By the time Hersch got back to his hotel room, he was already beating himself up. Why, of all the Realtors in Carmel-by-the-Sea, had he insisted on choosing Mila Davenport? Was it because she was beautiful? Which she undoubtedly was. He’d felt the connection with her before they’d even met in the moment he’d first set eyes on that painting of her fearlessly riding a wave as though she were some kind of water goddess. When he’d turned and found himself facing the woman herself, he’d been as close to speechless as he’d ever been. She was even more beautiful in real life.
Even through the ordeal of having his own life story pitched to him by some hotshot Hollywood agent, he’d felt that she understood and supported him. He felt a connection that was much more intense and deep than a simple physical spark, though of course he’d be kidding himself if he denied that the attraction was there. It was more like an explosion inside him than a spark. Yes, it overrode even that intense attraction—a meeting of two souls that had much to offer each other.
He’d already decided to hire a local real estate professional when she’d given him her card. It struck him as a happy coincidence, a sign maybe, that moving to Carmel was the right thing to do. He’d had his doubts about buying property in this gorgeous but beachy town. But when a Realtor landed at his feet, he’d be a fool not to follow his instincts.
And it wasn’t just about Mila’s pretty face, rocking-hot body, and that unspoken connection. He was a scientist—he trusted statistics. So when he’d decided to go ahead with purchasing in Carmel, his thorough research told him that Mila Davenport was one of the top salespeople in the area. And when Jay phoned him, he’d confirmed she was one of the best. In fact, Jay had told him he was thinking of buying in Carmel as well, and that Mila was the Realtor he’d choose. So, Hersch had decided to go ahead with the woman he’d wanted to hire when she’d first presented him with her card.
However, he hadn’t exactly gone about acting on that decision in the most straightforward way. He hadn’t emailed her or phoned her like a normal person would. No, instead he’d gone down to the beach, to the very edge of the water that had nearly sucked him under forever, and watched her ride those waves with the fearlessness and grace he’d admired in her portrait. Watching her in real time, he’d seen something magical about the way she danced on the waves. He’d felt a yearning deep within him. Almost a pull, as though something was encouraging him to wade out into the water just to be with her—even as the very thought of doing that made him break out in a sweat.
The scientist in him tried to investigate his own motives and accept that maybe her being a water goddess was part of her attraction. He had a feeling that there were a lot of people who could find him a house he would want to buy, but not so many who would challenge him in the way she did. Because he had to get over his fear of water, or he was never going on another mission to space. The thought chilled him to his very core. Being an astronaut was his whole life. He couldn’t imagine another way of living.
Herschel Greenfield had never faced a challenge he couldn’t rise to. He was famous for it. He was single-minded in getting around every obstacle put in his way. And there had been many. How else had he gone from being one of the millions of kids in the world who dreamed of being an astronaut to finding himself one day up in space looking down on that gorgeous, glowing blue and white planet? No matter how big or how small, when he set his mind on a goal, he didn’t rest until he’d achieved it. When he’d decided to bake his mom a birthday cake in space and sing her “Happy Birthday,” he’d figured out a way to do that, even when it had seemed an impossibility. Was he really going to give up the career he’d spent his life preparing for, the career he loved, because he was scared of water?
Even the thought made him feel ashamed.
He went to the window of his hotel room and looked out to where the ocean teased him, still looking gray and hardly postcard beautiful, but alluring all the same. Each rising wave appeared to him as a challenge. He stood there, looking at the surf that seemed to tease him, and said aloud, “I’m going to give myself this week, and then I’m going to make myself get there.”
He wasn’t even sure what his words meant. Get there? Get where? Did he think he was going to be swimming in a week? Or would his aim be to put his big toe in the water?
Even the thought had his heart pounding and panic rising in his chest. However, he’d always been a natural athlete, which had helped him pass with flying colors all those excruciating physical tests required of astronauts. It wasn’t difficult to imagine himself on a surfboard. He was fairly certain he had the stamina and ability and muscle strength to do it. His balance was excellent too. He could even walk a tightrope.
