Making Waves

“Sure,” Drea said, shaking out her towel and securing it back around her hips. “Laci?”

Laci shook her head, the thought of spending some alone time on the beach too enticing to pass up. “I’m going to hang here for a while, but I might swing by Da Kine later for a snack. You want me to call you?”

“Sure,” Drea said, and although JC nodded, there was a shadow in her eyes.

“What?” Laci demanded.

“It’s probably nothing,” JC said.

“Then spit it out.”

“It’s just that when I was in there last night, I thought I saw someone. I’m not even sure. It’s probably nothing.”

Laci was bolt upright now, her back straight, senses tingling. “Who did you see?”

“Thought I saw,” JC clarified.

Laci crossed her arms and stared down her friend.

“Fine. I thought I saw Taylor Dutton.”

Drea let out a low whistle even as Laci’s insides went cold. “Here? Working the competition? That doesn’t make any sense. He doesn’t even work for Xtreme.”

Drea and JC exchanged looks. “Yeah, he does,” JC said. “Has been for a while, actually. But,” she hurried to add, possibly because she saw panic on Laci’s face, “there’s no way I could have seen him. I mean, he doesn’t have any reason to be here,” JC said. “Morgan Castle’s here for Xtreme. I talked to him yesterday.” She waved a hand, as if dismissing the whole conversation. “It was probably someone who looked like Taylor. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No,” Laci said. “It’s okay. Taylor doesn’t mean a thing to me anymore. For that matter, he never meant anything. He was a fling. That’s all.”

They both looked at her as if they didn’t believe her, which made sense considering she was lying through her teeth.

“Go on,” she said. “I’m gonna hang for a while and then go back to the bungalow. And don’t look so stricken. I’m fine. He’s not even really here, right? And I can totally handle bumping into someone who vaguely looks like a guy I dated a while ago. Really,” she added because her friends still seemed dubious.

Despite their obvious hesitations, they finally left, but not before making her promise to call if she needed anything.

She wouldn’t.

Even if Taylor were on the island—and why would he be with Morgan gunning to score big promoter points with his boss?—it wasn’t as if Laci were still pining for the guy. Yes, she’d been blindsided before, but she’d wised up a lot since then. She’d confused pheromones for love and she’d gotten seriously burned as a result, her surfing triumphs tainted with the sour stench of sex traded for prime publicity ops. Sodding scumbag.

She’d left him on the beach in California and she’d never looked back.

Laci was not like her mom. Everything she had, she’d earned. And now here she was at Girls Go Banzai, a competition that she’d only dreamed about, and certainly hadn’t hoped to achieve so soon. And, as Drea had said, XtremeSportNet saw potential in her, when they picked her as the Banzai wild card, and she was going to make sure they also saw a star.

Of course, for that to happen, she had to get up off this beach. And right at this moment, with the sun beating down on her, that seemed like the hardest thing in the world.

With a sigh, she wriggled deeper into the sand and said a silent thank-you that the first heat of the competition was still weeks away. JC was right—even though they had work to do in these upcoming weeks, relaxation was definitely on the agenda. Laci loved Hawaii, and although she intended to practice within an inch of her life, she also wanted to chill. Because in the end, the stereotypes were true: a laid-back, loose surfer would do way better in competition than a surfer wound tight as a spring.

And the news of Taylor’s possible presence on the island had definitely wound her up.

She just needed a few more minutes to let the sun and sand work their magic on her muscles.

Feeling utterly decadent, she arched her foot, then pressed her toes under the top layer of warm sand to the cool, wet mush below. The change in temperature shot through her, and that combined with the warm sun on her belly and breasts sent a sensual trill through her body.

She breathed deeply, enjoying the sensation and enjoying more the fact that she’d gotten here on her own. Taylor Dutton might have been an A-1 ass, but she’d kicked him firmly to the curb. She was here on this island in this competition because she’d earned it. Earned this sand. Earned this chance. And she intended to enjoy it.

