The Surfer Solution

by Cathy Yardley

  Oz seemed not to notice—or more likely, pretended not to notice. “February. I figure, in January I can get it spruced up a little, try to get the most money possible out of it. It’s in a really prime real-estate location. The broker said that it wouldn’t be any trouble getting a buyer.”

  “February?” Sean said, aghast. “That soon?”

  “I already said I’m sorry,” Oz grumbled.

  “No. No. That’s okay. You have to do what you’ve gotta do,” Sean said.

  Which meant that he had to do what he had to do. Whatever that was.

  “You look tired,” Oz said in a low voice. “You can leave early today. It’s been slow... I don’t expect a Christmas rush, or anything.”

  Sean nodded. “I’m teaching tonight, anyway,” he said, holding the vision of Allison as a lifeline.

  He always felt better when she was around. Now he’d have to figure out what he was going to do... and he had a deadline.

       

  “ALLISON? WAIT UP. I need to talk to you.”

  Allison was halfway down the hallway, headed toward her office, when Frank stopped her. “Um, okay,” she replied, forcing herself not to look at her watch. She’d promised Sean she’d see him tonight, only this time, it wasn’t going to be in the water...it was going to be at her house. There wasn’t going to be any Aunt Claire to provide a buffer. It was just going to be him, her and a monstrous amount of self- control that frankly she wasn’t quite sure she possessed. “Allison? Yo! Earth to Allison!”

  She blinked, and saw Frank beckoning impatiently from the doorway of his office.

  “Sorry,” she said quickly, hurrying over to him. “I was just...thinking of something.”

  Like Sean, standing there in just a towel against the backdrop of a gray winter sea...or the way his smile lit up his blue eyes...or the way his palm would brush against her...

  “Generally, I like to encourage thinking in my staff,” Frank rumbled, the irritation in his voice clear as a bell. “But I have to say, you’re thinking an awful lot lately, and I don’t see it translating into a smoother new business presentation. So what are you thinking about?”

  She schooled her expression to look properly contrite. At any other time, it wouldn’t be an act. She would be more than contrite, she’d be appalled that her work was not up to her own high, exacting standards, much less her boss’s.

  He’s right. What the hell are you thinking about?

  She’d managed to keep things on the level and professional with Sean, kept sex out of the equation entirely. And here she was, still acting like a complete and utter idiot who couldn’t focus on her job.

  “You can’t seem to be able to listen to a conversation from beginning to end. I ask you to make changes, and maybe half of what I ask for gets done. You’re more than losing your edge, kid... I feel like you’re losing ‘it’ entirely! You see my concerns?”

  “You know, actually, I don’t.”

  She heard the words coming out of her mouth as if some stranger had walked into the office and said them. She almost turned around to see if there was a smarmy, obviously unafraid-of-being-fired ventriloquist standing behind her.

  “Excuse me?” Frank said in a shocked tone.

  She took a deep breath, and tried somehow to get herself back on track. “Frank, can I be honest with you?”

  “What, you’re only starting now?”

  She swallowed hard. “I’m going through a lot right now.”

  “Ah. I see,” he said, and… she grimaced. Damn it if he didn’t look smug. “I figured it’d be something like that.”

  “Something like what?”

  “You’re having relationship trouble or something, aren’t you?”

  Her mouth dropped open at the sheer sexism of that statement. “How did you guess?” she said, her voice dripping sarcasm.

  He didn’t notice. “Well, you don’t talk about your private life much, and I didn’t think you were dating, but then, I never really asked. It’s your business,” he pronounced magnanimously, making her want to strangle him. “Still, when it starts to affect what could be one of the biggest promotions of my career, it becomes my business. So spill. What’s going on, and how can we fix it? I need you at one hundred percent.”

  “Are you kidding me with this?” she blurted out.

