Читать книгу Risking It All - Stephanie Tyler - Страница 8

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THREE SEPARATE FIGHTS with three separate surfers, all of whom kept trying to drop in on his territory, and one broken board later, Cash cursed his way back into the boat. His using several different languages to mix together a nice, potent string of words made even the captain of the boat whistle in appreciation.

“Haole, I think I need to start writing this stuff down,” he said. “The Wahines are getting to you.”

“I need another board,” Cash demanded of no one in particular, grabbed one from the corner of the boat and started waxing it up. He was going to catch another ride if it killed him. And he was not going to think of women or wahines or whatever else they were called.

“Surfboard climb up your ass on that ride, brah?” his friend and surfing buddy, Mike, asked as he jet skied up to the bow of the boat, tied it off and climbed aboard. “You seem uptight.”

Mike was a native Hawaiian, lived, worked and raised a family on the main island and was always ready for some major surfing when Cash came calling. They’d been up since before dawn, searching for the perfect swells, and now, as the sun shone his mood only worsened.

“Me? Uptight? Me?” Cash asked, before he threw the disk of sex wax across the boat.

“Yeah. Just a touch.”

You’re supposed to be pretending to be on vacation, dude, so chill the hell out. Don’t blow this.

Cash shook his head, took a deep breath and got his shit together. “Sorry, man. It’s nothing. Nothing important.”

It shouldn’t have mattered how upset Rina was about her film, because he had his own problems. Beyond that, he didn’t do the “oh you’re my savior” kind of thing. He left that part of the job to Justin and some of his other teammates who had that gift for helping women and coming out the hero. His chosen path of just steering clear always worked out best in his personal life. When he was on the job as a Navy SEAL, then sure, he needed to come out the hero, and so far, he’d been lucky.

Beach bum my ass.

Normally, it didn’t bother him when someone made assumptions about his life. And it especially shouldn’t have mattered what the hell Rina thought because it was his duty to get the tape and disappear from her life. But there was something about her, something that had stopped him from pulling his regular “come to bed with me and I’ll show you my stick” line of bullshit that seemed to get to most of the women who approached him.

Then again, most of the women who approached him were looking for one thing and one thing only, portraying a big wave surfer for this current job didn’t discourage them. For the purpose of this mission, he was simply known as Cash, the rogue surfer, and no one but the DEA—and Justin, his partner in crime and SEAL team member—knew he was actually here as part of a Gray Ops mission to bust a major drug runner. And he’d screwed up majorly by letting his emotions get the better of him yesterday when he should’ve been picking Rina’s pockets.

Gray or Black Ops missions were common enough in the Special Forces community. Usually, they didn’t involve a major Government Agency like the DEA, but one of Justin’s childhood friends who’d recently made agent had gotten him involved with an offer neither man wanted to refuse.

The money was good, the experience and networking even better and the rush the best part of it all. Cash would stay with the SEALs as far as the teams could take him, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to stay in the military once he got sidelined. The higher up the ranks he climbed, the less action he was going to see—a fact of all military life, and he planned on keeping all his options open.

Most of the women who hung around the beaches and weren’t serious surfers themselves weren’t looking for much more than a good tan and great sex, and that was fine by him. A lot of them were already taken, too, married or otherwise, and to them, Cash gave the impression of being a walking, talking vacation, twenty-four seven. He did nothing to try and change this perception of himself, because it didn’t matter. It was all part of the pattern.

A pattern he blamed on his mother’s love for Johnny Cash, the singer. It was an ironic twist of fate, since her son wasn’t sure any woman would ever be able to walk the line for him. His mother hadn’t been able to for his father, and that betrayal always stayed with him.

Rina didn’t fit that pattern at all. Dedicated. Determined. And those serious brown eyes that noticed everything. She was adorable, even when pissed off, her accent deepening.

He flexed his hands as even now he thought about running them along the swell of her breasts until she said his name in a way that signaled passion, not annoyance.

The fact that he was still bothered about her had him tossing and turning last night after he’d followed her back to her hotel, told him something was definitely up with this one. And that it went beyond needing to grab that tape she’d recorded at the surf shop. The one she’d likely ditched at her editing facilities before hitting the beach, but after Justin had moved onto other surveillance as per the DEA’s orders.

