Page 26 of California Waves

She remembered seeing bits of the video on the news and had been charmed, like the rest of the world. Her gaze darted to the bottom of the screen, and she saw that the video had millions of views. It was strange. Now that she knew him in real life, she knew Herschel was a private kind of guy. He wanted a house with lots of land so he could roam freely, away from any neighbors. He wanted privacy and quiet and to be close to nature. Yet here he was, making a happy spectacle of himself in space just for the love of his mom. She had to admire how he set aside his more introverted self to do something special for the number one woman in his life. She grinned again as the song ended and had to admit that she wanted that man. Badly.

As tended to happen with YouTube, another, related video began to load. This one was a news story loaded with the horrific details of how Hersch had nearly died. She drew away from the screen, afraid to watch though he’d made it out alive. As the story unfolded, she found her eyes filling with tears. It was almost unbearable to listen as the news reporters so calmly disclosed the rescue efforts. The malfunctioning capsule floundered in the stormy ocean, and one by one the astronauts were rescued. Just as it was Herschel’s turn—the last man out—a ferocious wave knocked the doomed capsule sideways.

She shook her head at the screen. He must have been so scared.

One of the commentators, a former astronaut, explained how astronauts’ muscles tended to atrophy while they were in space, and no matter how strong a swimmer Herschel Greenfield was, it would be all too easy to drown after months in microgravity. While the world held its collective breath, amazingly, miraculously, he was picked up. The footage was pretty rough, but she saw the brave way he lifted his hand in a wave as he was hauled up onto the rescue boat.

She wiped a tear off her cheek. How thoughtless she’d been to push him to get back in the water—to offer surf lessons so many times. She vowed to stay away from the subject and respect what the man had been through.

Even as she had the thought, though, she knew deep down that he needed to find his way back—at least to be able to get his feet in the water, maybe swim a little bit.

The next video was a montage of his exploits as an Ironman competitor. She felt her jaw drop at how easy he made it look, though she knew it was physically grueling. Her jaw stayed dropped as she checked out his hot body. That man knew a thing or two about how to build muscle. The montage ended with his last competition, two years ago. He’d been a pretty high-level Ironman competitor, but he hadn’t competed since that last space mission.

She could help him. She only hoped he would give her a chance.

* * *

Herschel had gone for a long run, come back, and done a good stint on the exercise bike. He’d even, God help him, looked at some home decorating shows on HGTV and then shaken his head at the preposterous designs some people liked. He just couldn’t get excited about home décor without Mila Davenport around. And he couldn’t get her out of his head.

Finally, he got into bed with his laptop. Pretending he was just going to check the news headlines, Hersch found himself on Google, doing a search on Mila Davenport. Obviously, he already knew a little about her—she’d been a champion surfer and on the cover of a sports magazine—but there were lots of old videos of her on YouTube. He was drawn to them and clicked on one where she’d just won a big competition in Australia. He lost his breath at her amazing feats on the water, but also by how beautiful she was in interviews afterward. She was so natural, so glorious and free. Fearless was the word that kept coming to his mind. She gave a big but humble smile as she received her medal and some pretty hefty prize money.

He watched another video, utterly entranced by the way she moved in harmony with the ocean. He even forgot for a moment how much he hated the damn water.

From the moment he’d met her, he’d found Mila gorgeous and sexy, but oddly, he found her more appealing now than he would have found her younger self. This more mature version was intriguing to him, and the fact that she’d gone through something difficult and triumphed only intensified her allure in his eyes. Yes, she’d been a goddess riding those waves, and maybe her smile wasn’t quite as carefree, and she didn’t look out at the world with the certainty she once had, but he thought her twisted path made her more interesting and probably more compassionate.

Sexy thoughts clouded his mind as she told an interviewer about her amazing ride, until his attention was suddenly brought back to the screen as right on camera, a guy, obviously another surfer, confidently strode toward Mila and gave her a huge kiss. He was over-muscled in a really show-offy way, and if that blond, streaky hair was natural, Herschel would shave off his own moustache and eat it.

