Beach Happens (Hawaii Heat, #2)

by Jamie K. Schmidt

It wasn't a total lie.

  "Good," he said.

  "Good?" Michaela wasn't expecting that response, but before she could follow up with a question, Marcus cupped the back of her head and kissed her. The beer bottle dropped from her nerveless fingers.

  She rested her hand on his shoulder, only briefly considering shoving him back. But his mouth was soft and sweet and the dip of his tongue made her dizzy and hungry for him. Maybe a temporary thing was just what she needed to get some confidence back.

  Marcus laid back down in the hammock, pulling her with him so she rested on top of him. His erection pressed into her stomach.

  Oh, hell yes.

  She entangled her legs with his and wrapped her arms around his neck. Michaela wasn't sure how long they kissed for, but sooner than she was ready to be interrupted, someone cleared his throat a few times.

  She broke away, embarrassed to see a man who looked like a bigger version of Matthew McConaughey standing over them.

  "No puinsai in my hammock," he said.

  "Fuck off," Marcus snarled and went to kiss her again, but she stood up in a hurry.

  "Hi," she said. "You must be Dude." She held out her hand, but he didn't shake it. His arms were crossed over his barrel chest and he glared down at his brother.

  "What crawled up your ass?" Marcus asked, getting up.

  "Tetsuo Hojo. He's accusing us of having panhandlers on the property, bothering the guests."

  "That's bullshit. Where's Amelia?"

  "She's handling him. I had to leave before I punched him out. He says we've got squatters camping out on the beach as well."

  Michaela's heart dropped into her feet. She hoped she wasn't getting Amelia in trouble.

  "I'll straighten him out." Marcus grabbed a shirt and pulled it on over his head.

  That was her cue to leave. She wasn't sure where she was going, but it wasn't back to her room just yet. She headed down the beach towards the time shares. If she cut through them, she might be able to sneak back on the property to her room without anyone seeing her.

  It wasn't until she made it back unseen and collapsed on her bed, that she realized he left her again without a second glance.

  Swell.

  Chapter Six

  Michaela was having a really sexy dream about tracing Marcus' Adonis belt with her tongue when her fucking cell phone woke her up.

  "What?" She answered it without thinking. If this was Gerald, there was no way she could have this conversation without a pot of coffee spiked with Kahlúa.

  "Hi Mrs. Stone, this is Paradise Airlines. I wanted to let you know that we've located your suitcase and it's in a taxi on its way to you."

  "Um..." Michaela sat up. "What time is it?"

  "It's just after nine a.m.”

  Which was six a.m. for Michaela. Too early for this shit.

  “Your bag should be on your doorstep by noon."

  That hit her like snorting coffee grounds.

  "What? Where are you sending my luggage?"

  "To seventeen Prince Street in Malibu," the woman said with a hint of attitude in her voice.

  Get snotty with me, will you?

  "I'm in fucking Maui. Why are you delivering my bag to my home? I'm not there."

  She gave a nervous giggle. "Well, you see Mrs. Stone..."

  "Harris," Michaela barked. "Attorney Harris."

  "Oh. I have you down as..."

  "I don't care.”

  “Your bag never left Los Angeles,” she finished, quickly before Michaela could interrupt her.

  “Listen to me,” Michaela ran her fingers through her hair in frustration. “No one will be there to pick up my bag. It will sit on my step until someone steals it. I need you to bring it back to the airport and this time put it on a fucking plane to Maui, like I paid you the ridiculous fee of twenty-five bucks to do."

  "I'm afraid I can't do that."

  "What?" Michaela wiped the sleep out of her eyes. "Why not?"

  "The taxi is already gone.”

  “Call him.”

  “I don’t have his number,” the woman said.

  Michaela resisted the urge to scream. “Put me on hold. Call the taxi company and have them call the driver.” Why was she telling this woman her job? Oh right, because they were about to drop a three thousand dollar bag on her doorstep. Which would be a huge flag to whomever steals it that Michaela wasn’t home.

