Kissed in Paradise (Valentine's Inc. Book 9)

by Crystal Lacy

  Fei raises an eyebrow. “Not a tour guide, no,” he says carefully. “Your friend booked this?”

  “Shit, maybe this is all a huge coincidence and I dialed the wrong number.”

  “Yeah, because I was supposed to pick up another guy named Cary who’s staying at the Hilton from now till Tuesday?” The sarcasm is obvious in his tone, but he’s got a small smile on his lips.

  “That sounds like me,” I mumble, then pull my phone out of my pocket again. “Here. Hold on.”

  I don’t even bother with texting, just hit the call button and put Bas on speakerphone.

  “How’s my Care Bear doing?”

  Of course those are Bas’ first words, the smug bastard. I glance quickly at Fei, noting the way he bites his lip to politely hold back what must be a chuckle. Still, he mouths the words Care Bear? at me.

  “I’m sitting in a car with Fei right now, and he’s—”

  “Fei?”

  “Yeah, Fei. The guy you—”

  “Huh, why does that name sound so familiar. Oh. Wait. Isn’t th—”

  “The guy,” I break in with emphasis, because it just occurred to me Bas’ memory is practically eidetic, and he probably remembers me mentioning Fei’s name once when we were sharing stories about figuring out we were gay and coming out to our families. That is something I’m not ready for him to share over speakerphone. “... you hired me. As a tour guide for my vacation in Hawaii. Remember how you texted me those exact words? Tour guide?”

  I pause to allow Bas room to explain, but for a moment there’s nothing but silence on the other line. Maybe this is all a huge mix-up and Bas is just as confused as I am. But then laughter rings loud and practically giddy over the line, filling the car.

  “Surprise!” Bas announces, sounding like a magnanimous prick whose ass I am going to kick as soon as I get within kicking distance. “Fei—love the name, by the way—is actually from a date-for-hire service. Hired, in particular, to show you a good time.”

  Holy shit. I blink at Fei, whose attention seems to be mostly on the road right now, even though we’ve stopped in traffic yet again.

  “Um. So. That’s what Valentine’s Inc. is, then.”

  I hate how gleeful Bas sounds right now. “Surprise,” he repeats.

  I groan, feeling vaguely trapped by the enclosed space of the car. How to politely turn down a date someone else has bought you? I should just come right out and say it.

  “Sorry, Fei. As you can see, this has all been a mistake. My ex-best friend Bas signed me up for this. I wasn’t the one looking for a date.”

  Chapter Two

  Fei

  This is just great.

  Cary Jackson, smoking hot high school football captain and the nicest jock you’ve ever met tumbling into my car for four glorious days’ worth of paid dating. There has to be a catch, right? And the catch, it turns out, is that Cary’s friend was pranking him. Which means my initial assumption Cary had to be into guys is probably wrong.

  Damn.

  It isn’t like I can afford to break the rules again and take things anywhere near where I want them, but it would’ve been fun to indulge in flirtation.

  “Your still-best friend Bas is awesome,” drawls Bas, unfazed even over the staticky speakerphone.

  “You hired me a rent boy. That’s not awesome.”

  Yeah, he is so straight. Has to be, to look so damn horrified. This is going to be so awkward. Also.

  “Not a rent boy, buddy,” I say, shooting him a quick, quelling look over my sunglasses before flipping a signal to take us into the next lane. “Escort, maybe, in the strictest sense of the word. I escort people places. I don’t do sex.” And then, because I am all truthfulness: “Okay, I do sex.” I toss him a saucy grin for good measure. “Just don’t do it as part of this job. In fact, it’s expressly discouraged in our code of conduct to have sex with clients. So not to worry. There’ll be no naughty times for us.”

  I have to make that very clear to him and to myself. On the off-chance Cary isn’t straight, it’s still a very bad idea to go there with him. I’m never doing that again. I’m still pretty bitter about the last time I hooked up with a client. I thought it meant something, and I thought we were both clear about it. The other guy thought it came with the territory.

