Waves of Desire: Pleasure Point Series Book Three

  Waves of Desire

  Pleasure Point Series Book Three

  Jennifer Evans

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  Reader Advisory: This book has deeply sensual, steamy love scenes described in graphic detail and is recommended for readers aged 18 or older.

  To Grant “Twiggy” Baker, the world’s gnarliest big wave surfer.

  Table of Contents

  Rosalyn

  Jax

  Eugene

  Jax

  Holly

  Jax

  Rosalyn

  Jax

  Rosalyn

  Jax

  Holly

  Jax

  Eugene

  Jax

  Rosalyn

  Eugene

  Jax

  Rosalyn

  Eugene

  Holly

  Jax

  Holly

  Rosalyn

  Jax

  Rosalyn

  Jax

  Rosalyn

  Jax

  Rosalyn

  Jax

  Rosalyn

  Jax

  Rosalyn

  Jax

  Eugene

  Jax

  THANKS FROM JENNIFER

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  “Wiping out is an underappreciated skill.”

  —Laird Hamilton

  Santa Cruz, California

  2015

  Rosalyn

  Carissa’s hand touched mine, her eyebrows knit in concern. “You’re sure you want to involve Jax?”

  I leaned back in my chair and took a sip of poppy seed tea. “It’s not like I have much of a choice. He’s Eugene’s father.” Leo jumped onto my lap with a muffled prrrp and began purring. I smiled and stroked his soft fur.

  Carissa stood up and walked to the fridge. She opened the door and stared at the contents. “I’m not saying it’s the worst idea you’ve ever had.” She refilled her iced kombucha then returned to the kitchen table and looked at me with concerned eyes. “I know you’ve been through hell, and I’m not trying to make you feel bad, but you and I both know some of the choices you’ve made have been—”

  I smacked my cup down on the table harder than I meant to. “Don’t you think I know that?” I put my face in my hands. “I should’ve never left Jax. I should’ve taken your advice.”

  Carissa tentatively placed one hand on my back. “I’m sorry for saying that.” She exhaled audibly. “You did what you thought was right. And things have turned out pretty good. You and I both know there are things in life that can’t be controlled.”

  Dear, sweet Jax. Not a day went by that I didn’t think about him. I was ashamed of the way I had left him, but I’d convinced myself it was for the best. Even thirteen years later, I missed him. I missed his caring and his protectiveness and his sense of humor and the fact that I could be myself around him, and yes, I missed the sex. I took a long sip of my tea, the relaxing effect flowing into my bones. My head bowed, I made eye contact with Carissa. “You think he’ll be receptive?”

  She brushed her red hair out of her face and smiled. “You said he’s a good guy, right? You’ll have to be careful how you talk to him though.” She rubbed her jaw. “I’ve never met the man, so I can’t really say. I mean, a lot of years have passed.”

  I had a completely new life. After graduation I’d gotten hired by the All Hands On Deck physical therapy clinic, and I applied myself to the job and taking care of my body, which was quickly becoming swollen with pregnancy. I ate only vegetarian foods, I juiced, I practiced yoga, and I even gave up pot smoking for the time I was pregnant. I meditated and surrounded the baby with a white protective light, and when I felt the baby move for the first time, I started to forget about the pain of everything that’d happened. I actually had a baby living inside me. Every night I would lie in bed, stroking my tummy and talking to the baby. I became involved with the local yoga community and found a midwife that would deliver the baby at home. I pored over books about natural childbirth, and I went to classes to learn to manage the pain of labor without drugs.

  I changed my name. I was terrified that Jax would get some crazy idea about finding me, so I had come up with a new last name that I used at work and in social circles, but never had it legally changed.

  I stood up and ambled to the window, my chest tight, my breathing shallow. I moved aimlessly through the kitchen, stopping here and there as I thought. Carissa eyed me, her head cocked. “Are you going to get something out of the fridge?” She patted the chair. “Come sit down.”

  I looked at my friend then down at my feet and shuffled back to the kitchen table where I dropped into a chair. My shoulders slumped. “Jax is going to hate me.”

