Ahead in the Heat (12 page)

I
f Annie hadn’t known better, her feelings would’ve gotten all bundled up in a knot of hurt in an instant. Sean levered off her about as quickly as if she’d said she had a communicable disease. “Shit, sorry,” he muttered. He swept in for one more mind-blowing kiss, but then he pulled away again.

He stripped the condom off in one fast gesture and wrapped it in a tissue before tossing it in the wastebasket next to his dresser. He pulled a pair of boxers from the top drawer while she stayed sprawled out in the middle of the bed, resting on her elbows.

Then he checked his phone, pulling up something she couldn’t quite see. But she thought it might have been a view of his front door. She hadn’t noticed cameras, but she wasn’t surprised that they’d been there.

Sean clenched his jaw, cursed, and started laying out his clothes. His movements were slow and precise as he went in and out of his deep closet, starting with his trousers, and finally choosing a button-down shirt. No tossing on a pair of shorts just to open the door.

The doorbell rang again.

“I’m coming,” Sean muttered. It was jarring how
the word had such a different implication moments ago. Annie now noticed the way Sean’s jaw was hidden behind a layer of dark scruffiness, since he hadn’t shaved in days—even though its strength was still obvious. It seemed to harden with his annoyance.

“Expecting someone?” She folded up so that she could sit at the edge of the bed. She pressed her knees together and tucked her ankles to one side. It was one thing to be completely, lewdly open when in the middle of a heated, explosive moment. Now, she felt so exposed that goose bumps skittered across her entire back. She wrapped her arms around her chest, tucking one hand into her elbow and nibbling on the thumb of her other hand.

He selected a gorgeous, expensive-as-hell pair of onyx-and-gold cuff links. Evidently he was more concerned about his image. “I knew they would come eventually, but I didn’t know it would be today.”

She lifted her eyebrows, prompting him to explain more. “Words, Westin. You know how to use them better than that.”

He sighed, drawing an expensive pair of sunglasses from a box on top of his dresser. “It’s Paul Ackerman. Odds are really, really high he’s the documentary maker.”

Alarm drew her to her feet, and she scrambled for her clothing. “Jesus, Westin! Are you going to tell him to go away?”

He shrugged, holding both her shoulders. “He can’t break into my house or anything. He’ll just wait outside until there’s a sign of me, or . . . not.”

“What does he want?”

He cracked a smile, but it looked tight on his cheeks, a dull approximation of his usual charm. “There’s no real telling. He just scents blood in the water.”

She shuddered, and only half of it was the cold creeping through her. “It’s kind of distasteful. All this. I mean . . . Why wouldn’t he have come to you first?”

“Because obviously he seems to have something that he deems a big deal.”

“What could it be? You haven’t done anything worth this.” Except . . . had he? She didn’t know him, not
really
. He had a little bit of a reputation for liking expensive women and the good life, and a little more for being Jack Crews’s buddy. But then again, if she hadn’t thought that she knew him on at least some level, she wouldn’t have painted her toes sparkly black and come over to do dirty things with him.

She knew he liked surfing and loved the water, and he’d worked incredibly hard to make enormous recovery gains. But none of that added up to
knowing
him.

“I see that look,” Sean said dryly. He’d turned to the mirror to finger comb his hair. His gaze caught hers through the glass.

Her stomach stilled even as her heart fluttered. “What look?”

“The one that says you’re wondering what I’ve done to earn a situation like this.”

She swallowed as she shook her head, and she could feel herself trying to keep her eyes wide. She stopped midshake and sighed. Her gaze dropped to
her toes. “If it makes it any better, I don’t
want
to doubt you.”

He took so long answering that she had to pull her head up and look at him. He wasn’t returning the look. He’d braced his hands wide on the edge of the pale wood dresser. His shoulders were a study in a well-muscled, perfectly formed man. The caps were curved and thick with muscle, but the span between was a smooth V. His neck had thick tendons, and his short, cropped hair showed off the place where they met the heavy sweep of his skull. She could put her thumbs there and dig in, and he’d probably only thank her for it.

