Break of Day (19 page)

“Eh.” I waved her off. “Someone would have recognized your brilliance eventually. I'm just lucky I got to you first.”

She sighed. “Look, Asher, I'm sorry I accused you of only giving me the job to hook up with me. That was stupid and I had no right to say what I did. It's just . . . all my life people have always had agendas, you know? I've never been given something for nothing.”

“You weren't in this case either, may I remind you,” I said. “Whether you want to admit it or not, you're a great producer. I just saw that before anyone else did, that's all.”

We fell silent for a moment, letting the hum of the restaurant soundtrack the scene. But it wasn't an uncomfortable silence
this time. In fact, it was almost . . . intimate. Sitting there, lost in our own thoughts, yet still feeling very connected.

My mind wandered back to the afternoon we'd first met. At Beth and Mac's wedding. The conversation we'd had about her wanting to corner Richard about the morning show writing position. I cringed as I remembered the dumb joke I'd made about it being a terrible job. She must have despised me then—this arrogant asshole being so dismissive of something she'd worked so hard for. This stupid rich guy—who had been given everything—and yet appreciated nothing.

Of course I had more to my story, too. But she wouldn't have known that, just as I hadn't known about her.

I looked up. “Remember what you asked me the last time we were here?”

“You mean about what you wanted to be when you grew up?” she asked, her eyes sparkling. “I believe you chose surf bum as your top career choice.”

I raked a hand through my hair, feeling my cheeks heat. “Yeah. That sounds about right,” I said with a sigh. “To be honest, the question caught me off guard. I was never given that choice growing up, you know? I was always destined to be a meteorologist from birth.”

Piper nodded, giving me a sympathetic look.

“In any case, I really loved working with Jayden today. It'd be cool if I could someday do something like that. Even if it was just on the side.”

“What do you mean? Like start a surf school?”

“Yeah, but . . . like a surf school for kids who can't afford it. I mean, I'm guessing the Holloway House doesn't have a lot of money for extracurricular activities.”

“Uh, no. They barely have enough for clothing and food.”

“Right. Well, what if I could supplement that? Start a program that would allow them to take lessons regularly.” I shrugged. “I don't know. Maybe it's a stupid idea.”

“It's an amazing idea, actually,” she said after a pause. “It wouldn't be easy, though. Jayden was very well behaved today. But he's not always so charming. And some of the others can be a real pain to deal with. They're troubled kids.”

“Which is why surfing is so perfect. It's healing. It can boost a kid's confidence,” I replied. “And like you said, they need something to look forward to—like you did back in the day. Maybe for some of them, surfing could be that thing.”

She nodded slowly, considering, but I could see the excitement rise to her cheeks and it made my stomach flip. She liked the idea. She really liked it. A surge of enthusiasm shot through me, and my mind raced with new plans.

It was time for the Joker to get serious.

T
he most important tip to remember when you're out in the water? Use the buddy system. It may save your life,” Asher said as he addressed the camera. “Plus,” he added with a wink, “it's usually way more fun.”

I snorted at the impromptu line that, of course, hadn't been in the original script I'd written. But it was
so
Asher and I knew the ladies back home would more than appreciate the sentiment. As would the powers-that-be back at the station. Yet another home run from Team Weather.

The last couple weeks had gone by in a blur. Asher and I had been working overtime—literally—putting together the best weather stories—and accurate forecasts—the station had ever seen. Asher was a man on a mission and I was his right-hand girl and together we rocked each day's story like bosses. News 9's ratings were up and its Facebook page was filled with Asher fans, begging for more of their favorite sexy weather guy. Just like they had once upon a time begged for his father.

Off air, things were equally as busy. I was still pulling as many shifts as I could manage at the Holloway House
and Asher was working day and night to pull together all the pieces necessary to start his surf school. When he'd first told me the idea, I'd thought he was just dreaming—that nothing would actually come from it. But I'd evidently underestimated the new and improved Asher Anderson.

