Coming Undone

by Stephanie Tyler

  “Are you sure I won’t be interrupting anything tonight if I come along to Magee’s?”

  “He’s my stand-in wedding date, not my real one.”

  “Uh-huh. Well, in that case, consider this an adventure. A big, camouflaged adventure.” Sam paused. “Something else is wrong.”

  “I still haven’t been able to get close to the water,” she admitted.

  Sam put her hand on Carly’s arm. “What can I do to help?”

  “I don’t think anybody can help. I think it’s something I have to do alone,” she said. “Except that Hunt wants me to give him surfing lessons in exchange for taking him to the wedding.”

  “Oh, boy.” Sam sighed. “Did you tell him you can’t?”

  “No, because I’m hoping I can.”

  Her friend looked thoughtful. “You know, this might be the best thing for you.”

  “Someone to humiliate me?”

  “Someone to help you light your fire. Sexually and otherwise. I know you haven’t had sex since the accident. And you’d been in a dry spell before that.”

  It was true. Right before the accident, she’d thrown herself into non-stop training, and so had Dan. And even though exercise was supposed to be a natural aphrodisiac to up the sex drive, things had been going downhill in their relationship fast. Dan was far more interested in hanging out with his buddies. For Carly, the idea of a night with him was five minutes of pleasure, definite for him and maybe for her if she hurried, and then he’d be gone.

  She’d ended up channeling all her desire into winning. It didn’t keep her warm at night, but she hadn’t realized how much she missed the sexual contact until Hunt showed up at her door. “How nice of you to keep track,” Carly said.

  Sam ignored her. “Maybe, if you got your passion back in your love life, you’d get your passion back for surfing.”

  “It’s not passion for surfing I’m missing,” she said, but Sam merely shrugged.

  “Sometimes passion makes us override our fears.”

  “For a woman who just broke up last night, you sound amazingly calm. And far too wise for…” Carly glanced up at the clock for the time. “Hey, doesn’t your first class start in like ten minutes?”

  “Shoot, I’ll be late and I hate being late.” Sam jumped up and grabbed a donut. “Keep trying to go to the water. And maybe there’s something to the surfing lesson thing. Maybe having Hunt with you will make it easier.”

  Nothing was getting easier with Hunt around. Things seemed to be growing more and more complicated, and Carly wondered if they’d ever be simple again.

  9

  EARLY EVENING IN southern Florida brought a gorgeous orange sunset mixed with yellow, worthy of the old saying, red sky at night, sailor’s delight. Carly hadn’t made it back down to the water, and to be fair, she hadn’t even tried.

  The bath to soothe her muscles had turned into an extra-long soak in the tub, thanks to a certain man in uniform she couldn’t seem to tear from her thoughts. She’d stretched contentedly in the warm water, had let her hand slide between her legs and heard Hunt’s voice the way it had sounded last night, rough against her ear, urging her to let go, baby. How she wanted his hands on her. If she’d had his phone number, she’d have been calling him, maybe talking dirty to him while she ran the washcloth over her nipples, pretending it was his tongue, demanding he come right over to make her come.And then she’d been jelly, because two orgasms in two days was more than she’d had in months. She’d forgotten how good it felt. When it was with the correct person. And Hunt had certainly done everything correctly.

  Once she’d had enough bath-time fantasyland, she’d spent the better part of the afternoon playing around with, and ultimately procrastinating about her next article. Her piece was due Monday. Although she had managed to get ahold of the person she needed to interview—an up-and-coming surfer who’d recently won his first major competition after a massive wipe-out in an early heat.

  Dude, I like went over the falls and totally pearled.

  “Yeah, dude, like, me too,” she murmured, and considered another bath as she crumpled the notes about surfer slang and culture. She threw the ball of paper toward the wastepaper basket just as the phone began to ring. Probably sponsors responding to the last-minute invitations she’d sent for the charity benefit.

  “Carolyn? Where have you been? Don’t you return messages?” Nicole asked.

  When she heard her sister’s voice, Carly made a solemn vow to always let the machine answer. “What’s up?”

