On the way out of the hotel, there’s no sign of the two hot guys we saw in the lobby earlier. In a way, I’m glad because I want to keep my mind on meeting Mr. Mobber. First impressions are important.

I’ve dressed for the weather, a colorful flowered blouse with a blue skirt. Wesley’s instructions were that he wanted us to meet him dressed casually, and while this is more along the lines of business casual, I’m not going to do anything to fuck up my first impression by ignoring him. I check, and Cassie’s dressed similarly, casual without being trashy.

Our cab driver is great, his smile nearly as broad as his massive chest. “Aloha. Hop in, ladies! You got yourself the best cabbie in town. I’ll get you where you need in no time.”

Cassie grins at the giant man, and immediately, she’s talking his head off. We start, and for the next twenty minutes, we’re treated to a spiel worthy of a tour guide as our driver points out the local spots.

We drive through a few tourist hot spots before we start to climb higher. The road wraps around a small mountain before dropping back down a little again, and I see a lagoon surrounded by what has to be paradise on earth. “Oh, my.”

“Wow, this is enormous,” Cassie echoes.

I can only nod my agreement. The road curves as we pass a pineapple grove surrounded by coconut palms. The land is huge, and it seems bigger than even the stats that Myra gave me. Part of it is the hill. It cuts us off from the relative urban setting of Honolulu, and the other natural hills, bathed in the warmth of the sun, give the whole property a secluded, special feeling. I can see why it’s a hot commodity.

The cab pulls up in front of the main gate, which I realize is just a line of banana trees. There’s a small gate, but that’s it. I can see a house in the distance, but I can’t believe it’s for real. We both climb out of the vehicle and pay the man before he drives off.

“What the . . .?” I say in wonder, shielding my eyes from the glow of the sun and staring at the thing in the distance. Even at a hundred yards away, it’s huge.

“That thing looks like something out of Gilligan’s Island,” Cassie remarks.

As we come up the path, I see what she means. The whole house looks like a giant multi-floored thatched roof hut made of bamboo, but like no other hut I’ve ever seen before. “How the hell did he pull off the construction? Shouldn’t the whole damn thing just collapse under that much weight?”

Cassie opens her mouth to answer, but before she can, we’re interrupted. “Hello,” a beautiful female voice says softly. “Are you Hannah Fowler?” We both spin to see a petite Hawaiian woman smiling at us. She’s wearing a tank top with a flowered skirt and a large flower in her hair.

“I am,” I say with a nod. “Are you Mr. Mobber’s assistant?”

“Something like that. I’m Alani,” she says with a nod, smiling softly. “And this is?”

She gestures gracefully to Cassie, and I’m charmed by her movements.

“This is my business partner, Cassie White.”

Alani smiles. “Nice to meet you, Cassie.”

“Aloha,” Cassie says, but I have to cringe as her natural twang turns the greeting into some sort of parody of itself.

Alani, however, seems amused, and she chuckles softly. It’s like everything this woman says or does is soft and graceful. “If you would come this way, Wesley’s been expecting you.”

“Are we late?” I ask, checking my watch as Alani leads us down the path. Past the banana trees, there’s a well-groomed lawn and rows of other bushes and trees that I’m sure are some sort of other small orchard. “What’s that?”

She looks where I’m pointing. “Oh, that’s Wesley’s almond and macadamia grove. He does love his nuts.”

I stop and see huts in the distance off to the side and point. “Outbuildings?”

Alani chuckles. “No, that is my village. Wesley allows us to live off the land provided we work some here, too. We helped build this house.”

“I see,” even if I totally don’t. Isn’t sharecropping illegal? What the hell is going on here?

“There is much for you to learn about this land, and the special nature it has with my village,” Alani says. “I hope that you listen to what Wesley has to say and respect his words. It is . . . important.”

I note her words and follow her the rest of the way up the path. Huge pillars of native hardwoods rise out of the ground, creating the framework that the bamboo sides work between, and the whole thing is suspended a little way off the ground, probably in case of flooding. The windows glow with light, and I can see rolled up mats of probably woven bamboo that can be lowered over the windows to serve as shades or maybe even shutters of some sort.

“Wow, this is . . . different,” Cassie says politely, although I know what she’s thinking, that Wesley is exactly as described—different.

