“What kind of a shark was it?”

“A bull shark.”

“Those guys can be bullies.”

“This one was. It came soaring out of the water like some bullet, all spinning. Then it belly-flopped onto the ocean, making this huge slapping sound and waves.”

“That’s a threatening gesture,” he pointed out. “A warning to the other fish. Even still, shark aggression to humans doesn’t happen often. I get really pissed by those TV shows showing”—he lifted his hands to make a threatening gesture and lowered his voice like a bogeyman—“shark attacks. It’s all marketing and the sharks get a bad rap. Most of the accidents with sharks in our waters are just that—accidents. A case of mistaken identity. That water is murky. And in your case, the shape of the surfboard might have resembled a turtle or a seal, both common prey. You weren’t wearing any flashy jewelry in the water?”

“God, no. I’ve been surfing all my life. I know better.”

“We call this kind of attack a hit-and-run. Once the shark figures out the swimmer is too big or not part of his diet, he swims off. At most there’d be a single slash.”

“Great,” Carson said with a roll of the eyes.

“Better than a bite.”

She shuddered at the thought of even a scrape from the massive teeth she’d seen. “This shark meant business. I could feel it in my gut.”

He paused. “You said you got bumped?”

She nodded.

He pursed his lips. “A bump represents serious hunting. We call this a bump-and-bite. The shark circles the prey, then bumps the victim prior to an actual attack.” He rubbed his jaw. “In thinking more about what happened to you—you’re a lucky girl. Sounds like you were caught in a feeding frenzy. That dolphin might well have saved you from a bite.”

“I know,” she said slowly, her eyes wide. “I’m so grateful. I want to do something.”

“Do something?”

“To help. Volunteer . . . something.” She kicked a pebble with her foot. “You couldn’t think of something I could do?”

His smile came, slow, thoughtful. “I think I can. I do an assessment of the resident dolphins every month. We take out our boat and journey all along the waterways where pods hang out. Would you like to come along?”

She couldn’t contain her excitement. “Yes!”

Blake looked at his wristwatch. “Damn. It’s late. I have to run.”

“I should go, too,” Carson said, swallowing the thousands of questions on the tip of her tongue. In fact, she could have sat there with him in that beautiful park for hours more. But he was late and in a hurry.

Blake rose to stand and immediately Hobbs was on his feet, eyes anxiously focused on his master. Blake punched at his phone, checking his calendar. “We’re scheduled to take the boat this month.” He looked up. “It’ll take all day. Can you get off work?”

“I’ll try. Shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Good. I’ll call you with the details.”

“Okay,” she said, feeling more excited about this boat trip than she had about anything in a very long time. Was it fate that Blake was involved with dolphins? Another sign?

Blake offered her a final smile and a parting wave. “Okay then. I’ve got your number.”

She returned the smile and the wave, then watched him walk off at a fast clip, Hobbs trotting at his heels. Carson reached down for her purse, then ambled slowly along the park back to her golf cart. Oh yes, she thought to herself, swinging her arm. Blake Legare most certainly did have her number.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Carson arrived at the beach for her kiteboarding lesson. Her body was well primed and well fed and she felt confident with Blake as her teacher. She was ready to hit the water.

She wasn’t prepared for the fact that she’d spend the day with a trainer kite on the beach.

“I don’t need a trainer kite,” Carson complained to Blake as they walked along the beach to a quiet corner. She notched her chin up in defiance. “I’ve done a lot of surfing. How much harder can it be?”

“Listen up, Carson,” Blake told her in a firm voice. “Kiting is more about controlling the air than surfing the water. Learning to control the kite is the first step. It’s major. Plus, kites are very expensive when compared to trainer kites.”

“If it’s just about the money, I—”

Blake’s face drew tight and his brows furrowed in annoyance. “When it comes to teaching kiteboarding, Carson, I’m not going to fool around. Kiteboarding is an extreme sport and potentially dangerous. Your surfing experience will be a bonus, but not at all enough to get you airborne safely. If you didn’t know what you were doing, you could seriously hurt not only yourself, but others out there on the water. And even here on the beach. Those kites have a lot of power and you first have to learn how to harness it and control it. So we’re going to practice on land today with a smaller kite. Okay?”

Blake’s eyes flashed and the way he said okay was preemptive. He wasn’t about to tolerate any more complaints. He continued. “Then we’ll progress to other skills. When you master those steps, then, and only then, will I let you go out on the water.” He paused. “With me.”

Figuring resistance was futile at this point, Carson swallowed her pride and nodded in compliance.

Blake stepped closer, put his arm around her shoulders, and kissed her. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

It was a brief kiss, hardly passionate, but it was disarming. Carson suddenly understood what it meant to have the wind go out of one’s sails.

Blake took her out to the beach every day there was wind, and each day she lost a bit more of her anxiety about going back into the ocean. By the end of the week, she was begging Blake to go in. Finally, he declared her ready for the water.

On the big day, they walked side by side to a quiet section of the beach, away from others. Carson felt the anticipation thrumming in her veins. Blake was her assistant for the launch. After they’d pumped air into the kite, she walked several yards away in the harness while he straightened out the long lines to the kite.

“Gear’s ready. You ready?” he called out.

Carson felt her heart pump wildly in her chest. She froze in the harness, unable to respond.