he wanted to see her again. For an instant he had wondered if her leaving would end up being the best thing that could’ve happened.
Damn it. Yeah, he wanted to see her again all right. But not like this.
2
THE HOTEL HADN’T CHANGED much in six years. Which was a very good thing because why mess with perfection? The lobby was airy and open, the fragrant scent of exotic flowers and salt water carried on the breeze that never failed to cool Mia off no matter how warm and humid the air.
She and Lindsey were headed to the Plantation Bar—by way of the sundry store to pick up a pair of sunglasses Lindsey had forgotten to pack—when they spotted Shelby walking through the lobby, alongside a bellman who carried her two designer bags.
“Look at her. She’s already tanned,” Lindsey said, shaking her head. The short pink sundress bared her shoulders and most of her legs, and a few more highlights had been added to her tawny-colored hair. She looked relaxed and happy, as if she’d already been here a week. So Shelby.
“Tanning salon,” Mia murmured and lifted a hand to get their friend’s attention. Mia had planned on using a tanning bed, too, but there had been no time. Up until her final day at Pearson and Stern she’d worked feverishly to make sure all loose ends were tied up and her one open case had been seamlessly turned over to one of the other junior associates. Then there had been some advance orders to place for the new business. Life had been hectic.
“Shoot, I worked up until the last minute,” Lindsey said. “I didn’t even have time to pick up some bronzing lotion.”
“I’m just glad we got some sleep on the plane.” They’d met up in Chicago and flown together directly to Honolulu. Since Shelby left from Houston, she’d come on her own. Having company, though, hadn’t mattered much to Mia or Lindsey. After chatting for half an hour, they’d both crashed for most of the flight.
“Aloha.” Shelby greeted them with a grin, her teeth particularly white against her tan face.
Mia noticed that she’d gotten a manicure, pedicure—the works—while Mia had been lucky to squeeze in a hair trim. “I hate you,” she said, eying Shelby’s strappy gold sandals and pretty pink toenails. “I really do.”
“Thank you.” Shelby glanced down at her tanned legs and feet. “I found the sandals yesterday. On sale, too.”
“We’ve already checked in,” Lindsey said, exchanging a glance with Mia. They both still wore their travel clothes, jeans and light sweaters, because Chicago had been nippy when they’d left that morning. “We scored adjoining rooms but they won’t be ready for another hour or two.”
“A whole hour? Bummer.” Shelby made a face, and then smiled prettily at the bellman. “Kimo, do you think we’ll really have to wait that long?”
His brown face split into a grin, and then he winked. “The assistant manager is my cousin. Let me see what I can do.” He put down the bags and set off on his mission.
His uniform included white shorts, and the three of them ogled his fine ass and muscled calves as he walked unhurriedly toward the front desk.
“I forgot how disgustingly healthy everyone looks around here, even in winter,” Mia idly observed.
“And how everyone seems to be related,” Lindsey said, and then turned to Shelby. “What a shameless flirt you are. Not that I’m not totally jealous.”
A smug smile curved Shelby’s lips. “Do you know if any of the guys showed up yet?”
Mia shrugged. “We were headed to the bar. If they’re here, they might be hanging out there or at the pool.”
“Oh, God.” Alarm widened Shelby’s hazel eyes. “You can’t go on the prowl dressed like that.”
“The prowl?” Mia laughed.
Lindsey rolled her eyes.
“Too bad we don’t know their last names,” Shelby said, “so we could see if they checked in.” Her gaze drifted past her friends. “Although if they don’t show, I see a couple of damn fine consolation prizes coming this way. No, don’t turn—”
Lindsey whipped her head around, and then abruptly turned back to Mia, her cheeks red when the two buff dudes wearing only swim trunks smiled at them.
“Subtle, sweetie. Real subtle,” Shelby whispered, her gaze averted, her lips barely moving.
“I’m going to get sunglasses,” Lindsey muttered.
Mia elbowed her. “Wait, here comes Kimo.”
The bellman approached, holding up three key cards.
“You’re a doll, baby,” Shelby told him, taking the cards from him and flashing one of her trademark smiles, before passing two cards to Mia and Lindsey. “Um, Linds?” Shelby whispered, leaning close to her friend, “you might want to get some bronzing lotion along with those sunglasses.”
FRESHLY SHOWERED and feeling rested from her nap on the plane, Mia left the other two to unpack and stake their territories while she went in search of an umbrella drink. The pool bar was packed with half-dressed people, lots of couples, but the Plantation Bar, which featured a view of the ocean, was shady, breezy and perfect. She slid onto a stool and studied the tented menu of exotic drinks.
The three of them sharing two adjoining rooms with a small parlor had sounded great in theory. It meant they had only two bathrooms, and while that setup had been fine in college, she was so not used to sharing anymore. But it was only for a week, and she wasn’t planning on spending much time in the room. Especially if spring-break Jeff showed up.
And if he didn’t…oh, well. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t be bummed if their Facebook shout-out went unanswered. Even if Jeff did show up, he might not be as tall as she remembered, or broad and hunky with thick sun-kissed hair. She couldn’t recall if he’d told her what his major had been, or if he’d shared his interests or much of anything else. They’d both been tipsy that night they met at the pool party—him more than her—and there had been a lot more kissing than conversation.
The swarthy, smiling bartender approached to take her order, and she settled on a blue fruity concoction, based solely on the pretty picture, and then swiveled around to gaze toward the beach. Aside from more couples stretched out on beach towels, there were a few groups of guys, but they looked young. One dude wearing a pair of red floral swim trunks and no shirt caught her attention. He was standing at an outside table where the bar met the sand. He had the same build as Jeff, except this guy’s hair was a bit darker and shorter.
“Here you go,” the bartender said, and she twisted around to find the tall, frothy drink garnished with a cherry, pineapple wedge and yellow paper umbrella. “Do you want to sign this to your room or keep a tab open?”
“I’ll sign for it now.” She grinned at the fancy cocktail. She wouldn’t be caught dead ordering something this froufrou in Manhattan.
She plucked the cherry first and popped it into her mouth before using both hands to pick up the odd-shaped glass. The only other people sitting at the bar was a couple huddled at the far end who’d been talking to the bartender. As she struggled with her first
