Playboy in Paradise: The Complete Set Page 2

  “Well, I was heading up north anyway, so this works out perfect.”

  I look at him surprised by his word choice that seems almost deliberate. “Perfect, huh?” I smile knowing that I don’t really need him to confirm anything, but in a small way kind of want him to.

  He looks at me, tilts his head and smiles. “You’re quite the pot-stirrer, aren’t you? Do you always like to put people on the spot?”

  Now he’s making me feel bad. “No, I mean yes, uh … I don’t know. I’m sorry. I’m being rude. I’m a little cranky because I’m tired from the flight.”

  “Sarcasm is a defense mechanism. Do I make you feel defensive?”

  He’s watching the road and I’m unabashedly watching him. I lower my eyes to his arms, admiring the definition of his biceps and triceps working together with ease. My gaze travels further down past his elbow to his forearms where the muscles alternate in the tiniest of ways to manipulate his movements on the steering wheel. Then I notice his hands. They’re very masculine, strong hands with long fingers that seem like they could play every note to perfection—every one of my notes. I sigh aloud, feeling squirmy in the concept.

  “Mallory?”

  “Huh?” I didn’t just sigh out loud, did I? “Yeah?”

  “I was just asking you if I make you feel defensive, unsafe.” He smiles again as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking, which is annoying.

  Pausing to think about what he’s asking me, I shake my head before I answer. He makes me feel safe, maybe too comfortable for just having made his acquaintance. “No, I feel … this feels okay.”

  “Wow, thanks for the ringing endorsement. Well, would you still feel okay if I asked for your number?”

  I don’t know why this catches me off guard, but it does. It’s amazing how fast a boy with a little stubble, perfectly kissable lips, and deep blue, oceanic-colored eyes can make you forget your name and have you under his devilish spell. But the memory of airport girl rushes back too soon. “I don’t think your girlfriend would appreciate that you gave me a ride, much less my number.”

  He laughs as if what I just said is completely absurd. “Girlfriend?”

  “Uh, yeah. Remember the blonde you just left at the airport? The I’ll – write – you – everyday – and – text – me – when – you – land - girlfriend you just lip locked with before you walked away leaving her tears to dry themselves? Does that girlfriend ring a bell?”

  “Whoa! Voyeur much?” He accuses, conveniently turning the topic back to me.

  “Voyeur? You were making out in a crowded airport. Wait, don’t sidetrack me.”

  “You’re a cynic, Mallory.”

  “That’s very psychoanalytical of you to assume. But I guess I’m not sure how my cynicism has anything to do with you having a girlfriend.”

  “I don’t have a girlfriend,” he states, pulling that little smug smirk he seems to sport a lot.

  My mouth drops open at the nerve of this guy. My arms arrange themselves into a defensive position across my chest, and I huff out of frustration. “Seriously, you are so disrespectful.”

  “I don’t have a girlfriend!” His tone is firm, but he struggles to sound lighthearted.

  “Fine, whatever.” Turning my attention to the amazing scenery passing outside the car window, I decide pursuing this level of ludicrousness is not worth my efforts. I don’t even know why it bothers me that he won’t admit it, but it does. “If you don’t want to tell me, fine! But I think you’re being disrespectful to the girl you were just tongue fucking at the airport.” My anger flares because he’s pushed every one of my buttons and now I’m sitting here aggravated like an idiot over a guy who clearly doesn’t understand that women are not on this earth just for his amusement.

  “We hooked up a few times, but she’s not my girlfriend. I don’t do the relationship thing.” He says the last part like he’s not allowed to have a relationship.

  I look over at him, take a deep breath to calm my irrational behavior toward him and ask, “Why not? What’s wrong with being in a relationship?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with it, but I can’t do them. I gave up trying a couple of years ago. It wasn’t worth the headache or the heartache.”

  “Yours or theirs?”

