Making Waves: A Perfect Kisses Novella (3 page)

Chapter Three

Even after several hours, Justine was still having trouble processing this new info. Not in a million years would she have suspected the Will Davenport she’d known in L.A. was the same guy she was looking at now—trying not to gawk at now, if she was being honest.

Yes, he was smokin’ hot, but was that enough reason to go all gooey? A year ago, she’d been frustrated by his restrained personality, and now he was a
surfer
…meaning he spent countless hours in the water. A familiar shiver raced up her spine, pinching off her breath. Obviously that was another reason she could never be with him, not after what happened to Anna. The thought of Will being hurt in the water…

Enough, Juss
, she scolded herself
. You’re here to work—to observe Chase Ryder, not obsess over Will
.

She didn’t know much about surfing competitions, but she did grasp that the idea was to stay on the board for as long as possible. And she guessed the size of the waves played a factor. Although every wave looked enormous to her. Will—or Chase Ryder, rather—got the loudest cheers, but she didn’t know if that was because he was doing well or because he was the fan favorite.

He was definitely
her
favorite. The way he sailed over the crests, water spraying up behind him as he cut across the waves. His legs and abs were surely uber-toned and rock-hard to keep him upright like that. She hadn’t been to the beach in so long, let alone to watch anyone surf. It was a little breathtaking how sexy it was. Or maybe…how sexy Will was.

After a while, she got caught up in the excitement and was cheering along with the rest of the audience gathered on the beach and lining the tops of the sand dunes behind her.

According to the boards, Will took second place in his first round, having scored high points due to one particularly ginormous wave. The final heat was next. Justine held her breath as three surfers hit the same wave. The thing was massive—at least five stories high—and she could’ve sworn it looked like it was chasing them. She squinted into the sun, straining to find the exceptionally built surfer on the red board, wearing black trunks and a dark blue Quicksilver wetsuit shirt.

She spotted Will in the middle of the other two. The one above him flipped, his body and board flying over the peak of the wave, disappearing inside the thirty-foot wall of foam. A moment later, the other surfer slowed, fell behind, and then seemed to be swallowed by the angry white water.

It was just Will now.

Out there. In the crashing, murderous, unforgiving waves.

Images of worst-case scenarios flashed through her mind like a horror movie. Suddenly, her heart was pounding so hard it actually rattled her teeth. The desire to scream Will’s name into the wind, to warn him of danger, squeezed her around the throat. Her feet felt stuck in the sand, paralyzed and helpless as her hands pressed against her hammering heart.

The person next to her knocked against her shoulder, snapping Justine out of the nightmare. Another sudden eruption from the crowd had her zeroing in on Will again. He looked fine, still upright on his board, perfectly safe. In fact…

As he cruised the rest of the way in, arms overhead, the crowd exploded in even louder cheers. Justine couldn’t help laughing, relief mixed with excitement at his evident success and obvious safety.

Will trotted to shore, a huge, animated smile on his face. Had he smiled like that when she knew him before? Had it made her toes curl like right now? She felt the urge to break from the crowd and hurdle the rope barricade just to be near him.

But she controlled herself, because: A) She had no right to do that; she wasn’t “with” Will, she’d never been “with” Will.; B) She couldn’t allow herself to trust him again. Hadn’t she learned her lesson? And C) She could not get that close to the water. Seeing it at a distance was one thing, but the thought of dipping in even one toe made her bite back another scream.

She couldn’t help watching as Will was swarmed by other guys in wetsuits. Here she was in a literal marine paradise and she was terrified at the idea of swimming, terrified even that Will was in the water.

You shouldn’t care about him in that way
, she reminded herself. She had once and ended up with a broken heart and a huge gap in her memory. Note to self to never drink that much again.

But damn is Will hot,
she added, noting his curly, wet hair.
So dang hot
.

While being ushered toward the makeshift stage, Will came up to the barricade where fans lined up behind the rope, extending their hands. Like a rock star, he slapped each hand with a high five while working his way down the line, soaking wet and grinning and just about the sexiest thing she’d ever seen.

