The Summer of Jake

by Rachel Bailey

  “I told you in the café you could still have one favor, as well as our agreed terms, in exchange for my makeover. Have you thought of one?”

  Remember blond Scarlett.

  “I can’t say that I have. Maybe dinner tonight could count?”

  “Nope. It has to be something you choose before it happens and something you really want. This dinner would hardly be something you really want, would it?”

  I felt the flutter of a blush creeping up my neck. You might be surprised by what I want, Jake Maxwell. “I can’t think of anything I want as a favor, but I promise I’ll give it some thought.”

  He made a mock-stern face. “Don’t think I’ll forget. I promised you a favor, and I’ll deliver.”

  Hmm, now that had some possibilities—Jake delivering…

  Then, as if from a distance, I heard Jake ask for news on Mindy Mini, snapping me out of the fantasy.

  “No news, Adam’s been really busy. He said he’d look at her tomorrow and give me a call.”

  “It didn’t look that good when the tow truck took it away.”

  “She’ll be fine.” Mindy was like a friend, had been since I’d bought her at seventeen. I knew it was silly, but I wasn’t prepared to contemplate anything less than her full recovery. I injected all my confidence into a smile, as much for my own reassurance as his.

  He probably thought I was insane to care so much about an old car, and I tried not to let it matter to me…not to let Jake’s opinion matter.

  After dinner, he drove me home and walked me to my door. “Thanks, Annalise, I had a great night. Beer, fish, and stimulating company.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Nice to see where I rate. Anyway, I had a great night, too.”

  “With me and my uncouth manners?” He grinned, and I melted. Even if he had been bad, who’d choose manners over that grin?

  “Your manners were great. I could even say I was proud to be there with you,” I teased.

  “I could definitely say I was proud to be there with you,” he said with a husky note in his voice.

  He was close enough that I could see the beginnings of stubble roughening his chin. Even dressed for dinner, Jake seemed slightly rumpled. His eyes darkened, and his breath seemed to come faster. I moistened my lips, and his gaze tracked the movement. For a sweet moment I had the feeling he was going to kiss me, but my imagination was plainly in overdrive, because he stepped back and ran his fingers through his hair as he said, “I was thinking that when I visit Mum and Kelly, you might come, too. You haven’t seen them for a while.”

  I blinked to reorient myself. His words brought back the warm-fuzzy-Kelly-Eden feeling. “That’d be great. When are you going?”

  “I’ll call them, maybe see if Kel and Adam will meet us over at Mum’s. Is Saturday good for you?”

  I could already feel the excitement bubbling in my belly. “It’s fine.”

  “Good,” he said. “I’ll call them and let you know when I’ll pick you up. And don’t forget we’re meeting Tracey, my stock manager, tomorrow.” He looked over my face, pausing on my mouth again, and my pulse jumped up a notch, tangling with the Kelly-Eden fuzzies, creating a bizarre jumble of excitement.

  His lips parted a touch, and my whole body went on alert—my gaze locked on his mouth like a lip-seeking-missile. Was he going to say something? Draw breath? Kiss me? Maybe I hadn’t been imagining things a minute ago…

  Then all pulse-pounding and internal-bubbling ceased and desisted as Jake turned to walk back to his car.

  “’Night, Annalise,” he called over his shoulder.

  “’Night, Jake.” My voice was barely above a whisper.

  Even the knowledge I was going to see Kelly again in two days couldn’t ease the pang I felt watching Jake leave.

  …

  Jake

  Early the next morning, I surveyed the beach. North Bondi was farther from the resorts and cafés and, being a weekday, there were only a few people around. And eight people in the class I’d come to watch.

  I looked over at Gerry, my first surf coach, substitute father-figure, and first employee all rolled into one. The Jake Maxwell Surf School had been my initial venture into business, and it seemed natural as it grew that I employ Gerry to oversee the other coaches I needed to take on. For Gerry, previously a sole operator, it’d been a chance to move into coaching coaches, a whole new challenge.

