Prologue
The scraggly teenager lumbered past the security guard, insolently looking both irritated and bored as he was told to stand on the line while the guard swiped the metal detector wand over his person. Another guard searched through the worn duffle bag until he came to the item in question.
"It's just a diving watch," the guard told his co-worker.
"Move along," the other said, already focused on the next passenger.
With a rude snap of his gum, the kid grabbed at the bag and proceeded to the gate where his flight would leave in a half hour. Just a diving watch, he snickered. That's what they thought.
Chapter 1
Molly Carson sat at the bar, sipping her blue Hawaiian drink and gazing at the ocean, not more than fifty yards away. Ahhh. This is the life, she thought. Despite the fact that she was here because of her sense of duty, Molly vowed to herself that she would make the most of this tropical getaway. Roger had told her that the break would do her good, and as usual, with the thought of Roger – handsome, charismatic, Roger- a lump of emotion clogged her throat. It was all too new, too fresh to be anything except an open wound.
“Would you like another drink, Miss?” The native bartender looked at her as he wiped down the bar. He noticed the sadness in her pale blue eyes and shook his head. A woman so young and beautiful should not have such sadness. It wrenched at his old heart. She wasn’t the first to come to Kauai to heal, though he was almost certain it was her first time on the island. She did not have the look of a well-traveled woman. She looked like she was more comfortable in her own familiar surroundings. When she didn’t respond, he prodded gently, “Miss?”
Startled by the offer- because she’d almost forgotten that she was drinking alcohol, Molly nodded. She had read a lot about Kauai and knew that the locals were very friendly. Nonchalantly, she glanced down at her large straw purse where a copy of Travel Magazine (one of her few secret vices) was safely tucked.
“Thank you,” she said politely as the bartender put the blue drink in front of her. At this rate she’d be smashed by dinner, she thought.
“This your first time in Kauai?” He was being friendly again, though Molly wasn’t here for the company. She was used to the solitude of her own thoughts. She tossed her wavy brown hair over her shoulder and looked him in the eye. She needed the practice. “Yes.”
“Well, Aloha, then.”
His friendliness was contagious. She raised her drink to him and returned the greeting with a warm smile, “Aloha”.
That’s how he saw her when he walked onto the sandy deck of the outdoor bar. She was quite out of place – so obviously a tourist that he had to smile. She had a big straw hat sitting on the bar next to her big, bulky straw purse. She wore a crisp new sundress and sandals that looked like they were causing her winter feet to blister and she sat up straight as a pin. Her skin was as pale as the white sand, her eyes bluer than the ocean. Her smile, though shared with half a heart, was a bit crooked. He pegged her as a Librarian and certainly not his usual type, but he was amused enough by the smile. He felt the gentle nudge of his body’s response to her as he took the stool next to her. He’ll just enjoy the company.
Bristling when the huge man sat beside her, Molly quickly moved her hat out of his way. “Thank you,” he said in a voice she thought was appropriately deep for his enormous size. She nodded in acknowledgement. Why did he have to sit beside her? There were at least a dozen empty stools around the bar; perhaps she should move to one of them, but then again that would be terribly rude. Sighing, she sipped at her drink, which tasted better with every sip.
She never went to bars. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Occasionally a few women from St. Mary’s went out for a drink and Roger always urged her to go. But other than a smoky cab with a grilled steak, the taste of alcohol did not appeal to Molly. Bars intimidated her anyway…so full of lusty, cocky men who always felt the need to approach her and offer themselves as part of the menu. Sometimes feigning boredom worked to deter them, but when it didn’t, her answer was always the same – no, thank you. She didn’t understand why they approached her in the first place, when her other friends were so beautiful and were more interested in their attentions. Roger used to tell her that she was more beautiful than all of them, but then again, he was biased. A smile crossed her face at the memory and then quickly faded as she recalled the recent turn of events. She stared sadly into the depths of the blue drink, past the chunk of pineapple perched on the edge of the glass.
“Carson,” said the huge man sitting beside her, holding out his hand in greeting.
Startled, her palm fled quickly to her chest as if in protection and she almost fall off the tottering bar stool. “Excuse me?”
“Carson – my name’s Carson,” he wasn’t the least bit annoyed by her cautious response. Librarians were not known for their friendliness. He figured she was from somewhere in the Midwest too.
The coincidence of his name and hers made her smile and relax somewhat. “I’m Molly. Molly Carson.”
He too understood the joke and returned the smile to her as he shook her hand for a few seconds longer than was necessary. His touch was warm and rough and dry – all pleasing to her delicate hands. She had to tug gently to retrieve her hand and consciously refrained from wiping his vibrant masculine energy off of her hand when he released her. His presence was distracting her from her thoughtful wanderings, as she was sure he was accustomed to.
“Where are you from?” He asked as the bartender handed him a Corona.
“San Francisco.” She didn’t mean for her answer to be so curt, but seeing the bartender try to hide a smile, she reminded herself to be more polite. “And you?” Practice, Molly, practice.
“I’m from all over, really. I have a home here in Kauai and in San Francisco, Dallas and New York.”
Interested despite her senses telling her to mind her own business, Molly asked, “Why?”
He looked her directly in the eye for the first time, delighting her with unusual deep green eyes flecked with gold. “Because I like it that way.” He said it as if the topic were off limits. Nosiness came naturally with an abundance of curiosity. Always did her in.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, looking at her hands. She looked up, her head cocked when she heard him chuckle.
