Page 19 of Pure Temptation

“He doesn’t hang around the bar?” He’d read that Keahi was known for enjoying all of life’s pleasures. Often.

“He meets with a few guests and works the jobs around here every now and then, but he definitely keeps a low profile.”

Good. Because the idea of Byron Keahi flirting with Kendall wasn’t sitting well with him.

“So no staff Christmas dinners at the boss’s house?”

Kendall shook her head. “Nope. But a good Christmas bonus more than makes up for it.”

The road took them to the shore and turned, heading along the stretch between the beach and the forest, toward the tip of the peninsula. They were high above the ocean and still climbing, high enough to see the curl of each wave, rolling around the point and breaking in long-running tubes toward shore.

Kendall stopped at the turnoff to a trail that zigzagged down to the beach, weaving through the rocky hillside. He stopped next to her, close enough to settle his hand on her waist or against the small of her back. He was dying to touch her.

But he couldn’t, so he just leaned closer. “If we continued heading uphill, where would the path take us?”

“If you keep left on the trail, you get to one of my favorite places. Maybe I’ll show it to you one day.”

“As my reward for behaving?”

She gave a little snort. “Your life is already full of rewards, Dax.”

It was true, so why did he still have this hole inside him, this need he couldn’t seem to fill in any lasting way? There were moments of real satisfaction, like right now, standing here with Kendall. But mostly they came when he was doing something physical, something that took every bit of his concentration, every ounce of his focus. The satisfaction used to last longer, but lately it faded too quickly. And it was a selfish kind of satisfaction, which Kendall had gently pointed out to him six months ago.

“Remember that conversation we had back in Costa Rica?” he asked.

“The one about high risk versus high consequence?”

He nodded. It began at the end of a PT session and continued so naturally and easily into dinner, unfolding as the evening darkened in that beachside restaurant. Hell, he’d wanted her badly that night. He had replayed that conversation in so many different ways, but right now, he was thinking about the part where she had pointed out some gaping holes in his ideas.

“You know, that conversation was one of the reasons I took the job at the Kalani,” she said softly.

His eyebrows shot up. There had been an intensity between them that night, and he was pretty sure she wouldn’t have forgotten it. But he hadn’t been sure if the night had stuck with her in the same way it had with him. Maybe it had.

“I loved visiting new places as a traveling PT, but I didn’t love the impermanence of it. There was always this idea in the back of my mind that someday I’d move somewhere new, stay there.” She looked out at the ocean, like she was debating how much to say. Then she turned to him again. “At dinner that night, you told me that I was mixing up risk and consequence, and you were right. I had never differentiated the two. I used high risk as a reason for not trying things, things that I wanted, when I really should have been looking at consequence. The risk of moving, that my life would change drastically, that I would be far away from my parents if anything happened—those risks could be high. But the consequence was low. I could get on a flight and go see them at any point. And I could probably even get my old job back.”

“And the move turned out fine?”

“Better than fine.” She smiled. “What made you think of that night?”

There was the fact that he wanted to kiss her just as badly then as he did right now, but that probably wasn’t the connection she was looking for at the moment.

Daxon ran a hand through his hair. “I just wanted to say that you were right that day, too. That my assessment of risk and consequence was based on how things affected me. But the decisionsdon’tjust affect me.”

Kendall laughed. “Sounds a little harsh now, out of context.”

He shook his head. “Just honest. And understandable, considering what you and your mom went through when your dad was in the middle of fire season, choosing to go back, again and again.”

She smiled a little. “I wasn’t sure how closely you were listening that evening. Especially when I caught you looking down the front of my dress.”

He chuckled. “I was multitasking.”

Then his smile faded. He wanted her to know that he hadn’t forgotten a word she’d said that day about what it was like to watch someone she loved choose a high-consequence profession. Nor had he forgotten the reservations she voiced that came from having clients who were injured in high-consequence situations. But in the end, her drive to help these people was stronger than her personal opinion. No, he had not forgotten any of that.

“I talked with my mother after that conversation,” he said quietly. “I wanted to hear what she thought about what you said.”

Kendall nodded, but she said nothing.

“She said it was hard sometimes, watching me do the things I did. But she trusted me to make the right decisions.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I was hoping she’d give me a definite answer, but she pushed it back on me. I hope I’m making the right choices for her.”