Riding the Waves. Tawny Weber

have surfed before, no,” she said, her gaze meeting his again. There was a summing-up, a calculation in her eyes. He recognized the look. Felt the sexual pull of it tugging at him. It was the kind of expression that said she wondered how he’d look without his swim trunks and could he keep it up long enough to make her scream with pleasure.

      Then, as if realizing he’d caught the look, she blinked. Color, soft pale pink, swept over her cheeks. But she didn’t drop her gaze. Almost defiantly, she kept those indigo eyes on his.

      A slow, challenging grin spread over his face. He would enjoy showing her both the view and his talents.

      “Surfing is like sex,” he told her softly. “An intense ride on a lover that knows how to push you to your limits, then bring you back to earth with a gentle kiss and an invitation to ride again.”

      He waited to see if she’d blush a second time.

      “You don’t say.” Her sharp cheekbones blush free, she gave him a long, cool look, then shook her head. “Somehow I doubt that tempting promise of pleasure is quite the same for a beginner. I’d imagine there’s a lot more flailing around, falling and inhaling seawater.”

      “Not if you have the right teacher,” he assured her, taking a small step closer. The sand shifted under his bare feet. He inhaled deeply. Her perfume filled his senses, even from a foot away. Was it stronger along her throat? If he buried his face in the curve, just where her breasts started to swell, would it overwhelm him?

      “I might look into surf lessons while I’m here,” she evaded, not taking the sex-talk bait.

      “I’ll teach you.”

      She gave a nervous little laugh, the sound saying she’d just bet he would. A shutter dropped, her expression chilling almost as much as his body as the evening breeze teased the water still coating his skin.

      “It’s okay,” he assured her, figuring she was smart to ice up. He was a stranger, after all. For now. “The Surf Shack is a part of the hotel’s offering. I teach for them.”

      She didn’t appear to be reassured. Not sure why, Alex put on his safest, most trustworthy face. The kind he hoped seemed nonthreatening. Even though he wanted to go in the opposite direction, he took a tiny step back. He instantly missed the scent of her perfume, flowery and rich, over the salty scent of the ocean.

      “You can check at the hotel. Just ask anyone about Alex and surfing. They’ll vouch for me.” He was pretty sure the last time he’d come this close to begging a woman to spend time with him occurred when he was sixteen and trying to find a date to his first college formal.

      Still, she hesitated. Her gaze slid from his face to the Surf Shack, a tiny frown furrowing the alabaster skin between those deep blue eyes.

      He saw the refusal on her lips.

      “Just say maybe,” he suggested before she could say anything.

      Humor flashed in those stunning eyes and she raised one brow, then shrugged.

      “Maybe,” she murmured. Then, without another word, not even a yes-I-want-to-do-you-until-we-both-get-sand-burns look, she turned away.

      He watched her go, rubbing a hand over the bruised ache in his chest and wondering what the hell had just happened. He felt as if he’d been smacked upside the head with his board in a total wipeout disaster—exhilarated, confused and wondering if he’d done permanent damage.

      Crazy, he told himself. Women were many things. Alluring, captivating, desirable. They were fun, felt incredible and made perfect temporary companions. But dangerous?

      He shook his head, his damp curls falling over his eyes a reminder that he’d better get them cut before he reported in for his real job at the end of the month.

      Dangerous, he thought again. Nah.

      There was nothing risky about making time with a stunning blonde who had a yen to learn the magic of the ocean. The only thing at stake was a little time and the possibility of some righteously awesome sex.

      SITTING AT THE HOTEL’S dining patio basking in the sunshine the next morning, Dru sipped her coffee. The rich aroma filled her senses. Dark, robust and strong. The perfect accompaniment to her decadent breakfast—stuffed French toast, chorizo and spicy fried potatoes.

      All favorites, all bad for her. Exactly what she needed to start this vacation right, she thought with a sigh as she set her coffee cup down. Especially after waking from the most incredibly hot, orgasmic dream she’d ever experienced.

      Vivid pImages** of her and the gorgeous man from the beach doing it in wicked abandon on his surfboard filled her mind. She shifted in her wicker chair and wished the waiter would come over and refill her ice water. She definitely needed to cool off.

      She hadn’t been able to get the sexy surf god out of her mind, and obviously her subconscious had put his image and all Nikki’s talk about vacation flings together and served her up a montage of sensual impressions. Since the dream-induced orgasm had rocked, she wasn’t going to knock it.

      A chorus of greetings, in both English and Spanish, rang out along the edge of the dining patio. Dru pulled her attention away from the ocean to glance at the commotion.

      As if her musings had conjured him, the sexy surf god of her dreams sauntered up the tile steps and greeted both guests and hotel staff.

      Dru’s breath tripped, her pulse racing. He was even better in sunlight. She’d spent half the night telling herself it was the romance of the surf and moonlight that had made him look like a Greek god. That, and the mostly naked expanse of delicious male flesh she’d been mesmerized by.

      But no, even with that gorgeous chest covered by a pristine white T-shirt, he was still the tastiest-looking thing she’d seen all morning. She took a sip of her water, needing to wet her lips and afraid to add any more caffeine to her already racing heart rate.

      He seemed familiar with everyone. Obviously he’d been telling the truth when he’d said he worked for the hotel. She shifted in her chair, trying to ease the building pressure between her suddenly damp thighs.

      As if she were sitting at the table, Nikki’s voice chimed in Drucilla’s head: Go for it. He’s hot, he’s sexy. He’s perfect vacation-fling material.

      Just like the night before, she didn’t know if she should listen to the voice—and her body’s urgings—or run like hell.

      Then his eyes met hers. He murmured something to the people circling him. Then, a wide, wicked grin on his face, he crossed the patio. A tilt of his chin toward the waiter had him a cup of coffee before he reached her table.

      “May I join you?” he asked,

      Nerves, from both sexual awareness and her ever-present shyness, flooded her system. Despite the little voice urging her to run, she waved her hand toward the empty seat across from her in invitation.

      “I didn’t introduce myself last night. I’m Alex,” he said, sliding into the chair and helping himself to one of the blueberry muffins in the basket on her table.

      “Drucilla,” she said, automatically offering her hand to shake.

      Mistake, she realized as he took her fingers in his. Warmth, with its hypnotically sexy pull, poured from his palm into hers. Her body tried to melt, right there into his hand. A puddle of lust over the breakfast table.

      No, not going there, she scolded herself as she tugged her hand away. Needing to cool off at the thought, she reached for her ice water.

      “Did you sleep well, Drucilla?”

      Had he peeked into her mind to know she’d tossed and turned in sweaty homage to the dream orgasm he’d given her? She almost choked on her water. Calling herself silly, Dru brushed the thought aside and gave him a little shrug and a smile.

      “I rarely sleep easily my first night after traveling,” she excused.

      “You should