“For what? That I like to live all over or that you wanted to know?”
“Both, I guess.” She didn’t know what to say. He was much too masculine, much too arrogant – at least she thought he was arrogant – for her taste. She wasn’t used to men like this. Despite his rugged handsomeness, she preferred a more refined, gentleman. Like Roger. The memory sent her shoulders drooping uncharacteristically.
Carson watched the emotions play over her face. He imagined that she thought she was guarded and uneasy to read, but she was wrong. He could see – even Sam could see! - that she was dealing with some sort of inner struggle. Made for easy pickings for him if he was so inclined. It wasn’t uncommon for people to come to the islands to heal from something or another. He wondered what her story was and then reminded himself that he didn’t need to get involved in someone else’s problems. Especially some clingy female.
Still, the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. “So what’s gotten you crying in your drink, Molly Carson?”
Annoyed and instantly defensive, Molly retorted, “I don’t know what you mean.”
“I mean that you look sad.” He didn’t want her to run away while he was still intrigued by her. “Man problems?”
She stared into the depths of the blue drink for a long moment. The tears that were so close to the surface these days threatened to make an appearance and she took a moment to compose herself. “Not exactly.”
“Sometimes it helps to talk to a stranger,” his voice caressed her like silk sheets on a cold night as he leaned into her, establishing his presence inside her personal space.
“Thank you, but no. I’m fine.” Recovered, she looked up and found his face inches away from hers, his gaze deep and intense. His face had character…a deep, dark tan and laugh lines around his eyes and mouth which told her he was probably quick to good humor. There was a tiny scar on his forehead, just next to his eyebrow, which had her wondering what had caused it. And those eyes – so sparkly and kind on the surface, but looking deeper sent a silent shudder through Molly. This man was not what he appeared. Oh, good Lord, he was handsome. She willed herself not to look away and prayed she would be able to breathe again soon.
“Suit yourself, then.” He pulled back into his own space on the bar stool, completely aware of her discomfort.
He took a long drink of his beer and she watched – oh how she watched, as his throat worked to take it all in. It was fascinating, really, and she felt herself grow hot just observing it. She had to look away, but not before she noticed a cocky grin on Carson’s face.
She was certainly a prickly one, he thought. But how a woman living in liberal San Francisco could end up being a prude, was beyond him. “Have you lived in SF all your life?” He found himself asking.
“No. I was born and raised on a farm in Idaho. Not too far from Boise.”
Well that explained it. “How’d you get to The City?”
She noticed that he had none of her reluctance whatsoever in asking questions, so she shrugged. “I was young and rebellious and wanted to get out of Idaho. So after college I accepted a job as a nurse at St. Mary’s.”
Carson had to hold himself back from the guffaw that clawed at his throat. What he had here, was a backwoods, old-fashioned nurse. He hadn’t been too far off in his assessment. He could certainly see her in her white nurse’s outfit; hair tucked tighter than a baseball and white squeaky rubber shoes as she took some old geezer’s blood pressure. It did something strange to him and he felt his loins leap at the vision. Humph. Who knew he had a nurse’s fantasy in his horny head?
Not certain what had caused that smirk on his face, Molly suddenly felt uneasy. She prayed to be sucked up by the sand at her feet, but knew that was too much to wish for. So she diverted his attention away from her, something she was quite adept at. “And you? Where were you born and raised?”
Suddenly serious, Carson stared into his beer for a moment. She thought he might not answer, the time drew out so long. When he finally spoke, his words were abrupt. “Born in Austin, Texas. Raised in a handful of states around the country.” It didn’t take a genius to see that he had had an unhappy childhood. Perhaps he was the one who needed someone to talk to. Her nurturing instincts kicked in – or perhaps it was the second Blue Hawaiian, but she laid a sympathetic hand on his dark, hairy arm.
“I’m sorry,” she said for the second time in fifteen minutes, which had him raising a dark brow in amusement.
“What are you sorry for now, Molly?” He stared at her carefully manicured hand for a moment before, he slowly laid his free hand on top of hers to keep her there. He liked the feel of her gentle touch on his hairy arm, even if she did flinch a little bit at the contact. It had been a while since he’d felt the gentle touch of a woman.
“I – well.” She didn’t really know how to say this to this handsome stranger and felt certain that anything she said would be insulting. The feel of his cool hand on top of hers was beginning to make her head spin. She was not used to such testosterone. Clearing her throat, she forged ahead, bravely. “I’m sorry you had such a – a difficult childhood.” There. She’d said it and he didn’t look the least bit angry.
Carson had good instincts too, and his told him to milk the sympathy route and he just might get to fulfill that nurse’s fantasy he didn’t know he had. “Wellllll,” he drawled out, taking advantage of the ten years he’d spent in the south. “I suppose it was no picnic. But I survived.”
So engrossed in the beginning of his story, Molly didn’t even realize she’d put another hand on top of his and was leaning into his long arm resting on the bar. “Tell me about it,” she breathed; now fully feeling the affects of the tropical drink.
“Well, now let’s see. I went to kindergarten in Dallas, third grade in Arkansas, fifth grade in Alabama, seventh grade in Boston, ninth in Montana and graduated high school in Los Angeles.” Acutely aware that she was now stroking his arm, he continued. “I went to college in Southern California and eventually took a job in San Francisco.”
“It must have been frightening for you as a child,” she was giving him her most sympathetic look and now her breast was actually touching his upper arm. He nodded soberly. “Why did your family move so often?”
