Risking It All. Stephanie Tyler

it had to be the best voice in the world. Low, husky, soothing. Keep him talking….

      “What’s your name short for?” he asked.

      “Carina,” she replied. She’d never used her more formal name, having been nicknamed almost at birth by her sister. “What’s Cash short for?”

      “What can I do for you, Rina from New York?”

      “How did you know I was from New York?”

      “Your voice gave you away.” He leaned against his surfboard with one arm, used the other hand to trace a slow caress down her cheek toward her lips. It left a trail of cool, salt water, and she licked the corner of her mouth without thinking. He grinned. “Do you need surfing lessons?”

      “No. I’m a documentary filmmaker,” she began, and wondered when the heck she’d become so stupid-sounding, like some schoolgirl who didn’t think before she spoke.

      You have got to get out more.

      “So, documentary filmmakers aren’t allowed to surf?” he asked, as he took his hand off her cheek and shook the water out of his hair. There was still a wide grin on his face that told her he knew he’d made her blush, and that he liked it.

      “Um, I guess we are. But it’s not something I’m really interested in learning.”

      “You sure? You’re dressed for it, and the water’s beautiful today, especially for your first time.” He started to ease the bag off her shoulder as he gestured toward the ocean, and it would be so easy to let him take her out into the waves.

      “I’d just slow you down, but thanks.” She pushed the bag back up to her shoulder.

      “I’m pretty patient,” he said, moved in a little closer to her, and she knew that had to be a complete lie. The man radiated energy from every limb, like a panther on the prowl for something. Or someone.

      She rubbed her bare arms with her palms. “I’m going to have to pass on the lesson.”

      “So, what are you interested in then?”

      “You,” she said, and she wanted to sink into the sand the moment she said it, although Cash was smiling at her again. A wicked kind of smile. He was throwing her right off her game by living up to the larger-than-life image the way she knew he would.

      She took a deep breath. “Let me start over. I’m editing a documentary on big-wave surfing. The cameraman on the project shot some film of you yesterday, over at the Pipeline….”

      “Man, those waves at Pipe were killer,” he said then, turned to check out the waves currently crashing to shore. “I got rocked a few times.”

      “I noticed. Didn’t that hurt?”

      “Part of the thrill. Line between pleasure and pain, love and hate,” he said, and oh, how she wanted to cross that line now. Meeting him in person had somehow changed everything for her. “I don’t remember seeing you yesterday.”

      “It wasn’t me behind the camera. I’m just the editor on this project.”

      “I didn’t know I was being filmed.”

      “Well, you looked great in the video,” she said, and he smiled when she blushed again. “I mean, your surfing form looks great. Not that I know much about surfing, but you made me want to learn more about it.”

      “So I inspired you, then? Even though documentary filmmakers don’t surf?”

      Yes, inspired was the one word she’d definitely use. “It does you justice.”

      “You think so?”

      “Yes. It definitely highlights all your…abilities.”

      “Not all of them, Rina,” he said and oh, my God, what was she supposed to do with that?

      Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

      “From what I’ve learned about the surfing world, having companies sponsor you is the only way to make a living at it as a professional,” she said.

      “I’m not a pro.”

      “Not yet. This documentary will do it for you though. Maybe you’ve seen the video series this is going to be a part of. It’s been showcased in some pretty big markets—the first one got high ratings. It was all about drag racing and it’s called X-treme Sports.”

      He groaned, and she had a sinking suspicion that things were about to go off the rails. “You’re not spelling extreme with an X, are you?”

      “Yes, we are.” She’d cringed when the project had first been pitched, but it had strong commercial appeal, based on the widespread popularity of these kinds of sports. Discovery Network was optioning the series, as well. This was a significant chance to get her name in front of some important people and they could put a bow on it and call it a pig for all she cared, as long as the end result of grant money was the same.

      “It’s worse than I thought. And, for the record, I can go slowly when I need to. When it counts.”

      She ignored his comments and pressed on. “You never signed the release form, and I can’t use you in the film unless you sign off. And I’ve got the paper right here,” she explained, holding it out toward him.

      “Can’t,” he said, shaking his head after a momentary glance at the form. And suddenly, with the threat of her best video crashing like the surf, all bets, and thoughts of taking this man to bed, were off. Over. And, after pulling an all-nighter to get the film ready for Vic’s viewing, her patience, always in short supply to begin with, was gone.

      “Why not? I mean, it’s all legal. It only says that we’ve got permission to use your images.”

      “I don’t want in,” he said.

      “Maybe we can come to some sort of compromise,” she suggested, mentally calculating the amount of effort it was going to take in order to cut his scenes completely from the tape and still hand it in to the producer on time.

      “Afraid not.” He grabbed his board and tried to move past her, but she blocked his way.

      God, he was big. Broad shoulders, broad chest, and he really did tower over her. And he didn’t look happy. “If I have to take you out of the video, it’ll ruin everything,” she tried.

      “You don’t give up, do you?” he asked.

      “Never. What can I do to convince you?”

      He sighed. “There’s nothing you can do, honey.”

      “Look, this could be a big break for you,” she implored.

      “But I’m not looking for a big break.”

      “I don’t see a reason why you’d say no,” she argued. Unless he really was a criminal with something to hide. Either way, she’d have to resort to begging and pleading. “Please, I’ll do anything….”

      Wait, had she said anything? Because she certainly hadn’t meant anything, but it was out there and Cash wasn’t about to let it go.

      “Anything?” he asked. He’d cocked one eyebrow and his gaze swept over her.

      “I didn’t… I won’t sleep with you….” Not now, anyway. If he’d brought it up earlier, when she was still drooling and her fantasy hadn’t disintegrated, who knew?

      “I didn’t ask you to. You’re the one who brought it up,” he interrupted her stammering explanation. “Do you always proposition men to get them to sign release forms?”

      “No!”

      “So I’m just one of the lucky ones?” he demanded. “Maybe I should talk with your boss because I’ve got a bad feeling about this, like even if I say no, I’ll still end up on that tape.”

      “I wouldn’t