Mission: Seduction (14 page)

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

R
AFE
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 proved 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.”

* * *

“
W
ELL
, 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.

“I'm sorry you didn't win today.” He squeezed her hand and she danced forward until he tugged her back.

“I'm not. I probably would have given up if you hadn't been there, and I would have missed one of the best waves of my career. And I scored the only tens of the day, so second looks pretty damn sweet. That Jaci didn't make the top ten has nothing to do with how happy I am right now.” It was mean and shallow, but Greg's expression had been priceless.

“Speaking of which, I talked to an Amanda Clarke from Baywear. She said they really want you.” Rafe waggled his brows playfully. He let go of her hand and slung his arm around her shoulder.

“What?” Blinking, she reached up to push a misbehaving strand of hair out of her eyes. “I assumed that deal was sunk after Greg dumped me.”

“Hmm. Maybe not.”

And there it was—that mischievous grin she loved so much. “What did you do?”

“Nothing. But the rumor is
you
dumped Greg, not the other way around. Seems that Baywear
really
sees you as their spokesmodel. You said that was something you wanted to do, and they've given you a week to think about that big contract.”

Rafe couldn't understand just how tempting that apple was to her. Or had been. She wasn't quite so sure that was what she wanted anymore.

Greg was right about one thing. While she did love Last Resort, she missed surfing competitively with her friends. Today had reminded her of why she wanted to surf in the first place.

She loved it.

Could she manage the resort and compete?

And where would that leave her with Rafe?

“I know. But it's a lot to figure out. The contract would be for a year or more. And I have to compete in a certain amount of meets each year.”

“Then negotiate for the time you are willing to give Baywear. I can help you with that. I happen to have a way with people.” He smiled. “Besides, I've got some tough decisions to make about what I want to do next. Maybe we can help each other out.”

Shock bolted through her. “What are you talking about?”

“I thought I was a career marine, but maybe there's something I'm meant to do that doesn't involve the corps. I'm healing, but it's slow going and I have a feeling this hip will always be a problem for me.”

“You're still early in the recovery process, Rafe. We need to get you back into yoga and Pilates. We can build your strength and flexibility.” She didn't want him to give up. He'd come so far.

“Sure and we can do that. But it's hard to do yoga with you if who knows where we are.”

The speculation in his voice confused her.
What is he saying?
She tried to sort through her emotions. “I have saltwater brain. I don't understand what you mean.”

“Hey, I've got a business degree, I'm good with money. You need a manager who has your best interests at heart and looks after you. I guess I'm applying for the job.”

Kelly frowned. Applying for the job? He wanted to be her manager? He wanted to stick around. But did he want her, or was it her career he was interested in?

“You're overthinking, Kelly.” His murmur tickled her ear. She stopped, tipping her head up to look at him.

“Why?”

“Why what?” He met her gaze evenly, a hint of a smile flirting around his wonderful lips.

“Why do you want to be my manager? I mean—it's flattering that you'd consider it and I love that you want to—” This wasn't coming out right.

“There will be a learning curve, but I'm up for the challenge. And I could assist you with this place if you need it, although you seem to handle it just fine. Don't you trust me?”

Did she trust him?

“Yes.” No hesitation, no retreat, she reminded herself. “What I don't want—”

He stopped and faced her, his expression intense. “What don't you want, Kelly?”

“I don't want to be only business partners. Call me demanding, but I can hire anyone to be my manager. Okay, well, not anyone, but you're my—” What was he? Was he a boyfriend? Her lover? What title did he have?

“Yes, I am yours. And as they say in business, we can definitely negotiate satisfying terms.”

He was teasing her. “Mean.”

He quickly leaned in and captured her lips in a long, slow, toe-curling kiss. His tongue stroked hers and his hands gently caressed her back and slid down to her hips. She had no idea how long they stood there, just wrapped around each other—kissing.

But, damn, the man knew how to kiss.

After several moments, he broke the embrace and looked at her. “I do want to be your manager and I stand by that offer. But I'm a greedy man, Kelly. I'm going to want a lot more than just your business interests.”

A slow smile spread across her face. “Let's negotiate.”

* * *

S
HE
COULD
GET
used to waking up to the pleasant ache in her limbs. Stretching her arms out, Kelly inhaled the breeze blowing gently through the windows and the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee. The only thing missing was Rafe. Sitting up, she saw the folded piece of paper on his pillow: “Gone to town. Be back by lunch. Save me a wave. R.”

She buried her face in his pillow and reveled in the distinct, masculine scent of him. Okay, so she had to wait until lunch to see him. With so many guests, she had a great deal to accomplish before he returned. One glance at the clock and she was up and running.