  “Sorry, Fei,” Cary mumbles, seemingly contrite. “I didn’t mean it like that. Or, I did. But I didn’t— It wasn’t—”

  “Yeah,” Bas interrupts smoothly. “You’ve been totally schooled. Stop putting your foot in your mouth, Care. It’s an insult to my intelligence that you’d think I’d hire someone to have sex with you. I know damn well you’re totally capable of getting some on your own.”

  I’m not sure whether he’s trying to come to Cary’s rescue or just making mischief, but I have to snort at that. “Yeah, he really is.”

  “Thank you both for the ringing endorsement, I guess,” Cary mutters. “But really, sorry. I didn’t mean to offend. And for the record, I wouldn’t care if you have sex for money. I mean, I believe in a person’s right to do what they want with their body.”

  When next I glance over, Cary’s cheeks have turned an adorable pink. “You always were one of the good ones,” I can’t help saying, remembering every time he did me a kindness in school, from third grade all the way to twelfth. Even after that awkward encounter in the locker room that I could never, ever forget, he still remained a decent human being to me until graduation.

  “Always were?” asks Bas.

  “Yeah. Uh. Small world. Fei is from North Carolina. We went to school together. From third grade all the way through high school.”

  There’s a rather longer-than-usual silence as Cary’s friend takes this information in. “So, he is—”

  “Bas.”

  I’m navigating some mean traffic to get into Waikiki now, and I regret not seeing Cary’s face as he utters that one syllable. “What?” I ask, pretty sure neither of them will answer.

  More laughter from Bas. “Thanks for taking part in this amazing prank, my friend. I hope you don’t mind. I wanted to make sure my friend here doesn’t work all weekend, and I thought it’d be fun to surprise him with this.”

  “Sure,” I say. “Far be it from me to take offense when someone throws money at me. At least he’s not homophobic.”

  Cary makes a choking noise beside me, and Bas continues laughing over the phone.

  “Nope, definitely not. We wouldn’t be buddies otherwise, if you know what I mean.” Bas’ voice goes deliberately flirty, and Fei grins.

  “Sure.”

  “I did mean it when I said I didn’t want him to worry about work all weekend. It’s all paid for and, I believe, nonrefundable, right, Fei?” I make an affirmative noise. “So, Cary, don’t waste my money. Let Fei show you the sights. I’m sure as a fake boyfriend he’d be perfectly happy to play tour guide for you.”

  “I’d be delighted.”

  “There. Problem settled!”

  “But—” Cary attempts to argue. The abrupt static-free silence on the other line makes him stop. “Son of a bitch hung up on me.”

  We’re nearing Cary’s hotel now, which means we have to settle what we’re going to do. “Is it that much of a hardship to spend four days having me show you around?” I ask, hating the insecurity that hits me when I turn my eyes back to him as we drive into the hotel parking structure.

  “No, of course not. I just… Do you really want to play tour guide? When you were booked for a... What is this thing you do?”

  “Well, I work for Valentine’s Inc as one of their dating associates, or specialists, if we’re getting fancy. I’m an independent contractor, actually, but they have some on-staff employees in this location too. The company has branches all over the United States, which operates primarily on a dating app.”

  “What, like Match dot Com?”

  “Yeah, they have a huge portion of the business that’s just matchmaking services on the app, but there’s also the option of contracting
one of the dating associates—that’s me—to step in for dates.”

  “So other people have hired you to date them before?”

  “Mostly they hire me to be their plus-one to tedious weddings or to work functions. I had one guy who wanted to make an ex jealous. That was pretty fun.”

  “And now you have one guy who wants you to drag his friend around the island.”

  I can’t help grinning at how chagrined Cary sounds. “Hey, that sounds just as fun. Maybe even more than making an ex jealous, because then I won’t have to lay on the charm so thick. Okay, we’re parked. Now, I’m gonna have to ask you to decide what you want to do next. Personally, I’d like to give you your money’s worth. Maybe not the complete date experience. But I can show you around. Hell, I’ll probably even enjoy it.”

  Four days spent in my gorgeous high school crush’s company, even if I’m only looking and not allowed to touch? Sounds like a win to me.