He'd found a location on the Chula Vista shore, so the school wouldn't be too far from the Holloway House, and bought a bus to transport the kids to and from the school. He contacted various companies he'd worked with in the past to acquire boards and wet suits and all the other gear needed and he hired instructors who had experience working with beginners. Sometimes I worried about the amount of money he was pouring into the operation, but he didn't seem to bat an eye at any of it. And those same eyes shone with excitement every time he spoke of the venture.

It was as if, for the first time in his life, he had something to look forward to. Something to work toward that hadn't been handed to him on a silver platter. And he was rising to the challenge, working his ass off, and loving every minute of it.

Speaking of loving, I was really starting to love my new job, too. Sure, it wasn't investigative producing—my ultimate dream job. But it was interesting and satisfying and I was learning more and more about how weather worked each day. I was becoming an integral part of the station, too, a vital cog in the wheel, rather than the anonymous girl in the trenches I'd once been.

There was only one thing that was holding me back: my lingering fear of the water. As a weather producer in a beach town, there were several occasions where the stories the assignment desk asked us to cover required ride-alongs with the Coast Guard or spending the day on the beach. Of course Asher would always step in and cover those without complaint, but sometimes I knew him leaving the station meant he couldn't spend enough time on his forecast. He never complained about this, of course. But I always felt as if I was letting him down. Letting the entire station down. And I was pretty sure a few fellow employees were starting to notice.

It was frustrating to say the least. After all I'd accomplished, after how hard I'd worked—how could I let some childhood phobia roadblock me in the end? My mom was in rehab, getting help for her addictions. Asher had transformed himself into a new man. Now seemed as good a time as any to face my own demons and conquer them.

I just needed to get Asher on board. Literally, in this case.

“Base to Unit Seven.”

Asher dashed to the truck. “Unit Seven. Are we clear?”

“You're clear,” Nancy, the producer, chirped on the other end. “Richard said to tell you good job, too.”

Asher raised an eyebrow, shooting an amused look in my direction. “Are you sure it was Richard? And he really used the word
good
? Are you sure he knew he was talking about me?”

Nancy laughed. “Actually, I think he really meant your partner in crime. But I'm confident you'll figure out a way to take the credit.”

“Nah.” Asher waved her off. “You tell him it was all her genius. Piper wrote the script. She did most of the interviews, too. I'm just the hot guy who reads things that smart people put in front of me.”

“Sounds about right.” Nancy chuckled. “We'll see you back at the station, hot stuff.”

Asher hung up the handset and turned to me. “Another day, another job well done,” he pronounced. “We make quite a team, Red.”

“That we do, Anderson.”

“So what are you doing tonight? Besides celebrating that awesome story we rocked, that is.”

“Well,” I said, “I was thinking of binge watching
Orphan Black
. But I did have another thought . . .”

Asher's eyebrows raised in interest. “Yes . . . ?”

I drew in a breath.
Here goes nothing.

“Would you take me out on the boat?”

His smile faded. “What?”

I stubbed my toe into the sand. “It's time,” I said. “I need
to get over this stupid fear I have of the water before it kills my career.”

Asher frowned. “It's not a stupid fear. It's perfectly justified after what you went through.”

“I went through a lot of things,” I interjected. “But I've never let any of them stop me—except this. I'm sick of living in fear. Of not being able to do my job. What if one day you can't go on the water assignment for me and I have to go by myself? What if I can't handle it and make a fool of myself? What if it gets me fired?”

Asher opened his mouth to protest, but I held up my hand. “I'm going to do this,” I told him. “One way or another. So you can either take me out on the boat tonight. Or I'll find someone else who will.”

“Absolutely not,” Asher replied. “If you're going on the water, you're going with me.”

I
'm not going to lie; I almost bailed on the boat ride at the last minute. What had seemed like a good idea when I mentioned it to Asher earlier had now grown into a completely crazy proposal as the afternoon ticked away. What had I been thinking? What on earth had possessed me to voluntarily subject myself to my worst nightmare?