  “What’s up is that your dress is in. And you’re going to need an expert tailor to fit it to you, because I’m sure it’s going to be much too big on top.”

  Okay, that was probably true, but it was totally unnecessary for Nicole to point out. “I’ll take care of it right away,” she said.

  “Yes, but you can’t take it into any dry cleaners to have it fixed. The top has a tulle overlay. It’s delicate. And I had to get this particular dress, rather than the one I wanted because Mother said I needed to choose something that would cover the scar on your back.”

  “Just bite me, Nic.”

  “Nice language. Anyway, Mother and I think you should come here to get the dress fitted properly.”

  “Fine,” she said through clenched teeth. Again, useless to argue. Think Zen thoughts. “Let me know when.”

  “Tomorrow. Noon. And then we’ll have lunch.”

  “And suppose tomorrow isn’t good for me?” she asked.

  “I am the one getting married next week. You’re supposed to be catering to my whims. Besides, if you don’t come tomorrow, the seamstress can’t promise that the dress will be ready in time.”

  “I’ll be there, then.”

  “And you need to wear something formal to the engagement party. Mother said that if you don’t have anything appropriate, she’ll take you shopping tomorrow after lunch.”

  “I’ve already got my flip-flops picked out.” She heard the gasp of horror on the other end of the phone and wondered if she’d been adopted. “It’s a joke. And no, I don’t need any help getting ready for the party. I’ve got something you’ll approve of.”

  “Good. Oh, by the way, everyone’s very interested in your new boyfriend,” Nicole said.

  “How did everyone hear about my new boyfriend?”

  “I told them.”

  Carly clutched the receiver hard and pretended it was Nicole’s throat as her sister continued.

  “They asked how you guys met and I told them that I was sure you’d give us all the details at the party. I mean, it’s been so long since you’ve brought a date anywhere and people are curious, especially about the fact that you’d give up someone like Evan—”

  “Evan and I were never dating—”

  “—for a soldier.”

  “He’s a sailor, technically.”

  “Whatever. Either way, people are interested.”

  I’ll just bet. “Nicole, I’ve got to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Carly hung up the phone, sank into the couch and reviewed her options. Because, as of one hour ago, she’d told herself she wasn’t going to search out Hunt tonight, and she wasn’t going to take him up on any offer.

  Now, she had to go to Magee’s and take some time to get their story straight. It would be more than Carly could endure to have her “boyfriend” outted as a sham in the middle of the party. Some maid of honor she’d be.

  “I’M SO NOT GOING IN THERE,” Sam said, as she eyed the bar from the safety of the cab while Carly paid the driver.

  It was very like Samantha to change her tune when they actually arrived at the bar, so Carly had at least been mentally prepared for the breakdown. “You were the one who used the line, big camouflaged adventure, remember?” she prodded her friend. “We could go back, though.”She hoped Sam wouldn’t make her turn around, since Carly had already come up with a thousand different deals she could make with Hunt, and picked the most plausible one. She’d offer to tell him the fantasy in place of surfi
ng lessons. She’d tell him she was too busy or didn’t have the patience anymore to teach. Most men would take sex over surfing lessons.

  Granted, Hunt wasn’t most men, but she knew what he wanted. Mainly, because she wanted the same thing.

  Sam sighed. “All right. We’ve come this far, and I’m tired of moping. I’ve been moping through the entire relationship. And really, nothing could possibly be as bad as last night was for me, right?”

  Carly had the opposite problem, and wondered if Hunt could possibly be as good as he was last night. Because, if he was, she was this close to revealing her Candy Valentine side to her pretend serious boyfriend.

  “I promise, you’ll have fun,” Carly said. She grabbed her friend’s arm and they walked past the row of motorcycles that lined the parking lot. There was a bit of a line, but she and Sam got smiles and winks from the bouncers, and found themselves inside the bar pretty quickly.

  “It’s packed,” she heard Sam say, but Carly had paused at the edge of the dance floor, half of which extended out of the open-walled bar and onto the beach.

