Don’t panic.
Hani must have saw it on her face anyway. “But let me call around for you. Other hotels might have cancellations they’re looking to fill.”
“I’d really appreciate it.”
“In the meantime, please help yourself to the buffet.” He reached under the desk and handed her a free coupon.
Michaela hadn’t realized how hungry she was. She almost swayed. “You’re an awesome man.”
“As soon as I find a hotel for you, I’ll send someone to find you with the information. Do you have a price limit?”
“If we can keep it around the same price as my old reservation that would be great, but I understand beggars can’t be choosers.”
“Roger dat,” he said. He gave her a map and showed her the path to get to the buffet. “I’ll keep your cell phone safe. No worries. I can hold your luggage here too.” He craned his neck.
“Yeah, well you could if the airline had remembered to put it on the plane. It’s dancing around LAX somewhere.”
Hani reached back under the desk and handed her another coupon.
Good for two free Piña Coladas.
“You married?” she asked him. “I’ve got the dress.”
He laughed nervously. “I got a boyfriend.”
She winked at him. “He’s a lucky man.” Michaela handed him her carry-on. At least there was a change of clothes, her bathing suit and whatever makeup she could fit in a quart size baggie in there. None of which she needed at the moment and she was sick of schlepping the stupid thing around. Then she paused. Her engagement ring was in there too, a Vera Wang design Gerald got a Jared's. She had loved it. It had hurt to take it off her finger, because she had worn it every day for two years. She should really dig it out and put it on, just so no one stole it.
Fuck it. Fuck him.
As far as she was concerned, that ring was cursed. If someone wanted all that bad karma stored in it, they were welcome.
Michaela strolled through the courtyard. The sun was setting with a dramatic palette of pinks and oranges. People gathered on the beach to watch, holding hands and laughing. She wasn’t in that place in her head yet where she could enjoy a beautiful sunset. She was more in a headspace of toss herself in the ocean and let the waves batter her around for a bit. But she knew better than to do that in strange waters. Sharks came out this time of night anyway.
She shuddered. She had seen a few shark attacks in Malibu and had even been in the water when the life guards called everyone in. She was terrified of them, but it wouldn’t keep her out of the water. Shark attacks weren’t all that common. They were just memorable. Michaela had surfed up and down the California coast for most of her life, and had only seen sharks a handful of times.
Damn Gerald anyway. As soon as she got settled in a hotel, she was going to find out where to rent a surf board.
The buffet was pretty much empty, except for a man who sat at a table with a lap top. He was scowling into it and had his phone up to his ear. He looked up when she passed by him, did a double take, and then something on the phone caught his attention.
“No. Damn it. I don’t care if it is two in the morning. The fucking servers are down and you need to find out why before we open for business in a few hours. I can’t open my fucking files.”
She grimaced. Sounds like she wasn't the only one who the bluebird of happiness shit on. Still, she'd trade his bad day for hers. Of course that would mean she'd be with Gerald right now as his wife, and her case load would be in a black hole somewhere.
Nah, I’m good after all.
The relief hit her like a two by four in the knees. She'd dodged a bullet. Her marriage to Gerald wouldn’t have been anything but business. And Michaela wanted more than that. Shit, she deserved more than that.
Still, the burn of humiliation hadn’t quite left yet. Blinking back tears, she took a seat where she could see a little bit of the beach, when it wasn’t blocked by palm trees. After handing in her coupon to the waitress, she went up to the buffet table.
The man was drumming his fingers on the table, a tic that reminded her of Gerald and she controlled a shudder. They had been friends, or at least she thought so. It hurt that he felt he couldn’t have been honest with her.
The buffet was overwhelming with all of the choices, some of which Michaela had never heard of like haupia pudding and lomi lomi salmon. Her stomach growled. She had been on the diet from hell for the last six months to make sure her wedding dress would fit perfectly. Another thing to resent Gerald for. She gave up chocolate for that man!
Dick!
She made a mental note to try everything at some point, but started off with a large fruit salad and some Hawaiian rolls stuffed with Spam.