  Gerry still taught his share of classes—he always said that it was the combination of the two aspects he enjoyed the most.

  Moving closer, I listened to Gerry’s description of wave sets. Gerry’s expression as he spoke held the same enthusiasm it had when he’d given the explanation to me, almost fifteen years earlier.

  How did he manage to hold the passion?

  I’d decided to drop in on the class after a sleepless night, spent replaying the dinner with Annalise. How would she have reacted if I’d kissed her at her front door? I’d been tempted—sweet Jesus had I been tempted—but she’d made it clear that morning I wasn’t to flirt or touch. And, thing was, she was 100 percent right. So why had I been lying awake at dark o’clock this morning thinking about it? Imagining it in Technicolor detail.

  After a lot of tossing and turning, I’d finally identified the emotion I’d been feeling lately. Yearning. An overwhelming sense of yearning. But for what?

  Sure, I’d wanted to kiss her, but the yearning wasn’t only about kissing or Annalise. There was something else. It was a feeling I’d had before, yet never this strongly. A feeling that crept into my consciousness when I was feeling low and remained there, hidden and unnamed.

  “Jake!” I looked up to see Gerry was motioning me over. “This is Jake Maxwell, for those of you who don’t recognize him.” I smiled and made a half-wave to the group. “So, Jake, you here to watch or help?”

  I looked around the group of expectant faces. Actually, I had no clue why I was there, but helping out seemed as good an idea as any.

  “Sure, what do you need?” There was some excited murmuring in the group. I’d never fully gotten used to the fame thing, despite growing up with it.

  “Great,” Gerry said, “we’ve got three new students today, so while I spend some time on the sand with them, why don’t you take the others out for a ride.”

  I nodded and waited until Gerry and the new students moved farther down the beach.

  “Hi. As you know, I’m Jake. How about we start with you giving me your names and letting me know where you’re at with your surfing.”

  In turn, each of the five students gave me a quick rundown.

  “Okay,” I said when they’d finished. “Grab your boards and head for the water so I can have a look at your technique. Just have fun. I’ll stay on the sand, and, after you’ve caught a wave, come by and chat. I’ll see if I can give you some pointers. Let’s go.”

  There was good surf, so for the next hour I watched the students catch wave after wave, noting problems in their movements to give them something to work on for their next wave.

  When Gerry and his three students walked back, I was grinning so wide I thought I’d stretch my face. That felt good. I waved at the students to come back and kept chatting to the one who’d caught the most recent wave.

  Once they were reassembled, Gerry spoke to the class. “I think we’re all grateful Jake could come down today, aren’t we?” There was a round of applause and a few cheers. “So what do you say we end the lesson with a demonstration of how it should be done? We might have to give him some encouragement, though.”

  I blew out a breath. This wasn’t what I’d come for—I hadn’t meant this to be about me. I looked around as the students called an assortment of encouragements, the loudest being, “come on” and “have a go”, then fell into a chant of “Jake, Jake, Jake” while clapping in time.

  I looked over at Gerry, who nodded, then I shrugged. I’d had a great time over the last hour with these people. A demonstration was the least I could give in return.

  “Ca
n I borrow your board, Gerry?”

  “Sure can.” Gerry handed it over to cheers from the students.

  After pulling my shirt over my head, I jogged down to the water’s edge and paddled out past the breakers, letting the energy of the ocean seep through my skin and calm my soul. Taking a deep breath, I evaluated the swells.

  The first wave I caught wasn’t large, and I had to work hard to make it in. Not a bad thing, since it showed what could be done with a small wave.

  The second wave was a beauty, allowing me to play around with it more, and the crowd showed their appreciation through whoops of pleasure and yelling my name.

  At the end of the ride, I picked up the board and walked across the sand to the group. I was greeted with slaps on the back and glowing faces.

  “Jeez,” one of the students said, “that was awesome. You must’ve been born some sort of surfing genius.”

