Ahead in the Heat (9 page)

T
he problem with firing Sean as a client was that it left Annie with no ready excuses for seeing or talking to him. She had to admit to herself that she simply
wanted
to see him. To hear his voice. They spent hours on the phone—until late—simply because they had been goofing around. The phone pressed to her cheek had become warm at the edges. “The Beatles or the Stones. It’s not like choosing a thesis statement.”

“I didn’t go to college. Don’t you use them fancy thesis thingies on me.”

She was lying in her bed, her head piled on three pillows and her feet propped up on two more. Twirling the fringe on a pale blue afghan, she stared up at the ceiling and pictured Sean’s face. So handsome. He verged on beautiful, but it was the sharpness to his features that drew her. When they’d said good-bye three days ago, he’d kissed her on both cheeks with the aplomb of a world traveler. She’d rolled her eyes at his put-on sophistication, especially since minutes earlier he’d been licking taco drippings from the side of his hand.

He was . . . complicated.

“Yeah right.” She made a scoff noise in the back of her throat. “You’re not dumb.”

There was a moment that drew out like taffy, and all of a sudden she regretted that she couldn’t see his face. There were a lot of hints she read in those sharp blue eyes and in the hold of his mouth. The scruffy beard didn’t hide the way the muscle in front of his ear jumped when he was displeased. “No, really, Annie. I didn’t go to college at all.”

“Oh.” On one level, she had to have realized that. The trajectory of his career meant that he wouldn’t have had time to go in the traditional way. But he’d been surfing on the circuit for around eight years. “You didn’t go online or anything?”

“Didn’t need to. I’ve got an excellent manager, and I’ve built what I need to.”

She scrunched her eyes shut. He’d certainly made plenty of money, hadn’t he? And she wouldn’t have gone to college either if Terry had organized her career the way he’d wanted. “I didn’t mean to sound like I was judging or something. It’s just how smart you are. I assumed.”

“I figure I’ll go when I have more time. After I’ve won a championship and I’ve retired from the circuit.” His chuckle came through as clearly as if he’d been sitting right next to her. Her breasts tightened and tingles lanced her nipples at the sound of it. “It’s a little hard to manage a pro career and an academic career at the same time.”

“I bet.” She sat up and pulled her knees to her chest. “But still, I think your inability to decide between the Stones and the Beatles speaks to a significant drawback in your personality.”

“Is that right?” He paused for a beat, and then she heard his voice drop into a purr that did wicked,
melty things to her insides. “What are you wearing?” He’d said he was sitting on his back patio while they talked, watching the dark waves roll in.

“A tank top and panties.” Heat flashed across her cheeks. Thank God she was alone in her room, because her blush was incendiary.

“What’s on the tank top?”

“On?” She shook her head, suddenly confused. “There’s nothing on it. It’s just white.”

“Damn,” he muttered with another little laugh. “I had a bet with myself whether it’d be a comic book reference or a television show.”

She jumped, clapping her hand over the front of her panties, as if he could see through her cell phone. But she must have made an involuntary squeak, because he pounced. “What? What is it? Is the tank top modeled on a show or something?”

Well technically, she did have tanks that were designed in the layered look of
Battlestar Galactica
, but she actually wasn’t wearing those. “No. It’s nothing. There’s nothing on my shirt.” She was talking too fast, the words coming out in a clatter.

“Nothing on your shirt,” Sean repeated. She could practically see his eyes narrowing, see him edging forward. He’d put his elbows on his knees and lean into her. “That leaves your panties. What’s on your panties, Annie?”

She shook her head frantically, only to realize he couldn’t actually see her. She clapped her arm over her eyes. Hidden in the dark, she was tempted to tell him. “Nothing.”

“Annie. Please.”

She squeezed her arm tighter over her eyes, but
then she was laughing. “I can’t fucking believe I’m going to tell you this.”

He laughed too, almost in solidarity. “Come on. Tell me. You know you want to.”

“I’m the biggest sucker in the world.”

“You should tell me, and you should come to the beach tomorrow with me. The new therapist said I was cleared. Gotta keep to relatively small waves, but I can give the shoulder a try.”

She stopped laughing as suddenly as if the air had been sucked out of the room and out of her lungs with it. She sat upright. “Define what you’ll expect from me at the beach.”

