Page 11 of Pure Temptation

Kendall snapped out of her thoughts and looked down the beach. And there was Daxon Miles, tanned, shirtless, his abs flexing with each step as he...jogged? With his injured calf? Slowly, she shook her head. What the hell was he thinking?

“I can’t believe you requested Kendall Clark,” Daxon muttered into the phone as he closed the door to his cabin.

“You’re welcome,” said Calvin brightly. Cheers erupted from some sort of sporting event in the background of the call.

“You stalked her and figured out where she was working now?”

“So you didn’t have to.”

The path from his cabin curved through flowering bushes that wafted their sweet scent. A woman walked by in a bikini, all smiles. The boardwalk crossed a stream and headed into the sand, where the cabins stretched out along the beach...if they could be called cabins. More like small luxury residences. In one direction, the island’s highest volcano rose up to a barren, treeless peak, and in the other, the endless blue-green ocean rippled and sparkled in the sunlight. Both tempting, both off-limits for anything remotely interesting. So instead, he was heading to the beach for an easy morning run, the best antidote for the stir-crazy he was already feeling, less than a day after arrival.

“You’ll thank me,” said Calvin, optimism oozing from his voice. “Just do whatever it takes to be ready for filming in two weeks. The Kalani has every service you could need.”

“And which kind of services are you recommending?” This was sounding a lot likego get laid.

“The kind that gets you back on the face of Moonlight Buttress for your free solo,” he said, his voice turning serious. “I mean it, Daxon. Do whatever it takes. We’ve built up a lot of hype around this climb, and I don’t think I need to tell you that we have a lot riding on it. You are the Pure Adrenaline brand, and people want to see you, shirtless, at the top of your game, in front of the camera. And with the Moonlight Buttress free solo and then the El Capitan free solo, you’re giving viewers a peek into the next level of crazy.”

“Nice way to put it,” Daxon grumbled.

When the Pure Adrenaline YouTube channel began, it had been all about having fun. Daxon had been the young upstart, back when their videos were all about taking each climb or dive or jump to the next level by filming it live. As viewership multiplied and sponsorships exploded, so did the offers for all-expenses-paid trips, endorsement opportunities and other ways to make money. During his mother’s hardest years, back before they knew what was wrong, he had been grateful for the money. After years of worrying about her, scrambling to make ends meet, he had taken those opportunities that fell into his lap so he could finally carry the financial burden for her. But none of it would last if the videos didn’t keep coming.

Which was why Calvin had come up with a strategy to make Pure Adrenaline into a more permanent business. Instead of putting up videos sporadically, whenever Daxon was ready to film, this new series on his explorations of elite free-climb spots was on a regular streaming schedule to encourage regular viewership. Daxon had already done a set of training videos on smaller routes, and the viewership bump had been impressive. A lot was riding on his ability to deliver a stellar performance on Moonlight Buttress...and then El Capitan. The latter was the ultimate free solo climb, and only one person had ever done it and survived. When Daxon succeeded on live camera, he’d be a legend—a living one. In between the two major climbs, Calvin had worked out a plan for merchandising, guest appearances on television and other publicity boosts. At the other end of all these plans was the hope that he could leverage his Pure Adrenaline image to be less reliant on his next live video. A long-term plan, as Calvin put it. Daxon still wasn’t sure about any of it, but he trusted his friend’s business instincts. That’s what had gotten them this far.

“This is an opportunity to make our business venture last, and it’s all resting on your image as a high-risk adventurer. People either want to be you or fuck you,” Calvin said with a derisive laugh. “But that attention depends on you in front of the camera. So find a way to redirect that adrenaline impulse for the week.”

Earlier that morning, he’d used the tablet Kendall had left for him to scroll through the Kalani’s recreational offerings—private dolphin sightings? Just the thought of spending an entire week on enforced relaxation was making him restless. Which was why he was going to focus the entire week on having fun with Kendall. Hopefully naked, at least some of the time. That thought cheered him up a bit.

