The Surfer Solution

by Cathy Yardley

  And if that wasn’t enough to frost her cookies, then nothing was.

  “Allison! What did you think?”

  Allison stared at Frank, who was looking at her expectantly. “About what?”

  His left eyebrow went up. “Oh, I don’t know. How about Kate’s presentation? Which you’ve just been listening to for the past fifteen minutes?”

  The silent you idiot was heavily implied.

  She winced. “It seemed okay to me.”

  “Really?” He grimaced. “Anybody else have any insightful comments?”

  Peter, the guy who was going to be up next, cleared his throat. “It wasn’t bad, Kate,” he said in a tone that suggested the complete opposite. “Still, I’m sure you meant to mention a few things but were just short for time. Like...”

  And with that intro, he proceeded to take the next five minutes to completely tee off on Kate’s presentation. His comments were phrased politely, but were completely bloodless. By the time he was finished, Kate was flushed bright red, even though she did nothing more than nod.

  “Okay, Pete. Your turn. Show her how it’s done,” Frank said, his voice proud and encouraging.

  Allison tried to pay more attention this time, even though she felt bad about what had happened to Kate. She’d seen enough of these in-house competitions, and had participated in enough of them, to know that it wasn’t personal. Still, if you weren’t tough, it was enough to leave you pretty beat up, mentally.

  Pete started making his presentation, and insidiously, thoughts of Sean kept creeping back. She didn’t want to be a coward, and didn’t think she was being one. Now that she thought of it, she might not even really need the lessons anymore. She barely had what her doctor would consider “a hobby” and yet she hadn’t experienced a full-blown anxiety attack since that one day. Maybe it was just an aberration. Sure, she still had flutters. And she could deal with them, as long as she kept an eye on it.

  Maybe I don’t need to go back to Sean’s at all. Maybe I don't need surf lessons anymore. Maybe...

  The mix of feelings that that single thought kicked up was both strong and startling.

  “Allison? Still with us?” - Allison blinked. “You got it, boss.”

  “In case you were wondering,” Frank said, his sarcasm thick, “I want to know what you think of Peter’s presentation. Come on. Let ’er rip.”

  She sighed. “It was fine.”

  “‘Okay?’ ‘Fine’?” Frank sounded baffled. “What the hell kind of constructive criticism is that?”

  She should’ve known better. She took a deep breath. “I’m reserving judgment.”

  “I’m not,” Kate said, her tone borderline vicious. She was still smarting from Peter’s polite autopsy of her presentation, and she proceeded to go nuclear on his idea, tearing it apart with glee.

  “There’s absolutely no way the client would go for something like this,” she concluded.

  “You’re just upset because I pointed out all the holes in your presentation!” Peter yelled, the vein in his forehead pulsing dangerously.

  “I might’ve missed a few points, but at least I thought my idea through,” Kate countered, standing up. “My five-year-old could come up with a better design concept than yours!”

  “Whoa, whoa, easy,” Frank said, laughing. “Allison? You sure you don’t want to jump into this one?”

  The entire room turned to look at her. She cleared her throat.

  “Since I’m up next,” she said slowly, “and the one who wins this is going to be getting promoted, basically... do you really think it’s appropriate for us to tear into each other when we’ve obviously got so much to lose?”

  As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she clamped her lips shut, but it was obviously too late. Kate and Peter also went silent, staring at her. Frank, and Flashpoint Advertising, for that matter, always encouraged this kind of open blood sport. Only the fittest survived. She knew that.

  “Well, I’d hate for you to do something inappropriate,” Frank said, and she knew she’d screwed up.

  She felt the room grow warm, and she felt her stomach clench, since she knew it had nothing to do with the thermostat. The confrontation had made her nervous. She’d basically insulted her boss and his managerial style. Now it was her turn to step into the arena.

  She got up in front of the room, knowing that she’d start sweating and hyperventilating in a moment if she didn’t do something, fast.

  Focus on surfing.

