“Hey,” he said with a grin. “What are you doing out here? It’s pretty crazy today.”

My heart stuttered. “That’s what I was going to ask you. Who tries to surf in this?”

He shrugged good-naturedly. “Someone who knows what he’s doing.”

“Or someone with a death wish. You could have died out there!” I couldn’t believe the words coming out of my mouth, or the shrewish tone they were delivered in. What was wrong with me?

“I started out before it got this bad. I wasn’t expecting it.” He shivered and it registered for the first time that he wasn’t wearing a wet suit.

“I’m sorry. You must be freezing.” I stepped back to let him pass, but he didn’t move, just stared at me with those intense eyes that made me both fluttery and strangely relaxed at the same time.

“I’m cool.”

“Don’t you want to get out of the rain?”

“I like water. Don’t you?”

My stomach somersaulted, though I didn’t know if it was because of the knowing way he’d asked the question or because part of me wondered how his lips would feel against mine. I think it was probably a combination of both.

Mark, I reminded myself, as I took one giant mental step back. Despite our earlier fight, I was pretty sure he wouldn’t appreciate me ogling some other surfer. Especially one who looked like this.

The relaxed feeling left as easily as it had come.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Why did people keep asking me that? Did I really look so bad?

His voice was gravel and salt water and warm, sweet syrup combined when he said, “Your lips are blue and you’re soaked to the skin. But other than that, you look great.”

He’d answered my question so casually that it took me a minute to realize I hadn’t actually said it aloud. I did freak out then, stumbling away from him like he’d suddenly grown six-inch fangs.

“I need to go.”

“Okay.” He glanced toward the road. “Is that your car up there?”

“Yes.” I slipped my hand into my pocket, prepared to dial 911 for entirely different reasons this time.

“I’ll walk you up—the rocks around here get pretty slippery in the rain.”

I should have protested. I mean, I didn’t know this guy at all—and no matter what he said, he wasn’t from around here. He could be a crazed serial killer who picked his victims from isolated beaches. But the second he touched my elbow, a strange warmth spread through me and I found myself walking with him despite the voice in my head screaming no, no, no!

He helped me up the slope I had stumbled down earlier, his support making the ascent much easier than it should have been. I glanced at him from beneath my lashes, then stared, transfixed, at the way his muscles bunched and flexed as he moved.

What was wrong with me, I wondered again. It wasn’t like I’d never seen a muscled-out guy before. I mean, Mark was pretty well built—as were Logan and Bach and the others. They all had six-packs and rock-solid biceps, so what was so special about this guy?

Why was he having such an odd effect on me?

When we got to the top, he pulled his hand away from my arm, and the comfortable warmth immediately dissipated, leaving me cold.

Lost.

And strangely uncertain.

Despite the riot of feelings rocketing through me, I made no move for the safety of my car. I just stood there, watching him watch me and wondering what was supposed to happen next.

“It was nice meeting you …” His voice trailed off questioningly.

“Tempest. My name is Tempest.”

“And I’m Kona.”

Kona. I turned the word over in my head. “You’re Hawaiian?”

“Something like that,” he said with a smile.

“Samoan?” My dad had taken us on a tour of the Pacific Islands during last year’s summer vacation. I had loved every part of it, especially the crystal-clear water and glassy waves.

“I’m a little bit of everything—I don’t really try to label it.”

I flushed. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you. I went to a bunch of the islands last year and really loved them. The people were fabulous.”

“I wasn’t insulted.” He reached for my hand this time, stroked the inside of my wrist with his thumb. Normally I would have taken a swing at any guy besides Mark who’d touched me like that, but there was something compelling about Kona, something that made his touch feel safe instead of threatening. “Which one was your favorite?”

The feel of his skin sliding against mine had my breath catching in my throat. I tried to answer the question, but the string of words that had come out of his mouth made no sense to my oversexed brain. “What?”

“The islands? Which one did you like?”

“All of them.” I told myself to pull my hand away, but once again my body and my mind weren’t on the same wavelength. Only this time, the lack of communication didn’t seem so bad. “Each one had something different. But I guess I liked Fiji the best. Tahiti and Bora Bora were so crowded.”

“Wow, you really made the rounds.”

“My dad was a professional surfer for years. Every summer we go someplace we can catch good waves.” Someplace where we might spot my mother, but I didn’t tell Kona that part. My dad’s little obsession was no one else’s business.

“That’s cool. You’re pretty lucky.”

His words snapped me out of whatever weird trance I’d been in since I’d first seen him—with my loss of humanity looming over me like Godzilla over Tokyo, I felt anything but lucky.

I pulled out my cell phone, pretended like I cared about the time. “I’ve gotta go.”

“What’s the matter? You turn into a pumpkin at twelve twenty-five?”

“How’d you know what time it was?” I looked him over—the only thing he was wearing was a pair of red and white board shorts, no watch or cell phone in sight.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“You didn’t answer mine.”

“It’s a gift.”

“What is? The time thing or the dodging questions?”

“Both.” Kona smirked a little.

I couldn’t decide whether he was laughing at me or not. My spine stiffened at the thought and I pulled away, digging my keys out of my back pocket where I’d shoved them. “Anyway, thanks for the help up. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”

His amusement grew more pronounced at my obvious brush-off. “I think you can count on seeing me again, Tempest.”

His words had me flushed all over again, but for different reasons this time. Which was completely ridiculous. I cared about Mark. I wasn’t looking for something—or somebody—new.

Still, when Kona turned away and started walking down the road in the opposite direction, I called after him. “Hey!”

He turned, one eyebrow raised inquisitively.

“Where’s your car?”

“I like to walk.”

“It’s raining.” God, I sounded so lame. But it sounded worse to say what I was really thinking, that some reckless driver like myself could come barreling around one of the curves at any minute and wipe him out.