I had told Keanu about the rumors, of course, but to his credit, he acted casual as he shook the man's hand.
"It's very nice to meet you, Mr. Livingston."
"Call me Howie," he said. "Your girlfriend is very charming."
Keanu smiled. "That she is."
I adjusted my purse over my shoulder. "Thanks for everything, Jeff. Bye, Gary. It was very nice meeting you, Mr. Livingston—er, Howie."
Howie gave a slight bow. "The pleasure is all mine, Carrie."
He had even remembered my name. Excitement flooded through me, and then I forced myself to do a reality check. Howie was a friend of Jeff's, and he was only here to see the show as a favor. Still, it was a thrill to meet a real Hollywood director. Maybe he'd even give me some pointers.
Keanu held the door open for me, and we strolled toward his car, hand in hand, with the brilliant Hawaiian sun beating down on us. It was another beautiful day in paradise, and thoughts of Jeff, the show, and even Howie faded from my brain as I gave my full attention to the handsome man beside me. Keanu pushed me gently up against the side of the car and devoured my mouth while I responded ardently. I stared into those crystal blue eyes the same color as the ocean and had never been so happy or complete in my life.
Keanu dropped his hands to my waist, drawing me closer, and continued with the kiss. His mouth was hotter than the inside of a volcano, and I was positive I might erupt at any second. He was like a drug of choice for me lately, an addiction that I couldn't get enough of.
After we broke apart, breathless, Keanu opened the passenger-side door of his Jeep for me. When he was seated, he reached for my hand and brushed his lips against it. Some days I still couldn't believe my good fortune.
Keanu winked at me as he started the engine. "Those big brown eyes look pretty serious today. What are you thinking about, sweetheart?"
He deserved to know the truth. "Oh, I was wondering how I'd ever gotten so lucky."
Keanu flashed that adorable dimple of his. "That's funny. I was just thinking the same thing myself."
CHAPTER TWO
After getting off to a bit of a rocky start in Hawaii, I marveled at how things had finally come together for me. Besides Keanu, I had my own little apartment, a cat I adored, and was self-sufficient. The bonus was that I even liked my job—well, most days, that was.
Soon after arriving in Kauai, I had discovered that Brad had been cheating on me and dumped him faster than a cold cup of coffee. On my second day of employment at the Loco Moco, Hale had been murdered. With all the employees under suspicion, I had taken it upon myself to find Hale's killer and would have lost my own life if it hadn't been for Keanu.
I watched him now with admiration. Dark sunglasses covered his luminous eyes, which I never got tired of looking at. His strong, defined jaw gave off the authoritative air of a man who knew what he wanted out of life. He drew his thin lips together into a smile then focused his attention back on the road. His silky black hair was slightly disheveled due to the top being down and made him look even sexier than usual.
I'd worn my long, dark brown hair in a single braid and wasn't too concerned about its appearance right now. It felt wonderful to have the gentle, warm breeze blowing around my face while the nearby scent of eucalyptus invaded my nostrils. Keanu liked my hair loose and around my shoulders, but when serving food, it wasn't practical or sanitary.
We didn't have time to stop for lunch, so we grabbed bagels and drinks on the way and ate them in the car. Keanu had been at the café for most of the morning and would remain there until closing with me. Lately he worked more hours than the rest of us did.
"Ready for a fun-filled day? One of the dishwashers is on the blink, Poncho's been complaining about the poor quality of pineapples, and Mom and Dad are supposed to be stopping by this afternoon to have a chat with me. Maybe I'll get fired," he quipped.
I flinched inwardly at the words "Mom and Dad." Keanu didn't have to worry about getting fired, of course, but if it hadn't been for him, I might have found myself on the chopping block long ago. Keanu's parents had bought the café from Hale's widow a few months before, and even though I'd met them several times, we didn't have much of a personal relationship to speak of.