  “Nah,” I said. “Most of the credit goes to your teacher here.” I punched Gerry on the shoulder. “Taught me everything I know. And not just about surfing.” I grinned at Gerry, who rolled his eyes.

  The class gradually dispersed until only Gerry and I were left. “Any special reason for the visit? Not that I’m complaining—you’ve just motivated them more than I could’ve.”

  “Somehow, I don’t think you need any help in that department, Gerry. You managed to motivate me just fine when I was competing. And you kept me out of trouble. Looking back, Adam and I must have been a handful.”

  Gerry gave a sage nod. “Your mother did most of that, for both you boys. She’s a pretty impressive woman. But I didn’t need to motivate you much. You always had your own inner drive and pushed yourself to the limit—when it suited you. That’s more important than talent.”

  I grinned. “Lucky I had both then.”

  “Shame about the humility, though.” Gerry gave me a friendly slap on the back. “Even so, you still haven’t answered the question. Any special reason for the visit?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe I’m looking for something.”

  “You find it?”

  “I think I’ve found part of it. Problem is, I don’t know what the rest of it is.”

  Gerry squinted, looking at the clouds gathering out to sea before turning his gaze back to me. “You’ve always been searching for it, Jake. But you aren’t going to find this answer the way you’ve done everything else in your life.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You mess around too much. Always have a cocky smile on your face. You’ve managed to get away with that in surfing and your business, but not for this. This is going to be harder, and you’re going to have to make new rules about how to get there.”

  “Do you know what it is?”

  “I’ve got an idea.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Nope. It won’t mean anything unless you find it for yourself.”

  Chapter Six

  Annalise

  I opened my front door to Jake the next morning, pausing as he bent to kiss my cheek. “Hi, you’re early. I’m not quite ready. Make yourself a cup of coffee if you want.” I scooted back to my bedroom.

  With nerves fluttering in my belly, I was trying hard to put together a professional look for my first ever meeting with a buyer about my designs. I’d been to meetings at the magazine and the studio about designs, just never my own. Except talking to Jake, but that didn’t count.

  What? my libido screamed. Jake not count? In what universe would that be a possibility? I took a deep breath. My libido was becoming far too opinionated.

  I’d tried matching a professional tone with something interesting enough to give some fashion credibility and had chosen a lilac sundress with a demure neckline and length. My libido frowned at the need for ‘demure’ anything. I turned for a quick look at my hair in the mirror. Definitely up. Maybe a French twist?

  Cutting my libido off before it could espouse an opinion on anything French, I twisted my hair into a tortoiseshell clip as I went out to check on Jake.

  He hadn’t made coffee; he was crouched in my lounge room, patting Rover on the head. When he saw me, he straightened and reached out, saying, “Don’t put it up.”

  Stepping back, I continued putting in the clip. “You might be able to get away with the casual look at work, but I don’t have your public profile or the indulgence of your admirers. I need to look the part.”

  He gave a curt nod and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “You’re right. I’m the one who needs you to make me over, so I shouldn’t be offering advice.”

  Having finished with my hair, I dropped my hands to my sides and studied his face. I couldn’t tell if he was serious or joking. This adult Jake was utterly confusing.

  I’d thought I’d known everything there was to know about him when we were teenagers—well, as much as you can know without having many actual conversations. But now, as adults, I was having trouble getting a handle on him. Had he changed that much? Had I ever known the real Jake at all? Or was I making a mud cake out of a chocolate drop?

  Whatever, I didn’t have the time or the mind-space to work it out before the meeting. For my career’s sake, I needed to focus, and Jake Maxwell, with his dark eyes and toned biceps, was the natural enemy of concentration.

  The drive to his office wasn’t long, and we used the time for Jake to brief me on Tracey and the process of the meeting.

  After parking, he picked up my portfolio and the mocked-up designs from the back seat, and we walked into his building. I noted from the sign that it housed his local retail outlet and other aspects of his business.