  Carissa leaned forward and placed a hand on my knee. “I know this is far from the perfect scenario. But, it’s going to work out,” she said soothingly. My hand flew to my mouth to hold back a sob.

  I bit down on my lower lip and took another sip of tea with trembling hands. “He’s what? Thirty-one? And he’s never been married or had children as far as I know. How’s he going to feel about a kid?” Nausea washed over me for the millionth time that day. “I don’t know if I can go through with this.” My heartbeat sped up. I clutched Carissa’s arm. “How will Eugene react? He’ll hate me too.”

  Carissa gave me a wan smile. “You just take it one step at a time. Stop thinking about what might go wrong. Come on, where’s that positive Rosalyn I know?” She touched my cheek. “Let’s see that smile.”

  I met her gaze, a small smile playing upon my lips. “You’re right. I’ve got to keep a good attitude.”

  Carissa sat up straight. “Let’s do it.” She reached for my laptop and opened it. I smiled every time I saw the screensaver, a photo of Eugene and me, our smiling faces beaming at the camera.

  As Carissa opened the browser, sweat broke out on my brow. I reached for my bong. “Maybe we need a little sacred herb.”

  Carissa smiled. “If you smoke that stuff every time you spy on Jax, you’re going to need to supercharge your medical marijuana license.”

  I lit the bong and passed it to Carissa.

  I had kept track of Jax through Facebook, but I had to put him on my blocked list so that he wouldn’t somehow accidentally find me. I watched all the YouTube videos of him surfing and the various interviews of his participation in the Big Wave World Tour. I was so proud of the man he had become.

  The marijuana oozed into my bloodstream and mixed with the poppy seed tea. The feeling was one of such euphoria that I felt renewed hopefulness. “Move over,” I said. I scooted my chair close to Carissa, my fingers on the keyboard. Without meaning to, as though they had a life of their own, my fingers typed “Tyler Priest.”

  Carissa looked at me with wide eyes. “Oh honey, don’t do this to yourself again.”

  Not only had I become obsessed with tracking Jax, I had kept track of Tyler as well. But I never contacted him for fear of him telling Jax where I was. I was especially ashamed to think of the fact that I hadn’t reached out to Tyler at some point because now it was too late. When I discovered a little over a year ago, along with the rest of the world, that he was murdered, I sank into a deep depression for months. The first week after it happened, the shock was so acute, I couldn’t even get out of bed. I told Eugene that I had a bad case of the flu, and he brought me tissues, wiped my runny nose and opened cans of chicken soup for me. I really did almost call Jax when Tyler was ki
lled. But by then, I had already gotten my diagnosis, and there was no way I was going to put Jax through even more pain.

  I was overjoyed with what Tyler had accomplished. His band had climbed the iTunes charts and was quickly becoming number one in the rock category. They had a sound that was a cross between Nirvana and Pearl Jam and had been busy touring all over the world.

  Tyler.

  I was reminded of Tyler every day because my son looked so much like him. I’d given birth to Eugene in our living room. After twelve hours of labor with the ceremonial candles burning and the sacred myrrh incense, I gave my final push, and the midwife placed Eugene onto my tummy. He looked up at me with those questioning eyes, and the first thing I’d thought of was Tyler. Even from that first minute, there was no mistaking the similarity in the face and the eyes.

  I bit my lip. “You’re right.” I deleted the name, and typed “Jax Priest.” Carissa and I leaned into the computer. “Here it is.” I clicked on the link that listed a recent interview by Surfer magazine in which Jax discussed his place of employment: The Mysto Spot Surf Shop. There was a photo of Jax and the owner of the store, standing arm in arm in front of the shop. With trembling fingers, I found the store’s website and stared at the phone number.

  Carissa held my hand. “You’re doing the right thing.”

  My eyes filled with tears. “Are you sure? What if—”

  Her emerald eyes stared into mine. “Honey, it’s all going to work out.”