  There’s a ton of beach between this place and the water. So take a breath.

  “Do you see him?” Sam asked, tugging her arm to move her forward. Carly scanned the bar first and then her eye moved to the tables. No luck. And then she caught sight of Hunt, too close to the water for her comfort and in the company of three women. Three very pretty, very young women who smiled and laughed at whatever he was saying.

  He’s not that funny. “He’s over there. By the water,” Carly said, careful not to point in his direction.

  “He’s surrounded. And looks awfully happy about it,” Sam said.

  “Thanks. Just remember, you were the one who told him we’d come here and you’re the one who talked me into this.”

  “Are you jealous?”

  “He’s my stand-in boyfriend.” Still, the urge to cut across the dance floor came with a sense of propriety that surprised her.

  “Aren’t you going to say hi?”

  “He can come to me,” Carly said and Sam laughed.

  “Playing hard to get with your stand-in, huh? Okay, no problem. Let’s get some drinks then.”

  They found stools at the bar since most people were dancing or on the beach. Sam ordered drinks and started talking to a guy who approached her while Carly leaned against the back of the stool and got comfortable. Carly was glad at least some good could come out of this mess she’d made. Her friend deserved to have fun.

  “I know you’re waiting for someone, but do you mind my company?”

  She turned to find a handsome man, with blond hair longer than Hunt’s pulled back at his neck. He was tan, which made his neon blue eyes stand out, and she was going to invite Sam in on the conversation when her friend whispered, “Camouflaged adventure at six o’clock.”

  So Hunt had finally torn himself away from his adoring public. Well, two could play at this game. “I’m Carly.”

  “I’m Cash,” the handsome guy said.

  “What makes you think I’m waiting for someone?”

  “You’re too damned gorgeous not to be taken. Unless it’s my lucky night.” He smiled, leaned in toward her. “What’s your pleasure?”

  “She’s here to see me,” Hunt’s voice interrupted.

  “I didn’t see her with you. And why the hell would you leave her alone, anyway?” Cash asked. And it was immediately obvious that the two men knew each other.

  “Maybe you could arm wrestle for my attention.” Carly was enjoying the bid for her time. After seeing Hunt surrounded by women, she needed to gain back a little bit of leverage.

  “I’ve already gotten your attention, and I don’t plan on letting it go,” Hunt said, then stepped in front of Cash and gave her a once over that made her blush. Dammit all if she didn’t want to melt into him.

  “Hasn’t anyone taught you that it’s rude to stare?” she asked, knowing full well she’d dressed this way because she wanted him to do more than stare.

  She’d worn a semi-sheer empire-style tank top, paired it with an older, broken-in pair of jeans cut raggedly to mid-calf and she’d put on a touch of make-up, mostly around her eyes. One last glance in the mirror to run a brush through her hair and she’d been done. Her mother and sister would’ve never agreed with that statement, since her hair tumbled wildly past her shoulders, but it was her all the way.

  “People have been trying to teach me things for years, but I’m not easily trained.” He paused. “For you, I’d be willing to go try, though.”

  “Really, now?” It was her turn to give him a once over, and he didn’t seem to mind. In his well-worn Levi’s and white T-shirt, with the ever-present flip-flops and hair hanging over his forehead, he looked like the best beach bum she’d ever seen. And that was no mean feat, considering he was standing next to a handsome guy, who hadn’t even pulled her thoughts from Hunt for a second. And she didn’t want to stop and analyze what that meant. “What kind of training?”

  “On a surfboard, Carly. You do have an awfully dirty mind, don’t you?”

  “Are you two going to get a room or what?” Cash asked as he looked between the two of them.

  “You must be Hunt’s brother,” she said, although aside from the blond hair, she didn’t see many similarities.

  “Teammate,” Hunt said to her, and to Cash, “I thought you were working? I thought you were behind on paperwork?”

  “I got bored.” Cash ordered a few beers, handed one to Carly and one to Hunt. “Here’s to not leaving beautiful women waiting,” he said pointedly, and Hunt just glared at him.

