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Keeping Mr. Right Now
by Robin Bielman
 
Copyright © 2014 by Robin Bielman. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.
 

Chapter One

“SHE wants you.”

Zane Hollander tipped back his chair and laced his fingers behind his head. The sun glittered off the Pacific Ocean, a confetti of surfers waited in the temporarily placid sea for the perfect wave, and bikini-clad women baked on the soft sand under a blazing August sun. From the balcony of his rented beach house, Zane wondered which female his best friend and agent might be referring to.

“Which she?” He pitched forward, his elbows landing on the round teak table.

Bryce Bishop shook his head. “Seriously?”

“I take women very seriously. You know that.” Only lately, the media didn’t seem to think the long line of company he kept did his reputation any good. Party girls with dirty mouths who left their undergarments at home apparently were frowned upon everywhere but the tabloids. The least desirable outlet when a guy had an already-compromised image.

Of course, it wasn’t like he took them all home. His mom had raised him better than that. But caught with enough scantily clad women on his arm, he’d been labeled a bad boy. Only his best friends knew that the worst of his less-than-respectable behavior happened around the same time every year—the anniversary of his dad’s death.

“I meant S-H-E, Zane. Surf Help Exchange. They want you to be their ambassador after all.” Bryce ran a thumb across the condensation on his iced tea glass. “It’s the kind of exposure that will cement your status as one of the top pro surfers, regardless of how many world titles you’ve got.”

Zane’s eyes drifted shut. The image he shared with the world was only a small piece of the man on the inside. He wanted this position with SHE—the largest nonprofit organization promoting humanitarian, clean water, and natural healing efforts across the globe. Wanted to make a difference and maybe, just maybe, be good at something besides riding waves.

“But…” Bryce trailed off. Yeah, lately there’d been quite a few “buts” given Zane’s behavior.

“What?” Zane popped the last piece of sushi on his plate into his mouth.

“They’re concerned about your image. The deal is close, but only if you clean up your act—fast. Fun-loving tube junkie isn’t what they want, but I think I’ve almost convinced them you’re more than that.” Bryce fanned his T-shirt away from his stomach. “They want the best you, and you’ve got this week in White Strand Cove to prove you’re capable of giving something back.”

“You know I am.” Zane led the typical pro surfer life—in the water more than 320 days a year in multiple countries, including Panama, Micronesia, Fiji. He lived in perpetual motion, sometimes hotdogging it, more often ass-deep in a tube and winning competitions.

Girls fell all over him. Guys bought him beers.

But his small circle of close friends and family—Bryce; his other best friend and business manager, Danny; his mom and sister—knew he didn’t want a life dictated by the ocean’s moods. He wanted to leave something meaningful behind.

“I think it’s time everyone else did, too,” Bryce said.

A sliver of fear stole its way down Zane’s spine. Being told his whole life by his father that he wasn’t good at anything but surfing made it difficult to stand up for other things he believed in. He knew who he had to be in the water and on the circuit. Anywhere else? Not so much. You’ve got shit for brains, son. The only thing you’re good at is surfing. Quit school. Take that endorsement deal and go where they want you. The only thing that suits you is the water.

They. His father hadn’t cared who they were as long as they took his stupid son off his hands. Just shy of his seventeenth birthday and his senior year of high school, he’d gone. Until the day his dad died three years ago, he’d always made Zane feel foolish whenever he opened his mouth.

And the son of a bitch still made him doubt himself. Still doused his confidence when the topic of conversation veered away from superficial issues.

There was nothing superficial about SHE.

“What’s the plan?” Zane asked, his gaze on the sea. He still smelled and felt the salt on his skin from earlier, but he itched to straddle his board and get back in the water. No one questioned or doubted him out there.

“This is your third year at White Strand Cove and their Surf Fanatic Film Festival. The town loves you. This time, though, Danny and I thought that along with promoting your film and mingling in the bars and festival parties with the locals, you should let us organize a couple of soirees with the town’s officials and other notable residents.”

Zane looked him up and down. “You drop your man card somewhere? Since when does my agent say soiree?”