  Cary blinks around us, as though he hasn’t been paying attention and only just now realized we’re already parked in the parking structure.

  “Okay,” he says slowly, his brows furrowed. “I think I’d like that.” He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing. “I don’t want to waste Bas’ money, even if he does have too much of it. And I’d like to catch up with you. Hear about how you ended up here.”

  I allow myself to smile, touched at his curiosity. “Wouldn’t mind hearing more about how you ended up here either, to be honest.”

  “Just like that?” Cary asks.

  “Just like that.” I open my car door. “Hungry? You can drop off your stuff in your room, and I can take you out for lunch.”

  I round back to the trunk and lift his suitcase out for him before he has the chance to protest again. He mutters a thanks, then glances awkwardly around.

  “Elevator to the lobby’s that way,” I say, nodding in the right direction. “I can wait here for you.”

  “Uh, I think I need to grab a shower, actually. Might be a while.”

  I consider my options, since waiting in a stuffy car in the parking garage is definitely not one of them. “I could hang in the lobby, or…”

  “No, you don’t have to do that,” Cary protests. “Why don’t you come and hang in my room. I’ll try to be quick.”

  The thought of being in a hotel room, mere feet away from a bed, with Cary in a shower naked and wet has me questioning my sanity in agreeing to come up with him. Still, I don’t refuse. “All right, sure.”

  Before we leave the parking lot, I pull open one of the back doors and lift my jacket off the bouquet of white and red roses I bought earlier at the floral shop. Might as well give them to their intended recipient, even if he probably couldn’t care less about flowers.

  Cary’s eyes go wide as I thrust the bouquet at him, giving him my smarmiest smile. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

  “Thanks,” he says, chuckling and taking the proffered flowers reflexively. He stares down at them, his expression adorably confused. “Sure you don’t want to save these for a real date?”

  I shrug. “You’re the only date I have for the next four days.” And probably for a while after that. I have way too many plans to waste my time on a real romance right now. Not after the last one turned out so well.

  We get checked in quickly and are soon standing in Cary’s hotel room, which has a queen-sized bed and a nice little kitchenette on the other end of the room. Cary even manages to find a vase in one of the cupboards to put the flowers in.

  “They look really nice,” he says, after he rinses them off and places the vase onto one of the nightstands. “Thanks. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten flowers before.”

  They look nowhere near as nice as you, I want to tell him. I settle for, “First time for everything.” I wink for good measure, which gets another full-throated chuckle from him. A tiny spark of satisfaction pings through me at the sound, and I know making Cary laugh as much as possible will be my personal challenge for the next four days.

  “So I’m gonna go grab a shower.” Cary gestures expansively around the room. “Um. Make yourself at home.” His eyes land briefly on the bed, and to my utter delight, his cheeks pink again. He clears his throat. “Be right back.”

  The bathroom door shuts behind him and shortly after that, the shower begins to run. I find myself taking a seat on the bed, which is soft enough my weight sinks me into the mattress. That makes me think of Cary and his big body on here with me, tumbling onto the soft sheets and really testing the bed’s limits. Cary would be wet from his shower, droplets of water glistening all over, begging me to lick them off and have an excuse to taste his skin.

  Fuck. I can feel my hardening cock nudging against the zipper of my jeans, and that’s not going to be comfortable if I keep up my train of thought. But I can’t help my mind from sinking back into the fantasies from my high school days. This isn’t the first time I’ve imagined Cary in a shower, but back then it was always the boys’ locker room, the same locker room Cary had caught me in with… what the fuck was the guy’s name? Dak, or Jack, or something?

  It was Cary I wanted, even back then. Cary, the nice guy who helped me pick up all the pink condoms someone had stuffed into my locker freshman year of high school. Cary, who offered me a hand up one afternoon during recess when we were in fourth grade and I’d scraped my knees trying to keep up with the other boys.

  Cary, who saw me suck another guy off but never mentioned it, never teased or tormented or even looked at me different.

