Saturday morning rolls around. After a contentious staff meeting with Rob and Britta the day before where they finally admit I’m right—well, that Keeley is right—about the Stowe heirs and their emotional detachment from their late mother’s estate, I’m happy to avoid the office for a couple of days.
Following a light breakfast my luscious houseguest insists on cooking, she contorts herself on the lanai in a way that makes me scratch my head. Then we leave. She walks beside me, toward my car. Her small denim shorts cup her ass, and I can’t stop myself from glancing down at her behind. Damn… She doesn’t seem to notice my ogling since she’s focused on our day.
As we walk, her fingers brush mine, and I clench my fists to stop myself from reaching over. Rob asked me yesterday what I wanted more, to keep Griff from landing the Stowe estate or dance the horizontal mambo with Keeley again. He wouldn’t take both for an answer. If I had to choose? A few days ago, the answer was simple. The moment my marketing assistant confronted me I felt less certain.
That confuses the shit out of me.
I sidestep Keeley and press the fob to unlock the car and open her door. I stand close. She has to brush past me to ease in. As I feel her breasts on my chest, she looks up at me, steadies herself with a hand on my shoulder. I get hard in an instant. I can’t look away.
“Excuse me,” she murmurs, sliding her fingertips down my arm as she sinks into her seat. Then looks up at me with big blue eyes.
I start to sweat.
After blowing out a breath as I round the back of the car and adjust my straining fly, I fold myself into the driver’s seat and we head out.
“Are you making any progress at the office about how best to approach the Stowes?”
I’m grateful for something else to think about besides her exposed thigh and the hint of cleavage framed by the buttons of her black blouse. I jerk my eyes back to the open road. “Some. We keep trying to come up with ideas that will respect their feelings about the estate while still showcasing its features. I guess Susan Stowe didn’t throw parties, but it would be a great place for gatherings since it’s on four acres and a lot of that land is a wide greenbelt overlooking the ocean. There are multiple pools, a massive kitchen, eight bedrooms. There’s even a detached ohana, so it would be great for honeymooners or spa stuff.”
“A what?”
“Ohana. On the mainland, it’s usually called a cabana or mother-in-law suite.”
“Oh… In Arizona, we call it a casita. But I get it. How do you tell these two siblings that their mom had an amazing house that will net them a fortune without making them feel stupid for not glorifying a place they resent? That’s the question.”
“Yeah, and if we don’t make a big deal out of the property, how do we get them top dollar for it? If they give me the listing, that will be my responsibility.” I feel like I’ve wrapped my brain around this delicate dance for days and I’ve still got no moves. “I just need to keep working on that. How did your meeting with Clarisse go the last couple of days? You learn about the body language of flirting?”
She crosses her right leg over her left, sleek thighs rubbing together. I notice she’s wearing some killer heels. High. Black. Slender. One tiny strap wraps around her ankle, emphasizing how delicate she is. Absently, she swishes her foot back and forth to the rhythm of the song playing on the radio in the background. Then she takes a deep breath. It thrusts her breasts out.
I must be hard up if her merely breathing is flipping my switch.
With a toss of her long, bright hair, she turns to me. Her lips are slightly parted. She’s wearing a shimmery, sheer gloss that makes it impossible not to look at her mouth. When her tongue peeks out nervously, it’s all I can do not to groan.
“I don’t know.” She flips a coy glance over to me, then glances down at my crotch. “It seemed like a bunch of BS to me, but I think it’s working on you.”
Wait. She’s been giving me some act?
“I’m horny in general,” I protest.
“Hmm.” She pauses thoughtfully over my words. “Maybe I didn’t learn as well as I thought, then. I’ll try harder.”
She leans in, elbows braced on the console as she lifts her fingertips to brush a soft line over her exposed skin, tracing the line of her collarbones then down, so freaking close to her shadowed, sugary cleavage. I want my hands there. My mouth pressed to her skin. My tongue laving that same path.
