Keeping Mr. Right Now: A Kisses in the Sand Novel (Entangled Bliss) (11 page)

“Then I’m good with any other questions.”

They entered her hotel lobby, and as she did every time she was in the reception area, she inhaled the citrusy floral and dried-in-the-sun driftwood scents. The dash of coconut was a bonus.

Tango happened by and sent a huge smile her way. She delivered one back, his warmth and kindness another gift from White Strand she’d always remember. When she’d told him about her surf lesson, he’d taken her aside and told her if anyone messed with her again to let him know and he’d take care of it. She’d giggled because really? This big, bad ex–football player was on her side, and she’d never been taken under someone’s wing like that before.

Right now, Tango shot daggers at Zane, and she once again let free a nervous giggle. Was he worried about her being with the surf god?

“Zane. Thanks for seeing my girl back.”

“My pleasure.”

“She have a good night?”

Zane stood taller, puffed out his chest. “I think she did.”

“She’s standing right here, you know.” Sophie crossed her arms and lifted her chin, trying really hard not to split the biggest grin ever. No one talked about her like this, and a thrill trekked down her back.

Both men looked at her.

“Hi, Tango, I had a lovely time at the concert. Thank you for asking. Zane, thank you for walking me back. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Then, because heck, she wanted to, she lifted on tiptoes and gave each man a kiss on the cheek before striding toward the elevator.

She liked this independent, bolder Sophie. She liked her a lot.

…

Zane couldn’t have been more in the present. The huge waves pounding the beach had called to him early this morning and, along with most of the other pros in White Strand, he’d taken the plunge. He stood on his board, feeling the air and sprays of water around him, as the power of an eight- to ten-foot wave pushed his surfboard harder, faster. Any loss of focus and he’d bite it.

Thanks to storms thousands of miles away off the coasts of Antarctica and New Zealand, a chain of cosmic waves had made their way to California. According to the forecast, a rare summer rainstorm was due to hit the West Coast sometime in the next few hours as well, creating conditions surfers only dreamed about.

He rode out the wave and then caught another.

And another.

He paddled hard and ripped it up every single time. In the zone, that weightless, nothing-can-touch-me surreal existence where all the negative crap in his head left his body and he was only left with the feel-good stuff.

Sophie stuff.

Whatever was happening upstairs—in his brain, in his psyche—had Sophie written all over it, and with every swell, he wanted to suspend time and enjoy the sensations.

All his rides had been for her. And he took one more fast-as-hell, long, bumpy drop. He rode it all the way to shore and hit the sand to applause and cheers.

“Zane!”

“Dude! That was sweet!”

“Zane! Couple of questions?”

He ran a hand through his sopping hair. With his other hand, he hung on to his board. “Sure.” The crowd of spectators had grown since he’d been in the water. A few press guys stood out, lanyards around their necks, notepads in their hands.

“Is this a dream day or what?” one reporter asked.

“No doubt,” Zane said. “And fun as hell.” He glanced over his shoulder at the crushing waves, the guys still out there in line. A young boy, seven, maybe eight, came up beside him and slid the Velcro wristband from his boogie board in place on his arm.

“But,” he added, ruffling the kid’s hair, “surf like this brings dangerous riptides, and everyone except the professionals needs to stay on the sand.” The boy’s mom quickly undid the band.

“Being an intrepid leader in the sport, what’s it like out there just for fun?” another reporter asked.

“It’s awesome. When I’m on a wave, time ceases to exist, and I’m in this intense state of euphoria, peace, and excitement.” He took a deep breath. “And when I don’t have to worry about scores, I can mess around with my technique and put toes on the nose if I feel like it.”

“Looked like every ride was near perfect today.” This from Chris.

“Yeah. Luck was a factor for sure with those amazon swells. I knew I didn’t want to be too deep at the back door, and I had to grab air a few times, but it felt great out there.” Zane glanced at the sky. Dark clouds were moving in.

He scanned the crowd next, hoping to find a certain redhead. After the sweet kiss she’d placed on his cheek last night, he couldn’t stop thinking about where else he wanted her mouth.

And after she’d called him “evasive,” he’d wondered for the first time what it might be like to trust a woman. He didn’t want to lie to Sophie. But he didn’t want to tell her the truth, either.

I never graduated high school and yeah, my dad told me I had shit for brains so often that I believed him.

“I hear it can be magical out there,” a female reporter said. “Any truth to that?”

Zane redirected his focus to the woman. This morning had been amazing, in no small part thanks to his growing relationship with Sophie and his thoughts about confiding in her.

“Definitely,” he said. “It’s that feeling of flying we thought about as kids combined with the sense of accomplishment we hunger for as adults. Not a bad way to spend a few hours.”

“Zane, rumor has it SHE wants you to be their next ambassador. What can you bring to the table?”

Effing Chris. He’d mentioned SHE to him earlier, not expecting to be put on the spot like this. The back of Zane’s throat constricted and he fought to swallow. His hand squeezed the board. He knew what he wanted to contribute, but saying it in front of all these people…

Every word out of your mouth means jack shit. You’re stupid, son, so best keep quiet. You’re a lost cause except in the water.

He skimmed through the pack of people, avoiding eye contact, the shapes and sizes blurring until that halo of beautiful reddish-yellow hair snagged his attention.

Sophie.

She stood off to the side, a burst of sunshine on this cloudy day.

“I think I speak for every surfer,” Zane began, “when I say we’ve become increasingly aware of our impact on the planet.” Sweat trickled down his back; his heart pounded in his chest. “And uh…”

Sophie nodded. She nodded like she knew his answer and knew the crowd wouldn’t find fault with it.

“And I want to bring more positive environmental, social, and global change.”