“You’ll come to my house, and then we’ll go all the way into the water.” There was a pause, and then something that sounded like Sean clearing his throat, except that would mean he was sort of nervous. “And I’ll have a board waiting for you.”

“Sean . . .” She drew his name into something more than only a name. Asking him not to do this to her, maybe. Except that wasn’t all of it. She was tempted; she had to admit it. It had been almost six years since she’d been surfing.

She’d always thought she was happy with skateboarding. It gave her the rush, and it involved her whole body. The tricks she’d learned were epic, considering that she’d taken up skateboarding only after she’d given up surfing.

Seeing the ocean every time she went to Sean’s house was wearing on her, though. To be so close without actually being in it . . . She was starting to crave the salt water.

“Okay, let’s start small.” Sean’s voice slayed her. He was so intense. “Tell me about the panties.”

“They’re thin white boy-cut, with a little Xbox 360 emblem, and they say ‘achievement locked.’” Telling him about the panties did really seem minor compared to the taunting, tempting idea of surfing again. “Gaming reference, not comics or TV. So both sides of you lose.”

“Fuck no. I get to picture you in your panties. Neither side of me loses.”

“Are you going to think about me later? With your hand on yourself?” She was desperate to think of anything but the idea of going back to the ocean. Once it got ahold of her, she probably wouldn’t be able to walk away again. Maybe that wouldn’t be a bad thing. She didn’t have to be involved in the pro world just to be able to go surfing again. There were tens of thousands of people all over the world who surfed regularly and didn’t even read surfing magazines.

He saw right through her. “Come to the beach. I’m not going to pick you up and put you on a board or anything. Just waves and water. It’s supposed to be above eighty. Pretty warm.”

The first really warm day of spring, heralding the coming summer. Spending it at the beach would be just the thing. Not an expectation in and of itself. And he was right. It wasn’t like anyone could actually
force
her to surf. “Yeah. I’ll go.”

“Wonderful,” he purred. “It’s a date.”

*   *   *

So he’d talked her into another date. She suddenly didn’t like calling them that. Why did they have to put names on what was going on? They were grown adults, almost thirty. It wasn’t like their dates were to the school dance or anywhere dumb.

Instead, she was waiting for him at the edge of the beach, where the scrub plants gave way to sand, and she was wearing a swimsuit.

She put her hands flat over her bare stomach. The bikini had come from the back of her drawer, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d put it on. Maybe two years ago for a picnic with her drop-in kids? She had managed to avoid going in the water that day. It hadn’t been that hard, since she’d volunteered for the volleyball tournament. No mess, no fuss, and she got to keep the ocean in her peripheral vision.

She was an idiot. A full-blown idiot. She was throwing so much of herself up in the air for this man, and it was only going to be a temporary thing. There would be no happily ever after for them. It was one thing to agree to a single afternoon at the beach, but she’d stayed away from the ocean for reasons—important reasons.

Drawing a deep, burning breath into her lungs, she intentionally turned to look at the water. In Southern California, the water always kept a green
tint. That was due to the depth and the temperature of the water, and the accumulated masses of beings that lived and existed in the ocean. Being out there in the water was like touching an alien world. Surfing was like conquering that world.

Which, in the end, was why she was here after all. Sean might have issued the invitation, but he hadn’t thrown her over his shoulder. He hadn’t forced her into anything, because she was a grown woman in complete control of her mouth. She had to admit she wanted that rush back. She wanted to know if she could have it pure and free of all the rest of the bullshit of the pro world.

“If you wanted to body surf, I’d really, really try not to think too badly of you.”

Annie jumped, her hand flying to the base of her throat as she spun. “Jesus, Sean. I didn’t hear you come up.”

He shrugged, but the gesture was contained by the two boards he had hooked under one arm. With careful movements he stretched out his bad arm, then moved it farther as no pain registered on his face. “It’s the sand. Hid my steps.”

“Duh.” She winced. She hadn’t meant for that to come out so harshly. “I mean, yeah. I’m sure that’s right.”

“Come on, sugar,” he said, striding out past her onto the white expanse of sand and toward the water. “Let’s stake out some land before it gets too crowded.”

“It’s a Thursday afternoon. Shouldn’t be too bad.”

“Perks of being self-employed.” He had a
gorgeous grin usually, but now it was ridiculous. He was so energized, in a way she hadn’t seen in him before.

