The Sea-Doo towed Zach beyond the point break, and adrenaline surged through his body.

“Godspeed,” Joe, the driver, called just before Zach released the ski rope.

A moment later, Keith yelled, “Action,” through a bullhorn from the deck of a powerboat trolling just outside the surf’s breaking zone.

The waves were monstrous, which would have been a blast if Zach could actually surf them. But today wasn’t about surfing. Today was about getting thrashed.

He slid into the rhythm of the wave and the way its force swelled beneath him. Zach had been surfing since he was five, had ridden a million waves, but he was still humbled every time he fused with this force of Mother Nature.

The crest grew and expanded and threatened until a massive wall of water towered twenty feet above Zach’s head. A soothing silence—the calm before the storm—settled around him, the only sounds a splatter here, a kerplunk there and the slice of his board across the water. Zach fell into the Zen of it. That powerful sensation of being one with the sea. Of being embraced by the colossal power of Mother Nature. There was nothing like it.

He heard the rustle of the first curl as the energy of the wave ebbed and the wall of water curved at the very top, pulling the rest of the wave that direction. In seconds, Zach was cocooned in a tube of pristine, electric turquoise, and the crash of the wave filled his head until he could hear nothing else.

Crouching to keep his body from interfering with the wave, he gripped the side of his board with one hand to keep it under his feet and lifted his other arm to skim the wave’s wall for balance. To Zach, it felt like an affectionate caress. A way for him to express his love, his passion, his reverence—something no one but an avid surfer would understand.

The euphoria of the ride spilled through him, the equivalent of ten times the runner’s high. This was the very best sensation on the planet, and one that tugged him back to the ocean like a perpetual rip current, day after day after day.

Just as he reached the sweet spot of his ride, Zach did the unthinkable. Taking a deep breath to fill his lungs, he murmured, “I’m sorry,” apologizing to the sea for breaking this perfect fusion, and purposefully pushed too hard on one edge of the board.

The fiberglass caught and instantly flung both Zach and the board into the curl of the wave at forty miles per hour. Up, up, over, slam. The monster hammered him into the surf, forcing a hot spear of pain through his bad shoulder and a grunt from his lungs. Zach kept his mouth clamped tight, holding on to his air. He’d need it for the frenzy that followed.

He tumbled, tumbled, tumbled, a leaf in a hurricane. Zach did his best to relax into the roll to avoid wasting his energy. The pain subsided, and his thoughts crisscrossed the way they always did when he wiped out. Why the hell was he doing this? Was this really how he should be spending his life? Wasn’t there something more purposeful he should be pursuing beyond sun, surf, sand, and sex?

They were his father’s words, not his own. Yet whenever he wiped out or got a glimpse of the Grim Reaper—which happened more often than he’d like in this profession—Zach always questioned his choices.

Just when his lungs started to burn, the spin slowed. As usual, he had no idea which way was up, so he grabbed for his ankle, found the tether of his board, and climbed it as fast as his body would take him. Within seconds, the water’s deep turquoise thinned to light blue, then white, and the choppy surface drifted into sight. Zach relaxed a little and let momentum lift him to the surface. By the time his head broke through the waves, his shoulder burned as badly as his lungs.

He shook the water out of his face and took a deep breath while immediately assessing the waves. And found another beast bearing down on him. Zach flung an arm over his board and duck-dived beneath the surface, saving himself from the brunt of the impact as he swam underwater until the turbulence passed.

When he popped to the surface again, he was between waves and Joe waited nearby on the Sea-Doo. He swam to the Jet Ski, relieved to realize the pain in his shoulder had subsided—for the most part.

“Wicked wipeout.” Joe offered his hand, and Zach used his good arm to leverage himself onto the machine.

“Thanks…I think.” Laughing at himself, Zach hiked the board under his arm.

On the way to shore, Zach rolled his shoulder a few times. A familiar crunch touched his ear, and his anxiety amped. Since Ian had gone on national television and told the world he was taking a movie deal, there had been hints and murmurs about Zach being considered for his replacement, but nothing solid. The crunch in his shoulder joint made Zach hope something materialized soon.

