The Perfect Wave
Page 1
Copyright © 2014 A.J. Pryor
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 149950425X
ISBN 13: 9781499504255
Edited by Christine Van Zandt, www.write-for-success.com Cover art by Sarah Hansen: ©Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations www.okaycreations.com
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, whether print, electronic or otherwise, including, but not limited to, photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author. Notwithstanding the foregoing, brief excerpts or quotations are permissible for book review purposes.
This book is fictional. Names, characters, places, and incidents are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Further, any reference to or use of actual locations, products, or public figures is not authorized by the respective owners, trademark holders, licenses, or the public figures and thereby such owners, trademark holders, and public figures are not sponsors of this work, have not authorized their use in this work, and are in no way associated with this work.
CONTENTS
Chapter 1: Roan
Chapter 2: Jessica
Chapter 3: Jessica
Chapter 4: Roan
Chapter 5: Jessica
Chapter 6: Roan
Chapter 7: Roan
Chapter 8: Roan
Chapter 9: Jessica
Chapter 10: Roan
Chapter 11: Jessica
Chapter 12: Roan
Chapter 13: Jessica
Chapter 14: Roan
Chapter 15: Jessica
Chapter 16: Jessica
Chapter 17: Roan
Chapter 18: Roan
Chapter 19: Roan
Chapter 20: Jessica
Chapter 21: Roan
Chapter 22: Roan
Chapter 23: Roan
Chapter 24: Jessica
Chapter 25: Jessica
Chapter 26: Roan
Chapter 27: Roan
Chapter 28: Jessica
Chapter 29: Jessica
Chapter 30: Roan
Chapter 31: Roan
Chapter 32: Jessica
Chapter 33: Roan
Chapter 34: Roan
Chapter 35: Jessica
Chapter 36: Jessica
Chapter 37: Roan
Chapter 38: Jessica
Chapter 39: Roan
Chapter 40: Jessica
Chapter 41: Jessica
Chapter 42: Roan
Chapter 43: Roan
Acknowledgements
About the Author
he ball landed right in front of her, the hottest chick to enter my world in a while. She was a Southern Belle, stunning from head to toe with a slight Texas drawl that always caught my attention. Too bad her mission in life was to prove just how much she despised me. That sassy attitude she always threw my way irritated the hell out of me. But man, she was sexy.
There was no way she hadn’t seen the ball land a few inches from her face, but she continued to lie on her stomach and sunbathe while reading her cooking magazine. Time to rile things up a bit. “Hey Goldilocks, throw me the ball, will ya?” Her dark blue eyes, glared back at my bright blue ones. Jessica Baker, the one woman who may succeed in driving me insane, looked up at me from her towel on the sand, narrowed her eyes, and scowled. That’s right: she scowled at me. Then she glanced around the beach, located the ball, and turned her head back in my direction. Those ocean blue eyes of hers slowly moved from my face, down my chest and blinked in silent calculation for every one of the eight ridges that lined my stomach. Realizing that my surfer body also came with a happy trail, her full lips slightly parted and she quickly looked away in the direction of the ball.
“It’s ten feet away from me, Roan. Get it yourself.” She lay back down on her towel, her body glistening under the hot California sun, and continued reading her cooking magazine. I intently scanned her toned back, and that small scrap of hot pink fabric that barely covered her ass. She was tall and blonde, like me, with long legs I could envision getting tangled with mine.
“Goldilocks, the ball is right in front of you.” She hated it when I called her that, but it was so damn fitting. “All you have to do is reach out your arm a few inches, grab it, and throw it in my direction.”
She gently closed her magazine, placed it on the sand, and then pushed herself off the towel sitting back on her heels. Her bikini bottoms shifted just slightly to the side, giving me a small glimpse of the pale skin that had been hidden from the sun throughout the summer. My shorts were suddenly too tight.
