Chapter 1

“Don’t these people have jobs?” Christian Montgomery murmured to himself as he sipped his morning coffee.

For a while now, he had taken to having his coffee out on his deck before going into work. It was a chance to breathe in the fresh air and have some peace before the craziness of his day. People-watching had become his favorite hobby, and as odd as it sounded, he found it relaxing and therapeutic.

Scanning the sand, he smiled at the small circle of people doing yoga off to his left. Every day they were out there stretching and holding their poses, and it was almost hypnotic to watch. At times, he even found himself deep breathing along with them, as he imagined they were doing.

Not far from them was a trio of fishermen. Not once had Christian ever seen them catch anything, but they were out there religiously every morning—rain or shine. That was one hobby he had never had an interest in. It looked boring. Those guys were there before Christian came out on his deck, and he imagined they stayed out there long after he left for work. He could only hope they caught some fish.

Then there were the surfers. They were also hypnotic to watch but offered a bit more excitement. There was no way he could even imagine himself doing what those people did, but it was cool as hell to watch. Some of them were amazing at it, while others sort of…well, they tried.

Which reminded him…

“Oh, this is glorious! I could totally get used to this!”

Great. His mother was awake and encroaching on his peaceful time.

Looking out at the waves crashing on the shore, he took another sip of his coffee before turning to look at his mother. “You’re up early.”

She took a long sip of her own steaming coffee before answering. “Well, as much as I complain about your father’s snoring, it appears I can’t sleep without him.” With a serene smile, she added, “Besides, I was hoping to have a few minutes with you before you left for the office.”

He’d been avoiding this sort of thing. After getting ambushed at Megan and Alex’s engagement party with the news that his mother and aunt would be coming home with him, Christian had been doing his best to stay out of their way. But apparently, his reprieve was up.

He almost jumped at the feel of his mother’s hand covering his. She looked so sweet, yet he had a feeling there was more to this trip to San Diego than starting some sort of wellness program.

“You work too hard,” she said, point blank. “Monica and I tried waiting up for you, but we were both exhausted and couldn’t wait any longer. What time did you finally come home?”

“I don’t know. Sometime around eleven.”

She made a disapproving sound. “Were you working all that time or did you happen to have a date?”

It was a challenge not to roll his eyes. “I was working, Mom. I wouldn’t have blown you and Aunt Monica off for a date.”

“Well…you should,” she argued lightly. “It wouldn’t kill you to get out and date more.”

“Mom…”

Placing her mug on the deck railing, she faced him. “Christian, you remind me so much of your father.” Then she paused. “And that’s not a compliment.”

Okay, this was new.

“I don’t know everything that happened in London and I don’t want to know,” she stated. “What I do know is that it’s gone on long enough. You work too much, you spend far too much time alone, and I can’t ignore it anymore.”

Christian sighed wearily and drank the rest of his coffee before putting his mug beside hers.

“I get that you’re disappointed in me—”

Her soft gasp stopped him.

“Christian, I could never be disappointed in you. Ever,” she said vehemently. “But I look at you and I can see you’re not happy.” Reaching up, she cupped his cheek. “No mother wants to see her child unhappy. You need a life outside of work.”

“That’s not what Dad thinks,” he mumbled.

“You know you don’t have to do everything your father says, don’t you?” Her words were soft and firm and when Christian looked at her, he saw a hint of a smirk on her face. “Your father is a very intelligent man, but not everything he says is the gospel truth. As a matter of fact, I think it’s safe to say that where anything outside of work is concerned, your father doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

Christian couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’re pretty feisty early in the morning,” he teased.

She waved him off. “I’m feisty all the time, but no one seems to pay attention.”

So many thoughts were racing through his mind. It was easy to stand here and say he didn’t have to listen to his father—or anyone for that matter—but actually doing it without letting the guilt eat away at him were two different things. And it didn’t matter how old he was or how independent he was, for some reason his father could make him feel like an incompetent child with a few choice words.

“Christian,” she went on, interrupting his thoughts. “If you’re not happy in this career, you know you can change that, right? Just because you have the Montgomery name doesn’t mean you have to work for the company.”