Jesus. He sounded like a PSA for any charitable organization. But the generalization was a start, at least. “I’d like to keep the rest of my thoughts to myself until I have a chance to talk to SHE personally.” He felt deeply about helping to make a difference. Knew in his head he could if given the chance. Even more so now. If an intelligent woman like Sophie thought him worthy, then so would SHE and everyone else.

The smile she wore drew his own. Everything faded away but the look of pride on her face. He didn’t know if he deserved her admiration, but in that moment, every second he’d spent with her flashed through his mind and he did know he didn’t just want her. He wanted to know everything about her.

“That’s all for today,” he said. “Thanks.” A few long strides and he stood in front of this crazy beautiful woman he hadn’t a clue how to handle. “Hi.”

Her gaze took in his chest, dipped lower, came back up. “Hi. You were amazing.”

“In the water?”

“Just now.”

Pride unlike any he’d felt before swam through his veins.

She ran her hand along the logo on his surfboard. “But in the water, too, definitely. I got really nervous watching you. Those waves are gigantic. Honor told me to chill out.”

“That’s good advice.”

“Were you scared out there?”

“Not even a little.”
No fear or go home
, he and his surf buddies said. Sure, he’d been shaken a time or two. But nothing like the massive impact Sophie seemed to have on him with growing frequency.

“Well, that’s good. I guess you’ve surfed even bigger waves?”

“Yeah.” He ran his finger across her nose and cheek. “You’ve got a couple more freckles than you had yesterday.”

“I do?” Her eyes grew rounder. She reached up to cover her face, but he stopped her with a gentle hold on her wrist so he could watch her cheeks redden. That he made her nervous was such a rush.

“I think the California sunshine likes you.”

“I like it, too.”

“Fritz says some rain is coming.” He rubbed the pad of his thumb across the inside of her wrist.

“Fritz?”

“The weather guy.”

“Is that very common?”

“He’s the only Fritz I’ve heard of.”

She laughed and pulled her hand back to cover her mouth. “I meant the rain in August.”

He knew what she meant, and if she drew any more attention to those pretty lips of hers, he was going to kiss her into next summer.

“Mr. Hollander?”

Zane turned, both happy and bummed at the interruption. He was too easily lost in Sophie and needed to remember their friendship didn’t give him any right to act on the impulses she stirred. Especially in public, where someone always seemed to have an eye on him.

“Hey, bud.”

“Would you mind autographing my board?” the teenage boy asked.

“Not at all.” He leaned his board toward Sophie so she could hold it and grinned like a fool when she wrapped both arms around it like it was something fragile. “What’s your name?”

“Joseph.” The kid handed Zane a pen and tipped his board.

“How long you been surfing?”

“Four years. Since I was ten,” Joseph said.

“You always surf with someone, right?” Zane signed and gave the Sharpie back.

“Yeah. My mom and dad won’t let me go out otherwise.”

Zane had gone out all the time by himself at Joseph’s age. A stupid move, given accidents happened in the water. But then most days, he hadn’t asked for permission.

“That’s chill. No man left alone out there is a good rule to stick by.”

Joseph grinned and nodded. “Thanks a lot.”

“Find me later in the week and I’ll join you.”

The boy’s eyes widened. “
Really?
That would be so unbelievably cool.”

“Just do me a favor and keep out of the water today.”

“Okay. Thanks, Mr. Hollander.” Joseph tripped over his feet as he backed away.

“Call me Zane.” He watched Joseph join a couple of other teenagers.

“You, Zane Hollander,” Sophie said, peeking from behind his board with green eyes sparkling, “are really good with kids.”

He tried hardest with young people. “I like them.”

“I could tell.”

“I’m starting to think I can’t keep anything from you, Sophie Birch.”

She dropped her chin at that, long, dark eyelashes reaching toward her eyebrows as she pinned him with a bashful gaze. “I could stop.”

“Stop?”

“Trying to figure you out. I like trying to make sense of people. That’s the one thing I do miss about my research.”

He put his hands on the surfboard, just above her arms, their faces mere inches apart. “You want to figure me out?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Why?”

“Who wouldn’t want to? You’re…you’re lots of things. All good.”

“I’m not all good, Sophie.” Hell, he was maybe half good. “And you’d be smart to keep your distance from me.”

“What if I don’t want to?” Her blush spread down the pretty column of her neck.

“Then you might have to do some very bad things to completely
figure me out
.” He should be the one walking away, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Her breath caught. “Maybe I will.”

Best “maybe” he’d ever heard. As he spent more time with her and she came out of her shell, he didn’t know whether to take what he wanted with increasing need or wait for her to give him a glaring signal.

“Zane?” a woman said from over his shoulder.

He twisted to one side. Two bikini-clad women flashed their bright white teeth and thrust out their chests. The standard pose that once upon a time would’ve had his interest.

But this morning, not even a speck of curiosity filled him as he let go of the board and did a one-eighty. “Hey there.”

“We were hoping for an autograph,” the one on the left said.

“Sure.”

They took a few sidesteps and glanced Sophie’s way. They each did a little hair flip and tilted their heads. Zane tossed Sophie an apologetic look, but he didn’t think she caught it. Instead, she’d shrunk behind the surfboard.

“Pen?” He didn’t even try to hide the annoyance in his voice. These two women were trying to show Sophie up and it pissed him off.

“Right here.” One of them handed over a pink Sharpie, oblivious to his irritation.

He silently cursed his motto of never turning down an autograph request. Given they wore nothing but two small scraps of material, they probably wanted him to sign their chests. He’d done it too many times to count, but not anymore.

The girl doing all the talking brushed the swell of her breast like it had dust on it or something and pulled her shoulder back to give him access.

“Sigs go on the arms now, ladies.”

“Aww,” the woman said. “What if I say pretty please?”