  He laughs, and I take note of the great sound he makes. It’s genuine, as if it’s reserved for something that strikes him just the right way and then he releases it out with honesty. But deep down, I have a feeling honesty and Evan are not friends. “You’ve got me there. Probably theirs. It sucks being the bad guy.”

  “Then don’t be.” It’s hard to stay mad at him for some unknown reason. I’m thinking it’s because even though what he says should anger me, he’s authentic in his words. There are no pretenses.

  “Easier said than done, my dear. Years of hard work went into cultivating this bad boy image. It’s not going to come crumbling down over a girl anytime soon. So, I spare the chicks some tears and grief and try to play as truthful as possible.”

  The man sitting next to me is a paradigm, confusing in the most interesting ways. His words don’t match his mannerisms or the sensibility he so strongly projects, and yet his words are his truth. He’s being honest—at least more honest than he should be with someone he apparently is trying to pick up. Then another thought occurs to me, inspiring me to speak before I lose my nerve. “You’re telling me this so I know not to expect anything from you, aren’t you?”

  There’s the smirk, but watching him this time, it wavers before he speaks. He doesn’t rush to answer. His quick tongue waits for the thoughts to back him up. “I’m giving you a ride, Mallory, that’s all. Did you expect more?”

  “You’re good at turning the tables on people.”

  “And you’re very clever. More clever than most, I suspect. So I’m not going to fool you into anything. That’s not my style. Contrary to what you might believe, I don’t usually encounter much resistance.”

  “Oh, I believe it all right!” Wait! I might have just admitted something to him that I’m definitely not ready to admit to myself.

  He doesn’t say anything, but the knowing, self-satisfied grin beaming across his face says he understood perfectly. Damn it! He gets me all flustered. My phone beeping brings my attention back to the present, and I pray he doesn’t respond to that last comment. The text from Sunny reads: Stuck here a few more hours. Don’t waste your time here. Go to the apartment. The spare key is under the potted plant on the porch. Sorry.

  I text back: Call me as soon as you can. I’m worried.

  She’s quick to respond: I’ll call you later.

  “How’s your friend?” Evan asks.

  “Fine, but she’s stuck awhile longer. Do you mind dropping me off at her place? I have the address.”

  He looks over at me then back to the road. His tone is kind. “Why don’t I take you out for a bite to eat? I’m sure you’re hungry after traveling and then I’ll deliver you to your friend’s place in time to greet her.”

  “I’d like that.” My brain is not functioning properly because I know if it was then all of my instincts to protect my heart would be telling me to end this now. But since it’s not, I find myself being driven on a date. Is this a date? No, it can’t be because he has a girlfriend even if he’s not admitting it yet.

  He pulls into the parking lot of a palm frond themed diner. I reach down to the floorboard and grab my purse when suddenly my door is opened and he’s standing there offering me a hand. He may be trying to charm the pants off me, but I won’t fight against a polite gesture. Maybe it’s time for me to look past his surface suave moves and have some fun. “Thank you,” I say, taking hold of his warm hand.

  He follows me into the restaurant, also holding that door open. “After you,” he says, smiling. It’s a more kind, relaxed smile than before.

  After a few minutes perusing the menu, he places his hands on the table and intertwines his fingers. His eyes focus on mine, penetrating me more than I’m accustome
d to. “So, in the short time I’ve known you …” He looks at his watch jokingly, “… I think I’ve got you all figured out.”

  “Really? Let me hear it. This should be entertaining, if nothing else.”

  The waitress interrupts his ridiculous assumptions and we place our orders.

  He smiles then proceeds with an in-depth description that hits too close to home to admit to him. “You’re an only child who’s originally from a state with heavy winters on the Mainland. You’ve had boyfriends, but you’re currently single. You’ve probably never had a guy do his due diligence in bed thus making sex for you almost a chore instead of pleasure—”

  “No! What? I don’t … what?” My words stumble out of my mouth in disbelief of the gall of him to talk about my sex life. “That’s way too personal for you to be talking about.”

