by Claire Adams
I groaned. “Don't remind me about his money,” I told her. “That's all he wanted to talk about for the first, like, half an hour.”
“Oh, yikes,” Mina said. “So, it didn't go well, then?”
I sighed. “It kind of did,” I admitted. “It was almost as though we had two different dates, rolled into one night.” Mina looked confused; I shrugged. “He took me out to the Bay Resort restaurant to start with,” I told her. “We both dressed up nice, and yeah, he just was kind of an asshole about his money and everything else. He acted as though it was a given that I was going to go home with him at the end of the night.”
“He is Christian Wall,” Mina pointed out. Then, she winced. “Sorry. I know you're my best friend, and I should be on your side, just.”
I laughed a little. “Yeah, he's pretty attractive,” I agreed. “I walked off from the first part of the date before we'd even ordered our food or anything. Actually, it was as we were ordering our food. But he was just being such an ass about everything that I didn't want to be there anymore. That's when we started the second date. I took him to that little burger place up the street from Bay Resort, Kathy's place, and even though I could tell that eating a burger while wearing a fancy suit wasn't his thing. He just went along with it.”
Mina shook her head. “You had Christian Wall on a date, and you just went for burgers?” she asked, sounding incredulous. “You at least got a little dessert, right?”
I laughed again. “Mina, you know I'm not that kind of girl,” I chided. I blushed a little. “I told him that he had to take me on five dates before I'd sleep with him.”
“So, are we counting last night as one date or two?” Mina asked, grinning slyly at me.
I rolled my eyes. “One,” I said. I paused, biting my lower lip. “The thing is, I know he's going to be headed back to New York soon enough, and I don't want to get tied up with him, knowing that.”
Mina groaned. “Gretchen!” She sounded positively scandalized. “You do realize that it's okay to just have fun with somebody, don't you? I mean, have fun and get your needs met! It doesn't all have to be about settling down and having kids and having a future or whatever else.”
I sighed. “Yeah, I know,” I said. “But all the same.”
“You like him,” Mina said, realization lighting her eyes. “Oh, wow. You like him.”
“No!” I said, a bit too quickly.
“You do,” Mina said, looking gleeful. “You're afraid to sleep with him because you're afraid that you're going to start feeling attached to him, and you're not sure how to deal with that.”
I scowled. For all that I might wish that things were otherwise, I had to admit that she was right. I didn't like the side of him that I'd seen first, on Saturday night. I didn't need to hear him bragging about his money trying so damn hard to impress me. None of that mattered to me.
But the guy who had come into my massage parlor twice now, the guy who had started to unfurl once we were over at Kathy's hole-in-the-wall burger place. Yeah, I liked him. He was cute and sexy and funny and all the things that I wanted in a guy. And that was exactly why I couldn't sleep with him.
Especially since he still wouldn't tell me how long he was going to be in Hawaii for.
Before I could respond to Mina, though, my first appointment of the day came in. “Mrs. Harris, it's good to see you again!” I said, as enthusiastically as I could, moving around to give her a little hug. She was one of my regulars, once just a woman on her honeymoon, but she'd been living there for six years now, and I'd been with her every step of the way.
“Good morning, Gretchen,” she said warmly. “And good morning to you too, Mina. How are you?”
“Wonderful,” Mina said, smiling at the woman. I could see in her eyes that this wasn't over, that we were going to return to the conversation about Christian again, but for now, I was grateful for the reprieve. “I'd better get back to the pineapple shop, though,” she said.
“I hear that things have been busy there lately!” Mrs. Harris said.
“Yeah, they've been a bit nuts,” Mina said, running a hand back through her hair. “It's all Gretchen's fault, of course; she keeps insisting to people that there's no better detox than a massage and a pineapple shake!”
“And she's right with that!” Mrs. Harris said, her blue eyes twinkling.
I handed her the massage robe and showed her back into the second, larger massage room, leaving her alone for a moment to get situated.