He jumped off in knee-deep water and made his way up the sand toward the gaggle of crew clustered around Shawn and his camera playback screen. The group included Jax Chamberlin, the owner of Renegades Stunt Company. He and his girl, Lexi, had flown in that morning for a quick vacation. Zach’s agent, Marshall Kingston, was also looking over the playback. Just beyond the group, Lexi was chatting with Tucker, Josh, and Grace.

The boat carrying Keith and the film crew neared the shore.

“Zach,” Keith called. “Hold up.”

He stopped to wait for the director, muttering, “Shit” under his breath and rolling his shoulder one more time. This was one of those rare moments he might have to tell them he couldn’t take “just one more run” for the cameras. Shitty timing to look like a slacker.

“Fan-fucking-tastic, Zach,” Keith said, jumping from the boat. “Wait until you see that on film.” He drew near, slapped Zach on the shoulder, then continued up the beach with him. “I’m telling you, fan-fucking-tastic.”

Halle-fucking-lujah. “Great. I’m glad.”

“Hey,” he said, his voice falling a notch. “I’m sure you’ve heard there’s a little buzz going on about Ian and his part. If he didn’t leave at the end of the season, we were going to kick him to the curb. Your name has been floating around the cogs for months as his replacement. I’m pullin’ for you, kid. I really want to see you in his spot. The fans would eat you up.”

A whole new kind of buzz lightened Zach’s mood. “Thanks, Keith, I appreciate that.”

“You’ve earned it, kid. You work your ass off out there. Don’t think we don’t notice. You may need to do some training during the off-season if they want you. You know, a cop school to teach you how to hold a weapon, how to breach buildings, other protocols, that sort of thing. How do you feel about that?”

“Sounds fun. Where? Here?”

“No. LA.”

Even better. “Not a problem.”

When they neared the others, Keith smiled and gave Zach’s shoulder another slap. “Good to hear. You get some rest tonight.”

“Yes, sir.”

Zach stood back from the crowd a few yards as Keith passed the others on his way up the beach, calling, “Don’t break your eyeballs. We got everything we could ever need from the boat. Wrap for the day.”

Jax offered Zach a grin and a thumbs-up.

He continued toward the crew, and Lexi met him halfway, offering a hug.

“I’m all wet, Lex.”

“I don’t care. Come here.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed tight. When she let go, she grinned at him with an excited spark in her clear blue eyes. “I think you’ve got great news coming your way.”

Taking the part meant that Zach wouldn’t be working stunts for Renegades anymore. It also meant he’d be running all the surfing stunts in the series, which would take business away from Renegades. Yet the entire company couldn’t have been pushing any harder for him. These were real friends, and he felt blessed whenever he spent time with them.

“I hope you’re right.”

“Dude,” Marshall said, extending his hand. “Killer moves.”

“Hey, Marshall.” They shook.

“We’ve got to put our heads together.”

Zach nodded. He hoped Marshall had some inside scoop from the studio.

“You took a thrashing out there, bud,” Tucker told him.

“Learned from the best.” That made Tucker laugh, because he and Zach had learned from each other.

Zach dropped his board on the sand. He accepted a bottle of water from one of the production assistants and downed half.

Jax turned toward him and shook his hand. “Just a few more days, and this season will be a wrap.”

“Yep.” Which also meant Zach’s main revenue stream would dry up. He sure hoped this part panned out. Otherwise, he’d be pimping himself out for side jobs between competitions again. The thought made him roll his shoulder. As soon as Jax’s gaze slid that direction, Zach cursed himself.

“Josh is worried about that,” Jax said.

“Josh worries about everything,” Marshall said, coming to Zach’s defense.

“True that,” Lexi said.

“In fact,” Zach said, “you pay him to worry. So it wouldn’t be right if he wasn’t worried, now would it?”