  As we stood in the lift, I allowed myself to give him a once-over. In his “good” jeans and a T-shirt, admittedly one that looked brand new, he did look more like the simple surfer he claimed to be than the owner of the business. Albeit a hot simple surfer.

  The image didn’t last long. We walked through glass doors into a reception area, and I was reminded of his role when a middle-aged woman with a sleek auburn bob and half-moon glasses rose from her desk and walked over with ramrod-straight posture.

  “Good morning, Mr. Maxwell. This must be Ms. Farley.” She spoke with respect and efficiency.

  Jake put a hand in the small of my back as he answered. A tingle of warmth radiated out from his hand and, even under the woman’s scrutiny, I had to stop myself from rubbing against it like a bear scratching her back against a tree.

  “Good morning, Janine. Yes, this is Annalise Farley. And, really, call me Jake.”

  Janine seemed totally unaffected by Jake’s request. “Your office is ready for the meeting, Mr. Maxwell. Would you like anything else?”

  He sighed in good-natured resignation. “No, thank you. Just let me know when Tracey arrives.”

  He guided me into his office and closed the door behind us. “She’s the best personal assistant I’ve had, but she’s stubborn. For two years, I’ve been telling her to call me Jake. It’s like a game we play every morning.”

  I was glad one woman could think straight around Jake. Maybe one day, when I was over this crush, I’d join her. Or maybe I’d never get to Janine’s unaffected state—I sometimes thought that movie star raised eyebrow of his would be the death of me.

  I looked around his office, taking in the designer décor and minimalist look. It was more than minimalist though. There were no piles of papers in in-trays or well-thumbed reports in easy reach. No pens on the desk or notes on blotters. No blotters at all, actually. “You really don’t spend a lot of time in here, do you?”

  “Only if I’m bored.” He shrugged. “I’ve been pretty lucky with the people I’ve employed. They run the place for me.”

  “I thought you said it was instinct, not luck.”

  “I like to think it was. There was also some purpose there. I designed the job descriptions and employed enough people to do myself out of a job.”

  Had I thought he was hard to get a handle on? Make that impossible. “So why stay on at all?”

  He
shrugged again. “Maybe it’s habit. Why don’t you sit down? Tracey should be here any minute.”

  Well, he obviously wasn’t going to explain the inner workings of his mind, which was probably a good thing. I was supposed to be focusing.

  And not on him.

  Or getting a handle on his body.

  Shaking my head, I laid out the sketches of the two designs on the small board table and hung the garments on the cupboard door handles.

  I felt Jake watching me but shut him out for the good of my concentration. While smoothing down my dress and running a hand over my hair, I went through everything I’d need to say in the meeting.

  All too soon, Janine announced Tracey’s arrival, then showed her in.

  Tracey’s styled black waves, vivid green eyes, and wide, full-lipped smile made a stunning combination. She smiled warmly at Jake and greeted him, not, I noted, in a flirtatious way, but in a professional and friendly way.

  I felt a moment of relief before realizing my jealousy was out of place. Besides, I needed to keep focused solely on the meeting—a task I was struggling enough to master without adding misplaced jealousy to the emotional cocktail. I resisted biting my lip and forced a smile instead.

  Tracey held out her hand as Jake introduced us. “Hello, Annalise. I’ve been excited about seeing your designs since Jake called raving about them.”

  “Thank you.” I looked over at Jake and tried to picture him raving. About me.

  No, darn it, focus.

  I took the green dress from the door handle and held it out for Tracey. “This is one of the designs Jake thought would work.” I withheld any further explanation, wanting Tracey to form her own opinion, and again had to resist biting my lip. At least my lipstick would be intact from my attempt at professionalism.

  Tracey reached for the dress. “That’s gorgeous.” With eagle-eyed focus, she turned it, then held it high, looked closely at the material, and let it drape against her side. “I love it.” She flashed her wide smile at me. “It’ll hang against the body well, be feminine and yet casual.”

  With an internal flush of excitement, I launched into my spiel about its design and fabric.