She was keeping up with him, drying nearly as fast as he was washing. She paused though and looked at him like he was insane.
“They don’t volunteer to fix broken dishwashers, and they don’t do the dishes. You’re paying to relax and have fun. Read a book. You know, your favorite. Go to a movie. Sit in the sun and tan. There’s one of the most beautiful beaches you’ll find around here right out the door, and you can sit and stare at the waves.”
“Is that what you do?” He was curious about her daily life.
“I work.”
“You must get time off.”
“This is seasonal work for the most part. We’re at our heaviest time of year. I work when Marie needs me.”
“Honey, that seems like it’s pretty much all the time.”
She shrugged. “I don’t mind. And when it slows down, I take time for myself. I like it here. I have my own room and bathroom. The beach is right there if I ever get time to visit it, and I love to read.”
“What kinds of jobs do you do around here?”
“I’m usually the cook now. Marie always did it before, but more and more I’m doing it, at least for breakfast. We work together in the evening. Naturally, we tidy up rooms and clean them thoroughly after each guest leaves, although during the heavy season, we hire a crew to help with the rooms. It’s a good life.”
“And you meet all kinds of men.” Malichai didn’t like the fact that he felt jealous. He was happy he didn’t sound it, but he felt it, a dark, swirling, chaotic monster that reared its ugly head, shocking him at the intensity of that inappropriate emotion.
“I’m too busy to meet men, unless you count surfer boy.”
She gave that soft little laugh that pierced right through his skin and sent another lightning bolt zigzagging from his heart to his groin.
“And none of the others I met, including surfer boy, ever offered to do dishes with me, so I missed out.”
“I’m interested in knowing more about surfer boy. He makes you laugh.”
“He’s so stereotypical. The blond hair falling in his face. Never wearing anything but board shorts. A tan that is going to give him skin cancer in a few more years. The way he talks. Sometimes if he calls me ‘dude’ one more time, I consider tripping him as he runs up the beach with his surfboard tucked under his arm, looking like one of the television shows.”
“Does he actually surf?” Malichai took a deep breath and turned his head in order to look at her. Up close she was even more dazzling. More beautiful. And more potent.
She leaned one hip against the counter. “He does. And he’s good. I figure his parents must be very wealthy and they can’t take him calling them ‘dude,’ so they shipped him off to sunny California with the idea he’d drive us all crazy. Once we were all locked up, property prices would go down and they could come to California, buy all the real estate and send him to the next state with a beach and do the same thing.”
He laughed because she was so funny. “Your conspiracy theories need work.” This was fun. He was having fun. He was going to kiss Nonny for teaching him how to wash dishes.
“When you meet surfer boy, you’ll understand completely.”
“Does he have an actual name?”
“He’s taken a surfer name. He is called Dozer. And yes, if you’re silly enough to ask, as I was, even though Marie warned me not to, he will explain just why he has that name.”
“You’re setting me up to ask him, but I prefer that you just tell me. I’m not about to ask some pretty boy surfer who will call me ‘dude’ until I want to twist his head around so he’d face backward when he walks.”
She pressed the towel to her mouth, muffling her laughter. “I’ve wanted to do that very thing a million times. Okay, he dozes the waves. You know, like bulldoze. He’s the bulldozer and he’s destroying the waves.”
Malichai turned slowly toward her, although he knew it might be a mistake. He couldn’t seem to help himself, but he had to see all of her when she was in full-blown laughter. There was no mistaking the beauty of her delicate bone structure. Her form was all feminine, but he could see the muscle hidden beneath her soft skin. She moved with grace, her foot placement exact for balance and speed. He didn’t want to see those things.
He only wanted to see her. The woman. He wanted to be that man on vacation, who met the summer fling. The one woman who would seduce him into a long stay and he’d dream about the one who got away forevermore. That sort of hokey hogwash he’d heard about. Instead, he was very much afraid he was meeting Amaryllis, one of Whitney’s experiments.
Whitney had decided at some point that he would pair a female soldier with a male soldier. He felt between the two, they would be able to move in and out of situations that called for stealth. Men tended to be intimidating and noticeable. A couple was viewed as less threatening. He decided to give the couple complementary animal DNA or anything else that he decreed might help his soldiers succeed. He paired them so they could give each other blood if needed. He specifically targeted psychic improvements that went with his physical enhancements. Then, lastly, he heightened the pheromones between the couple so they would be intensely physically attracted to each other.
Malichai knew that Amaryllis was definitely beautiful enough and sexy enough to entice any man to her, but she was flirting—with him. They were working in a kitchen. His leg hurt like a son of a bitch. Maybe he would feel attraction toward her, but like this? Like this unrelenting ache that wouldn’t just go away? Like a need to feel her touch on his skin? Or her breath on his body? He swore to himself. He didn’t believe in that kind of physical attraction, not that fast.
“I look forward to meeting Mr. Dozer.” He forced himself to continue their conversation.
She pressed the cloth tighter over her mouth, holding it with both hands, her blue eyes alive with sheer merriment. “Don’t. Oh my God, you cannot call him that. Not in front of anyone. You have to keep a straight face when he introduces himself and calls you ‘dude.’ If you don’t, anyone within hearing distance will laugh and he’ll be so hurt. He’s really a nice boy.”
“You keep calling him a boy. How old is he?” Malichai was hoping he was fifteen or sixteen. He couldn’t keep wanting to deck a kid.
“I’m guessing he’s pushing thirty, but he seems like a kid. He’s happy all the time. Smiling all the time. The world seems like a wonderful place to him and when you’re with him, you feel that. In spite of the theatrical aspects of surfer boy, you can’t help but like him.”
He didn’t know about that, but he’d give it his best shot. Right now, he was going to get something to eat before he starved, and then he had to rest his leg. The girls had chosen the beach for him. A sunny, beautiful place. He’d watched them, Bellisia, his brother’s wife, with Zara, Shylah, Pepper and Cayenne huddled together over a table with Nonny and the three little viper triplets. All of them had given input, looking up places in books, and on the Internet. He’d promised the women he would go where they pointed. It hadn’t mattered to him. The choice had been random and it had led him straight to Amaryllis and trouble.