Breaker's Passion Read Online Free Page A

riding the waves. The angle of the sun told her that she had no more than fifteen minutes left before it was too dark to surf safely. Many nights she stayed long into the darkness, hour after hour, until exhaustion finally forced her ashore, where she staggered home and collapsed in bed.
    But something was different about this evening. A prickle on the back of her neck told her someone was watching her. That wasn’t unusual. The ratio of male to female surfers was very one-sided, and, all ego aside, none of the guys were as good as she was. Often people stared and pointed. She didn’t like the attention and didn’t know if she should feel uncomfortable or flattered. While she waited for the next wave she scanned the shoreline. It was too dark to see clearly, but someone appeared to be sitting in one of the lounge chairs not far from the entrance to the resort pool area. She had a strange feeling this person had been watching her for quite some time.

    Elizabeth looked out at the horizon and accepted a glass of wine from the waiter. The maître d’ must have guessed she preferred patio seating to the boisterous noise inside the restaurant. He had led her to this table at the far end closest to the railing that separated her from the beach retreat below. She glanced at the menu, but was more interested in her surroundings. The large patio still had an intimate feel. The small tables and chairs were arranged to provide maximum privacy. She imagined lovers, newlyweds, or people celebrating monumental anniversaries sitting at these tables and watching the sunset.
    Sipping her wine, she observed the die-hard beachgoers. The other tourists had most likely retreated to their rooms to shower or get ready for dinner. By the looks of some she saw earlier, more than a few were probably applying sunburn relief.
    She also noticed the surfers in the water and stopped counting at fourteen, deciding she wasn’t here to analyze how many were surfing or what they were doing, but to just enjoy the scenery. Finishing her first drink, she watched the surfers alternately ride the waves or fall off their boards almost as quick as they got up. They all looked about the same in their board shorts that hung down to their knees, their tank tops, and an occasional wet suit. They were various shapes, sizes, and heights, and had very different skill levels.
    Her dinner arrived and she ate leisurely, with no pressure from her waiter, which she appreciated. Far too often as a lone diner she felt hurried, the wait staff eager to dispose of her and her small tip in favor of a larger table and a corresponding larger one. Her waiter was cordial, polite, and attentive yet wasn’t a pest.
    She ate her fresh tuna fillet, glancing often at the surfers, especially one. The more she watched, the more she sensed something different about this individual other than the bright yellow shorts. This one was better than the three or four remaining surfers. Much better, with a skill obviously practiced over and over. Even from this distance she could sense the surfer’s confidence and mastery of the waves, as if anticipating what the wave would do. No matter how much practice or how many lessons she had, she would never be as good as the one in the yellow shorts.
    Transferring her third glass of wine to a plastic cup, she paid her bill and again headed toward the water. No glass was allowed on the beach, and she didn’t mind drinking out of plastic. She was here for the weather and relaxation, and to work, so the ambience was secondary.
    Settling into one of the many now-vacant beach chairs, she was intent on enjoying her drink and the sand between her toes. In the time it took to finish her dinner, all but one of the surfers had come ashore. The one remaining was the one who had caught her eye earlier. She couldn’t quite place what was different about this surfer as she watched the form ride the board into shore.

    Colby emerged from the water and shook her head