  The woman came back on the line. “I’m sorry Miss Harris. The driver isn’t answering his cell phone. Of course, we’ll refund you the baggage fee."

  "Great. Just great." Michaela hung up.

  What the hell was she going to do? She couldn't call Gayle and have her wait at her condo until the luggage appeared. It was one thing to ask her to do a quick errand, but with the way traffic was who knew when her bag was going to get there? She had pissed off her boss enough this week without dragging a paralegal out of the office for most of the day.

  Michaela called her mother. It went to voice mail. She was probably still sleeping, the phone turned off so as not to disturb her beauty rest. She hung up without leaving a message and tried her father. Also voice mail. He was probably chewing someone a new asshole and chomping antacids like they were M&Ms.

  Gerald was the only one else who had a key to her condo.

  "Damn it to hell." For a moment, she considered writing off the suitcase and everything in it. Then she thought of all the cute outfits she bought and the expensive lingerie inside her designer suitcase. "Shit."

  Michaela dialed Gerald, hoping for voice mail. So naturally, he answered on the first ring.

  "Michaela, I'm so glad you called."

  Rage choked her. He sounded normal and pleasant, as if nothing had happened. "Look,” she said. “I need you to go to my condo and wait for the taxi driver to deliver my suitcase. LAX never put it on the plane and instead of sending it to me, they decided to drive it home instead."

  "I can't," he said, with just enough of regret in his voice to drive her bat shit. "I've got a busy schedule today."

  "Can you send someone?" she said through her teeth. She didn't give a crap if he wasted his admin's time.

  "Why don't you come home? I miss you."

  Michaela had to clamp her hand over her mouth before she started screaming obscenities at him. Was he that clueless? He didn’t even bother to explain why he never went to the church. He was just going to pretend that nothing had ever happened. Just a typical Wednesday.

  "Are you there?" he asked when the silence between them grew uncomfortable for him.

  She decided to avoid his misdirection and concentrate on the real reason why she called. He didn’t show up at the church because he was an asshole. They didn’t have a relationship because they didn’t love each other, and a friend wouldn’t have humiliated her like that.

  "Can you rescue my bag or do I have to write that off as a loss as well?" It was tough to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

  "I think I can send an intern. Do you mind if a stranger is in your house?"

  "No. I just don't want to lose all my clothes and my Louis Vuitton suitcase."

  "Hold for a moment and I'll see what I can do."

  Flopping back on the bed, Michaela listened to the insipid Muzak. She was pretty sure it was AC/DC's Hell's Bells. What was she going to do if he couldn’t find anyone to watch for her bag? Should she just admit defeat and go back home? She was alone, without a computer or a decent change of clothes, and she didn’t even have an official hotel room. If she caught a plane now, there was a chance she’d be back home before dark and her suitcase might still be there.

  "Darling?" he said when he got back on the line.

  Go fuck yourself.

  That was almost out before she caught herself. "Can your intern wait at my condo until the taxi with my bag gets there?" she asked instead.

  "Not a problem."

  Finally, something went right.

  "I was thinking maybe I could bring it to you this weekend."

&
nbsp; "What?" Michaela sat bolt upright.

  "We’d still have a week’s vacation together."

  "Go fuck yourself." There was no stopping it this time.

  "I understand you're upset, but this isn't a deal breaker for us."

  "Go fuck yourself." It was louder this time. Not a deal breaker? The only thing that would have been worse would have been if he had been banging his ex-girlfriend in the vestibule before the ceremony.

  "I made a mistake," Gerald's voice was showing the slightest bit of aggravation. "I'm sorry you're upset."

  Not, I’m sorry I changed my mind about getting married.

  Not, I'm sorry I humiliated you.

  Not, I'm sorry I haven't called to explain.

  Gerald continued, oblivious to the fact she was seething with fury at him. "I had a lot of pressure from a few clients, and I needed to be in a different frame of mind before I could marry you. I just needed a few days to clear my head and concentrate on work. I was able to close a few cases and get a head start on some research, so now I can enjoy my vacation."

