by Claire Adams
“Or she thinks you don't know how to take care of yourself, maybe,” Christian said, smirking up at me.
I laughed. “That could be, too,” I agreed. “I probably have a better grasp on that than she does, though, if I'm being honest. She's a brilliant woman and very creative, but she's a bit flighty, I guess.”
“I work in the same office as my best friend,” Christian told me. “His name's Paul. He's a great guy. No matter what I do, he's there for me.”
“Well, yeah,” I said. “That's what friendship is, right?”
“I guess so,” Christian said, sounding as though he was considering it.
“Mina and I would do anything for one another,” I told him. “And I tell her everything, and she tells me everything as well. I probably know her better than I know myself. She's like a sister. The sister I would have chosen.”
Christian smiled a little. “Do you have any siblings?”
“Oh no,” I said. “I'm an only child. My parents decided I was too headstrong when I was a toddler, and they knew they were already going to be chasing me around for my whole life. They decided that one was enough.”
Christian laughed. “Are they still chasing you around?”
“I've settled down more now. But I'm close enough that they could pop by at any time if they wanted to. And I go over there for dinner a lot.”
“That's nice.” Christian sounded like he was drifting off again already, but whether he was falling asleep or falling into his thoughts, I couldn't tell.
“What about you, do you have any siblings?” I asked, wanting to prolong the conversation.
“I did,” Christian told me. “Next subject?”
I cast around for another conversation topic, but his unwillingness to talk about his family had me wanting to know more. “What are you going to get up to this afternoon?” I asked.
Christian came back into the conversation at that, and I realized he had just been caught up in his thoughts. There was something there, I guessed, and I wondered what it was. But I wasn't going to ask.
“So, have you always wanted to be a masseuse?” Christian asked as I worked my way up his arm.
I shook my head. “Not exactly,” I said. “I wasn't sure what I wanted to be, growing up. I just knew that I wanted to live here in Hawaii forever. I thought about being a yoga teacher for a while too, but I didn't like the idea of working for someone else's studio, and it's hard to get your own clients if you just strike out on your own. Mina's the one who pointed me toward being a masseuse. I don't know how she came up with the idea, but I liked it immediately, went to school for it, and here I am.”
“You must have a background in business as well, to run your own.”
“No,” I said. “I know the basics. I took a night course for entrepreneurs. But I don't know all that much.” I laughed a little self-consciously. “Whatever I'm doing, though, it seems to be working.”
I let my fingers linger on Christian's skin for a moment, reluctant to pull away again. “I'm afraid that's all we have time for again,” I told him.
“That went fast today,” he said, sitting up and rolling out his shoulders.
“It did,” I agreed. “I like talking to you.” I blushed after I said it, hardly believing that those words had come out of my mouth. Not that they weren't true, but he would probably take that as an invitation to–
“So maybe we should talk some more over dinner on Saturday night,” Christian suggested.
–ask me out.
I sighed and began tidying the room. “I don't date clients,” I told him. If only it were that simple.
“Well then, I'll never come back for another massage,” Christian told me, a devilish grin on his face.
I frowned. “I also don't date people who don't live here,” I told him.
“Do you ever even date?” Christian asked, and I gaped at him.
“You can't just-”
“I'll take that as a no,” he interrupted. “Come on. It'll be fun. I'm just asking because I'd like to have some company for dinner. I'm not just trying to have sex with you or anything like that.”
“Not to be mean, but I don't believe you.” I sighed.
Christian frowned and pulled on his shorts. “Look, I may not be the best guy that you've ever met, but you must realize that I would never do anything that you didn't want me to do to you.”
“I know.” I sighed again. “But…”
“You're afraid you're going to want me to have sex with you?” Christian asked, raising an eyebrow at me. “And that's a bad thing?”
When he put it that way, it did sound a little ridiculous.
“I don't do one-night stands,” I told him.
“Then we'll make it a two-night stand,” he said. “Or a three-night stand. Or-”
“All right, all right,” I said, holding up both hands in surrender. “I'll go. Leave me a message here and tell me when and where.”
“Good,” Christian said smugly. Then, he turned and sauntered out the door.
He had only been gone for a couple of moments when Mina burst in. She must have been lurking by the windows, watching to see him leave. “Do you realize who that is?” she exclaimed in a hushed tone, as though he might overhear us.
I shrugged a little and went to check the messages on my phone.
“That's Christian Wall!” she exclaimed.
“Yeah, I know,” I said, not sure what the big deal was. “You realize I take their full names down when I book the appointments, don't you?”
“Jesus, you live under a rock, don't you?” she asked, rolling her eyes. She thrust her phone toward me, open to a news story about him.
“Holy shit,” I said, grabbing the phone from her. “You don't think it's him, do you?”
“I told you a millionaire was going to walk through those doors one day,” Mina said. “Only he's a billionaire. You got his number, right?”
I paused and stared down at the phone for a long moment, hardly able to believe any of this. “Actually,” I said, looking seriously up at Mina. “I've got one better than that. He's picking me up here for a date on Saturday. He's taking me to dinner.”