Why didn’t I drink her in the night I had her on the beach? She was open. She wanted me. But I was stupid and chose the quick fuck. I missed out on all the details that are driving me insane now. I really want a do-over. Or a do-again-and-again.
I bite back a curse and try to focus on the traffic as we make our way east along the coast. She drags the toe of her strappy sandal up the side of her calf, jerking my attention back to her killer legs. I imagine my hands sliding between her thighs to touch her wet folds, then my head between them so I can taste her. After she’s screamed her throat raw and is convinced she’s sated, then I’ll slide my hips between her legs and fill her pussy with every inch—
“Maxon?” she murmurs. It’s breathy, like she’s beginning to feel aroused.
I glance at her face. She purses her lips just slightly, as if she’s deep in thought. But her cheeks are flushed. When she lifts her gaze to mine, I can’t look away. Are her pupils dilated?
“Yeah,” I choke out, gripping the steering wheel in a fight for control.
Suddenly, she tosses her head back and laughs. “Gotcha! My body language is totally turning you on. You ought to see your face. If I encouraged you, I think you might actually pull over, come across the console, and try to strip me naked.”
My cock thinks that’s a great idea. I don’t want to give her the satisfaction of admitting she’s right. And giving her that kind of power over me isn’t smart.
“All right. You learned well,” I concede.
I should probably shut my mouth, but she has to know she’s capable if she’s going to use these maneuvers on Griff. God, I don’t want to think about that. At least I don’t have to look at it.
Keeley gives me a giddy clap. “I had you going.”
She still does.
“Don’t do that again unless you mean it.”
As we roll to a red light, I zip a hot stare across the space between us. My eye fuck must have some impact on her because her breath catches.
“What do you mean?”
“Tease me again, and I’ll have you in my bed, stripped down, and taking the pleasure I give you so fast you’ll be dizzy, sunshine.”
Neither of us moves or speaks for a long minute. Is she reconsidering her no-sex policy? I’m praying to any god I think may help me get laid when I hear an impatient honking behind me.
I jolt. The light has turned green. Keeley is now leaning away, arms crossed over her chest and staring out the windshield.
The moment is gone.
I curse under my breath as I step on the gas. The car lurches forward. The rest of the ride is silent.
After another strained ten minutes, we reach the house I’m previewing for an overseas client. He’s a Chinese banker looking for a place to entertain clients supposedly. I don’t really care if he uses this as a party hotspot or a love shack. He wants a luxury waterfront showplace, so I’ll find him one.
When we reach the house, I stop the car in front of a plantation-style estate. On the first level, a lush lawn leads to a huge stone patio, which gives way to wide wooden stairs. At the top, benches line the lanai, along with lush plants and a couple of cozy rockers. A beautiful dining room table sits squarely under the shade of the patio roof with a swaying ceiling fan providing an extra nudge for the gentle trade winds licking across my skin. The view of the ocean is full frontal and 180 degrees.
I don’t see doors at the threshold of the house. Instead, the opening has been widened to accommodate a floor-to-ceiling accordion glass door. The effect brings the outdoors inside, right into the adjacent, open-concept living room.
In keeping with custom, we kick off our shoes before we head inside. Two huge bamboo sofas with thick tropical-print cushions sit perpendicular to the entrance. A matching block table separates them. At the apex, a wide chair designed for reading the day away while overlooking the palm-tree-and-Pacific heaven has been positioned like a throne. Every wall is white, except one covered in well-stocked bookshelves. Skylights abound. Ceiling fans turn in lazy circles, dangling on downrods from the soaring ceilings above.
A simple wooden guitar hangs on the wall beside a hall tree on our way to the adjacent bar area. The little space is kitschy. The cabinets are bamboo. Someone hung a grass skirt as a border with old forty-fives of Elvis tracks as decor. But somehow it doesn’t look old or dated. Surprisingly, it’s neutral and functional.
