by Laura Moore
She walked a few steps into the surf and, cupping her belly, took a deep breath. “Rosie, I just want you to know that you’re going to be loved and cherished. I can’t wait to meet you and show you all the things I love to do. I hope you’ll enjoy coming out here as much as I do, that you’ll learn to ride the waves and also be brave enough to make some yourself.” Then, giving her belly a final rub, she said, “This is a good day to be born, Rosie. Let’s go tell your daddy we’re ready to do this.”
She turned back to see a runner approaching. Unlike the others on the beach, he was in jeans and a faded UPenn T-shirt. She waved and, grinning, watched as Max picked up his pace. She, too, hurried to close the distance.
She could see Windhaven’s roofline and chimneys when they met. A good thing, because the next contraction stole her breath and left her groaning softly. Still, she couldn’t resist reaching up to sink her fingers into Max’s hot and sweat-dampened hair and drag his mouth down to hers. She kissed him fiercely, passionately. With a growl, he gathered her close.
“I’m done with work,” he said huskily. “Feel like going upstairs and making a very sexy video to add to the collection?”
She laughed. “I would, but there’s someone we have to meet.” She took his hand and began leading him back to the house.
His brows drew together. “I thought we were free today. Who is it?”
“Our daughter.”
“Our what?” He stopped in his tracks.
“That’s right, my water broke and the contractions are getting slightly intense.”
“Your water broke and you’re having contractions? Jesus, Dakota—”
“Not to worry, Max. I’ve got this and I’ve got you. It’s all good.”
“No, it’s excellent,” he corrected, pressing a tender kiss to her lips. “Because you’re the best thing that ever happened to me. I know I may have mentioned this a couple of times, but I love you, Dakota.”
“Feel free to say that as often as you want. And by the way, I love you madly and deeply.” Her smile turned to a grimace as a band tightened about her belly.
“Another contraction?”
She nodded.
“Right. Let’s get you to the hospital.” Before she knew what he was about, he’d bent and scooped her into his arms, carrying her through the deep sand.
“I could definitely walk, you know.”
“I know, but give me a chance to be manly here, since you’re about to perform a miracle, an incredibly grueling miracle, while I basically hold your hand and offer you ice chips.”
“Well, when you put it like that, carry on.”
“It feels like a long time since I’ve said this: I love you, Dakota. Thank you for giving me everything that matters.”
With her arms circling Max’s neck, Dakota smiled into the deep blue sky.
In memory of Maxim Daamen (1948–2013), a friend who taught me about NVUs and so much more
Writing is a surefire way to teach me how little I know. This book could not have been written without the help of many friends who fortunately know far more than I. My thanks to David Olney and Carol Nulman for their business tutorials; to Tim Duggan, John Buttrick, Mark Goodman, Mike Gillespie, and Peggy Davenport for giving me such good ideas; to Sophia Shibles and Dan Horton for allowing me to incorporate their businesses into these pages. I only hope I did justice to the wealth of knowledge each of you shared with me.
Several people took the time to read the manuscript in its earlier stages. Their comments and insights made this story infinitely better. I am so grateful to Sally Zierler, Anne Woodall, Marilyn Brant, Anne Cotton, Paul Mooney, and Jamie Beck.
I also want to thank my agent, Emily Sylvan Kim, who cheered me on when I doubted. I’m very happy to have you in my corner, Emily. To the wonderful Gina Wachtel, my publisher, and Junessa Viloria, my editor, I consider myself a very lucky writer to be able to work with you. My deepest thanks go as well to Ballantine art director Lynn Andreozzi, for yet another dazzling cover. I am also grateful to Alex Coumbis and Ashleigh Heaton for their energy and savvy in handling the publicity and marketing for Making Waves.
As for my family—my parents, my husband, and my children—well, I wouldn’t be the writer I am without them in my life.
By Laura Moore
Making Waves
Once Touched
Once Tasted
Once Tempted
Trouble Me
Believe in Me
Remember Me
In Your Eyes
Night Swimming
Chance Meeting
Ride a Dark Horse
PHOTO: STACEY DOYLE
LAURA MOORE lives in Rhode Island with her husband, their two children, and their Labrador retriever. She loves to hear from readers.
lauramoorebooks.com
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