“I hope I wasn't interrupting something,” she said as I came into the room. “It looked like the two of you were altogether too serious, for once!”
I laughed a little, wondering how much I should tell her. “We were just talking about what we'd done last weekend,” I finally settled on. “Nothing serious, no.”
“Hmm,” Mrs. Harris said, humming contentedly as I began to massage the tension out of her. I already knew exactly where I was going to need to focus the massage, no matter how often I told her that she was going to get a hunched back from swinging her grandchildren up into her arms so frequently, she was still going to keep doing that, probably for the rest of her life.
“So, what did you do last weekend, then?” she asked.
“What did you do last weekend?” I countered.
Mrs. Harris laughed. “The usual,” she said. “I took Emmy and Lenore out to the beach on Saturday, and we made a day of it, with a picnic and everything. Then on Sunday, Josh and I went golfing.”
I smiled a little. “Always the same,” I teased.
“Always,” she agreed. “But it's good that way. If you have a good day, there's no reason not to keep repeating it, that's what I figure.”
“That's a good way to live,” I said.
“What did you do this weekend?”
I frowned, trying to figure out how to answer. Before I could, the surprise of the century, Christian himself, poked his head into the room. “Sorry to interrupt,” he said, not sounding sorry at all.
Mrs. Harris' gaze was around to him in a flash. “Christian Wall?” she asked, sounding shocked.
Christian rubbed the back of his neck. “That's me,” he agreed, sounding sheepish.
“Oh, just wait until the girls at the club hear about this,” she said, shaking her head.
I grimaced. “I'm with a customer,” I told Christian coolly.
“Oh, don't mind me,” Mrs. Harris said. She grinned a little. “Actually, you're my one celebrity free pass. I told my husband that after reading that piece in Voyeur about your charity work. I can't believe all the things that you do to help those disabled children.”
If I wasn't mistaken, that was a hint of a blush on Christian's face. But he grinned, leaning his hip against the doorjamb. “I bet I'm sexier than your husband's celebrity free pass.”
“Oh, definitely,” Mrs. Harris agreed. She looked back at me over her shoulder. “You know Christian Wall? Is that what you did this weekend?”
It was my turn to blush. I didn't miss the innuendo in her words. “It's not like that,” I protested. “I know him. Mr. Wall has been in here a few times for a massage. But-”
“If you need to talk to him, don't let me stand in the way,” Mrs. Harris said.
“I did just want to borrow Gretchen for a couple of moments,” Christian said, playing up the charm factor. He winked at Mrs. Harris. “I'd be more than happy to have a portrait, or maybe a poster, sent over to your house for the inconvenience.”
“There's no inconvenience at all,” Mrs. Harris said, the traitor. She was practically shooing me out of the massage room.
I stalked out into the reception area, careful to close the door behind me. “What the hell was that?” I snapped. “You can't just show up at my work and-”
“You never gave me your phone number,” Christian interrupted. “I wasn't sure how else to contact you, except through the concierge desk at the resort, and that just seemed a little impersonal. And no one was going to buy that I needed another massage so s
oon.”
I snorted. “You were already pushing it, coming in two days in a row,” I agreed.
“I want to take you out again,” Christian told me. “On a proper date.” He frowned. “Okay, sure, the other night ended up being a pretty proper date, once I…” He rubbed the back of his neck again. Then, he laughed a little. “I'm not usually this nervous.”
I frowned, surprised by his raw honesty. “You're nervous?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at him.
Christian folded his arms across his chest. “I can't say that the last date was a resounding success,” he said. “I'd like to make that up to you if I could.”
I blinked, wondering if this was the same guy who was splashed across all those magazines that Mina loved to read. “How?” I asked.
The thing was, I didn't want to go on another date with him. Maybe it was bad, but I just didn't think that we had that much in common with one another. And the things that we did have in common, like the fact that we were here in Hawaii, weren't the kinds of things that I cared about when it came to a relationship.