Her lean body stretched forward as she reached for the ball and tossed it in the opposite direction. “There. Now it’s too far away for me to reach. Y’all can get it yourselves,” she said, her southern drawl making a slight appearance. Calmly she returned to reading her magazine.
I sighed. This chick was un-fucking-believable. Being a sports agent for some of the world’s top extreme athletes, I traveled the world. Women in every part of the planet threw themselves at me. Sometimes I could barely keep up. This one needed an attitude adjustment. I walked over to the ball, keeping my eyes firmly on the sand, grabbed it, and returned to the water, where my best friend, Mason Green, was waiting for me.
I looked around the beach. It was late September, and the weather was hot. The fall months always seemed to be the warmest in Los Angeles, but lately they were getting hotter. We were at Mason’s Malibu beach house, enjoying the peace and quiet of his private property. Looking back at Jessica, I started thinking I would have been more relaxed just a few miles south of here in Venice Beach, where I lived.
“What was that all about?” Mason asked as I tossed him the football.
“Just Jessica being Jessica.”
He eyed me.
“Dude, don’t look at me like that,” I said. “I have no idea what her problem is.”
He continued to stare me down.
“What? Now that you’re engaged, you think you can read minds? Why are you glaring at me?”
Mason had been my best friend since we were eight years old. He’d made millions as one of the most successful software developers of our time. At thirty, he was finally hanging up his eligible bachelor status and marrying Casey Jacobs, stylist to the stars. I couldn’t blame him. Casey was the sweetest, coolest chick around, and Mason adored her, which meant she held a special place in my life as well.
“Maybe if you chilled with all the other women, she wouldn’t have such distaste for you.”
“I didn’t bring anyone with me today.”
“Thank God for that,” he shot back.
“Look, Mason, it’s not my fault Jessica is or maybe was attracted to me at some point. I can’t change that, and I’m certainly not going to behave differently because you’re marrying her best friend. I told you, there’s no way I’m going out with her. We both know there are a thousand reasons it would only end in disaster.”
I’d met Jessica a few months earlier, when Mason first started dating Casey. It was clear then that Jessica had some crazy attraction to me. Don’t get me wrong; she was as hot as they came, with long, blonde hair and those dark blue eyes, and I’d have loved to get her in my bed. However, once I’d left her for the next pretty thing to come my way, life would get uncomfortable for all of us. I wasn’t willing to go down that path. Unfortunately, life was awkward anyway. Apparently, my refusal to date her caused her to completely despise me. Maybe I should have just banged her. Then at least she’d have a reason to throw her attitude my way.
“I’m not asking you to change,” Mason said. “Just be a little more respectful.”
“Hi, Casey. About a half hour ago. Good run?”
“Yep. Are you going surfing today?”
“Maybe in a little bit. Do you want to come with me?” I grinned at her. Casey hated going in the water. I was an avid surfer and, unlike Mason, could never date a chick who wouldn’t get her hair wet. But who was I kidding? Dating led to commitment - something I stayed far away from.
She laughed. “No thanks, but I’m sure Jessica would want to join you. She’s been talking about taking surf lessons for years now.”
Yeah, not likely, I thought.
I threw Mason the ball one more time, but his attention was elsewhere. That was what happened whenever Casey was around. He loved that girl more than life. I only hoped it lasted. My parents said they had that kind of love, but then they fell out of it. They divorced my senior year in college, epically failing my ten-year-old brother, Blake. If I hadn’t stepped in and shown him how to be a man, he’d probably be on the streets right now. I loved my brother with every breath I took. There was no way I’d ever allow him to become less than what he was worth. The kid was a superstar football player, on full scholarship as starting quarterback at UCLA and cocky as sin. He took after me in more ways than just his blonde hair and blue eyes and I was proud to be the only adult role model he had. There was no way I would do to any child what my parents did to him. If that meant I stayed a bachelor my whole life, then so be it.
Turning to head back up the beach and get my board, I suddenly came face-to-face with Jessica. I hadn’t realized she’d come down to the water.