“My father was a salesman and he went wherever the job sent him. He sold hotel supplies. He’s retired in Florida now.”
She allowed him the thoughtful pause and before he got too lost in his thoughts, she prompted him again. “And your mother?”
“Mom died when I was twelve.” This was getting a little too personal for him, nurse-fantasy or not. She seemed to have a way of worming her way into his head and he had to put a stop to it now, before his second beer.
“Oh - I’m so sorry!” She looked stricken, as if it had just happened yesterday and he was reminded of her earlier look of grief. That was it. Now he could name it. She looked grief-stricken.
“Aw, it’s ok. We managed.”
“How many brothers and sisters do you have?” She wanted to know more and promptly ignored her subconscious telling her that she was practically sitting in his lap and she must mind her manners!
“I’m the oldest of four. Two sisters and a brother.”
“And you were twelve when your mother died?!” She made it sound like the most horrific thing on the planet. “You must have had to be very responsible – taking care of your siblings and all.”
She was right. He naturally assumed the role his mother had vacated, preparing meals, washing clothes and shopping for his younger brother and sisters. Until his father married that witch of a woman, Eunice. But he was already sixteen by that time and had the independence of a first job and a car…until they moved again. He shuddered visibly at the thought of his crazy stepmother.
Feeling his pain, Molly pulled her hand away and ran it affectionately over his head and back, much the way she would console one of her child patients. Carson felt her ample breast against his arm as she tried to sooth him like a startled colt. He heard the discreet clearing throat from behind the bar, a reminder that it was time to redirect Miss Molly away from the personal details of his life.
“Have dinner with me Molly Carson.” His gentle demand was low and gruff and had the slightest drawl to it. He figured he had milked the sympathy routine long enough to have her primed.
As if she suddenly realized where she was and what she was doing, Molly snapped to attention, removed her hand and sat up straight as a pin. She blamed the Blue Hawaiian – oh my, was that her third sitting there on the bar? – It too was empty! She had no business practically laying herself all over this strange, albeit handsome, man! Horrified at her behavior, she attempted to stand.
“I’m sorry, but I can not.” She made eye contact with the bartender who came over as she fumbled with the contents of the large purse. “Can you please charge this to my room, Sam?” She asked, swaying ever so slightly back and forth.
“Which room is that, miss?”
“Five-zero-six-two,” she managed without too much embarrassment. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Carson. Good-bye.”
She turned too abruptly and smacked into the barstool and nearly lost her footing. He was up in a second, towering over her at over six feet. He gripped her arm and took her straw hat from the bar.
“Put our drinks on my tab, Sam,” Carson said, winking at his friend. “I think you need some assistance back to your room,” he said, guiding her toward the lobby elevators.
She thought about fighting him – really she did. He was a stranger and he was just looking for a way to get her back to her room. But common sense won, because she really did need his help. She would deal with him at the door if necessary.
Molly Carson couldn’t have been over five foot three, Carson figured. She was petite and slight, but he could feel her strength as she held firmly to his side. Her hair was in her face now – it was everywhere, really, and he resisted the urge to just pick her up and carry her to her room. He did have to remain somewhat professional in this hotel, since it was one that he owned; so he took the difficult path and simply helped her move one step at a time. She mumbled something about it being shameful that she was drinking at four o’clock in the afternoon and he didn’t have the heart to tell her it was already past six. It was quite clear that she was not used to imbibing and he felt a little twang of guilt over his assistance in that area. He almost laughed out loud at her filthy vocabulary, which consisted of a stream of words such as “darn” and “blasted” and “fricken”. On the elevator, she was startled when it moved, jerking her weakened body and she fell into his arms, her breasts pressed firmly into his strong chest. She flipped her hair back and looked up at him, aware of the contact their bodies just made. With lips slightly parted in surprise, it was all Carson could do not to kiss her wholly at that very moment. Luckily for both of them the ride was short and soon they were at her door.
“Key?” he asked politely, thinking that the sooner they parted company, the better. He was not interested in fighting off a drunk woman tonight.
“Key?” She looked at him, somewhat confused before it donned on her. “OH! The key. My key. Of course. Hmmmm.” She dug into her purse and pulled out one thing after another and handed them to Carson. Brush. Make-up bag. Tampon. Chapstick. Sunglasses. Wallet. “No wait,” she said taking her wallet back. “I think it’s in here.”
Successfully, the key fit into the door and electronically released the lock. She pushed it open and stumble-ran into the room, barely landing backwards on the king-size bed, her dress tossed up to her crotch. “Weeeeeee,” she said upon landing, further proof that Carson needed to get out of there immediately. The woman was smashed.
He
tried to hold out her personal belongings to her, but she took that
moment to turn over onto her knees and crawl, seductively (though he
didn’t think she did it on purpose) up to the top of the bed.
“I
– er – I’ll put your things here,” he motioned to the bureau,
where he knew for certain that her clothes were already neatly
unpacked and placed in it’s hefty drawers. “Are you ok then?”
He was nervous suddenly and felt that he could not be trusted to stay
in her company for very much longer.
“My nightie,” she slurred. He winced at the idea of some slinky piece of nothing, but went searching for it nonetheless. He felt a huge wave of relief when he found it neatly folded in the top drawer. Not a silky piece of material after all, but a practical gown of white cotton. On second thought, the image of her in the cotton aroused him much the way the nurse thing did, and he decided he’d had enough. He practically threw it at her and said shortly, “here you go. I’m leaving now so you can put it on. Good night.”
