Endless Summer

by Julie Kenner, Karen Anders

  Kirk shook his head. “I shower at home.”

  Now that was a shame. “That’s right. You have nowhere else to be until later.”

  Ahhh, the luxury. That’s what having a sponsorship would do for her.

  He picked up both their boards. “Come on, I’ll walk you to your car. So how’d you do the first time you surfed Pipe?” The Pipeline of the North Shore of Oahu was known for having some of the heaviest, most dangerous breaks in the world.

  Drea laughed. “Basically a sand facial. I completely wiped out.”

  They approached Kaydee’s blue Focus and Kirk secured her board to the rack. “Thanks, Kirk. Even if I don’t get Da Kine’s sponsorship, I want you to know I appreciated the pointers and your time today.”

  “I know I said I wouldn’t keep you waiting, but there are a few details that need to be hammered out.”

  She nodded. “Right. Sure, I understand,” she said, trying to sound blasé. Was he blowing her off?

  “That kiss changed things.”

  Her breath hitched. Had she ruined everything with her impulsive action? She could smack herself. Of course sponsors didn’t kiss their promotees.

  He nodded back. “And we’ll still work on your training tomorrow.”

  Relief poured through her. She hadn’t blown everything. A minute passed without either one of them saying anything.

  Okay, this was getting awkward. She needed to change, and he wasn’t leaving. She looked at the black asphalt then met his green gaze. “Well, bye then.”

  “I was going to see you inside your car.”

  If this weren’t such an uncomfortable moment, her heart would probably be doing some kind of melting scenario at his…she didn’t even have a word for what he was doing. Gentlemanly behavior?

  She wasn’t one to be shy, and she wasn’t going to start now. “Actually, I was going to change out of my suit.”

  His brows drew together. “In your car?” he asked, his voice incredulous.

  “Of course, haven’t you ever done the surfer’s change?”

  “No. Why can’t you just change where you work?”

  “A friend of mine got me that job, but the owner of the Trading Post doesn’t like surfers. Thinks we’re too transient, which is probably true. Something about we’re just learning how to use the cash register correctly and then we’re out of there chasing a wave somewhere else. Don’t worry about me, I’ve had plenty of practice.”

  “I’ll stand guard to make sure no one sees.”

  With a roll of her eyes, she opened the car door and draped her long beach towel over the door and to the roof. She secured it in place with the beach bag she’d kept locked in the car. Then she crouched on the seat, and began to strip. She’d changed like this dozens of times, but just like taking the shower, taking off her clothes with Kirk’s back to her felt like nothing that should be done on the side of the road.

  She had to lighten up the situation.

  “I can’t believe you’ve never changed like this. You talk to me about tradition of the sport, but this, my friend, is a time-honored practice that you’ve completely missed out on.” She hooked her fingers around her bikini bottoms and lifted her hips off the seat, sliding the material down her legs.

  “Imagining what you’re doing right now is driving me crazy.”

  “Good,” she said, not being able to stop her goofy grin. So he planned to keep up with her training, did his statement tell her he planned to kiss her again, too? Her top followed, and she quickly donned her panties and bra. Thank goodness the Post provided free uniforms. She slid the khaki pants up her legs and snapped the Hawaiian-print blouse closed.

  She stood and slid back into her flip-flops. “You can look now.”

  Kirk turned and eyed her new clothing. “Pretty impressive.”

  She shrugged and reached for a clip out of the bag still keeping the towel in place. With a few quick twists of her wrist, she had her hair firmly secured to the Trading Post’s dress code standards.

  His gaze lowered to her lips, and she held her breath, wondering if he was going to kiss her this time. Instead, he took a step away from her, lifting his board from where it balanced against Kaydee’s car.

  With a little wave, she retrieved her beach bag and towel and tossed them into the passenger seat. She started the car, signaled and pulled into traffic.

  Drea made a vow that she wouldn’t look in the rearview mirror to see if Kirk was where she left him.