The board he presented was perfect for her. Plain white with the classic “. . . lost” logo in the center, it was under six feet and had the usual deep V-tail of a fish. Her hand lifted on its own. The bottom was slick and glassy, in perfect shape. The top had been waxed to perfection. Its bumpy pattern was familiar under her fingertips. Sean stood there patiently, not saying anything while she petted a surfboard.

Something stung the back of her eyes. “I used to have one just like this.”

“I’m not surprised,” he said. His words were businesslike, but his eyes were shining with compassion. “The RNF 5 is a really traditional model. It’s been around more than twenty years.”

“Is that new wax?” She traced the pattern.

“Did it last night. Didn’t want you to have any excuse to pass. Warmed up my shoulder for the evening too.”

“Diagonal crosshatch—isn’t that fancy.” Her smile felt wistful. “I used to do straight ups and downs.”

“Everyone’s got their own style.”

She bit her bottom lip, looking up at him. He wasn’t pushing. He wasn’t insisting she should do it. He’d only presented her with the perfect board. Years ago, she’d slowly sold her boards one by one, as she left her past behind her. For a little while, she’d thought maybe she’d surf again, so she’d kept her RNF 5. Then it gathered dust in her garage and made her sad every time she’d seen it, and she’d
assumed she was done with that part of her life. So she’d sold it on eBay.

She took the board from him and stood it on its pins. Looked past it to the water. This was . . . her. Part of her. If she could use Sean to reclaim the sexual part of herself she’d thought long dead, then she could do this too.

More than just do it. She could kick ass at this. The surf was small, only a few feet, but she’d once been damn good. She might be out of practice, but she sure as heck wasn’t out of shape.

She gave a little nod. Her cheeks tightened against the grin that wanted to come out. And then, fuck it, why shouldn’t she smile? This was going to be awesome.

Tucking the board under one arm, she walked out into the cold, crisp water.

The welcoming ocean took her back with arms wide.

S
ean had put a worrisome amount of time into wondering if Annie would still be a decent surfer. He hadn’t wanted to embarrass her if she wasn’t. He’d wanted to be able to give her back the thing for which she’d been longing. He didn’t think it was too egotistical of him to think he knew what she wanted. It wasn’t as if she’d been particularly surreptitious about it, nor had he been spookily observant.

She’d stared at the water from his back deck with longing apparent in her eyes. You could even call it desire. She had that look a woman got where her mouth went slack and her eyes went needy.

There was no reason to look like that when it had something to do with the water. Not in California, when the ocean was what made the state bright and great, and people came from all over the world to be in it.

Sean had surfed the world. Washed out more sand from his shorts than he’d ever had bits of sense. When it came to getting back in the water after his injury, there was nowhere he’d rather be than San Sebastian. It was home. It was the place that had washed all his problems away the first time around. The movement of the ocean was subtle this
afternoon, but that was half of San Sebastian’s appeal—its wide range of conditions.

Today was perfect for testing out his recovery.

She waded out into the water, diving in when it got deeper than her hips.

Sean followed closely behind. She’d worn only a bikini top and board shorts, so he got to watch the pale expanse of her back shift with every swim stroke. “Did you put on sunscreen?”

She paused long enough to shoot him a completely perplexed look over her shoulder. Her hair was already soaked and plastered to her forehead. She’d worn most of it in a ponytail that had turned small and scraggly in the water. “Wasn’t born yesterday, Westin. Why?”

“Because I like your skin.” He let every bit of his intent and desire for her shine through his eyes. “I’d like to lick every inch of you, and I can’t do that if you’re sunburned.”

Her breasts lifted on a fast inhale. Bright red slashed over her cheeks to her ears. “Yeah. Okay. I can work with that.”

She dove headfirst into the water, disappearing under a wave break, only to pop up again on the other side. Sean followed close behind.

The water was cold, the way it usually was this early in the season. Most of the surfers in the lineups had skipped wet suits, though one or two had on shorty versions.

“Hey, mate,” said Nate Coker, sitting on a board and floating with the bob of the ocean. “Good to see you out.”

“Just got cleared,” Sean answered with a wave of his good arm. “You remember Annie, right?”

“Sure.” Nate nodded toward her. “Gloria was talking about you after we met the other night.”

“Was she really?” Sean lifted his eyebrows. He knew Gloria and knew the tendency she had to tear other women down. It was her default mode.

Nate had the good grace to look chagrined. “She goes on a bit. Said she had no idea how Sean managed to hire you for his therapy.”