“Find anything new you want to cook for me?” I asked, grinning at her.
“Depends.”
This ought to be interesting. I narrowed my eyes, and studied her. “Depends on what?”
“Will you teach me how to surf?”
Shocked at her sudden change in demeanor; I was almost speechless—almost.
“That’s an interesting arrangement, Goldilocks. I teach you to surf, and you cook for me?”
She had this thing for experimenting with food. I would call her crazy if I hadn’t tasted some of her creations. They were downright delicious. Last time I’d seen her, she’d mentioned something about writing her own cookbook.
Her mind was working too hard, evident by the creases that appeared between her eyes. Without thinking, I used my thumb to smooth them down. Her eyes opened wide in surprise, and her mouth parted slightly. My heart skipped a beat. I quickly removed my hand from her face and took a deep breath. Not wanting to delve into why I suddenly felt like I was going to have a heart attack, I asked, “What in the world are you thinking about?”
Her lips closed, and she eyed me. “I’m wonderin’ if this is a fair trade. Sounds like a lot of work for me when all you have to do is teach me how to surf. Something you could do with your eyes closed.”
I was looking into her dark blues. My heart sped up again and my palms started to sweat. What the hell was wrong with me?
“Forget it. Don’t do me any favors. Chances are you’ll put cyanide in whatever you make for me anyway.” I walked away in the direction of my surfboard.
She stalked behind me. “I would never!” Then she added under her breath, “Though maybe I’d throw in a few habaneros.”
I turned on her and stopped her short, her face inches from mine. “I heard that, Goldilocks, and just so you know, I can handle whatever heat you throw my way.”
“I doubt that, Surfer Boy,” she mumbled.
I laughed. “Surfer Boy? Sorry, but last time I checked I was a full-grown man.” I looked down at my shorts, indicating there was nothing boyish about me.
Turning the slightest shade of red, she quickly changed the subject. “Do you have an extra surfboard?”
Unfortunately, I had brought only one, and it was too small for her. I wasn’t in the business of teaching anyone to surf. As a sports agent my focus was mostly on surfers, snowboarders, and skateboarders. I represented some of the top athletes in the extreme sports world. In fact, one of my snowboarders took home first place in the Aspen X Games last year. I spent most of my time in the water with them—not teaching them.
I shook my head. “Not today, but I will teach you. We just need to schedule it.”
She looked down, disappointed. What was it with this girl? One minute she hated me, and the next it was as if spending time with me was the only thing on her mind. All I knew was I did not like the expression on her face, and I’d do anything to change it.
“Do you know how to bodysurf?” I asked.
Her eyes rose to meet mine, a new shine in those dark blues. “No, I’m from Texas. I can shoot at a moving target, lasso a cow, and ride a horse, but that’s about it.”
I stared at her for a long time before I trusted myself to speak. The thought of Jessica Baker shooting a gun was doing a number on my wild imagination. “I think that’s a pretty impressive résumé. Follow me, I’ll teach you.”
The ocean in front of Mason’s house was more of a lagoon, so we had to walk around the property to a stretch of ocean that actually had waves. It was Saturday afternoon, and there were a few other residents sunbathing or playing with their dogs, but for the most part this exclusive area of Malibu was quiet. I missed the rowdy, eccentric vibe of Venice Beach. Looking over at Jessica and thinking of my home sent chills down my spine. As a rich daddy’s girl from Dallas, she would crash into my town like a tsunami: Reason Number 540 I had to keep my hands to myself, even though I desperately wanted to touch her.
She was facing the water, the wind blowing her blonde hair off her face and around her shoulders. My hands twitched with the desire to run them over her golden skin and feel all she had to offer. I couldn’t peel my eyes away from her. I’d never felt so drawn to a woman before (which led to Reason Number 541) of never making the moves on her.
“Come on,” I said. “We need to swim out.”
With a huge smile on her face, she dove under the waves. We swam to where we couldn’t stand and started treading water.