  She even kept that vow for a good ten yards. Then she looked.

  And a tiny thrill ran down her back.

  He was watching her drive away.

  KIRK WALKED slowly down the beach and toward his own vehicle. He’d had the best intentions when he’d come up with the idea of the sponsorship and asked Linda for a few names.

  He’d had it lucky, he knew it. His father was one of the most successful hoteliers on the island and he’d never had to scrimp and save and sell his belongings the way so many surfers had just to participate in the sport they loved.

  The way Drea had to.

  What he hadn’t expected was to be completely and totally attracted to Linda’s first suggestion, but attracted he was. He’d asked Taylor’s second in command to describe the sponsorship prospect, but Linda’s cryptic “brown hair, brown eyes and average height” hadn’t prepared him for the beat-down Drea’s smile had given him.

  She didn’t just have brown hair, she had long flowing hair that made a man want to touch it. Wrap it around his fingers.

  Drea’s eyes weren’t just brown, they were open and playful and naughty. What kind of man could resist that full-on sexy combination?

  And while she might be average in height, when she wrapped her arms around his neck and fitted that surf-toned body of hers to his, he was a goner.

  He should end this right now. What was going on between them wasn’t professional. It wouldn’t be good for him or for her. But how fair was that? Drea clearly needed that sponsorship, and how could he deny her the opportunity just because he didn’t want to keep his hands off her?

  She deserved a sponsorship. She was a good surfer, and it was no fluke she’d earned her Rookie of the Year status. She had guts and amazing instinct. What she lacked was the style and caution to earn the points from the judges while keeping herself safe. He wanted to help her, he truly did, and not just because he found her sexy, or because she kissed him in such a way that he forgot about business or surfing or discipline for the first time since he could remember. He wanted to help her because he liked her and saw a little something of himself, that drive that made her want to push and push herself until she reached the top.

  He admired her and desired her all at the same time, and that was a problem.

  When he’d set himself down this path, his goal was to help new surfers in and out of the water. Could he give her the sponsorship and walk away from training her himself?

  IT WAS three o’clock and the tourists were milling about the Trading Post oohing over the dancing hula-girl dolls, trying on the brightly colored Hawaiian shirts and picking out postcards. Drea was slipping a credit card receipt into the bin below the cash register she’d finally mastered when a large bound stack of papers landed on the counter.

  Startled, she looked up to see Kirk’s smiling face.

  “What is that?” she asked, excitement racing through her body.

  “A contract.”

  “Really?” she asked so loudly several of the customers jerked their heads her way.

  He leaned over the counter, getting eye to eye with her. “I would have offered you the sponsorship this morning, but I needed to do some thinking.”

  “About my surfing?”

  His gaze lowered to her mouth. “About that kiss.”

  “Oh,” she said, feeling warm all over despite the heavy blast of air-conditioning.

  Something fierce burned deep in his green eyes. “That kiss changed everything. Suddenly, offering you that sponsorship didn’t see
m professional anymore. Still, you need protection, and that contract will give you that.”

  “Protection? Why?”

  “You need to know that the Da Kine sponsorship doesn’t ride on you playing in the water with the boss.”

  “I never thought that.” She rushed to reassure him, but she’d never be able to make herself feel sorry for kissing him.

  His shoulders relaxed and his smile seemed a little more easy. Had he been worried she’d only kissed him, flirted with him because she wanted his money? She’d be insulted if that weren’t probably his reality. Her mother had always said being rich rather than poor only traded one set of problems for another.

  Although she wouldn’t mind trying out the rich-person problems for a while.

  “What you’re signing is an agreement between Da Kine and you. Not me. Anytime you want to leave, you can, provided you do it in writing. If the lawyers representing Da Kine want to end the sponsorship, the conditions are clearly outlined, as is the protocol. I can’t fire you, Drea. The sponsorship is yours, if you want it. It’s not contingent on…”

  “Kissing the boss?” she asked with a laugh.