  She took a deep breath. Cool water. No, make that frickin’ cold water, she thought with a grin. The waves pounding against the sand, pounding against her hard enough to cause an ice-cream headache. The silence as she was rolled underneath the swirling blue-green surf.

  Her breathing evened, and she smiled.

  “Anytime you’re ready,” Frank said, his tone dour.

  Immediately, she felt a sting of panic.

  You’re going to make an ass of yourself, I hate to say.

  She felt as if she’d been goosed, as Sean’s words of encouragement popped into her head. That was completely different, she thought, stunned. That was in front of a bunch of people she didn’t know. That was singing in public, for no money, no prestige, no purpose whatsoever.

  Of course, she hadn’t thought of it that way at the time. She’d panicked. Hyperventilated. Sweated.

  And then he’d been there, standing in front of her. Holding her hand. She focused on that sensation of his hand in hers.

  “Allison?” Now Frank’s note of impatience was mixed with a questioning concern.

  She focused with all her might on Sean standing next to her. Believing in her.

  “Well, here’s my concept…”

  As if in a haze, like she was singing at Sharkey’s, she pictured her presentation as if it were scrolling across the screen of the karaoke machine. She could almost smell Sean’s cologne. It was more calming to her than the sound of the ocean ever could be.

  She wasn’t robotic, even as she realized that she wasn’t at her best. She wrapped up her presentation, then looked at Frank and stuck her chin up.

  All right, boss of mine. Let me have it.

  “Okay, gang,” he said, stalking around the conference room, his voice intent. “Who wants to go first?”

  To her surprise, nobody volunteered.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Frank muttered. “Pete. Come on, I know you’ve got something to say.”

  Peter looked at Allison, and to her surprise, he looked... guilty? Puzzled? “Well, I’ve got a few questions....”

  They were valid, but they were also a lot gentler than his initial assault on Kate. Allison fielded them easily, still focusing on either her surfboard or Sean.

  Frank shook his head with an expression of disgust. “Kate? How about you?”

  Kate looked as if she’d set her jaw, and flipped through some notes. “Well, I don’t want to be inappropriate,” she said, almost mimicking Frank’s earlier sarcasm, but with a hint of hesitation.

  Allison sighed. “I didn’t mean that you were being inappropriate before,” she said, feeling inexplicably tired. “I meant that it probably wasn’t the greatest idea for us to rip into each other, you know, considering.”

  “What she’s saying is, it wasn’t your fault, it was mine,” Frank said. “Isn’t that right, Allison?”

  She looked at Frank, who was grinning smugly, having neatly twisted her words.

  At this point, she was too tired to care. “Yup. That’s pretty much what I was saying.”

  He blinked. Kate gaped.

  “Uh...you might want to rethink ending it with a graph,” Kate finally stammered out.” But otherwise, it was a good presentation.”

  “Thanks,” Allison said, then looked at Frank.

  Slowly, to her surprise, a smile crossed Frank’s face. “Damn, Allison. You must have ice water in your veins. I don’t know a single other executive that would have the balls to call me out on my managerial style in a team meeti
ng.”

  She shrugged. It was rather like dealing with a bear—if she tried to apologize or turn tail, he’d probably tear her to shreds.

  “That’s the kind of gutsiness we’re going to need to land the account,” he pronounced, and she forced herself not to let out an explosive breath of relief. “You’re point person on this presentation.”

  “Thanks,” she said, working on a Mona Lisa smile even as she felt like bolting for the nearest exit.

  “Of course, it’s going to need polishing,” he stated. “You’re going to need to put in a hell of a lot of overtime to whip this thing into shape. You’re going to be eating, breathing and dreaming this thing.”

  The rest of the team were looking at each other, obviously unsurprised by the turn of events.

  “I thought Kate and Peter had some really good concepts,” Allison heard herself say, and the grumbling stopped immediately, as if somebody had hit the Mute button.

  Hello. What did I just say?

  The rest of the team was staring at her, as if they, too, couldn’t believe that she’d said it. These meetings were winner take all. It was as if she was trying to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. And what was up with that, exactly?