Annie had easily mounted her board. She was sitting spread-legged on it, hands planted between her knees. The black bikini had metallic squares at the top hem, giving it an almost punk-rock look. But her board shorts were dark red, and all Sean wanted to do was pull them down her legs. From there, things could go whichever direction they liked. He just appreciated Annie naked.

She cast an easy smile toward Nate. “Technically, I’ve released Sean from my care anyway, but I don’t usually work with surfers.”

“That’s what Gloria said. She’s done reams of research the last few days on you. Says you’re the best, and Sean must have worked some kind of black magic voodoo to get you to work with him.” Nate’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “When I tell her you were actually surfing, she’s gonna have a coronary. Says you ain’t done it in years.”

“She’d be right.”

“Dude, your girlfriend sounds like she’s becoming a private eye.” Sean shifted back on his ass, but not too far, so that the board didn’t go flying out from under him. He usually didn’t even have to
think about balance in that way, but it had been four whole weeks since he’d been in the water, and his shoulder was still sending up occasional twinges to remind him that movement on the ocean wasn’t like movement anywhere else in the world. He didn’t want to make an ass of himself in front of anyone, but not in front of Annie most particularly. “She needs a chill pill.”

Nate shrugged. “She’s intense sometimes, but she means well.”

Sean had his own opinions about that, but the chick wasn’t his girlfriend anymore. There was a hell of a reason for that. He much preferred Annie’s laid-back style, the way she was subtly full of nudging. Gloria supervised Nate’s manager to the point of micromanaging. Annie would never even dream of doing that; Sean was sure of it. “How much does she expect out of you this year? She realizes the championship isn’t magically up for grabs just because Tanner retired, right? You’re in tenth, and once I’m back on the circuit, I’ll be launching right past you.”

“You sure about that one?” Nate arrowed a deliberate look at Sean’s shoulder. “You clear enough to surf competition? The heats are harder than fucking about on a Thursday afternoon. I leave for Fiji tomorrow. Last I heard, you were sitting that one out.”

Sean bared his teeth. “I’ll be there, Coker. Don’t worry about me. But here’s the thing—even if I wasn’t going to be there, I’d still eat you up in the points once I did show up. That’s what matters.”

“If you say so.” Nate seemed pretty relaxed a lot of the time, but half of it was an act. He was a hard
driver. Someone who meant to make it to the top, and he’d only been on the ’CT for two years.

“Gentlemen, stand down,” Annie said. “One more exchange and I’m going to have to insist you guys meet for pistols at dawn. I’m here to catch my first wave in years, and I don’t want to be distracted.”

“You win,” Sean agreed. Even the ocean was behaving. He could feel the water drawing back, preparing for a new set of waves to pour in. The surge and give was subtly heart-stopping. He loved it, every time. “The next set’s coming too.”

“I know,” she said dryly. “It’s been a while, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten every scrap I knew.”

He flicked water at her, just to watch her dark lashes flutter. She wasn’t normally the fluttering type. “Excuse me for trying to help out.”

“You can help out by watching my spot in the lineup.”

“You’re good if you wanna go next,” Nate provided.

A few words down the lineup cleared the way through those waiting. They’d stretched out the length of the right-breaking wave, but since they liked seeing women surf, they let Annie go. For some of them, it came from a sexist, watch-the-ass kind of place, but for Sean and plenty of others, they moved back for women because there ought to be more of them in the surfing world.

He’d always figured surfing was an equal-opportunity sport. If he’d been able to rely on it as a scrawny, desperate teenager who was underfed half
the time, then anyone could do it. While women surfers had a little less power, they usually made up for it in artistry. Sean didn’t know why the women’s section of the World Championship Tour wasn’t better funded. They made less than twenty percent the prize money Sean and his buddies did on the regular ’CT.

Because as soon as she paddled out with the wave, Sean knew this was going to be a treat. Something gorgeous to watch. Her strokes were perfectly smooth despite it having been years since she’d employed them, reaching for the shore as if she were slicing into first in a swim competition.

“Right on!” Sean yelled.

Nate cheered too, as did a spatter of other surfers.

The wave was going to be a good one. He could tell by the way the water pulled and rushed, the way Annie and her board were snatched up by the force. She was there at the crest of the wave and popped up first to her knees. She balanced, shaky for a second—and Sean wondered if she’d stop there. Or even fall, maybe.