  “I’m just telling the truth and that’s what you like the most in someone—the truth.”

  “No one likes to be lied to,” I justify, shrugging.

  “No, but not everyone wants to hear the truth either.”

  I roll my eyes. Quite riveted by his summary of me, I close my mouth and act like this doesn’t bother me at all. Sitting back, I cross my arms over my chest and try to gain some control back from him. Without warning, he continues. “You can handle the truth even if it’s not pretty. But, let me get back to the good stuff. You like to make-out, but you make guys wait a pre-determined amount of days before hopping into the sack with them. That has nothing to do with the guy, but just to make you feel better about letting them into your panties in the first place.”

  “Please keep my panties out of this conversation,” I scold with disdain.

  “Yes, ma’am.” His arms slide off the table to his sides. “You’re a good student and ambitious. You don’t work because your parents saved all their pennies to send you to college and want you to ‘concentrate’ on your studies?”

  “Grants and scholarships,” I interject, correcting him as our food is delivered and set down in front of us.

  “I’ll allow the adjustment, but I find it funny that you choose to correct only that part of my analysis, meaning I’m not wrong when it comes to your sex life.” The smirk reappears and broadens in delight, but at my expense.

  My cheeks heat as humiliation creeps across my face. I don’t know if I should say anything so I sit there looking out the window and stew, but this time annoyed at myself. I shovel a big bite into my mouth to stop the smart-ass remark threatening to come out.

  “C’mon, Mallory, I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I’m just giving you a hard time.”

  I finish chewing and say, “We don’t know each other well enough to give each other that hard of a time.”

  “Okay then. How can I get to know you better because I really want to?”

  My mouth drops open as I witness earnestness wash across his face coloring him in a whole new light. “Tell me who the girl at the airport was?”

  “Her name is Kelly. She was vacationing here and we kind of … hooked-up.” He shrugs, dismissing any importance of the situation.

  “How long was she here on vacation?”

  He hesitates and for some reason that makes me nervous for his reply. “She was here for a week—”

  “A week! By the way you two were attacking each other’s mouths, I would’ve thought you were a couple for a lot longer than a week.” I’m shocked. This guy might be even smoother than I originally thought.

  “I never said I was a knight in shining armor. I’m not and I never will be. I’m way too selfish to try that hard.”

  His confession makes me sad for him. Leaning forward, I lower my voice and ask, “Not even for the right girl?”

  “The right girl? I’m one of those guys who believes in the right now kind of girl. I’ll openly admit I’m a relationship-phobe. These girls—”

  “These girls?” The way he refers to them is insulting. They’ve become of mish-mash of females to him, losing their identity once they leave the island.

  “Yes, these girls. I don’t lie. I tell them the truth.” He looks down at his food, shifting in the booth, suddenly uncomfortable in his stance. “I think I just lied to you.” He clears his throat. “I don’t lie to them about what to expect from me when it comes to a real relationship, but I do tend to send them off on a little lie. In my mind, it makes their long journey home more bearable.”

  “Because otherwise, they would be crying themselves to sleep on the plane? What if they didn’t? What if they used you just like you used them? What if they lied to you?”

  “The difference is I don’t care if they lie to me. It’s all inconsequential in the end. Obviously, in the time we spent together, it didn’t rock my world enough to change my course or theirs.”

  He’s sitting across from me and his shoulders ease, like a burden has been lifted. For some reason this conversation is cathartic for him. His eyes settle on mine, and as we look at each other, both unable to eat, I feel a tugging at my own burdens.

  “I’d like to take you somewhere,” he whispers.

  “Is this the same somewhere you take all the ladies to impress them before sexing them up?”

  “Sexing them up?” He tilts his head and looks at me like I’m crazy.

  “You know what I mean.”

