by Claire Adams
“That's lust, nothing more,” Mina said. “You haven't had sex in too long, and your lady parts are wishing for it.” She pulled up outside my house. “Seriously, Gretchen, I want you to promise me that you're not about to get back into things with Lino, of all people. You could do so much better than that, and I hope you know it.”
I sighed. “I don't think I'm going to get back into things with Lino,” I told her.
“Good,” she said firmly. “And forget all that nonsense about finding your true love. That stuff only exists in books. Maybe those books make a nice escape from reality, but they're just that: an escape from reality. In real life, things work differently. Trust me.”
I shook my head. “We'll have to agree to disagree, I guess.” I smiled at her. “I'll see you tomorrow morning.”
“See you tomorrow,” Mina said, smiling back at me.
I walked slowly up to my porch, thinking over the conversation. I glanced over at my book, which was still sitting there next to my hammock, waiting for me to get back to it. “Maybe Gretchen is right,” I murmured to myself. “Maybe true love only does exist in those books.”
Chapter 7
Christian
With so much travel in my life over the past ten years, I had my system down pat at this point. I could sleep through nearly everything on the flight, but I somehow always managed to wake up just before the wheels touched down.
I filed through the airport with everyone else and stepped out into shockingly warm weather. When I'd left New York, it had been 43˚F. Here, it was a balmy 72˚F, if the pilot was to be believed. There were palm trees swaying in a warm breeze, and everywhere I looked, there were beautiful, tanned women walking around in shorts and crop tops.
I had to wonder why I'd never come to Hawaii before. The ski vacations had been fun, but there was a big difference between picking up a woman wearing a chunky sweater and picking up a woman wearing a sundress: with the latter, you knew exactly what you were getting.
I threw my duffel bag into the back of a cab. I'd packed light, figuring I could always pick up whatever I needed once I arrived. I didn't own that many summery clothes anyway. Sure, I had some shorts, but most of them were formal that I could wear to work. Nothing that you'd wear to a beach.
I slipped into the cab, barely refraining from rolling my eyes at the way the cabbie was staring at me. “You're Christian Wall!” he said.
Spotted already.
“That's right,” I said. “I need to get to the Golden Palm Resort. Can you take me there?”
“Sure thing,” he said, flicking on the meter. As we started driving, he kept glancing over at me. “I just can't believe that you're here!” he said. “My friends are never going to believe that I drove Christian Wall from the airport.”
I sighed. “Please don't tell anyone,” I asked. God, I should have made the kid sign an NDA before I got in the car or something. Not that I ever minded the attention, but I was trying to be low-key here. I'd picked a quiet little resort for a reason. If I'd wanted my name splashed all over the news, I would have run off to Europe to booze my way through the best clubs in the world.
I didn't know why I hadn't. I just wanted the trip to be something different.
“Oh, you're trying to keep things hush-hush, hmm?” the kid—Mark, his nametag said—asked. “That makes sense. Man, you were all over the news last week.”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “Usually it's just girls who know my reputation,” I told him.
“Oh no,” Mark said, shaking his head as he changed lanes. “A lot of my friends all follow what you're up to. We only wish we could be you.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, laughing a little. “You wish you could be a whole company's...” I grimaced, not even sure what word I wanted. I still maintained that I hadn't fucked anything up, but all the same…
“Nah, man, with the chicks and the money and all of that,” Mark said. “You could quit your job, buy a house on the beach, and just surf every day. All day, every day.”
I snorted. “I mean, I could, I guess,” I said. “I'd probably get sick of surfing after a while, though.”
“You could never get sick of surfing,” Mark said, shaking his head. “Every new wave that you catch is a different wave. It's just like fucking, man. Every girl is different. And even if you have sex with the same girl twice, well…”
“I try my best to never have sex with the same girl twice.”
Mark laughed. “See, man, that's why we love you. You've pretty much got cult status at this point.”
I couldn't help grinning a little. “I guess it is a pretty good life,” I agreed, even though I was starting to wonder whether that was true. Call me stupid, but I'd started to feel a bit lonely lately. It made sense. Besides Paul, I didn't have that many friends. Definitely no one who I could turn to and just know that they'd be there for me, on my side, no matter what. And it was always the same thing, repeatedly. Sure, I liked what I was doing, but, there had to be something more to life.
“It's a great life,” Mark said enthusiastically. “There's this girl here on the island who is smoking hot, but she's way out of my league. What I wouldn't give to be like you. Even if I had one or the other, looks or money, I could get her to sleep with me. You have it all. Anything that you want in the world, you can get it.”
“Maybe not anything,” I said, thinking darkly about George and my job and the fact that I had been exiled from the office for the foreseeable future.
“Okay, but most things,” Mark persisted. “You're going to have a fucking blast here in Hawaii, let me tell you. There's so many great places. You're going to want to get away from the touristy stuff for a bit too. Luaus are fun and all, but that's not all the locals do for nightlife. And there's some great Hawaiian wines and beers that you'll want to check out while you're here. I'm biased because I grew up here, and let's face it, I've never tasted a really good Italian wine or anything like that, but they're pretty great.”