  "Fuck you!" She hung up on him and stalked over to her carry-on. Taking the ring box out, Michaela flung it as hard as she could at the wall. It bounced off and tumbled close to her. She picked it up and hurled it at the wall twice more. Then stomped on it for good measure.

  Her phone rang, but she ignored it. When it was clear that Gerald wasn't going to stop calling, Michaela turned the phone off and stuffed it in the drawer.

  She practiced her deep breathing exercises in the shower, but she was still pissed off. Luckily, her bikini was dry because she needed to get into the water, right now, and let the waves pound the anger out of her. However when she got down to the beach, the shark warning signs were still out.

  "Figures," she said. But even though she was mad enough to take on a shark, she knew there were other beaches that were safe for her to swim out her anger on.

  As she strode into the lobby, she was surprised to see Marcus at his computer in one of the large wicker chairs. He didn't look up, and she didn't think she could handle another workaholic asshole, so she didn't interrupt him.

  "Howzit," Michaela said to Makoa who was behind the tour excursion desk.

  "Hey, girl. You ready to go back in the water?"

  "Shoots." She grinned, feeling a little better after using some of the slang they taught her yesterday. "Have you seen Hani?"

  "It's his day off. He's probably home. Want me to call him?"

  "That won't be necessary," Marcus said.

  Michaela jumped. She hadn't heard him come up behind her. She gave him a tight smile. His eyes narrowed on her. "Are you all right?"

  "Fine," she said. "No. Not fine. I need to surf. The rougher the waves, the better."

  "Do you want some company? It's not a good idea to surf alone, even if you wouldn’t be alone for long, especially in that bikini."

  She smiled at that. He was good at flirting. "Sure, if you can fit it in with your busy schedule."

  "For you and that suit, I'd make time," he said.

  Really good at flirting.

  Then he walked away from her again.

  Well, fuck him too.

  Except, he came back with his laptop closed. "Let's go."

  "Uh, this is kind of embarrassing," she said. "I need to borrow a board."

  "Not a problem. Are you sure you want to surf in that?" He gave her a slow once over that shouldn't have made her toes curl, but it did.

  "You got a problem with my suit?" She put her hands on her hips. A part of her recognized that she was looking for a fight, but she ignored the caution signs. She probably should just put her travel clothes back on and take a cab to Walmart, but she didn’t want to waste the waves. She actually had wanted to buy a wetsuit of her own today, so she didn’t have to keep borrowing Joely’s, but Gerald's asshattery blew all of her plans out of the water.

  "Nope, I’m a big fan of that suit." Marcus slung an arm around her waist and steered her out into the courtyard.

  Michaela wanted to calm down enough to have a conversation with him, but she was still stewing over Gerald. Marcus’ body was nice and warm, and it felt so damn good to be held. Her anger was turning into something else entirely, and she put her arm around him as well.

  She couldn't help remembering how nice he was yesterday when she needed comfort. "I wanted to thank you for getting me out of the ocean fast."

  "My pleasure," he said, pulling her in to kiss her temple. “I’m sorry I had to leave before we were able to finish what we started.

  Michaela knew her faced flamed up. “It’s probably good your brother showed up when he did.”

  “It’s never good when he shows up. Trust me on that.” He laughed.

  "Where are we going?" she asked, leaning her head against him. Her angry stride was slowly turning into a leisurely saunter.

  "I've got to change and grab my boards. Are you hungry?"

  "Yeah," she admitted.

  He pulled out his cell phone, and she glared at him until she realized he was ordering breakfast for them. "Hi Pololena, can you send up two cheese omelets and toast, a pot of coffee and fruit salad?" Marcus moved the phone away from his mouth. "Anything else?"

  Normally, she would have gotten pissed about him ordering for her, but it felt comforting, like he was taking care of her. Her rage lowered a peg and simmered into the awareness that had flared between them yesterday.

  "No thanks," she said. “That all sounds wonderful.”

  He slipped his phone back into his pants. "I was thinking we could go to Ho’okipa. It's got some long rides. It looks like you could use that."