With that he was quickly out the door and leaning against the wall in the hallway. He let out a long breath. What in the hell had just happened? After regaining his composure, he headed back to the bar where he knew Sam was having a good chuckle at his expense.
Chapter 2
Two things proved to Molly that she was alive when she woke up the following morning. One, she had the worst headache she’d ever experienced in her twenty seven years and two, her stomach was both growling and rolling at the same time. She was hungry and well, she guessed, hungover. It had never happened to her before, though there was that New Year’s Eve with Roger when she had two glasses of champagne. That had given her a headache, but he assured her that everyone got a headache from champagne. Roger.
The memories came flooding back. The months spent at his bedside as his personal nurse…the many games of gin in which he never allowed her to win…and finally, that last jaunt to the hospital two weeks before. For weeks she had begged him to let her get him to the hospital, but he wouldn’t think of it.
“I want my own bed,” he argued, though as the hours passed, his protests became weaker until finally, she simply called the ambulance. But it was too late. He died in her arms five hours later. Sometimes, when she was feeling especially self-deprecating, she wondered if she had called the ambulance sooner, would he have lived? But as a medical professional, she knew she couldn’t take the blame. It was that maddening, incurable disease that took him, not the lack of proper medical care. And now here she was. In Kauai at his request, sleeping off a hangover. She could just see him, up in heaven having a good chuckle over that one.
A glance at the clock told her that she’d been asleep for more than twelve hours. It was after eight in the morning and she was still in bed. That was so unlike her – especially since the time difference meant it was really ten o’clock at home! The idea of food both revolted and summoned her. But first things first, she must assess the damage and to do that, she had to actually sit up.
The room shifted when she sat up and then turned completely when she moved her feet over the side of the big bed too quickly. Holding both sides of her face, Molly let herself rest after the brief exertion. She didn’t want to open her eyes again, but her will outweighed her self-indulgence. She continued to hold her head as she scooted her bottom toward the edge and eased onto her feet. With one hand on the bed for support and one on her head, she steadied herself. Poking one eye open, she scanned the room to see if it was still moving. It was. With a deep breath and muttered words of encouragement, she left the safety of the side of the bed with two very brave steps. On the third step, however, she bent over and clutched both her tummy and her head in agony. The bathroom was still a good ten steps away and she was certain she was going to lose the limited contents of her stomach before she made it to the toilet.
Several minutes passed before she felt strong enough to continue her journey. She gulped in huge mouthfuls of air, which seemed to help her regain some courage. Each step was a personal challenge as she gained strength with each success. At last, she was leaning against the marble sink, her hair dangling tangled into its bottom. She did it! When she was finally able to peer into the mirror, she was surprised at how good she looked compared to how she felt. Yes, she was pale and her eyes were red, but overall, she looked…well, she looked hungover. She even managed a gruff chuckle at the idea that Roger would have been howling at her if he’d been there.
Several handfuls of cold water made a vast improvement on her disposition and taking a few gulps of water from the faucet directly into her mouth eased the dryness in her throat. She was ready for phase two - the shower. However brief it was, it went a long way towards making Molly feel human again.
Having slipped her nightgown back over her wet head, Molly was attempting to detangle her hair when a brisk knock sounded at her door. She must have forgotten to put the “please do not disturb” sign on the handle the night before.
“Just a moment, please,” she muttered and made her way slowly to the door, still partially bent over in discomfort. With an apologetic half smile on her face, she opened the door, prepared to send the housekeepers away. But it was not the housekeepers that greeted her. It was a man – yes, the man from last night – and he was pushing a metal dining cart past her into her room. “Hello?” She questioned as he moved efficiently, setting the table and pouring her a steaming cup of coffee. He didn’t seem bothered by her haughty tone when she said, “excuse me?! What are you doing?!”
He whisked the metal cover off of the plate and paraded it in front of her nose. “Bacon and eggs and greasy hashbrowns…hangover food!” He exclaimed proudly and then felt immediate regret when Molly ran to the bathroom and vomited. “Aw, honey, I’m sorry. I should have asked how you are feeling first.”
Ignoring him, she ran the toothbrush through her mouth quickly to get rid of the taste and then whirled – if one could call it a whirl – around to confront him. She didn’t give herself a chance to realize that she was beginning to feel better. “I’m feeling horrible, thank you very much! Who do you think you are waltzing in here with food, assuming that I want any?! And don’t call me honey!” The last was said with a shout and an abrupt wave of the hand for extra emphasis.
She looked beautiful as she stood with wet hair in a see-through nightgown that clung to her moist body. His gaze was caught at the wet pucker made by her dark nipples and he had to drag his eyes back to her green face, which was turning pink with anger and now embarrassment as the moments slipped by. Her blue eyes were no longer hazy with hangover, but sharp with acute indignation. She was magnificent.
“Wait a minute,” she said, realization slowly dawning on her. “How did you get this tray of food? And did we,” her eyes grew wide in horror as her gaze flew to the bed, a prim hand covering her open mouth. “Did we…DID WE…??” She didn’t even know what words to use – it was too ghastly a thought!
“No, we didn’t,” he sounded disappointed and a little miffed that she would suggest such a thing. “Yet,” he added, hoping to see her flare up again. “And as for the tray, I have connections here at the hotel.” He decided to leave it at that for now.
“Yet? What do you mean, yet?” She could have cut out her tongue, but by golly she wanted this man to be attracted to her. It must be the remains of the alcohol, but he looked scrumptious standing there in a dark green polo shirt and white shorts that accentuated his already tan, muscular body.
