Making Waves

Making Waves
Julie Kenner

Tessa Dalton used to be a celebrated author of erotic fairytales…until her ex-husband used them against her in a highly publicized divorce case. He said she had an insatiable appetite for men–any men. But in truth,Tessa's erotica was inspired by her personal fantasies, fantasies her ex-husband never came close to fulfilling…and fantasies that are suddenly fueled when she meets journalist Colt Granger….The attraction is instantaneous, the chemistry, smoldering. And before long,Tessa is ready to write again. Only this time, she's got company. She and Colt burn up the phone lines, collaborating on a sensual story all their own–a story that is recorded on paper…and reenacted in her bed. Tessa has never been so satisfied, so fulfilled. And she intends to enjoy it while it lasts. Because she's learned the hard way that there's no such thing as a fairytale ending….

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Making Waves

J. Kenner

www.spice-books.co.uk (http://www.spice-books.co.uk)

J. KENNER has always loved stories—reading them, watching them on television and on the silver screen, and making them up herself. She studied film before attending law school, but knew that her real vocation lay in writing the kind of books she loves to read. She lives in Texas with her husband, two daughters and several cats.

For Isabella

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

1

LACI MONTGOMERY collapsed on the sand, her entire body tingling from exertion and excitement.

She’d just ridden in on one beauty of a wave, a killer bombora that had fought her all the way in, determined to trip her up and pull her under. She’d conquered it, though, and her victory was a beauty.

“Damn,” Drea said, running up the beach with Laci’s video camera in her hand. “Too bad the competition hasn’t started. You would have earned some serious points on that ride.”

“Enough to beat you,” Laci retorted, biting back a smile.

“True enough,” Drea said. “Good thing the competition hasn’t started.”

“Enjoy your status while you can, rookie,” Laci said, continuing the good-natured ribbing, “because I am going to totally blow you out of the water when the competition gets going.”

“Smile when you say that,” Drea said, aiming the camera at Laci. Laci obliged with a wide grin, then stuck her tongue out at her friend. The teasing was all in fun, and Drea knew that Laci was only playing. Well, mostly only playing. The truth was that Andrea Powell, Laci’s friend and roommate, was the hot new thing on the female surfing circuit, the rookie of the year who was usually the subject of the cameras. Laci and Drea had only known each other a few weeks, but they’d bonded fast, and Laci genuinely wished Drea all the best. Well, mostly the best. Because if Laci had her way, Drea was about to be seriously out-classed by the new girl in town: Laci Montgomery, this year’s wild-card entry in the Girls Go Banzai surfing competition.

“You’re going down, girlfriend,” she said, but with a smile.

“Am I?” Drea said as she pointed toward the surf. “Or are we both going to get our asses seriously kicked?”

Drea’s finger was aimed right at JC Wilcox, a world-class surfer with the trophies to prove it. Laci would have had to hate her if JC wasn’t such a great friend. She contented herself with being annoyed at JC’s habit of leaving her towel draped over the curtain rod in the one-bathroom bungalow the three of them were sharing until after the competition.

“She’s looking really good,” Laci said with mixed envy and pride. She and JC had been friends for over a year, and during that time, Laci had learned a lot about JC. Mostly, she knew that the Hawaiian-born beauty was one hell of a surfer, and she deserved all her accolades and honors, but right then, JC had what Laci coveted: an actual corporate sponsor.

She sighed, telling herself it was the steady income of a sponsorship that she wanted. However, that wasn’t entirely true. She could always find a way to make money, JC’s trophies and sponsorships meant more than a paycheck. They meant that JC had earned her place in surfing.

And so far—although Laci had busted her tail and had some solid accolades and competitions under her belt—Laci still didn’t have the holy grail. She still didn’t have validation. And so help her, she craved it.

“You okay?” Drea’s head was cocked, examining Laci’s face.

“I’m fine.” In fact, she wasn’t. She was desperate for a win; desperate to prove herself here at Banzai. And that fierceness in her left a guilty hole in her stomach. But she couldn’t help it—she wanted to win. Wanted it and needed it.

More than that, she was certain that Drea and JC wanted it, too. But that was the kind of thing the girls didn’t talk about unless they disguised it as joking. Sure, they were friends. But hanging out on the beach and discussing their pasts and their boyfriends and their surfboard wax was one thing. Copping to the hope of unseating both of her friends and taking a world-class championship? Well, that was an unspoken given, with unspoken being the key operating word.

Tease about it, yes.

Seriously state out loud that you want to beat your friend? Just not done.

But Laci wanted it. Oh, yeah. She wanted it bad.

“You don’t look fine,” Drea said. “Are you nervous?”

“A little,” Laci admitted. “I’m still in a bit of shock, I think. I mean, I’m in Hawaii, competing in one of the hottest competitions on the planet. I’ve seen my picture on the Internet and in the local paper, and when we go into the bars and diners, the waitstaff actually knows my name. It’s—”

“A trip,” Drea said.

“Disconcerting,” Laci countered. More than that, all this unanticipated press was exactly the reason she was so anxious to prove herself. She was the wild card in this competition—here because she was plucked out of the pile of all the potential surfers by XtremeSportNet, the corporation that was hosting and sponsoring the Girls Go Banzai competition here in Hawaii.

Most of the competitors had arrived at the competition through what Laci thought of as the usual route. In other words, they had entered a less prestigious, more locally oriented contest that fed into a bigger contest that fed into a bigger contest, until finally the top-ranking surfers in a dozen or so competitions were eligible to compete at Banzai.

In contrast, Laci hadn’t played the competition circuit. Instead, she’d been invited by the sponsor—XtremeSportNet—to compete at Banzai as a wild card, which traditionally meant that the sponsor had seen the surfer at exhibitions or other competitions, had liked what they saw, and thought the wild card would be an asset to the overall competition.

She scowled, thinking of all the possible ways a sponsor might consider a surfer an asset. Media appeal, for example. But Laci was interested in none of that, and now that she was here, she figured it was her job to prove to everyone that she was picked because of her skill and only her skill.