  Frank hobbled, nonplussed. “Uh...well, yes. I think that goes without saying.”

  And usually does, Allison realized for the first time. “If we’re all agreed on my concept,” she said, “I’d love to have Kate and Peter’s assistance. Really make it a team effort.”

  Kate sat up a little straighten Peter didn’t even try to disguise his look of bafflement.

  “Um...okay,” Frank said. “We’ll talk about it later. You guys will want to get to work.”

  The rest of the team filed out, and Allison headed for her office, feeling clammy and weak-kneed. She felt like a fraud. She’d gotten what she wanted, but the thought of eating, breathing and dreaming about the project was enough to make her want to pass out. So she’d decided to throw a bone to her opponents, and had consequently made it sound as if she didn’t have what it took to take charge. Not exactly the kind of image that she wanted to project for a promotion.

  She’d panicked. Gotten nervous. Been on the very edge of an anxiety attack. And the only thing that had saved her sanity hadn’t been surfing.

  It had been Sean.

       

  AT SEVEN O’CLOCK on Monday night, Sean had already closed Tubes down and had been waiting in his living room for the past forty-five minutes. He had grabbed some dinner with Oz, some take-out food, but he’d barely touched it. When he did get home, he made sure that the living room was perfectly clean, he’d pushed the coffee table out of the way. Then he’d taken a shower and changed his clothes.

  If any of the guys had seen him, they would have ribbed him mercilessly, but then again, they hadn’t experienced what he’d experienced on Saturday. That kiss had practically paralyzed him. No way does a woman kiss a man like that if she’s not interested in him. That wasn’t a random-occurrence kiss. That was a full-bore, all-systems-go, I’m-so-into-you kiss. He’d had several of those, although none that rivaled the intensity of Saturday’s “kisstravaganza.”

  It figured, he thought with a grin. Anything that Allison wound up doing would be done with intensity.

  At the time, he’d been too floored to really pursue it.. .and she’d frankly been too embarrassed. He knew that from when he called her the next day. She was also a little too inebriated on Saturday for him to do much more than enjoy what she was offering, and wait for a better time to act on what he now knew.

  The time to act was tonight. He was going to ask Allison Robbins out on a date.

  He was a little nervous, but not nearly as nervous as he could have been. It was a relief, not just to know that she was interested, but to realize that it wasn’t one-sided. He’d felt foolish long enough, and more foolish over Allison than he had over any woman in years. So tonight, he was going to take the next step. He’d ask her to dinner. Someplace special, maybe. And he’d keep teaching her, naturally.

  Considering all the elements up in the air in his life, what with Tubes shutting down, it probably wasn’t the best timing. Still, he didn’t have any control over that. He did have control over this—and he was going to ask her out. She’d done everything but wear a T-shirt saying that she wanted him, and he knew he sure as hell wanted her.

  There was a knock on his door, and he jumped off the sofa like a jackrabbit. He forced himself to calm down before opening the door.

  Allison was there, smiling shyly. “Hi, Sean.”

  Before he could say anything, he heard another voice. “Mr. Gilroy. Nice to see you.”

  He felt his libido drop from a nice medium-rev to stone-cold zero.

  “Um...hi, Mrs. Tilson,” he said. “Is there anything wrong? I haven’t been too loud or anything?”

  “No, no. Nothing like that. I hope you don’t mind,” she said, although her voice indicated she didn’t particularly care if he minded or not. “Allison asked if I’d like to join her, and see how the lessons were progressing.”

  He looked at Allison, who for whatever reason seemed to be avoiding his gaze. “Did she, now?”

  “I just thought it’d be nice,” Allison said in that high, fast- paced, breathy voice she used when she was really nervous. He remembered her slipping into it before he’d interviewed with Mrs. Tilson the first time around. “I mean, I hardly get a chance to see Aunt Claire, and I’m over here quite a bit now, so no reason not to kill two birds with one stone, and besides, she’s always been a bit curious.. .and I think it’s a good way for you two to get to know each other besides...”

