Kirk had made millions through his endorsements. A true professional surfer, he’d traveled the world and now made frequent appearances on sports TV channels. She’d heard rumors of his retirement—that he wanted to stay put on Oahu and devote more attention to his very popular restaurant, Da Kine.
But sponsorship? Of her? Her heart began to race.
“Yes, she’ll take it,” Kaydee blurted.
“As if there was any question,” Linda scoffed, and the two of them both laughed.
But Drea didn’t laugh. Obviously this was the best break she’d gotten outside of the ocean, but Kirk Murray was a man in a different league. She’d talked to him once, two weeks ago. She’d finally scrounged up enough money waiting tables and from selling her bike to fly her and her board from California to Hawaii. As she was filling out the paperwork to make her an official competitor with the Girls Go Banzai surfing competition, the man, literally out of her dreams, walked past.
Never one to pass up an opportunity, she’d said hi. He’d flashed her that fantastic smile of his that graced everything from surf fan posters to ads for board leashes. She started to stutter out something, but then his cell phone rang, and her chance was lost.
Not this time.
“He wants you to meet him at his restaurant at two. Let me give you directions.”
But Drea didn’t need them. She knew exactly where Kirk spent the majority of his time outside of the water. Had walked by it three times.
“Okay, gotta run. So many last-minute details,” Linda said and continued down the beach.
“This is it for you. I can feel it,” Kaydee said once Linda was out of earshot.
“If you thought my promise to be good was pathetic, remember how I was around him?”
Kaydee ran her finger through her hair. “Um, actually, I was embarrassed for you.”
Drea grimaced.
“Oops, sorry. I’m supposed to be more supportive than that.”
“Forget it, you were just telling the truth.”
“Sometimes the truth shouldn’t be told.”
“Said like someone who plans to make a career out of marketing.”
Kaydee smiled. “Let me try this again. Really, I’m a much better friend. Supportive even.”
Drea laughed, then pretended to brace herself. “Fine, I’m ready.”
“The last time you met Kirk Murray you were just an unknown surfer bumming her way from one beach to another. You’re the celebrated Rookie of the Year now. And why is that? Because you’re good and now you have the cred to back it up. Don’t forget he’s interested in you.” Kaydee gave a gentle squeeze to Drea’s shoulder. “Now is your chance to really show him what you can do.”
Drea raised an eyebrow. “I’m really impressed. That was downright inspirational.”
“Did you believe it?”
“No, but the hand thing you did was a nice touch.”
“Wait, I want you to completely forget that if you impress this man, you could get the kind of sponsorship that would allow you to quit selling seashell necklaces, waitressing or whatever job
you can find to support your sport and be on the competitive surf circuit full-time. All your dreams would finally become real.”
Drea sucked in a quick breath. “Technically, that was worse.”
“How about, ‘put your big-girl bikini bottoms on and stop acting like an angsty teen with her first crush.’”
“Your skills at motivation leave me speechless.”
“So what are you going to wear?”
Drea’s eyes widened. She hadn’t thought of that.
“Come on, Drea. Flip-flops, shorts and a hoodie isn’t really dressing to impress.”
“The only other option is a bikini. I don’t have the proper clothes for a job interview.” She never had. The muscles in her stomach started to tighten. She also didn’t have any experience with the business side of surfing, and knew zilch about how people behaved. Did they shake hands? Dear Lord…heels?
“Don’t worry about it, I’ll loan you a sundress.” Kaydee picked up her board. “Come on, we’ll surf away those nerves.”
KIRK DRAPED his towel around his neck and peered out to the ocean one last time. The waves were breaking beautifully, and he could easily have surfed another hour without getting tired. Longer periods in the ocean helped with his physical conditioning, and his pop-up was getting sloppy, a bad habit he was determined to change.
He’d love nothing better than to paddle back out, but his day was booked with meetings. He slicked his hand down his face, removing the last traces of the salty water. Meetings, paperwork and corporate networking weren’t what he’d had in mind when he realized he needed plans for when he fully retired from the professional surfing circuit. No, all that serious stuff sounded a bit too much like his dad. Kirk’s idea of retirement was catching waves in the morning, playing on the beach with his nephew and spending his evenings in Da Kine, the restaurant he’d started two years ago.
Too bad his ideas and reality weren’t meshing. But he’d get there. Just like with his surfing, if he put in the hard work, it would all pay off.
He was just about to reach for his board and head for the car, when the bright flash of a red bikini in the blue of the water caught his eye. Mesmerized, he watched as the surfer angled and turned, making one brash move and taking one risk after another out there in the water. He’d be horrified if he weren’t utterly captivated. Just like every other man out on the beach, he noted.
“There are days when I think I’m a pretty good surfer. Then I see her, and I feel like a grommet.”
Kirk tore his gaze away from the beauty in the ocean to see Taylor Dutton’s second in command staring wistfully out into the water. “You’re not a grommet,” he told her. The term was used for young surfers.
“Thanks, Kirk,” she said, smiling.
“You’re too old to be a grommet.”
“Whatever,” Linda said as she gave him a playful jab in the ribs. “By the way, she’s confirmed for two. She’ll meet you at the restaurant.”
His gaze returned to the woman who’d just jumped off her board and into the ocean. No smooth glide into the water at the end of her run. His muscles tensed as he waited for her to resurface. Then he saw her head pop out of the water and he could breathe again. She was paddling back out to the breaking waves when he realized Linda’s meaning. “That’s Andrea Powell? The woman you suggested I sponsor?”
Linda nodded.
“Are you kidding? Look at her. She’s like a wild thing out there.”