In fact, Hersch felt his right hand clench into a fist. He wanted to punch the guy’s lights out. He watched, glued to the scene and unable to look away, like it was a car crash. The surfer dude made sure that the minute he’d finished that inappropriate on-camera kiss, he kept the attention on himself by slinging an arm around Mila and turning to face the interviewer. He was stealing Mila’s thunder, and Hersch hated it. What a jerk. No one should ever eclipse Mila like that.

Finally, he flipped to the next YouTube video, and there he encountered the story about her injury. He couldn’t help but watch the ride. It looked terrifying—the massive wave curling over her, the way she stood on the board as though she owned the waves, ruled the ocean. The sky behind her was a perfect blue, the sun a blazing orb that made a dazzling spectacle of her long blonde hair. Her body was so confident, so strong, and yet lithe and supple. Her strength was incredible. And then, seemingly out of nowhere, the wave turned on her, huge and roaring, curling in a way that made him sick to his stomach, and she succumbed to its power and size. He felt physically ill watching her body swallowed whole by that wave, her board tossed into the air above her and then disappearing too. He was glued to the screen, watching in what felt like slow motion for her body to reappear, but it never did. The announcer, who had been going on about her perfect form and the great ride and relaying some of her stats, gasped, and then his voice changed as he relayed the fall. The camera moved away from the ocean and followed a medical team as they rushed from the beach to her aid. They, too, seemed so small and helpless against the backdrop of another huge wave that loomed in the background.

Hersch held his breath. Although he knew that she’d come through this accident and was alive and well, he couldn’t help but fear for her safety. From what he could understand, the wave had taken her off course and slammed her onto a reef on her back, and she was left floundering, unable to swim back to shore.

Nausea struck Hersch so suddenly he put his head between his knees. His body began to shake as the memory of being swept out into the ocean took over. He practiced the deep-breathing techniques the medics had taught him. In through the nose, out through the mouth.

When he looked back at the screen, Mila was being carried down the beach on a stretcher, a lock of her wet, blonde hair trailing behind. He reached out his hand and touched the screen, not even realizing at first that he was doing it.

* * *

By Thursday, Hersch’s house deal was good to go. The money had transferred, and Hersch was due at her office any minute to pick up the keys. She was amazed at how her heart fluttered a little bit every time somebody new walked into the office. Was it him? And then she’d see it wasn’t, and her heart would sink. She’d get her head back into work only for the door to open again… and more disappointment.

Honestly, she felt like a teenager. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt like this about a guy. What was wrong with her? Clearly, she needed some sex. Maybe that was all she needed—for her and Hersch to burn up the sheets a little bit and get this out of her system. She couldn’t stay this distracted. If things went on like this, she was going to make a mistake at work. It was like she had no control over her body anymore. She tingled just at the thought of him. Yep, she was woman enough to admit she had it bad.

When he finally did arrive, around midmorning, she could see through the glass wall of her office that he’d been out hiking or running or had come from the gym, because he had ruddy cheeks and extra-bright eyes and was wearing workout gear. She loved that in an office full of Hugo Boss and Armani suits, he showed up in a pair of bright red shorts that showed off excellent legs, running shoes, and a NASA T-shirt. He looked athletic and dorky, and she loved it.

She was finishing up a call, so she waved him into her office. He hesitated at the door as she said her good-byes and entered only after she smiled and beckoned him in again. Up close, he looked so healthy and sturdy that she couldn’t help but compare the image to the man she’d watched on YouTube last night, who’d been swept into the ocean and nearly hadn’t made it back.

She was suddenly flooded with relief to see him so vital. Almost unable to help herself, she got up from her desk and, without any further consideration, threw her arms around him. That sexy smell of him filled her nose, and she inhaled deeply.

Almost breathless, she whispered into his ear, “I’m so glad you’re still alive.”

He returned the hug, giving her a slightly awkward pat on the back, and then they pulled away.

She could see that he was taken aback by the hug and her overfamiliar greeting. Mentally, she kicked herself. How had her emotions gotten the better of her? She was used to being poised, to maintaining control of herself.

To try to regain some composure, she pretended she was greeting him for the first time. “This is all such great news. I’ve never had a house sell so fast. The sellers—”

“Wait,” he interrupted. “Why did you say what you said when I walked in? I mean, I’m glad I’m still alive, too, but it’s not the normal way you greet everyone you sell a house to, is it?”

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