But in the end I forced myself to stay strong. I reminded myself how embarrassed I'd been at Beth's wedding, freaking out and interrupting the ceremony over some silly wave. And how pathetic I'd felt when I had had to bail on the boat ride Asher had set up our first night together. How, because of my fear, he'd ended up being forced to take Sarah out instead.

And lastly, of course, there was work. It was interfering with my work and I never wanted anything to interfere with that. I had to get over this. One way or another. And if Asher was willing to help, well, so much the better.

I figured a boat ride was a good jumping off point, too—pun certainly not intended. For one thing it would allow me to get used to the water—without actually touching any water. I wouldn't have to swim. Someone experienced could
captain the vehicle. All I had to do was sit back and enjoy the ride.

Or, you know, survive it at the very least.

So I handed my keys over to the valet and walked down to the dock at the yacht club, once more with feeling. There I found Asher, standing on the shore, holding a life jacket in his hands. I drew in a breath; he looked so good standing there. Tall, strong, in charge—his silhouette illuminated by an old gas lamppost. The silhouette of a guy who would never let anything happen to someone in his charge.

I bit my lower lip.
I can do this. I can totally do this.

Asher handed me the life jacket. “You don't have to wear it,” he explained. “By law you just have to have it accessible.”

I put it on anyway, strapping it to my chest. I wasn't taking any chances. To Asher's credit, he didn't make any jokes.

“Are you ready for this?” he asked instead.

“As I'll ever be.”

He slipped a hand into mine and we walked in silence down the dock. Which was absolutely
nothing
like walking a plank, I scolded my frenzied brain. When we reached the boat, he stepped one foot onto it, to help me board. As I took a step, his hand brushed my waist, sending a jolt of heat straight through me—so hot I almost didn't notice the way the boat rocked as I set my weight on it.

And so it began.

As I'd mentioned before, the last few weeks had been great for my career. What I hadn't mentioned was how terrible they'd been for my libido. Asher had been a total gentleman—never once trying to make a move after I'd asked him not to. Unfortunately the more unattainable he became, the more I found I wanted him. In fact, at times, when we were alone in the weather center, it was all I could do not to lock the door and jump his bones. But that would just complicate things further. We were coworkers. We were friends.

We were alone on a romantic boat ride and all he'd had to do was casually touch me and my body was humming. This was going to be a long night.

I had to admit, the boat he'd picked out was pretty sweet.
Smaller than I'd pictured, with white-leather cushions and a fancy big brass steering wheel. There was even a little hatch down below with a small sleeping area—like a cozy little sea cave. A good retreat, I decided, if things got too real above deck. I could crawl inside, shut the door, and pretend I wasn't at sea.

“Are you sure you want to leave the dock?” Asher asked. “We could just have lesson number one right here. Get you used to being on the boat.”

“No,” I said. “I need to do this for real. I want it to count.”

“Okay,” he said. “But you let me know when you start feeling nervous. I can stop and turn around at any time.”

I nodded, gratitude washing over me at his obvious concern. Over the past few weeks I'd seen such a different side to Asher than most people saw. The layers of his callous, arrogant exterior had begun to peel away and a sweet, gentle man had emerged from beneath. Which was even more enticing, in my opinion, than his handsome outer shell.

I settled into my seat and Asher took the wheel. Soon we were gliding across the bay, leaving the dock behind us and heading out into open sea. At first I tried to focus on the horizon, but as the distance between the boat and dry land stretched out farther and farther, I turned my eyes to Asher instead.

Did I mention he looked good? 'Cause he looked really, really good. Standing at the wheel, straight-backed and broad-shouldered. As confident as I was petrified. The look on his face said this was no big deal—that this was nothing to worry about. I just needed to sit back and enjoy the ride. He would take care of the rest.