Bread!
She got two coffees because she figured once she sat down, she wasn’t going to get up again until they kicked her out. Michaela couldn't decide between the chocolate espresso cake smothered in whipped cream or the triple chocolate brownie doused with thick caramel sauce. So she got both.
Fuck it! I'm on vacation.
"I'm not paying you to give me excuses. Fix the damn thing and then figure out how it happened so I never have to end my day again, wondering if I lost all my work," the man barked.
Michaela rolled her eyes. He sounded like a real prince to work for. Then again, it wasn't her files that were currently swimming around in cyberspace.
While he was distracted, she got a good eyeful of him. His face was just short of pretty, a broken nose marring what could have been a model's profile. He had a wide, sensual mouth and long, elegant fingers. He made her a little giddy, but that could just be hysteria creeping in disguised as exhaustion.
"Two hours." He tossed his phone on the table in disgust and rubbed his palm over his face.
Michaela looked at the phone a little longingly. She wished her phone was charged. She'd like to give Gerald hell. The last time she checked her phone, he still hadn’t texted or called.
The man started typing, his strong jaw set. She didn't envy who was going to get the email he was sending. Maybe she should send Gerald an email? That way she could get everything out without being interrupted. Eating the desserts first, she licked her spoon clean with vindictive glee. Take that, Spanx.
Dear Dickhead,
Fuck you, you piece of shit.
Michaela shook her head. Never put anything in writing that you don't want read in a court of law. She should probably wait until she wasn't emotionally overwrought from a horrendous few days.
She pushed away the feelings of loneliness because if she didn’t, she would start to cry. If they couldn’t find her a hotel room, maybe she could rent a minivan and see if she could pay someone to let her park in their driveway.
How was your honeymoon, Michaela?
Great. I spent it alone and homeless.
Stuffing her mouth with the sweet and savory bread, she forced herself to chew away the bad thoughts, but they kept creeping up. This vacation was supposed to have been more than just a honeymoon. It was the first time off she'd taken in five years. It was supposed to be full of booze-fueled sex and laughter. Now, she'd be lucky if she was going to have a place to shower.
Don't panic.
Concentrating on taking deep breaths, she speared a pineapple and her mouth exploded with pleasure. Oh yum. That taste might just have redeemed the day. Perfectly sweet and not sour, it was the best pineapple she’d ever tasted.
The bad feelings subsided enough that she was able to see perspective. She wasn’t at work. She wasn’t married to a man who didn’t love her. And she was going to surf all day tomorrow. A soft breeze from the ocean, ruffled her hair as if to say, Aloha.
Finishing the last of the bread, Michaela pushed the tray away and the bus boy immediately came and took it away from her. If she had her laptop, she could answer a few emails so she wasn't so slammed when she got back, but she had deliberately left it at home. If she couldn’t bring her surfboard, then Gerald couldn’t bring his
computer. Of course, that meant she couldn't either so it was sitting on her desk back in California. He had argued with her about it. He had clients in Hawaii. If he could meet with them, he could write off his honeymoon as a tax deduction.
That should have been her first clue that it would all end in tears.
Taking a sip of her coffee, Michaela watched the angry businessman again. He was really good looking. Flicking her gaze to his hands, she didn't see a ring on his finger. Not that it mattered. Why would she care? She'd had enough of snide workaholics. He was in Hawaii for Pete's sake. He should be out on the beach with the rest of them. Or hanging out in the Tiki bar with an equally gorgeous woman on his arm.
Michaela was determined to put the mainland behind her for two weeks. She wasn’t an overworked attorney struggling for partner. No, here she was just going to be a surfer girl. Her priorities were going to be rad waves and parties. She didn’t have to be alone, if she didn’t want to be.
The man ran his fingers through his blond hair in frustration. It made it stick up in an adorable mess. She felt a little tickle along her spine when he looked up and caught her staring at him. His eyes were a warm shade of green, full of intelligence and ire.