Chapter Eleven
Christian
When it came down to it, I didn't date that many girls. There wasn't a reason to; after all, most girls practically threw themselves at me. The closest I came to dating anyone was meeting someone at a bar and buying a couple of paltry drinks for her. We all knew where the night was going to end, though; that was never a question.
For some reason, things felt different with Gretchen.
I called up Mark a few hours before the date. “I need to get a suit tailored,” I told him.
“Oh,” Mark said, sounding a bit flustered. “I know a good place that I can take you to.”
“Good,” I said. “Meet me here in twenty minutes.”
When Mark pulled up in front of my hotel, I was already impatiently waiting outside, even though he got there a few minutes early. “What do you need a suit for anyway, man?” Mark asked as we drove.
I shrugged. “I'm going on that date tonight; remember, I told you about it?” Actually, I'd asked him for recommendations about where to take Gretchen to. He'd been a bit taken aback by that, especially when I'd shot down his first recommendations, which were for a couple cheaper, less formal places.
I supposed it didn't fit with his image of me for me to take a girl to a nice restaurant. All the media ever focused on were the clubs that I walked out of and things like that. It wasn't like I didn't have the money to splash out if I wanted to, though. And anyway, I wasn't always such a player. And I had a feeling Gretchen might appreciate going someplace nicer.
“And, what, you didn't bring anything nice with you?” Mark asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically.
I shrugged. “I did.” God, I would sound like such a girl if I admitted that none of it seemed quite right. I was going to look sexy no matter what I wore. But I didn't want to wear a charcoal gray suit
next to Gretchen, as tan as she was. It just wouldn't look right. Blue, on the other hand, might.
I searched through the racks at the shop that Mark brought me to, fingering the material, pleased to find that it fit my standards pretty well. Of course, the material was all a lot thinner than what I'd find back home, but that only made sense given the heat in Hawaii. I didn't want to wear something thick and coarse in 80-degree heat; that would be crazy. It got a little cooler at night, but not that much cooler.
“This is the one,” I said, pulling a navy-colored suit off the rack. “Just need to get it fitted.” I glanced over at Mark. “You might as well pick something out too,” I told him. “My treat. You've been great while I've been here, above and beyond what I would expect from a cab driver.”
Mark raised an eyebrow at me. “Who are you dating tonight: Gretchen or me?” he asked teasingly.
I rolled my eyes. “I don't go that way,” I told him.
I stood still as the seamstress measured me and made some sketches in chalk on the suit. I frowned when I saw Mark was looking at plain black suits, though. “Come on,” I told him. “Unless you have a fucking funeral coming up, when are you ever going to wear a black suit?”
Mark looked over at me, seemingly startled. Poor kid didn't know anything about fashion. I couldn't help rolling my eyes again. “No one wears black suits anymore, man,” I told him. “Grey, or blue, or you're a surfer, you could probably pull off coral jacket even if you wanted to. Just don't go with black, of all things.”
Mark laughed a little, shaking his head ruefully. Then, he bowed ironically. “I defer to your judgment,” he said. Then, he frowned. “But coral pink, man? Seriously?”
I shrugged, much to the dismay of the seamstress. “I mean, probably.”
“What about tan?” Mark asked.
“Boring,” I said, not even having to think about it.
“You don't know the women around here, though,” Mark said.
“And what, you do?” I asked, scoffing a little. It was a tease, but I could see from the expression on Mark's face that he didn't appreciate it.
“Rude, man,” he said.
“Sorry,” I said, only partly sincere. “But seriously, what do I need to know about the women here? Women are women no matter where you are, right?”
“Oh no,” Mark said, shaking his head. “Your New York women are impatient. The New York women who come down here book up their days with massages and beach appointments and they drink all day. It's just not anywhere near the same. Our women here, they're sweet. They're soft.” He paused. “I don't want to tell you this because you're Christian Wall, of course, but know that Gretchen isn’t going to fall into bed with you tonight. That just will not happen.”
I frowned over at him. “Yeah?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Mark said, sounding a bit more confident as he saw that I was listening to him. “You can take her to a nice place and everything, and girls like that, they respond well to money. You're going to have no problem impressing her and whatever. But don't expect that to automatically get her into your bed.”
“So, how do you get a sexy Hawaiian girl into your bed?” I asked, even though honestly, I didn't think I needed his advice on the matter.
Mark shrugged, though, looking glad that I'd asked for his opinion. “The thing to remember is that no matter how hot you think Gretchen is, she's just another woman at heart,” he said. “Sure, she's just like other women here, she's independent, and she'll want you to remember that. And she's probably got a stubborn streak. But at the end of the day, the thing to remember is that she isn't so different from other women.”
I laughed. “You sound cynical, Mark,” I observed.
He shrugged eloquently. “I am cynical,” he said, giving me a knowing look.
“The girl you like still isn't putting out for you?” I surmised. I could tell from his grimace that she wasn't. “Come on, get a suit,” I urged. “You can take her out someplace nice at some point, and I'm sure she'll be all over you after that. We all know women love a sharp-dressed man.”