  Yeah, this isn’t the first time I’ve fantasized about Cary. Now, with him naked in the shower and only a door separating us, I imagine how he’d react if I were to step into the shower with him and get on my knees. I wouldn’t mind getting on my knees for him, like I was stupid and desperate enough to do for his teammate. The shocked expression on his face when he caught us had made me feel both ashamed and horny at the time. I thought he was really tempted to take a turn; I almost considered pressing. After all, what guy doesn’t like blowjobs? Even straight ones.

  No. You’re not fucking another client, remember? Never again.

  Not that there’s any chance of fucking with Cary anyway. Just because he’s playing along enough to put some flowers in a vase doesn’t mean he actually wants a guy coming on to him. Just keep to flirting only, and you’ll be fine.

  When the water stops running in the bathroom, I jump off the bed and take a seat on the love seat across the room, willing my dick to go back down. I’ve succeeded admirably when Cary comes out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam and minty body wash—with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist.

  I can feel my jaw drop as my eyes devour the sight of him, soft downy hair on his muscled chest, dusting across a lickable six-pack and darkening as it trails down past where the towel’s tied around him.

  “Sorry,” Cary mumbles, shuffling over to his suitcase and hauling it up. He turns his back to me and bends to unzip the suitcase, which gives me an excellent view of his towel-clad ass. “Forgot to take a change of clothes.”

  Please slip. Please please please slip, I think at the towel. Oh, my fucking god, those shoulders, though. I shift in my seat and adjust my hard cock while his back is turned. I feel a twinge of guilt for taking advantage of his oversight to download this image to my memory for my spank bank, but seriously, who can resist?

  A flush is creeping up the back of Cary’s neck, the tip of his ears, and he lets out a sigh of relief when he manages to pull out a few articles of clothing. When he’s run back into the bathroom to get dressed, I let myself breathe again, groaning as I give my dick a hard slap to calm it the fuck down. I gave myself a soft slap on the face for good measure, because damn. Shirtless Cary in reality is even better than shirtless Cary in my dirtiest fantasies.

  Well, okay. Maybe not the dirtiest fantasies.

  I’m still not quite as composed as I want to be when Cary emerges from the bathroom again, this time dressed in a white lightweight V-neck and worn blue jeans. He l
ooks so all-American boy-next-door I just want to push him up against a wall and lick him.

  “Hungry?” I ask, clearing my throat and staring out the balcony window.

  I take Cary to a little Korean barbecue place called GyuKaku, which, thankfully, hasn’t gotten busy for Valentine’s Day yet. We manage to get a small booth to ourselves in a quiet corner.

  “I… don’t know what to order,” Cary says, staring at the admittedly pretty intimidating menu of à la carte barbecue items. “It’s all raw.”

  God, he’s cute. “Yeah, we cook it on this.” I gesture at the circular grill embedded into our table. When the waiter comes, I order a few of my favorite meats and a couple of appetizers for us to share.

  “Tell me how you ended up here.”

  I raise an eyebrow at him, unable to resist the urge to tease. “What, at a barbecue place? A friend of mine invited me out one night, and I was hankering for some meat, so—”

  Cary’s eyeroll is long and exaggerated, but his grin ruins the effect. “You know what I mean.”

  I shrug. “Our hometown isn’t exactly a great place to be me. My BFF, Bridge, lives here. We met online on a Dragon Age fan forum. When it came time to apply for universities, it just seemed like a good idea to add UH to my list of schools. The rest is history.”

  There’s a lull in our conversation as our waiter comes back with several of the dishes I ordered. I show Cary the various dipping sauces, direct him to use the provided tongs to position the meat on the grill, and take a thirsty gulp of Asahi beer.

  “What about you? How did you end up here? Just decided to take a trip by yourself, or is there a story there?”

  Over drinks and food, Cary tells me about his job interview for a high-level marketing position he’s applying for. It’d be a new venture for the company, which has many stores on the mainland but only one location on the island, not yet open to the public.

  “That’s a pretty big deal for them to fly you all the way here for a job interview, right? Must be a huge position.”