“Everyone else does.”

This time her smile was patient and loving and so completely a mom look. “Your brother doesn’t, and for years your sister didn’t.”

“And now she does,” he gently reminded.

“But she turned down the opportunity for a big promotion because she realized she wanted more out of her life. And from what I understand, you helped her realize that.”

He felt himself blush. Clearing his throat, Christian turned and leaned on the railing. “Yeah, well… I hated the thought of Megan getting trapped like I am.”

He realized a little too late what he’d just admitted.

“Sweetheart, you’re not trapped,” his mother said quietly, her hand covering his again. “If there’s something you want to change, you should! Life is too short to stay in a place that makes you miserable.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m miserable—”

“But are you happy?” she quickly interrupted.

That question gave him pause. “Sometimes I think I am.”

Beside him, she sighed. “Do you like living in San Diego?”

“What’s not to like? I’ve got a great house right on the beach. The view alone makes it pretty spectacular.”

“Christian, you’ve been living here for five years and this isn’t even your house. If you like it here so much, why not find a place of your own and settle down?”

It was way too early in the morning for this conversation.

“Mom, Ryder and I have an agreement on the house. He’s fine with me living here, and he knows if he wants to sell, I’m the first one who’ll put an offer in.”

“You’re avoiding making any commitment here,” she gently chided. “It’s your cousin’s house and your father’s company, and I would love to see you pick something that was yours and enjoy it.”

“Bollocks,” he muttered, raking a hand through his hair.

With a small laugh, his mother scolded him. “No need for that language.”

He almost laughed with her. After spending so many years living in London, Christian had picked up a lot of the lingo and every once in a while, it came out.

Usually when he was annoyed.

“Mom,” he said with a huff of frustration. “This is not how I want to start the day—arguing with you about my life choices.”

“I’m not arguing—”

“You are,” he corrected.

“I’m concerned, Christian. There’s a difference.”

As much as he didn’t doubt that, the truth was that he just wasn’t in the mood for this particular discussion, so as a distraction, he hugged her. “And I love you for it.” He placed a kiss on the top of her head. “Now, tell me how your search for a wellness provider is going.”

If she knew why he was changing the subject, she kept it to herself. “I’ve been pleasantly surprised at how well things are falling into place. Patricia in human resources has been amazing!” She stepped out of his embrace and sat on the nearby chaise. “We’re going to be holding more interviews—but it’s a formality. Monica and I met the perfect applicant already.”

“So then why keep interviewing?”

“This particular applicant we haven’t formally interviewed yet, so we’re covering our bases.”

“Mom,” he admonished. “That’s not a great way to handle this.”

“Oh, hush. Trust me on this one. I want to have backups, but I am confident that once we do the formal interview, everything will fall into place.”

He studied his mother for a long moment and realized he didn’t want to get too involved in this. Just admitting that to himself let him relax. With a smile, he said, “I do trust you. You’ve done great things with this program, so who am I to tell you how you should be doing things?”

“Thank you.” She smiled proudly. “But the best part of the whole thing was how Patricia was able to secure office space that would require little to no work to modify.”

He nodded, thankful for that little bit of news. The last thing he wanted was to deal with the headache of office renovations.

“Basically, you won’t have to worry about a thing,” she continued. “All you need to do is be pleasant and greet whoever we hire in a way that won’t scare them away.”

Christian laughed. “I’m hardly scary, Mom.”

“You could smile more.” She was about to say something else but instead glanced toward the house. “I promised your father I’d call him this morning and you know he’ll worry if I don’t.” Walking over, she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before heading back inside.

The whoosh of relief at being alone came out before he knew it. As much as he loved his mother, she could be a bit exhausting.

Especially this early in the morning.

Turning his attention to the beach, a slow smile spread across his face. “There you are,” he said quietly.

With a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure his mother wasn’t coming out, Christian immediately returned his attention to the shore. Every morning, dozens of surfers came out and started their day by riding the waves. When he’d first moved to San Diego and into his cousin Ryder’s house, he’d been a bit annoyed at the constant sea of bodies practically right outside his door. It didn’t take long for him to realize they weren’t the least bit interested in him, they were here for the ocean. Nothing more, nothing less. And the longer he lived here, the more he appreciated all of the activity on the beach—particularly the surfing.

