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My words trailed off. I was trying not to sigh, but it was already too late.
“The truth is, I never wanted this,” I said. “The publishing part, that is. My father was the one who talked me into it. Renting the house. Writing the stories in conjunction with each other.” I let my mouth go tight. “The other guys were into it too, of course. They were all thrilled we’d be using my father’s connections…”
“But you don’t think those connections are necessary,” said Kayleen.
I shrugged. “It’s kinda like Stephen King. For a little while, he published stories under a pseudonym: Richard Bachman. At that point in his career he wanted to know if he was selling books because they were actually good or just because of his name.”
“And what happened?”
“Someone recognized his writing,” I said. “They looked up Richard Bachman and somehow tied him to King. At that point it was over. Everyone ran out and bought the Bachman books.”
She looked up at me expectantly. “But?”
“But for a while… his books were selling. He was making it on his abilities, and not just on his fame.”
Kayleen took another long pull from her water bottle. She looked at me over the tops of her sunglasses.
“So you wanna make it yourself, is that it?”
There it was, finally laid out there. Totally bare. I thought about it for a moment, long and hard.
“I— I think so.”
Kayleen shrugged. I watched as she brushed a swath of dried sand from her sun-kissed body. “Then do it,” she said simply.
I let out a short, acrid laugh. “Just like that, huh?”
“Just like that,” she smiled.
I lost focus a little as she drew her legs against her amazing chest, hooking her arms in front of her knees. Kayleen was looking me over now. Her eyes sparkled as she dragged them over my body, stopping briefly at my shoulders, my arms, my abs…
“See anything you like?”
It felt good to know I wasn’t the only one. I’d been checking her out in her bikini all day.
“Maybe,” she grinned.
I reached out and pulled her on top of me, body to body, face to face. Her skin was still cool from the ocean, but I could feel the warmth of blood, rushing just beneath.
Her wet hair cascaded down around our faces. It created a little cocoon of privacy and silence, cutting us off from the world.
“You’re gorgeous,” I said, feeling suddenly breathless.
“I am, huh?”
She dropped her face an inch and kissed me, sweetly, on the lips. A split second later, we were both trying to spit grains of sand from our mouths.
Kayleen giggled, then sat up on me. She planted her hands on my chest.
“Head back and share a shower?”
I was still in a daze, admiring that perfect, beautiful face. Eventually I nodded from the sand.
I gasped as she pushed off me and abruptly leapt to her feet. She landed on both feet — exactly as she did on her surfboard — before sprinting off.
“First one to the car gets the radio,” she called back.
Twenty-Five
