But she controlled herself, because: A) She had no right to do that; she wasn’t “with” Will, she’d never been “with” Will.; B) She couldn’t allow herself to trust him again. Hadn’t she learned her lesson? And C) She could not get that close to the water. Seeing it at a distance was one thing, but the thought of dipping in even one toe made her bite back another scream.
She couldn’t help watching as Will was swarmed by other guys in wetsuits. Here she was in a literal marine paradise and she was terrified at the idea of swimming, terrified even that Will was in the water.
You shouldn’t care about him in that way, she reminded herself. She had once and ended up with a broken heart and a huge gap in her memory. Note to self to never drink that much again.
But damn is Will hot, she added, noting his curly, wet hair. So dang hot.
While being ushered toward the makeshift stage, Will came up to the barricade where fans lined up behind the rope, extending their hands. Like a rock star, he slapped each hand with a high five while working his way down the line, soaking wet and grinning and just about the sexiest thing she’d ever seen.
As he came closer, the crowd behind Justine started to push, forcing her right to the rope. Will was only a few people away now. Was she supposed to slap him a caveman high five like everyone else? Should she slide back and let one of his real fans take her place? The closer he got—the closer his curly wet hair and sexy smile got—she didn’t feel like giving him a high five as congratulation; she felt like giving him a hug…at the very least. But how inappropriate would that be?
There wasn’t much choice in the matter, anyway. She was shoved up to the rope and was about to receive the next high five when Will stopped right in front of her, his brown eyes locking on hers. He reached out, but not to slap her palm. Instead, his hand cupped her cheek, then slid behind her neck, pulling her toward him.
His firm lips crashing over hers sent a shockwave of heat from her mouth to her cheeks then out her fingers. Will’s other hand slid under her hair, holding her face in place. She stumbled forward, searching for some part of him to hold onto. Her hands found his sides, the slippery material of his wetsuit sopping wet and slick, but she could feel the hard muscles beneath, and she clamped around them. She could also feel the rope barricade cutting into her stomach as she pressed her body to his.
She adjusted to part her lips, wanting to breathe him in further, get a better taste of that sweetness on his tongue. But it was over. With his hands still holding her face, Will slowly pulled back and looked into her eyes. She couldn’t read the message he was trying to shoot her because it was over so fast, and the next thing she knew, he’d moved down the line.
The palms of her hands were tingling and wet from holding his sides, her lips still vibrated, the sharp, addictive taste of Will and the sea lingering on her tongue. She stared at his back as he continued slapping high fives on his way to the stage.
She put a hand over her mouth and one over her heart that had not slowed down. The front of her dress was damp from where she’d pressed herself flat against his body. Her head screamed with alarm and confusion while the silly flutter in her stomach made her want to giggle. When she lowered her hands, she noticed everyone around her was staring. Some even had phones out, taking pictures. Of her.
“So, you know Chase?” a woman in a pink string bikini asked.
Heat of embarrassment rose to her cheeks, and the question didn’t help. Was Will renowned for kissing random women on the sidelines on a regular basis?
“Um, yeah,” Justine said, still fighting against that strange sensation to giggle.
“How?” another woman in a similarly tiny bikini queried.
Justine suddenly felt the fattening effects of the four fish tacos she’d had for dinner last night—right on her hips. She was about to reply, but remembered she’d promised not to say anything yet. Besides, what would she tell them?
“Oh just, ya know”—she shrugged vaguely and twirled some hair around a finger—“from around.”
Jeez, was she trying to appear like an airhead or a hussy?
“Oh,” the first girl said. She was all tan and perfect and beachy looking. Justine had never had body image issues, but standing in the middle of, like, a hundred surfer babes, she felt pretty unspectacular in her damp sundress and flip-flops.
Getting back to work and ignoring the gawkers was the logical remedy. So while the results were announced, she jotted more notes, also trying to ignore the salt coating her lips, or the phantom feel of Will’s strong hands under her hair, the sunny smell of his skin.
