Even the most experienced surfers were cautious about these dangerous waves, but Kelly craved them.
The feeling of power as she rode the tube. The adrenaline rush of coming out the other side alive. It wasn’t so much about the competition as it was the moment. All that other stuff didn’t really matter.
For the past couple of years, she’d forgotten that. The joy of the sport. But she was back. Today, she didn’t care about the business side or what might happen if she won. She just wanted to hit some good waves.
Rafe waited for her by her board and he took the number out of her hand, replacing it with a bottle of water. “Drink.”
She tipped back the bottle obediently while he taped the waterproof number to her back. She wasn’t sure she would ever get used to the way his touch sent her body into hyperdrive. Every time his fingers glided over her skin, he left a small tingle.
“Thanks.”
“You’re gonna win, babe.” He held her face in his hands and the utter faith in his blue eyes took her breath away. He leaned in and kissed her hard. “Forget him.”
She laughed through the wobbly feeling. “Who?” She winked.
“Good. These waves are nothing compared to what you were riding the other day. And it isn’t about the winning. Today we’re just having fun. No matter what happens, we will celebrate tonight.” He gave her a mischievous grin. “Though, that might be just as much for me as it is for you.”
She smiled and then scanned the beach; the first heat was lining up. They would paddle out, match the wave speed and pop up for the ride.
The judges didn’t score on mistakes, only on successes. Where the surfer rode the wave, what maneuvers they performed, and their professionalism at not wave-hopping to steal from another surfer.
It took timing, precision and a deep understanding of just how tempestuous a mistress the ocean was. Her gaze skimmed the horizon. The waves were coming in a lot faster than only an hour ago.
Rafe’s arm was wrapped loosely around her waist, but he let her concentrate. She snuck a glance at him from the corner of her eye. He really was a great guy like that. She explained the competition to him during a long, lazy soak in the tub during the storm. How she liked to measure the speed, calculate the best moves and how she knew when to pop.
Several riders in the first heat wiped out and she winced in sympathy for them. It was easy to see why they were in a rush. These waves were massive, and it took them a bit to build speed. One of the surfers made it through most of the tube when her board popped, without her on it.
The patrol was out in a flash searching for her. And it took a few minutes before they hauled her from the water and onto the beach.
Watching her limp through the sand, Kelly suppressed a cringe. A couple of lifeguards in red vests guided her to the first-aid tent.
“Hang ten?” Rafe gave her a small, questioning smile and a quick squeeze.
She didn’t have the heart to tell him what “hang ten” really meant. There was no way she’d be hanging her toes off the end of her board on purpose. “At least five.” She feigned the confidence she was lacking. If he knew, he’d worry and she didn’t want that. Grabbing her board, she headed down to the water with the others in her heat.
Including Jaci Smith.
Her spine stiffened at the sight of the redhead’s profile.
She paddled after her, keeping an eye on where the redhead pointed her board. Halfway to the break, she realized she’d forgotten to time the waves.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Get your head together.
But it was too late, the waves were rolling in so fast that foamy whitecaps appeared ahead of them and she had to turn, or risk cutting into someone else’s wave. Her gut churned. She’d no sooner twisted and popped than she felt the pull in the wave.
The back of her board slapped upward and caught her across the jaw and she plowed under. Only years of experience brought her back up to the surface of the water. She caught her board and rolled onto it, body riding in to the shallows coughing and spluttering.
Rafe caught her hand and straightened her board, but he didn’t try to take either when she walked out of the knee-deep water. She didn’t know what made her want to cry more—that he had enough faith in her to let her stand on her own two feet or that she had just wiped out in front of her peers and proved Greg’s point for him. Her career was quite possibly over.
“Water” was all Rafe said as he pointed her back to the towels and umbrella. He yanked open the cooler and wrapped some ice in a towel and then pressed it to her right cheek. She frowned.
“How bad is it?”
“Gonna be a hell of a beauty mark.” He squinted at her. “How’s the head?”
“Fine. I just smacked myself in the face, like an idiot, a washed-up, doesn’t-know-when-she’s-done idiot.” The same idiot that used her sister’s name to land a great boyfriend. Guilt piled on top of her already shaky confidence and she wanted to collapse. She didn’t need to compete anymore.
Why am I even here?
“Listen, stop with the negativity. Shake it off. Three-fourths of the surfers have wiped out on these waves and...” He dragged out his words, obviously uncertain. “Just plowed under.”
He was trying to talk her language. It was so sweet.
He slanted a hand across his forehead, shielding his eyes. “What is up with the water?”
“Storm moving in...brings stronger waves. They’re extremely fast, and there’s a tight pull that, if you don’t watch out, will land you on your ass.” Which she knew very well before she swam out there, trying to prove something.
“You’re going to have to teach me how you see that.” Holding the ice pack to her face, she downed another swallow of water and stepped closer to him.
“Look out past the point where you see the surfer turning. See the ripples on top of the water? They take time to build up speed and form the wave, but you can see how fast they’re moving by judging where the break is and the crest begins to form. The perfect wave is the one you get right in front of. You have all the momentum and none of the backlash. Trick is, you have to time it perfectly.” You have to feel the water and know when it’s ready.