  “He’s always looking for the next beautiful woman,” Hunt told her.

  “Don’t believe him,” Cash said. “He’s simply not up for the competition.” Like Hunt had earlier, he seemed to have no problem attracting his fair share of attention from other women in the bar. In fact, they were slowly starting to circle him, and his attention wandered toward them.

  “I thought Jason wasn’t letting you start your R&R until you finished that paperwork?” Hunt asked Cash again, who was busy making eye contact with a tall redhead.

  “He won’t even notice I’m gone,” he scoffed.

  “Hey, Cash?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I think he noticed.” Hunt motioned to a man who was barreling toward them at an alarmingly fast rate, despite the number of people. He looked taller than Hunt, which meant he had to be over six foot three. Cash was slightly shorter than Hunt, and leaner, too, and she wondered if he’d have a shot against the living, breathing tank headed in their direction. Cash swore under his breath and disappeared into the crowd. Carly noticed he managed to snag the redhead on the way.

  “Sorry about that,” Hunt said. “Jason’s my CO. I’ve got to remember to thank him for corralling Cash.”

  “So, you’re really not up for the competition.”

  “I’m up for anything, but I think you already knew that,” he said.

  Her stomach tightened because yes, she knew.

  “But I’d never have taken you for the jealous type.”

  “What are you talking about?” she asked.

  “Why didn’t you come over and say hi when you got here?”

  She should’ve known he wouldn’t have missed her. “You were busy.”

  “Now, who’s not up for competition?” He sat forward as if he was going to kiss her and yes, she wanted him to. Right here, right now.

  “That’s a sweet tattoo.”

  Hunt groaned and pulled back, because another guy had come up from behind him and pointed to her ankle. And then he started to run his finger over the swirls of gray and blue, tracing the outline of the fin. “Colors are deep. You probably won’t have to have this retouched for a long time. But when you do, I know a place.”

  Hunt sighed. “This is my brother. Ty, this is Carly.”

  Dark to Hunt’s blond, Ty was Hunt’s height and good-looking, as well. “You get the tat done around here?” he asked.


  She shook her head. “Hawaii. After my first final in a competition.” The beginning of the glory days, when her biggest care in the world was waxing her board and lying in the sun all afternoon once the surf had wrung her out.

  “Ah, right. Hunt mentioned you were a surfer girl. Is that like a surfing tradition?” Ty asked, and she wondered what else Hunt had mentioned.

  “It’s more like an unwritten, do something after you’ve been circled by your first shark, tradition. At least in my surfing circle.”

  “I love a good shark story,” Hunt said. “Don’t be shy.” He slung an arm across the back of her seat, while Ty propped up the bar and waited for her story.

  She didn’t need much coaxing, especially because the story was one of her favorites. “Well, it was my first run of the event,” she said. “I paddled out, hung around with a few other buddies for a while, waiting to catch that great wave of the morning. My friends took off when the waves started rolling in, but I was looking for something bigger.”

  Hunt grinned, a wide, easy gesture. She rolled her eyes at him and continued. “It’s not like you can surf for any amount of time and not see a shark, but they’re usually far enough away that it’s not a problem.” She thought back to that day, all blue sky and smooth-as-glass water and that catch-in-your-throat feeling when she’d seen the fin. “It was close. Maybe three feet by the time I spotted it, but I’d been so intent on the surf that I hadn’t bothered to look around the way I’d been taught.”

  “Tiger shark?” Hunt asked.

  “Had to be, the way it zoomed up to me and started circling. I put my legs up on the board and prayed for balance. But he wasn’t leaving, and his circle was getting tighter and tighter.”

  She remembered her throat closing up in terror, her inability to scream, but also the sheer amazement at being close to something that cool.

  One of the perks of being eighteen and stupid. Very stupid.

  “What’d you do?” Ty prodded.

  “I’d planned to sit there and wait him out. But then I caught sight of this hollow coming up from behind me.” The hollow that had held the promise of the perfect wave, the curl angling exactly right, the bump beginning off her left shoulder and growing.