Surfing had never been something that interested him before, but one morning he’d come out on the deck with his cup of coffee and noticed one surfer in particular. Christian didn’t know any of them personally, but had named them each based on what he’d observed. For instance, there was Surfer Dude—a young guy with sun-bleached blond hair and a tan who embodied exactly what Christian has always envisioned a surfer would look like. Then there was Older Surfer Dude, who was exactly as described. After that the names were a little more random: Tie-Dye Guy, Too-Tan Girl, and Burly Guy. They were the regulars, but if someone new caught his attention, he usually gave them a name while he watched them.

Seriously, this had been his greatest form of entertainment.

Then there was her.

No nickname would do her justice.

With long red hair pulled up into a ponytail and skin that was far too fair to be out in the sun for long, she stood out in a sea of blond surfers. From this distance, Christian couldn’t be certain how tall she was, but if he had to guess, he’d say she was on the petite side. Dressed in long-sleeved black Lycra that encased an incredibly curvy body, she was completely captivating. Today’s bikini bottoms were neon pink. Her legs were just as spectacular without the fabric as they were with. If he was a bolder guy, he’d head to the water and pretend he was a surfer to get a closer look at her and maybe introduce himself.

But…he wasn’t.

And he couldn’t.

Duty called.

But not before he watched her attempt at surfing awhile longer.

For all her gear and apparent enthusiasm, she wasn’t a good surfer. Even without any real knowledge of the sport, Christian could tell she was a novice. He’d watched her stand and fall off her board more times than he cared to count, yet every time she fell, she got up and tried again.

He had to admire her perseverance.

And the way she looked soaking wet.

In his mind, he imagined being able to walk down to the water and right into it with her. He’d put his hands on her waist and help her onto her board. His touch would linger just a bit, and he knew his fingers would twitch with the need to feel her skin—to know if it was as soft as he imagined. In the suit she had on today, he could be bold and run a hand along her leg, skim her thigh before watching her swim into the current.

From there, he’d stay in the water to cool his own skin. He’d watch her catch a wave and ride it successfully until she was back at his side—exuberant at the thought of finally making it. She’d jump into his arms, wrap those magnificent legs around him, and kiss him.

Licking his lips, he could almost taste the salt, along with the softness of her. He almost groaned at the image.

From there he’d invite her up to the house and finally see how she looked without the Lycra.

No doubt it would be fantastic.

Behind him, he heard his mother and aunt laughing and boy, didn’t that kill the fantasy. Which was just as well—it wasn’t as if he could do anything about it. There was no way he was going down to the beach or into the water or…inviting his surfer girl back to the house.

The thought was more than a little disappointing.

He had to get ready for work. Just like he always did. There hadn’t been a day since he was fifteen when he hadn’t been responsible or gone to the office. Even all through college Christian had held a job with Montgomerys. Back then it was in his father’s New York office, then later he’d jumped at the opportunity to move to London—partly for the change of scenery and partly to have a little independence. That hadn’t gone quite as planned and now he was in San Diego, still making sure he never gave anyone a reason to question his dedication to the job.

Although…he was starting to question his own dedication. Lately, no matter how much he tried to tell himself otherwise, there was a growing discontent within himself. Maybe it was the job, or maybe it was just his life in general, he couldn’t be sure. All Christian knew was that there were a lot of people counting on him and he couldn’t sit out on his deck looking out at the ocean all day. He had a full day of appointments, and no matter how badly he’d like to—for once—play hooky and enjoy a day for himself, he couldn’t.

Joseph Montgomery wouldn’t allow him to.

And whose fault is that?

Yeah, yeah, yeah. He knew he was responsible for the position he was in now by refusing to stand up for himself early on and letting his father get away with calling the shots. They’d butted heads a lot—particularly in the past five years—but it didn’t change anything. Every time they fought, Christian would cave out of respect to his father, because if nothing else, he was a good son. This was their pattern of behavior and it was too late to change the dynamic.

Or was it?

