But why would his brother play messenger? Had Sonia spoken to him about their encounter?
Without further ado, he opened the note and showed it to Nick. Nick’s glance fell over the crumpled piece of paper and, after scanning the contents, a grin split his face.
“Oh-oh-oh, brother, looks like you and the pretty producer—”
“Stop right there. First off, why the hell would you play messenger? What did she tell you?”
“Messenger? Tell me what?” The look of confusion was so real Key knew that, as talented a prankster as his brother was, he was telling the truth.
“You really don’t know about this?”
“’Fraid not, bro, I had nothing to do with this. Didn’t it come from Sonia?”
Key signed, refolding and placing the note back in his pocket. “Yeah, apparently. But according to Bane, he got it from the stable hand, who got it from one of the guys working the south field, who got it from—”
“From the milkman?” Nick laughed but sobered quickly at the scowl on his twin’s face. “That’s a hellafied mixed-up version of telephone, Key. But, I wasn’t involved in the mix-up,” he said, referring to the children’s game. Quickly his scowl cleared. “I gave one of the kids a note to give to Ailani about the fencing. I thought she was going to be mending fence today, anyway, not you. Maybe that’s the mix-up.”
“Hmm. Maybe. Anyway, why not just call her instead of a note?” Key asked, relieved that his brother hadn’t been involved, and trying to steer him away from asking any further questions about the note and Sonia, now that Key had inadvertently divulged the information, something he would not have done had he not thought his brother was involved.
He was still trying to figure out the situation himself and didn’t need his brother’s advice or ill-timed humor.
“Cell phone? We’re talking about Lani, here,” Nick replied with a laugh, walking over to the large oval table in the eating area of the large kitchen.
It was a well-known fact that Ailani was a throwback to an earlier generation. She was one of the few people he knew who didn’t carry her cell on her person twenty-four/seven. The fact was, if she could get away with it, she wouldn’t own one at all.
Key grunted in agreement, conceding the point. “Yeah, I guess the old-fashioned way of communication is the best for her.”
“Okay, now that that issue is resolved...what’s up with you and Sonia?” his brother asked, grinning hugely, ignoring Key’s immediate reaction.
“That’s not up for conversation,” Key replied before bringing the bottle to his mouth and drinking.
After a few moments he finished and slammed the bottle on the counter, and opened the door again for a second.
“Guess I don’t have to ask what kind of day you had, son?”
Hearing his father’s voice, Key paused, slowly turning around to face the elder Kealoha. “Hey, I didn’t hear you come in. How you feeling today?” he asked, concern replacing the short-tempered tone in his voice. He watched as his father walked in, the ivory-handled cane thumping against the hardwood flooring with every step. It was all Key could do not to race to his father’s side, take his cane and help him into one of the large, comfortable, high-back kitchen chairs that circled the table.
He glanced over at his brother, knowing Nick was thinking the same thing he was, and also that to do so would anger their father.
Alekanekelo Kealoha was a proud man.
Since the stroke, he’d been forced to accept help he’d never had to in the past. Now, as he was rarely seen outside his personal living quarters, they didn’t want to upset him by running to his side to offer help he didn’t ask for.
His father’s pride was another reason he had yet to approach him with what he knew about his and Nick’s heritage, who their biological father was and why his parents had kept it from them.
Warily Key watched his father walk farther into the kitchen, relying heavily on his cane.
He grabbed two more beers and walked over to the table where his father was standing, near Nick. After offering his brother one, he held out the other to his father.
When his father accepted the drink, all three men sat down at the table.
The elder Kealoha took a drink and placed it down carefully. A frown marred his aged but handsome face as he glanced first at Key and then Nick.
“Before I go into finding out what in hell is going on with my boys...stop looking at me like I’m gonna break. I’m made from tougher stuff than this watered-downed crap they pass off as beer these days,” he said, grimacing, his glance going over the bottle he held in his hand.
“No damn wonder. Light beer? May as well get me a bottle of milk,” he griped, yet brought the bottle to his mouth and finished it. “Can’t wait to get back to my brewery.”
A look passed between Key and Nick. They knew their father was feeling better if he was ranting about beer. The man was a self-proclaimed aficionado of all beer and had been brewing it from the time they were small boys.
They hid their grins.
“So what gives...what’s going on? And don’t tell me ‘nothing,’ I know something is going on. And it sure in hell is something more than that crew running ’round here causing the disharmony.”
After making the pronouncement he pierced each man with a stare.
The humor dropped away, and Key held his tongue. Although Alek Kealoha hadn’t been working as much as he used to before the stroke, Key knew their father was as aware of what was going on at the ranch as when he was fully working it.
“Is it something going on with the production crew? Seemed like that was doing fine. The exposure for your mother was the reason we all agreed. But I know that she wouldn’t want that at the expense of the ranch,” he said, and Key felt guilt stab at him. It wasn’t the show that was the problem.