  “No.”

  Silly as it sounded, a lump formed in her throat. Kirk had gone to this extra trouble to protect her, to make sure everything was aboveboard. He didn’t have to do it. He could have given his sponsorship to someone who offered fewer…complications. If he had, she would have still wanted to see him privately. Surely she was that obvious.

  Those extra provisions were the nicest things anyone had ever done for her. Drea saw a whole new side of him. Kirk Murray was a man of honor, and that would have sounded corny, but right now she’d never wanted to be with someone more. That crush was turning into something more. Way more.

  Keep it light. Keep it simple.

  She tapped the contract with her nail. “So, technically, once I sign this, I could kiss you whenever I wanted.”

  “Technically. Sure,” he said with a shrug. “No one’s stopping you.”

  “Powell, what’s going on?”

  Drea straightened and addressed the booming voice calling her name. “Kirk Murray, this is Larry Cronin, my boss here at the Trading Post.”

  Larry raised one of his shaggy brows. “Surfer?”

  Kirk nodded.

  “Just a few more minutes, okay?” she asked.

  Her boss pursed his lips, then adjusted a display of Hawaiian coffee. “Five minutes,” he agreed, then walked off.

  “Interesting guy,” Kirk told her.

  “Not used to being so easily dismissed, are you?” she asked as she grabbed a rag to wipe the counter, hoping it would make her look busy.

  “You think this is funny.” His tone almost sounded accusatory.

  “It must be hard to not be treated as if you’re Kirk Murray, champion surfer. Or Kirk Murray, son of one of the richest men on the island.”

  “How about Kirk Murray, boyfriend?”

  She stopped wiping and met his green eyes. “Hmmm, that has a ring to it,” she said, opting for casual. But her heart beat faster.

  He pushed the contract toward her. “I tried to make this as fair as possible, but still you should have your lawyer look at it.”

  Yeah, I’ll have my whole team right on it.

  She nodded as she took the papers from him. Her fingers shook. This contract represented everything she’d wanted. Worked for.

  “Enough with the chitchat, Powell. Back to work,” Larry called from across the store.

  “Am I going to get you into trouble?” Kirk asked.

  “Don’t worry about it. I have a feeling I won’t be working here much longer.” She couldn’t stop smiling or keep the excitement out of her voice.

  “According to the agreement, you’ll receive your first paycheck a week from Friday, but maybe we can get you a bridge loan. You’ll need to get publicity shots and suit fittings before the competition,” Kirk explained.

  “New suits?” No more clearance rack. No more stretched-out, salt-damaged and sun-bleached bikinis.

  “Featuring the Da Kine logo.”

  “Of course,” she said, grinning.

  “We can talk about that tonight. I’ll pick you up at eight. My parents are having a cocktail party at the hotel lounge.”

  “Powell.”

  “He’s leaving,” she called good-naturedly, but right now she felt as if she were floating on a cloud. That’s how good she felt.

  “See you tonight, Drea.”

  Kirk left her with two thoughts. First, she hadn’t said yes to going out with him tonight. And second…what the hell would she wear to a cocktail party?

  4

  BETWEEN Kaydee, Laci and JC, Drea was outfitted in a simple black backless dress. “These strappy heels are the perfect touch. Thanks for all your help, Kaydee,” Drea said as she turned away from the full-length mirror to smile at her friends.

  “The one who’s going to need help is Kirk Murray. You look stunning,” JC said with a laugh.

  “I can’t believe I agreed to go to a cocktail party,” Drea said, adjusting the skirt.

  “You’ll do great.”

  Right on cue, there was a knock at the door. Drea rushed to answer it and her mouth nearly dropped open. She’d seen Kirk in swim trunks on the beach, casual at his restaurant and now in a dark suit and tie and carrying a yellow hibiscus. Talk about stunning.