On the far wall, the kitchen gleams white with a few rustic exceptions. There’s a wooden island, a giant eat-in kitchen with an old-fashioned oval table, but a sleekly modern hooded stove, double ovens, and clean white subway tile lining the walls.
The place oozes charm.
“It’s…amazing.” Keeley looks around, completely wide-eyed, blinking, oohing and aahing, brushing her hands along every surface.
She’s in love.
I don’t blame her. Besides being beautiful, the house is cozy. A person could live here, relax here, while away their days in sheer bliss.
“If your client doesn’t buy this, he’s crazy. If I had the money, I absolutely would.”
I shrug. “I think he’s looking for something more modern. Something he can show off, rather than a place where he can hide away.”
I snap off a few pictures of the view, the dining, entertaining, and kitchen spaces.
“You done in here?” she asks.
“Yeah.” Is she suddenly in a hurry?
“Good.” She grabs my hands. “Let’s go see the rest.”
I laugh as she tugs me back into the entertainment space, then through wide double doors and into an airy bedroom. More white. More plantation-cottage vibe. Flowing white drapes flap in the breeze as they frame the open French doors. Other than flowered prints on the bed in neutrals, the room is soft and simple and comfortable. Multiple windows overlook the green expanse of grass and the ocean beyond.
A door at the back of the room leads to a bathroom with double sinks framed in marble and open shelving in the cabinets beneath, punctuated with bamboo baskets instead of drawers. Double mirrors, hanging pendant lights, and a bright atmosphere add the perfect touches. I like it.
Around a corner, I find a softly shadowed hallway, a huge closet, a king-size soaker tub, then another doorway. When I push it open, I find a giant walk-in indoor/outdoor shower made of gray lava rock. The walls on three sides protect anyone from seeing in, but whoever built this place was smart enough to cut an open window with a direct view of the palms and the ocean. There’s even a pedestal for bath items. Five shower heads line one wall that must be six feet long. A whole football team could probably shower in here at once and never touch.
“Oh, my gosh…” Keeley’s bare feet patter along the stone floor as she drinks it all in. “Can I just die here? This is…”
“Stunning,” I finish for her.
“Yeah. But not stuffy. Why would anyone sell this place?”
I shrug. “Hawaii is more of a destination than a residence for some people. They buy a house, thinking they’ll come here more often than they do. A few years slide by. They realize they’re paying taxes, maintenance, whatever…and just not finding the time or energy to come here enough to justify the money.”
“That’s crazy. If this place was mine, I’d forget ever going back to Phoenix. I’d live here and never leave.”
I see what she means. It’s secluded. Quiet. A stroll in gives me a sense that I should relax more, worry less, share this world with someone important. I glance Keeley’s way.
Dangerous train of thought…
“Well, we can’t stay,” I remind her as I grab snapshots of this bedroom and bathroom area. “Let’s see about the rest.”
On the other side of the main living area is another bedroom, similar in size and color to the first. This one is set up as a children’s room with two double beds, a big TV, and a pair of comfy chairs with a library of books and DVDs. The bathroom is smaller but stylish. More than adequate for a guest or two.
“So cute,” she remarks. “If I’d had this bedroom growing up…” With a shake of her head, she glances out over the expanse of the ocean. “I would never have sneaked out and found trouble.”
“You were a bad girl?” That surprises me.
“Terrible,” she assures. “When I was thirteen, my best friend, Betsy, and I toilet-papered the house of the cute boy down the street, then we took his bike, which he’d left on his front porch, for a joyride all the way to the end of the block.”
“Did you return it?”
“We did,” she concedes with a teasing grin. “But it was almost midnight.”
“Scandalous.” I shake my head as if I’m very disappointed.
“Totally. I followed that up at fifteen by sneaking out to study with some kids in my biology class at the all-night pancake house down the road.”