Mark laughed. “I could never afford to take her someplace nice like that,” he said.
I snorted. “Are you asking for a raise?”
“Maybe,” Mark said cheekily, winking at me.
I rolled my eyes but made a mental note of it. It wasn't like I couldn't afford to give him a little extra money, and he was a good driver.
When I got to the restaurant that night, Gretchen was already there and seated. I grinned a little, remembering what Mark had said about her being independent and probably stubborn. I'd probably expect most girls to still be hovering by the door, waiting for me to show up. But not this one.
And I kind of liked that.
I slid into the seat across from her, grinning. “You're looking lovely this evening,” I told her, even though I'd only given her dress a cursory glance.
It was enough to get her blushing, though, and shyly ducking her head. “Thanks,” she said, her eyes lingering on my suit. “You look pretty handsome, yourself.”
I grinned. “Yeah, I figured I'd get a new suit for the occasion. Tailored just this afternoon. Cost a little bit of extra money to get the thing done on such short notice, but I figured you were probably worth it.”
Gretchen grimaced a little. “Honestly, I don't know what to say in response to that.”
I shrugged a little and flipped open the menu. “Have you ever been here before?” I asked. “My driver recommended it.”
“I usually go out to places that are a bit more relaxed than this,” Gretchen said, looking around. She gave a little nervous laugh. “Don't get me wrong, it's kind of thrilling to be here and all dressed up and everything, but this is just…wow.”
Good, she's impressed with it.
I wasn't sure why that mattered so much.
“Pick anything you want,” I said, waving toward her menu. “Don't worry. I'm paying.”
“Um, thanks,” Gretchen said, biting her lower lip as she looked through the menu. “Gosh, this place is fancy. I don't even know what half the things on the menu are!”
I snorted. “Yeah, there is a lot of French on here,” I agreed. “Which seems kind of silly since we're in Hawaii, but I guess maybe that's the kind of crowd they're trying to draw in.”
The waiter came over, and we placed our orders. I frowned when Gretchen ordered a simple seafood pasta, one of the cheapest dishes on the menu. “I told you, I'm paying,” I reminded her. “You can get something fancier than that.”
Gretchen gave me a look. “I don't want something fancier than that,” she said.
I rolled my eyes. “The one time in your life that you get to go to a fancy place like this, you're going to stick to some plain-Jane pasta dish? You could go for a good steak, or-”
Gretchen stood up, frowning down at me. “Look, I thought you seemed nice when I met you before, but you were kind of a pompous ass. And if that's how you're going to be, then honestly, I don't think I should be here.”
She turned and stalked out of the restaurant, her floral dress fluttering after her. I could only stare after her for a moment, totally flummoxed, and then I got up as well, running after her.
“Wait,” I said, catching at her arm. It was a strange sort of role-reversal from what I was used to. Usually, the girl was running after me, rather than this. I should feel embarrassed. Instead, I just felt uncertain about what had happened.
Gretchen turned toward me, her hands on her hips. “I'm sure you can find ten different women in that restaurant who will be impressed by your money and connections and whatever else,” she said.
I frowned at her. “Yeah,” I agreed. “But there's a reason I asked you on a date.”
Gretchen snorted. “I'm sure there are at least five women in that restaurant who will be impressed with your money and who will also come home with you at the end of the night,” she said. “I appreciate that you're just trying to get laid, but-”
“That's
not it,” I interrupted. I frowned deeper and shook my head. “Gretchen, you know I normally don't ask women out on dates.”
“So, what, I should feel special?” she asked, disbelief clear in her voice.
“That's not what I'm saying,” I told her impatiently.
“So, what are you trying to say?” Gretchen challenged.
I took a deep breath and then plunged into it. “You know this island better than me, right? You take me out someplace. I'll still pay, of course. But let's go someplace and get some decent food and just enjoy one another's company.”
Gretchen gave me a doubtful look and then shrugged, laughing a little. “Okay,” she said. “Come on. But your suit is going to look weird at this place.”
I snorted. “Better to be overdressed than underdressed,” I told her. “Plus, it'll just be like prom, round two.”
“I'm not going home with you at the end of the night,” Gretchen warned me, then clapped a hand over her mouth, looking mortified at the words that had just come out of it.
“Okay,” I said easily. “You seem more like a three-date girl anyway.” I winked over at her.
“Five dates,” she managed. “You take me out for five dates, and I'll go home with you.” She looked embarrassed to have said that as well, and I couldn't help laughing.
“I'm going to hold you to that,” I teased. I linked hands with her and let her lead me down the street to a little hole-in-the-wall burger place that she knew. Eating a burger while dressed in a nice, new suit wasn't my idea of a good time.
But it was hers, so I was all in.
Chapter Twelve
Gretchen
I might have expected that Mina would be there on Monday morning, wanting every detail from the date. I rolled my eyes affectionately at her. “You're obsessed,” I said.
“He's the hottest young bachelor in the country,” Mina said. “According to, like, five different magazines. And his money. I can only imagine what it must be like to date him.”