Chase Ryder didn’t win the Eddie, but he got an award—she would ask him about it later—and an extra ovation. It was obvious he was beloved among this group, and she wondered why he’d retired. Will couldn’t have been older than twenty-seven. Was that the age when most competitive surfers were sent to pasture? She jotted that down, too, so she wouldn’t forget to ask. After all, he’d only promised her an hour.
There were more autographs to have and fists to bump, and Will seemed to be enjoying it. This might take a while. So, Justine talked to some of the officials and judges, getting other personal stories about the Eddie. It surprised her when Will broke from the crowd and strolled over, shaking hands along the way.
“Hey,” he said, wearing that same sexy smile that made her want to kiss him again. His hair was still damp, causing the longer ends on top to stand up in tall curls. Under the afternoon sunshine, his brown eyes looked the same golden color as the sand.
“Hey,” she replied, not knowing how to be professional (re: not attracted to this guy), and be a woman with a pulse at the same time. “Um, congratulations.”
“Thanks.” He chuckled under his breath and looked down at the sand. “Sorry about…before.” Slowly, he met her eyes. “I got caught up in the moment.”
The flutter in her stomach stilled, replaced with disappointment and quite a bit of anger at herself. Had one kiss almost made her forget the past?
“No problem,” she said, waving a hand through the air. “Caught up in the moment”—she pressed her lips together—“yeah, totally. Me, too.”
Okay, now she kind of wanted to die. She’d been expecting to interview Chase Ryder but ended up kissing Will Davenport—the guy who broke her heart by disappearing without a word. Gah! But that kiss was by far the sexiest, most spontaneous kiss she’d ever had. Every time she looked at him, it was like her fingers and lips twitched, wanting to touch him again.
Yet the kiss had meant nothing to Will.
Hmm, so obviously what happened a year ago wasn’t an isolated incident. Love ‘em and leave ‘em. He hasn’t changed at bit. Duly noted.
She swallowed and tried to appear unaffected, which was pretty difficult with the way Will was smiling at her. Finally, he broke eye contact and gazed toward the water.
“Damn, that was fun.”
For a moment, she thought he was talking about their kiss, but then she caught the longing in his eyes as he stared at the ocean. A cold wave curled around Justine’s heart. Would any woman be able to make him look at her like that? So enraptured? She couldn’t help wondering if Will looked the same way when he was in love.
“I know you’re busy,” she said, “but when will you have time for me? I’m kind of on a deadline to make tonight’s online edition.”
“I’m free now.”
“Oh. Great.” She hadn’t expected him to be available so soon. There were still two hundred people on the beach, many of which were probably there to see him.
“Let me grab my stuff.”
She nodded and watched him walk away. He was still wearing his wetsuit top, but she could see the outlines of muscles working in his back and shoulders. Her hands had been holding his tight waist just a short time ago. She felt that tingling in her fingers again.
On one of their four dates, they’d gone dancing. Will was a good dancer and she’d felt those same muscles through his shirt back then. Why hadn’t i
t dawned on her that there had to be another side to the guy who sat behind a computer all day? And why the hell did he still have his shirt on now?
She mentally kicked herself, forcing her mind to recall the last memory she had of him…
Will had vanished—poof! No phone call, no nothing, only a note on the pillow beside her when she’d woken up in his bed the next morning. The whole experience had been mortifying, punctuated by a staggering hangover that lasted two days. All these months later, she still couldn’t remember what happened between them that night.
There wasn’t an inch of her that wasn’t dying to know the whole truth. Then again, was that more important than trumping her own scoop by adding the real name of Chase Ryder to her story?
The reporter in her hadn’t decided.
Will returned with a duffel bag. “Ready?”
“Sure.”
“Are you staying at one of the B&B’s?” he asked.
“No, I couldn’t find a hotel. Too short notice, so I squatted with a friend of a friend.”
“That’s convenient,” he said as they treaded in the sand toward the road.