Lexi slid up beside Jax and wrapped her arm around his waist. “He has a point.”

Jax just as easily and naturally wrapped his arm around Lexi’s shoulders, grinning down at her. Something stirred inside Zach. A craving he didn’t understand. Equally puzzling, Tessa came to mind. He hadn’t spoken with her since she’d slipped out of his room the morning before last to sneak back to her condo before her daughter woke, but he had to admit, she rarely left his thoughts. And now he had the strangest longing for something a lot like what Jax and Lexi had. Comfort, companionship, friendship…love?

Fuckin’ A, he must have hit his head underwater. He didn’t know the first thing about love. He sure as shit didn’t know anything about kids. And she lived in fucking DC.

“Zach?”

“Huh? What?”

“We’re still meeting at Lahaina for dinner?”

“Oh, right. Sure.”

Jax grinned and nodded. “See you there.”

While Jax and Lexi started for the parking lot, Zach turned, searching for a towel. He found one of the crew members standing ready with fluffy white terry. He usually had to find his own. Only Ian had crew members fawning over him.

Zach took the towel with a chuckle. “I could get used to this.”

“You might have to.” Marshall wandered to his side and lowered his voice. “This is real, Zach. The studio execs want to sit down once they shore things up with the bean counters. This is your first step toward the Hollywood Walk of Fame.”

Zach laughed. “We’re a hell of a long way from that.”

Excitement bubbled beneath the surface, but he’d learned too often over the years that getting excited about something before it happened was as good as willing your defeat. His best breaks came when he planned, trained, visualized, worked hard, stayed positive, and trusted in the universe.

“Closer than you think,” Marshall insisted. “Your hard work with the stunts this season has paid off. Being a member of the Surfers’ Hall of Fame isn’t hurting your credibility either.”

“Now that,” he admitted with a chuckle, “that was seriously cool.” He tossed the towel over his shoulder. “I’m going to stop by the hotel to clean up before dinner. I’ll see you at the restaurant.”

They bumped fists. When Marshall walked up the beach toward his car, another crew member brought Zach his phone, telling him, “It’s been ringing.”

His mind immediately veered to Tessa again. She’d sounded pretty set on leaving two days ago, but Zach kept hoping for a call anyway.

“Thanks.” Zach was thinking about picking up some Advil on his way back to the hotel while he squinted at the screen. Two missed calls from a number he didn’t know, an area code two-zero-two. Wherever that was.

He tapped into his waiting text message. The first line read: Hey there, it’s Tessa.

His heart took an extra hard beat. Zach stepped into the shade of the canopy to read the rest.

We’ve decided to stay another few days. I’d like to see you when you’re free.

Adrenaline spurted into his bloodstream. Zach dropped his head back, closed his eyes, and pumped his fist. “Yes.”

He texted back immediately. I’ll make myself available at your request.

He didn’t give a shit how pathetic he looked. He had a very small window of time to enjoy this unique creature, and he knew it.

She returned a smiley emoji and How about dinner?

“Ah, crap.” Figured she’d ask when he had plans. He sighed and weighed his options. Jax and Lexi would be here for a few days. His talk with Marshall could wait. It wasn’t like the studio had made an offer. But he couldn’t get together with the vixen attorney just anytime.

So he texted back Name the time and place. I only need thirty minutes—I’m still on the beach, but headed back to the hotel.

While Zach waited for her response, he texted Jax and told him he was bailing on dinner. Then he texted Marshall and told him they could talk business over breakfast or lunch tomorrow.

Ka’ana or Fleetwood’s? Tessa texted. I’ll make reservations.

“I like this bold new version of you, baby,” he murmured, already wondering how their second night together would be. Judging by how amazing their first night had been, his bet was their second would be a fucking blockbuster.

But he hesitated with his reply. If she didn’t have a kid, he would have insisted on walking over to get her at the condo before they headed out. That would give them prime warm-up time in the cab on the drive to the restaurant. He was anxious to get his lips back on hers. Would kill to get her into another shower with him. But he wasn’t particularly interested in meeting a three-year-old.