“You were worried about your grade?”
“No. There was another cute boy. He dared me to sneak out my window.”
I pause. If I dare her to lose those shorts and muss up one of these beds with me…
“Whatever you’re thinking, the answer is no.” She shakes her head.
“What?” I go for innocent. “I was just thinking that we should look upstairs.”
“Sure you did, perv. Let’s go.”
She follows me up, onto the landing. I walk beyond the delicate chair and small table with the glowing lamp, then push open the double doors. A humongous bed on a raised wooden dais sits majestically under a teak ceiling. Just like the floor below, the usual doors have been removed in favor of a sliding glass wall that’s been shoved off to one side, allowing open skies and the Pacific breeze to stream in.
“Holy ocean view…” Keeley whispers beside me.
“Yeah.” Nothing but blue water, white sand, green grass, and swaying palms. It really is perfect.
Through the opening, a deck jets out onto the rooftop covering the lanai directly below. A round table, chairs for two, and a chaise take up the space. The vistas go on forever. I’ve lived on Maui for so long that I often think I’m immune to the sights of beautiful tropical beaches. I joke sometimes that I’m going to vacation in Alaska for a change of pace. Then a place like this comes along and reminds me why I didn’t move back to the mainland when I had the chance.
You just can’t beat Maui. It’s not perfect, but it’s damn well become home.
In fact, if I had my own family, I wouldn’t mind calling this particular place my home.
Keeley seems to float to the edge of the railing and stare out at the unobstructed views. I know in my head that there are neighbors nearby, but they’re far out of sight. Someone planted palms years ago along the property line so the illusion of being utterly alone with nature is completely maintained.
“Just…wow.”
I couldn’t agree more. I see beautiful places every day. I deal in them. I never look at anything that isn’t gorgeous. But this is special. Homey. “I know.”
“Not to depress myself, but what does a place like this cost?”
“About five and a half million. It would be more, except it’s only three bedrooms and three thousand square feet.”
“Only?” She snorts. “I could put four of my last apartment in here and still have room leftover.”
She isn’t exaggerating. I saw it as we moved her out and wondered how the hell she didn’t trip over her own two feet in there.
“I can see this as a bed and breakfast. It would be cozy and quaint. Exactly what I wanted…” Her face looks wistful, but her posture is completely defeated. “There’s no way I can come up with that kind of money.”
“There are less expensive places on the water. If you find something with good bones, you can fix it up and give it the kind of charm you want, especially if you’re handy or an out-of-the-box thinker.”
Keeley bobs her head. “Yeah…but I don’t know if I can ever accomplish this.”
“Don’t give up before you start,” I murmur as I step behind her at the railing.
It’s all I can do to keep my hands off her. I want to touch her—that’s a given. But I’d like to comfort her, too. Tell her I’ll help her and that it’s going to be all right.
I refuse to make a promise I can’t keep.
“Did you say this place has a detached ohana?” she asks.
“It does, but it needs work from what I read.”
“Can we see it?”
I shrug. “Sure. Follow me.”
On our way out of the room, we spot a private dining room on the far side of the space with those fold-back windows and killer views. A kitchenette sits tucked in one functional corner. On the other side of the bedroom is a luxurious bathroom that’s all sleek and teak and glass. Spa-like and lush. Like something out of a magazine.
After snapping photos, I pull Keeley out of the room reluctantly. We wend our way through the house, retrieve our shoes, then head around back. A stunning infinity-edge pool is situated between the main structure and the ohana, seeming to drop off right into the ocean. It’s an optical illusion I don’t think I’d ever get tired of if I lived here. The deck has a tropical feel with waterfalls, palm trees, and native stones. It looks almost like this man-made oasis grew organically out of the ground.
After grabbing more images on my phone, we stroll to the ohana. On one side of the structure, we climb its stairs, then open the door. Cans of paint and boxes of tile await. The ceilings obviously need repair since I see daylight, and the owners have a tarp thrown over a computer workstation against one wall, probably in case of rain. But it’s a wide space with double French doors and more of that amazing view.
