Название: Wild Child
Автор: Cindi Myers
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
isbn: 9781408900215
isbn:
Drew hadn’t really minded returning to the place where he’d grown up, but between living with his grandfather and running the Surf Shack, surfing was something he could never get away from. He loved it, but he felt pressured by it, too. Last night after Gus was in bed, Drew had stayed up to balance the Shack accounts. Midway through reviewing inventory records, he’d realized this was no way for a twenty-nine-year-old guy to spend Sunday night.
The sudden loneliness had hit him in the gut, and this morning he’d vowed to change things. He’d get out more, meet women and find someone to share his life with.
So was it mere coincidence that the first woman he’d met seemed to want the same thing for herself? Maybe he was reading too much into a wistful look and a few words of conversation, but something in him sensed that Sara was a woman who wanted more.
Maybe he could be the one to give her what she wanted.
“Sorry about that.” She walked up behind him, tote bag slung over her shoulder. “I was afraid that would be my Uncle Spence calling with some urgent business problem, but it was just one of my roommates.”
“So you’re free to come with me now?”
She smiled. “I’m free. At least for a little while. And I’d better take advantage of that.”
2
THE COOL firmness of sand between her toes, the smell of salt and suntan oil, the thunder of waves and the shrill cries of seagulls transported Sara to her girlhood. Walking alongside Drew, she felt that same sense of possibility to the afternoon—that wonderful anticipation she’d come to Malibu to rediscover. With a surfboard tucked under one arm, he even looked like the idols of her youth. Anything could happen as long as the sun shone and her companion kept smiling at her.
She glanced at him and he winked. Now she really felt like a girl again; it was all she could do not to giggle. She was glad she’d agreed to come with him. He was easy to be with, and he’d given her the perfect excuse to get away, though her phone was in the beach bag she’d grabbed to bring along.
Whether she could go through with her original plan to seduce this hottie was debatable. Her seduction skills were definitely rusty.
Ellie would probably say that was all the more reason for her to practice.
They passed a carnival laid out on the sand—Ferris wheel, arcade games, a stage and volleyball nets. A man in a lime-green turban and a Hawaiian shirt stood at a booth near a sign that read Magellan the All-Knowing. “What’s all this?” Sara asked.
“It’s all part of the big Sin on the Beach party.” Drew raised one eyebrow. “I figured that was what brought you here this week.”
She shrugged. “My friends said something about it, but I never realized it was so…elaborate.”
He nodded. “They’re hosting a week-long bash—games, dancing, contests, prizes. It’s bigger than spring break.”
A week-long bash? “Guess we lucked out.” She grinned at him. Talk about the perfect setting for a wild fling.
“My shop is just a little ways up the beach,” Drew said. “My grandparents started it almost forty years ago.”
“It’s hard to imagine having a grandfather who surfs,” she said. “It seems like such a hip, young thing to do.” Her own mother—like her father before he’d died—was a serious, hard-working person. Even after they’d moved to L.A., her mom had never acclimated to the west-coast lifestyle. She complained that the sun shone too much.
“Grandpa Gus definitely isn’t an old fogey,” Drew said. “If anything, he acts too young. He forgets he can’t do everything he could as a young man and it gets him into trouble.”
“And you worry about him,” she said.
He gave her a sharp look. “Does it show that much?”
“Not really. But I can relate. I’m the same way with my Uncle Spence. He’s younger than your grandfather, but he works so hard. He never lets himself relax, and he worries about everything. He depends on me a lot to help with his business and I hate to let him down.”
Drew nodded. “I love Grandpa, and I don’t really mind, but sometimes…” His voice trailed away.
“Yeah, sometimes.” She knew exactly how Drew felt. Could it be she wasn’t the only young adult in the world with too many responsibilities and too much guilt?
“Would you like to see the shop?” Drew asked. “Then maybe we could do something together.”
She could think of any number of things she would like to do with him—some of which involved wearing no clothes. Obviously her libido was taking the idea of a no-holds-barred vacation seriously. But even the more sensible part of her liked the idea of getting to know this man better. “That would be great,” she said.
Like a bad-tempered chaperone determined to cramp her style, her phone started vibrating, rattling against the keys in the bottom of her bag.
“What is that?” Drew asked.
“Nothing.” She groped in her bag, trying to locate the off button for the phone, but only succeeded in getting the strap wrapped around her sunglasses case.
“Seriously, what’s that buzzing noise?” Drew moved closer. “Do you have something in there?”
“No, really, it’s fine.” If she broke off yet another conversation with him to take a call, he was going to think she was a complete workaholic.
He stepped back, grinning. “I’ve heard about those things, but I never knew a woman who carried one with her to the beach.”
“It’s not… You don’t think—” Her face probably came close to matching the color of her swimsuit. She jerked the cell out of her bag. “It’s a phone!”
He laughed. “Hey, did I say it wasn’t?” He shook his head. “Go ahead and answer it. Maybe it’s your roommate again.”
She should be so lucky. She checked the caller ID. “No, it’s my uncle.”
“Then you’d better answer it.”
“Yeah, guess I’d better.” She flipped open the phone as she moved a few steps away.
“Sara, why haven’t you called the title company?” With those words, Uncle Spence made her magical mood vanish.
The title company! She groaned. “I’m sorry. I got busy and it slipped my mind. I’ll call in the morning.”
“You need to call now. Granger’s been asking me about the closing.” She pictured him standing in the clubhouse, sweat pouring down his red face, working himself into a lather over his imagined failure to make a good impression on his top client. “We’re having dinner later and I’d like to be able to tell him something specific,” he said.
“Just tell Mr. Granger that everything’s on schedule and he doesn’t need to worry.”
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