“Get everything sorted out?” she asked, deciding to brazen through it, even though she felt her cheeks warm in embarrassment.
He blew out a sigh. “It’s hard being in the wrong time zone.” He closed his laptop with a snap. “I’m Marcus.”
“Michaela,” she said.
“I’d offer you something to drink, but I see you’re two fisting it already.” He motioned to the two cups of coffee.
“I can share,” she pushed one across the table. She could use a little bit of company, and he was really easy on the eyes.
“I can get my own.” He smiled and went over to the machine.
Michaela did a double take. He had a fine ass and his shoulders were nice and broad. Should she really be talking to strange men? No. But she was sick of her own company.
Marcus came back with two mugs of his own. “Mind if I join you?”
“Not at all.” She noticed he had some pretty impressive biceps too.
“Did you just get here?”
Michaela nodded. “Yeah, I’m beat.” Which was probably why she was ogling him like he was a Playgirl centerfold.
“You’ll like it here,” he said. “The staff takes good care of you.”
“I’m not staying here,” she said, feeling a little sad that she wasn’t. She had picked out this resort because of the location to Black Rock and the Whaler’s Village shopping mall. It seemed to have everything Gerald and she liked. But apparently Michaela didn’t have a clue what that prick wanted. He had suggested a luxurious resort down in Wailea, but she had a sneaking suspicion that’s where his clients were, so she convinced him that staying on the Kaanapali strip was a much better choice. She wondered if the Kaimana Beach Resort that Gerald wanted to stay at would have been able to find her an opening or if they would have called her a cab back to the airport.
“Where are you staying?”
Michaela raised an eyebrow. Hot or not, he didn’t get to have that information. Of course, she had no idea either, but that was beside the point.
“Why do you want to know?”
He smiled apologetically. “Sorry, didn’t mean to be nosy. I live here part of the year, so I was going to recommend a few things to do.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “What do you do for fun?”
“Spreadsheets,” he deadpanned, surprising a laugh out of her.
“Exciting.”
“Yeah, that’s me. Mr. Excitement. How about you?”
That was the thing, Michaela wasn’t sure. It had been such a long time since she had fun she had almost forgotten how. “I’ve got to say a good pivot table makes my toes tingle,” she quipped instead. It was even a little true.
His answering grin was like a shot of tequila.
“What do you do for a living?” he asked.
Ugh, really? Why was it always work, work, work?
Michaela didn’t want to talk business. She knew his type. If she told him she was a lawyer, he’d react one of two ways. He’d either start drilling her with questions, looking for free legal advice or he’d act condescending.
“I’m a surfer,” she blurted out. She looked down into her coffee cup. Maybe they added crazy pills to it.
"Well, you've come to the right place." Marcus waved his coffee cup. "Hawaii, I mean. Not necessarily this resort. Best waves in the world."
"I hope so. I can't wait to hit the water tomorrow."
He nodded. "You got a great choice of beaches."
She had beaches at home too. But it was nice to get away from
it all. Maybe by the time she got home, everything would have blown over. At the very least, Michaela hoped her father's merger went through with Gerald's family while she was gone. She'd like to never speak to her ex again. She tamped down her anger. No sense getting all riled up again.
“Why did you choose Maui, though instead of the Big Island?”
Yeah, Michaela. Why?
She cleared her throat. “Too overcrowded. Too fast paced. I’m sick of the rat race, you know?”
As she said it, she was surprised that it was actually true.
He blinked at her and nodded. “Yeah, yeah I think I do.” But then his phone rang and he looked down at it. “I’m sorry. I’ve got to get this.”
Her lips twisted into a smile. “Good luck with the servers.”
“Have a nice vacation, Michaela. Aloha.” He winked at her and walked back to his laptop. It didn’t look like he got good news because he packed up and left shortly after. He didn’t even glance back at her.
“And so he walked out of my life,” Michaela said, more dejected by the stranger leaving than Gerald.
She had just finished her second cup of coffee when a woman approached her. “Ms. Stone?”
“Not in this lifetime. I’m Michaela Harris.” Michaela said. “Did Hani send you?”