It was the things he wanted to do with the producer that was the problem.
Damn.
“Far as I’m concerned, the crew is the least of the problem. I think you need to ask Key what the problem is.” Nick was the first to speak, ignoring the glare Key sent his way.
“What, man?” Nick said. “All I know is that for the last few months you’ve been acting like something crawled up your butt you didn’t like, and—”
“Nothing could crawl up my butt that I’d like, bro, let’s get that straight. I’m not into all that kinky shit you seem to—”
“I have a feeling it has something to do with more than the film crew. I think our shy kid here has a crush on—”
“And I sure in hell haven’t been called a ‘shy kid’ since I was a damn kid. If you got something to say, bro, spill it. If not, you know what you can—”
“Enough.” The one word brought the brothers’ heated words to a halt.
While the verbal exchange was going on, Alek Kealoha sat back, crossed his big arms over his chest and watched his sons going at it like two rabid pit bulls.
He sighed. “What in hell is going on around here? Really going on,” Alek asked, and glanced up as Mahi chose that moment to begin bringing over the evening meal.
“I’ve been asking them the same damn thing, Alek. Can’t seem to get to the bottom of it. Tension so thick you could cut it with the back end of a rusty hoe,” the old man groused, and, before anyone could say anything in rebuttal, he placed the food on the table and turned away.
“Maybe you can do something with them. Been like this off and on for the better part of a week. I’ll turn these knuckleheaded boys of yours over to you, gladly.” He grumbled and left the kitchen, with all eyes on him.
Alek gave them each a look that brought back memories to Key of when they were young boys and were about to get in deep-shit trouble.
Which was more often than not, he thought and glanced over at his twin. They exchanged a
look, one that told him his brother’s thoughts were the same as his.
Yes, things had been tense lately, Key acknowledged that, but he and Nick usually worked it out, and nothing major had happened they hadn’t been able to handle.
He held his brother’s gaze for a moment before turning to look at their father.
“Looking good, Dad. Glad to see you up,” Nick said gruffly, but Key heard real emotion in his brother’s voice, one that he shared.
Key observed their father and tried to hide his surprise and joy at the sight of him at the table, obviously ready to join them for dinner.
The times his father came and ate with them for dinner had been few and far between since their mother’s death nearly a year ago and his father’s subsequent stroke.
He and Nick exchanged another telling glance...Mahi had roused their father out of bed on the pretext of “taking care” of the “boys.”
Both men hid their pleased grins.
“Now look here, no matter what it is, we’re family. And family—”
“Takes care of family,” Key and Nick murmured together.
“It’s good to have you eating at the table with us for dinner, Dad,” Key said, and smiled at his father, gritting his teeth together to force away the sudden emotion.
“Yeah, well, it’s about damn time, I guess. Can’t keep moping around forever. Your mom would kick my rear end if she knew.” He stopped, his voice thickening with emotion.
“Yeah, she would,” Nick replied, his voice rough.
Alek looked from one to the other, cleared his throat and clapped his hands together. “Okay, well now how ’bout we dig in. Looks like Mahi outdid himself,” he said, and both men laughed. Although he was a sentimental man, their father was, when at his best, succinct in both action and words.
He gave them a questioning look, but they simply shook their heads and, after a silent prayer of thanks, dug in to the feast Mahi had prepared.
Key put the quandary of what he would do about the note...the invitation, to the back of his mind to contemplate later.
Chapter 9
Sonia stared at her reflection, examining her body.
She carefully moved the lapels of her robe to the side and, with hands loaded with cream, swiped her hands over her breasts and down the length of her body, slowly.
When she came to the juncture of her thighs, she paused, one hand brushing over the low curls that covered her mound.
Biting the corner of her mouth, she feathered her finger over her clitoris, imagining it was another’s hand doing the caressing.
She stopped before she could go any further, her face burning with color.
“God, what am I doing?” she asked aloud. She turned on the faucet and quickly washed her hands, drying them on the hand towel she’d grabbed after the shower.
It wasn’t as though she was embarrassed to touch herself—she was an adult woman. It was simply that as she began touching herself, images of another’s big hands in the place of hers came to mind, and she knew to continue along that thread was a recipe for disaster.
Especially as she was set to meet up with her would-be fantasy lover in less than an hour.
With a deep sigh, she closed the ties to her robe firmly. She reached up and, using the ends of her robe, wiped away the dewy moisture left over from the steam of the shower on the mirror before plopping down on the small, tufted chair and examining her face.
Any other time, for any other date, she wouldn’t be putting herself through this drill. Although it had been a while since she’d gone out on a real date. Immediately the thought rang in her mind—is this what this was, a real date?
Sighing, she reached for her moisturizer, squeezed a generous dollop on her hand and smeared it on her face, her mind going over exactly what had brought her to this time.