Still, he texted: Two of my favorite places. You choose. Should I come over and pick you up?

I’m already out. I’ll meet you at Ka’ana.

He smiled, texted: Perfect, grabbed his gear, and jogged toward the parking lot.

Zach was ready in record time and when he reached Ka’ana, his stomach rolled with hunger. The rest of his body also sported a deep craving—but that was for Tessa.

He pushed through the door to the lobby of the restaurant and found the typical crowd waiting for a table—a hip, young group of millennials in everything from tight skirts and kitten heels to bikini tops and sarongs. Zach searched the space for Tessa, hoping she was as pretty as he remembered. He’d had a number of beers by the time he’d met her at the bar, and their night had been largely spent in nothing but moonlight. But after thinking about it for another millisecond, he knew he didn’t care.

He wandered through the waiting area and around the bar. When he didn’t see anyone immediately recognizable, Zach returned to the lobby and pulled out his phone to text her.

“Zach.”

A female voice brought his head up. A young woman walked toward him from the dimly lit bar. He returned his gaze to his phone and started tapping out the text, hoping to brush her off. If he got this role for Hawaiian Heat, he’d have to get better with hats and sunglasses.

Instead of hanging back, she came right up to him and placed a hand on his arm. “Zach.”

He looked up again with Sorry, I’m meeting someone on his tongue. But found himself looking into Tessa’s blue eyes. “Oh, hey. I was just—”

Her hair was down, and her stiff suit was gone, replaced by a loose, semi-sheer tank top printed in a pale abstract floral. The fabric fell like liquid over her breasts, and a familiar craving rolled through his gut. Her jeans were worn denim capris that stopped midcalf, and she wore honest-to-God Teva flip-flops on her feet.

Island girl, was his first thought, and excitement fluttered under his ribs.

“You look amazing.” She was gorgeous. Natural, sun-kissed, easy-on-the-eyes gorgeous.

He didn’t wait to read signals or give her room to make the first move. As far as he was concerned, she’d made it by contacting him. He slipped his arms around her and eased her into a little alcove carved out by the entrance to the bathrooms. She immediately felt perfect in his arms. Her body felt just as amazing as it had that first night. Unable to wait a minute longer, he lowered his mouth to hers.

But she didn’t respond like he expected. Instead of melting, she tensed. Instead of sliding her arms around his neck, she gripped his forearms. Zach broke the kiss, angled his head, and approached her again with more passion.

“Zach—”

He caught her open mouth under his and exploited it with his tongue, just a slow glide along the inside of her lower lip to warm things up. A sound ebbed from her throat, and her body softened a little. Now they were getting somewhere. Zach eased her against the wall and sank into the kiss. And when she sighed into his mouth, when her hands loosened on his arms, he let his body lean into hers. That was when she finally kissed him back. Her lashes fluttered closed, her head tilted, and her hands combed into his hair.

In the time it took to strike a match, all their heat from that first night returned in one fiery explosion. She met his tongue with her own, sucked at his lips, and arched her body into his. Zach doubled his arms around her, letting himself get lost in her taste, her heat, her musky wildflower scent. His cock rubbed against his jeans as Tessa rubbed against him.

Fuck dinner. He wanted her somewhere they could get horizontal. Yesterday.

He lifted his mouth from hers, just enough to murmur, “Let’s skip dinner.” He kissed her again. “You can be my appetizer, my entrée, and my dessert. I’m starving.”

When he met her lips again, she moaned and pulled back. “I’m sorry.” She licked her lips and unhooked her arms from his neck. When she looked up again, her discomfort showed in her expression. “I really need to talk to you for a few.”

Zach laughed at himself. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Okay. Sorry, I got carried away.” He kept his arm around her and glanced toward the waiting area. “Did you get reservations?”

“It’s a long wait. Want to sit in the bar?”

“Sure.” The darker and more private, the better.