  He walked up to her, and he swore he could see her hold her breath. “Relax,” he whispered.

  She didn’t react, didn’t even glare at him, just stared at the floor.

  Uh-oh. He’d deliberately tried for a hot button, to try to jar her out of whatever weird frenzy of nerves she was currently cycling in. For her to just pass on the opportunity must mean that she was well and truly freaked out. And the fact that she’d brought Mrs. Tilson over couldn’t be promising.

  He frowned. So much for his “kisstravaganza” theory, he thought with a mental sigh of frustration. Still, a woman couldn’t fake a kiss like that. She might be nervous, might be embarrassed. And she probably didn’t know how he felt.

  “So, how does this lesson progress? And indoors? I thought you’d need to be in the water,” Mrs. Tilson said, her voice crisp but curious.

  He glanced at Mrs. Tilson, who was staring at the two of them intently. Of course, he was going to have a hell of a time showing Allison how he felt, with Mrs. Tilson right there, watching him like a hawk.

  He glanced at Allison. “Why don’t we start with stretches and warm-ups. Mrs. Tilson, if you’d like to have a seat on my futon, make yourself comfortable.”

  Mrs. Tilson took a glance at his admittedly old futon. “I get the feeling I can do one or the other but not both,” she said, but the little hint of humor in her voice suggested she was teasing. It was a hard call, though. She chose to sit at his small kitchen table instead. The straight-backed chair probably seemed more like her own furniture, he supposed.

  He tried to ignore the fact that he had an audience, and moved Allison to her pop-ups. She still wasn’t looking at him. He could practically feel the embarrassment coming off of her like a cloud. “Okay. We’re going to focus specifically on balance.” He grinned. “Let’s see if we can’t find your sweet spot today.”

  “I beg your pardon.” This, from Mrs. Tilson.

  He sighed. “It’s just an expression,” he said.

  She sat up straighten “For what?”

  “Center of gravity,” he said with a hint of irritation, although he noticed a small smirk hovering on Allison’s lips. “Find that funny, huh?”

  She finally, finally looked up at him. Their gazes locked, and he smiled at her... a full, warm smile.

  Her eyes widened, and then she sta
red back at the floor.

  He sighed. Okay, they were getting nowhere at this rate.

  It went on like that for half an hour, until the sheer frustration of the situation had his muscles cemented in knots. Mrs. Tilson kept making helpful comments: “Why does she have to do that?” “Allison, you’re not standing properly. Sean, would you go ahead and show her? He said don’t look at the floor!” He thought the lady was nice enough, but if she kept back-seat coaching, he might be tempted to strangle her. Finally, sweating like he’d just jogged around the block, he gave up.

  “I think that’s enough for one night,” he said.

  Allison was sweating, too, and she let out a sigh of relief. “Yeah.”

  “You’re ready to head back into the water,” he said. “So just let me know when you’ll be available for some sunlight surf time, and I’ll check the tide table.”

  He turned to see she was staring right at him, no longer embarrassed or hiding. “Really? Back in the water?”

  “You’re practicing, you’re doing well. Mrs. Tilson’s right. You’d be better off learning in the water at this point.” He shrugged. “It’ll be cold, but you can handle it. I’ll just make sure I get you some booties.”

  “Okay! That’s great! No… that’s fantastic!” Her smile was wide and dazzling, and for a split second, it looked as if she wanted to throw herself into his arms for a grateful hug. In fact, his body tensed in anticipation of just that, but she threw a quick, wary glance at Mrs. Tilson, and just stood there, shifting her weight from one foot to another. “Well. I guess I’d better be getting Aunt Claire back, and then I’ve got a bunch of work I still have to do tonight. Thanks for the lesson, Sean.”

  “We’ll pick up where we left off tomorrow,” he said, not letting her off the hook that easily.

  She bit her lip, and nodded. “I’ll let you know when I can get some time to hit the waves,” she said with a nervous laugh.