Sean almost cursed himself in that second. It was asking a fucking lot of her to expect her to be awesome on her first go. She hadn’t even warmed up, not really.

But somehow, he had known what was coming. He had known she’d be amazing.

She hopped to her feet a half second later. Her hands balanced at her hips for a heartbeat, but then she lowered into it. Her knees bent. Her ass tipped back as she offset her weight.

But he hadn’t expected Annie to be a goddess in the water.

Diana, probably. The one who held a bow and went for blood, because damn did Annie look determined.

Sean smacked the surface of the water with an open palm, sending up a celebratory splash. “Fuck yeah!”

She didn’t try for anything too fancy. Her board slipped across the front of the wave in a dropping arc, her waist and shoulders dropping out of view as Sean remained behind the wave, while she owned it.

Sean paddled after her during the very next wave, not wanting to miss the aftermath. He wanted to ride it as a matter of course, since surfing had always been as easy as breathing and because he could already see her onshore. She’d dropped her board to the sand and was standing facing the ocean. Her hands were stacked behind her head, her elbows pointed up toward the sky, and he couldn’t quite tell what her expression was. His stomach clenched. Had he fucked up, bringing her here?

Maybe he’d let himself get carried away on a hard shot of ego. Rising to his feet on the board was harder than he expected. As he balanced himself and hopped up, his shoulder twinged at holding half his body weight. He barely had control of his own life, considering the rumors and accusations he was facing. It was asking entirely too much to think that he
could show Annie what she’d been missing out on in a single afternoon.

As soon as he balanced on his flat feet, riding the wave like he’d been made for it, he breathed easier. A knot released from the base of his neck. His shoulders were tight, held firmly, but it wasn’t more than he could deal with. The pain itself was a subtle warmth that edged him toward a wince. Nothing compared to where he had been.

When he got there, she was laughing. Her face pointed toward the bright sun, her ribs in stark relief. Laughter fell from her like a strand of pearls. Her joy lit her expression, opening her eyes. “Holy shit, that was awesome.”

“Yeah? It was good?” He dropped his own board to the sand without even looking to make sure he’d aimed the wax up. Because fuck, he couldn’t resist touching her.

Her skin was hot beneath the sheen of chilled ocean water that still clung to her. She was trembling under the surface. Holding his hands at either side of her waist was like containing fire within his palms. She was light. She was
lightning
.

“In my head, I know I’ve had better rides. Better waves.” She shook her head, flicking away water from her ponytail. Her lashes looked even darker than normal. “But right now, from right here . . . God, I’m not sure any of them matter.”

He spread his fingers across her bare waist. The sun shone on them, quickly warming her skin. Or maybe that was her from the inside out.

He kissed her. There was no way he could look at that beaming smile and not know what it tasted like.

The answer was salt and sugar. She pushed up into his kiss, rising on her toes. Her breasts brushed his chest, wet on wet, and her arms locked around the back of his neck. She didn’t weigh much, but even that slight weight drew her close. He could feel each tender ridge of her spine under his fingertips.

She broke away, then traced openmouthed attention down his throat. He managed to hold back his pleasure-spawned shiver, but goddamn, it was a close call. Her fingers dug into the tops of his shoulders, and she made a little noise in the back of her throat. “You’re going to take me inside later, Sean. And we’re going to make each other feel really damn good.”

“But not yet?”

She shook her head without moving her face from his skin. “Nope. Not yet.” She drew back far enough that he could see her liquid-fire smile. “I need something else first.”

“You need to surf.”

“You got it.” Her smile faltered for half a second. “Do you mind?”

“Why the hell would I?”

Her gaze darted back out to the water, past his shoulder. Something knotted between her brows, two little lines that he smoothed away with his thumb. “Gee,
I wanna bang you, but I wanna go surf first
. Some guys would be pissed at hearing that.”

He laughed, because he couldn’t help it, then locked his arm low around her back and lifted. “Those guys would be idiots if they didn’t recognize what I just saw.”

“What’s that?”

“You’re gorgeous out there, Annie. You’re beautiful everywhere, but this time I’m going to sit onshore for a few minutes and watch your next couple waves, because on the water . . .” He paused for a moment, nuzzling aside damp hair from her cheek while he thought. “On the water, you’re more than beautiful. You light up from the inside out. You’re . . . incandescent.”