“Come on,” Christian cajoled. “Look, I know I didn't give you the best impression of me the last time. But let me make that up to you. I talked to Mark, he's my driver here and a great guy, and he gave me some recommendations. We can go get barbecue down on the beach and watch the sunset, and I won't wear a suit or anything like that.” His eyes coasted over my curves. “You'd still look sexy in a dress, but just a casual beach dress, nothing fancy. I promise.”
I frowned. “There have to be other women on this island who would love to leap into bed with you,” I said. Mina, for one. For a moment, I debated sending him next door to see my best friend, who would probably love to do nothing more than take a tumble between the sheets with him. But for some reason, despite my uncertainty toward him, I felt a bit jealous of the thought of that.
Oh, brother.
“All right,” I said before he could respond to that. “Okay, you can take me out, just one more time though. If I walk away from this one, I'm not going to see you again.”
“That's fair,” Christian said. He smiled down at me. “I'll pick you up at 6 p.m. tomorrow, okay?”
I watched as he started to leave the shop, not even bothering to wait for my acceptance of that time. Just who did he think he was, anyway? But at the same time, I couldn't seem to argue with him. “See you tomorrow,” I said faintly. Then, I shook my head and went back to the massage room, where Mrs. Harris was patiently waiting.
“These walls are very thin, you know,” she said, smirking like the devil incarnate.
I didn't even know that it was possible to blush in all of the places that I was currently blushing, but there I was. “It's not going to lead to anything,” I said primly, resuming the massage where I'd left off.
“All the same,” Mrs. Harris said, settling back against my ministrations. “You might as well enjoy it, while you can. You know that he isn't going to be here forever, but that doesn't mean that you can't enjoy the time that you have. It's like that with a marriage too, you know.”
“That's basically what Mina said,” I admitted. “She told me to just have fun with it.”
“Wise words,” Mrs. Harris said. She laughed a little. “Don't get me wrong, I love my husband very much, but sometimes I wish that I'd had a bit more fun when I was younger, and I think he does too!”
I laughed a little at that, but even still, I couldn't help feeling a bit shaken by it all.
Chapter Thirteen
Christian
Mark laughed a little as he watched me fuss over which shirt to wear. “What are you, a girl?” he taunted.
I held the gray shirt up to myself, watching carefully in the mirror. Then, I held the blue shirt up to myself. “Not a woman,” I said, a bit distractedly. “But I like to look good.”
“Man, you are going to look good no matter which shirt you choose, and you know it,” Mark said, shaking his head. He paused and then offered, “The blue one is better.”
I grinned a little and then tugged it over my head, doing up the remaining buttons. “What are you, a girl?” I quipped.
Mark laughed again. “You think you're finally going to seal the deal tonight?” he asked. “Get some of that sexy Hawaiian ass?”
“I wish,” I groaned, already half-hard at just the thought of it. “She says we need to go on five dates before she'll sleep with me, and unfortunately, I kind of believe that she might stick to that.” I shook my head. “Fucking crazy.”
“Definitely crazy,” Mark agreed, shaking his head in sympathy. “But that's women for you, right? Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em.”
“Exactly.” I paused. “You think this barbecue place is the place to go?” I asked.
“Oh yeah,” Mark said. “And I asked Jonie, she's one of my good girlfriends, and Jonie said that she'd love to go there on a date, so I can't imagine a girl not liking it. Totally chill, but great food, and a bit romantic as well. You're going to have a great time.”
“Awesome,” I said, again, not sure why I cared so much to impress her. “One more favor.”
“Shoot,” Mark said.
I sighed, running a hand back through my hair, even though I had just styled it perfectly. Fortunately, the style was a bit messy, casual beach hair. “Look, after the whole thing about money and everything last time, I was just wondering if it would be okay for me to borrow the car tonight, rather than having you as my driver. I'd still pay you like you were driving me, just I wouldn't want Gretchen to know. And you could stay here while I was out on my date until I brought the car back. Hell, order room service, watch something on pay-per-view. This is a nice place, right?”