As he came closer, the crowd behind Justine started to push, forcing her right to the rope. Will was only a few people away now. Was she supposed to slap him a caveman high five like everyone else? Should she slide back and let one of his real fans take her place? The closer he got—the closer his curly wet hair and sexy smile got—she didn’t feel like giving him a high five as congratulation; she felt like giving him a hug…at the
very
least. But how inappropriate would that be?

There wasn’t much choice in the matter, anyway. She was shoved up to the rope and was about to receive the next high five when Will stopped right in front of her, his brown eyes locking on hers. He reached out, but not to slap her palm. Instead, his hand cupped her cheek, then slid behind her neck, pulling her toward him.

His firm lips crashing over hers sent a shockwave of heat from her mouth to her cheeks then out her fingers. Will’s other hand slid under her hair, holding her face in place. She stumbled forward, searching for some part of him to hold onto. Her hands found his sides, the slippery material of his wetsuit sopping wet and slick, but she could feel the hard muscles beneath, and she clamped around them. She could also feel the rope barricade cutting into her stomach as she pressed her body to his.

She adjusted to part her lips, wanting to breathe him in further, get a better taste of that sweetness on his tongue. But it was over. With his hands still holding her face, Will slowly pulled back and looked into her eyes. She couldn’t read the message he was trying to shoot her because it was over so fast, and the next thing she knew, he’d moved down the line.

The palms of her hands were tingling and wet from holding his sides, her lips still vibrated, the sharp, addictive taste of Will and the sea lingering on her tongue. She stared at his back as he continued slapping high fives on his way to the stage.

She put a hand over her mouth and one over her heart that had not slowed down. The front of her dress was damp from where she’d pressed herself flat against his body. Her head screamed with alarm and confusion while the silly flutter in her stomach made her want to giggle. When she lowered her hands, she noticed everyone around her was staring. Some even had phones out, taking pictures. Of her.

“So, you know Chase?” a woman in a pink string bikini asked.

Heat of embarrassment rose to her cheeks, and the question didn’t help. Was Will renowned for kissing random women on the sidelines on a regular basis?

“Um, yeah,” Justine said, still fighting against that strange sensation to giggle.

“How?” another woman in a similarly tiny bikini queried.

Justine suddenly felt the fattening effects of the four fish tacos she’d had for dinner last night—right on her hips. She was about to reply, but remembered she’d promised not to say anything yet. Besides, what would she tell them?

“Oh just, ya know”—she shrugged vaguely and twirled some hair around a finger—“from around.”

Jeez, was she trying to appear like an airhead or a hussy?

“Oh,” the first girl said. She was all tan and perfect and beachy looking. Justine had never had body image issues, but standing in the middle of, like, a hundred surfer babes, she felt pretty unspectacular in her damp sundress and flip-flops.

Getting back to work and ignoring the gawkers was the logical remedy. So while the results were announced, she jotted more notes, also trying to ignore the salt coating her lips, or the phantom feel of Will’s strong hands under her hair, the sunny smell of his skin.

Chase Ryder didn’t win the Eddie, but he got an award—she would ask him about it later—and an extra ovation. It was obvious he was beloved among this group, and she wondered why he’d retired. Will couldn’t have been older than twenty-seven. Was that the age when most competitive surfers were sent to pasture? She jotted that down, too, so she wouldn’t forget to ask. After all, he’d only promised her an hour.

There were more autographs to have and fists to bump, and Will seemed to be enjoying it.
This might take a while
. So, Justine talked to some of the officials and judges, getting other personal stories about the Eddie. It surprised her when Will broke from the crowd and strolled over, shaking hands along the way.

“Hey,” he said, wearing that same sexy smile that made her want to kiss him again. His hair was still damp, causing the longer ends on top to stand up in tall curls. Under the afternoon sunshine, his brown eyes looked the same golden color as the sand.

“Hey,” she replied, not knowing how to be professional (re:
not
attracted to this guy),
and
be a woman with a pulse at the same time. “Um, congratulations.”

“Thanks.” He chuckled under his breath and looked down at the sand. “Sorry about…before.” Slowly, he met her eyes. “I got caught up in the moment.”