She stepped away, but Zach didn’t release the hand at her waist and pulled her in beside him for the short walk. When she slid onto the seat of a booth, Zach moved in beside her. There was already a half-empty glass of red wine and a manila envelope sitting under her purse on the table.

He turned toward her, laid an arm along the back of the small booth, and stroked a hand over her hair. She smiled, but she seemed…distracted was the only way he could describe it. Maybe a little distant. He could appreciate that. They were strangers in pretty much every way but the most intimate, and she wasn’t someone who picked up guys regularly.

“I’m so glad you called,” he said.

“Thanks for seeing me.”

That felt like an odd thing to say, but she was definitely unique. “I’ve been thinking about you. How long will you be in town?”

“Actually, I’m not sure.”

Something was off. This felt too…formal. “Why’d you stay?”

She lifted her gaze and met his eyes directly. “Because we need to talk.”

His plans for the night hit a wall. “We need to talk” was never a good phrase coming from a woman’s mouth, but he tried to act like they didn’t chase a cold streak down his spine. “That sounds…ominous.”

She licked her lips again and tucked one side of her hair behind her ear. “You want a drink? A beer, maybe? Something stronger?”

A knot formed at the pit of his stomach. “I’d like you to tell me why I’m here, because it doesn’t feel like we’re on the same page right now.”

Her eyes lowered to his shirt. She licked her lips again. Exhaled.

Now he was nervous. And frustrated. “Tessa.”

“I’m trying to find a way to say this without—”

“Don’t. Just say it.”

She took a breath. “When I met you the other night, I told you I was looking for your, you know, your double, your twin, your costar—”

“Yeah, Ian.”

“That’s where the problem begins.”

“What problem?”

She took a deep breath. “I was there looking for you, and you thought I was looking for Ian.”

Zach’s brain hitched. His defenses went up.

“It was an honest mistake, really,” she said. “The women watching from the sidelines said you’d probably be at the club. Since I couldn’t find another way to connect with you, I took the chance.”

“Whoa, whoa. Back up.” He leaned away. “Are you telling me you slept with me because you thought I was Ian?”

“No. Yes.” She huffed. “Not…exactly.”

“Not…exactly?” Zach took a sledgehammer to the chest. Pain erupted beneath his ribs. Anger immediately followed. “Are you serious right now?”

“Look, I can understand you’d be a little miffed over the mix-up, but you were the one posing as Ian. You were the one scrawling Ian’s name on their bodies. Your crew member told me Zach had a cut on his forehead. It was totally reasonable for me to think you were Ian, not Zach. Everyone else did.”

“Fuck me.” Zach pressed an elbow to the table and covered his eyes with his hand. This was a real killer. He was stunned at just how disappointed he was. How hurt he was.

“Then I saw Ian on Good Morning Los Angeles the next day,” Tessa said, her voice tainted with frustration. “Imagine my surprise when I realized he wasn’t the man I’d spent the night with.”

He dropped his hand against the table and met her angry gaze with one of his own. “Well, excuse me. Sorry to disappoint you, sugar. You didn’t sleep with a star.”

“Stop. You know that doesn’t matter to me. In fact, I slept with you in spite of believing you were a television star, not because of it.”

“Really.” He narrowed his eyes on her. “Because I remember you agreeing with me on several of Ian’s less-than-complimentary characteristics. Which really meant you thought those belonged to me.”

She sighed, like she was so over this conversation. “Whatever I heard or thought I knew was negated by what I learned while we were together.”

Negated?

“And you’re right. I owe you an apology for forming an opinion of you based on the limited information I had.”

He sat back and shook his head. This was a very different version of the woman he’d been with the other night. And knowing she’d thought she’d slept with Ian made it impossible for him to pull this from the fire. “Whatever. It’s over.”

He slid to the edge of the booth.

Tessa grabbed his arm. “We still need to talk.”

“The hell we do.” He pulled away and stood. His gaze caught on the manila envelope beneath her purse, and his stomach went cold. He glanced around for the exit.

