Mission: Seduction (13 page)

“All done?” he asked with a chuckle and only a mild amount of disappointment in his voice.

“Hmm. Nope.”

Nudging her aside, he stepped into the shower with her. He found the shampoo and squeezed some into his palm. “Everything okay outside?”

“So far. Just a lot of rain and noise.”

He showered so much more efficiently than she did. His hair was scrubbed and rinsed in under a minute. She loved watching him. Every move was so precise.

“Anything we need to do? Family members to separate? No chefs to play guitar for? No Pilates to teach?”

“Nope.” She shook her head slowly.

“Nothing for the rest of the day?”

“Not until the new guests arrive tonight. It's raining,” she said coyly. “So you know what that means?”

He grinned. “What?”

“We have to play inside games.” She turned all the jets on in the shower.

Rafe pressed her against the wall.

“I really like inside games,” he said as his lips met hers.

Me, too.

16

S
ATURDAY
MORNING
DAWNED
with a blissfully perfect blue sky and strong, steady waves. Rafe sat on the beach, enjoying the cool breeze and warm sunshine. Fijians and tourists alike spilled out in noisy ones and twos up and down the beach. Rafe learned that the surf meet had brought in more than ninety-six surfers from around the world and six wild cards. Placards and signs with names like Logi, Bryson and Smith meant little to Rafe, but he wasn't remotely surprised to see a Kelly Callahan banner.

Luckily the beaches were washed clean and smooth. Very little debris remained on the pristine sand, cluttered now by a profusion of surfboards, umbrellas and surfers who could double as swimsuit models. It was as if the storm hadn't happened. The swells and peaks were farther from the shore than he liked. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, when he saw Kelly's pink board cut left and then she was on her feet, riding the huge wave.

It never failed to take his breath away. When she'd bounced out of bed and into her bikini that morning, she'd vibrated with energy. Her bright eyes danced with suppressed laughter and she dashed back and forth, warming up, stretching out and surprising him with kisses at every turn. He'd quickly gotten himself ready and followed her out to the beach.

For three blissful days, they'd made love, shared meals, and he'd watched her practice. The practice left him torn between awe and terror. She could execute aerial maneuvers, cutting off the top of the wave and coming back in. The first tube ride she took he was up and on his feet and at the water's edge without realizing he'd moved.

She wasn't just a good surfer. She was a stunning athlete. She rode the waves as if she owned them. He rather enjoyed the fact that avoiding her parents meant she stayed in his bungalow. Every night they sprawled on the sand and talked for hours. Lots of things he liked to do with women, but just talking hadn't been high on his list.

Before Kelly.

Everything seemed to come down to that term. Before Kelly. The first heats were due to start in an hour. A lot of surfers were out on the waves, like Kelly, warming up. He checked the pack of supplies she'd insisted on bringing, including fresh wax and her wax comb.

As she came into the shallow water, her expression radiated triumph and he jerked his thumb up. She waded in toward him, board tucked securely under her arm. The satisfied smile on her face couldn't have been more deserved.

He pulled a bottle of water out of the cooler and unscrewed the cap for her. When he looked up, she was standing on the shore.

Talking to Greg.

His gaze narrowed, but he waited. Greg was her manager and ex. Emphasis on the
ex.
He was probably giving her tips on her performance—not that she needed any. Or maybe he was confirming her schedule. Rafe's toes flexed against the sand. It took real effort to stay put and not walk down there to hear what they were discussing.

Greg shifted to the left, revealing Kelly's furious expression.
The hell with waiting.

Long strides carried him toward her, but Greg took off at a lazy jog before Rafe could get there, leaving Kelly to stare after the jerk.

“Hey.” Rafe touched her arm. “Everything okay?”

“Great.” It sounded anything but.

“What did he do?” He tossed a look after Greg. He wasn't far enough away that even with his bum leg Rafe couldn't catch him and drag him back for an apology if need be.

“Doesn't matter.” Kelly didn't quite look at him as she began to make her way over to their spot. The smile had vanished from her face and her shoulders were slumped forward.

“Kelly, babe?” He fell into step beside her. “How many pieces do you want his leg broken into?”

She shook her head and the streak of tears on her cheeks left him incensed. Just what had Greg said to her?

“I should have expected it.” Her hands shook as she set the end of her board into the sand. She dashed a towel against her face, scrubbing away the evidence of her tears.

“Expected what?” He kept his words quiet and direct. He needed clear intel so he could handle the situation.

“Greg quit. He's representing Jaci Smith now. She's ranked number three, a real contender and her career is going places.” Her voice cracked in the middle. “And it's stupid to be upset about it. I mean Greg and I, we weren't really working together. I'm not as invested as he wants me to be and I won't let him sell Last Resort or lock me up in contracts. And he's been calling for the last few days to tell me, but I wouldn't answer his calls. He wanted to be fair and let me know as soon as possible, but his timing sucks. Now he tells me?”

She paused, hands on her hips.

“Basically, I refused to do what he thinks is best, so he dumped me for some chick who fauns all over him. I've got to go grab my number and sign in because Greg didn't do it.”

Kelly took off before he could say a word. He clenched his fists. The jerk could have dropped this news on her after the meet, or even in the three days prior he could have come by the resort or found another way to contact her. He'd had no problem showing up here before.

No, he'd waited until she had to compete.

Bastard
.

Rafe would make it right. No one messed with his Kelly.

* * *

A
FTER
FILLING
OUT
her paperwork, Kelly checked in with the coordinators. Driving the negativity of the past twenty minutes out of her mind, she forced herself to focus. Greg had done this on purpose to throw her off balance. But his mind games no longer worked on her. She had Rafe. Her rock. And nothing else mattered.

She accepted her number with a wan smile and headed back to her board. She would be in the second heat. She preferred the third or fourth. That gave her time to watch the waves. The storm should have gentled the waters, but another squall a few hundred miles out was creating super peaks and swells.

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 these 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.