by Julie Kenner
“This is my fault. I can’t apologize enough. All I can do is to offer to handcraft you a surfboard and replace the one I broke.”
For some crazy reason, she felt on the verge of tears. A broken surfboard wasn’t the end of the world, but holding that piece in her hand she felt it was only part of her broken and battered dreams.
A warm hand settled on her shoulder. “Please, let me make this up to you. I’ve been crafting surfboards since I was twelve. I’ll make you one that sings.”
She felt his touch all the way to her toes and when she met those hot and devilish blue eyes, she fell all over again. She was not a fan of getting a board off the rack, so she nodded. “I would very much appreciate that.”
“In the meantime—” he walked over and picked up his board “—take mine to practice on. It’s beautifully balanced and wicked in the waves.”
“I couldn’t…”
“Yes, you could. I insist. Walk with me to my car and I’ll give you a card so that you can come into the shop and we can get started on your board. Deal?”
“It’s a deal,” Laci said, coming up behind JC. “After all, it’s only fair to make her a new board.”
JC nodded and smiled at Laci. “A handcrafted board it is. Thanks for the offer.”
“Thanks for being a good sport,” Zack said as he walked with her up the beach. After reaching his car, he leaned inside and JC got a full view of his well-defined back, the thick, ropey muscles contracting as he searched inside his glove compartment.
“Finally.”
Zack pulled his head out of the car and handed her a card. It had his name on it with images of custom surfboards underneath.
“Come by anytime you like. Just call to make sure I’m there.”
Where JC tried to take the card, Zack didn’t let it go. She looked up, drowning in those eyes once again. He smiled. JC smiled back and said, “And not out on the waves, knocking someone off their surfboard?”
His smile widened, a devastating smile that tingled through JC, stirring her blood and making her stomach drop.
“If they’re as beautiful as you, it’ll be worth the humiliation,” he said softly. “Take care of that cut.” He left then, getting into his car and driving away.
She walked slowly back to the beach to her friends. Drea was already looking over Zack’s sleek board.
“Hello, ladies,” a deep voice said at her left shoulder. JC turned to find XtremeSportNet’s promoter, Taylor Dutton, standing in the sand. “Getting in some practice?”
“Yes, we are.” Laci eyed Taylor and then turned away. JC saw the look of admiration in his eyes and a smirk.
A huge wave rolled to shore, and JC tucked Zack’s card into her knapsack. Taking Zack’s board from Drea, she headed for the surf.
JC WISHED to be anywhere but where she was. Cloistered in her sponsor’s rented office space in Haleiwa, a surf town that served Hawaii’s residents and delighted visitors with its quaint shops and cafés housed less than five miles from world-famous surf spots. She faced down two men who had the emotional IQ of a flea. She always thought of them as the California Boy duo. They had the same perfect blond hair, the same sharklike white smiles, the same barracuda personalities.
“JC, Lexie is concerned with your performance lately,” Barracuda One said.
“I’ve been off my game, but I’m getting ready to roar back with a vengeance.”
“We hope so,” Barracuda Two remarked and he gave her his perfect shark’s smile. “If you don’t win this competition, I’m afraid we won’t be renewing your contract. Lexie is looking for surfers who are continuously in the public eye.”
JC walked out of their office and headed blindly for the beach, trying with all her might to keep her composure. She’d vowed she wouldn’t cry in front of her sponsors and she’d kept that promise to herself, but now that she was out of the confines of the office and away from their unsympathetic eyes, uncontrollable tears slipped out.
She kept walking without thought as to where she was going until she walked into a solid living mass.
She didn’t even bother to look up, but just mumbled her apology and waited for the mass to go around her. Instead she heard her name. “JC?”
Her stomach twisted with the recognition in his voice. This was the last person she wanted to see right now.
ZACK WAS TRYING not to think about JC Wilcox. It had been two days since he’d barreled into her in the surf and the impact of her—all of her—hadn’t diminished.