  My fingers drummed on the table. I took a long gulp of tea. “Can’t I sleep on it and call him tomorrow?”

  She eyed me with amusement. “Don’t want me listening in?”

  I bit my lip. “I just need to think of what to say.”

  “I’ll be home tonight.” She gazed heavenward. “God knows the restaurant can’t survive without me.” Not often enough, but over the years, Carissa visited from Santa Fe where she lived with her boyfriend. She had moved up the ranks in the hospitality business. Ah, the glamour of a starving artist. Carissa was now manager of the Mexican restaurant where we’d worked together. She squeezed my hand. “Call him. Then call me the second after you hang up. Okay? Think of Eugene. He deserves the truth.”

  My heart thudded in my chest when I heard the clatter of footsteps on the porch steps. The screen door slammed, and Eugene and his best friend Nelson slouched into the living room, throwing their backpacks and Nelson’s guitar case on the sofa. I quickly snapped my laptop shut, sitting up straight. “Hi, honey!” I trilled. “Say hi to Carissa. She’ll only be here a few more hours.”

  Eugene peeked up from behind dark hair and gave a small wave. “Hey.”

  Nelson bounded into the kitchen. “What’s for dinner? You guys mind if I stay?”

  Nelson was such a fireball. He didn’t mean to be rude, but the way he practically lived at our house made me feel like I raised two adolescents instead of one. “Nelson, honey, I think Eugene needs to concentrate on his homework and—”

  Eugene said, “But if I get all my stuff done, then can he stay?”

  “Come here, sweetie,” I said. Eugene stood a few inches away, and I drew him into me. I reached up to stroke his hair. “I suppose if you get your homework done he can stay. I missed you today.” The thought of not being in Eugene’s life caused my voice to sound choked.

  He smiled and pulled away, heading the few steps to the pantry. “Mom, you’re embarrassing me.”

  “You’re never too old to be embarrassed by your mom,” I said. Eugene opened the pantry door, stood motionless while studying the contents then closed the door.

  Carissa said, “One of these days I’ll have kids, and you can be sure my mission will be to embarrass them every chance I get.”

  Nelson said, “When you have kids, they will be good looking and famous.”

  Carissa smiled. “You think so?”

  Nelson bowed in front of Carissa. “If they look anything like you, they will.” He smiled, a charming smile that was sure to woo the ladies in years to come. “Now, may I get you two anything to drink?”

  We declined, and Eugene tugged at Nelson’s sleeve. “Let’s go practice.”

  “I’ll grab my guitar,” Nelson said. Then he followed Eugene to his room and, glancing over his shoulder said, “It was lovely seeing you again, Carissa.”

  The door closed, and next thing we heard was their guitars screaming to life.

  I toyed with a paper napkin, folding and refolding it, then looked at Carissa. “Eugene’s such a great kid. Jax will love him, right?”

  Carissa stroked my hair. “Of course he will.”

  Eugene had become my reason for living. And now I had to break the news to him and to his father.

  I had six months to live.

  Jax

  Thirteen years had passed since I’d heard Rosalyn’s voice.

  Panic raged through my system. I’d been about to turn my key in the ignition so I could hightail it to Palo Alto and meet Butch and the paramedics. But her voice stopped me cold. I sat in my truck in the parking lot of Mavericks and gripped the phone. “Rosalyn?”

  Her words tumbled out. “Um, I hope you don’t mind, but I got your number from the Mysto Spot Surf Shop.” Why was Rosalyn calling the surf shop looking for me? My chest tightened as a feeling of lightheadedness caused my vision to blur. We were silent for a moment; the only sound was both of us breathing, mine irregular and ragged. Then, she said, “Jax? Jax … have you been crying?”

  “Rosalyn?” My mouth went dry. I tried to form words, but I couldn’t.

  “Are you still there?” she said.

  I covered my mouth with my hand. “Rosalyn?”

  “Are you okay? Is this a bad time?”

  Hell yes, it’s a bad time. “Rosalyn … why did you call?”