After the kiss she and Keanu had shared, she hadn’t known what to expect the next day. Would he be cold to her, as was his normal MO, ignore her and act as if it didn’t happen, or would he seek her out and pick up where he had left off, and take the intimacy to the next level. Or somewhere in between.
What he’d done instead had completely shocked her. Normally they rarely saw each other, besides occasional glimpses, during filming. She hadn’t known if it was by accident or design that it happened that way. But when she hadn’t seen him at all the next day she’d felt a sting of disappointment, one she tried to brush aside and pretend didn’t exist, but it refused to go away.
The next day she’d been given a note from one of the stable hands, from Key.
Name the place and time. If lunch works best, let me know. If not, I know of an out-of-the-way place we can meet for dinner. Either way, doesn’t matter to me. ~ Key.
Succinct and to the point. What the hell was she supposed to make of that, anyway? Was that his way of asking her out to eat? Was it a date? she’d wondered, frowning as she reread the brief note. Then it dawned on her that perhaps it was simply to go over the contract, and she felt all kinds of stupid for thinking otherwise. The kiss hadn’t meant a thing to him.
Damn him. She shouldn’t feel this way about him. Shouldn’t give a damn if he wanted to pick up where he left off, shouldn’t care that it had all been some game with him. Her only thought should be getting his signature on the contract. And if that was what he wanted, that worked for her, too.
To that end, for the rest of the day, she’d firmly put Key and her confusing feelings for him out of her mind. Told herself to keep it business and nothing more. To do anything else was a surefire way of getting hurt.
After careful consideration she’d sent him a text agreeing to the date, and he’d given her the name of the restaurant to meet him.
Sighing, she reached for her under-eye cream and lightly dabbed it on the undersides and corners of her lids. She considered her reflection in the mirror. Although she never considered herself a raving beauty, after having worked in the entertainment industry for a number of years she was convinced that she could hold her own. What did he see when he looked at her? Did he find her attractive?
“Why do I even care?” she murmured aloud as she dusted her face lightly with powder before applying her makeup. “I’m beyond ridiculous.”
Still, she took extra care with her makeup. She lifted the dark pencil to outline her lids but hesitated as her hand hovered over the gold eye shadow. She glanced over her shoulder to look at the gold kimono hanging on the outside hook of the closet. Dare she wear something so overtly sexual?
She stood and padded over to the silky dress and pulled it from the hanger, spinning around to examine herself with it in front of her body.
Her mother had bought the dress last spring while she and her father had been overseas, filming a documentary in Japan. It was authentic and beautiful. She’d tried it on once and found that not only was it those things, it also fit her body like a second skin. Laughing, she’d placed it at the back of her closet, knowing she’d never dare wear something so form hugging.
Yet she’d brought it with her to Hawaii.
Even as she’d packed the dress, she’d had Keanu in mind, as from the beginning, even though she hadn’t met him, he’d already begun to filter into her thoughts often.
She was tempted to put it away and wear something a little less sexy, less...revealing.
Either way, doesn’t much matter to me. Something about that phrasing had set her teeth on edge.
As though she didn’t matter. As though she made no impression or had any lasting effect on him.
She smiled.
Let the games begin.
Chapter 10
Sonia arrived at the restaurant they’d decided on, a place she had never been to, but one that he’d chosen, called the Mai-Kai, and as she closed and locked her car door, she carefully made her way along
the stone path leading to the wooden porch and opening to the restaurant.
From the outside the establishment, the place appeared to have seen better days. Looking like a run-down old building in need of repair, she took in the shabby appearance with a wave of disappointment. Obviously he hadn’t given much thought to where they would eat.
With tension playing havoc on her nerves she’d stepped inside, only to be pleasantly surprised at what she encountered the minute she entered.
Authentic Polynesian decor tastefully accented the large dining area. Complete with authentic and detailed beautiful wood carvings and various maritime antiques, the atmosphere was both classic yet casual, a tasteful blending of both.
A smile lifted the corner of her mouth as she glanced around, searching for Key. When the maître d’ approached her and asked her name, he held out a hand, indicating that she was to follow him as he led her to a perfectly stationed table, hidden away from the main floor.
Key stood as she approached and pulled out her chair. As she walked over to where he waited, her eyes drank in the sight of him, just as he was returning the favor.
He could have stepped out of any one of the shows she produced and fit right in. Tall, his body would look good in anything, but the casual slacks he wore clung to his long muscular legs, the silk shirt open at the neck exposing a fine dusting of hair on his chest.
When he smiled at her, she blushed, embarrassed to be caught ogling him so openly.
But when she caught the admiring look in his eyes, part of her embarrassment melted, and she gave him a genuine smile in return.
“I’m glad you made it,” he murmured, and her gaze flew to his, wondering at the wording, but she simply smiled in return.
“Glad you made it, as well,” she replied. When her stomach growled she groaned, laughing lightly. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast, so busy with the day and fixating on what she would wear to the date that she’d been a mass of nerves.
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