“Smart-ass. A good agent shifts with the changing landscape. And you”—Bryce pointed a finger—“are changing.”

“Think the public will buy it?”

“Absolutely. You’re selling you, just dropping the guard you keep under the guise of surfing’s biggest bad boy, and your adoring fans will be jumping off the cliff with you.”

“I do feel more at home here than anywhere else.” White Strand Cove sat tucked away only sixty miles from where he grew up. Famous for fast waves and fierce localism, the Strand reminded him of his small town, only better. Better because now when he chased monster waves, he always came out the other side. And because people liked him no matter how he behaved.

“Exactly. The film festival opens tomorrow night, and I’d like to get a nice local girl on your arm. Preferably dressed in something that doesn’t make it clear she has no tan lines.”

Zane chuckled. That still left a lot of options.

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” Bryce said. “I was in the surf wear shop on Bluff this morning. The manager is cute and finishing law school this fall. I thought we’d set it up with her.”

A woman down on the sand stood and wiped her hands on her very fine ass. The scrap of bikini bottom didn’t leave much to the imagination. No tan line. She twisted and gave Zane a peek at her well-endowed front side. “You sure I can’t pick my own date?” he asked.

Bryce followed his line of vision. “Eight days, dude. I think you can play tame for eight damn days.”

“You can. But this,” he teased, gesturing down his bare torso, “is a chick magnet, and you know how I hate to turn away interested parties.” Truth was, Bryce might be the complete opposite of Zane, with his dark hair and eyes, but he had his pick of the ladies, too. He was just more discreet about it.

“Yeah, sucks being you.” Bryce shifted in his chair. “Listen, there’s one other thing. Keep your distance from any troublemakers. The last thing we need is another altercation.”

Zane swallowed the bad taste in his mouth. A few weeks ago, one of the new guys on the tour had thrown a punch at him over a girl. Zane refused to raise his fist in return, but word had spread about the fight and cast them both in a negative light.

“No worries there,” Zane said.

“You’re currently at the top of the world rankings, and I’d like to see you hold on to that spot without any mention of bad blood between you and someone else.”

Zane would, too. But would it crush him if he slipped to second, third, or even fourth? Missing his shot with SHE would hurt more. He’d been the underdog enough times to know he could win that top spot back.

The sun reached its peak, and he and Bryce lifted their sunglasses from the table and slid them on. Daylight glittered off the waves; pelicans scoped out the sand in search of lunch food left forgotten.

“The latest mention in Surfer deems you surfing’s version of David Beckham,” Bryce added. “When this thing with SHE happens, you’ll be the Muhammad Ali.”

“You and Danny really think I can do this?” He ran his hands down his board shorts.

“Of course. You think we would’ve stuck around all these years if we didn’t believe in you?”

Best friends since sixth grade, they’d gone to school together, surfed together, gotten into mischief together. They had one another’s backs, lied to keep one another out of too much trouble. And they had never begrudged Zane’s skill in the water. When he left to make it in the surfing world—and to escape his dad—Bryce and Danny had started a fan club. They kept up with his competitions and never let his successes go to his head. It got harder to stay in touch, but when his best friends graduated at the top of their business school classes, it wasn’t long before the three were back together and tighter than ever.

“You reading those sports psychology books again?”

“Dude, if I could figure out your head, we’d rule more than the surfing world.”

Zane laughed to cover how ill at ease he was at that. Some days he lived in slow-motion, out there in the water feeling an almost supernatural connection to the sea. Other days he felt like one of the masses, unable to find his footing on the board if his life depended on it. He tapped the side of his head with his finger. “What goes on in here stays in here.”

Bryce’s cell buzzed. He lifted his shades and glanced at the phone. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Beers tonight at the Happy Harpoon.”

“That’s perfect. It’s mostly locals. Low key. I’ll text Danny.” His fingers sped across his phone screen. “Still, you might want to keep your head down.”

“I’m capable of drinking a few ales and keeping myself in check.”