The picture formed in his head, and it stuck there. Mila, as he’d seen her that morning, riding so proudly, standing so gracefully, knees bent, hair streaming back in the wind. And himself, beside her on his own board. Maybe he wouldn’t ride with her confidence and style—she was a former professional, after all—but one day he might stand on a surfboard and ride a wave.
No, one day he would stand on a surfboard and ride a wave. He had a long way to go to get there, but he would start small. One baby step at a time.
Mila Davenport looked like she ruled the waves. If anyone could help him get back out there, it was she. Besides, if she were next to him, watching his progress, he’d be doubly determined to overcome his fear. He wanted, he realized, to impress her.
But did he still have it in him to impress a woman like Mila? One year had passed since he’d nearly drowned. It didn’t seem like so much as a minute had gone by when he pictured the disaster that had nearly cost him and his crew their lives. The whole scene was still vivid, raw in its intensity. He’d lived with this terrible fear for a year. Now it was time to suck it up and move on.
With nothing better to do, he pulled up the online real estate listings for Carmel Heights. Yes, Mila had said she would take a look at what was available, but again his nature as a researcher and a scientist meant that he couldn’t hand control over to someone completely. He needed to know as much as he could before going into a new situation. She said she was good, Jay Malone had said she was good, and the reviews on her website were of happy clients who sang her praises, but Hersch knew himself well enough to know he’d be making his own assessment of her skills and ability.
He flipped through the listings, and while he was pleased at the lack of ocean views and the amount of land the properties offered, nothing appealed to him strongly. He was looking for the wow factor, like he did with everything else in his life. He just wasn’t the kind of person to accept something ordinary. Unless it was an ocean swim.
Clicking off the real estate listings, he checked his email. Amazingly, there was one from Jay Malone. Subject line: Love to chat more about our movie project.
How had the agent even found his email address? He opened the email with some trepidation, wondering why the heck a top Hollywood agent had nothing better to do with his time than hassle a burned-out astronaut. Worst of all, the word no seemed to mean nothing at all to Jay Malone. Clearly, this was a man who never gave up. And then Hersch smiled to himself wryly. Maybe he of all people could forgive Jay this trait.
The email was simple. A line of pleasantries and then straight to the hard sell. Jay had loved their meeting and was beyond excited to talk more.
Hersch couldn’t imagine anything to be less excited about. Jay signed off with a final, pushy reminder to get back in touch ASAP. He shook his head. It took less than a second to decide to ignore the email. And then suddenly, he couldn’t stand his hotel suite another minute.
He needed to get out of his head and move his body.
He put on his running gear. In his book, a good, hard run could fix any kind of mood. As he pulled the navy blue T-shirt over his head, he touched the Saint Christopher’s medal that always hung on a gold chain around his neck. It had been passed down from his grandfather. His mother swore the medal had seen her dad safely through World War II, and scientist or not, sometimes Hersch believed it was part of the reason he’d come home safely from space. He never took it off.
It was the time of year when he’d normally be training for an Ironman competition. He loved the challenge, lived for it, really, and it was the most fun way he could think of to stay in top physical shape for his missions. But the Ironman meant completing the swimming section, and how was he going to do that when he couldn’t even dip his big toe in the water? It infuriated him that something so simple was holding him back.
He pulled on his shorts and socks and then warmed up with his tried and tested routine of calisthenic stretches before heading out.
He chose a trail far away from the ocean in Garland Ranch Regional Park in Carmel Valley. It was beautiful, green, and lush, with a few lingering wildflowers and a small grove of redwood trees at its heart. He began running and soon felt as though every trail went straight uphill without ever having a corresponding downhill, even though he’d chosen what should have been an easy run by his standards. He was running hard and fast, a sweat quickly forming as he tried to burn off his frustration, feeling the sweat drip down the sides of his face. Even as the breath was dragging into his lungs, he blinked sweat out of his eyes and took a moment to really appreciate the scrubby greenery and natural beauty of his surroundings.
Mila Davenport was right. There was something truly special about Carmel. It was the right place to make his new home.