“Aw, man, you're smitten, aren't you?” Mark asked, a knowing look in his gaze. He glanced around. “Maybe I could have my girl over here, yeah?”
I laughed. “Yeah, sure, just do it on the balcony, or in the bathtub. I don't want you fucking in my bed.”
“Totally fair,” Mark said, looking pleased with my response. “Yeah, no, totally fine.” He dug into his pocket and came out with the keys, which he tossed over at me.
A little while later, I felt like I was learning to drive all over again. I shook my head. It had been a while since I'd driven myself anywhere. But it wasn't a totally unpleasant feeling; in fact, it was kind of nice to be there behind the wheel, with good music on the radio and a warm evening breeze in my face.
I had asked Gretchen her address, so this time, instead of the impersonal task of meeting her at the restaurant, I could meet her at her home. I smiled a little to myself as I looked at the cute little place. Then, I parked the car and got out. Sure, I could just honk the horn and wait for her, but something told me she would appreciate the extra effort of my walking up to the door to meet her. And maybe, just maybe, I'd get myself invited inside. She had said that we wouldn't have sex until the fifth date, but that didn't mean we weren't going to fool around at all, surely.
“Hey,” Gretchen said when she answered the door, sounding a bit breathless, and I wondered if she had run to answer the door. I hid my smile and pulled her into a hug.
“Hey,” I said against her hair.
Gretchen looked nervously around. “I'm not quite ready,” she admitted. “Or rather, one of my clients just emailed me regarding an appointment for tomorrow, and I meant to get back to them first. Do you want to come in? Would you mind waiting for a minute or two?”
“No problem,” I said, entering the house feeling smug.
Gretchen laughed. “I'd give you the tour, but you're standing in most of the place already,” she said, gesturing around the open-plan home. It was small, but it was obvious from the colorful cushions on the sofa to the driftwood hung on the wall that every piece had been carefully selected by her.
She waved a hand toward the kitchen. “So, that's the kitchen, and this is the living room. And the hall. There's a bathroom over there, and then upstairs is my bedroom and the guest room.” She laughed again
, sounding even more nervous. “It's not luxurious or anything, but, it’s mine.”
“It's home,” I said, looking around, smiling a little. I shook my head. “To be honest, I've been living in my place in New York for about six years now, and it still doesn't feel homey.” I grimaced. “Actually, it feels like it's all come out of a catalog.”
Gretchen grinned. “Yeah, I think a lot of bachelor pads end up that way,” she said. “We don't have that many bachelors here on the island, but-” She clapped a hand over her mouth, and I couldn't help laughing.
“You're adorable when you're flustered,” I told her.
She blushed brightly, looking even more flustered, and I wanted to say things like that again and again, just to keep her looking like this.
“My computer is upstairs,” she told me.
“Okay,” I said easily. “I'll wait down here.” I thought that was a good line. I didn't want her to feel like I was intruding. I'd make it to her bedroom. I knew, but there was no reason to rush things.
“Okay,” she said, looking relieved, and I knew that I had made the right decision. I mentally high-fived myself.
Dinner went well, and then we found ourselves back at her house.
Gretchen was laughing, taking off her heels even before we were halfway across the parking lot. “I have sand everywhere,” she confessed. “Pretty sure it's in my mouth, even.”
I smiled over at her. She'd had a few cocktails with dinner, and I could see the effect of them on her, in the way that she was giggling and easy. But I'd also had enough to drink that I was a bit tipsy. “Yeah, me too,” I told her, with regards to the sand. I grimaced. “Good thing I didn't wear a suit for this one.”
Gretchen giggled. “Yeah, that would have been a bit out of place,” she agreed. She shook her head. “Honestly, I didn't even know that place existed. Thanks for showing it to me. I'm sure my parents are going to love it, next time they're in town.”
“They don't live around here?” I asked curiously.
“Nah,” Gretchen said, shaking her head. “I'm born and raised here, but as soon as I went to college, my parents moved back to California. My mom missed her family, and both of my grandmothers still live there. So.”