Riding the Waves. Tawny Weber
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view her boss had meant.
Forcing her gaze to stay on the guy’s shoulders, broad and muscular as they were, she followed him and her luggage into the hotel to the reservations desk.
Thirty minutes later, she’d changed out of her practical travel clothes—a button-down shirt and khaki pants—and into an eye-wateringly bright floral sundress and had defiantly unbraided her long hair. The practical voice in her head argued that it’d just get tangled on the beach. She didn’t care. She figured freedom came with a few tangles.
Dru stepped out the back door of her bungalow and gasped. There, spread before her, was the most gorgeous beach she’d ever seen. Sand, soft and inviting, swept from as far as the eye could see. Beyond it the ocean, dark blue in the early-evening light, beat frothy white waves against the dull gold of the shore.
Just the sight of it filled her with a mellow sort of empowerment. Maybe it was the watercolor richness of the sky, purples bleeding into orange-tinged pink as the sun set behind the water. Or the wild intensity of the waves, their salty scent and roaring sound inviting her to come closer.
Or maybe it was just knowing she could do whatever she wanted. And what she wanted was to feel that water on her toes. Not bothering to go inside for her sandals, Dru skipped lightly down the wooden steps leading from her tiny patio to the still-warm sand.
Reveling in the feel of the tiny grains shifting around her feet, she headed straight for the water. It wasn’t until she was halfway there that she saw him.
Her heart, and her feet, stopped.
Her mouth went as dry as the sand clinging to her ankles. She didn’t blink when the soft breeze sent tendrils of her hair into her eyes, just batted it away so it didn’t interfere with her view.
Oh. My. God.
He was incredible. Like some water god, he flew over the waves. The water glistened on his golden skin like diamonds in the fading light. Arms outstretched, biceps glinting as he balanced on the deep purple surfboard. Was he real? A figment of her lusty imagination? The manifestation of her every sexual fantasy? Dru’s breath came in long, labored bursts. She was afraid to blink, fearing he’d disappear.
Her fingers itched to touch that bare chest, to run down the dusting of dark hair that perfectly highlighted his well-muscled abs. She stared as he got closer to shore, watching him shift his knees to a low crouch as he rode the wave all the way to the beach.
There was something so amazing about surfers. She’d always imagined them to be fearless. Able to embrace anything life handed them and ride it to success.
And talk about muscle control. That was the kind of guy who could rock against-a-wall sex and not drop the woman as she melted in orgasmic glory all over him.
Was he real? Or had her sex-deprived imagination conjured up the perfect man to fulfill her lusty desires?
About thirty feet away, she watched him walk across the sand. This close, she could see how young he was. Mid-twenties at the most. His dripping hair fell in inky black curls around his head, his beautiful face adding to the image of a Greek god come to life.
He stopped at the brightly decorated surf-shop bungalow, and she watched him key in a code, then open the door and store his board. His familiarity made it obvious he wasn’t a guest. Did he work at the surf shop? Or at the hotel?
Whatever he did, he was obviously out of her league. Not that it mattered. It wasn’t as if a sweet young thing like him would have any interest in an almost thirty-year-old scientist with social anxieties and repressed sexual needs.
Needs she’d been perfectly fine ignoring until Nikki had gotten her all riled up over her ridiculous ideas. Dru had no idea how to flirt, how to attract a man’s attention. Especially not a man like that. No matter what Nikki had suggested, Dru wasn’t here for a fling.
Except here he was. The most incredible man she’d ever seen. A man who would definitely not stop midthrust, but know how to bring a woman to a screaming orgasm, then make her writhe and beg for more.
And then he turned. Their eyes met. Dru’s breath lodged somewhere between her aching nipples and her dry mouth. His gaze holding her captive from twenty feet away, one corner of his mouth quirked in a charmingly adorable little-boy grin.
And he walked toward her. Frozen in the sand, Drucilla didn’t know if she should pull back her shoulders, stick out her chest and smile beguilingly. Or turn on her bare heel and run like hell.
2
ALEX MADDOW GAVE a quick shake of his head, his hair flying around his face as the drops of water scattered. The exhilaration of riding the waves still surged through his body. He filled his lungs with the salty evening air and gave a deep sigh of satisfaction.
There was nothing like surfing at sunset. The colors of the sky, the feel of the cooling air as it whipped around his body while he flew over the water. Incredible was the only word for it. God, he felt great.
Then he saw her. There, a glowing jewel against the pristine white adobe of the hotel. Talk about incredible. Simply stunning. Despite the aftereffects of the cold water, he stirred in hardening awareness. pImages** flooded his mind of naked bodies, breathy moans and exquisite pleasure.
He was never a man to deny his sexual needs, but Alex usually knew the woman’s name before he planned the many different ways he’d enjoy her body. Then again, he’d never experienced this intense, instantaneous lust-at-first-sight reaction to a woman before, either.
His eyes narrowed. She reminded him of one of those elfish princesses his mother used to read him stories about—the ones he’d always fallen in love with. Tall and slender, and her angular face commanded attention. Silvery-blond hair waved around her shoulders in a silken cape. The demureness of the cut of her calf-length sundress was at odds with the vivid turquoise-and-pink pattern. Bare toes curled sensually in the sand.
A slow smile of anticipation curved Alex’s lips. It was as if it was meant to be. From one exhilarating ride to the temptation of another. Never let it be said that Albert Alexander Maddow didn’t appreciate opportunity when fate placed it right in front of him. Especially an opportunity that stole his breath away, filling his mind with sexual challenge.
Through wasting time, he strode across the sand toward her, shoving his wet curls off his face as he moved. The closer he got, the more intrigued he was. Not because of her looks, but because of the look she was giving him. As though she couldn’t decide if he was a crazed ax murderer or how he’d taste covered in chocolate.
From the set of her chin and the way she shifted her body, lifting one shoulder and crossing her arms over her chest, she obviously figured she could handle either option. Alex grinned. There was nothing sexier than a confident woman.
And she was even better up close. Her brows, shades darker than her hair, slashed a strong arch over eyes so blue they were almost the same purple as the sunset. Her mouth was narrow, the upper lip heavier than the lower. He wanted to nibble on that lip, to run his tongue over it and see if it was as delicious as it looked.
Had he ever been so intensely, instantly attracted to a woman? Alex couldn’t recall and didn’t care. After all, the only thing that mattered was this moment and this woman.
Until the moment was over.
“Gorgeous,” he commented when he was a couple feet away from her. Her features didn’t add up to pretty individually, but put together, they were stunning. His fingers ached to trace the line of her throat down to the gentle swell of flesh pressing against the vivid floral cotton of her dress.
“The surf?” she asked after a brief hesitation. Even her voice was sexy. Low and husky, at odds with her ethereal appearance.
“The view,” he clarified, sensing that she wouldn’t appreciate surfeit flirtation. A man who prided himself on his intuition as much as his brains, he reined in his instinct to hit hard.
She obviously wasn’t fooled, though. She arched one brow,