Keeping Mr. Right Now: A Kisses in the Sand Novel (Entangled Bliss)

by Robin Bielman

“SHE’s founders are pretty conservative,” the reporter said. “Think they can forgive your wild past and put their faith in you?”

  “I, uh…I think their interest in me answers that question.”

  “In order to succeed competitively, though, you have to be intensely focused on your career. Do you have what it takes to balance your life as a surfer with your new humanitarian goals?”

  Zane took a look around the quiet room. “I think I do. Surfing consumes most of my life, but the more I succeed there, the more I’ll be able to…” He paused and cleared his throat. “The harder I work at surfing, the more chances I’ll have to make a difference and bring attention to my philanthropic work.”

  “Sophie,” the reporter said, nearly stopping her heart. “Any truth to the rumor that, given your background, you’re helping Zane with the mental aspect of the sport?”

  Stunned by the question, Sophie looked at Zane, then Bryce and Danny. The three of them looked equally surprised. How had anyone found out about her past?

  “Zane doesn’t need my help. He’s connected to the sport in ways I can’t even comprehend. He’s a great example of how surfing offers equal parts lifestyle, sport, and spiritual pursuit. What he feels in the water is based on experience and sensory stimuli that I’m not familiar with. He’s reached the level he has all on his own.”

  The reporter nodded and turned around. “Zane, can you describe your upbringing and how it developed your philanthropic goals? Forgive my cynicism, but you were a high school dropout and your father was unsupportive, so I’m wondering where these sensibilities and morals are coming from.”

  Sophie’s jaw clenched as anger thrummed through her. She thought she’d made it clear that those sorts of questions were off the table.

  Zane’s eyes met hers, and she wasn’t sure if it was irritation or embarrassment that clouded their depths, but she looked at him with confidence, certain he could answer this question with success.

  A few moments of silence passed, and she almost spoke up to end the interview, but then Zane turned his attention to the group and started talking, and everything he said sounded perfect. At least to her. She’d swear she heard her brain sputter in relief.

  He handled the questions that followed, too, and she hoped he saw the pride in her eyes whenever he glanced in her direction. Hearing strength in his voice, she let her thoughts slip back to the question that had been directed to her.

  She’d been quoted before in small medical journals and interviewed for her local paper, but never put on the spot like that. She hadn’t realized her brief public appearances with Zane had warranted a background check. Small towns had inquisitive eyes and ears everywhere, she guessed.

  And she hoped their interest didn’t hurt either of their careers.

  Chapter Eight

  “I hope I didn’t blow it.” Zane paced around the empty living room, too amped up to stop moving. He fisted and flexed his hands at his sides.

  “You did fine,” Danny said. “And the guy’s local. Whatever he prints isn’t going to reach far.”

  “He’s young, eager. He wanted to see how hard he could push you,” Bryce said. “But you didn’t push back, and everyone in the room noticed.”

  Yeah, because he didn’t have the words. Zane jabbed his fingers through his hair. The personal questions the reporter had thrown at him had taken him by such painful surprise that Zane couldn’t think of one intelligent thing to say. It was like his head had been stuffed with mothballs. “The ambassador for SHE isn’t supposed to talk like he has his head up his ass.”

  “I’d say it was only partially up.”

  Zane glared at Bryce.

  “You did fine,” Danny reiterated, also scowling at Bryce. “You were real, Zane. Authentic. You speak to everyone without judgment, and that’s the kind of person SHE wants.”

  “I’m not sure that cocky reporter is going to believe that.”

  “Would you quit pacing? You’re wearing down the floor,” Bryce said.

  Zane stopped and heard a sound come from the direction of the kitchen. He frowned and gestured with his thumb over his shoulder.

  “Sophie’s still here. She offered to finish the cleanup so Elena could head home,” Bryce said.

  Sophie. She’d given the best response of the night. He’d been floored by her answer. Grateful. His heart full of admiration. He hadn’t realized she’d stuck around.