He turned back to her, but not before grabbing his slacks and pulling them on. “C’mon. I think I’m going to answer the door after all. If you want to be naked, you can, but you don’t seem like the type.” He was teasing, but his heart didn’t seem to be in it.

She had to put on her damp bikini bottoms after shaking them out over the tile floor of the bathroom. Her board shorts went over them, and they were wet too, since it wasn’t as if they’d strategically draped their clothing in places where they’d dry. She had to scoop them up from the floor where she’d dropped them so shamelessly an hour and a half ago. She and Sean had been way too impatient.

Her cheeks and the back of her neck flamed, but Sean was so preoccupied with his troubles that she didn’t have to worry about him noticing.

He stood, tossing on and buttoning up his shirt. Every inch of skin that disappeared turned him into a different person. As his abs and that tan were hidden, he became more put together.

He’d seated himself in a chair next to a window and was brushing off his black shoes with a soft cloth. Between his eyebrows was a deep divot of worry. She wanted to go to him and give him a giant hug. See if he’d allow himself to rest on her shoulder a minute. It wasn’t like her at all. She’d always found it easiest to comfort those who were . . . God, who were less powerful than she was. That wasn’t a particularly pleasant thing to notice. She gave the kids who came to her center plenty of sympathy and love and compassion. She ought to be able to find a little for the man whose penis had just been in her.

Maybe she should stick to the idea of buying him a beer afterward. He’d been off the painkillers for several days, or his new physical therapist wouldn’t have given him the go-ahead to surf today. If anyone needed a break from healthy living strictures, it was Sean.

At least the T-shirt he’d given her was warm and soft, the cotton broken-in by probably hundreds of washings. Since she was fairly small chested, she pulled it on over her bare skin, figuring that a wet swimsuit to create damp triangles was probably more distracting than going without. Emblazoned across her chest was
TRESTLES
, the legendary California break. She tugged her hem down. “Trestles, that’s where you grew up, right?”

His mouth twisted, but he leaned back in his chair. His wrists rested on the lightly padded arms,
and he stretched his legs out in front of him. “Kind of. Six miles inland.”

Her brow wrinkled and her head tilted. “That far in? The story from the magazines is that you were practically a beach bum. Lived there when you weren’t in school.”

He gave a smile that was all bare teeth and wicked intentions. “That’s true enough. But it’s not the whole story.”

“Then what is?”

“That’d be what Paul is after, it would seem. You promised me Fiji, remember? I’ll tell you on the plane.” He seemed to be holding on by a thread as he slowly stood. He was a man at the top of his game; he shouldn’t ever look creaky or like his bones were hurting him. Hell, he hadn’t been affected even when they were.

“First class?” she asked, injecting a teasing tone into her voice. It was hard. Fucking hell, it was hard when her throat felt so tight that she thought she might cry any second. It went along with the burn at the back of her eyes. And wasn’t that absolutely absurd?

The problem had to be that she was out of her depth. She wasn’t the crying type, but then she hadn’t ever felt so completely at sea before. She didn’t understand what Sean was hiding that had to be this desperate. It was some publicity, right? No big deal. Except that the story involving his childhood seemed to be freaking him out. And in turn, his tension was leaching into her.

Annie didn’t want this. She didn’t want to
care
for him so much. She wanted all of it to go away . . . and
she felt absolutely helpless and unable to fix it. “Ready?”

He gave a solemn nod. “If you want to leave, I get it. You’re not in any way involved with the situation.”

“I’ll stay.” The words came out much steadier than she’d expected them to.

Ten minutes later, she wasn’t entirely sure she’d made the right call.

Paul Ackerman was a plain-looking man for being in filmmaking. He had carefully parted brown hair and a short-sleeved white shirt. At least he hadn’t worn a black tie.

Sitting in the corner of the living room, Annie tucked her toes under her butt in a sleek black leather chair. “You look more like a Mormon missionary than the man who can make or break Sean’s career.”