He caught sight of his surfer girl flying off her board and smiled. That made four times in the short time he’d been watching. She came up laughing—as she often did—and in that instant, he envied her. Did she ever feel discouraged? Did she ever break through the water after a fall and scream bloody hell and just want to give up? She was clearly failing and yet…she was still smiling and finding joy in it. How was that possible? If it were him and he was the one out there constantly falling off his board, he would have given up by now. Sometimes you had to admit defeat and realize there would be some skills you simply couldn’t master. Didn’t she realize that?

Now wasn’t the time to find out, unfortunately. He had responsibilities and commitments and none of them made him feel joyful. If anything, he could already feel his body tensing up. It felt as if it began at the tip of his toes and was working its way up through his entire being—the muscles growing tighter until it felt constricting, like he couldn’t breathe.

It wasn’t the first time he’d felt that way, but it was happening with more and more frequency.

Rubbing a hand over his chest, Christian tried to calm down and clear his mind. Deep breaths, he reminded himself. Just take some deep breaths.

And for several minutes he did. It helped. Sort of. Either way, he felt well enough to grab his coffee mug and give one last look at the beach before heading into the house and preparing for another full day of…nothingness.

* * *

Sophie Bennington breathed through the pain as she made her way out of the ocean and onto the shore. That last wave had hit her hard and she knew she’d be feeling the effects of it for the rest of the day.

“So not the day for this,” she murmured, walking slowly to her stuff. It was still a bit surprising that she could leave her things in the sand and they’d go undisturbed, but right now she was thankful for it.

The beach wasn’t particularly crowded—just folks like her who were interested in catching some waves before they had to head off to their real jobs and responsibilities.

She dropped her board on the sand and sat on her towel. She inhaled the fresh air before letting the breath out slowly. If it were up to her, she’d stay here all day and enjoy the sunshine and sounds of the waves crashing on the beach. Unfortunately, that was no longer an option.

Sure, she’d been pretty much doing that for the last several weeks—not that she spent entire days on the beach, but she also hadn’t had any reason to rush off.

Not like today.

Today she had a job interview and almost broke out in a hallelujah chorus over it. Moving to a new state on a whim had been completely out of her comfort zone, but a healthy savings account had meant that she didn’t need to stress about finding a job right away. Part of her had felt like being a bit more rebellious and shirking some responsibility for a little while. But fun time was over, and her more practical side was coming out to remind her that she needed to find a job. She just hadn’t realized it might take longer than she wanted.

But…she was feeling extremely optimistic about this interview and she had more than enough credentials and experience, and by all accounts, she should be a shoo-in.

“Don’t go getting ahead of yourself,” she quietly reminded herself. “Just because you think you’re all that and a bag of chips doesn’t mean everyone else will.”

A girl could hope though, right?

All around her people were moving and laughing and doing their thing, while Sophie contemplated the day ahead. It had been a long time since she’d gone on a job interview. Having lived her entire life in a small town, she knew everyone. Add to that having gone to college in the next town over and living at home, getting a job had been handled over Sunday dinner or at the potluck after church. Dealing with strangers was going to be a bit of a challenge.

“But I’m up for it,” she said confidently. “I moved a thousand miles on my own, I can do this.”

Daily pep talks were becoming the norm for her and she wasn’t quite so sure that was a good thing. Basically, she was talking to herself.

A lot.

Refusing to let herself believe she was going crazy, Sophie stood and stretched. The sky was definitely getting brighter, the morning clouds had moved on, and she noticed a mini mass exodus to the parking lot. That meant it had to be around eight o’clock. Her interview was at eleven, so she had plenty of time, but she had a feeling it was going to take every one of those hours and minutes to get her nerves under control.

With a final look at the ocean, she collected her things. She’d gotten it down to a science—towel rolled and put in her backpack, sunglasses on, flip-flops in her hand, and board under her arm. It only weighed ten pounds, but it was awkward as hell to maneuver: the board was close to seven feet long and she was barely five foot three, but she was stronger than she looked. Most people tended to underestimate her—in just about every way—based on her size. What they didn’t know was that she had enough determination to do whatever she put her mind to and was willing to do the work to get it done.