“Morning yoga here would be so inspiring. It always centers me, but this would be beyond.”
I don’t downward dog, but I can imagine that any period of time up here in silence trying to commune with your body and thoughts would be a hell of a lot less trying if the view was this fantastic.
“So when you’re looking for a place of your own in the next few years, keep some sort of ohana in mind. With a little spit and polish, this would be a great asset to your inn.”
“Sure,” she says quietly. “That makes sense.”
But there’s no enthusiasm in her voice. Reality has set in.
A place like this is way beyond her reach.
After capturing the last of my snapshots, I lead her toward the car.
“Wait.” She looks back at the place as if she’s drawn to it against her will. “Can I go back inside? Just one more minute.”
I’m at her disposal for the rest of the day. If that’s what she wants to do, it doesn’t bother me. I’m weirdly fond of the house myself. “Sure.”
Keeley gravitates back to the family room, sits on the sofa, and stares out at the ocean. Before I can settle in beside her, she’s up and headed for the kitchen, touching the sleek, pale quartz counters. She visits each of the bedrooms and stares as if she’s trying to imprint herself with their memories.
This place has actually been vacant for the better part of six months. The owner moved back to Australia and paid a management company for its upkeep until it sells. If a house had feelings, this one would be lonely. And Keeley looks more than eager to keep it company. If I could simply give it to her, she would be its most ardent caretaker, I’m sure.
“Let’s go,” she suggests finally. She sounds more disheartened than ever.
After checking my phone, I take her to a few other properties around the island with ocean views. The first is another plantation-style house in white, so I’m thinking she’ll like it. It’s about half the size and acreage. It needs work, and the price reflects that. But it’s got nice bones and a good view of Molokai.
We tour the house in silence. Like the last one, it has three bedrooms and three baths. I admit, the kitchen needs an overhaul, the bedrooms are cramped, and the bathrooms are crappy. But the beach is awesome, very private. She could do worse.
“Well?”
She shrugs. “I’m just not feeling it.”
“I know. But I’m trying to teach you two valuable lessons.”
Keeley raises an annoyed brow at me. “You’re kicking a girl when she’s down, huh?”
“No, sunshine.” It hurts me to see her dejected, so I take her hand. I’m so thrilled when she doesn’t pull away. “Helping you see this through a business eye. First, when you start shopping for property for real, don’t look outside of your budget. It’s way too easy to get attached to something you can’t afford.”
“Yeah, I’m learning that lesson fast. You should have warned me to stay in the car on our last stop.”
“You would have ignored me,” I point out.
Her noisy sigh tells me I’m right. “You could take some of the blame.”
Her grousy attitude is kind of adorable. “All right. I will. It’s so my fault.”
“Thanks. I don’t feel better. What’s my second lesson?”
“Don’t look at what it is. Consider what it could be.” I lead her out the door from the family room onto the lanai. “This place could benefit from a fresh coat of paint. They’re selling it furnished, so that saves money.”
“A lot of this furniture is really beat up.”
“Smoke and mirrors. Buy some slipcovers, learn to reupholster. Add bright accents. You’d get the most out of this view by taking half the crap out of the crowded space, anyway. Spend the money to replace some of the old windows with an accordion glass door and maximize the view. That’s why vacationers come here, not for the sofa. That other stuff can wait.”
We walk the place one more time, and I give Keeley the more logical breakdown of how this property could be a moneymaker. She’s not having it. In all fairness, when she points out that none of the bedrooms have a view of the water, I can’t refute that. That’s something else customers want. Her realizing that enormous flaw is a bonus.
We hit the next place, this one about three hundred thousand more expensive than the last. It’s got five bedrooms…but only two baths—awkward for guests who don’t know one another. It’s smaller than the last place. Nicer views, sure. But the house is a turquoise-colored cracker box in need of repair with a giant satellite dish in the front yard.