He would take care of me.

I forced myself to look back out onto the water. Watch the brilliant sun slip down beneath the horizon, casting golden shimmers on the sea in its wake. Out here, I noted, there were no frothy waves to toss us around, no frightening sounds of the surf crashing against the shore. Just a slight bobbing up and down as the boat navigated the sea's glassy surface and the sound of a few small, almost inaudible splashes as the
water licked the sides of the boat. It was almost weirdly peaceful—as long as I didn't look down to see how deep the water went.

Finally, Asher dropped anchor, joining me on the couch. Reaching into a lower hatch, he pulled out a picnic basket draped in white linen.

“The chef at the yacht club makes the most delicious surf and turf,” he informed me in an ultra-serious voice. “But I told him we had other plans.” In a
ta-da
movement, he yanked off the linen, revealing a basket of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and a big bag of potato chips.

“I made them myself,” he declared, looking all too proud.

I laughed, clapping my hands together. “Perfect!” I pronounced. And it was.

Feeling brave, I slipped out of my life jacket, setting it beside me, and grabbed a sandwich from the basket. It wasn't the prettiest PB&J I'd ever seen, with jelly leaking out the sides, but at that moment, to me, it was better than any five-star meal in the world. Because of the guy who had made it. The guy who had paid attention enough to remember how I'd said eating peanut butter and jelly as a child had always made me feel better.

“How are you doing?” Asher asked, after taking and swallowing a bite of his own.

“I'm okay actually,” I said. “I'm trying not to think about how far out we are. Or how deep the waters are.”

“I'm proud of you,” he replied, his voice taking on a husky tone that almost succeeded in making me forget about the aforementioned deep waters. “I know this can't be easy. What you went through with your brother—I can't even imagine.” He paused, his cheek reddening. “Sorry, I shouldn't be bringing that up, should I?”

“It's okay,” I assured him. Then I drew in a breath. “But to be honest? I'd rather talk about why you love the sea than the reasons I don't. What makes it so special for you? When did it become such an important part of your life?”

He nodded slowly, clasping his hands together in front of him, staring out into the water. For a moment, he didn't
speak and I half wondered if he was going to answer the question. Then, at last, he opened his mouth.

“Most people look at me and see someone who was born with every advantage,” he began in a slow voice. “And they wouldn't be wrong, I guess. Growing up, I never worried about having food on the table or clothes to wear or a roof over my head.” He raked a hand through his hair. “But that didn't mean my childhood was particularly happy.”

He sighed. “It's hard to justify complaining about it—especially to someone like you who had to deal with so much real shit growing up. What is it they joke about? First world problems? But they were still problems for me. At times—big ones.”

“Go on,” I urged.

“Growing up, my family spent a lot of effort keeping up appearances,” he said. “Like any family in the public eye would, I suppose. My father was a household name and everyone expected him to live a certain lifestyle. And my mother—well, she had to always hustle to keep the station in the black. Wine and dine the advertisers, make them feel special. You should have seen the parties they used to throw. Wild swinger bashes at our beach house—with all the who's who in San Diego. You'd be shocked if I started naming names.” He made a face. “I guess that's called living the good life. But to be the only kid amongst all that hedonism—it was a bit of a nightmare.”

“I can imagine.”

“Usually I'd hide up in my room at night, pillow over my head, hands in my ears. Trying to block it all out. But sometimes they weren't content to leave me alone. Sometimes my drunken mother would try to drag me downstairs to put on a show for her guests. Like I was some freaking show pony or trained monkey. And if I refused to perform? Well, let's just say letting the family down came with . . . consequences the next day.”

I winced, my mind flashing back to what he'd said about Sarah and the boat ride. About how his mother had practically pimped him out to her favorite advertiser's daughter.
As if he were a prop, an asset to the family business, rather than an actual member of the family. Had she been doing this to Asher his whole life? No wonder he treated everything like a joke—when he himself had never been taken seriously.