He came closer to her then, but only trusted himself enough to stand a foot away. He reached out and grabbed a strand of wet hair and held it up to his nose for a long inhale. “I meant exactly what I said.” He looked her directly into her eyes. “We didn’t sleep together. Yet.”
She had to swallow the look of pure lust that she knew was evident on her face and to do that, she had to look away. Feigning incense, she brushed past him, into the larger part of the room. “You’re pretty confident, don’t you think?”
He let her have her temper, though she could see it was at her own expense. He was laughing in his eyes and it piqued her even more. With a huff, she sat on the bed, and then, as if realizing that would only seem like an invitation to him, flew from the bed as if it had burned her bottom and landed in the one straight back chair in the room. He laughed out loud then, thoroughly enjoying her outrage.
At last, he put her out of her misery. “Look, I just thought you could use a hearty breakfast to help you get over the Blue Hawaiians. No obligation. Really.”
Finally looking at him, she said quietly, “thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He turned toward the door and she had to fight the wave of disappointment.
“Where are you going?” She found herself asking.
“To work. I have a couple of meetings today. Just make yourself comfortable. I’ll find you,” he said the last with a grin before closing the door.
“Wait –“ She cried and since he didn’t hear her, she mumbled to herself, “what’s your name?” She felt she should know it, but she couldn’t recall it. Shrugging, she set about trying to eat the dreadful breakfast before her.
Carson had a meeting with the head chef, the Hotel Manager and the head of the housekeeping staff. Everything was running smoothly, but in his experience, he needed to check in with everyone to make them feel appreciated. He reviewed all the quarterly reports from each area and the projections from the reservations list. Business was good.
The following day he had an appointment up the coast with a building contractor, who would be reviewing his designs for a movie star’s mansion. Architecture was his first passion, but running his hotels was a close second, he thought as he sipped his coffee between meetings. He felt pride in knowing that he’d designed every last inch of the hotels under his signature name, Waverly. They were five star quality in both service and grounds.
Carson wondered how a young nurse from San Francisco could afford the price of this elite hotel that usually housed movie stars and rich notables. Maybe she saved her money. Or maybe she lived on credit. Either way, it didn’t matter to him as long as the bill was paid.
There was something that intrigued him, something that had his usually focused mind wandering to thoughts of Molly Carson. She was definitely different than Terrie or Nancy or Melissa – his more recent dalliances. Each of them was a glamorous woman with a super-model body, with careers and their own money, though they didn’t pretend they didn’t like his. They could all go from the golf course to a formal cocktail party, but there was a lack of interest on Carson’s part where they were concerned. They were too much alike. Too much his “type”, which had gotten boring in the past few years. And there was the issue that surfaced with every relationship. The “c” word. Commitment. All women eventually wanted it from him, even though he told them from the outset that he was not looking for a commitment. But they all thought they were different, that they could change him. He felt regret when he had to end it at some point when the pressure became too much. He liked his life exactly as it was.
And now he’s met Molly. A nurse from Idaho, for crying out loud. She was sexy in her own way, though compared to his other women, she would certainly be considered dowdy. She intrigued him - it was as simple as that. And he looked forward to wiping the look of grief from her eyes and replacing it with a look of passion. His work suffered for most of the morning as thoughts of Molly kept playing in his head. Seeing her in the clingy, wet nightgown had his body reacting with an urgency that he hadn’t known for a long time. Despite the voice of warning in his head telling him not to hurt her, he regretted that it couldn’t be helped. A woman like that was born to have a home, a husband and babies – nothing he was prepared to offer. Yet her allure was too strong to resist and seldom did he resist allure. So the impending guilt was assuaged with the notion that he would have her, but he would make it an experience she would never forget.
A knock at his door caused him to draw his blurry gaze from the sheets of numbers in front of him. He was ready for a distraction, and he also needed to stretch his long, athletic legs. Despite the fact that his chosen careers caused him to sit at long periods of time, his body was not accustomed to it and rebelled with tightening muscles in his neck and shoulders.
“Come in.” His frown turned into a warm smile as his Amenities Director, Leilani, poked her head in, followed by her tall, graceful body. She was an exquisite island beauty with a list of admirers nearly as long as the dark black hair that cascaded down her back to just above her bottom. She didn’t hide her adoration of Carson when they were alone, though he thought he’d made it clear that nothing would ever be reciprocated. Not only was she his employee, but she was young – only 22 – and the daughter of his head Concierge and friend, Gus. Besides, despite her physical beauty, he was not attracted to her in any way other than a brotherly and fatherly way. He’d known her since she was still in high school and regardless of her many adult accomplishments under his management, he still thought of her in a rather juvenile capacity.
“Hello, Carson,” her whole body seemed to breathe an air of grace and sensuality as she glided across the room and took the offered seat across from her boss. Carson was reminded that she had won the title of Miss Hawaii several years ago and still presented herself as if she held a carefully perched crown upon her head.
“Hello, Leilani,” he stood and paced the room several times, shrugging his shoulders and swinging his arms to get the tension out.
“You need to let me give you a massage,” she said as her eyes followed him around the room. Her first position with the Waverly Hotel had been a summer job as his most popular massage therapist during her college years. Upon graduation with a degree in Hospitality Management, she was awarded the position of Spa Supervisor. But during the year since, she had whipped the Spa into one of the most popular features of the hotel and still found time to assist in other areas as well; catering, event planning and kid’s camp. At her one year review, Carson created a new position for her, Amenities Director, and gave her a free hand at improving the guest offerings.