  After a quick round of introductions, Kirk escorted her to his car, the kind of vehicle that was probably worth more than she’d ever earned. Soft leather seats, navigation system and the kind of stereo that would have made her high-school boyfriend cry.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, but your place looked kind of small. Where do you sleep?” he asked once they were on the road.

  “Oh, Kaydee doesn’t live there. She’s a business student at the Western Oahu campus. She’s been using me as her marketing project.” Was he asking about the sleeping arrangements out of curiosity or for more personal reasons? Her mouth went a little dry thinking about those very personal reasons.

  “Two roommates, a job and now this friend you’re helping. That’s a lot of distractions. How can you train that way?”

  “Believe me, I’ve had to do a lot worse to keep my head above water,” she said, chuckling.

  Kirk didn’t join in. “I’m not sure that you should. You’re about to enter a major competition. You need restorative sleep. Time to focus.”

  “Is that like merging with a wave?”

  “Drea, I’m serious. Things are different now. It’s not just about you. You represent Da Kine. You have to be in peak physical condition. Not to mention looking good for your publicity shots. Not that you’ll have any trouble looking fantastic, but bags under your eyes will not translate well onto a poster.”

  “I understand, but there’s nothing much I can do about it.” Hawaii was notorious for its high prices and sharing a place to stay came with the bargain of living on the circuit.

  With a press of some buttons on the steering wheel, a phone, set on Speaker, was ringing. “Makana Hotel.”

  “Hi, James, it’s Kirk Murray. I need a suite for the next two weeks.”

  “Certainly, Mr. Murray. We’re booked tonight, but with a little finesse I’ll have an opening tomorrow. Beachfront?”

  “Finesse away. Put it under the name of Andrea Powell.”

  “Ahh, the daredevil rookie. Your father mentioned you might be looking for new ventures. I take it things are working out.”

  He smiled before he answered, and Drea felt like grinding her teeth.

  “Really well.”

  With another push of the buttons, the call ended. Although she knew it was a mistake, Drea didn’t wait to count to ten before turning on him. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

  “Did what? James has been working in our hotel for years. It’s no big deal.”

  “You could have asked. Maybe talked with me about it.” She took a deep breath and glanced out her window. Wat
ched palm trees whizz by.

  “The Makana is right off the beach. No surfers’ changes in the car. Showers in your own place. I thought you’d be happy.”

  “I understand what you were trying to do, but you can’t take over. That wasn’t what I expected when I signed the contract.”

  With a flick of his wrist, he signaled and turned into the parking lot of a large high-rise hotel. The Makana. Her new home for the next two weeks, starting tomorrow. He pulled his car out of the way of traffic, put it in Park and faced her.

  “This sponsorship thing is new to me. I saw a problem and I wanted to fix it. But Drea, you can’t tell me you wanted to keep sharing with your friends. This way you’ll have the quiet you need to focus, and room service.”

  Her eyes widened. “No more cooking? I can’t remember the last time I ate something I didn’t have to cook. Not that soup or macaroni and cheese is all that hard.”

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “Laci and JC, they’re part of the competition surf crowd. All those girls know each other. They’re friends. I’m just…just an interloper. Which is fine, I’m used to it, believe me. I was always the new girl in school. The new employee, the new whatever. Staying with Laci and JC sort of eased my transition.”

  Understanding entered his eyes, and his expression softened. “The surf crowd is your crowd now. You need to start building those networks without using Laci and JC as a crutch. They won’t always be there.”

  Kirk was right. She knew it. Drea just didn’t want to start working on those friendships. She was much more comfortable with the loner role she’d cast herself in.

  He reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. “How about if I promise to not make decisions like that again, if you promise to give this living arrangement a try. If you don’t like it, we’ll leave.”

  “And you won’t be weird about it?”

  “I’ll buy you the can of chicken noodle myself.”

  She squeezed his hand back. “Thanks.”

  “Glad we got that out of the way. Our first fight.”

  They both laughed. Their relationship, or whatever it could be called, was certainly on the fast track.