“Which makes her all the better match for you. You said you wanted someone who you could help train, give pointers to. You have to admit she’s got the guts, it’s her style she needs to work on.”
The woman took on the wave like she was challenging it to knock her off the board. He admired her determination.
“And catch the attention she’s already getting in and out of the water. The other surfers are getting out of her way.”
“That’s not necessarily a good thing,” he said drily.
“Then look at the beach. What she has grabs people’s interest, and that is a win-win when it comes to sponsorship.”
Linda had a point. Which was probably why she was so valuable to Taylor Dutton.
“She does look fearless,” he said. And sexy.
“I knew this would work,” Linda said with a laugh. “I can already hear the excitement in your voice.”
“All she needs is a little technique and a little more discipline. She could be number one on the circuit in no time.”
“And she can do it all while wearing a Da Kine shirt or bathing suit. No one will forget her or your restaurant. Like I said, it’s win-win.”
Linda was very right. He couldn’t stop his eyes from drifting over the curves of the woman mastering the waves. The Pipeline was a monster, and she was handling it with skill and amazing beauty. He smiled, and his reluctance to leave the beach vanished. In just a few hours, he’d have that beauty to himself.
When he woke up this morning, the day that stretched before him meant practice time at the ocean and then a series of meetings. Now he was looking forward to two o’clock in a way he hadn’t looked forward to something in a long while.
“Win-win for sure.”
AN HOUR before she was supposed to meet with Kirk Murray, Drea had convinced herself that someone was playing a joke on her. No way would the great Kirk Murray actually be interested in sponsoring her. The man was a legend and he wasn’t even thirty.
Someone must have discovered the secret crush and set her up. She was an outsider, and certainly didn’t fit with the close-knit group of surfers. But who would be that cruel? JC and Laci were her biggest competitors, but neither seemed the type. Besides, they’d become such good friends while sharing their rented bungalow during this competition.
Maybe it was true. Maybe Kirk Murray really did want to sponsor her. A sponsorship would mean so much to her. She could get off her diet of whatever food the restaurant where she worked didn’t want. She could be on the surfing circuit from Florida to Australia, Fiji, wherever, and not have to sell off her possessions or plasma. She could make something of herself.
She sucked in a deep breath and held it, willing her nerves to settle down. She’d surfed the Pipeline, practiced in the shark-infested waters around Florida and sold absolutely everything she owned but her board to compete. But she’d never been this nervous.
She’d fallen for Kirk hard-core the first time she’d spotted him surfing in a competition in California. New to the sport herself, and supporting herself waitressing, there was no way she could afford lessons. She learned by trial and error, and what she couldn’t figure out on her own, she did by observing the surfers in the water. No one was a better teacher than Kirk Murray. His style and form were about as perfect as a surfer could get.
If she hadn’t already admired him for his surfing skills, seeing the man up close and personal had sealed the deal. He was tall and lean, his muscles stretched across his chest, showing his strength. He wore his dark blond hair short and spiky in a way that just made her want to mess it up. His green eyes surveyed the water so intently; she knew he was reading the ocean, learning the wave pattern so he could catch the best one. She wanted to be able to do that. She wanted him to teach her. And then she wanted him to look at her just as intently. To want to read and learn all the things about her, the way she did about him.
And she did know almost everything about him. After seeing him surf in California, she’d found a few moments alone on the Internet at the public library and searched every article that mentioned his name.
Single—yes.
Owned a restaurant—yeah, they had something in common. She’d worked in plenty.
Home base—Hawaii. And that was why she was here in Oahu at the Girls Go Banzai competition instead of staying in California and building her reputation in a place that was already familiar.
When she’d explained to Kaydee how she made it to Hawaii, the woman had thought she was crazy. But she’d lived her life flying by the se
at of her pants and not taking the safe way, and she wasn’t going to change now. Those very traits had won her the Rookie of the Year award and now, very possibly, a sponsorship with Kirk Murray and an opportunity to spend a lot of one-on-one time with the man himself.
She smoothed the skirt of the sundress Kaydee had loaned her, took a deep breath and reached for the door handle of Da Kine.
2
DREA HAD DROPPED blue-plate specials, spilled drinks and brought the wrong food to plenty of customers in the dozens of restaurants she’d been fired from, but none of them had possessed the warmth and welcome of Kirk’s Da Kine. Donning an apron and closed-toe rubber-soled shoes might not even be a chore here. Journalists, surfers and fans all mingled together.
If the noise level was any indication, the patrons enjoyed the place as much as she suspected she would. Laughter was abundant, as was the surf paraphernalia, which wasn’t surprising, seeing as Kirk had named his restaurant for the Hawaiian phrase for the best kind of wave. She expected to see more pictures of him; after all, that body could probably sell a lot of hamburgers and exotic martinis.
The broken board he’d ridden when he won his first championship was mounted high on the wall. Framed jerseys and wetsuits dotted the walls. Da Kine made her think of traditional Hawaii, minus the expected tourist tackiness. The shades of blues expressed a love of the ocean, and the traditional fare showed a love of the culture.
And Drea felt completely out of place in her borrowed green sundress and unpainted toenails. She eyed the door, ready to bolt.
“Drea.”
A shiver ran down her back. She’d recognize that sexy, commanding voice above the din of a crowded restaurant or the roar and splash of the ocean. Drea had heard it often enough in television interviews and the homemade surf videos people uploaded on the Internet.
Kirk Murray.
She turned at the sound of her name and her breath hitched when she saw him. He was even better-looking up close and personal. No camera did justice to his deep green eyes, or showed the true friendliness in his smile. Wearing khaki shorts and a blue polo shirt, he looked just as good out of the water as he did wearing nothing but his swim trunks.
Endless Summer Page 15