“Thank you,” Alani says. “This is Wesley’s pride and joy, and my brother’s too. He designed the water recycling system, and there is very little wasted water here.”

She opens the front door, and inside, I’m amazed again. Everything is airy, light, and open, with breezes trickling through the wide open windows. “Wow, this is a fantastic house,” I whisper. “I didn’t expect this.”

“You’re just in time,” Alani says. “Wesley is meeting with the other two guests.”

“Other two guests?” I ask. “I was under the impression that we had a meeting with Wesley to discuss the property. Was there some mix-up?”

“No, no. Come.” Her face is a mystery, and I give Cassie a worried glance, but she just shrugs. She’s right. Roll with it.

Alani leads us through the house to a room with two large double doors. She taps on the door once before pushing it open, the doors sweeping back on silent hinges to reveal a huge central room. The floors are lined in woven mats, and all around are carved images, I’m guessing Hawaiian idols or something, with the center of the room dominated by a huge fireplace built of volcanic rock.

Three men are inside, one with some kind of bird perched on his shoulder. That’s Mr. Mobber. It has to be. “Wesley, Miss Hannah and her associate, Cassie.”

“Thank you,” Wesley says, and the two men with Wesley turn around.

My jaw drops as I see the dark hair, green eyes, and memories from the night of Roxy’s wedding come flooding back. “What is going on here?”

It’s show time.

“You ready?” I say, turning away from the bedroom mirror and straightening my outfit.

I’ve opted for a blue blazer and khaki slacks, while Caleb chooses a tropical weight light gray suit. I figured we’d dress nice for the meeting—first impressions and all.

Caleb straightens his cufflinks and flashes a cocky grin. “Does it look like I’m ready?”

I grin and grab our keys while Caleb double checks his bag, and we head down to the lobby. On the way, I send a text to Oli.

Going to meet with Mr. Mobber now. Game face on.

He replies quickly, even though it’s gotta be late at night for him now.

I have faith in u.

We jump in the rented SUV and pull off, both of us quiet as we follow the car navigation to Mobber’s property. Coming over the hill, I’m shocked as I take it all in. The place looks totally self-sufficient—solar panels, windmills, and agriculture for days.

We pull up to the house, stopping at the gate. A beautiful Hawaiian woman seems to materialize out of nowhere, knocking quietly on my window.

“Are you Anthony Steele? she asks. I nod, and she breaks out into a smile. “Great, Wesley’s been expecting you. My name’s Alani.”

She opens the gate on the driveway and we pull through, pausing as she climbs in the rear seat. “I’m Caleb,” Caleb says as she gives him a polite smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

She smiles and orders me to pull around to the back to park.

“Are you his secretary?” Caleb asks, and I can tell he’s attracted to her.

Alani smiles, chuckling as she shakes her head. “No. I’m his wife.”

Caleb and I exchange glances, and he mutters under his breath, “Shit, my bad.”

We pull around the house, park, and get out. “You have a beautiful home, Mrs. Mobber.”

“Please, just Alani. Wesley and I rarely stand on formality,” she says, leading us into the house. We follow her through the rather primitive looking kitchen before Alani guides us to two massive double doors. “He’s in here.”

The double doors open into an immense room, and I see a man, deeply tanned, wearing cutoff camo pants and a green tank top. His hair hangs down his back in large braids, and his eyes are closed behind the orange sunglasses he’s wearing. He’s sitting on a large woven mat in the classic lotus meditation position, murmuring something to himself. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he’s either trying to conjure up a nature spirit or Wesley Mobber is a Buddhist.

So much for dressing to impress.

“Wesley?” Alani says, and he opens his eyes, a slightly snaggle-toothed grin coming to his lean face. He raises his arms. They’re nearly skeletal thin but corded in wiry muscle as he rolls back and, in a nifty move worthy of any ninja movie, he kip-ups to his feet in one smooth motion. He snaps his left hand, and out of the shadows above us there’s a squawk, and a large colorful parrot or something settles on his shoulder.

“Anthony Steele!” he says, bouncing on his feet with an almost manic energy. With all the hopping, I have no fucking clue how the parrot stays on his shoulder without digging in its claws, but it does, and after a moment, he stops, walking forward and offering his hand. “Long days and pleasant nights!”

“Uh . . .” I reply, trying to figure out where the hell this man came from besides a mushroom patch. “Yes, Tony Steele. Nice to meet you.”