  She stammered a reply. “Just because—”

  My body tensed. I sat up straight. “Who gave you my number?”

  “The girl who answered the phone.”

  “She gave out my private number?”

  “I kind of told her it was an emergency. Hey, I know it’s been a long time … but I was wondering—”

  My thoughts scrambled as I struggled to understand. I wanted to talk to Rosalyn, was desperate to ask her a million questions about what had happened after she left me, but I was totally unprepared for this conversation. Instead, I blurted out, “Rosalyn, I’m kind of busy right now. I’ve got to be somewhere.”

  Her voice was meek. “Jax … can we talk?”

  “What emergency?” The vision of Butch’s blank stare flashed through my mind as the foghorn blew. I inspected my bleeding knuckles. “Rosalyn, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong … exactly.”

  “Well, what do you want?”

  “I just really need to talk to you.”

  My thoughts were unfocused. “Well, make it quick ’cause, like I said, I’ve got to be somewhere.”

  Her voice was a whisper. “I don’t want to do this over the phone.”

  My body felt frigid, and it had nothing to do with having been in the ocean. Was I really talking to Rosalyn? Did she think she could waltz back into my life? “Yeah, well, I can’t do it right now.”

  “Please?” Her voice sounded low and pitiful.

  My nails cut into my palms. “What’s this all about?”

  “I know it’s been a long time—”

  “Guess you could say that.”

  “And, I was hoping you would meet me.”

  I reached around and unclasped my wetsuit because I felt like I was choking. Rosalyn had caught me totally off guard at the worst possible time. I wanted to see her, but I also wanted to hurt her. I loved her, and I hated her. “Why?”

  She said, “Just a few minutes. That’s all I need.”

  I scraped my wet hair out of my face and collapsed against the seat. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

  “Please? Jax … I really need to talk to you.”

  I barked out a laugh. “I canno
t wait to hear what you have to say. Go ahead.”

  Rosalyn cleared her throat. “I don’t want to do this over the phone.”

  I felt blood pulsing, rushing to my head and clouding my vision. “Jesus Christ! Just tell me why the hell—”

  When she spoke, her voice shook. “Will you meet me?”

  What kind of scheme had Rosalyn cooked up? I was intrigued, but my brain told me to bolt out of the parking lot. I had to get to Butch. I wanted to slam the phone down, make her feel a fraction of what I’d felt when she walked out on me all those years ago. “Rosalyn, I can’t do this right now. Nice talking to you.”

  “Jax! Wait!”

  “I have to go.”

  “Honey—”

  I wasn’t her honey anymore. “Rosalyn, someone needs me right now.”

  “Wait … please? Just five minutes. Are you still in Point Loma?”

  I tapped my foot impatiently. “No, Rosalyn, I’m not.”

  “Well, I’m in Santa Cruz. Can I meet you somewhere?”

  Santa Cruz? Something in the pathetic sound of her voice made me weaken. I exhaled thirteen years of frustration and longing into my phone. “Matter fact, I’m in Northern Cal right now,” I said.

  “You are? Great! Can I see you tomorrow?”

  The thought of seeing her again caused anxiety to spread over my body like an icy wind. All those years separated, and now she called? My heart pounded like a school kid; a fluttery feeling filled my stomach. I knew that I’d meet Rosalyn.

  “What time and where?” I said.

  “You know Pleasure Point?”

  “Yeah, I know the place.”

  “There’s a bench at the park, right there where the guys surf. Can you meet me tomorrow at five?”

  I opened my mouth to voice one last protest to make her squirm, but instead heard myself say, “Fine.”

  Relief flooded her voice. “Jax, thank you.”

  We ended the call, and all the breath left my lungs. It was as though I was in an alternate universe. What did Rosalyn want? My thoughts leapt to Holly. I was anxious to call her, tell her everything was okay. I knew she waited patiently at home, eager for word of how the waves were, wanting to make sure I was safe. I didn’t want to upset her. I would call her later, once I had more information on Butch. My hands shook, and my throat was dry.