“Zach.” The steel in her tone sent a chill down his spine. “This is important.”

He exhaled in a slow, controlled stream through his teeth. The muscles along his shoulders constricted with tension. He was already annoyed. And yeah, his ego was bruised. Even stranger, his feelings were really hurt. But those were minor when compared to the unease crawling up his spine over that damned manila envelope sitting on the table like a ticking time bomb.

He glanced back at her. “Look, there’s nothing to—”

“Please.” She reached for his hand, and her pretty blue eyes begged him. They were just begging for the wrong thing. “I’ll make it as quick and as painless as possible. You’ll never have to see me again, and you can forget all about this. Please just hear me out.”

Fuck. She’d gotten under his skin. If she hadn’t, Zach would have walked out and never looked back.

He faced the table again, teeth clenched. He was pissed. Pissed because he’d been thinking about her for days when she’d thought she’d fucked Ian. Pissed she hadn’t made this date to see him, she’d made it to get business done. And the only reason he even considered listening to what she had to say was because he didn’t want that damned manila envelope to come back and bite him in the ass. “Five minutes.”

“We have someone in common,” she said. “My best friend and one of your hookups.”

Oh, hell. “Who?”

“Corinne Westerly.”

Corinne Westerly. He rolled the name around in his head a few times. Corinne, Corinne, Corinne. He shook his head. “I don’t recognize the name.”

Her expression turned surly. “Try harder.”

Zach lowered his gaze to the table and ran a hand through his hair. His mind tumbled over the last year, his memory touched on four, maybe six women. Corinne wasn’t exactly an ordinary name. Zach shook his head. “Sorry, I don’t remember a Corinne.”

Her disbelief turned her expression as dark as she’d turned his mood. “Do you sleep with so many women that you don’t remember their names?”

His patience snapped. “I don’t keep a fuckin’ diary, okay? How long ago was it?”

“Four years.”

He huffed a laugh. “Four years? Do you seriously expect me to remember a hookup from four years ago? Do you remember the name of every man you’ve ever slept with?”

“Yes.” She answered immediately, confidently, and with just enough censure to light his temper.

“Then tell me this—how will you be putting me into that memory bank? As Zach or Ian?”

That took an edge off her self-righteousness. “You wouldn’t just know her from sleeping with her once. You also heard from her a year later, at which time you paid her twenty-five thousand dollars to go away. In my opinion, that gives you twenty-five thousand and one reasons to remember her name.”

He laughed, a caustic, ugly laugh. “No. You’ve still got me mixed up with Ian. If I want someone to leave me alone, I tell them to leave me alone. I’d never pay someone to go away—to say nothing of the fact that I don’t have that kind of money to throw around.”

Tessa’s lips compressed in a look of determination. She reached for the envelope, and another chill washed over Zach.

“I don’t know where you got this idea,” he said, “or what stories people are telling you, but you’ve got the wrong—”

She slapped a piece of paper in front of him.

“What’s that?”

“The payment you’re denying.”

Jesus Christ. He sighed, dropped to the edge of the bench across from her and rested his head in his hand as he scanned the image. It was a cashier’s check made out to Corinne Westerly in the amount of twenty-five thousand dollars. He opened his mouth to tell her this didn’t have anything to do with him, when his gaze scanned across the bottom left-hand corner of the check—and all his words dried up. Zach was named as the remitter. And it had come from a bank where Zach had accounts. His gaze darted to the last four digits on the account number: Nine-one-zero-seven. Those corresponded to one of his accounts.

For the first time, the inkling of personal involvement in whatever Tessa was talking about peeked through. But he shook his head, trying to make sense of it. “This is an account I set up for my agent so he could deposit paychecks that came through while I was traveling. He takes his cut and deposits the balance in this account. I’ve never written checks out of it, and I didn’t get this cashier’s check. I don’t even leave more than a hundred bucks in it.”

“Yet this,” she pointed to the memo line, “is a payment.”