In addition to the restaurant, Mr. and Mrs. Church owned a chain of supermarkets in the Pacific Southwest. Keanu had mentioned that there were problems with some of the stores, specifically ones situated in Phoenix and Tucson, which explained why his parents had made quite a few trips between Arizona and Hawaii as of late. We had been scheduled to have dinner with them last week for the first time, but they'd had to cancel at the last minute. Keanu had assured me it was a business issue and nothing to do with me. I believed him but still had that insecure feeling they didn't like me—especially Keanu's father, Terry.
"Lead the way, my knight in shining armor," I teased as we entered the café from the patio entrance. There was also an entrance from the kitchen and one off the lobby of the Aloha Lagoon Resort, which we hardly ever used.
The wicker tables on the outdoor patio were covered by large, raised bamboo umbrellas to shelter patrons in case of rain. They were filled to capacity. Vivian Banks, my good friend and fellow server, was running between tables, delivering drinks and taking orders. She caught sight of us and raised her hand in a quick greeting while her amber eyes signaled an unspoken plea for help.
"I need to rescue Viv," I said as Keanu opened the door to the café for me. The inside was almost as busy as the patio. I noticed Keanu surveying the place and knew how proud he was of the restaurant, which in turn made me happy for him. He'd worked hard these past few months as the new manager, and it showed. Keanu enjoyed the job and customers, although it must have been a bit overwhelming for him at times, especially with his father constantly breathing down his neck.
The Loco Moco was pristine, with gray tiled flooring and granite countertops, oak tables and chairs, and the long counter with individual padded seats that ran in front of the coffeepot machine, register, and the double doors with portholes that led to an even more impeccable kitchen, where we were headed now.
Poncho Suarez was in front of the massive ten-burner stove, preparing a batch of his famous pineapple salsa. In addition to the treat, there were several other pots and pans with flames going underneath them. Chefs were such wonderful multitaskers.
Poncho was married with two young sons and in some ways like a father figure to me as well. We'd had several heart-to-heart talks since I had first come to the island. Poncho's life had not always been easy, and he'd managed to overcome a lot of obstacles. In some ways, we were kindred spirits.
With a balding head, slim moustache, and a stomach that protruded underneath his white double-breasted chef's jacket like a small basketball, he didn't represent the most intimidating of figures. However, when things didn't go as planned in the kitchen, his temper steamed like kalua pork in an imu, which I had recently learned was an underground oven.
Poncho's voice escalated as he talked to the young waitress standing by his side. Coral Palu had only been with us for a few weeks. She nodded intently at whatever he had said to her, but as soon as she spotted Keanu, her eyes became glued on him, much to my annoyance.
"You go ahead and get ready," Keanu told me in a low voice. "I need to see what's going on here."
I hesitated before going into the small employee room adjacent to the kitchen. There were lockers for employees to keep their personal items, with cubbies above them that held aprons and Loco Moco T-shirts. A staircase against the wall led to an office upstairs, where Keanu spent most of the day. If we were swamped, he always came out to help.
After I tied an apron on, I returned to the kitchen, where Keanu was talking quietly to Coral. Her expression was mournful as she nodded in response.
"You need to be more careful," Keanu cautioned. "Every day this week you've dropped a plate. Just take your time. If you need to make two trips to the table, that's perfectly okay."
Coral batted
her long eyelashes at him. "So I'm not fired?"
Okay, this sounded awful, but I kind of hoped that she would be. It was no secret that this girl had been ogling my boyfriend since the day she'd started. She knew we were together—we had made no secret about that. Besides, the Loco Moco had a gossip mill the size of the ocean. To be honest, I wasn't fond of the girl. Coral couldn't manage two words to me without sounding sarcastic.
Poncho, who was standing near them, didn't wait for Keanu's response as he thrust a plate into Coral's hands. "This order is for table number 5."
"Got it," she said.
Poncho stirred salsa in one pan and pork rice in another while he gestured toward another plate. "This hamburger is also for table number 5."
Coral reached in front of him to grab it. She was taller than my five-foot-four-inch status, with a figure that might have been a size two at best. Coral was Polynesian and had sleek black hair that hung down her back, like a shining halo. It was about as long as mine, although my dark brown hair had a bit more wave to it. She wore hers in a braid too. Coral had slightly slanted dark eyes that gave her an exotic look and skin so pale that it was almost transparent.