“Yes. I’m Amelia Kincaide. I’m the manager of the resort. May I sit?”
“Sure.” Michaela was a little jittery from the coffee or maybe it was nerves.
“I’ve got some bad news.”
“Hit me with it.” At this point, Michaela was numb. Besides, she still had coupons for two free pina coladas and her credit cards. She’d find a way to enjoy Hawaii.
“I can’t find a hotel room, a condo, a timeshare or someone’s couch for you to stay on.” Amelia's eyes crossed in frustration. “I even tried the Y, but Camp Keanae’s booked, unless you have a tent stashed in the overnight bag.”
“Damn, you don’t beat around the bush.” She reminded Michaela of Zooey Deschanel in that TV show the New Girl.
“I think your ex fiancé is a dill hole.”
Michaela cracked a grin. “I’ve been thinking more flaming asshole, but we can agree to disagree.”
Amelia bit her nail. “I don’t have any rooms available that are up to snuff for a paying customer. But I do have rooms that are under renovation. This is a unique situation for us and normally I wouldn’t even consider offering a room that isn’t up to our quality standards, but...”
Michaela held up a hand. “Does it have a bed and a shower?”
“Yes, but no air conditioning and the room needs to be painted and the floor doesn’t have a carpet or tile.”
“I’ll take it.”
Amelia sagged in relief. “I was hoping you would say that.”
“Why?”
“Because your shit heel ex shouldn't get to ruin your vacation. He’s done enough damage.”
Tears threatened to overwhelm Michaela at the vehemence in Amelia’s voice. This was the first time anyone had gotten angry on her behalf. Sure, her father had been pissed, but it was all about him. Her mother was worried about the gossip. Gerald’s family couldn’t even look her in the eye. Not to mention that rat bastard himself still hadn’t called he
r to explain. Of course, her phone had been dead for the past hour, so maybe he had.
“I can’t thank you enough,” Michaela said.
“Don’t worry. Once the surfing tournaments are over this week, we’ll have some rooms available. There’s no charge for the renovation room, and I’m upgrading you to a suite as soon as I can.”
“So I’m staying?” she grinned.
“Welcome to Palekaiko Beach Resort,” Amelia said. “Aloha.”
“Thank you. Or should I say mahalo?”
Chapter Three
Marcus Kincaide stood on his balcony and looked out over the long stretch of Maui’s Kaanapali Beach. He really needed to get back to New York, but days like this it was hard to remember why.
Marcus snorted. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to wind up in a hammock next to his brother. They could be Dude and...Marcus shrugged. He’d have to come up with another stoner surfer name. He wasn’t growing a beard, though. That shit itched.
When his cell phone rang, he thought about ignoring it. But in the end, it was reflex to look down to see who was calling. It was his arch enemy, Tetsuo. Maybe thinking about him as a super villain was over-the-top, but he had made their lives hell this past year after kidnapping Amelia, his brother’s girlfriend and now wife, and railroading their efforts to renovate the Palekaiko Resort.
His sister-in-law could deal with Tetsuo. She was always complaining about wanting more responsibility. If Amelia didn’t have Tetsuo eating out of the palm of her head by midday, he’d put on a clam shell bra and grass skirt.
Marcus shut off his phone. At least Baxter got the servers up and running under the deadline. Marcus had backed up his data and found he didn't want to spend another minute working.
Michaela, the gorgeous brunette who had been giving him bedroom eyes last night, inspired him. He was going surfing. She had haunted his thoughts all night. If he hadn’t been so twisted up about losing his data, she might have woken up in bed next to him this morning.
He was hoping to remedy that as soon as possible. There was something going on with her that he couldn’t put a finger on, but he wished he had stayed to talk with her last night. She hadn’t been a party girl, or a surfer chick, or even a beach bunny. She was different. After five minutes of talking with her, he hadn’t wished for a strong drink or looked for an escape before his brains leaked out of his ears.
Beach Happens (Hawaii Heat, #2) Page 2