Sun Kissed (Crane Series) by Nancy Warren Page A

to be seriously disappointed.”
    Cam laughed shortly. “I won’t crash. I’ve got precious cargo on board.” He waited a bit and grinned. He jerked a thumb toward the back of the plane. “The new longboard demo. I’m trying it out this weekend.”
    Ha, ha. Weekend? He hadn’t mentioned anything about a weekend. “Is this an overnight surfing trip?” The engine roared, and she swiftly fastened her seat belt.
    “Did I forget to tell you?” he shouted over the noise of propellers.
    “Yes, you did.”
    “Don’t worry, I’ve got everything you’ll need.”
    He was just egotistical enough that he probably believed that, too. Still, it was a beautiful day, and she literally had a bird’s-eye view— once she stopped watching Cam at the controls, deciding he seemed to be doing what pilots usually did, and they were staying airborne. So, she gazed down at dry fields, farms, green leafy trees, and the sparkling blue waves.
    Cam brought the small plane down with barely a bump; naturally, there was a car waiting. Some kind of Australian SUV. They drove down a winding road with an amazing view of the bay on one side and the lush green hills on the other. Byron Bay was postcard-pretty, a big smiley-face curve of white sand and blue water. She tried not to notice how white the whitecaps were and concentrated on the smooth crescent of sand.
    “Where are we going?” she asked when they didn’t take the posted road to the public parking.
    “My house.”
    She swiveled in her seat to stare at him. “You have a house here?”
    “I have a lot of houses. I don’t like hotels. They’re too cold and unfriendly. Besides, real estate is a good investment.”
    Sure, she was a big land mogul herself, her with her one condo in San Francisco.
    His house was more of a large, ocean-front cottage and was all clean angles and modern lines. It had clearly been designed around the view and there were windows everywhere. Hardwood floors, cool colors, modern, sleek furniture. Two bedrooms and a loft. He’d made it his, though. He’d hung old surfboards on the walls like artwork along with surfing photos, tide charts, and ocean maps.
    “Want something to eat or drink before we go?”
    She shook her head. “I’m a little nervous about the surfing. I want to get it over with.”
    “All right, then. Get your cossy on and let’s go.”
    “Okay.” She took a deep breath. Surfing wasn’t going to kill her. Unless a shark got her, or the riptide, or one of those stone fish she’d read about . . . “Um, which bedroom?”
    “I use that one,” he pointed to the beachside room. “You’re welcome to join me, or take the other.”
    She didn’t even bother to answer, but strode to the other room. At the doorway, she asked, “Do I wear a wet suit?”
    He looked at her like she was crazy. “Naah.”
    So much for that idea. In a couple of minutes she was back out with her bathing suit on and her sarong, her sunhat, and glasses. She’d already lathered herself up with sunscreen. She was as ready as she was ever going to be. Cam was already outside with a couple of surfboards. They both looked enormous. Didn’t he know she’d never done this? She wanted something the size of a skateboard, not the monstrosity he was hauling around.
    When she raised this excellent point with him, he said, “Naah,” once more in that poetic way of his. “This is a learner board. Made of foam. You can’t hurt it.”
    “Very reassuring.”
    He only grinned at her, and then carried both boards to the beach. She followed, thinking if he was going to carry that big heavy board around for her he wasn’t all bad. He put the boards side by side and told her to lie on hers on her stomach and practice paddling in the sand. He threw himself onto his own board and demonstrated. She tried to concentrate on his technique and not on the tawny skin bulging with nicely defined muscles, or the way the sun caught highlights in his unruly hair, or the little patch of