“Not you I’m worried about so much as the women eager to say they’ve been Zaned. You know there’re T-shirts that say I’ve been ZANED.”

He did know. A woman on the beach this morning had one on. Lots of interpretations went along with it, and Zane never bothered to correct any of them. Let the fans say what they wanted. To curb someone’s enthusiasm, whether it was truth or not, didn’t interest him. The smiles on their faces did.

Bryce put down his phone. “Danny just finished lunch with the city council president and arranged something for later in the week. Tonight he’s meeting with the new film festival coordinator to set up a special prescreening event.” He took a sip of his drink.

“There’s a new coordinator?” A hot blonde who worked for a company based out of Los Angeles had handled the past couple of years.

“Yeah. From some notable special events firm based out of Montana. In fact, she’s your surf lesson this afternoon.”

Zane groaned, not because Danny always volunteered him for a few lessons when he visited beach communities, but Montana? Did she know the difference between a surfboard and a snowboard?

“Be nice.” Bryce pushed up from his seat. “But not too nice.”

“I can do the perfect nice.” Zane stood and pulled his shoulders back in a stretch. “This coordinator have a name?”

“Sophie Birch.”

Her name had a nice ring to it. “Count on Sophie Birch being Zaned.”

…

Between her room at the lovely White Strand Inn and the sand on the other side of the pool bar, Sophie Birch lost her virginity.

She blinked a dozen or more times, trying to get used to the contact lenses she’d only started wearing two days ago, and focused on tanned, capable hands. The second drink promised to be better.

“Try this,” the bartender said, putting a blended fruit cocktail in front of her. This one guaranteed to incinerate her insides with sweetness rather than the hot steel otherwise known as tequila.

Sophie lifted her gaze and smiled, hoping her pale skin hadn’t turned pink everywhere. She was positive her cheeks matched the strawberry speared on the edge of her tall glass.

“I can’t believe you’ve only had virgin cocktails,” her new friend, Honor, said from the barstool beside her. Honor drank her pretty reddish-orange drink like it was ginger ale.

Honor also looked cooler than cool while doing it. She had dark blond hair and blue-gray eyes, and no one as pretty as her had ever been so nice to Sophie before. Of course being that Honor worked for the mayor’s office as an event specialist meant she sort of had to.

The only reason Sophie had agreed to a “drink” in the first place was (a) because Honor had knocked on her hotel room door to welcome her to White Strand Cove and act as her liaison during the film festival and then promptly escorted her to the bar and (b) to calm her crazy uneasy nerves. She had the sweaty palms and trembles in her limbs to prove her nerves were stressed out.

She needed to chill. Immediately.

Drinking probably wasn’t the best way to start her first job going solo as a special events coordinator, but she had no idea how else to relate to the laid-back beach vibe. Her boss was supposed to be here, but she’d broken her leg last week in a water-skiing accident, and so Sophie had flown from Montana to California in her place to oversee the Surf Fanatic Film Festival.

It’s work, but I want you to make it a vacation, too, her boss had said. Everything is in place and should only require minimal supervision, so live a little. Sophie had never taken a vacation before. She gazed out to the gorgeous dark blue sea. She’d also never seen the ocean before. Her heart did a few flips every time she looked that way.

“I’m sorry I spewed my tequila sunrise all over you,” she said to Honor.

“Don’t be.” Honor waved her hand like no big deal, my friends spit their drinks on me all the time.

Sophie got the feeling she and Honor could be good friends, and she was grateful to the town for giving her such a wonderful welcome gift. She didn’t make friends easily back home.

“Oh, this is yummy,” Sophie said, sipping her piña colada. She could get used to these.

Only not while working. She’d been handed an amazing opportunity and she didn’t want to blow it. She planned to do the best job ever for the film festival and to make her boss and company proud. Prove to everyone—including herself—that she had what it took to take on bigger events on her own. Leaving her research job studying brain regions and function last year hadn’t gone over very well with her parents, and her mother was always looking for an opportunity to remind her that she was better suited for analysis than what color tablecloths looked good.

The mind is a terrible thing to waste, her mom would say, the cliché one of her favorite ways to share her displeasure.

