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“Yep. And the blender is always going.” Honor bounced up and down. “We’ll take the edge off you. You’re nervous. I can tell. One or two mini-margs and you’ll be cool as they come with Zane.”
She hoped Honor was right. And cursed her darn habit of fidgeting when anxious. That combined with her easy blush made her the perfect target for Zane’s teasing, and that just wouldn’t do. She’d been around plenty of good-looking men, and just because Zane took handsome to a brand-new level didn’t mean her brain cells had to crash-land. After she performed her duties tonight during the reception and made sure the films kicking off the festival had started without a hitch, she’d join Zane. When the movies ended, she’d excuse herself to oversee the cleanup and make sure things were in place for tomorrow’s Taste of White Strand,taking place before the film screenings.
He’d most likely attend one of the after-parties, and Sophie would head back to her hotel for a soak in the bathtub with her romance novel.
She would not, under any circumstance, give any more thought to her crush after that.
…
“So yeah, there I was, paddling into a lineup with Zane, thinking holy shit, I’m surfing with Zane Hollander. The water was ego-to-ego with surfers that day, so the only waves I caught were when Zane shouldered away the show-offs. My last attempt to prove I was semi-decent, I sailed down the line, but hell if the guy next to me wasn’t pulling a three-sixty aerial.”
Zane threw his head back and laughed. As a sports reporter for theSurf Times, Chris wrote a lot better than he surfed.
“But this guy.” Chris pointed at Zane and continued talking to the people around them. “He made a fuss over my abysmal rideandthe other surfer’s freestyle jump, like the two were equally impressive. That’s why I love him. He gets excited for everyone out there.”
“Thanks, man,” Zane said. “You want to go out again, just let me know.” He looked around at the group of reporters, festival staff members, and guests surrounding him in the large outdoor foyer of the White Strand Cultural Center and Gardens. “I’m happy to take anyone out.”
“I’d love to give it a try,” a female reporter said. She eyed him with much more than surfing on her mind.
Zane didn’t take the bait. After leaving Sophie last night, a weird conviction to keep himself in check had taken hold. “Let my manager know, and he’ll see if we’ve got any time.”
She arched an eyebrow and continued to look at him like she didn’t need much time at all to accomplish what was really on her mind.
“Have you been in touch with Sophie Birch since your surf lesson yesterday?” Chris asked.
Zane’s attention jumped to Chris. “I have, actually. She’s…” He cleared his throat. “She’s my date for this evening.” He glanced around the bluff-top Spanish Colonial estate thinking maybe he’d catch sight of her, but the crowd had grown. The opening-night reception was always popular, and he’d forgotten to ask where they should meet up.
“Your date, huh?”
Zane waited for Chris to say more, but he didn’t. Why that made Zane nervous, he wasn’t sure. It could be the surprise and amusement he’d heard in Chris’s tone. But that was good. Sophie wasn’t like any of his usual dates, and Chris was intrigued.
Conversation veered to the films, and Zane talked easily about his film,Isolated Warriors. “We tried to capture the simple but risky stoke of surfing,” Zane said. He and his team had traveled the globe from Australia to Hawaii to Sri Lanka to shred the best, most savage backwash out there.
“So we can expect scenes with some powerful, high-risk breaks?” Chris asked.
“I hope you’ll be blown away by the footage. Gnarly waves and no hassling with other guys meant our filmmakers could grab amazing shots, and I think the lens caught much more emotional depth and complexity than we expected.” The other surfers and the camera work had awed Zane.
“We pushed the limits on clean point breaks and ferocious swells and added a kick-ass soundtrack. It’s not just a self-absorbed montage of barrels and huge airs, but something more.”
“And I just read your proceeds are going to SHE.” Chris typed something into his cell phone. The casual atmosphere didn’t mean things said were off the record.
“Yes. Would you excuse me? I see someone I need to speak with.” He feigned interest in Danny, who’d just walked by. He didn’t want to talk about SHE just yet, didn’t want to say the wrong thing.
The reception buzzed with energy. Conversations and laughter filled the air space. Long tables with white tablecloths and platters of appetizers were set up. Two bartenders worked a bar underneath one of the curved archways across the tiled ground. The Beach Boys played through speakers mounted on the smooth stucco walls.
Zane took a less-traveled path until he reached the edge of the grounds and a spectacular view of the Pacific. He raked a hand through his hair and relished the quiet until the loudest sneeze he’d ever heard drew his attention to a woman standing under a palm tree, her gaze out to the sea.
Auburn hair fell in soft waves around her bare shoulders. A loose emerald dress covered her slender frame, but showed off a sexy pair of legs in a pair of killer high heels that kicked his pulse from a walk to a run. Slowly, his gaze traveled up to a pert nose that couldn’t possibly have made such a powerful sound. The corners of his mouth lifted.
Wait a second.
“Sophie?”
She turned, and those green eyes of hers sucked him in further. They matched the color of her dress. He stepped closer.
“Hi, Zane.” She wiped a tissue under her nose.
“You okay?”