It read: Payment in full.

Zach had a sudden, rabid need to get ahold of Marshall. He sure as shit had some explaining to do.

“I did not pull this check from my account.” He shook his head, utterly baffled. “I don’t know what to tell you. What does this have to do with you, anyway?”

Her annoyed, knowing expression had faded. Now she looked suspicious and a little baffled. “Like I said, she was my best friend. We were friends since we were kids.”

He shook his head, shrugged. “And?”

“You really don’t remember, do you?” She huffed a disgusted sound and sat back in the booth, crossing her arms. “Here’s the short, memory-jolting version. You slept with Corinne. Corinne got pregnant. When she reached out to tell you, you didn’t want to have anything to do with her or the baby and offered her money to get lost.”

The word “pregnant” spun Zach like a top, and his body temperature plummeted. “No.” His denial was immediate and adamant. “No, no, no. You’re wrong.” He shoved the copy at her. “I don’t know what you’re trying to pull or what you think you know, but you’re wrong.” His voice rose, and his vehemence doubled. “I don’t tap it unless I wrap it. I didn’t get anyone pregnant.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What…did you just say?”

“I just said you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” He knew he was losing his shit when the people from the neighboring booth looked over. Zach grasped at threads of control. He waved a hand at the photocopy. “I’ll talk to Marshall about this, but whatever it is, it’s not what you’re saying it is.”

Tessa slapped another piece of paper in front of him.

Zach slid out of the booth and swiveled to face her, his hands flat on the table. He looked her in the eye. “I’m not listening to any more of this bull—”

“Your name is on the birth certificate.”

Zach’s tongue caught in his throat. At least it felt that way. He held Tessa’s determined gaze, unable, unwilling to look down at any more evidence he was involved in that whole…that whole…pregnant thing. God, he even hated the word—pregnant. What kind of word was that anyway?

After a moment of thick silence, Tess exhaled heavily. “Look, I don’t want anything from you, okay? In fact, I want to make all this go away.”

Another dose of dread washed through his belly. Zach slowly straightened, prepping for whatever fraudulent scam she was selling. It just figured, didn’t it? The first woman who’d spiked his interest in way too long, and she was a scam artist.

“All I need is your signature on these papers.” She pulled a few more sheets from the envelope and added them to the pile, but Zach didn’t even glance at them. “And I’ll walk away. You’ll never have to hear from me or see me again. This birth certificate becomes null and void. You’re free—no ties, no obligations.”

“This has to be the most convoluted, ridiculous scam I’ve ever heard of. You’re either the lousiest con artist or the most corrupt lawyer on the planet.”

“Watch it.” Her chin dipped, and her eyes flashed. “I know I made a mistake in the beginning by sleeping with you, but I’m doing my best to right that. I’m doing my best to make this as easy as possible on you.”

“Yeah. I’m just one big fucking mistake, aren’t I?” Story of his life. “That’s the perfect cherry on this pile of bullshit.” He waved at the papers. “I’m not signing shit—”

“You will if you don’t want to be held legally responsible for a three-year-old girl.”

An image popped into his head—the darling little face in the picture on her phone. His gut tweaked, but he pushed the fear aside. She could have gotten that image from anywhere.

He looked at the papers. “What is this? No, never mind. I don’t care—”

“It’s a release of your parental rights.”

Zach’s mouth hung open mid-sentence. Icy heat speared his gut. He straightened, dropped his head back, and stared at the ceiling for a couple of heartbeats, caught between shaking this woman until she stopped spewing bullshit and running as fast as he could. He turned in a circle and threaded both hands into his hair. “No, no, no, no, no.”

“It’s best for everyone involved.” Tessa’s voice softened, infused with compassion and edged with urgency, but she remained as grounded as Zach was frantic. “I’m the only constant in her life. I’m her legal guardian. I’ve been with her since before she was born, and I want to adopt her, Zach. I want to make it legal and move on with our lives. I know you’re pissed at me, and I know you don’t want to be a father, but please work this out with me outside of court—for Sophia.”