“Tony Steele . . . well, I hope you can show me your armor at some point,” Wesley says, not shaking hands but slapping palms. Up close, he’s got a scent to him, and I crinkle my nose. Whatever this guy’s smoking, it sure as hell isn’t on any DEA-approved list. “My man! Who’s your soul bro with you?”

“Caleb, sir. I’m Tony’s associate, learning the ropes a little,” Caleb says. Wesley smirks at the use of the term sir but shakes Caleb’s hand.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting another, but that’s fine. We got plenty of pineapple juice and more. Alani, can we get some refreshment for our guests?”

She leaves, and Wesley looks over our clothing disapprovingly, clucking his tongue. “You shouldn't have worn something so formal. It will just get dirty. I did say casual, right? Or did I say business casual? Hell, I guess it won’t matter tonight. We’ll adjust,” he mutters before waving it off. “No matter, you’ll do nicely for the games.”

“Games?” I ask, confused. “What games?”

Wesley ignores my question, grinning widely. “So, you guys enjoy the flight over? If you’d checked, your flight went right over the property.”

“Yeah, it was easy,” I say, and Caleb nods.

Wesley clasps his hands behind his back and gives us a look. “And the property? Beautiful place, isn’t it?”

“It’s a sight to behold. Love the self-sufficiency of it,” I say, relaxing a little and adding in some praise that I think would speak to Mobber. Despite a little awkwardness, he doesn’t seem too eccentric, maybe just a little weird. I don’t know what the previous prospective buyers were talking about and wonder if Oli’s info is messed up. Then again, most people don’t keep a damn parrot on their shoulder.

“Who is this?” I ask, nodding at the bird perched on his shoulder.

“Hmm?” Wesley asks. He sees my look and chuckles. “Oh, this is High Chief Moani Momilani, or just Mo Mo for short,” he says. “My lovable parrot, been with me twenty years. I take her with me almost everywhere I go.” He looks at the bird on his shoulder. “Mo Mo, can you say hello?”

I swear the bird squawks, “Fuck you and the horse you rode in on!”

Wesley chuckles, slightly embarrassed. “Um, she sometimes repeats the last bad thing she hears. My wife and I had an argument this morning . . . and Mo Mo thinks Alani speaks the gospel.”

Caleb and I laugh. “Girl power crosses species lines, I see.”

“Exactly. So, Tony . . . when was the last time you masturbated?” Wesley asks.

Caleb and I exchange identical looks. What the everloving fuck?

I struggle to answer. What the fuck do you say to that? “Uh, well . . .”

“It’s all about virility,” Wesley explains, looking as if he wants to take my balls out and inspect them for good measure. “I want to make sure you’re young and healthy. You don’t happen to know your sperm count, do you?”

I shake my head. Okay, change of diagnosis. This dude is fucking certifiable.

Still, I’m here to close a deal. “I take care of myself,” I manage to say. I’m glad I don’t have that drink in my hand. I might have spat it out by now. Meanwhile, Caleb’s trying not to laugh his ass off while I try to formulate answers.

“No offense, Mr. Mobber, but we are here about business,” I say, changing the subject before he asks me to pull it out and give him a demonstration. “Your property is uniquely beautiful. I understand you chose my family to be the one to purchase it. I’d love to have the opportunity to discuss what you see your estate as and what we’d like to do with the land if you do agree to sell it to us. My brother and I had a few ideas that I’d be more than happy to explain . . .”

Wesley shakes his head, clucking his tongue repeatedly. “I’m sorry, but we can’t talk about that until our other guest arrives.”

I frown. I didn’t know anyone else would be a part of the meeting. I don’t think Oliver did either. This isn’t the sort of thing that he’d overlook telling me. “Uh, what guest?”

Before Wesley can answer, the door springs open and my breath catches in my throat as I see the beautiful face looking at me.

“What is going on here?” gasps a voice I haven’t heard in over a year, but it sounds like honey in my ear.

There, standing in the doorway, are Hannah and a small brunette at her side with Alani standing behind them. Even after all this time, she looks demure but sexy as fuck in her flower printed blouse, her skirt showing legs that go on for days. Just like on the night of Roxy’s wedding, her big luminous eyes seem to call to me with their softness.

Wesley chuckles at our shocked faces, and I can hear his grin in his voice. “Those guests.”