He and Justin had come up with an alternate plan to grab the footage of the surf shop, once Cash assured him that Rina was a filmmaker and not any kind of undercover agent herself. Cash would run interference with Rina. Justin would grab the Bobo footage, as well as the footage of Cash. Which would mean getting the keys, since the industrial building that housed the documentary’s production offices would be a real bitch to break in to and attracting attention was not a main goal.

There was no way Cash could be seen in that video, even if it did somehow hold the balance of her future as a professional filmmaker, like she’d said. He’d worked too hard to screw it up on something like that. Besides, he didn’t need the ego boost, no matter how hard she’d tried to sell him on the idea.

The DEA would have his ass if he messed this up now, and his CO would take the rest and stomp it if Cash allowed a traceable image of himself on film that was possibly distributed worldwide.

He didn’t remember being filmed yesterday, but then again, when he was being pulled into some of the biggest waves Pipe had to offer, he was more concerned with getting his adrenaline rush and coming out in one piece. Because his CO would kill him if he came back from vacation hurt. And really, he could understand that, since his job necessitated that he be ready for action at a moment’s notice.

Still, putting himself—and keeping himself in danger was all part of the game to keep him sharp, to let the fear find him so he could conquer it over and over. He liked to meet life head on on a daily basis, to stay busy enough so he didn’t have to think about the one thing he refused to meet head on.

Besides, it would be too big of a blow to his pride to let a wave—or anything else—take him down. He’d been battling them, and the stormy past they represented, for a while now, and as long as he could keep his head above water, he was winning.

And he was all about winning.

“Hey, can you take us to shore? There’s someone I’ve got to find,” he said to the captain of the small boat even as he muttered something about now he hated having a goddamned conscience under his breath. The day had been a bust, anyway. Nothing to see out here but waves, and unfortunately, waves weren’t the only thing he had left to find.

“I thought we were surfing,” Mike said, once Cash was through having the conversation with himself, and the boat had turned around. The salt sprayed their faces as the craft picked up some serious speed.

“We are,” he said. “You’re just going to do it for the camera today.”

RINA HADN’T BEEN ABLE to do anything at all with the film. She’d worked through the better part of the night before she’d finally given in and slept with her head down on her arm on the console, then woken up with marks from her watch on her cheek and a bad attitude. She’d tried to fix the video with a determination she hadn’t even known she’d possessed. But, in the end, even Stella, normally her biggest cheerleader, had to admit that it just wasn’t good enough.

Rina knew she was going to have to reconfigure the whole thing, and that she and Stella would need to choose something else to send in with the grant proposal. None of the other men fit in with the theme of hero as well as Cash had, and she shook her head at the irony of that, especially since her hero turned out to be some kind of shady character.

Typical.

Five days in Hawaii and her one trip to the most beautiful beaches on earth had turned into a complete and utter disaster.

Stella had eventually dragged her away from the editing room, forced her to shower and put on something fun and cute. And then they’d gone to dinner, but ended up with an hour’s wait at most places, and settled in at the nearest bar instead.

“You’d better slow down, or you’ll never be able to fix that film in the morning before we leave,” Stella told her. But Rina batted her friend’s back away when she tried to take away the Mai Tai.

The third, very strong Mai Tai she’d had over the course of two hours. “Stel, maybe if you talked to him…”

“From what you said, he sounded pretty adamant about it.”

“But you’re his type.”

“How do you know that?”

“You’re every man’s type. Tall. Thin. Blo-o-o-ond.” She strung out the last word and Stella laughed.

The two women looked as opposite as night and day, and Rina often bemoaned Stella’s tall, slim figure while she had to work to keep her own curves under control. Stella also had long, blond hair and deep green eyes that had men drooling after her. Rina had always done fine with her share of guys, but if Stella wasn’t such a good friend, she might seriously hate her.

“It was your job to convince him. Besides, you seemed very proprietary,” Stella reminded her.

“Not anymore,” she said. “Not when he’s an arrogant, obnoxious, ‘look at me I’m a surfing God’—”

“Talking about me?”

She almost fell off the stool when she heard that low, sexy “do it to me baby” voice behind her.

Hold it together, she told herself firmly. You don’t owe this guy a thing.