  “No,” he said, and he looked as if he was gritting his teeth. “Listen, I know my questions are invasive and awkward as all hell. But it really is affecting your work, kid. So if you can’t talk to me, you’re going to have to talk to somebody.” He paused. “Or I’m going to have to take you off the account. It’s pretty much as simple as that.”

  She processed that for a long minute. Then she took a deep breath. She considered telling him about the panic attacks. The surfing. The whole nine yards.

  “Let’s say, for just a second, that you’re right,” she said instead. “If it’s a relationship thing... what in the world could you possibly tell me to fix it?”

  Now he looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Would depend on the problem.”

  There was no way in hell she was telling her boss that she was obsessed with Sean Gilroy. “I can’t do this.”

  “Well, I’m serious. You’re going to have to do something,” he said.

  “Like what? Just get rid of him?” she spat.

  “Hell no!” Frank sounded aghast, and she stared at him in surprise. “This close to the presentation? The last thing I need is you knocked out of commission, all weepy and wrecked.”

  “Your concern is overwhelming,” she said softly.

  He rolled his eyes. “Sorry. I mean, any other time, I’d work on the whole sympathy thing,” he said. “But this account is too important.”

  “So what would you advise?” she said, freaked out by the weird turn of events.

  He pondered it for a second. “I’d say do whatever you can to keep it smooth sailing. And definitely keep yourself happy. Don’t tackle anything big until after the presentation.”

  “Don’t… tackle anything big,” she repeated, with a stunned chuckle.

  “You think it’s a joke, but I know women like you,” he said, obviously not even caring how un-PC he sounded. “You’ve got a huge project on your plate, and you think, hey, now’s the perfect time to dissect my relationship. You have ‘the talk.’ You ask about where you’re going. You make everything way more complicated than it needs to be.”

  “When I ought to be doing what, exactly?”

  “When you ought to just ride with it, enjoy it as much as you can and just...” He cleared his throat. “Well, if you were a guy, and if I hadn’t had the lawyers already talk to me, I’d say just enjoy the sex and leave the heavy stuff for Valentine’s Day like normal dysfunctional people.”

  She couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing.

  “There. Now you’re looking a little less shell-shocked,” he said, sounding satisfied. “So. About the revisions I asked for?”

  She took a deep breath. “Still being honest... Frank, you’re going a little nutso with the revisions. Just trust me, they’re going to be fine.”

  “They’re—”

  “They’re going to be fine,” she said in a firm voice.

  He stared at her, then to her surprise, he backed down. “They’d better be,” he conceded. “Okay, I’ll leave the revisions alone. Still, I’d like you to stay late to meet with the design team on the graphics they’re building around your concept. I’ll meet you at your office in a few minutes, so have your ideas ready, okay?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” She barely even registered his last statement. Instead, she was still focused on his last little epiphany.

  What if he’s right? Maybe you are just making it all too complicated.

  She knew that she was wildly attracted to Sean. She knew that it was distracting her beyond the point of reason. What she hadn’t considered was, maybe the fact that she hadn’t given in to it was what was making her so crazy.

  L
ike a cool mist, she slowly began to calm down. To her shock, she relaxed. She walked to her office, and it must’ve shown on her face, because Gary followed her in.

  “Wow. What happened?”

  “I think I just had a breakthrough,” she said, surprised at the enthusiasm in her voice.

  Frank knocked on her door. “Sorry, quicker than I thought. The design guys are ready to go right now, so I thought I’d collect you.”

  “I have to go,” she said.

  He looked at her. “But you just said this was okay.”

  “I can’t work late tonight, I forgot.”

  He shook his head. “Get this taken care of, Allison,” he warned.

  “It will be,” she said. “In fact, I’m going to take care of it right now.”

  Frank stood there for a second, staring at her, as if she might change her mind. When she just stared back, he finally gave up, walking away and muttering.

  Gary gaped at her. “You are so my heroine,” he said, approval rich in his voice. “I’ve never seen anybody stand up to him. Ever.”