He’d been disappointed when she hadn’t shown up to claim one of his handcrafted surfboards.
But now, here she was, and he felt the reaction to her tingle through his blood until her tear-streaked face raised and her stricken eyes collided with his.
“What’s the matter? What happened?”
“Oh, damn,” she said softly.
He didn’t give her time to protest or run away, even though he could see the intent in her eyes. He drew her over to one of the benches on the beach and folded down onto it.
JC looked to the beach longingly, but with a sigh, she sat next to him.
“Do you want to talk about it or should we just sit here? I’m not averse to putting my arm around you, strictly as comfort.”
That made her smile just as he’d hoped it would.
“That was really lame, Fanning.”
He chuckled and put his arm around her sunwarmed skin, telling himself he really was doing it for her comfort. Yeah, right.
“My sponsor is going to drop me if I don’t win this competition.”
To his surprise, she leaned her head on his shoulder and burst into tears. Being a guy, he wasn’t that comfortable with a crying female, but JC’s sobs were full of lost hope and so gut-wrenching—feelings he knew all too well. He turned toward her and pulled her into his arms.
With a soft cry, she wrapped her arms around him and just held on, dampening his T-shirt with her tears.
“Shhh,” he said softly. “I know that’s gotta hurt and be scary at the same time.”
She nodded, and he let her cry out her fear and pain until she finally quieted.
She loosened her hold on him and all he could feel was regret as she sat back on the bench.
“I’m so sorry,” she murmured, her embarrassment mirrored in her pain-filled voice. “You must want to run in the other direction as fast as you can. Can’t blame you.”
“I don’t have any intention of running anywhere.”
“No, that can be reserved for me. I just want to pack up and go home and forget I ever had a dream of being the best woman surfer in history.”
“I think you’re the best woman, period.”
That got him a watery smile and a wry sidelong glance.
“Lame again?”
“Totally,” she said, “but thanks for making me smile.”
“My pleasure. It’s a beautiful smile.”
She turned those exotic brown eyes on him and he felt the world shift. She was the daughter of surfing legend Slade Wilcox and volleyball champion Lalani Wilcox. Her mother had been an Olympian and had died in a car accident when JC was sixteen.
A warning went off in his brain. A surfing woman was a bad bet in so many ways. But the warning dimmed to nothing. Instead of heeding it, he let his gaze slide slowly over JC’s face. Her mother’s Hawaiian heritage was strong there in the almond-shaped eyes, the high cheekbones and the summer-kissed skin. He let his awareness of her body seep past his barriers, giving the first rush of arousal free rein.
He couldn’t keep his hands off her; he put his arm around her again and squeezed. Hell, he didn’t need this, he told himself, not for a minute. But damn, she was so beautiful and so lovely. Too bad he was a sucker for a damsel in distress.
She was warm against him. Her dark eyes moved to his in surprise when his arm settled around her, and that soft mouth curved, a mouth that had been in his thoughts since the moment he’d laid eyes on her.
The trouble was he understo
od how she felt. He’d been through the gamut of emotions when he’d lost his own sponsorship and slowly declined in the ranks until he was just a memory. With his free hand, he rubbed at his scarred knee and shrugged off the memories.
“You’re not going to prove them right, are you?”
She sat up straighter. “I know what they’re thinking. What everyone is thinking. She had such promise.”
“JC, it doesn’t matter what everyone is thinking or saying.”
“They’re saying plenty. I’ve read the stories in the papers. My father started training me when I was two. He made no bones about the fact that I had incredible balance and movement for my age. By the time I was six, I’d started competing in surfing competitions around Hawaii. Just a year later, I scored a sponsorship with legendary surfing clothing company Lexie. My breakout year happened when I was ten. I won several events that featured the best surfers in Hawaii in the seventeen-and-under category. Surfer magazine named me Breakthrough Performer of the Year.”
“JC you’ve had a great career up until now.”