“Anyway,” Asher continued, “on the bad nights, on the nights when I knew she would come for me, sometimes I'd escape out my window and run down to the shore. Down to the ocean where everything was quiet and peaceful and no one would demand anything from me. I could walk the shoreline all night, imagining I was some brave explorer, discovering a new world. One where no one could hurt me.

“The ocean didn't have expectations of me. It didn't need me to impress its friends. It didn't try to make me into someone I wasn't. Instead, it embraced me, welcomed me, warts and all.” He stared out into the calm waters, a contemplative look on his face. “It also gave me a feeling of power, too. I mean, there I was, some scrawny, scared kid who couldn't even say no to his own mother. But out here, on the ocean, I was suddenly a god, able to tame nature itself. Taking on a mighty ocean wave and riding it to shore—reclaiming all the power I'd lost in real life.” He gave me a sheepish look. “Okay, that sounds dumb when I say it out loud.”

“Actually it doesn't,” I assured him. “In fact it sounds amazing.”

“I guess that's why I love the idea of doing a surf school for those kids,” he said. “They feel as helpless as I did back then—even if it's for a different reason. If I can help them reclaim their power, their sense of self-worth, who knows what they may be able to channel that into someday?”

He turned to me, his face fierce with his ambition, and my heart squeezed at the determination I saw in his eyes.
This
was the Asher no one else saw. The one everyone dismissed before getting to know. This was the Asher who was
worth
getting to know.

The Asher who I was falling for—despite my best efforts.

I leaned forward, my lips crashing into his own with reckless abandon, my tongue plunging into his mouth. No
longer content to hear his words—I needed to taste them. Devour them whole—despite the fact it was a terrible idea. In that moment, I needed skin against skin. Flesh against flesh. I didn't care about the consequences, the future. All that mattered was Asher—sweet Asher—in my arms.

For a moment, he sat still, as if shocked into stasis by my unexpected move. But it didn't take him long to recover. And soon his hands were dropping to the small of my back as he pulled me to him, my stomach swirling madly as he sat me on his lap, coaxing my mouth to widen, the kiss to deepen. My mind spun as I drank in the sweetness of the kiss, the heat from his hands as they slipped under my shirt and connected with bare skin. Soon I found myself grinding against him, rejoicing at the feeling of his growing arousal pressed up against my core.

“God, Piper,” he murmured, planting kisses along my jawline, his hands searing a path from my back to my hips, locking me in place. “You are seriously going to kill me.”

His hands reached up, cupping my breasts, and I moaned into his ear as his lips trailed kisses down my neck to the hollow spot in my clavicle. I pressed myself against him again, trying desperately to satisfy the soul-deep ache burning inside of me. My hands wrapped around his neck.

I knew it was wrong. I knew we shouldn't have been doing this. But at that moment, for the life of me I couldn't remember why. All I could focus on was the here. The now. The man who had his hands up my shirt.

Suddenly, the boat jerked, causing me to lose my balance. My stomach lurched and I would have fallen if Asher hadn't tightened his hold on me at the last second. Heart pounding in my chest, I scrambled to my feet, breaking our embrace, looking around with horror.

The once glassy sea was now a blender, rocking and rolling and spitting chunks of foam. My eyes rose to see angry storm clouds had rolled in, smothering the horizon, all but blocking out the setting sun. A moment later, I felt the first drops of rain.

Asher rose to his feet. “Shit,” I heard him murmur under his breath. He walked over and scanned the instrument panel while I waited, barely able to breathe.

“What is it?” I demanded. Something about the look on his face told me whatever it was, it was not good news.

“Everything's fine,” he assured me, though his tense expression told another story. “It's just a small storm rolling in. A bit faster and harder than I would have liked but it's no big deal.”

I swallowed hard, the adrenaline spiking through my veins. I tried to keep my eyes on Asher and not look out over the water. “We should get back to shore then.”