I smiled over at him. “I'll have to get some recommendations for places,” I told him, although I was just planning on hanging around the resort until I got sick of it. Then maybe I'd jet off to the next place.
“Yeah, no, I can give you recommendations,” Mark said. “Better yet, if you need a driver while you're here, I can give you my number, and you can call me up anytime. Even if you're stumbling back drunk from the clubs or something like that. Or if you want to take a personal tour of the island.”
“You got a sister?” I asked, grinning over at him.
Mark laughed. “Man, that's not even cool!” he said. “But no, I don't have a sister. Thank god, or else I'd have to be worrying about her now that you're here on the island. I've just got a couple of younger brothers, though, and I guess you wouldn't be too interested in them. But I know a lot of the girls on the island. Like I said, I've grown up here. We had this big locals’ luau the other night, and it was surprising how many of us showed up. Kind of like a big reunion. It was neat.”
“Sounds nice,” I said, already beginning to feel a bit bored.
“Do you surf, man?” Mark asked. “Because that's another thing I could recommend, all the best surf spots on the island. The waves this time of year, man. They're the best.”
“There's not much surfing around New York City,” I told him.
“Well, no shit, I imagine the water's fucking cold,” Mark said. “But how much of the year do you even spend in New York? It seems like you're always off doing this or that.”
I laughed. “Unfortunately, I'm usually traveling on business, so my days are pretty busy. I get my evenings free, but that's about it.”
“But you snowboard, right? There were all those stories about you and Jamie Michaels and that trip to the Alps.”
“I ski.”
Mark gave me an astonished look. “Man, what are you doing with your life?” he asked me. “My dad skis, and he's practically ancient. Even when he was younger, he didn't go out partying like you do.”
I shrugged. “Yeah, I just like it. I've tried snowboarding a few times, but it never really stuck.”
“You should try surfing while you're here,” Mark said. “It's the best.”
I shook my head, still grinning. “Yeah, maybe I will,” I told him. We pulled up in front of my resort. “Hey, here's my card,” Mark said, grabbing one out of the center of the dashboard. “Seriously, man, if you need recommendations or a ride or whatever else, you just let me know.”
“Thanks,” I said, slipping the card into my wallet. It was a strange thing to have in there amongst the real estate cards and other miscellaneous things that I was starting to associate with my quote-unquote old life. Paul said that they would take me back, but I could already feel myself beginning to cut ties with that. I didn't think George would take me back. This leave might not be permanent, but that didn't mean that it wouldn't stretch on for as long as he chose.
I grabbed my duffel bag and walked up to the resort. It was a nice place, just as pretty as advertised. When I walked into the vast, tiled lobby, two Hawaiian women in hula skirts swayed over to me and deposited leis around my neck. I laughed. “What do you know, I got laid within an hour of reaching Hawaii!” I said.
They must have heard it before, but both of them still giggled, and I felt my spirits rise a little. Maybe Hawaii would be everything that I needed. Maybe I'd be able to get both of them in bed with me, together, even, by the end of my stay there. We'd see.
I made my way over to the desk and picked up my room key. The suite was spacious, and the décor matched the idea of tropical paradise. Gauzy white curtains waved lazily beside open French doors on the far side of the living room, and I made my way over. The view was impressive, a long stretch of sandy beach with only a few umbrellas dotted along it, and leafy palm trees leaning toward the water. The waves were crashing against the shore, but it looked like the perfect place to swim. The weather was perfect for it that day, too.
I smiled a little to myself. Maybe this whole “taking time off work” thing wasn't so bad after all. I turned toward the mini-bar and inspected its contents. There was an ice tray in the freezer; thoughtful of them. I poured myself a glass of whiskey on the rocks and turned back toward the view. Yes, this would do quite nicely.
Chapter 8
Gretchen
I looked up as I heard the bells chime over the door, a greeting already on my lips even though my first appointment wouldn't be there for another twenty minutes or so. They wouldn't be the first clients to come in early. It was unfortunate on that particular morning since I was trying to get some of the shop paperwork finished, but I could do it later, I supposed.
My face melted into a smile when I saw that it was Mina there, though, and she had brought a bowl of fresh pineapple over with her. “Good morning, darling,” she said, coming in for a hug.
“Good morning!”
“I thought you could do with some pineapple in your life,” Mina said, holding out the bowl and a fork.
“I could always do with some pineapple in my life,” I said, grinning at her.
“I am sick of pineapple,” Mina announced. “In fact, I think I quit. I'm not going to work there today; I'm going to come work for you. You could use an assistant, right?”
I laughed. “Sure, I could! Especially if it was an assistant who I liked.”
Mina laughed as well. “Nah,” she said. “You know I love what I do. I love that I can make people happy and give them a little taste of this tropical paradise that we live in. But some days, I do wish we could work together so that I could see a little more of you.”
“That would be nice,” I agreed. “Actually, I’m thinking that it would be nice to have an assistant. I'm trying to fill out some of the shop's paperwork right now, and you know me. I don't have much of a head for business. I know enough to get by, but it's so painful trying to fill out these forms and pretend like I know what I'm doing.”
“You do know what you're doing,” Mina said encouragingly. “Or at least, you're the one I always turn to when I need to fill out shop paperwork!”
