Chapter 3

Spike and I shared a bed and bonded.

He woke me by licking my whole face. “Ugh, dude. You need a mint.”

I stretched and jumped out of bed with my hard-on saluting my houseguest. His eyes moved lower, and he wagged his tail.

“Don’t get any ideas. I don’t swing that way.”

My shadow followed me to the bathroom, barking up a storm when I closed the door, denying him entry. “Go away, Spike. I don’t know you well enough to pee in front of you,” I said through the wood.

It was great having company, especially of the nonspeaking variety. After a walk, a breakfast fit for a king, and another walk, I decided to take the Jeep out to explore Lanai. Maybe while driving I’d see a lost dog flyer. Even though I’d hate to lose him, there could be a little girl or boy somewhere on this island crying over their missing puppy.

Spike spent the entire drive perched on my lap, his paws helping to steer. Every time I made an observation, he barked in agreement.

“You like living here, dude?”

“Yip.”

“Yeah, I could really get used to this place. So simple, you know? The biggest decision involves shorts or bathing suit, sneakers or flip-flops. But I guess you don’t have to make such huge decisions.”

“Yip. Yip.”

We drove by the Four Seasons, becoming familiar with the grounds before looping around and heading north toward the center of Lanai City.

At the sight of a wooden sign announcing WELCOME TO LANAI CITY, I said, “Huh. I guess we’ve arrived.” If you sneezed while driving down the main drag, you’d miss it. “I don’t think this qualifies as a city, do you?” I asked my traveling companion.

He wiggled his butt against my chest in response.

“Let’s check it out,” I said, pulling up in front of a store called The Local Gentry. Carrying Spike into yet another yellow bungalow, we stood at the door as our eyes took everything in. The tiny space was jam-packed with clothing, souvenirs, groceries, household-cleaning products, fresh pineapples, and even shoes. The only thing the items had in common: they were all made in Hawaii.

“Aloha.” A portly older woman pushed through a beaded curtain and walked toward us. Predictably, Spike started yipping while squirming in my arms. “How adorable. What’s his name?”

“Actually, I don’t know. He ended up on my doorstep. I’m trying to find his owner.”

Her eyes finally focused on my face, and she brought a chubby hand up to fan herself. “Oh, my goodness, you are gorgeous.” She jolted forward and for a moment I thought she was going to kiss me. I stepped back, shifting Spike against my abs, preparing to use him as a shield. My uneasiness went right over her head, and she continued to stare at me intently. “Good lord, look at those ice-blue eyes, that head of hair. You must be a real lady-killer. Tall, dark, and handsome is rare in these parts. You aren’t from around here, are you?”

“Um…no,” I said, taking yet another step backward. She continued to stare at me for at least a full minute, her brows pulling together as she did.

Please don’t know me.

Finally, she said, “Me neither. I’m Alice. I’m here helping my cousin Palu. I can ask him if he knows of anyone missing a dog.” I could see a family resemblance. Not to mention their taste in clothing.

“Nice to meet you, Alice. I met Palu when I arrived.”

“Can I help you find something?”

“You don’t happen to sell collars and leashes, do you?”

Her chocolate-brown eyes widened before she belly-laughed. “No, sorry. But…” She walked away and disappeared behind the curtain.

“Was that conversation over?” I asked Spike. He met my gaze, and I could swear he gave me a doggie shrug.

She emerged a few seconds later holding a length of rope and a black bow tie adorned with tiny pineapples. “Palu just received these. They’re made for children…the bow tie, not the rope.” She let out a cackle. “But it should fit him. You can loop this rope through for a leash.”

“That works.”

Spike sported his new accessory while I picked out a few more things for myself, and once I paid for them we were on our way. Palu’s cousin promised to spread the word and call Palu if she found Spike’s owner.

“You look very dashing, Spike.”

The ham lifted his chin in an “I know” fashion.

“Marshmallow! Marshmallow, where are you?”

The feminine voice carried, but nobody was in sight. At the sound, Spike’s ears perked up.

“No way, dude.” Our eyes met, his filled with embarrassment. “Please don’t tell me your name is Marshmallow.”

The responding bark could have gone either way.

Before I could open my mouth with my opinion of his real name, Spike’s gaze landed on something over my shoulder. Instantly, he squirmed and wiggled to the point where I almost dropped him.

“Dude, calm down.”

“Marshmallow!”

Turning, my gaze landed on…perfection.

Long brown hair with streaks of blond framed the most beautiful face I’d ever laid my eyes on. The bronzed color of her skin would have made for the perfect suntan lotion ad. Her pace quickened, pulling my gaze to two long, tanned legs as they swallowed up the distance between us. I was over six feet tall, so she had to be close to five-ten. Watching this knockout stalk toward me wearing faded denim cutoffs and a form-fitting white T-shirt had me uttering, “Holy fuck.”

Spike nodded and said, “Yip.”

Lost in a vivid fantasy of having those long legs wrapped around my waist, I came back to my senses when she stepped closer and her eyes widened. I waited behind my sunglasses for her to show any sign that she knew me. She stepped right into my personal space and took Spike from my arms without invitation.