Outside of court? Another shaft of fear cut through him. He stopped pacing and dropped his hands to his hips. This was a man’s worst nightmare—being as careful as humanly possible while sleeping around, yet getting a chick pregnant.

Sophia. He felt sick. Now this lie had a face. Had a name. And for a reason he didn’t understand yet, he was still fucking standing here.

Zach dropped to a seat across from her again. “Why are you her legal guardian? Where’s this Corinne woman?”

A look passed through Tessa’s eyes. Pain? Sadness? Something. Then she said, “She died.”

This story was going off the rails. “How?”

“Cancer.”

Zach’s breath whooshed out. He propped his elbows on the table and dropped his head into his hands, raking his fingers through his hair, over and over. Then he reached across the table, shoved the last set of papers she’d set down to the side, and pulled the supposed birth certificate toward him.

Corinne’s name was on the line for the mother. And Zach Ellis was on the line for the father.

Good God.

Seeing his name associated with the word father lit a fire in his gut. Sweat broke out on his forehead, and he rubbed his face with both hands, holding denial like a lifeline. “Do you realize how many Zach Ellises there must be in the world?”

“Believe me, I know exactly how many. Research is a significant part of my daily life.”

He dropped his hands, and they slapped against the table. “This from the woman who slept with me thinking I was someone else?”

“Stop it,” she ordered with motherly annoyance. “I know this is stressful, but I also know you’re not a bad guy. You’re not Ian, so stop acting like him.”

Fucking A. As if he couldn’t feel any worse right now. “My legal name is Zachary, not Zach.”

“I doubt a woman who slept with you once would know that. And after exhaustive research, I know there is only one Zach Ellis in the Surfers’ Hall of Fame. Corinne met you at the party celebrating your induction.”

“You could have learned that on the internet. The party was for the three of us who were inducted that year and the bar where the party was held was wall-to-wall people.”

Tessa rested her elbow on the table and pressed her fingers to her temple. “How many of them did you sleep with that night?”

Zach’s mind shuffled backward four years. Yes, he’d gone back to his hotel with someone, but he’d also been pretty damn plastered by congratulatory drinks. “Look, it was a long time ago, and I wasn’t exactly stone sober.”

“Would you remember a unique tattoo?” She pulled her phone from the side pocket of her purse and started tapping the face.

Zach pushed to his feet again. “Even if I did remember sleeping with your friend, that doesn’t mean I’m her kid’s—”

She turned the phone to him, showing Zach the profile of a woman’s naked body, shoulder to hips, with an ornate floral-design tattoo starting just below her armpit and extending to her hip. A space had been left blank in the center for the quote that filled the length.

Zach’s gut clenched. He squeezed his eyes closed and hung his head. “Fuck.”

“You remember her now?”

He did. A very distant, disjointed memory. He sure as hell wasn’t ready to admit to fathering her child. Not by a long shot.

He lifted his head and met her eyes directly. “That doesn’t mean I got her pregnant.”

Anger flashed in Tessa’s eyes. “Then why did you pay her twenty-five grand?”

Zach clenched his teeth. “I. Didn’t.”

Tessa tapped the image of the check. “This proves different.”

“Did you ever stop to think that she took the money and ran because I wasn’t the real father?”

“No, that never crossed my mind, because I was with her when she got the check. I consoled her when she broke down in tears. What woman would want to turn the child she loves over to a man who cared so little, he tried to pay her off?”

“That wasn’t me.”

“Hey, guys,” a man from the next booth said. “Take it outside, would you?”

Tessa didn’t so much as look his way. She lifted her hands toward the evidence. “It’s all here. I didn’t use my only vacation for the year and spend thousands of dollars to chase the wrong man for nothing but a signature.”

He was done arguing. And he needed air before he suffocated.

Zach leaned in and swiped a hand across the table, collecting all the papers at once. Straightening, he rolled the documents in his palm. “We’ll see about that.”