“No.” Keeley doesn’t even want to go inside.
“The house has redeeming qualities,” I argue.
“I don’t care. The dirt road up here was so jarring I don’t even know how many teeth I have left.”
“You’re being stubborn,” I point out.
“You’re being ridiculous. Who puts this giant hunk directly between the house and the beach?” She points to the dish. The existing owners have tried to cover it by planting a bird of paradise…but there’s really no disguising something this ugly. “And it’s so far away from civilization. Is this place even connected to the island’s sewer system?”
“It’s completely off the grid, but you’ve got solar panels and a fresh water well that’s certified. If you’re looking to appeal to green-minded guests—”
“But I have to live here, too, and that’s a lot of hassle. Let’s go.”
With a sigh, I escort her to the car and drive her to the last location on our tour. It’s in Haiku, perched on the side of a cliff. When we pull up, the views are absolutely majestic but…
“How do you get down to the—” Keeley frowns as she looks over the edge. “There is no beach.”
No, just black rocks below, which guests would undoubtedly kill themselves trying to reach. “You’d have to see about building a great pool.”
“I doubt the ground is level enough since this place is built into the side of a mountain. Besides if I’m on vacation, I’ve come to the islands to feel the sand on my feet, to splash the ocean salt on my skin.”
I can’t argue with that. “At your price point, you have to compromise. This house has more than 180 degree views of the ocean.”
We head through the front door. The layout is immediately freaky because we’ve just walked into a disaster.
“Someone call the 1980s. I’m sure they want their kitchen back.” She’s getting tart now. Feisty.
“I’m just the messenger. This place is already close to one point four million. Three bedrooms, two baths, two thousand square feet. And hey, water, electrical, and sewer are part of the bargain. Besides, the kitchen isn’t that bad. Lots of windows. Good view. The marble floor is classic. Gut or paint what you don’t like.”
“Why is the refrigerator on the far side of the room, next to the breakfast table?”
I shrug. “You’re nitpicking because you’re still attached to the first place.”
Keeley doesn’t say anything for a long time. “All right. I am. I’m not sure how to get past that.”
“Time. Perspective. Thinking about what’s really important to you in a property.”
“But it was as if I could see my whole life at that first place, entertaining guests, walking in the sunlight, teaching yoga, raising children…”
Normally, I would pfft that and tell her to get practical. But if Keeley was more practical…she wouldn’t be the woman I know. And want. And oddly I can picture being in that big house. I can imagine living there with her.
Crap, I need to get my head screwed back on straight.
“Lunch?” I ask. “There’s a great fish place not far from here.”
She shakes her head. “I need to get back and study before we start working on…whatever we’re going to work on tonight. Tests begin Monday.”
“Sure.”
I take her home. She’s absolutely silent. I see the pensive thoughts roll across her face. Instead of reminding her of her own sage words—I understand wanting what you want when you want it—I reach across the car to squeeze her hand. She doesn’t stop me. In fact, she squeezes back.
I’m silently celebrating my small victory when we hit my front door. But the moment we enter my condo, she runs into the spare bedroom and shuts herself in. I hear the lock engage. I’m not sure, but I think I hear sobbing ensue, too. I want to comfort her, but I think she needs time to reconcile her dreams with the reality of property value on Maui. Besides, I’m pretty sure she’d tell me to fuck off.
When seven o’clock comes and goes, I still haven’t heard from her. This time is supposed to be mine. We still have so much about Griff to discuss…but I don’t want to be a bastard and add to her burden right now. I order some pizzas from room service in case she gets hungry, then take my laptop out to the lanai.
The view really is spectacular. Being out here clears my head. Even if I don’t have Keeley beside me, I can thank her for the appreciation of my outdoor space. That’s something.
But I’d rather be holding her right now.