“You’re only as hot as your next ride, Zack. You know that. I can see the story now. ‘JC Wilcox chokes at national competition. The girl who won the United Surf Junior Pro Competition can’t bring it home.’” By fourteen, JC had won an astonishing nine national titles. In the majority of competitions she’d won she had been the youngest competitor in the field. In Australia she’d been the youngest-ever finalist, and she’d surfed in events all over the world. “‘Looks like JC Wilcox’s star has fallen hard and burned out in a flash.’ That’s a direct quote.”
“Still, after all that success, you’re not about to let your sponsors make you feel as if you’re less than you really are?”
“Barracuda One and Barracuda Two? No. They have a lot invested in me and they’re right. If I can’t win this competition, maybe I don’t deserve the sponsorship.”
He rubbed the back of her neck and sighed. “It’s tough, I know, but you’re not out yet. How about we go get something to eat, since I’m starving, then we head over to my shop and make you a killer surfboard that will be unbeatable in the water?”
“Are you just being nice to me to get me into bed?”
“Who, me? Perish the thought.”
She laughed this time, and he felt his heart soar. Standing, he took her hand and led her toward Da Kine. “Everything always looks better on a full stomach.”
They entered, and Zack was greeted by his longtime friend and fellow surfer, the restaurant’s owner, Kirk Murray. When he wasn’t active on the circuit, you could always find him at his restaurant.
“Hey, man, I haven’t seen you in a while,” Kirk said. “Where you been?”
“Working for a living, unlike you, my friend.”
Kirk laughed and eyed JC.
“JC, this is….”
“I know who you are. It’s a pleasure and an honor to meet you.”
Kirk nodded. “I know who you are, too. Radical waves you took in Fiji. That was some ride. You’re awesome!”
“Thanks, but I didn’t win.”
“You should have. You got robbed,” Kirk said as he took them to a table with a beautiful view of the ocean and the setting sun.
“Kirk!” one of the servers called urgently.
“Looks like I’m being paged. Enjoy your meal. It’s on me.”
“Kirk…” Zack protested.
“Enjoy. Don’t forget you owe me a rematch at the pool tables.”
“I won’t.”
After their meal Zack insisted on walking JC back to her bungalow.
“Feeling better?” he asked when JC stopped to pick up a shell for her collection.
“The fact that Kirk Murray not only knows who I am, but also thinks I’m an awesome surfer has boosted my ego considerably. I do appreciate this, Zack. The shoulder and the sympathy…but about the surfboard…”
“What about it?”
“It was an accident that you slammed into me. It doesn’t seem right to hold you responsible for my smashed surfboard.”
“The hell it doesn’t.”
“Don’t get all indignant. I have another reason.”
“You do?”
She reached forward to take the sting out of her words and grabbed his hand. “I’m entirely too interested in more than your surfboards.”
He smiled. “What does that mean? I’m a guy. You’ll have to spell it out for me.” But he did know what her words meant. He just wanted to hear her say them, to solidify them in his wayward brain so he could get smart and not get more involved in JC Wilcox than he already was.
“Zack, I don’t want to start anything with you that I can’t finish. Besides, I’ll need all my wits and concentration to win this competition.”
“You think I’ll be a distraction?” So much for using his brain.
She let go of his hand and walked a few steps away, the waves swirling to within inches of her sandaled feet. Her voice was low, but he heard it clearly above the sound of the crashing surf. “You already are a distraction.”
He came up behind her, so close to touching her, close enough that he could smell her unique and heady scent. “This is really good for my ego, but I do have my reservations, too.”
She turned to look at him over her shoulder, her mouth wry, her eyes snapping with barely concealed interest and wariness. Her eyes met his and clung, then dropped to his mouth. “Oh, you do?”
“My experience has been that surfer girls aren’t a good bet. I’ve vowed to avoid them.”
“Must be difficult when you own a surf shop.”
“It hasn’t been, until now.”
The subtlest change came over her face and her lips parted. In invitation? Forbidden invitation?