The fourth heat was already on the move, paddling out toward the break.
“It’s closer in this time, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” Her heart rate calmed as she breathed deep. It was a lot closer. It was moving in five-to ten-foot increments.
The break jumped again as she watched, catching four paddlers and dumping them before they could pop. “That’s a tropical storm.”
She could kick herself. She canted her gaze across the water. “It was listed as a depression this morning at five, but it’s probably been upgraded.”
“What do you need?”
“An accurate weather forecast.” She glanced at her watch. Rafe wasn’t kidding. Most of the fourth heat had wiped out. A hum of noise rose up around the judges’ table and runners jogged out to assist the surfers.
“You’re up for the seventh heat, Callahan!” someone called out.
The judges weren’t bothering to write the scores on the boards with this many wipeouts. Her jaw clenched. Then Rafe turned his phone to her with a look of triumph.
“Tropical storm. Upgraded ninety minutes ago. It’s moving northwest at thirty knots. What else you need?”
The gain in wind force would continue to increase the wave speed. If she were off, even a little, she’d fail again. “I can’t do this.”
“Yes. You can.” Rafe crowded in front of her, blocking her view of the waves. “Look at me.”
Her gaze crashed into his.
“Kelly, you were born for this. Every bit of you is a true surfer. I’ve never seen anyone glide through the water like you do. You were talking about how good some of the
se people are, but none of them rode waves like you did the other day. You know the water. Forget everything else. This is your beach. You go show all these tourists how it’s done.” No hesitation marked his words and he left no room for doubt.
The sixth heat ran into the ocean with their boards.
“Someone told me once that all you have to do is believe, everything else is just the work. I believe in you, you can make this work.” Rafe’s encouragement echoed the letter she had written to him soon after he began his physical therapy. He’d told her about the pain and the frustration. A costly admission for a marine. And now those were the exact words he was giving to her.
He said he believed in her.
She believed in him.
“Okay.” She closed her eyes and filled her lungs with sea air. She could do this. “You ready to see me fly?”
“Ooh-rah.”
She laughed, a fresh burst of sound that relaxed the steel grip of fear attacking her chest. Grabbing her board, she jogged over to the water.
Moments later, after paddling out to sea, she sat up on her board and watched each wave carefully, her gaze locked on the break.
The thrum of the crowd, the music, the scent of burgers and beer—they all faded. She increased her speed as the break shifted, inching inland. The wind against her face pushed back the damp tendrils.
The roar of the water filled her with raw energy. Taking a deep breath, she caught the front of the wave and she exploded on top of the board. A spin, a hop, and a flip and she crested the wave as it started to tunnel and her heart soared.
She flew.
17
RAFE HELD HIS breath. His hands were clenched at his sides as he watched Kelly paddle toward a massive wave. She turned, catching the wave, and he hollered and held his fists aloft.
She couldn’t hear him cheer, but it didn’t matter.
As he watched through the binoculars the look on her face told him everything he needed to know.
She owned that wave.
Pure joy lit up her face as she swam back to shore. She walked with pride and he couldn’t wait to kiss her. He thought she’d rejoin him, but the judges directed her back into the shallows. She’d made the cut for the next set of heats. Or whatever they called them.
“If she spent as much time on her surfing as she does on that resort, she could own this circuit.” Greg stood next to him, pressed jeans, white polo shirt flapping in the breeze. His sunglasses hid his eyes and his hands were in his pockets.
“She could own anything she wanted to. She doesn’t have to prove that to anyone, especially to you.” Rafe counseled himself on patience. He was here for Kelly, not to pound her ex into the sand. Still, the latter did hold a wild kind of appeal.
“Hey, calling it like I see it, man. Remember, she doesn’t like to be told what to do, even when it’s in her best interest. She’ll jump ship when she gets bored. You won’t know what hit you.”
Was he really talking about Kelly? Did he even know the woman he’d once represented and supposedly dated? “Thanks for the advice, but I think I’ll do us both a favor and ignore it. Didn’t seem to work for you with Kelly—she’s moving on to bigger and better things.”
“Excuse me?” Greg took a firm step toward him.
Rafe smiled ever so slightly. “You heard me. Only a coward wanting to sabotage someone decides to strike right before the person has to compete. Just because you can’t do the job doesn’t mean you get to tear down the woman who can. She’s better off without you.”
“She’d be a nobody without me, G.I. Schmo. I made her Kelly Callahan. She wouldn’t have had a single gig without me because she was too busy surfing to worry about the real work.” Greg took another step toward him. “She owes me. And not even a dumb jock like you can change that.”
What did she ever see in this joker?
A woman wearing a familiar sportswear logo jogged toward them. It took Rafe a moment, but he remembered the spokesmodel deal Kelly had mentioned.
Rafe grinned. “Uh, Greg...”
The man had to be bottling up a lot of frustration, because he telegraphed his right hook louder than a mess hall call. Rafe could have avoided it. He could have caught Greg’s fist and broken his hand. He could have twisted and slammed him into the sand.