Sean shoved back a smile and turned away from Mr. Ackerman. He shot Annie a
Behave
kind of look. She wrinkled her nose and stuck her tongue out at him. Better she be there to make him smile and laugh than he should have to go through this alone.

The guy blinked at her. His mouth folded into a wry smile and his gently rounded cheeks lifted. “Ma’am, I have no power to break Mr. Westin’s career. I only have a few questions.”

“Then you should have come to me
first
,” Sean growled. “I don’t have any problem with shooting footage.”

“That’s great! Then you won’t mind answering my questions? I’d like to start early in your life for this project.” He spread his hands wide. “I want to
start with Trestles, then pan inland. To . . . Mission Viejo, right?”

“I don’t talk about my past,” Sean said.

“Where you went to high school is a matter of public record,” Ackerman replied blandly. But he was studying Sean with such intensity, Annie knew something was wrong. There was more loaded under those words that she didn’t understand.

Surprisingly Sean backed down. His eyes narrowed, and the muscle in front of his ear jumped harshly in the hollow of his cheek. “Fine. We’ll talk.”

Surprise parted her lips. After all this, he was just going to sit down with the man and give an interview? Except he hadn’t said that, not exactly, had he? He’d said they’d talk. That wasn’t the same thing as agreeing to answer a whole mess of questions.

Though what did he have to hide, anyway?

She pushed up from her seat and twined her fingers through Sean’s. “Hey. It’s your choice. Do you want me to be here? If you want space, I could totally make myself scarce by heading home.”

“Actually . . .” Something dark flitted across his expression. His mouth almost disappeared when it flattened. He shook his head. “It’s probably too big a favor.”

She squeezed his fingers. “What is it?”

He sighed. “I’m afraid this will come out wrong.”

Ackerman was tracking every word of their conversation with an avid, predatory gleam. Sean spotted it. He gave the slightest, faintest sneer she’d ever seen and folded his hand around her elbow to tug her away toward the kitchen, next to the lanai. “Is it okay if I ask you to take a walk?”

“I can’t just go upstairs?”

“I . . .” Sean swallowed his words, then shrugged. “Look. I dunno how polite I’m going to manage to stay with this guy. It depends what he asks me. And . . . all things considered . . .”

All things considered, they’d only fooled around a few times. That wasn’t the same thing as a serious relationship, and she wasn’t looking for one of those anyway. Not with Sean. She folded her mouth into a smile. “I’ll take a walk on the beach.”

Relief lightened his face, made his mouth ease into something that was almost a smile. Whatever else could be said, there was no doubt that this whole situation had him on edge. “I appreciate it.”

Leaning up on her toes, Annie kissed him. Because it was either that, or find another way to admit how damn happy it made her to be able to give him something. Even if that meant something so stupid as being able to give him distance when he needed it. She’d always thought of herself as independent, but maybe that was another way to say she was lonely. And she didn’t want to feel lonely anymore.

A
nnie had dashed upstairs again to put her bikini top back on, but she’d been incredibly fast about it. Prompt in a way that felt intentional. She was clearing the way for Sean to do whatever he needed to do. Annie was a hella cool girl.

Unfortunately, as soon as the back door shut behind her, Sean felt as closed in as if a barreled wave had slammed down on his head.

His hands curled into fists as he watched her walk down the back steps to the water. She perched a pair of sunglasses on her nose. Knockoffs. He wondered if he could switch them out without her noticing for a pair of the Heuers that had shown up on his doorstep a few weeks ago. Or more particularly, without her protesting too vehemently.

Probably not. She’d look good in the expensive frames, though.

Sean sighed and turned his gaze back toward the living room. He should get this over with.

Ackerman had seated himself on the couch and was waiting patiently with his elbows balanced on his knees. He hopped up with a smile as Sean reentered. “I appreciate this. I have to admit, I didn’t think you were going to give me an interview at all.”
He withdrew a slender silver recorder from his pocket. “Do you mind if I use this?”

“I mind.” Sean dropped into a chair and waved toward the sofa. “But you can sit again if you like. Make yourself at home. Comfortable, even.”