  "Yeah." Michaela hugged him. He understood. "Are you sure you don't have to work?"

  "I'm sure that I want to spend time with you more that I want to work," he said.

  That pleased her more than it should. Finally, someone who put her first. "I'd like that too."

  He led her to one of the buildings that were close to the water, and they took the elevator all the way up to the top floor.

  It opened up into a short hallway. "There's only three suites up here. Samuel and Amelia live next door. We both have ocean views. The other suite doesn't, but we make up for it with butler service."

  "Pretty swank," she said. But Michaela wasn't prepared for just how swank it was. After Marcus opened the door, she gaped at the entire living room wall. It was a floor to ceiling window overlooking Kaanapali beach with views of Molokai and Lanai.

  "I would stand here all day," she said.

  "No, you wouldn't. As soon as there was a big surf break, you'd be out there."

  She laughed. He was right.

  He came up behind her and cupped her shoulders, rubbing his thumbs over them. She nearly crumpled into a puddle.

  "Don't be nice to me," she whispered.

  "Why?"

  "I need to be pissed or I'll start crying."

  He moved her pony tail and pressed a kiss to the back of her neck. “I like being nice to you.” He caressed her arms and then hugged her from behind. “Now, tell me why you’re breathing fire today.”

  She tensed in his arms. “I was just starting to calm down.”

  "Let's see if I can help you relax, then." He licked her ear and then nuzzled her neck. He traced circle patterns on her stomach. Michaela’s brain short circuited and the anger switched in to lust. She went to turn in his arms, but he held her firm.

  “Put your hands on the window,” he ordered.

  “What?” Michaela asked, breathlessly. He nibbled on the juncture between her shoulder and neck and it was making her crazy.

  “Do it.” He slid his hands under her bikini top and groaned in her ear.

  She smacked her hands on the window just to keep her balance as he massaged her breasts.

  “I’ve been thinking about these all night,” he said, rubbing his palms over her hard nipples.

  She swayed back against his erection and smiled at how hard he was.

  He con
tinued to ravage that sweet spot on her neck while he rolled one of her nipples between his thumb and forefinger.

  “Oh,” she moaned. Her vision was filled with the deep blue sky and the turquoise waves. Spots of white water dotted over the ocean as the waves crashed against the reefs.

  Marcus pressed in closer, reaching down into her bikini bottom.

  “Spread your legs,” he ordered, and she was powerless to do anything but obey him.

  He crooked his fingers between her legs and played with her. Michaela’s head arched back, and he kissed her cheek and forehead.

  “Come for me,” Marcus commanded, his fingers dancing inside her. The tug on her nipple and the flicking against her clit was bringing her fast to a dangerous edge. She backed up against him, rubbing her ass over his hardness.

  The only sound in the room was her harsh breathing and the slick sounds he was making in her body.

  “Fuck, you’re wet,” he ground out.

  She reached up and held his head next to hers. “I’m coming,” she gasped.

  “Yeah,” Marcus said, not letting up one bit.

  Pleasure as bright as the sun, blinded her and her entire body trembled.

  “Mmm.” Marcus brought his fingers to his mouth and tasted her.

  Whirling, Michaela knocked his hand away and kissed him. She unbuttoned his pants, while his mouth made love to her.

  A quiet knock brought Marcus's attention away from her. The door opened, and a woman pushed a breakfast cart inside.

  "Breakfast," she said. "Aloha Mr. Kincaide."

  “Fuck,” he whispered and buttoned himself back up, while his back was to the woman. "Aloha, Pololena."

  Michaela stifled a giggle and fixed her bikini as Pololena noisily set the cart up and pulled over two chairs. Marcus winced as he shifted his erection, and smiled at Michaela ruefully.

  Pololena poured coffee into two mugs. “Will there be anything else, sir?”

  "We’re good for now,” Marcus said without turning around. “Thank you, Pololena."

  After she left, Marcus locked the door.

  Michaela raised her eyebrow.

  "Should have done that in the first place," he said. He advanced back on her with a determined gleam in his eyes. And his phone rang.

  Don’t answer it.