by Julie Kenner
When she’d explained to Kaydee how she made it to Hawaii, the woman had thought she was crazy. But she’d lived her life flying by the seat of her pants and not taking the safe way, and she wasn’t going to change now. Those very traits had won her the Rookie of the Year award and now, very possibly, a sponsorship with Kirk Murray and an opportunity to spend a lot of one-on-one time with the man himself.
She smoothed the skirt of the sundress Kaydee had loaned her, took a deep breath and reached for the door handle of Da Kine.
2
DREA HAD DROPPED blue-plate specials, spilled drinks and brought the wrong food to plenty of customers in the dozens of restaurants she’d been fired from, but none of them had possessed the warmth and welcome of Kirk’s Da Kine. Donning an apron and closed-toe rubber-soled shoes might not even be a chore here. Journalists, surfers and fans all mingled together.
If the noise level was any indication, the patrons enjoyed the place as much as she suspected she would. Laughter was abundant, as was the surf paraphernalia, which wasn’t surprising, seeing as Kirk had named his restaurant for the Hawaiian phrase for the best kind of wave. She expected to see more pictures of him; after all, that body could probably sell a lot of hamburgers and exotic martinis.
The broken board he’d ridden when he won his first championship was mounted high on the wall. Framed jerseys and wetsuits dotted the walls. Da Kine made her think of traditional Hawaii, minus the expected tourist tackiness. The shades of blues expressed a love of the ocean, and the traditional fare showed a love of the culture.
And Drea felt completely out of place in her borrowed green sundress and unpainted toenails. She eyed the door, ready to bolt.
“Drea.”
A shiver ran down her back. She’d recognize that sexy, commanding voice above the din of a crowded restaurant or the roar and splash of the ocean. Drea had heard it often enough in television interviews and the homemade surf videos people uploaded on the Internet.
Kirk Murray.
She turned at the sound of her name and her breath hitched when she saw him. He was even better-looking up close and personal. No camera did justice to his deep green eyes, or showed the true friendliness in his smile. Wearing khaki shorts and a blue polo shirt, he looked just as good out of the water as he did wearing nothing but his swim trunks.
Well, almost. Without his shirt, he was beautiful.
“Hi, I’m Kirk,” he said as he stretched out a hand. “So glad you could make it.”
Good Lord, she’d have to touch him. Get to touch him. Drea stuck out her own hand, and his engulfed hers. How Kirk made her feel warm and welcome with such a simple gesture, which people did every day, she’d never know, but he did, and her nerves vanished.
“Hungry?” he asked. “The grill is up and running.”
For the first time she noticed the inviting scents of roasted pineapple, banana bread and seafood. She’d had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich before she’d left Kaydee’s apartment with the sundress, so unfortunately she was full.
She shook her head. “Already ate.”
“Then how about a walk on the beach? One of the perks of owning a place so close. That way we can get to know each other better.”
That sounded more like employment Q&A, and her nerves kicked up again. “I’d like that.”
He opened the door for her, and she blinked against the brightness of the sun before sliding her sunglasses down her nose.
“So tell me about yourself. The information Linda gave me left a lot of blanks,” he said once they’d deposited their shoes in the bin provided by Da Kine and their feet were firmly in the sun-warmed sand.
“I like a lot of blanks.”
He smiled. “You’re one of those.”
She glanced up. One of the great things about surfing was that it was a sport that didn’t require a participant to be tall. At five foot five, Drea was comfortable with her average height, but she had to look up, very up, for her gaze to meet Kirk’s green eyes. “One of those—?”
“The kind of person that any answer has to be dragged out of them.”
He had her pegged. Drea didn’t like talking about herself, not because she had some big, dark secret lurking, there just weren’t a lot of interesting things to tell. Surfing and waiting tables to pay for her surfing was pretty much her life. “Actually, I’m an open book. Ask me anything,” she invited with a teasing smile.
“Where are you from?”
“All over.”
“Originally,” he said with a laugh.
“Springfield, Missouri.”
“Landlocked. How’d you end up surfing?” he asked as people milled slowly around them. The pace here in Hawaii was slower, more laid-back than even California. She was used to a more frenetic lifestyle.
“My mom had what she called restless feet. All she ever wanted to do was write songs and play them on her guitar in front of a crowd. We never stayed in one place for very long. Then we ended up in Florida. She had a job waitressing in Seaside, and one day I saw someone surfing.”
A slow smile appeared on his face, and he stopped walking. “And you were hooked.”
“Yeah.” She liked this. Drea actually liked this. The way she’d grown up, and her current nomadic lifestyle never offered much opportunity to connect with others. But Kirk’s tone and expression told her he understood exactly what she felt, how she felt the first time she saw someone surf. The first time she stood on a board and rode a wave. The first time she wiped out.
A warm breeze came from the ocean, blowing through the sun-bleached tips of his hair. She sensed he was studying her face. Thankfully she was wearing her sunglasses. She’d had a crush on this man for two years, but none of that was real. This moment was real. He was real, and she was afraid her eyes would show just how important this meeting was to her, professionally and personally.