“And take you away from our guests? I don’t think that would be a very wise business decision.” He smiled fondly at her, adeptly side-stepping her offer.
She draped her arm over the back of the plush chair, pressing her voluptuous chest against the binds of the V-neck sundress. “Maybe we could schedule it during off hours.”
He ignored her comment and the way she carefully displayed herself on his behalf and launched into the business at hand. “I assume you’ve seen the article?”
Recognizing his determination to conduct business, Leilani opened her portfolio and extracted a copy of the article and dangled it proudly by the corner. “I have it right here!”
“To be written up as one of the top five hotels on the islands was quite a coo last year…but to now be considered one of the top five hotels in the nation from the leading travel magazine… well, I think a large part of the congratulations goes to you, Leila. You’ve done an outstanding job.”
Leilani nodded her head humbly in response to his praise, her long eyelashes batting a slow rhythm against her cheek. “Thank you for listening to my ideas, Carson. I love my job and I love this hotel. I want to make you proud of me.”
Carson sat back down behind his desk and took something from the top drawer. “I’m extremely proud of you, Leila. And in appreciation of all of your hard work, I would like you to have this bonus.”
“Thank you.” She reached across his desk to take the envelope from him, her movement just low enough for him to get a generous view of her cleavage. Coughing, he looked away.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” Carson tried to hide his smile. This was one of his favorite duties – employee recognition. When she hesitated, he waved a hand animatedly at her and gave up his serious pretense. “Open it!”
In a rare display of girlishness, she giggled and tore at the envelope. When she withdrew the check, she sat back in her chair with a thump, her mouth hanging open indelicately. “I – I can’t accept this, Carson!”
He laughed at her response, a deep rumble that bled out into the outer offices. “Of course you can. You earned it.”
“But it’s a third of my salary for a whole year. It’s too much!” Her eyes were wide with wonder and awe.
Carson stood again and came around his massive desk to perch himself on the corner in front of her. The old desk groaned with the weight of his substantial form. In all sincerity, he said softly to her, “take it. You worked hard for it and I’m pleased with the results. Consider it incentive to continue doing magical things for my hotel. I’m sure you can think of a way to spend it?”
Nodding excitedly, she brainstormed, “I could pay off my student loans…or buy a new car…or move into a better apartment.” The joy of seeing her delight made Carson chuckle again. She jumped up and threw herself into his arms, reminiscent of her teenage years when she would express her emotions the moment they occurred. “Thank you, thank you!”
He hugged her back and gently pushed her away when the hug lingered too long. She accepted his dismissal with good nature, even though she thought she saw a sparkle of attraction in his eyes. It was something.
“Now,” he moved back to his chair and turned the computer monitor sideways so they could both view it. “Let’s discuss the quarterly reports you sent me.”
Tomorrow. The thought drifted through Molly’s sun-drenched, hungover head, as she lay sprawled on the cushy lounge chair on the quiet cement deck, where a lush fountain of dolphins sprayed a cadence of water into the lavish pool. Tomorrow she would do what she needed to do and then she could schedule her trip home. She’d left it open-ended, since she hadn’t been certain how long her little mission would take her. The mission itself was simple, but the nerves she had to drum up to do it, was another thing altogether. She didn’t want to think about leaving this beautiful place just yet, but she had a life, pathetic as it may now be, to get back to and things that had to be done. Maybe she’d plan a trip to see her family. Maybe she’d plan a trip to one of places she’d always dreamt of going…Italy…or France…or Spain. Sighing as reality reared it familiar head, she allowed the dream bubble to burst. She didn’t even have a passport.
“You better turn over, you’re going to burn,” the deep voice was low and menacing and sent a chill up her warm spine. For a moment, she was reminded of gravel and sandpaper, though neither of those made her body respond so quickly or so feverishly. Removing the hat from her face, she looked up, into the sun and at the gorgeous male standing over her. He had on just the white shorts now and the expanse of his strong chest took her breath away. It was sprinkled with salt and pepper hair that matched his temple, causing her to wonder just how old he was.
“I can’t,” she managed feebly.
“Why not?” He didn’t try to hide the amusement in his tone.
“Because,” she sat up gingerly, holding a hand to her chest to avoid falling out of her very conservative one- piece swimsuit. “I can’t reach my back to put sunscreen on it.”
“No worries,” he said, plopping down on the chair next to her. “Turn over, I’ll do it.”
Molly chewed on the inside of her lower lip as she considered his offer. Already she was treading on thin ice by being near him, but to have him touch her…that seemed entirely too dangerous and liberal for Molly Carson.
“Molly,” he said, his voice low and meant for only her, “I’ll be gentle”. He spoke in a way that was kind and yet, provocative. She felt foolish for being so reluctant and decided to trust him. For now.
Carson had too look away once he got a glimpse of her tight little bottom as she turned over. He felt like a cad to be so turned on by such a sweet, innocent, that he nearly put down the SPF45 and ran. Almost.
His hands were both strong and gentle and his touch elicited a soft moan from Molly. It was heaven, having those hands spreading sunscreen on her back and down the back of each slender leg. She almost cried out when he was finished.
“How are you feeling?” He asked, trying to derail his line of thinking. She’d felt sweeter than he’d imagined as his large hand nearly covered two thirds of her back, and he almost convinced himself that he may be in bigger trouble than she.