Although tiny-waisted, Coral was well endowed in the chest and wore the skimpiest outfits she could get away with. Even though she'd been here less than a month, Keanu had already spoken to her on at least three different occasions about her wardrobe. As she leaned down in front of Poncho, her girls practically popped out of the tight low-cut T-shirt she was wearing.
Poncho's eyes widened as he stared at her assets and then turned his beet red face at Keanu. "I just remembered that we're out of mangos. Make sure you order some more."
Keanu frowned slightly as the girl gave him a superior grin and then started toward the double doors, both plates in hand.
"Coral."
She turned around and gave him a megawatt smile. "Yes, sir?"
He cleared his throat. "You're not wearing a Loco Moco T-shirt. When you have a free moment, go to the ladies' room and change into one."
She noticed me watching from across the room and narrowed her eyes. "Sure thing, Boss."
Keanu walked into the employees' room and motioned for me to follow. He ran a hand through his hair, an indication he was agitated.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
He blew out a sigh. "We got a complaint about Coral's service yesterday. The customer said she was very snippy with them. Have you noticed her doing that before?"
Only with me. I hesitated before answering. I didn't want to come across like I had anything against the girl. "Maybe."
He raised an eyebrow. "Maybe?"
"It's probably best that I don't get involved."
Keanu put his hands on my waist and drew me closer. "You know I value your opinion."
I placed my arms around his neck. "Bummer. I was hoping there were other things you valued as well."
His eyes twinkled. "Well, I do confess to being fond of your physical attributes as well."
"Any in particular?" I teased.
"I'll make you a list," Keanu whispered as he covered my mouth with his. I sighed in contentment and reached my hands up to run them through his luxurious soft hair.
Someone cleared their throat, and we broke apart. I giggled, assuming it was probably Poncho ready with some smart-mouth retort and turned, ready to face him. Instead I found myself staring into the eyes of Keanu's parents. They stood there motionless, watching us in uncomfortable silence.
Keanu didn't miss a beat. He refused to let go of me although I desperately tried to wriggle out of his grasp. "Hey, Mom. Dad. What's up?"
Terry Church's dark eyes shifted from me to his son in obvious disbelief. On the few occasions we had spoken, the man was always short with me. He was attractive for an older man with sandy blond hair, a well-defined chin, and wiry-looking frame. Keanu had assured me that his father wasn't much of a conversationalist, but I didn't buy it. Whenever we crossed paths, he tried to avoid me.
"Keanu, we need to discuss a few things," Ava Church said hurriedly, as if she sensed disaster was about to strike. My boyfriend got his looks from his mother, especially the ocean blue eyes. His personality was more similar to hers too. Ava always acted polite to me, and we'd chatted a few times about our mutual love of theater. She was also very sociable with Vivian and the rest of the staff. Everyone seemed to like the woman, but she had never mentioned my relationship with her son though.
My cheeks burned, and I stared at Keanu uneasily. He winked in reassurance and kissed my hand. "I'll catch you in a little bit."
I hurried out of the back room, positive I could feel Terry's intense hazel eyes burning through my skin. I had no doubt that Keanu was going to get a tongue lashing from his parents about making out with the hired help in the back room. Ava and Terry were probably convinced that we went upstairs to fool around when they weren't here. I shuddered at the thought. I wanted his parents to like me, and this little escapade certainly hadn't helped.
As I started toward the main room of the café, Vivian came bursting through the double doors and almost ran right into me. She grabbed my arm and led me over to the stove, where Poncho was busy preparing sandwich wraps.
"Ohmigod!" Vivian's eyes were huge in her oval shaped face. "You'll never guess who's out there."
Still upset about the encounter with Keanu's parents, I wasn't sure that I cared. "Who?"
"Randolph Cremshaw."
It took a moment for the name to register with me, and then Poncho and I both gaped simultaneously. "The world-renowned food critic?" I asked.
Vivian seemed impressed. "Dang, girl, you've been doing your homework."