  “You guys should go,” he said. “I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

  “Zane,” Bryce said in warning.

  “Go,” he answered in a tone that said not to give him shit right now.

  Bryce and Danny looked at each other and got up. Zane walked them out. “Do me a favor and keep things light between you two,” Bryce said.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You want to ‘yes sir’ me then—”

  Zane shut the door and locked it. Bryce didn’t need to worry. With his sorry mood, he had no plans to seduce Sophie. He just wanted to be with her.

  He leaned against the archway to the kitchen and took pleasure in watching her for a minute. She’d put her hair up in a ponytail, but a few tendrils curled around her neck. Her feet were bare, the heels she’d seemed none too comfortable wearing placed perfectly side by side under the dining table. And she was humming as she wiped the countertops.

  She turned and startled. Her hand flew to her chest. “You just scared the junk out of me!”

  Two seconds flat. That’s all it had taken for her to relax every muscle in his body. “Junk?”

  All the pretty color flooded her cheeks again. “You have a problem with junk?”

  “No. Not at all.” He grinned.

  “Junk happens to be the word my grandmother uses.”

  “It’s a good word.”

  “Are…are you okay?” she asked, concern and care in her sweet voice. “I’m so sorry about that reporter. He knew the rules, but I thought you did great.”

  “I’m better now. And no need to apologize.” What exactly was it about this woman that hurled all the junk in his head away?

  She blessed him with a small but beautiful smile. “Well, I’m done here, so I should be going.” She folded the dish towel in her hand and laid it on the counter.

  “Stay.” He stepped into the room.

  “What?” she whispered.

  “I want you to stay. Hang out with me. Talk some more.” He stood in front of her now.

  “Umm…” She put her hand on his chest, to keep him at a distance or simply touch him, he wasn’t sure. “I talked to Jim, the high school athletic director, on his way out, and he’s going to touch base with Bryce and bring the surf team to see you. I mentioned how much kids doing the sport meant to you. I also may have talked loud enough for that reporter to hear us.”

  He stared down at her. Speechless. Women didn’t give to him. They took.

  “You’re wishing I hadn’t done that.” She pulled her hand back. “I can fix it. I can grab one of the other pro surfers. No worries.”

  “That’s not it,” he finally managed to say and backed away before he kissed her like she’d never been kissed before. Which would lead him to do other things he’d been telling himself were a bad idea. If he’d thought just kissing her would be enough, he was wrong. “I’m more than happy to meet with the team.”

  “But?”

  “No buts.” He’d already shared too damn much with her. He hadn’t believed he had the capacity to let anyone in like he’d done with Sophie, and telling her how much her caring meant to him was foolish. Those bonehead feelings were riskier than the stunts he pulled in the water. Bryce called his daredevil displays tricks from the Evel Knievel playbook.

  This thing with Sophie felt ten times more dangerous.

  She studied him like she’d done so often, and he was about to forget the idea of spending more time with her and see her back to her hotel when she said, “So, how about a game of checkers?” She walked past him and slipped down the narrow hallway t
hat led to a maid’s quarters. He heard a door creak open and shut. She reappeared a moment later holding a small leather case. “I noticed a bunch of games in the pantry closet earlier. Come on.”

  He followed her into the family room, at a total loss for what to say or what to think.

  Scratch that. He was thinking. About the winner getting whatever he or she wanted.

  “I have to warn you. I’m pretty good,” she said, sitting on the couch and putting the game on the coffee table.

  “Yeah?” He sat across from her.

  “My dad taught me when I was little, and we still play whenever I’m over at my parents’ house. We always do a little tournament with my mom.”

  “Are you over there a lot?”

  “Every Sunday night for dinner and Wednesday nights for bunco.” She set the small round black and red game pieces on the checkered board.

  Zane had no idea what bunco was. “So Sunday night is checkers night?”

  “Yes.”