“Not everything is about you,” she said, turning to look up into his eyes. Big mistake. That electric current she’d felt running between them was still there and strong, and yes, it certainly was all about him because he looked just as good dry.

“Well, that’s a shame,” Cash said, and when did his eyes get bluer?

“Can I help you with something?” she asked finally.

“Actually, this arrogant, obnoxious, surfing God is here to help you,” he said.

“You’ve already done enough,” she said. “We had a fight,” she told the dark-haired man standing next to Cash.

“Who won?” the man asked, and Rina reluctantly pointed a finger at Cash, who shook his head and looked up toward the sky as if some divine intervention could save him from all of this.

“Mike, this is Rina,” Cash said.

“Mike, your friend ruined my video and threatened to call my boss,” she said, and noted that Stella watched the whole scene with growing amusement.

“She doesn’t seem that uptight to me,” Mike said to Cash.

“You told him I was uptight?”

“You are uptight. Too much city and not enough of the beach in you,” Cash explained.

“And I suppose you’re the man to change all that, right? The one to set me on the path to a Zenlike relaxation, beginning with what? I’d bet you’d suggest a mind-blowing orgasm,” she said, before she could stop herself, because the Mai Tai’s were in control now.

Funny thing, Cash didn’t seem to mind a bit. And she wanted him to mind, although she wasn’t sure why.

Note to self—no sleep plus Mai Tais does not equal a great combination.

“She won’t remember this come morning, so I’ll tell you,” Cash addressed Stella.

“Yeah, that’s it. Talk to the blonde,” Rina muttered. Stella kicked her shin lightly, and Mike looked amused by the whole thing. “Well, go ahead. Don’t let me stop you,” she said to Cash, who threw her one last scowl before shifting his attention to Stella.

“Your cameraman’s Zoot, right? Purple hair?”

“Yes, that’s him,” Stella said.

“Well, I had him film some footage of Mike, the man who taught me everything I know about big-wave surfing. I had Zoot show me what he’d shot of me and we tried to recreate it, using Mike, so Rina, the non-blonde with the attitude over here, wouldn’t have too much work to do.”

“Wow. That’s great of you.” Stella turned to her. “Did you hear that? This could really work.”

“It won’t be the same,” Rina replied, even as Stella and the other surfer began talking about release forms.

“Hey, it’s the best I could do,” Cash told her. He then murmured something about stubborn women never being satisfied, and walked off into the crowd.

Even in her Mai Tai haze, she knew she owed him an apology. He didn’t have to find a replacement, didn’t have to seek her out at all. But why he did…now that was worth finding out.

“Hey!” she called over the crowd that was gathered at the door to the bar. He didn’t acknowledge her and she was forced to half chase him through the parking lot. “Cash, please wait,” she said.

He finally turned, so fast she kind of crashed against him. “You smell good,” she whispered, from where her nose was buried against his shirt. Smelled like sun, sand and beach, and she’d bet he tasted like the beach, too, all hot and tangy and salty.

“That’s what you followed me out here to say?”

She lifted her head. “No. I wanted to apologize.”

“By smelling me?”

“By telling you I’m sorry,” she said, backing away from him.

“I’m not sure if that’s how they give apologies up north, but I’ve got to say, as apologies go, that’s probably the worst one I’ve ever heard.”

“Yeah, well, that’s the way it happens up north, so take it or leave it,” she said.

“Guess I’ll leave it then.” He turned to go, but she grabbed the sleeve of his shirt, suddenly dizzy from the walk and the alcohol. Things seemed to be spinning when all she wanted was for everything to hold still. “Hey, you okay?” he asked.

“I don’t want to go back in there,” she told him. Cash really shouldn’t care. He sighed, looked up at the sky as if that would offer him some way out of all this. She looked up, too. “That’s a beautiful sky.”

“Surfing’s going to kick ass tomorrow,” he said. “Come on. I’ll walk you back to the hotel.”

He took her by the elbow, mainly because she’d started walking in the opposite direction from the hotel and together they strolled the two blocks, taking the beach route instead of the road.

She followed his lead, kicked off her shoes once they hit the beach, and she liked the way the cool sand moved between her toes. Liked it so much that she just stopped and flexed her toes.

