Making Waves. Julie Kenner

over.

      The man who’d ruined her reputation.

      And yes, the man she’d once loved with all her heart and soul.

      Taylor Dutton.

      2

      NICE TO KNOWsome things never changed, Taylor thought as he took the brunt of Laci’s wrath. Her fiery temper—not to mention the sexy gleam in her eye—was exactly as he’d remembered it. And exactly what he’d been missing.

      Laci Montgomery had gotten under his skin last year, and he’d never managed to shake her loose, despite the fact that she hated him for something he hadn’t even done. The machinations, sure. But how the hell was he supposed to know that the press would jump to the conclusion that the only reason she was a featured exhibition participant was because they were sharing a bed? It had been his job to find exciting new talent for the competition, and he’d fallen head over heels for the sexiest, most exciting woman that he’d ever run across on the surf circuit.

      Yeah, he’d fallen in love with her.

      And yeah, he’d wanted the whole world to fall in love with her, too.

      So he’d brought her in as a wild-card contestant, and it was just their bad luck that some idiot reporter looking for a headline realized they’d been dating. But so what? It wasn’t as if Laci didn’t know her way around a board. She was absolutely brilliant on the waves.

      He’d told her not to worry about it—he’d even managed to get the press to focus on her skills and rocketlike climb up through the surfing ranks. But like a dog with a bone, they’d refused to drop the sex angle.

      And, okay, maybe it was his fault for mentioning to a reporter that they were dating, but he’d only said it because he was so proud of her. Laci, however, hadn’t seen it that way, especially after the press had jumped all over the story. And because of that, Laci dropped him. In her mind, since he’d been in charge of the media relations for the competition, he took the blame for their rabid reporting. As if he’d intentionally leaked them a hot story.

      As if he hadn’t been falling head over heels in love with her when she’d yanked the rug right out from under him.

      He’d been pissed—no, he’d been furious—and she’d added fuel to his already raging fire when she’d walked out on both him and the competition, leaving a hole in his heart and a chip on his shoulder. He’d been angry ever since. Angry at himself for mishandling the entire situation, and angry at Laci for not having guts enough to face the press and tell them to take a flying leap. Her surfing was what had gotten her into the exhibition, and anyone with two eyes on the waves could tell that just by looking at her perform.

      She’d never even tried to defend her skill, though, and that was the one thing he’d never understood. It gnawed on him, especially since running away hadn’t changed the Big, Bad Media’s opinion. Just the opposite, actually. Her knee-jerk reaction had only increased the speculation that she’d used sex to get her name on the exhibition roster in the first place.

      He’d been smug at first, figuring it served her right for being so cavalier with his heart. Then the anger had faded, and he owned up to being a major jerk. The truth was, he’d pulled her in because she was a damn good surfer, and as a newbie promoter with the responsibility of helping to launch a new competition, he needed as many damn good surfers as he could get. And it didn’t hurt if the surfers were camera-friendly, which Laci certainly was.

      And yes, he’d picked her because she was his girlfriend. At the time, he’d believed he was doing her a favor—getting her name out there and her talent on display.

      It had never occurred to him that the media would insinuate that she’d landed her position in the competition by sleeping with him. He’d been blindsided—he could admit that now—and he hadn’t handled the situation well at all.

      In fact, not only had he not handled it well, but he hadn’t handled her at all. He’d basically told her to buck up, and never once had he simply let her cry on his shoulder. He’d been The Promoter, not The Boyfriend, and that failure, along with all his other mistakes, had killed their relationship.

      But even now—even knowing all that—he still didn’t understand why she hadn’t fought back. Why hadn’t she made a statement or ignored the media or just shown any backbone at all? What he did know was that he’d been a major player in making her hurt.

      And didn’t that feel just dandy in his heart?

      For months, he’d wanted to call her, but he’d been too afraid of getting slapped down again. So he’d stayed away, silently watching her climb back through the ranks, her reputation soaring as her skill on the waves outshone the stench of bad media and cruel rumors.

      But as they both moved deeper and deeper into the surfing circuit, keeping his distance was proving to be difficult. Especially with Reginald Pierce riding him.

      The truth was, Taylor was truly grateful to Reggie. The owner of XtremeSportNet, Reggie had called Taylor into his corner office last week and asked if he’d booked his flight for Hawaii.

      Taylor had shaken his head, baffled. “I’m not even going to Hawaii,” he’d said, though he half wished he was. She would be there, after all, and a piece of his soul longed to see Laci again. “Morgan has the ball on that. I’m heading down to Sydney to get things in place for Danger.” The Danger Down Under event was a brand-new competition that XtremeSportNet had dreamed up, and against all odds, Reggie had decided to put Taylor in the driver’s seat. As assignments went, if Taylor could pull it off, this one would ensure that his career was destined for top management.

      Taylor most definitely intended to pull it off. And in a big, big way.

      He had his media lined up, his cosponsors and his headlining surfers. So Taylor couldn’t imagine why Reggie wanted him to waste even a minute in Hawaii when he needed to be at the far end of the Pacific.

      But where Reggie was concerned, Taylor had learned to trust first and ask questions later. After all, Reggie had plucked him away from a competing company only one month after Taylor had worked San Clemente. Reggie had said that he saw a spark in Taylor, a spark that needed room to burn, and Taylor had been working his way up the XtremeSportNet ranks for the last year.

      At this rate, he’d be working at corporate headquarters before his thirtieth birthday.

      Since coming onboard with XtremeSportNet, all of Taylor’s dreams were coming true. The Georgia boy who’d grown up without a penny to his name now had a full-to-popping bank account. Money, respect and a solid career path—everything he’d craved. Everything his parents had never had, and it was all right there at his fingertips. All he had to do was keep his job.

      All he had to do was keep Reggie happy.

      And if keeping Reggie happy meant that Taylor had to suffer the horrors of a meeting in beautiful, exotic Hawaii…well, there were worse things a boss could ask a guy to do.

      It wasn’t until Taylor set foot on the island that Reggie slipped an ulterior motive his way, insisting that Taylor “make nice” to “our wild-card gal.”

      Taylor had blinked, and his confusion must have shown on his face, because Reggie had leaned forward across his desk. “Any bad blood that’s left between you two, you clear it away. I want it gone by the time Banzai starts. You got that?”