  He nodded, even though she wasn’t paying him any attention. Once she had all the pieces in place, she looked up. “What?”

  “You’re close to your dad?”

  “Yes,” she said again, her eyes soft and sympathetic. “Okay, so I’ll go first…”

  A little luck awarded him the first game. She took the second. Now they were neck and neck for best two out of three. He’d never been big on board games, but he’d play all night with her. Every time she captured one of his pieces, she let out a tiny whoop that rang so elated, the corners of his mouth lifted of their own free will.

  “You don’t own a house anywhere?” she said, continuing their conversation about each other’s living arrangements.

  “No. Never really saw the benefit when I’m gone so much.”

  “If you did buy something, though, where would it be?” She made her next move.

  He took in his surroundings. He’d rented this house for the past three years, and this time the owners had mentioned they were interested in selling. If he got the gig with SHE and skipped a tour event here or there, he could see himself spending more time in White Strand. At the very least, he could settle in for January and February when there weren’t any tour dates. His mom and sister would be over the moon.

  “I’m thinking right here.” He lifted a game piece.

  “Here, here? Like this house?”

  “Yeah.” Made his jump.

  “It is beautiful.” She fell back against the couch cushions. “My entire apartment could fit inside the living room and kitchen.”

  “Size matters to you?” He finished his move and nabbed two of her pieces in the process.

  “Doesn’t it matter to all girls?” The tease in her voice caught him off guard, and his gaze jumped from the board to her blush and the way her teeth were sinking into her bottom lip. She’d surprised herself with the innuendo, and once again, her innocence upped his interest.

  “I don’t know,” he said, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. “You tell me.”

  “I can’t.” She sank deeper into the couch, like she hoped it might swallow her.

  “Why not?”

  “Because I shouldn’t have said that.” She covered her mouth with the back of her hand.

  “Meaning you’re not an expert on size, or you don’t want to share what you know with me? As a guy, I’ve got to say, I’d love to hear your perspective.”

  She shook her head.

  He lifted one shoulder. “Okay then. Your turn.” The last thing he wanted was to make her uncomfortable. She wanted to banter with him, he could tell, but she floundered on the follow-up.

  “I forget myself around you,” she said, lifting away from the couch pillow.

  Every time she made these admissions, his respect for her grew. He let people see only what he wanted them to see and figured he pretty much got that in return. Even the very short list of his family and friends never saw everything. Sophie had, though, and she gifted him with more of herself in return.

  “I like that.”

  “You don’t need to say such things when no one’s around.”

  “Need to?” What was she talking about? He never said things he didn’t mean.

  “I know you’re just being nice because…well, you’re a nice guy. But I’m nothing like the girls you usually hang out with.” She drew in her bottom lip and dropped her gaze to the floor.

  He reached over the coffee table and gently lifted her chin. “You’re right. Your smile is warmer. When your body is close to mine, all my muscles twitch in the best possible way. And your eyes. Your eyes remind me of the tropical waters in the Maldives and I want to swim in them constantly. When you look at me like I’m a man and not a pro surfer you’re out to bag, that is beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

  Her lashes fluttered and her body shook. He wanted to wrap her in his arms, but if he did that, he’d be hard-pressed to stop there.

  “No one has ever noticed me like that,” she whispered.

  “I could say the same to you.”

  She gave him a shy smile and took her turn, keeping eye contact to a minimum for the rest of the game. They battled it out for bragging rights, but in the end, she won. She had a competitive edge to her he found damn appealing.

  Not ready for the night to end, he said, “Don’t move,” and got to his feet.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I thought we’d play one of my favorite games now.” He remembered seeing a deck of cards in one of the drawers in the kitchen.

  “Oh. Okay.” She closed up the checkerboard. “But then I really should get back. I’ve got a full day tomorrow.”

  “Fair enough.” He headed to the kitchen, grabbed the cards, and hurried back to the living room. “You ready for a little Go Fish?”