Ackerman sat, but he’d apparently realized this wasn’t going to be as easy a conversation as he’d momentarily convinced himself. “I see.”

Sean should have offered the guy a drink, even just a glass of water. That would have been polite. The thing a normal person would do.

Sean wasn’t normal. “Why are you here, Paul?”

“First off, let me say I’m really stoked that you seem to know who I am.” Paul had a nice, anonymous smile. “I’ve followed your career for a long time. You’re not getting half the points you should. It’s practically robbery.”

Flattery wasn’t going to get this guy anywhere. “That’s not an answer.”

“I want to do a sixty-minute feature on you.”

“Out of the goodness of your heart?” Sean lifted his eyebrows. “Out of nowhere? I’m middle of the pack. I do well enough, and I make enough, but a feature on me isn’t going to have any traction.” Not unless they knew too much.

Not unless it could get juicy.

If Ackerman had figured out what had really happened when Sean’s mother died, things could ratchet way past
juicy
to
scandalous
. Nothing sold better than a scandal. Sean’s fingertips tingled. This . . . This was not going to end well.

Ackerman tried changing the topic. “I was really surprised to find you at home in the middle of the
afternoon. Thought I’d have to camp out on your doorstep until you came in from the beach. Surf must not be up!” he said with a laugh.

Sean hooked his thumbs in his pockets and stretched his legs out. “Actually, it’s kicking out there. A storm off Hawaii will be pushing in six-footers in about an hour.”

“Have you been out yet today?”

This part, Sean had absolutely zero problem talking about. He put on one of his best smiles. “Yeah. Had my first postinjury surf this morning. Took a lot of warming up, but it’s been great.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Ackerman leaned forward. Brown hair fell across his forehead. “It’d be a real shame if you got knocked off the ’CT for something like this.”

“I’d agree.”

“I know this wasn’t the first time you were injured, but the damage seemed to be longer lasting. Was this time scarier?”

Sean took a long, slow breath. There wasn’t anything to it. He really was just doing his job, and for that alone, Sean should drink a big glass of shut-the-fuck-up. Except he knew where this conversation would finish eventually.

And yeah, it got there. Once Ackerman had exhausted his surfing and recovery questions, he eventually leaned back to rest against the soft couch. His gaze dropped, but then he looked back at Sean. Assessing.

Sean braced himself. The hard stuff was coming. Impatience rode him like a grom trying his first real
trick. The faster they got this over with, the faster Sean could shut him down.

“So,” Paul said, drawing the word out slowly, “I’ve done some preliminary research on you.”

“I expected as much.”

“I couldn’t find any proof that you’d graduated from your high school.”

“I’d rather not talk about that.”

Ackerman slipped a small black notebook from his back pocket and flipped it open. “We’re still talking a matter of record here, Sean.”

“Then check records. I’m not talking about it.” He was made of ice. Except ice would melt in the parts of the ocean he liked. “Look, I think I’ve proven over the last forty-five minutes that I’m amenable to giving interviews. That’s fine. But there’s no reason you need my past history. It’s just that. Past and history. Agree to leave them there and you can come back with a recorder. With a camera. Fucking hell, with
five
cameras if you want. I’ll let you tag me around.” Sean pushed to his feet. “But it’s all stuff of the here and now. I’m not going back.”

“Mr. Westin, I’m not trying to fuck you over. This isn’t going to be some hack-job piece.”

Sean plastered a smile on his face. “Then you won’t have any problem agreeing to my parameters.”

Ackerman stood to match Sean. His pleasant face pinched. “Look . . .” He sighed. “You’re not the only
source I can go to. I mean, you’re the best, of course. I’d
like
to get it right from you. But if you’re not willing to talk, I—I’ll do what I need to.”

“You’ve already got a source, don’t you?” Sean’s eyes narrowed at the same time something painful pulsed in his temple. “Who is it?”

Ackerman’s head shook. “Sorry. I can’t tell you.”