Relieved that she didn’t have a clue who I really was, I took it upon myself to check her out as she reunited with her dog.

Having her beauty inches away knocked the wind from my lungs. Her tanned, flawless skin, honey-brown eyes, and full pink lips rendered me speechless.

In her arms, Spike’s enthusiasm reached an all new high. She held him tightly, allowing him to lap at her face while he yelped and whimpered. The most stunning smile spread over those full lips, revealing a perfect pair of dimples and a gorgeous set of perfectly white teeth.

When she finally made eye contact with me, the smile faded. “He is mine,” she said in an accent that wasn’t Hawaiian. Australian maybe? I needed to hear more of it.

“You’re not Hawaiian.”

Silence stretched between us before she finally said, “South African.”

So far she’d uttered six words, including “Marshmallow,” and each sounded hotter than the last. I kept replaying the way she had said that in my head. Her accent was sexy as fuck, and I had to stop myself from asking her to say all sorts of dirty things just to see how they sounded coming from her mouth.

The weight of her intense stare almost had me blushing. Shit, what was that about? “Um…his name is Marshmallow?” I asked, sounding like an ass.

“Yes.”

“I think I owe it to Spike to ask for proof of ownership just to be sure.” My joke died a horrible death. Again I was met with silence so deafening you could hear crickets chirping. “Tough crowd.” The more I spoke, the less amused she became.

“I’ve been looking for him for days.”

“I’m sorry. He showed up on my doorstep yesterday. I came into town to see if we could find out who he belonged to.”

“Where was that?” My confused expression caused her to add, “Your doorstep. Where?”

“I’m over on Hulopoe Bay.”

From behind my sunglasses I watched as she nuzzled his neck, causing his enthusiasm to renew.

“That’s really far, Marshmallow. Don’t ever do that again.”

“He really should have a collar on.”

“He ran off before I could get it back on him,” she snipped. Her feistiness affected me in more ways than one. Shit, I could stare at her all day. To be honest, I’d be into touching her, kissing her, tasting her all day as well.

She fingered the bow tie and raised her eyebrows. A small smile played on her lips, and I swear my cock twitched.

“I wanted a collar, but that’s all they had.”

“Well, thank you for taking care of him. I appreciate it.” She went to remove the bow tie, and I placed my hand on hers. The way she flinched and stepped away reminded me I was a stranger and touching her was out of line. But now that I had, I wanted to touch her more…everywhere.

“Um…please keep it. It looks good on him, kind of mans him up a bit.”

“Mans him up?”

“The poor guy is named Marshmallow.” At the sound of his name, Spike started barking incessantly, getting louder and louder. Pointing to the puff of white fur that was making more racket than a freight train, I said, “See, he’s trying to tell you he hates his name.”

“What’s wrong with Marshmallow?” Her accent thickened with each word she spoke. I could listen to her talk all day.

Over the high-pitched version of a Maltese throwing a fit, I said on a laugh, “Seriously? Marshmallow is a girl’s name.”

“It’s a food. Marshmallows don’t have a gender.”

Okay, she had a point, but still. “But still.”

Brilliant comeback, Landon.

“He’s white, sweet, and fluffy, just like a marshmallow.” She and Spike came nose to nose, sharing an unmistakable bond, the lucky bastard.

“Well, to me, he’s a Spike. But, hey, he’s your dog.”

Spike wiggled at the mention of his new name. “Can I say goodbye to him?”

“Of course.” Her slender arms brought him closer to me. When I reached for him, our hands touched and I couldn’t guarantee it was an accident.

“Hey, buddy. Thanks for keeping me company. I’m really going to miss you. Be sure to remember to brush your teeth before you kiss in the morning. Believe me, the ladies will appreciate it.” He barked and licked me in response. Bringing my lips to his ear, I whispered, “Make sure you put in a good word for me.”

I handed him back and said, “I’m Lance, by the way.”

“Zara,” she said with a shy smile.

I suppressed a moan at the sound of her name.

Zara. Fucking perfect. Wild, exotic, unique, beautiful…just like her.

I continued to stare like an idiot, wanting to spark a conversation, yet not knowing how. That was a first.

After a few awkward moments passed, she said, “Well, thanks for taking care of him,” and turned to walk back toward the direction she had come from, taking my new best friend with her.

She left before I could ask her where she lived, or what her last name was, or if she’d lived here long, or if she liked s’mores. I wondered how old she was. Did she work, go to school, model? Did she like shower sex or prefer a big comfy bed?

For a full ten minutes after she walked away, I stood rooted to the spot she’d left me at, wondering what she liked, hated, loved, or feared. She left me wondering what her laugh sounded like, or even her moans. I couldn’t help but hope to see her again, and if I did what would I do? In my gut I knew that I needed to forget that I’d met her, because after just a few minutes Zara had managed to completely distract me.

I argued that I’d met plenty of beautiful women in my life, and she was just another. Women complicated things. I needed simplicity. I couldn’t afford distractions, that would defeat the purpose of my escape.

Or could I?

No…nothing good could come of me pursuing Zara.

Except…getting to know Zara.

Shit.