Kirk turned his head and began walking up the beach again. “Who’d you take lessons from? I know some trainers based out of Florida.”
A question she hadn’t expected. Would he still take her seriously when he learned the answer? “I never took lessons.”
“How’d you learn?” he asked, surprise lacing his voice. “Self-taught mostly. I watched some videos on the Internet and checked books out of the library.”
“I’m still just amazed anytime I run into someone who’s out there winning competitions and didn’t even have a coach.”
“If I fell off my board, I tried to figure out why, and then not do that anymore.”
Kirk laughed. “That philosophy would have saved my dad thousands of dollars.”
Drea joined him, enjoying the deep rumble of his laughter. She knew from Kirk’s bio that his rich hotel-owning father had shelled out all kinds of cash to get his son the best instruction around. Of course, Kirk had the drive and the skill to back it up, but there were certainly no hot-dog-only days in Kirk’s life as there were for a lot of the surfers on the circuit. Like her.
“The information Linda provided said you won Rookie of the Year out of California. How long did you stay in Florida?” he asked as he continued to walk down the beach. Their shoulders were only inches away from each other.
“Two years. Mostly Cocoa Beach and Daytona.”
Kirk shuddered. “Sharks.”
So the big strong man had a thing about sharks. Okay, very smart, but still…kind of cute.
“That just makes it more fun,” she said, smiling.
“Okay, now I read you. You’re a thrill-seeker. You live for danger. That explains your surfing.”
“What about my surfing?” she asked, feeling a little defensive.
“The way you surf, it’s as though you’re daring the wave to throw you off the board. You do realize surfing is not a contact sport?”
“The way I do it it is.”
Kirk stopped and he faced her. “No, no no. Surfing is all about becoming one with the water. An extension of the wave, even.”
She kept her mouth shut and w
orked hard at making sure her features didn’t show him she clearly thought he was wrong.
“I can see you don’t believe me,” he said.
Guess she wasn’t doing such a good job.
“Tomorrow,” he announced, “you, me and our boards are hitting the water. I’m going to show you how to really surf.”
She couldn’t help the big smile spreading across her face. “Does that mean you’re taking me on? I’ve got the sponsorship?”
His eyes narrowed as if he were still considering it. “We’ll see how well you take instruction, but I won’t keep you waiting. I’ll tell you right after we’re done.”
She squelched the disappointment she felt at not being offered his sponsorship right away. Had she really expected it so soon?
“Eleven work for you?” he asked.
“I’m on dawn patrol,” she told him. The phrase used by people who had to surf early because they’d be at jobs at times like eleven in the morning.
He nodded as if he understood, but she doubted this man had much necessity to be on the beach that early. “Okay, sunrise it is.”
THE NEXT MORNING, Drea yawned as she was going through her series of stretches on the beach. She’d hardly slept the night before. One moment she’d been in a deep sleep, the next, awake, excited and nervous. All due to the sexy, intriguing man she’d be meeting up with in just a few hours. To surf with a world champion like Kirk Murray…
Even if he didn’t decide to sponsor her, to get pointers from someone so skilled was an unbelievable opportunity.
But it was the prospect of talking and laughing and spending time with a man she admired, found so sexy and wanted to know more about that had given her sleep schedule such fits. Sometimes when a person met a crush, they were disappointed, but Kirk Murray was very crush-worthy.
She felt a tiny prickle of awareness between her shoulder blades. She smiled, knowing Kirk Murray had to be responsible.
“Even in this dim light, I’d be able to spot you with that yellow bikini.”
Kirk carried his board with ease, looking pretty good himself this early in the morning in blue swim trunks and with a bright orange-and-red beach towel draped casually around his neck.
“No one can claim they didn’t see me coming with this suit,” she said.
“Drea, you’d be hard to miss in anything you were wearing.”
Was that…? Could that have been…? Had Kirk Murray just flirted with her? Goose bumps formed on her arms at the prospect.
“You paddle out. I want to watch you catch a few waves first.”
With a nod, Drea grabbed her board and ran out into the water. She couldn’t wait, longing for that first surprising splash of the ocean against her skin. Everything seemed right when she was in the ocean. She never felt awkward, and she knew what she was doing. The waves weren’t too high this morning, but good enough to show Kirk what she could do.
She took on the waves, aggressively and fast, quickly getting into her rhythm.
After two runs, Kirk whistled and she returned to shore.
She paddled back, and when her feet could touch, she lifted her board from the water and walked the rest of the way toward the man waiting for her. His expression didn’t tell her anything, but gone was the teasing, easygoing guy from the day before. This morning he was all business.
“Drea, when you started your set, you just picked up your board and hit the water.”
She nodded. “Right.” What was the problem?
“You can’t do that in competition. You didn’t even take a moment to observe the sets,” he told her, referring to the way waves broke into a pattern.
“What’s the point? I just paddle out and push through.”
“Yes, but you’re going to end up wasting a lot of your energy just paddling out. You can maximize your time in the water hitting waves and impressing the judges if you slow down and take a little time. Do some observation. Count the waves in the set and go before the next set starts. If you plan it right, you can diminish the water resistance.”