“I just needed one night, so it was perfect.”
Will stopped at a ragtop Jeep. “This is me.”
“Oh. Okay. Should we meet or…”
“I know you requested a public place, but I’d rather not discuss what we’re going to discuss in public. Would you mind if I drove us somewhere?” His sunny brown eyes held steadily on her, but there was something reserved behind them now.
Suspicion, maybe? Oh, he didn’t trust her, either. Interesting. Perhaps Will’s double life was more complicated than she’d assumed. Not that it mattered. Chase Ryder was the important part of her story—period. Her means to an end.
If she wanted to impress her boss, this interview had to go well. She needed Will relaxed and willing to share, even if that meant not in public.
“I don’t mind,” she replied, falling into reporter mode. “Whatever makes you comfortable.”
“The thought of giving an interview makes me very uncomfortable, Justine.” His voice trailed off as his eyes gave her a quick up-and-down, then he tossed his duffel bag in the backseat and pulled open her door. “Hop in.”
The back of her mind said something about how she should take her own car so she could abandon ship if things got rocky, but that seemed like an unnecessary precaution. Besides, her heart actually gave one of those silly flutters at the thought of sitting next to Will. Yes, she wanted to be with him as a…a professional curiosity. And it wasn’t like they were strangers, even though, for all intents and purposes, she’d met Chase Ryder only a few hours ago.
And then he’d kissed her and she’d kissed him back like their plane was going down.
More professional curiosity, Juss?
“I appreciate this,” she said as Will slid behind the wheel. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome, though you’re not giving me much of a choice.” He fired up the ignition and Justin Timberlake’s falsetto voice shot out of the speakers.
“I see you’re still an unabashed fan of pop music,” she noted with a smile, hoping to relax him with non-surfing conversation.
“Quite unabashed,” he agreed, returning her smile, though he turned down the music all the way. He rested a hand on her headrest while he backed out of his parking space. She could smell the salt on his skin, causing the back of her throat to ache at a sensory memory.
A few people honked and waved as he pulled onto the road. “How about we grab a late lunch?” he suggested. “I’m pretty starving.”
“I’ll bet you are. You were completely amazing. I’m still feeling chills.”
“Yeah?” A corner of his mouth pulled up into a cocky smile.
“When you were surfing.” She glanced down at her notebook, hoping her face wasn’t as beet red as it felt. “I was paying close attention since I’m writing about it.”
“Right.” Will rubbed his square, smooth jaw. “Well, every restaurant is going to be packed because of the Eddie. We can go to my hotel. It’s got a huge patio with a view.”
Justine’s heart gave an erratically hard thump, then her blood kind of sizzled on its way through her veins. She wasn’t sure if her body was reacting with caution to the idea of going to his room, or responding to the excitement of being alone with him. Her racing pulse told her it was the latter—which she knew darn well was the more reckless of the two.
“Sounds heavenly,” she said.
Wow. For a blackmailer, you kind of suck.
Ten minutes later, Will passed through the gates of Turtle Bay Resort. He pulled up to valet parking and tossed the keys to one attendant while another opened Justine’s door. Everyone called him Mr. Ryder, except when they approached a group of teenagers doing landscaping off to the side.
“Hey ya, Chase,” one of the kids said to Will. He looked about sixteen and had shaggy, sun-bleached hair and dark eyes that displayed an exotic blending of Polynesia. “So…damn, man, heard ya lost.” He put a hand on Will’s shoulder and grinned.
Will shrugged. “Can’t win ‘em all.”
The kid pointed his chin at Justine. “Who’s the bunny?”
“Don’t be an ass, Anton. The lady’s name is Justine, and she’s both hands-off and eyes-off.” Will pointed at the rest of the guys, then Justine felt his hand go to the small of her back. She automatically leaned into it. “That goes for all of you.”
“Bro, enough said.” Anton chuckled. “We know not to mess with Chase Ryder. Ooooh.” He wiggled his fingers at Will like he was casting a magic spell.