I laughed. “We're quite the pair, aren't we?”
“I guess I'd better get back to my shop, and let you get back to the paperwork!” Mina said. “I'm sure it'll all be done soon.”
“See you later,” I said.
Mina gave a little wave and left. Not two minutes later, the phone started ringing, and I groaned. The paperwork was never going to get done before my first appointment for the day. Still, I picked up the phone, giving a cheerful hello.
“Hi, Gretchen, this is Cindy from over at the Golden Palm Resort. We have a guest here who was looking to make an appointment for a massage this afternoon, and I was wondering if you have any availability in your schedule.”
“Hi, Cindy; that shouldn't be a problem. I have an opening for either a one- or two-hour massage from 1 to 3 p.m. or time for a one-hour massage after 4 p.m.; which would they prefer?”
“Let me ask,” Cindy said. I could hear her conferring in muffled tones with the customer. Then, she came back on the line. “He'd like to do a two-hour massage at one o'clock.”
“Great, I'll pencil him in. What's his full name?”
“Christian Wall.”
“Excellent. I'll be waiting for him. I'm assuming you can give him directions to find me?”
“Of course.” She lowered her voice. “But can I just say, you don't sound very excited.”
I frowned, wondering what she expected. Did she think I'd never given a massage to a guy before or something? “I assure you, Cindy, I'm excited about all of my customers, new and returning,” I said.
“All right,” Cindy said, not sounding convinced.
“My first client has just walked in the door, so you'll have to excuse me,” I said. “But you can tell Mr. Wall that I'm looking forward to seeing him this afternoon.”
That afternoon, I hurriedly finished up the paperwork just before Christian came into the shop. Finally, I thought. God, I hated paperwork.
I looked up as the bells chimed over the door, and my breath caught in my throat. Man, oh man, was he gorgeous. He had dark hair that he had styled into a swept back, messy do. He was muscular, and he had tattoos swirling down his right arm. And those hazel eyes… I swallowed hard.
But the thing of it was, he no doubt knew that he was gorgeous, and he probably had an ego the size of the planet. I couldn't stand guys with huge egos. Anyway, at the moment, he was just another customer.
“Hi, and welcome to Paradise Massage,” I said. “I'm Gretchen, and I'll be your masseuse today.”
The guy gave me a once-over, and I could practically see the gears turning in his head. Yeah, he probably thought I was just dying to drop my panties for him. He could think again.
“I don't do happy-ending massages,” I warned him before he could even get something like that in his mind.
He blinked at me for a moment and then burst out laughing. “Oh shit,” he said. “Sorry, I didn't mean to be that obvious about it. Just, you're pretty hot, and I've probably just got this whole thing off on the wrong foot.”
“Here's your robe,” I told him frostily, holding out the garment. “If you want to go change in the room there, I'll be in in a moment to get started.”
The man grimaced. “Do I have to wear these?” he asked. “I always find it's better to get a massage without clothes in the way.” I frowned at him, wondering just where he got off. But he held up both hands. “That's not a come-on, I just actually feel that way,” he said defensively. “And I have a lot of tension that needs to be worked out, so I want the best.”
I sighed and finally relented. It wasn't as though he was some old pervert asking if I'd give him a naked massage, after all. And I was kind of curious to see what those abs looked like without a shirt in the way. “Fine,” I said. “But don't tell anyone that I do this, okay? I keep a pretty upscale clientele, and I don't need anyone getting uncomfortable or thinking that I do more than
I do, okay?”
“My lips are sealed,” Christian said. “I hope it goes without saying, but you won't tell anyone about this either, will you?”
“Who would I tell?” I asked, baffled. “Unless your girlfriend or someone is going to come in here tomorrow and ask about this, no, this goes no further than between us.”
Christian snorted. “I don't have a girlfriend,” he said.
“I don't have a boyfriend either,” I said. Then, I bit my lip. Jesus, why had I said that? He so didn't need to know that. And he didn't need another reason to hit on me.
“I'll just go strip down, then,” Christian said, nodding toward the other room. “Come in when you're ready.”
I closed my eyes and counted to ten, wondering how he had me this riled up already. I wasn't even sure if I was upset with him or lusting after him. It was a very strange, chaotic mix of feelings inside of me.
I entered the massage room, glad to find that he had laid down on his stomach first. It didn't mean that he wasn't going to roll over later in the massage and give me a full view of his manhood. But for now, maybe I could concentrate and get into the rhythm of the thing, remember that he was just another client.
“So, you're here in Hawaii on vacation, then?” I asked quietly, beginning to work my way up his body, feeling for the points that would need special attention. I paused when I reached his lower back, and it cracked in four places before I'd even really started adding pressure. “God, you're tight.”
“Aren't I supposed to be saying that?” he asked. But his voice sounded fuzzy and a bit blissed-out already. “Yeah, I'm just here on vacation. I live in New York. The city, not the state.”
“Oh. Nice. What do you do there?”
He let out a tight sigh. I wondered if maybe he was one of those people who didn't like to talk while having a massage. But then, he gave a little shrug of his shoulders. “I'm in real estate.”