“Is this the point where you say I need a girlfriend?”

“Nah. I think you’re right on that one,” said Calvin. “No one looking for a future together wants to watch you dangle from a sheer rock face, over and over again.”

Daxon had made this point to Calvin many times, and apparently, it was finally sinking in. Any relationships he had attempted ended not long after the woman understood that extreme adventures were his lifestyle, now and in the future. Plus he couldn’t afford to be distracted by someone on the ground. He never said that last part aloud to a woman, but they all seemed to get the message anyway.

“But there are other options for fun of the less serious variety,” Calvin continued, chuckling. “Both men and women have come back from this place positively rejuvenated.”

“Kendall would probably kick you in the balls if she heard that, even if that’s not why you requested her,” Daxon grumbled. “Plus, rejuvenated is quite a promise to a guy who’s not getting any younger.”

He hung up his phone as he wandered along the boardwalk, past more cabins and through a lush tangle of palms and what looked like ferns, until the pathway split. In one direction, arrowed signs pointed him toward Reception, the pool, the spa and various other facilities. In the other direction, a lone sign pointed him toward the beach. He sighed and headed that way.

Daxon glanced at his watch. It was 7:28 a.m., and he was already itching to do something. He had completed a round of pull-ups on the fingerboard he had installed in the bedroom doorway, and he’d do another round when he got back. Then Kendall would show up for his physical therapy session and make everything feel better.

The boardwalk ended, opening up onto the sand. A smattering of palms guided the way to the shore, and everything else in front of him was sand and ocean. No people, no cameras, nothing except him and the elements and his goddamn injured calf.

But it hadn’t bothered him at all when he woke up this morning, not sore or stiff, maybe thanks to the massage Kendall had given him yesterday. All attraction aside, she was really good at what she did.

Daxon walked across the soft sand, letting his leg muscles stretch with each stride. The resort was located on a rather remote part of the North Shore, far from other developments, so there was nothing else in sight, just the stretch of beach and greenery that disappeared in the gentle curve of the Hawaiian shoreline. He could probably run for thirty minutes in one direction and thirty minutes back without much strain.

Daxon reached the shore and stopped, facing the ocean, taking the time to stretch on the empty beach. What the hell was everyone else at this place doing? Sleeping? Fucking? Soon this area would be filled with rich, sunburned mainlanders, but for now, at least he was alone.

He used to spend long stretches of time on his own when he first got into adrenaline sports. No one around, just him and the natural world as he climbed a peak or jumped out of a plane and fell toward the ground. And he had liked it that way. Now, for this new venture, everything he did was monitored by a camera crew, with three takes to get better angles and Calvin’s direction for maximum viewer appeal.

But right now, it was time to ease some of the tension, both mind and body. Daxon started off at a leisurely pace, nothing like the clip he’d take if he were in top form. If Kendall were here, she’d probably tell him that running was a stupid risk. Maybe it was, but it was also key to keeping him sane in paradise. And she would never know the difference.

The ocean breeze was a warm caress against his skin, a welcome change from the dry heat of southern Utah. He had spent a number of hot days and cold nights in Zion National Park, just hiking around, getting the feel of the place after the summer tourists had scattered. Moonlight Buttress was an old friend, one of his earliest challenges in his home state and off-camera, so he was more than ready for his second free solo of it. Free, with no partner, with no harness. Just the mountain and him. And his camera crew this time, of course.

He had done plenty of practice climbs with ropes, choreographing his route while harnessed in. He wouldn’t think twice about this plan if it weren’t for the injury. And Moonlight Buttress was calling to him, louder every day. The wide canyons of Zion that stretched out below him, the red rock face rising up on either side, the chalk on his fingers, when the only sounds were the quiet wind and the scrape of rubber soles on the rock.

Pulling the earbuds out of his pocket, he selected one of the focus tracks on his audio app, then slipped his phone into his shorts pocket. Each track was thirty minutes, serving as a perfect timer for his run.