Immediately, Sean went mentally careening through the very, very short list of people who might know enough to give any sort of interview. His uncle Theo had been the one to clear up the arson charges and pay off the fire department for its outlay. But Theo was family, and he was pretty well-off too. There was no paycheck large enough to sway him. He’d never gotten married or had kids, so there was nothing in that direction. Sean’s mother had isolated herself because of the very nature of her disease. Nothing there. And Sean had never told a soul.

After all, when a person burned down his childhood home at age eighteen, it wasn’t something he went around bragging about.

“What you have is innuendo at best. Maybe some speculation.”

“I know you finished out school in a private institution, under your uncle’s custody.”

Sean flashed hot, then completely cold. His stomach lurched. That was supposed to be completely expunged, along with the record he had never quite gotten. It was all supposed to be cleared up. “Get out of my house. Now.”

“Talk with me, Sean. Let me have access and this doesn’t have to go painfully.”

“If you’re not gone in ten seconds, I’ll have to call the cops.”

Ackerman looked back at him steadily and for probably longer than five seconds, Sean wondered if the other man would try to call his bluff. Ackerman gave a small nod and let himself out.

Sean puked in the downstairs bathroom.

No dwelling. No looking back. His stomach was more settled after he managed to brush his teeth, so that was all that counted.

Doing what he had to do didn’t make him a bad person.

The litany was all that had gotten him through at first. When he’d been so damn young, and so damn scared.

Before he’d had the pro circuit and the World Championship Tour.

He wasn’t sure whether Annie would still be waiting for him. She could have gone around the outside of the house to her car, since her keys had been shoved in her pocket.

He stepped out the back door, trying to keep it cool. He scooped his sunglasses out of a pocket and popped them on against the arrowing glare of the setting sun.

“Over here.” Annie was sitting on the hot, powdery sand. “Did he bleed you dry?”

“Not this time.” And Jesus, when he spoke to her, his chest filled with that light feeling of relief. He hadn’t actually believed she’d still be there. Not when it came down to it. “Tried to.”

People weren’t there for him. Maybe they said
they would be, or maybe they intended to be, but when the shit hit the fan, Sean had learned that a man usually had to make his own way in the world and only rely on himself. He’d been damn good at it, at least.

He sank to the beach beside her. The waves really had started to kick, as the reports had said to expect. He couldn’t surf the current conditions, not yet. But he would, and soon. And he’d be back on top of his game.

He’d move forward. Not back.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a shady place like this?” He flashed a grin at Annie. It was a lie of a smile, but maybe she didn’t know that, because she cocked a grin at him with enough fire that it could have been used to light a seashore bonfire.

Her smile was the kind of thing used to call rescue ships to stranded boaters. She laughed at him. “Shady? Did you just call beachside at San Sebastian shady? This is probably the safest place in the world. Or close. Besides, I’m
always
protected.”

He chuckled. “Right. Could you take down a carjacker?”

“I’ve had some self-defense courses,” she said with such serene understatement that he suddenly wondered.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Martial arts?”

“I’m a black belt in judo.” She leaned back on her hands. “What do you think about that?”

“Hot as fuck. Come here.” He scooped a hand around the back of her neck and pulled her toward him. Closer and closer, but he stopped when his mouth was only an inch from hers. “Thanks for
staying. That really sucked.” It was an understatement, but it was all he could manage to say. At least for now, when his heart was still slamming with such sickly force.

“You know what doesn’t suck?” She’d twisted most of her hair up in a knot at the back of her head, but heavy tresses had broken free to frame her eyes and cheeks. Because making sure he had the space he needed had been more important than making herself look pretty. Even now, she was giving him that space by not asking him unanswerable questions.

It didn’t hurt that she was already gorgeous. And Sean couldn’t wrap his head around what she was willing to do for him. “What doesn’t suck?”

“Kissing me. You should do that. Often.” She lifted her mouth the full distance to his, and the kiss she placed on his lips was like a gift. Soft. Tender. Something they hadn’t shared before.

He returned it, making as many silent promises as he knew how to word.

It wasn’t much. He was too ruined to keep going long. But in the time between here and loss, she’d get everything he had to give.