Tonight, Sophie’s job officially started. Today she’d have a little fun, even if it was a galaxy out of her comfort zone. She glanced down at her plain blue cover-up, then over at Honor. Honor had simply whipped off her blouse when Sophie soiled it with her drink, and now she wore a bright green bikini top with tiny white embroidered flowers and a pair of very short white shorts.

“Don’t drink it too fast.” Honor tipped the glass away from Sophie’s mouth. “Just because you can’t taste the alcohol doesn’t mean there isn’t any in there.”

“Right,” Sophie said. “Maybe we could get some lunch, too? I didn’t eat on the plane and only grabbed a banana this morning before I left for the airport.”

“You must be starving.” Honor reached down the bar and picked up a small laminated card. “How about sliders and a quesadilla? We could share.”

“Sounds great.”

“Oh, but the fish tacos are really good, too.” She put down the tiny menu and grinned. “Let’s get all three.”

Sophie smiled. Yep, good friends.

She wondered if everyone in White Strand was as nice as Honor. Her shoulders finally relaxed and she breathed in the scent of the ocean, suntan lotion, and something floral. Greenery with bunches of tiny pink flowers decorated the perimeter of the bar and pool area.

“Are you the liaison for every—” A loud clatter and then high-pitched squeals interrupted her question and drew her attention to the beach. A group of young women descended on some guy, and a few sunbathers around the pool were scurrying to join them. All Sophie could make out was blond hair and broad, tanned shoulders. Probably a pro surfer from one of the films. On the flight over, she’d done her research on the movies but hadn’t had a chance to brush up on all the stars who would be here. She planned to lie in bed and do that tonight.

“Zane! Zane!” the women shouted.

Oh. She knew who he was. She had a surf lesson with him in an hour. Her boss had made the date, but when she’d handed Sophie her itinerary, she’d given Sophie strict orders to follow through with everything on it.

It didn’t matter that she’d never set foot in the ocean before, right?

Her head swam for a minute. There were roughly one hundred trillion synapses in the human brain, and surely the right ones would fire when she needed the proper motor skills for surfing.

“Zane Hollander,” Honor said in her ear, her voice taking on a dreamy quality. “The closest thing to royalty around here.”

Sophie turned and studied her new friend. “You have a crush on him.” She recognized the starry-eyed, lips-slightly-parted look. She’d always had a hard time finding a boyfriend, but when it came to crushes, she was an expert.

“Who doesn’t? But look up ‘bad boy’ in the dictionary and you’ll find his name in all uppercase letters. He is fun to look at, though. And amazing to watch in the water.”

“I have a lesson with him.”

Honor’s eyes widened with excitement. “That is so freaking cool. He only gives a few, so you should feel totally lucky. When?”

“Three o’clock.”

“Today?” She gripped the edge of her barstool.

“Yes.” Sophie took a sip of her drink. Then another. Those pesky nerves were restless again.

“We’d better hurry up and eat then.” Honor bounced in her seat and called out their order to the bartender, adding, “Please make it quick.” Then they talked about the film festival and the schedule and logistics. They talked about the small beach town. And they talked about how neither one of them had ever been truly, madly, deeply in love.

“I always fall for the Mr. Right Nows,” Honor said.

“What do you mean?” Sophie put down the last bite of her slider.

“You know. Guys here on vacation. Or guys who aren’t looking for any sort of commitment, just some fun right now. A fling.”

Sophie didn’t know. She’d had limited experience with guys. And fun had never played a big part in it. “I always crush on the wrong guys.”

“I hear ya.” Honor gulped down the last of her drink and grabbed the check before Sophie could. “I’ve fallen for plenty of jerks I wish I hadn’t.”

“No, I mean my feelings are never returned, not that the guys are jerks.” Sophie was pretty sure Honor received lots of attention. The bartender had been checking her out the entire time they’d been sitting there. “The few times I’ve been really crazy about someone and put myself out there, I’ve had my heart stepped on.”