2
JC WAS IN deep trouble. The deep-water, over-your-head kind of trouble. Zack stepped closer to her, his blue eyes mirroring the ocean in the diffused light from the beach. He was painted in shadows, shadows that delineated his broad, heavy chest muscles, the sleekness of his biceps and shoulders, and the power of his thighs roped in thick muscles.
Men. They were so damn beautiful with such strong, sleek lines, soft where they were supposed to be and oh-so-hard where a woman needed them to be.
“You’re looking at me like you’re having the same kind of problem. With me,” she murmured.
“I am.” He moved closer still, and her breath caught in her throat. He traced his fingertips down the side of her cheek, and then cupped her face with both hands, tilting her head back as he kept his gaze directly on hers. “That’s good. I’d hate to think the way I feel was all one-sided.”
The warmth of his hands made simple thought impossible. She couldn’t look away from the hot intensity of his gaze. He had captivated her as soon as she’d met him in the flesh, but now, standing so close to him, the sudden lack of oxygen made her light-headed.
Her hand moved and slid into all that glorious blond hair, thick, surfer-dude hair that moved with the current of the wind as fluidly as he moved on a surfboard. It was soft and silky and felt erotic against her fingertips. His eyes darkened as her fingers tightened in his hair and she gently pulled him to her, pressing her body against his. Her mouth fixed to his, stunning her with sheer sensation. The kiss sizzled, sparked, smoldered.
She pulled away and looked up at him. “Lapse in judgment on my part,” she said, her heart slamming against her chest wall. “Blame it on my terrible day and your sensitivity. I should get—”
He snagged her arm before she could turn away. “I think my judgment might be permanently impaired,” he murmured. As he slid a hand around to cup the back of her neck, her eyes widened. She couldn’t seem to resist. Before he lowered his mouth to hers, Zack’s eyes told her he was as incapable of turning away from this as she.
This kiss was soft, seductive and luscious, sensations as unexpected as a sudden rainstorm on a hot day. It cooled and soothed and aroused all at once. She thought she caught a sound, something between
a whimper and a sigh. The fact that it had slipped from her own burning throat amazed her.
But she didn’t draw away, not even when the sound came again, quiet and helpless and beguiled. No, she didn’t pull away. His mouth was too talented, too gently persuasive. She opened herself to it and soaked it up.
She melted against him, degree by slow degree. The first blast of heat had eased off, simmered into a deep, slow burn. She forgot about the competition, the pressure and her failures, knew only that she was tingling with life.
He tasted dark, dangerous, and her mouth was full of him. Her mind diverged toward taking, toward consuming, toward urgency. The civilized woman in her, the one who had her focus firmly embedded in her head, lost that focus as if it had swirled away in an instant.
Her mind reeled and she lost herself in the burning heat of his mouth, the feel of his smooth skin against her palm. An adolescent fantasy had turned into a very adult reality.
The warm surf pooled around her ankles, making her think of the liquidity of her response, the pull and tug of her desire settling into her sex like molten honey.
The ocean was her playground, her muse, her tormentor… The ocean—she couldn’t think—the ocean, surfing, damn, the competition, she pulled away, backed away, splashing surf onto Zack’s shins and thighs.
Her thoughts whirled with the possibilities of this man and she reached out for footing and found Zack’s hand around her wrist, steadying her.
“Whoa,” he said, staring at her, a mixture of hunger and shock in his eyes. But his touch only burned with energy that sizzled from her wrist to the part of her body that wanted him most.
The temptation was palpable and she wanted to sink down into it and let it take her so she didn’t have to worry, have to guess, have to prove herself. It would be too, too easy.
But even as temptation beckoned, she knew why she was here back home in Hawaii. She was here to prove to herself once and for all whether she was her father’s daughter.
And she’d known from the moment she’d met Zack’s blue, blue eyes, he would be a distraction from what she had to do. She couldn’t fail, and in the back of her mind, she told herself she had what she needed to get the job done. She was Slada Wilcox’s daughter, winner of nine national titles. He was a legend and she couldn’t let him down. The world was watching.