  She giggled. “I should’ve guessed. Yes, I’m ready.”

  He slid the cards out of the ordinary box, but the cards in his hands weren’t a regular deck. Sophie noticed at the same time because she said, “Uh, Zane, those don’t look like normal playing cards.”

  To keep his smile at bay, he chewed the inside of his cheek. One side of the card had the usual numbers, but it also had a “Naughty Truth or Dare” question. The other side had a cartoon of the backside of a man wearing a trench coat and flashing three monkeys—one monkey covering its eyes, the second its ears, and the third its mouth.

  “I, uh, yeah.” He couldn’t help laughing at the question on one of the cards in his hand. “Sorry, someone stuck this deck into the wrong box. I’ll go check for another one.”

  Sophie’s hand stopped him from putting the deck back inside the box. “That’s okay. We can still play, right? I see numbers.”

  Her hand trembled, just a tiny bit, but her gaze fixed right on him with determination. And who was he to deny her a game of Naughty Go Fish?

  “If you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure.” She scooted to the edge of the couch, her back straight, her hands pressed into her lap.

  Zane shuffled and dealt seven cards to each of them. He watched her fan hers out and rearrange them, her slim fingers delicate but capable, efficient. He wondered what else she could do with them. She also did some truth-or-dare silent reading if the deeper pink in her cheeks and neck were any indication.

  “Ladies first,” he said.

  She peeked at him over the top of her cards. “Have any sixes?”

  “Go fish. Have any tens?”

  “Go fish. Do you have any…twos?”

  He slowly handed over a two, making sure to do so with the dirty question side up so she could read what was on the card with him. He’d definitely like to truth-or-dare her this one.

  “Have any jacks?” she asked, her voice throaty as she slipped the two into the middle of her cards.

  “No.” He waited until she picked a card from the pile on the coffee table and looked up at him before he added, “And I think we should make this game a little more interesting.”

  “What did you have in
mind?”

  “How about when we ask for a card and get it, we also have to pick the truth-or-dare?” He wanted to know her better. Wanted to know things no one else knew, and this was his chance.

  “Okay,” she whispered. A little breathy. A lot sexy. He stirred behind his zipper. How would she sound if he hiked up that dress of hers and slid his thumb over her panties? Dipped his fingers underneath the material to touch her? Then lowered his head to taste her?

  “Have any aces?” he asked, his voice a little rough.

  She shook her head. “Have any sevens?”

  “Two of them.” He pulled them from his cards. “Truth or dare, sweetness?”

  “Truth,” she said without hesitation. She folded her cards in her lap and gave him her full attention.

  “Have you ever done a striptease for your special someone?”

  “No.” She took the sevens from him and let out a breath. “That was easy. Any fours?”

  “Go fish. Have any sixes?” He knew she did.

  She smiled. “Truth or dare?”

  “I’ll match your truth.”

  “What part of the opposite sex’s body do you find the most erotically fascinating?” She handed him the card.

  “Hmm.” He rubbed the back of his hand across his chin. “I find many parts of a woman’s body fascinating, but I’ll go with mouth to keep a PG rating here.”

  “You think I can only handle PG?” She crossed her arms over her chest and sounded offended. “Because you don’t have to be afraid of embarrassing me. I’m not that innocent, you know.”

  “Okay, truth or dare?” He eyed the cards in his hand.

  “Dare.”

  Now he had his pick of cards and that really wasn’t fair, but then with Sophie he couldn’t help himself. There was more than one dare he liked—lick someone’s ear, eat a small piece of fruit being held by someone else’s teeth—but he decided to go with, “Place a lipstick between your lips and write ‘kiss me’ on someone’s stomach.” He grinned, looked left and right, then back at her. “Guess that means me.”

  She tucked a stray curl of hair behind her ear. “Be right back.”

  He paid attention to her backside as she headed toward the kitchen. A few seconds later she reappeared with her bag in hand.