“I’m sorry,” Honor said, rising from her barstool. She wrapped an arm around Sophie. “Those guys were jerks.”

Sophie smiled. “Thanks.”

On the walk down the crowded beach after lunch, Sophie had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop from giggling with pleasure. She may as well have been walking in sugar, that’s how soft and wonderful the sand felt beneath her feet. Sunlight glittered and danced around her, as if the sun’s rays acted differently along a coastline. And the brightly colored umbrellas, talk and laughter from beachgoers, and kids chasing each other painted a wonderful picture she tucked away in the back of her mind.

“Come on.” Honor took her hand and skipped down to the water’s edge. When the cold Pacific slid up to her ankles for the first time, Sophie didn’t care what sounds came out of her mouth. Here she was at twenty-four, finally dipping her toes in the ocean, and it felt amazing.

She could almost taste the salt on her lips.

They stepped along the hard, wet sand the rest of the way until Zane Hollander stood in profile a few feet away. Sophie’s breath caught. Up close, he looked like he’d been carved from the most glorious, most gorgeous stone on the planet. His blond hair was straight, on the longer side and sticking up in GQ messiness. Square jaw, high cheekbones, perfect nose. Then he turned and pierced her with ice-blue eyes that knocked her off-balance.

She tripped over her own feet and face-planted right into the sand.

“Sophie! You okay?” Honor asked, her small hand taking hold of her arm.

Until Zane’s much bigger hands lifted her up like she weighed nothing and he planted her in the sand like a Popsicle stick. She brushed the sand off her face and prayed he thought her blush was a sunburn.

Who was she kidding? He wouldn’t take a second look at her. She’d been teased her whole life for her looks. With her unruly red hair, boy’s body, and unearthly green eyes—kids had called her an alien—she’d grown up a wallflower. Add in her IQ and college graduation at twenty, and any attention she got was nothing near romantic curiosity.

“Thank you,” she squeaked out.

“No problem,” he said, his voice deep, rich. Warm.

He made her warm all over. Especially now that her regard moved to his bare, lickable chest. She’d never seen anything so…so mouthwatering before. She stared, before little by little her gaze slid along the tan, smooth, lean muscle of his abdomen all the way down to the low-riding waistband of his board shorts. Definition at his hips—the kind she’d only seen on men in magazines—made her gulp. And oh my God. Had she just thought lickable?

“Hey, Zane. I’m Honor. We met last year at—”

“I remember.”

“You do?” Honor teetered a little until her shoulder bumped Sophie’s for balance.

“Of course. I remember all the pretty girls from the Strand.” He moved his gaze back to Sophie. “You’re Sophie Birch?”

Her gaze snapped up to his face. He’d never remember her if they met again next summer. She didn’t hold a candle to Honor and her curvy bikini body. He’d probably take one look at her conservative black one-piece and wish the lesson were with anyone else.

“Uh-huh.”

“Zane Hollander.” He gave her his hand. Somehow she managed to shake it like a calm, respectable woman. “You ready for your surf lesson?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Have you ever surfed before?” he asked, scanning her from top to bottom like he wanted to check for signs she might sink.

Should she mention she’d never been in the ocean before? Nah. She’d been in lakes. They were practically the same thing.

She shook her head. “Uh-uh.”

Honor elbowed her. “Sophie! You are about to take a lesson with one of the world’s best surfers. Speak up, girl. And don’t be afraid to ask questions.” Honor narrowed her eyes at Zane. “Take good care of my new friend. I’ll just be watching from that spot there.” She pointed somewhere over Zane’s shoulder and then walked away.

Leaving Sophie alone with arguably one of the best-looking men in the world, too. Get it together. You’ll be dealing with him all week during the festival. That thought sobered her up. She needed to be professional around him at all times.

“Since this is your first time, let’s practice on the sand before we hit the waves.” He nodded to two boards a few feet away.

“Okay.” She took off her cover-up and dropped it next to her very sandy beach bag. “Is that for me?” A flowered wet suit sat next to one of the boards.

“If you want it. The water’s cold, but you get used to it pretty quickly. Up to you.”