Athletics came easy to her and at times, her size worked to her advantage. Where surfing was concerned, however, she had been encouraged to get a larger board until she gained some skills. That wasn’t happening nearly as fast as she’d hoped, and by now Sophie was seriously hoping that she could trade out for a smaller board.

“Soon,” she said, making her way back to the parking lot. “I just need to practice a little more.”

Or a lot, she corrected.

Walking across the lot, Sophie smiled at fellow beachgoers and said a word of thanks to the kind gentleman holding the door open for her at the surf shop. Renting her board made a lot more sense than going out and buying one outright—especially if she came to the conclusion that surfing wasn’t her thing.

“How’d it go today, Soph?” Randy, the owner of the surf shop, asked. He was in his mid-thirties and had the look of the perpetual surfer—tanned, shaggy hair, and puka-shell necklace included.

“I think I’m getting better,” she said optimistically. “But that last wave knocked the wind out of me and the board hit me pretty hard as I flipped.” Absently, she rubbed her hip. “No doubt I’ll have a nice bruise to show for it by lunchtime.”

“It goes with the territory,” he said, taking the board from her and giving her a receipt. “Do you want to try a different board tomorrow? Maybe something a little lighter?”

“You said this was the size I should be using, since I’m a beginner,” she reminded him. “And besides, I think I’m getting used to it. I need to work on my confidence and maybe my concentration.”

He grinned at her. “You should have taken more than one lesson. And while I can appreciate your enthusiasm, it never hurts to get a little help with your technique.”

Placing the receipt in her bag, she smiled. “I’ll think about it. Right now I’ve got to go and get ready for my job interview.”

His blue eyes widened. “Hey, that’s great! Did you finally opt to go with an agency?”

“I did,” she said, with just a touch of sadness. “They’re sending me today to meet with my first client company. It’s not exactly what I had planned, but…I’m sure it’s going to be great.”

It was important to stay optimistic.

Over the past several weeks, she’d shared a little about her job search with pretty much anyone who would listen in hopes of getting some recommendations. She’d begun to lose hope until she’d been talking to a couple of older ladies on the beach and they’d shared with her a lead on a potential position. That morning she had signed on with an agency and had mentioned the job opportunity to her contact. After some negotiation, Sophie had managed to secure the position—even though there were others at the agency who had seniority over her.

“Fingers crossed,” she said cheerily, walking toward the door. “If you don’t see me tomorrow, that means I’m starting a new job!”

“Good luck, Soph! I’m sure you’re going to do great!”

“Thanks, Ran!”

Pulling her keys out, she was in her car and on her way home in no time. Her studio apartment was only a mile from the beach, but traffic was already congesting the roads. It was nearing nine o’clock when she walked through her front door. Tossing her backpack on the sofa, Sophie immediately went to the refrigerator and poured herself a glass of orange juice. She was about to take a shower when her cell phone rang.

Taking the phone from her pack, she smiled and sighed at the same time.

“Hey, Nana,” she said, kicking off her flip-flops. “How are you this morning?”

“Oh, you know me. Can’t complain. How’s California treating you? Ready to come home yet?”

They had this conversation several times a week since Sophie moved away. “Nope. I’m enjoying the beach and the sunshine. I think I can see myself living here permanently.”

“Now, Soph, you know California is one of the most expensive places in the country to live. Why would you put all that extra stress on yourself, especially when you know the cost of living is so much more reasonable here in Kansas.”

“Not everything is about being cost-effective, Nana. Sometimes you have to leave your comfort zone to find what makes you happy. And worrying about the cost of living does not make me happy.”

“I’m sure it won’t—if you keep living there, the stress of it will make you downright miserable.”

I walked right into that one, she thought.

“I don’t think I’ll be worrying for too much longer.”

“Oh?”

“I have a job interview today!” she said excitedly.

Nana snorted softly.

“Oh, stop,” she chided. “I think it’s going to be perfect. It’s exactly what I was looking for—practically as if the job was created just for me!”