“That makes a lot of sense,” she said, nodding.
“Drea, tell me why you’re drawn to surfing.”
The question came so out of the blue that she answered him honestly without hiding her need to soften her desires. “I live for that rush of adrenaline. That moment right before I pop up on my board to the feel of the water rushing against my bare skin.” Her fingers curled around her board. Describing her feelings to Kirk made her want to catch a wave and experience what she’d just expressed even more. “You know, the ancient Islanders surfed naked.”
Kirk nodded toward the water. “Feel free.”
She laughed. “Maybe another time. How about you? Why do you surf? I feel like you were looking for something in my answer.”
“I was, sort of. I surf because it makes me feel like I’m part of something bigger than myself. Out there, alone on my board surrounded by the ocean, I feel at one with nature.”
Yeah, no. She didn’t feel any of that. She’d met a lot of Zen-type surfers, but had never figured Kirk for one of them. Interesting.
“Come on, surf with me,” he said, his voice soft and inviting.
If he’d said, “Come on, let’s get a root canal,” in that same quiet tone he’d used just now, she probably would have offered to look up the dentist’s number in the phonebook. She couldn’t imagine anything better than riding the waves with him at her side.
They picked up their boards and walked together toward the water. About twenty feet inside from where the waves were breaking, Kirk sat on his board and glanced her way. “Forget what you know about speed and aggression. Instead, I want you to think about merging with the wave.”
Ahh, making her see surfing his way was what he was after. Okay, she could play along, especially if it would get her that sponsorship. Rather than launch herself toward the wave, she slid from her prone position and began to paddle.
“Match your speed to the wave,” he called. She glanced over, and he was right beside her. Drea felt the water against her skin, sensed the wave pattern through her board and adjusted her paddling.
“Now let the wave catch you.”
This must be the oneness with the water Kirk was talking about earlier. Sure enough, the wave caught her board and began to accelerate. She popped up and began to ride.
She glanced over and saw Kirk surfing beside her. He flashed her a big smile. She’d never actually surfed with another person before. Oh, there’d been plenty of people in the water surfing next to her, but to actually surf with someone was a different experience.
They rode to shore, angling to extend the time of their ride.
“What did you think?” Kirk asked when they were waist-deep in the water.
“That was amazing,” she cried. If there were ever words she wished she could call back, it would be those. It would be obvious to a three-year-old she meant the ride with him was amazing, and not the technique of becoming one with the ocean.
The smile faded from his lips, his eyes. “Yes, it was.”
He didn’t hide the fact that his gaze searched her face, traveled down her body. Focused on her eyes. She knew when she spotted interest in a man’s expression. His body stance. Kirk was interested in her for more than business purposes.
Her whole life she’d been a risk-taker. Everything she had was because she went after it. Right now she wanted Kirk. She pushed her board out of her way, stretched on her tiptoes and reached for the back of Kirk’s head, drawing his lips down to hers.
3
THE SALTY WATER of the ocean had cooled on his mouth, but his lips were deliciously warm. She closed her eyes and pressed herself against the strong, solid length of his body. For a moment he stood still. Stood still long enough for her almost to pull away. Then, with a groan, his arms wrapped around her hips and he pulled her closer to his chest.
Adrenaline rushed through her, and it had nothing to do with the beach or a wave. It was all about this man.
He wanted her.
Just like she wanted him.
Her nipples tightened beneath her bikini top and her thighs brushed against the roughness of his. His fingers made lazy patterns against the small of her back, which made her want to arch against him.
A catcall came from the beach, and they broke apart.
Kirk scrubbed his hand down his face. “One of my biggest pet peeves is people who make out in public, and here I am doing it myself.”
She saw the frustration in his stance. His shoulders were tight, the muscles along his back taut. He hadn’t wanted their kiss to end, and even though she was just as disappointed, she was also thrilled that he’d felt the same way.
He shrugged, then flashed her an almost chagrined expression. “Lost my discipline there. Won’t happen again.”
Like the ocean, like a giant wave, the words that had just come out of Kirk’s mouth sounded a lot like a dare. She wanted to make him need to kiss her again and again.
“So you’re a man all about control?”
He nodded. “It’s what the sport is about.”
“No, no. It’s not control. It’s chaos,” she said with an excited smile.
“It’s focus.”
“Courage and daring.”
He shook his head, but a smile tweaked at the corner of his lip. “Discipline. Something you need to become better acquainted with.”
Drea raised a brow. “You going to teach me discipline, Kirk?”
“Now that one I’m not even going to touch.” Kirk angled his head toward the waves. “Got time for another run?”
That sounded more like what she had in mind. Maybe he was already beginning to see things her way.
Drea looked up at the sun, the poor gal’s clock. Disappointment coursed through as she realized the sun was almost directly overhead. “No, I have to get to work.”
His eyebrows shot up. “You’re working while in training?”
“The winnings from Rookie of the Year only covered my airfare to Hawaii. Luckily, my job at the Trading Post covers my share of the rent.” Money. It all came down to money. With her nomadic lifestyle, her mother had raised her not to value it. Of course, that was not really practical when you were trying to buy things like food.