“I’m good.” She wanted to feel the saltwater on her skin with as little barrier as possible, no matter how chilly it might be.

He smiled and led her to her board. “You’ve got sunscreen on, right?”

“Yes.” With her pale skin and freckles, she’d burn in seconds without it. “But…” She hadn’t been able to reach her back. Her simple black suit covered most of her front, but it did dip pretty low in the back. She tried to make eye contact with Honor, but her friend was lying on her stomach on a colorful blanket and chatting it up with some guy.

“You didn’t get your back,” Zane said, picking up a bottle of sunscreen and pouring some onto his hand.

Her legs almost gave out and her heart pounded in her ears. Zane Hollander was about to go where no man had gone before and lotion her back.

“Turn around.” He gathered her hair and put it over her shoulder before rubbing the cream onto all the exposed spots.

Tingles exploded through her body, and it took all her willpower not to melt into the sand under his gentle yet firm ministrations. His breath tickled the back of her neck. Her breath got stuck in her throat. He was tall and his shoulders were wider than his hips, and he was so very handsome that for a second she thought maybe she’d passed out when she fell and this was a dream. But then she finally inhaled and smelled him and knew this was real. He smelled like saltwater and mint and man.

This very normal, casual act set her heart aflutter, and she now understood what it must feel like to melt for a guy.

He lifted his hands not a moment too soon.

For the next several minutes, Zane gave her a lesson on land. She copied his form and movements as best she could and hoped the learning process was long enough to commit her muscles to memory. Her brain might be hardwired better than most people’s, but her mind hadn’t been entirely focused on the task. Not when she could watch the strength and power in Zane’s arms and legs.

“I think you’re ready.” He tucked her surfboard under his arm. “You good?”

Besides feeling like she’d just worked out for two hours at her cousin’s kickboxing studio, yeah. She gave him a thumbs-up.

And prayed she didn’t look like a complete fool out there.

The second the water reached her knees, her breath caught and stuck in her chest, making it difficult to inhale. Exhales in rapid succession didn’t help against the chilly temperature, but Zane’s amiable voice did.

“Don’t panic, Sophie. You’ll get used to it in a minute.”

Maybe. But then the tide came at her with more force than she expected. She wavered.

Zane moved the board between them, obviously aware that she couldn’t keep her balance on top of breathing normally. “Hop on. I’ll get us farther out.”

She maneuvered onto the board, getting into position on her stomach just like he’d taught, and tried not to freak out. She never should have watched Shark Week last year. And how deep did they have to go? Her pulse revved up.

A wave came at them, and she squeezed her eyes shut. Zane guided her over it, but she still managed to swallow some water.

“It helps if you keep your mouth closed,” Zane said in a tone she wasn’t sure was teasing or not.

So she coughed and sputtered with her head tilted down, hoping not to draw too much attention to her newness. When they reached the strip of white water Zane had talked about, he spun the board around so that she faced the shoreline.

The sand looked miles away. The gentle sway of the inky black sea made her hyperaware of her surroundings, and fear landed in her stomach like a meteor. She grabbed Zane’s arm, ready to come clean and add that she’d changed her mind.

But then he whispered, “You can do this. Remember what I taught you.”

And she remembered what her boss had told her. Live a little.

Those words had sparked a promise to herself. Try new things. Don’t be a wimp.

“Now, ready…set…go.” Zane gave her a push.

She paddled like mad to catch the wave. Way too fast, the tide rolled next to her and she forgot everything Zane had said. The board bounced; she squeezed her eyes shut and thought about throwing up.

You are not a quitter. She forced her eyes open, pushed up, and…toppled sideways.

The current tossed her head over feet and pulled her under. She immediately swallowed more salty water, and her eyes stung. She struggled, her arms flailing like mad, her legs kicking but getting her nowhere. Her lungs screamed for air. Then she heard Zane’s voice in her head, telling her not to fight it, to go with the current if she got pulled under. She stopped battling, let her legs and arms turn to spaghetti, and prayed it didn’t take long to break the surface.