But he did none of those things.
Instead, he took it right on the jaw.
The hit barely rocked him, but he jerked his head to the side all the same. The smart-looking woman in the Baywear polo let out an audible gasp.
“Mr. Sanders!”
Greg spun around and the wide-eyed shock on his face was priceless. “This isn’t at all what it looks like,” Greg pleaded. “It’s just a disagreement between men.”
“What I know, Mr. Sanders,” she said through tight lips, “is that you punched this man. That is not the kind of behavior Baywear wants to be associated with, no matter what your disagreement might have been.”
“You planned this,” Greg spit out, whirling back toward Rafe. The woman gave him a wide berth, shaking her head.
Rafe had been right. The woman was with Baywear. He rubbed his chin, playing up his part. “You might want to consider some anger management classes man, you’re really harshing the buzz.” He’d learned that phrase from Kelly when he wanted her to rest for a bit rather than keep training, and she’d wink and tell him that he was harshing her buzz.
Taking a hit to reveal Greg’s true colors, not to mention the guy who’d tried to ruin Kelly’s performance today, was the least he could do. Well, the least he could do and still let the other man walk away with his limbs intact. Hitting him in the wallet was Rafe’s best blow.
“We’re done, Mr. Sanders. Consider the offer for Jaci’s contract withdrawn. Baywear prefers professional behavior from all parties involved.” The woman brushed him off and held out her hand to Rafe. “Amanda Clark, Mr....?”
“McCawley.” Rafe gave the offered hand a quick squeeze. “But you can call me Rafe.”
“Thank you. Who do you represent?” Her gaze swept him from head to toe. He could almost see the wheels turning in her assessment.
“My girlfriend,” he replied, searching the surfers for Kelly’s suit, and his heart stopped. She was paddling toward another turbulent wave, rising up on the swell and popping to her feet. “Out there.”
The muscles in Rafe’s leg clenched painfully. The wave was a monster and she did a pirouette at the top, the entire board spinning up into the air with her. She came down on top of the water, riding the surface like satin.
The pure terror clawing up his throat was worse than the snakes. Worse than the bullets that had ripped his flesh. It was Kelly against nature. Only she didn’t fight the wave, she harnessed it. Claimed it as her ride.
Magnificent.
The pride welled up in him as she coasted along. Damn, the woman could do anything. Even men twice her size hadn’t been able to hold a wave like that one.
He would do anything for her—even support her in a sport where she risked her life. He’d never thought of it until now, but he knew she’d burrowed her way into his soul and staked her claim on him the same way she had that wave.
His lungs begged for oxygen and so he sucked in a breath as she made it onto the beach. A roar of delight came up from the crowd and he quickly looked to the judges.
“All tens. Fantastic. You know, Kelly Callahan is who we wanted first as our spokesmodel. I had thought that Sanders represented her...”
“He did, Ms. Clark.” Only years of discipline kept his voice calm even as he wanted to cheer along with the crowd at Kelly’s success. “That relationship was terminated earlier today. I’m helping Kelly out temporarily,” Rafe said. And he would until they found the right manager for her career. They. As if she needed his help. His surfer girl had pr
oved she could handle anything that came her way.
Greg shot him a murderous look. The man loitered close enough to overhear the conversation and didn’t miss Rafe’s implication that Kelly had been the one to end their business arrangement.
“Excellent. We are a little pressed for time on the decision, but here’s my card. We can give you one week to decide. Please let Kelly know that we want her and we’re willing to negotiate a very favorable contract.”
“I’ll do that.” He accepted her card and offered his genuine thanks, but then he quickly jogged over to meet Kelly, Baywear and Greg already forgotten. He had to touch her.
Kelly threw her arms about his neck, wet and wiggling with excitement. Catching her, he swung her around and kissed her hard. “You rocked that wave.”
“Yeah, I did.” She peppered his face with kisses. “And I couldn’t have done it without you.”
* * *
“WELL, I THINK that went a lot better than last time.”
It was after dinner and Kelly and Rafe were strolling along the beach. The tropical storm had bypassed the island and left a gorgeous sunset in its wake.
“I’m not sure your dad actually ate anything.” Rafe grinned from ear to ear. “He was too busy admiring your mom.”
Kelly laughed. “I saw that. She was busy doing it right back to him, though. It is kind of weird, but I’m hopeful that maybe they’ve figured some things out finally.”
Rafe joined his hand with hers and they swung them together. The moment seemed like a picture postcard. The warm sand tickled her toes and she laid her head against Rafe’s shoulder.
“For your sake and theirs,” he said, “I hope so. At least tonight it was steak and potatoes, I definitely approve of that meal.”
Seagulls rose up, wings fluttering, and they darted farther along the beach.
“They’re happy. Dad didn’t buy Mom anything and she didn’t demand that they race back home for some party. In fact, I heard them talking about taking a cruise. Dad had this sort of tetchy look and then Mom said it was a golf cruise.” More laughter bubbled up inside her.
Mission: Seduction Page 14