And that couldn’t happen soon enough. He’d been in his hotel for only a few days, but he really needed to get out of there. He could already picture himself in his new house. In spite of the fact that nothing had inspired him in the online listings, he had a feeling that Mila would come up with something. She seemed a lot like him—somebody who really rose to a challenge. Not so long ago, she’d been flying high as one of the top female surfers in the world, when an accident had wrecked her career. The more he’d learned about her, the more he’d found himself completely engaged in her story. He’d kept clicking and reading, clicking and reading, discovering all that he could about her career and the accident that had ended it.
He’d studied the photographs, read the numerous media articles. His heart had gone out to a young and stunning Mila with the world’s biggest grin, blonde hair wet from the ocean and slicked back, and pearly-white teeth on show. She hadn’t known then how quickly everything she’d worked for and believed in could be taken away. The life she’d worked for had been over in a matter of moments. Just one bad wave.
They had that in common, too, because if he wasn’t very careful, everything he had worked so hard for and believed in was going to be swept away by his fear of the water. It was such a stupid thing, and as his feet pounded solid ground, he felt his frustration rise again to the surface. He ran harder, pushing himself. He was going to have to keep pushing himself, in all manner of uncomfortable ways. He could do this. He knew he could.
Mila still had her sunny smile, but he saw the shadow behind it. The older and probably wiser Mila had learned the hard way that life wasn’t fair, that talent, hard work, and luck weren’t always enough. Luck could be both good and bad, and there wasn’t a damn thing you could do about where it fell.
But at least she’d found a new path for herself. He deeply admired the guts and dedication it must have taken for her to hang up her board professionally and retrain for a completely different career. Not only had she started over, but she’d also worked her way to the top of her second profession. She had gumption in spades, and he liked that. In fact, it was sexy as hell.
He looked up, and suddenly he was able to picture Mila looking down at him from the top of the hill he was climbing. She was giving him that warm, knowing smile she had, daring him, and it made him pick up the pace and pound the ground. Despite the burning sensation in his legs, he smiled back. Mila Davenport had gotten under his skin. If she did find him a house—no, scratch that. When she found him a house, he wondered what the appropriate amount of time would be before he could invite his Realtor out for a date.
It had been a long time since any woman had appealed to him the way she did. In the past year, he’d not felt even a flicker of interest about a person of the opposite sex. It was as though every part of him was struggling to come back to life. Even his libido. But since he’d met Mila, he seemed to have switched on again. Switched on to Mila Davenport.
He rounded a bend and realized that his speed had almost doubled. Just the thought of Mila spurred him on. But then doubt began to creep in, swirling its sly way around his guts. Maybe he’d gotten ahead of himself. He only had to think about going on a date with Mila when he began to write the whole story in his mind. He could envision so clearly the romantic restaurants, holding hands, weekend hikes, and then moving to a physical relationship. Their chemistry would be electric. They would become enchanted with each other until, one day, they’d get married. It wasn’t hard to picture her looking up at him with confidence as he slipped a ring onto her finger.
It was a tempting fantasy, but he’d seen how hard it was for his friends who had wives and families to leave for space, knowing the dangers they faced. He’d never wanted to leave anyone he loved at home. It was too painful for everyone involved, and he’d witnessed too many times the breakdown of a perfect couple when faced with the immense distance space put between them.
And kids he’d have to leave behind? Well, he didn’t think he could do it. He loved his mother dearly, and he’d become pretty famous with her birthday cake in space, but it wasn’t like he had a choice in having a mother. Having a wife and kids was a decision—one that should never be taken lightly.
Not that he lived like a monk, of course. He enjoyed the company of women and sex as much as the next red-blooded male, and Mila seemed like a woman who could do casual, which at this point was all he was capable of. Even as he could imagine her accepting his ring, he could also imagine the two of them burning up the sheets. Neither had acknowledged it, but the chemistry was undeniable. He was, after all, a man of science.
By the time Hersch returned to his hotel room, he knew two things—he was going to work really hard to find a house he could be at least reasonably happy in for the next couple of years. And he was definitely going to ask out his Realtor.
Some challenges were meant to be faced, and he was determined to succeed in this one.