  I can tell he’s already over the comment. After an awkward few minutes, I ask him about Hawaii and he tells me about some hotspots to check out. By the time we’re finished eating, he shifts, obviously preparing to close the dating deal. Staring into my eyes, he says, “Mallory, I’d like to take you to one of my favorite places on the island.” Here it comes, his out. “I’ve been honest with you and already said too much, but I can tell you that even though I won’t be a knight, I am a good person. I also promise to be honest with you, always. I’ve got your lunch.” He pays the bill as I mull over what he just said.

  His words hit me harder than expected. He’s telling me not to rely on him, but to trust him. It’s an interesting situation because I want to spend more time with him, but I really don’t want to set myself up for heartache. With the unfamiliar feel of the aloha spirit taking over, I find myself open to his proposal even at the risk of a little heart damage.

  My phone buzzes as we walk to the car. Deciding to ignore these typical girly feelings swirling inside of me at the sight of this too cocky boy actually getting his way with me, I answer the call. “Hi,” I say thrilled to hear from Sunny while sliding into the leather seat.

  “Mallory, I love youuuuuu.”

  Shaking my head, I close my eyes knowing she has to be on some strong meds for her to sound this out of it. “How’s your hand?”

  “My hand?” Silence takes over until she blurts into the phone. “Yes, my hand! It’s good. I’m feeling no pain at all. Now I’m going to sleep with Johnny.”

  “What?”

  “Mallory?” A strange male voice comes over the phone.

  “Um, yeeesss?”

  “Hi, this is Johnny. I’m a friend of Sunny’s. We work together.” He releases a shaky breath then explains, “She’s on pain meds and a little out of it. I know she feels terrible about this happening on the same day as your arrival. Are you settled in? Do you need anything?”

  So this Johnny guy is with Sunny and it makes me wonder if she’s safe. He seems friendly and she trusted him enough to have him at the hospital, so I guess I have to as well. “I’m fine. I’m, uh … out with a friend right now. I don’t think I need anything, but if I do, I’ll manage and I’ll take care of it. What can I do for Sunny?”

  “She’s good. Falling asleep right now. I’ll have her at my place for the night. Don’t worry, the doc told me she’ll pass out before the car ride ends.”

  “Don’t touch her—”

  “I would never take advantage of her. She couldn’t drive, and the doctor wanted her to be supervised because of the medicine, so she asked if she could stay with me before he dosed her. She’s told me a lot about you. Guess I’ll finally g
et to meet you tomorrow.”

  The name Johnny finally connects in my head when I recall her mentioning him to me and saying they were close. “Yes, she mentioned you, too. Okay, so you’re sure about taking care of her tonight because I can do that?”

  “She’s no trouble. A little mouthy sometimes,” he says, laughing. “But harmless.”

  “That sounds like Sunny all right.”

  “Welcome to Hawaii. Oh, and call this number if you need to reach either of us.”

  “Thanks. I will.”

  After I hang up, I realize that my plans just dramatically changed. Perhaps it’s fate that has made me available for the remainder of the day. I turn and look at Evan, trying not to get caught, which is difficult when he’s already staring at me. He smiles softly, with kindness, no trace of smugness in it at all. I smile then announce, “Is your offer still good?”

  The smirk quickly returns and he floors the gas pedal. I guess I got my answer.

  2

  Mallory

  Evan pulls up a long drive that leads to a mansion. Considering his cocky attitude, he would probably only call it a house. After parking to the left, near a paved walkway, he gets out and opens my door. With a nod over his shoulder, he says, “C’mon. It’s this way.”

  The path is shadowed by the house, giving way to an expansive view of the ocean. My breath catches and I’m in awe of the beauty of this vista. Wanting to take a closer look, I stop next to the large pool. Between where I stand and the ocean is a guesthouse with huge windows. And here I thought they only had those on trendy teen dramas.

  “I live back here,” he says, leading me to the guesthouse.

  I roll my eyes. Of course, he does.

  He slides the glass door open, and I walk inside. My mouth drops open in awe of the view through the two large windows overlooking the ocean. The sun is setting, which creates a glow that surrounds us making the view even more spectacular. “I can see why this is your favorite place.”