I shrugged. "Not really. I just happened to—"
Poncho cut in. "Where is he? Out on the patio?"
Vivian shook her head. "He just sat down at a table in Carrie's station. I recognized him immediately from a recent article in Star Magazine."
Great. This was all I needed today. I blew out a long, steady breath. "Well, I guess I'd better go see what he'd like to eat."
Poncho was already peering through the porthole in the door that led to the café. He must have spotted Randolph because he snickered. "Looks like the man does not spend enough time in the sun."
"He used to live in Hawaii," Vivian volunteered. "He comes back several times a year to visit. And he always stays at the Aloha Lagoon when he comes to Kauai."
"Did he ever review the Loco Moco before?" I asked.
"I don't know," Vivian said.
Poncho did a palms-up and went back to the stove. "Not while I have been here. I doubt he is here to review, ho'aloha. Food critics like him specialize in restaurants that have fine dining, such as Starlight on the Lagoon." He pointed at the door with his spatula. "Nevertheless, do not keep the man waiting. And do not let on that you know who he is."
"Why?" I asked, confused.
He shook his head in fury. "No more questions. Go!"
Yikes. My fingers shook as I pushed my way through the doors. Don't screw this up, Care. Sure, he was only here to eat, but maybe he'd give the place a plug on social media if it met with his satisfaction.
I handed Randolph a menu and placed silverware on the table in front of him. "Welcome to the Loco Moco Café. What can I get you to drink?"
He looked up from the iPhone he was busy typing a message into—was he already taking notes on the place?—and gave me a quick once-over. "Coffee and water. I'm in a hurry and already know what I want. Bring me your signature dish, plus an order of home fries and toast."
I nodded and scribbled away on my pad. "So I guess by 'signature dish' you mean the Loco Moco?"
"Very perceptive, aren't you?"
His voice was thick with sarcasm, and for the second time in five minutes, my cheeks were on fire. Cripes, this man was rude. When he picked up his phone again, I took a moment to study him. Even though he was sitting, I could tell from the long gangly legs that he was tall, over six feet and about thirty pounds overweight. I
surmised it came with the job.
The buttons on the Hawaiian shirt Randolph sported were stretched tight across the material and threatened to pop open at any second. He wore glasses with thick lenses and had a head of rusted colored brown hair with a receding scalp. Randolph's dark beady eyes reminded me of a rodent's, and he had a thick nose with wide nostrils above slightly crooked front teeth. His complexion was so pale that he seemed more suited for Alaska's climate than Hawaii's. A well-worn straw hat was placed on the chair next to his, as if echoing my thoughts.
Randolph looked up suddenly and frowned when he spotted me watching him. "Um, could I have my meal today?"
"Yes, sir." I hesitated because hash browns were considered a breakfast item, and technically we stopped serving the meal at eleven. It was after two in the afternoon, so I'd have to check with Poncho to see what he wanted to do. I tried to squelch my nerves as I returned to the kitchen.
Poncho was cool as a cucumber while he assembled Randolph's order. If he'd been serving the President of the United States, I doubted his mannerism would have changed. That was part of what made him such a successful chef—nerves of steel. Poncho ran a tight ship in the kitchen and was a bit OCD about certain things, like employees messing around in his fridge. We all tried to accommodate him by staying out of his way unless he asked for our help.
As I grabbed a glass of water for Randolph, I was distinctly aware of the mumble of voices coming from overhead. I was dying to know what Keanu and his parents were talking about and prayed that the topic of their discussion was not me.
Once I returned to the café, I poured a cup of coffee for Randolph from the machine behind the counter then placed both beverages in front of him. "Would you like creamer? Your meal should be out shortly."
Randolph looked up from the iPhone again, and I noticed he was typing something into the notes section application. He saw my eyes wander toward it and placed his hand protectively over the screen. Ignoring my earlier comment, he sniffed at the coffee cup and took a small sip. He immediately made a face and then placed the cup back down on the saucer. "What is this garbage?"
Aloha Lagoon Mysteries Boxed Set Volume III (Books 7-9) Page 41