The flutter in her stomach stilled, replaced with disappointment and quite a bit of anger at herself. Had one kiss almost made her forget the past?

“No problem,” she said, waving a hand through the air. “Caught up in the moment”—she pressed her lips together—“yeah, totally. Me, too.”

Okay, now she kind of wanted to die. She’d been expecting to interview Chase Ryder but ended up kissing Will Davenport—the guy who broke her heart by disappearing without a word. Gah! But that kiss was by far the sexiest, most spontaneous kiss she’d ever had. Every time she looked at him, it was like her fingers and lips twitched, wanting to touch him again.

Yet the kiss had meant nothing to Will.

Hmm, so obviously what happened a year ago wasn’t an isolated incident. Love ‘em and leave ‘em. He hasn’t changed at bit. Duly noted.

She swallowed and tried to appear unaffected, which was pretty difficult with the way Will was smiling at her. Finally, he broke eye contact and gazed toward the water.

“Damn, that was fun.”

For a moment, she thought he was talking about their kiss, but then she caught the longing in his eyes as he stared at the ocean. A cold wave curled around Justine’s heart. Would any woman be able to make him look at her like that? So enraptured? She couldn’t help wondering if Will looked the same way when he was in love.

“I know you’re busy,” she said, “but when will you have time for me? I’m kind of on a deadline to make tonight’s online edition.”

“I’m free now.”

“Oh. Great.” She hadn’t expected him to be available so soon. There were still two hundred people on the beach, many of which were probably there to see him.

“Let me grab my stuff.”

She nodded and watched him walk away. He was still wearing his wetsuit top, but she could see the outlines of muscles working in his back and shoulders. Her hands had been holding his tight waist just a short time ago. She felt that tingling in her fingers again.

On one of their four dates, they’d gone dancing. Will was a good dancer and she’d felt those same muscles through his shirt back then. Why hadn’t it dawned on her that there had to be another side to the guy who sat behind a computer all day? And why the hell did he still have his shirt on now?

She mentally kicked herself, forcing her mind to recall the last memory she had of him…

Will had vanished—
poof
! No phone call, no nothing, only a note on the pillow beside her when she’d woken up in his bed the next morning. The whole experience had been mortifying, punctuated by a staggering hangover that lasted two days. All these months later, she still couldn’t remember what happened between them that night.

There wasn’t an inch of her that wasn’t dying to know the whole truth. Then again, was that more important than trumping her own scoop by adding the real name of Chase Ryder to her story?

The reporter in her hadn’t decided.

Will returned with a duffel bag. “Ready?”

“Sure.”

“Are you staying at one of the B&B’s?” he asked.

“No, I couldn’t find a hotel. Too short notice, so I squatted with a friend of a friend.”

“That’s convenient,” he said as they treaded in the sand toward the road.

“I just needed one night, so it was perfect.”

Will stopped at a ragtop Jeep. “This is me.”

“Oh. Okay. Should we meet or…”

“I know you requested a public place, but I’d rather not discuss what we’re going to discuss in public. Would you mind if I drove us somewhere?” His sunny brown eyes held steadily on her, but there was something reserved behind them now.

Suspicion, maybe? Oh, he didn’t trust her, either. Interesting. Perhaps Will’s double life was more complicated than she’d assumed. Not that it mattered. Chase Ryder was the important part of her story—period. Her means to an end.

If she wanted to impress her boss, this interview
had
to go well. She needed Will relaxed and willing to share, even if that meant not in public.

“I don’t mind,” she replied, falling into reporter mode. “Whatever makes you comfortable.”

“The thought of giving an interview makes me
very
uncomfortable, Justine.” His voice trailed off as his eyes gave her a quick up-and-down, then he tossed his duffel bag in the backseat and pulled open her door. “Hop in.”

The back of her mind said something about how she should take her own car so she could abandon ship if things got rocky, but that seemed like an unnecessary precaution. Besides, her heart actually gave one of those silly flutters at the thought of sitting next to Will. Yes, she wanted to be with him as a…a professional curiosity. And it wasn’t like they were strangers, even though, for all intents and purposes, she’d met Chase Ryder only a few hours ago.