  “Yeah, well, he can’t say he didn’t ask for it,” she said, still feeling a delicious euphoria start to thread through her system.

  She was going to solve her problem, she thought. Tonight’s lesson was going to teach her to relax for good.

       

  SEAN SHOWED UP at Allison’s place. It had been a while since he’d been there—was it just, what, a week and a half ago since he’d been stranded on her steps for forty minutes? It seemed like longer. It seemed like he’d known her for months. Maybe years.

  At the risk of sounding desperately melodramatic, it felt like he’d wanted her forever.

  The thing was, he would take things as they came. He knew Allison was now trying to do the same. And he was taking Mrs. Tilson’s advice, of all things. He was showing Ally that she did indeed want him. She was a type-A stress case. She probably needed all kinds of reassurances. She needed a game plan. She needed to proceed with caution. And, all things considered and his hormone-riddled body notwithstanding, he was okay with caution. He generally had a slow, easy approach to life, himself.

  With that in mind, he walked up to her front door. Tonight, he was going to work with her on her arm strength...basic weight training, plenty of paddling. He was going to see what he could do about stirring up those hormones of hers, he thought, remembering their last encounter at the beach. He was going to slowly and incrementally show her exactly what she was missing. And then, maybe, he’d give her the tiniest kiss on the cheek.

  Oh yeah. By Valentine’s Day, at the latest, she'll be more than ready to start dating. He grinned with confidence and knocked on her door.

  She opened it, and his heart stopped.

  She was wearing a gray tank top that molded to her body like spray paint and a pair of sweatpants that rode low on her pelvis. That glorious blond hair of hers was up in a high ponytail, emphasizing that perfect face.

  “Well, hello there,” she greeted in a purring voice. “Want to come in?”

  “Um, sure. Hi.” At a loss, he walked inside, watching as she shut the door behind him...and locked it. He smiled, trying to get his stride back. “So, are you ready to work out?”

  She surveyed him like a cat eyeing a small flightless bird. “Boy, am I ever.”

  Suddenly, his whole “going slow” scenario seemed ever so slightly out of place.

  “Today, we’re going to work on your paddling,” he said, deciding to downshift into the lesson plan. She was still interested in surfing, and teaching was something he’d done for so many years, it felt like a security blanket. “You’re going to need to develop some serious upper-body strength if you want to become a true surfer.”

  “You’ve got a great upper body,” she noted.

  He felt himself get warm, and it wasn’t from the way she was checking him out—although that helped. No, he got the feeling he was perilously close to blushing.

  Who was this, and where did she put the real Allison? This was not the same woman who had brought her elderly godmother over to his apartment to make sure there was a buffer zone between them. And it wasn’t the sweetly shy female who had deliberately not peeked when he’d taunted her by stripping out of his wet suit. No, this was a woman on the prowl.

  Not that he was necessarily complaining, he thought as his body started the sequence of all systems go. It was just, well, he wasn’t expecting it. A guy like himself needed a little warm-up time.

  She walked over to him, staring up into his eyes. “So, how did you want me?”

  He felt his mouth go dry.

  A very little warm-up time.

  He circled her, and she just kept staring. “I was thinking of some light-weights stuff,” he said. “Arm curls, some resistance stuff, that kind of thing. Do you have weights?”

  She shook her head, her eyes like melted chocolate.

  “Anything we can use as weights? Heavy books, paint cans... anything like that?”

  “Nope.” She was practically pouting.

  He shifted, smiling. “Well, how are we going to have you work out, then?”

  Her responding smile was downright wicked.

  He swallowed, hard.

  “Why don’t we back-burner the weight training for the time being,” she said. “I think I’ve got a better idea.”

  “Really?” He was starting to get some better ideas, himself.

  Instead, she led him over to the couch and sat him down. “I think maybe it’s time I addressed something important,” she said, sitting next to him.