“Heaven,” she whispered, her word coming out on a soft breath.

“Looks like it from here,” came the response in a deep, masculine drawl filled with Southern charm and ripe amusement.

Laci’s eyes flew open, and she found herself staring up into the ice-blue gaze of the one man she’d hoped never to see again.

The man who’d screwed her over.

The man who’d ruined her reputation.

And yes, the man she’d once loved with all her heart and soul.

Taylor Dutton.

2

NICE TO KNOWsome things never changed, Taylor thought as he took the brunt of Laci’s wrath. Her fiery temper—not to mention the sexy gleam in her eye—was exactly as he’d remembered it. And exactly what he’d been missing.

Laci Montgomery had gotten under his skin last year, and he’d never managed to shake her loose, despite the fact that she hated him for something he hadn’t even done. The machinations, sure. But how the hell was he supposed to know that the press would jump to the conclusion that the only reason she was a featured exhibition participant was because they were sharing a bed? It had been his job to find exciting new talent for the competition, and he’d fallen head over heels for the sexiest, most exciting woman that he’d ever run across on the surf circuit.

Yeah, he’d fallen in love with her.

And yeah, he’d wanted the whole world to fall in love with her, too.

So he’d brought her in as a wild-card contestant, and it was just their bad luck that some idiot reporter looking for a headline realized they’d been dating. But so what? It wasn’t as if Laci didn’t know her way around a board. She was absolutely brilliant on the waves.

He’d told her not to worry about it—he’d even managed to get the press to focus on her skills and rocketlike climb up through the surfing ranks. But like a dog with a bone, they’d refused to drop the sex angle.

And, okay, maybe it was his fault for mentioning to a reporter that they were dating, but he’d only said it because he was so proud of her. Laci, however, hadn’t seen it that way, especially after the press had jumped all over the story. And because of that, Laci dropped him. In her mind, since he’d been in charge of the media relations for the competition, he took the blame for their rabid reporting. As if he’d intentionally leaked them a hot story.

As if he hadn’t been falling head over heels in love with her when she’d yanked the rug right out from under him.

He’d been pissed—no, he’d been furious—and she’d added fuel to his already raging fire when she’d walked out on both him and the competition, leaving a hole in his heart and a chip on his shoulder. He’d been angry ever since. Angry at himself for mishandling the entire situation, and angry at Laci for not having guts enough to face the press and tell them to take a flying leap. Her surfing was what had gotten her into the exhibition, and anyone with two eyes on the waves could tell that just by looking at her perform.

She’d never even tried to defend her skill, though, and that was the one thing he’d never understood. It gnawed on him, especially since running away hadn’t changed the Big, Bad Media’s opinion. Just the opposite, actually. Her knee-jerk reaction had only increased the speculation that she’d used sex to get her name on the exhibition roster in the first place.

He’d been smug at first, figuring it served her right for being so cavalier with his heart. Then the anger had faded, and he owned up to being a major jerk. The truth was, he’d pulled her in because she was a damn good surfer, and as a newbie promoter with the responsibility of helping to launch a new competition, he needed as many damn good surfers as he could get. And it didn’t hurt if the surfers were camera-friendly, which Laci certainly was.

And yes, he’d picked her because she was his girlfriend. At the time, he’d believed he was doing her a favor—getting her name out there and her talent on display.

It had never occurred to him that the media would insinuate that she’d landed her position in the competition by sleeping with him. He’d been blindsided—he could admit that now—and he hadn’t handled the situation well at all.

In fact, not only had he not handled it well, but he hadn’t handled her at all. He’d basically told her to buck up, and never once had he simply let her cry on his shoulder. He’d been The Promoter, not The Boyfriend, and that failure, along with all his other mistakes, had killed their relationship.

But even now—even knowing all that—he still didn’t understand why she hadn’t fought back. Why hadn’t she made a statement or ignored the media or just shown any backbone at all? What he did know was that he’d been a major player in making her hurt.