“Her brother seemingly has no idea where she is. Or if he does, the two of them are putting on a hell of a show, because, according to social media, his new girlfriend is trying to set Corinne up with a co-worker and thinks they’ll be double-dating tomorrow night.”
Not conclusive proof that Parker’s pretty sister is telling the truth, but it makes her story seem more legit.
I stop and take in the full-frontal ocean view from the hotel’s lobby. Yeah, that never gets old. Despite three years of living on Maui, I’m still struck dumb every day by how beautiful it is.
“Did you get Corinne’s room number?”
“Hours ago. Just before I called, I sent you an email detailing everything I know so far. I’ll wait while you look, see if there’s anything else you need before we hang up.”
He’s being extra helpful and attentive, probably because he’s hoping I’ll take him on as a client. No can do, but I’ll make sure he’s handsomely rewarded if his information pans out.
Seconds later, I scan my email. Sure enough, Owen sent everything I’ll probably need in order to watch Corinne for the next forty-eight hours—or until I’m convinced she’s not BSing me on her brother’s behalf. After I commit her room number to memory, I end the call and head for the elevators. Halfway there, I stop dead in my tracks.
She’s perched on the edge of a stool in the bar, wearing a figure-hugging dress that clings to the tops of her thighs and shows off a tongue-swallowing amount of toned legs. The curve of her ass is impossible to miss—and even more impossible not to gawk at. Her dark curls brush the small of her back with her every move and gesture.
Where is she going all dressed up? And who is she going with? I wish I’d fucking asked Owen if she traveled here alone…
Nothing about Corinne gives me a hint. In fact, she looks almost out of place among the other guests who have obviously baked in the sun all day. Despite her sexy dress, she still looks so untouched—either by the rays or a man’s hands.
As she smiles, the bartender says something, likely in an attempt to flirt. She dips her head, tucking her hair behind her ear. I catch a glimpse of her lips, glossy and plump and so kissable. I can’t remember the last time I was this tempted after a mere glance.
I need to focus or I’ll fall for the first BS story she tells me, especially if it comes with sex. According to my brothers, that’s another hallmark of the Reeds. If we aren’t careful, we’ll think with our sex drives first. If there’s fucking involved, our brains come in a distant second.
She sips on some bubbly cocktail and scrolls through her phone. I don’t see her looking around for a significant other or even a guy to spend the night with.
While her attention is diverted by whatever TikTok nonsense she’s probably watching, I slip into a corner of the bar, half hidden behind a potted palm, and sit. It’s the perfect position to watch her.
A waiter comes by. I order a scotch neat. He brings it promptly and asks if I want a menu. Normally, I’d be hungry for dinner at this hour. But watching Corinne, my stomach takes a back seat to lust.
Around me, other men notice her. The guy two stools down is definitely eye-fucking her. He looks forty if he’s a day. Plus, his ring says he’s married. She ignores him. There’s another guy who’s clearly with a big party edging away from his crowd and closer to Corinne. Then the bartender, in between pouring patrons’ drinks, walks his stare all over her again.
They make me bristle. I find myself glaring down anyone who looks at her for too long.
Five minutes slide by. She finishes one effervescent drink. Her interaction with the bartender suggests that someone already bought her another. Corinne refuses and pays for it herself. Her brother is an asswipe and they share genes…but I admire her self-reliance.
Fresh drink in hand, she starts suddenly, then reaches for her phone. “Amali? What’s up?”
Since I’m sitting ten feet behind her, I can just hear her. If the music or the chatter were any louder, I couldn’t. Soon this place will be hopping and hearing myself think will be impossible. But now, it’s half-empty.
Corinne hesitates and listens to her caller, nodding. “You said something about a blind date, but you didn’t tell me you meant this weekend.” She falls quiet again, this time frowning. “Look, I don’t have anything against Craig since I’ve never met him. But I’m not free Saturday night.” The woman on the other end must be yelling, because Corinne rears back and jerks the phone from her ear. “I’m not blowing you off. And it’s not personal. Maybe another time, but—” Suddenly, she winces, then lets loose a long-suffering sigh. “What do you want, Parker?”
At the sound of my nemesis’s name, I lean closer. What is the shit stain after?
“Last time I checked, big brother, I’m over eighteen. I shouldn’t have to tell you where I am. The fact I’m answering the phone means I’m alive and well.”
I give her props for standing up to the asshole. Sure, it’s possible she’s figured out I’m eavesdropping and her rebellion is merely an act. But I don’t think so. Since she’s dealt with her brother her whole life, she must be aware that Parker is convinced he knows better than everyone and rides roughshod over the people he claims to love. He doesn’t care how overbearing his behavior is. He only cares about being right.
She sighs again. “No, I’m not available for a blind date on Saturday night, and that’s all I’m going to say. Tell Amali I’m sorry if there was any confusion.”
Corinne looks frustrated as she stabs her screen to end the call and shoves her phone in her clutch.
She hung up on her brother? Yes. She flatly ended the call without saying goodbye. Maybe she really is fed up with him…
The overattentive bartender asks her something. She shakes her head. A swing and a miss. Not thirty seconds later, the married man leans closer and tries to strike up a conversation. She turns, glances pointedly at his wedding ring, then shifts away. Another strike. A quick scan of the party guy in the corner tells me he’s going to make a play for her next. Corinne stands, drink half-finished, then grabs her purse and makes her way out of the bar before he can strike out, too.
I watch the swish of her long hair and the sway of her gorgeous ass as she heads across the lobby and disappears into the ladies’ room.
Party guy looks deflated.
I pay for my scotch and stand, then follow her. I have to admit that, so far, Corinne seems on the up and up. But the closer I am to someone, the better my BS meter works. Besides, slinking in corners isn’t how I get things done.
Since I’m here, we might as well have another chat. That has nothing to do with wanting to see her again or craving an eyeful of her in that sexy-as-hell dress.
I lean against a pillar and wait for her to emerge. Across the lobby, an old man ambles around the corner, cane in one hand, room key in the other. He scans the open area with a frown, looking lost. Tourists walk past him like he’s invisible. A bellboy approaches, pushing a rolling cart filled with luggage, but when the old man opens his mouth, the bellhop either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care and trudges by with a grunt. The elderly gentleman, dressed in a Hawaiian shirt, khaki shorts, and sandals with athletic socks, heaves a dejected sigh.