  He could smell her uniquely intoxicating scent—something delicate, flowery, and still shot through with hints of something exotic and spicy. He couldn’t help but lean a little closer to her, and noticed she wasn’t backing away. “What was it you wanted to talk about?” He was having a hard time staying focused.

  “I want you,” she said.

  He choked on a surprised laugh. “I’m sorry,” he said immediately. “It’s not that it’s funny. It’s just… I wasn’t expecting it.”

  “You weren’t?” For a second, the sex-vixen facade fell away, and she looked like pure Allison: puzzled, intent, problem-solving.

  He wanted her even more because of it. Smiling, he pushed a stray lock of hair away from her jawline, stroking the delicate skin on her neck. “I suspected, I hoped. I just...you didn’t seem all that comfortable with it.”

  “I wouldn’t say I’m necessarily comfortable now,” she said in the cutely grumpy way he was learning to crave.

  “Seemed pretty comfortable to me,” he said. “When you opened the door, I thought my blood pressure was going to skyrocket.”

  She smiled, now with a hint of mischief. “I thought about not saying anything and just jumping you.”

  He got the mental image just seconds after she said it. His body, already primed, went hard in a rush.

  “You don’t say?” he squeaked, then cleared his throat. “Well, why didn’t you?” he continued in his normal deep voice.

  She laughed. “But I thought I’d be pushing my luck.”

  “Please. Go ahead. Push all you like.”

  Her eyes glinted, and before he knew what was going on, she was straddling his lap. “How does this strike you?” she murmured, then slowly, deliberately, started kissing his neck.

  He groaned, leaning back as that little rosebud mouth of hers went to work. “Strikes me like a bolt of lightning,” he muttered, his hands gripping her hips then smoothing their way up her back. She shivered, and he felt like his blood was boiling.

  He waited until she edged a little closer, pulling back slightly to look into his eyes. Then slowly, deliberately, he kissed her, gently, the way he’d always wanted to. Neither of them were drunk, impaired or in any way compromised. She knew exactly what she was getting into, and so did he.

  He brushed his lips against hers, coaxing them to part, then he nipped at her full lower lip, drinking in her gasp of pleasure. This w
as going to be fun. He could do this for a couple of hours or so, he thought.

  That is, until her hips shifted, and it was all he could do not to give in to the hunger and take her right there.

  “This is as good as I thought it would be...oh, yes,” she breathed when he sucked at an earlobe and she pressed her chest against his. “This is better.”

  He couldn’t think for a while after that. He pulled her tight against him, kissing her madly. He didn’t know at what point they shifted, from her straddling him to the two of them stretched out on her couch. She tugged her ponytail loose, and he had his hands buried in the silkiness of her hair even as she seemed ready to devour him.

  It all felt amazing, powerful. Overwhelming.

  Something’s hinky here.

  For a quiet, internal voice, sometimes his conscience could yell. He tried very hard to ignore the implications, especially when Allison was lying on top of him, a compact ball of fire, trying her damnedest to bum him alive.

  Trying her damnedest.

  He sighed, and nudged her away from him for a second.

  She jumped, startled. “What? What’s the matter? Is something wrong?”

  And there it was.

  She was talking in that high, breathy, hundred-miles-an- hour voice. The one that signified she was nervous. She wanted him—he didn’t doubt that—but at the same time, she was approaching this the way she approached everything else. Full tilt, as if she’d die if she didn’t give a thousand percent. He sighed. “Slow down, sweetie.”

  “Slow down?” She repeated the words as if she couldn’t believe he was saying them. He didn’t blame her. He had trouble believing it, himself. “But...don’t you want to...”

  He waited for her to finish her sentence, then realized she wouldn’t. But then he saw her gaze dart nervously toward the hallway that led to her bedroom.

  “Let me preface this with the fact that you have to believe that I want to.” He kissed her again, gently, then less gently when she gave in, molding herself to him. He groaned, and tore his mouth away, breathing heavily. “You’ve gotta believe that one,” he rasped.