“You need to keep your hands in front of you at all times,” I told her, “so if you hit the ground, your hands, not your head, will hit first.”
There was determination in her eyes as she listened to me.
“Ready?” I asked. “We’ll take this one in together.”
I hadn’t bodysurfed in years and had forgotten how fun it was. Jessica seemed to be enjoying it just as much, and I almost forgot I was with someone who tried her best to keep me at a distance. On the last wave, I reached for her more out of habit than anything else. I wasn’t used to hanging around women in a strictly platonic way, and being out in the water with her made it hard for me to keep my actions in check.
The moment my fingers touched her soft skin, I pulled her in toward me and wrapped my arms around her. Our eyes locked, and I was suddenly stuck, not sure what to do from there or why I’d grabbed for her in the first place. Luckily, I was saved by a wave that was about to crash on us.
“Hold your breath!” I yelled and dunked us both under the oncoming wave. It only took seconds for the water to rush past, but the way her hair was flowing in it and tickling my arm caused the strangest tingling sensation all over my skin. I had the urge to move her legs around me and melt in to her, but a sense of self stopped me from doing anything except keeping her protected until the wave had rushed past. When I knew it was safe to emerge, I shot us up and out of the water.
“That was . . . intense,” she said, before swimming away from me.
Yeah, it was, I thought, my arms suddenly feeling very empty.
Another huge wave came out of nowhere, and she was swiftly pulled under the water without me. Shit, I hope that she didn’t get hurt. I swam closer to shore, where I was sure the wave had moved her, and she popped up—her
top popping off right along with her. Her hands instantly flew to her chest.
“Turn around! Roan, please, please turn around!”
Raising an eyebrow, I stood still as two pink triangles floated right up to me, and I plucked them out of the water.
“Quite the sticky situation we’re in, aren’t we, Goldilocks?” I dangled her top off my finger and twirled it a few times for effect.
“Roan Anders, please give me my top back.” She stood there with her back straight, her chin out, and a hand covering each of her perky breasts.
I looked at the top and then back at her. “Tell me why you hate me, and I’ll give it back.”
“Are you shitting me?” she yelled.
“Holy crap, did Jessica Baker just say her first cuss word?” I replied, laughing.
“Ugh! I don’t hate you Roan. Far from it. Now will you please give me my top back?” She had moved farther into the water so the ocean was covering her body.
“Will you be nice to me?”
“Why do you care? Don’t you have enough women bowing at your feet?” Her shoulders dropped slightly and the deflated sound of her voice broke my heart a little.
“Because . . . I care.”
“Will you teach me to surf?” she asked, changing the subject.
“I already said I would.”
“Then yes, I will be nice to you. Can I have my top back now? Please.”
I handed her back the tiny scraps of material and turned around, giving her the privacy she wanted.
The waves had started to get rougher, and the sun was setting. “I think it’s time to head in,” I said. The beach had emptied. As we got out of the water, I noticed goose bumps all over Jessica’s skin, and her teeth were chattering. “You’re freezing,” I said.
“A little . . . b-b-bit,” she stammered.
I placed my arms around her and hugged her close, trying to get some warmth in her. “Sorry. I kept you out too long.” Shit! Poor thing was a wrinkled, frozen mess. “So . . . truce?”
She looked up and stared deep into my eyes. Raising an eyebrow at me, debating what she wanted to say. “Are you askin’ if we can be friends, Roan?”
Was I? I’d never had a chick as a friend before. What was the purpose of that? And looking at her, all I wanted to do was kiss her. I wanted my lips on her and to feel her breath mix with mine. I almost leaned in . . . but I saw confusion flare in her eyes, and I stopped myself. Jessica was a relationship type of girl, and I was a notch-on-the-bedpost type of guy. We would never work and most likely destroy a few friendships in our wake. Which bypassed every other excuse my mind had conjured up, and landed me at reason Number 1 for keeping my hands off her.