Will chuckled under his breath. “Wise ass,” he muttered as he hooked an arm around Justine’s waist, starting to draw her away. He was being protective in a…boyfriend-like way.
She should not have enjoyed it.
“Tell your mom I’ll be by to pick up eggs tomorrow,” Will added. “And you guys’ll be at the Pipeline for dawn patrol?”
“Dude, you know we never miss a Sunday morning surf.”
“See ya then.” Will and Anton bumped fists.
“Later,” Anton said, then his eyes slid to Justine. “You, too, ipo—ouch.” The kid’s expression twisted as Will’s hand clamped over his shoulder. “Yo, just messing.”
“Find someone your own age, kaikua`ana,” Will said with a fiendish smile, releasing his grip. “Let’s go,” he said to Justine, pulling her closer to his side. The sideways glance he gave her accompanied by the smile made her want to do that teenage giggle again.
“Eggs?” she couldn’t help asking as they started off down the path.
“Anton’s family runs a chicken farm in La’ie, five generations. Best eggs on the island. We give each other shit, but he’s like a little brother to me. We have Christmas dinner with them every year.”
Justine stopped walking and stared at him. “I…” she began, but then broke off. This was not an inquisition aimed at Will Davenport, though the more time she spent with him, the more questions she had.
“This way,” he said, waiting for her on a path that didn’t go into the main lobby, but around the side.
“You’re not staying in the hotel?”
“I am, just not in those rooms.”
Justine walked with him through an outside courtyard. The soft air smelled of exotic flowers and the salty sea. Will headed down another path toward a cluster of cabins only steps from the beach.
“After you,” he said, opening the door to the first cabin.
It wasn’t huge, about the same size as a normal hotel room, but the view was absolutely breathtaking. Without thinking, Justine breezed past Will and walked straight through to the lanai.
“My gosh.” She stepped onto the terrace. “It’s stunning.”
“Yes, you are.”
She stopped and turned around. Will was still standing by the open door, his gaze meeting hers from across the room. The expression in his brown eyes made her heart speed up all over again, and her fickle finge
rs started to twitch.
Chapter Four
He hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that, but any red-blooded man would have said the same thing. There were no two ways about it: Justine was stunning. Though maybe it wasn’t the most appropriate thing to say to a woman he hadn’t seen in a year. But again, it was a reflex.
“Well, that was subtle,” he said, going for self-deprecating. “You’ve probably noticed, I’m as smooth as ever.”
Smooth, yeah. He’d felt about as smooth as a damn octopus when he’d grabbed her and kissed her on the beach like that. What had he been thinking?
Hell, he hadn’t been thinking—that was the problem. He’d seen her standing there on the other side of the rope and then he’d followed a physical reflex too strong to fight.
The way she’d responded to his kiss, though, had been a very pleasant shock. He’d felt her surprise, but then she’d held onto him just as tightly as he’d been holding her. If his handler hadn’t tapped his side, Will was certain he would have pulled Justine’s soft body over those ropes and carried her off.
“Got any Justin Beaver on your iPod we could play?” she said, running a hand over one of the patio chairs.
Will laughed. “I do have a line,” he said, finally entering the room and joining her on the patio. “Justin Beaver is way past it. And I think it’s Bieber.”
She tilted her head. “Are you sure?”
He frowned in thought for a moment. “No.”
When Justine burst out in a lilting laugh, powerful heat spread through Will’s chest. He had to take a few steadying breaths, then he folded his arms and gazed down at her.
“What?” she asked, tucking a chunk of hair behind an ear, looking nervous.
No, not nervous, that was just Will’s imagination. She was being careful with him, careful and professional and detached—which was exactly what he deserved. He hadn’t invited her to his room to break through the professional wall between them. Though having her here now, that notion sat squarely at the front of his mind.
“It’s great to see you again,” he finally answered. “I still can’t believe it.”
Making Waves: A Perfect Kisses Novella Page 3