“Better. You were right,” she opened one eye to glance at him, “the food helped.”
“You need lots of water too. I forgot to mention that.”
“Oh, I’ve been drinking plenty of water today. I wouldn’t want to get dehydrated in the sun.”
Of course, he thought to himself with a smile. That would not be practical. Allowing himself an afternoon break, Carson stretched out on the lounge chair, adjusting the seat so he could gaze at the ocean.
“Uh. Er. Do you want me to put some sunscreen on you?” She was simply offering to reciprocate his kind gesture. Really. She prayed he said no.
“Nah. Thanks. I don’t burn.” Eyeing his deep, dark tan, Molly decided that he had no need of sunscreen like he said. He looked like he was born in the sun, he was so vital and healthy and tan.
“Are you Hispanic?” The politically correct ethnic reference came out of her mouth before she could stop it. It’s none of your business, Molly! She was grateful that he could not see the color that rose to her cheeks.
His grin told her that he wasn’t offended by her nosiness. “Portuguese and Italian.”
“That’s quite a combination,” she smiled, her eyes closed and her head resting on her arms.
“I’m usually told that I’m hot-blooded.”
“Well, I should think so. Which side is which?”
“My mother was Italian.” At her nod, he lobbed the conversation back to her. “Let me guess your heritage…”
A blue eye popped open curiously as he pondered her with a long look up and down her body and then at her face.
She had a pixie-like face that was both delicate and stubborn at the same time. There was a faint sprinkle of freckles across her nose and cheekbones, though one had to look closely to see them. She had dimples at her cheeks and her eyes…well… “Irish and German.”
Molly propped up on her forearms and stared at him with her mouth slightly open. “That’s uncanny! How did you know?”
“It’s a gift,” he leaned over and intimately tucked a stray hair behind her ear, while she quickly tried to cover she cleavage view with a hand. His touch was like a blast of fire over her already heated body. For several long moments he kept his face close and moved her hair around as he looked into her wide eyes. It wasn’t that her hair was covering her shoulders, it was that he wanted to run her hair through his fingertips.
“You know, I’m not usually so remiss…and I really hate to say this. I’m so embarrassed,” she was beginning to ramble, a habit that had started in her youth when she was nervous. “I hope you don’t think that it hasn’t been a pleasure to meet you, but…”
Thinking she was going to ask him to leave, Carson set one foot on either side of the chair to do just that. Until she uttered her next sentence.
“But I’m afraid I don’t remember your name.”
Grinning at the reminder of her inebriation the previous night, he happily supplied, “Carson”.
“Car - Oh yes – now I remember! How could I forget, really? I mean, I told you that your first name is my last name, didn’t I? I was amused by it, but then again I’m not accustomed to drinking alcohol. Not that it isn’t amusing without the alcohol, but I think the alcohol made me forget…” She felt ridiculous now and couldn’t seem to stop the flow of words out of her mouth.
“Yes, you did mention that. No worries. You just had a little to drink last night, that’s all. You should enjoy yourself on vacation.” He felt movement in his shorts at the memory of her breast touching his arm. It amazed him that such a sweet woman could elicit such a surge of lust in him.
“You say that a lot, don’t you?”
Having forgotten what he just said, he raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”
“ ‘No worries’. You say that a lot.”
“Well, I guess I do. And I don’t. Worry, that is. I leave that up to the female population.”
“It’s true.” He’d meant it as light humor, but Molly took him very seriously. She sighed. “We women do worry a lot.”
“What do you worry about Nurse Molly Carson?” His voice was low and teasing and sent goosebumps down her spine.
“Things. My next job. Bills. Getting on a boat this week…”
“Are you looking for a job?” He’d wait to tackle the boat comment until he could think more about it.
“Yes…” Roger. Memories flooded her again, taking her off guard. “I’m currently between jobs.” She tried to hide the catch in her voice, but was not able to.
“Did something happen at work, Molly?”
She wanted to tell him about Roger…confide in him - in someone - and hear words of comfort. But it seemed to minimize the situation by talking to a stranger about him, so she just nodded. “Yes. It ended badly, I guess you could say.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. It’s their loss then,” he magnanimously lightened his tone to get her out of the funk he could feel her sinking into.
“No,” she whispered, “it’s my loss really.”
Sensing that she didn’t want to talk about it any more, he steered the conversation back on safer ground. “Now, about that boat…”
“Oh. Yes, well, I need to charter a boat sometime this week. That’s all. I suppose I’ll ask the Concierge.”
Smiling, Carson offered, “I’d be happy to take you anywhere you want on my boat. Free of charge.”
“Oh – I couldn’t.” She sat up and quickly covered her cleavage with her hand. “That’s really very nice of you, but it’s much too much of an imposition. You’ve been very kind to me already.”
Touched by her protest, he put a hand on her shoulder. “It would not be an imposition. I’d love an excuse to take my boat out. Really.”
“Well…” again she chewed on the inside of her lower lip, contemplating her next comment.
“Just say ok. Ok?”
“Ok.” Relieved, she laid back down.
“There is one catch, however,” Carson was quick to grab the opportunity.
Disappointment lit her face. “Oh. What is the catch?”
“You must have dinner with me tonight.”
Yes! Oh, that would be delightful! She paused for a long moment before she shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea…”
“Why not?” He didn’t give her a chance to answer. “You can make up for your abominable behavior last night.” At her look of horror, he chuckled low and deep. “I’m just teasing. You were fine last night, but I didn’t get to have dinner with you and I’m sorely disappointed.”