“Having fun?” he asked.

“This just feels nice. I haven’t gotten to the beach much this trip.”

“Except to yell at me.”

He took her arm and they began to move forward, the sound of the waves rushing toward shore in the background, the cool air blowing her hair back and her skirt around and everything felt so good. Heightened.

“Speaking of yelling, in the film, you were fighting with some guy. Something about dropping in.”

He laughed. “Saw me at my best, did you?”

“You were really pissed.”

“I guess you’d recognize that emotion,” he teased. “Dropping in’s when someone jumps into the wave you’re already riding. Screws the ride up majorly, and there’s nothing that ticks me off more than someone who can’t wait their turn.”

“Why did you make that new tape for me?” she asked. He looked at her for a second before he answered, the look that made her body tingle and her blood heat.

“Because it seemed important enough to you.”

“It was,” she said quietly.

“But you don’t think it’ll work.”

She couldn’t lie. “He’s not you, Cash. It’s hard to explain but, when I watched you on the video, you were flying. Does it feel like that?”

“Yeah, it does. You’re weightless, suspended between time and space and even though you’re balancing, your feet are moving out from under you. Like no matter how hard you try, you’re never going to be fully in control, and that’s pretty damned cool.”

He stared off toward the waves as he spoke, at the water crashing against the shore with a pounding, intense rhythm that seemed a lot like Cash himself. The sensations vibrated through her entire body.

She wanted to stay angry at him for ruining her film, but the way he sounded when he talked about surfing wouldn’t let her. It was the way she imagined she must sound when she talked about her passion for filmmaking.

“You love surfing,” she said finally.

“Yes.”

“Then I still don’t get it.”

“Why I won’t sign the release?” he asked, and she nodded. “My future depends on it. Same as yours. And don’t ask me to explain.”

“Fine. But I think you like being mysterious, just as the people at the surf shop said.”

“And I still think you need to relax a little more,” he informed her. “What, exactly, did the people at the surf shop tell you about me?”

“They said you were some kind of criminal or trust fund baby or something. And that all women were your type,” she repeated. They’d paused in front of the stretch of Oceanside hotel rooms and she stared at one door then another because everything looked a little fuzzy.

Cash grinned. “Not all women,” he said, but he didn’t deny the rest.

“I think you need to know that I don’t get involved with bad boys like you,” she told him. Even poked him in his big, broad chest a few times to bring her point home.

His hand closed around hers, held it. She liked the power in his grip, decided that she might want to feel those hands on other parts of her body, too.

“Well, that’s good, since I don’t get involved with good girls.”

“How do you know I’m a good girl?” she asked.

“Trust me. I know.” He caught her arm when she pitched forward. “Come on, now. Let’s get you to your room safe and in one piece.”

“I’m not inviting you inside,” she insisted, even as she fumbled in her bag for the key. And he was standing so close that suddenly, she didn’t want to be the damned good girl anymore.

“You don’t even seem to know which room is yours,” he said. “I think I should take you back to your friend at the bar.”

“Why? So you can prove to everyone how uptight I am?”

“Now that didn’t even make sense,” he said.

“And neither does this.” She planted her hands on his shoulders and lifted herself up on tiptoe so that she could kiss him. Really kiss him.

He grabbed her around the waist, held her against him and deepened the kiss. She didn’t want him to ever stop. And when the rough rasp of his tongue played with the soft, sensitive underside of hers, she moaned into his mouth and tightened her grip on his hair.

Eventually, he pulled away, she bit her bottom lip and tried to calm her breathing, but that wasn’t going to happen. Not when he was holding her so close to him.

“Are you still not inviting me in?” he asked.

She searched her bag again and came up empty. “I don’t have a key,” she announced. “All my keys are gone.”

“Does your friend have a copy?”

“We’re not sharing a room,” she murmured. “I guess I’d better go to the front desk and get a new key.”

“Are you sure this is your room?” he asked.

“Yes, this is it.”

He moved her aside and fiddled with the doorknob for half a second before the door opened. She stared between it and him. “You are a criminal, aren’t you?” she asked.

“Don’t ask things you don’t really want answers to,” he said. Then he picked her up, crushed his mouth against hers and took them both inside the room.