Ten, nine, eight… In a few more seconds she wouldn’t be able to hold her breath any longer. Swim. She needed to swim. Diagonal to the shore, only she had no idea where the shore was. Then, by some miracle, warm sunshine bathed her face and she gulped for air.

She’d made it. Only she’d exhausted every muscle in her body, and after catching her breath and letting out a very weak “Help,” she slipped back under.

Strong arms scooped her up. She drew in a deep breath and inwardly rejoiced when fresh air entered her lungs. But it was dark. Her mind couldn’t focus. Voices echoed around her, incoherent. Where was the light?

A cool, hard surface met her back. The warmth that had engulfed her faded away. “Sophie? Can you hear me?”

“Ye-yes,” she whispered.

“Sophie, open your eyes.” His voice carried a powerful tenderness, and she wanted to do as he asked.

It took a moment, but she finally pried open her lids. She blinked over and over again. A blurry crowd had gathered around her on the beach. Her palms pressed into the sand and she tried to sit up. Why was everyone out of focus?

Because she’d lost her contacts in the ocean.

“Hey,” he—Zane—said as he brushed some hair away from her face.

“Hi,” Sophie answered. “Sorry about that.” Good thing she couldn’t exactly make him out or she would have been really embarrassed.

“You bet your sweet cheeks you’re sorry.” Honor. “You scared the crap out of me.” Her arms went around Sophie in a tight hug. “You’re okay now, right?”

“She’s fine,” Zane said, an edge to his voice Sophie hadn’t heard before.

A lifeguard pressed between two bystanders. “Everything all right here?”

“Umm…I think so.” A few pain relievers would banish the sledgehammer in her head and the soreness in her muscles.

Sophie heard a few murmurs of how Zane had saved her. How he was a hero. Since she couldn’t see him clearly, she wondered if pride or modesty shone in his gorgeous blue eyes.

“How about giving her some space,” Zane suggested. Seconds later, sunshine instead of shadows filled the airspace above her.

“Jesus, Zane,” a guy said. “What were you doing out there?”

“Drop it,” Zane said.

“She could have drowned, dude. Not what we—”

“I said drop it.”

Sophie used her hand to shield her eyes from the bright sun and looked up. “I’m okay.” She hated the sound of their upset voices and that she’d been the cause of it.

“Sophie, I’m Danny Ellis,” the guy said. He extended his hand and helped her up. “We talked on the phone. I’m Zane’s manager. And I handle his PR.”

“Hello.” Her legs trembled, but she willed the agitation away and wiped the sand off her backside. She was okay.

“We could try again,” Zane said.

“No, thanks.” One humiliation a day was enough. “I’m ready to go back to the hotel. You mind heading back with me, Honor?”

“Of course not.”

“Hang on,” Danny said. “We feel bad about how this went.” He elbowed Zane. “I know I speak for Zane, too.”

“Yes. I should have stuck closer to you out there.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sophie said, starting to turn. She felt shameful enough for both of them.

“Let us make it up to you. Be Zane’s guest for the opening of the film festival tomorrow night,” Danny said.

Sophie froze. Her synapses were definitely firing now. Sizzling, even. Cells sped through her blood faster than she thought possible. Her? The sexiest surfer alive’s date? Honor gripped her arm like she felt the same way. But Sophie couldn’t.

“That’s really nice of you to ask, but I’ll be working.”

“No problem. We’ll make it a working date,” Danny said.

“She’d love to!” Honor piped in. Then she bent and whispered in Sophie’s ear, “Let him be your Mr. Right Now.”

Sophie shivered at the thought. They came from two totally different worlds. Couldn’t be more opposite. Zane wasn’t looking at her with even the tiniest bit of interest. He didn’t associate with ordinary plain Janes. He was hot and worldly and popular and she was…not.

“I don’t—” she started to say.

“We won’t take no for an answer,” Danny said.

The depths of Zane’s blue eyes were inscrutable, but Sophie didn’t want to argue. After all, she needed to stay on good terms with all the festival participants. Her reputation depended on it.

“Okay,” she relented. “It’s a date.”