“Probably a scam.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

For her entire life, Nana had been her biggest champion—always telling Sophie there wasn’t anything she couldn’t do. She was the only parent Sophie had ever known, and Sophie knew that right now, Nana was lashing out like this because she missed her.

At least, she hoped that was why.

A weary sigh came over the phone before Nana spoke again. “I worry about you, that’s all. This whole thing—you moving away in a show of defiance, well…it’s hard for me. I thought you’d go and see that California wasn’t for you and just come home.”

Resting her head against the sofa cushion, Sophie let out her own sigh. “We’ve been over this. You know why I needed to do this.”

“I know, I know. And…I hope you find what you’re looking for, sweetheart. But I hate that you felt the need to do it so far away from me.”

For a moment, her heart hurt. “It was time for a change. I couldn’t stay there knowing—”

“I know,” Nana quickly said, and Sophie was thankful they weren’t going into details again. She couldn’t handle that right now. Not when she needed to focus on positive things.

“I went surfing again this morning,” she said, abruptly changing the subject.

“And? How did you do?” Nana asked, with her first hint of encouragement.

“Still not getting far, but I’m having fun!”

“That’s my girl.” She paused. “Tell me about this job you’re interviewing for. Is it really what you’re looking for, or are you settling because you need to find a job? Because if you’re going to settle, you know I can help you out financially until you find the right one.”

It would be easy to accept the financial help. And right now, with her bank account balance dwindling, a little padding wouldn’t hurt. But she’d sworn to herself that she’d make it on her own no matter what. She wasn’t broke, and today’s meeting was a done deal. They were going to be her first clients, and once she proved herself to the agency, no doubt she’d get a few more assignments.

“I’m fine, Nana. I promise. I have a good feeling about today.” For the next several minutes she talked about the position and all it would entail and could barely contain her excitement. By the time she was done explaining, Sophie was almost breathless. “So now I have to shower and find something to wear and do something with my hair so I don’t look crazy—”

“Your hair is beautiful. If you use one of those silver clips I gave you, it will be perfect.” Nana was silent for a moment before adding, “You’re perfect. And don’t you ever forget it.”

And just like that, Sophie relaxed.

To most people, she might come off as being confident, but sometimes she needed a few words of encouragement from the one person who loved her.

“Thanks, Nana.”

“Go and show these people why they are lucky to have you! And promise you’ll call me later and tell me all about it.”

Smiling, Sophie replied, “I will.”

Placing the phone on the cushion next to her, she wondered why life wasn’t always as simple as it used to be. There was a time when she never would have considered leaving her hometown. She knew everyone, and everyone knew her. Life was uncomplicated.

Until it wasn’t.

Secrets had a way of ruining everything.

“So not the time to be thinking about this,” she murmured, forcing herself to stand up and grab another glass of juice.

One of the reasons Sophie had hopped in her car and driven a thousand-plus miles for a change of scenery was to help her forget. The other was to start over—as someone nobody knew, and people could choose to either love her or hate her for herself, not because of her family history.

So far, it had been working.

Sometimes, however, her mind was her own worst enemy.

“Not now and not today,” she stated firmly, drinking her juice and walking determinedly toward the bathroom. “I have to kick butt on this interview, so only happy thoughts!” With that, she turned on her shower and then immediately reached over and turned on her iPod, cranking up some of her most motivating music.

Under the spray, she sang—badly—at the top of her lungs while she washed her hair. One song led to another and by the time she shut the water off, she’d gone through at least a half dozen of them. Clearing her throat, she realized she may have been a little overzealous in her singing.

“Not smart, Soph. Definitely not smart.”

Opting to listen to the rest of the playlist, she went about carefully applying her makeup before starting the lengthy process of drying her hair. How many times had she considered cutting her long tresses, only to back out at the last minute? It was a love-hate relationship, basically—she loved how it looked when it was styled and behaving but hated it every time she had to dry and style it.

Studying her reflection as she combed through the wet tangles, she said, “Clearly, I have issues.”

Issues or not, she finished getting herself ready—hair, makeup, and a kick-ass outfit with a jade-green pencil skirt that matched her eyes and a white blouse. It was simple but crisp and professional, and when she walked out her front door a little later, she felt like she could take on the world!