“I – ah, well ok.” She felt trapped and didn’t know what else to say or do. He seemed genuinely interested in her company, so she supposed it couldn’t hurt. But she would have to fight this growing attraction she was feeling for him. He couldn’t possibly be interested in her for anything other than company. Perhaps he was lonely.
After a half hour of comfortable silence, Molly began to get restless. She turned, then turned again, unable to be comfortable anymore in the plush lounge chair.
Amused, Carson merely watched her struggle.
“I think I’ve had enough sun for today.”
Not wanting his time with her to end, he inquired, “have you seen the water fall yet?”
“Waterfall? What waterfall?” Her look of pure delight made him grin.
“I’ll take that as a no. The waterfall on the eastern side of the grounds. It’s really quite beautiful.”
“Actually, I haven’t seen much of anything yet. I didn’t exactly feel like sightseeing this morning.” She grinned at him, and he was rewarded with the small dimples on both cheeks. It was endearing. It was sexy.
“Well, let’s go then! I’ll give you a private tour of the Waverly Kauai Resort!”
Glad that he wasn’t sick of her presence, Molly took his outstretched offered hand and gathered up her things. She tied her beach wrap around her hips and when she reached to fold the towel, he took it from her hands. With a nod of his head, one of the bar stewards who had been serving poolside drinks was immediately at their side.
“Hello, Andy. Please take care of Miss Carson’s towels, would you?” Immediately the steward took both towels and was off before she could close her mouth from the protest that was on the tip of her lips.
“Wow. That’s incredible service!” She was completely impressed, both with the fact that he knew the stewards name and that the steward was so quick to do his bidding. “I’ll have to mention that on my comment card!” She seemed very pleased and he still didn’t feel the need to tell her that he knew all of his employees names, so he just let her have her delight. It made him smile.
Their tour of the huge grounds took almost two hours. He seemed to know every nook and cranny. Set upon a small hill adjacent to the beach, the design of the hotel seemed to mold the landscape around the buildings. There were long, winding paths that took one through areas of such lush gardens, that it was difficult to remember that around the next bend was another building or an outdoor restaurant or bar. There were seven pool areas all together, some specifically designed for children, with rope swings and water slides. She was amazed that only several hundred yards away she had laid without hearing one peep from a playful child. The design was magnificent in the way it seem both expansive and private all at once. When he didn’t suggest they go into the kitchen, she was almost disappointed.
He was an excellent tour guide, who allowed her the perfect amount of time to ask questions and stop to admire the view of this pool or that flower. He told her about the history of the island and the design and lengthy process of building the massive hotel. He delighted in telling her that the architecture was actually modeled after a Tahitian style that seemed to fit in this tropical location. She was amazed by the hundreds of palm trees and couldn’t stop looking up at their magnificence. The way they swished in the gentle breeze was a soothing reminder of the beauty of this tropical place. When they reached the 200 foot waterfall in yet another secluded pool area, she let out a cry of delight. It was the most beautiful waterfall she’d ever seen. Well, actually, it was the only waterfall she’d ever seen in person. Even standing a good twenty feet away from it, she could feel the misty spray from where it pelted powerfully into the pool.
“I’ve never seen anything more beautiful,” she said with incredulous awe in her voice as she looked up at the flow of water bursting aggressively from the rocks, her hair flowing in massive curls behind her as her chin tipped up to the spray.
Carson had seen the transformation as they walked the grounds. She lost the grief-stricken look and her face looked younger, softer. She was captivated by his words and asked intelligent, thought provoking questions that he thrilled in answering. Her eyes were warm with interest and an almost business like respect. He felt more drawn to her now as she stared in pure, innocent wonder at this creation of his. “Neither have I,” he responded, his voice gruff as he took in every detail of her wide, appreciative eyes, her petite frame leaning against the safety rail and her hair, blowing behind her, down her back. She was all he wanted at that very moment.
She turned a radiant smile in his direction, as if thanking him personally for this miracle of beauty. He seized the opportunity and pulled her toward him by gently wrapping an arm around her waist. “Haven’t you ever seen a waterfall before?”
Molly wasn’t allowed enough of a moment to stiffen when he pulled her close and her body heated up the very instant their bodies collided. She had to lean back again to look at his face to see what this was all about. Oh. He was looking at her with fierce intensity and interest. It was a look she’d only seen manufactured in a movie when the leading man wanted to kiss the leading woman. It only took a moment for her to acknowledge that his eyes were searching her face for some kind of permission. She was terrified. This shouldn’t happen, her mind warned her. Yet, she was hungry for what she prayed was coming next. “No,” she said softly. “I’ve never...”
The sun was beginning to set, causing dusk to settle on the water. It seemed so right, so perfect, that he kiss her then and there. “Then you must be kissed at the waterfall, since it’s your first time.”
With one hand cradling her cheek, his head descended. His lips were warm and gentle on hers. It was a soft kiss. Warm and kind at first; a gentle nibble. She tasted of mint gum and suntan lotion, and underneath it, he thought he could taste her essence. It intoxicated him, made him greedy. He knew he should go slowly, but his mind and his body were battling a losing argument. He captured her lips in a long embrace, first the bottom lip and then the top trying with haste to satisfy the need he had to possess her in a single kiss. His hands found a home in her hair, weaving the soft tendrils between his fingers, while gently pulling her head back so that he could get closer; go deeper.