Almost Paradise

by Chris Keniston

  There were many ways Billy could have responded. Telling Nick to mind is own damn business came to mind first. Followed by why Angela didn’t deserve to be saddled with a disabled vet. And why he didn’t deserve her—or the life she had to offer. Instead he kept his mouth shut and pretended not to think about another man’s hands on his Angel.

  * * *

  Angela stared at the five outfits sprawled across her king-size bed. Just dinner. But where? The white capris with the red shirt looked good on her. She loved how she felt in the blue cap-sleeved sundress. Lexie couldn’t accuse her of dressing like a nun in that. It had a nice scooped neckline. Of course her mother had always said you can’t go wrong with classic black and a string of pearls. How ridiculous would that look if they wound up dining at Ben’s Burger Bar?

  “Blast.” Why was this such a big deal? Taking one last look at all the scattered clothing, she finally decided on the blue sundress. Casual enough for burgers and not too dowdy if they went someplace with lots of forks.

  Every step required talking herself back. Not too much makeup. Not so much perfume. Not the lacey underwear. Yet.

  Standing in front of the closet created a new dilemma—heels? Sandals? Sandals with heels? “It’s just dinner!” She was still staring at her shoe-covered floor when the doorbell sounded and she tumbled back as though the electric wires had zapped her as well as the chimes.

  Barefoot, she scurried out to the main room and hollered over the veranda, “It’s open.”

  In the time it took her to re-enter the house and cross the room, Kenneth Shepherd stood at the top of the stairs. “Hi, I’m almost ready. I just need my shoes and we can be on our way.”

  He offered her a pleasant smile, and she responded in kind, reminding herself she didn’t need to go all gooey inside at the sight of him. This wasn’t about love and marriage anymore. She had one objective in mind. Find someone she could have a baby with. And for now, that meant starting with dinner.

  Hurrying back wearing the beige heels, she accepted Ken’s proffered elbow and wished that big toothy smile made her think of something more romantic than a toothpaste commercial.

  “How do you feel about Chinese?” he asked. “Love it.”

  Once at the bottom of the stairs, Ken held the door for her and did the same at the foot of his Mercedes. What a difference from Harry the hula dancer. Most times he was in his seat and turning the engine before she had her door closed. Too often she wondered if he would have even noticed if she’d fallen out of the car on takeoff. “I’m hungry enough to eat a horse.”

  “Good. I like a girl with a healthy appetite.” And for the duration of the ride to the restaurant, Ken filled the conversation with his thoughts on modern advertising damaging young girls’ self-image. After all, most men, like dogs, prefer meat on their bones. She wasn’t sure how to take that. Did he think she was fat? Or did she need fattening up?

  Either way it didn’t matter. He’d moved on to overuse of MSG in foods—but not at the Beijing Palace where they’d be dining—and by the time they pulled up at the valet parking, she wondered just how long would this dinner be?

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Got it man, thanks.” Billy hung up and stared at the notes he’d made.

  “What’s the verdict?” Nick asked.

  “It seems our Tom Deluca is the Tom Deluca. I guess it’s a good thing your wife is going to be here in the morning when I return the lawyer and PI’s calls.

  “Did Brooklyn have any more intel?”

  “Not yet. He expects to have more details any minute now.”

  “Let me know when you hear anything.” Nick pushed to his feet. “Are you calling it a night or planning on burning the midnight oil?”

  “No.” Billy stood. “I think I’m going to hit the gym.”

  “Kara’s feeling a bit out of sorts. Thinks she’s coming down with whatever bug Bradley had. She’s gone home to overload on vitamin C and crawl into bed so she’ll be ready to rock and roll in the morning. Bradley and I are going solo for supper. Why don’t you join us? Make it a guy’s night. Ken Shepherd raved about a new Chinese restaurant near your place. It would be on your way home.”

  Was that where Dr. Slick was taking Angela to dinner? Tightening his grip on his keys, Billy maintained the calm outward demeanor he’d learned so well from the navy. “Thanks, but I hear the gym calling me.”

  “You sure? You gotta eat.”

  “I’m sure. Tell Kara I hope she feels better soon.”

  Together they exited the building. Billy locked the doors behind them, waved to his longtime friend, and climbed into his vehicle. It was none of his damn business who Angela went out with. Even if Dr. Kenneth Shepherd reminded him of a snake oil salesman. If there was such a thing as too pretty, this character was it. And doctor or not, like any single guy on a date, he was probably looking to get lucky tonight.

  It took less than ten minutes to make his way to the gym. Ten more to make himself at home in the weight room, and a final ten to work up a full head of steam over a date that was none of his business.

  An hour later he was just as riled as he’d been before working off a pound of sweat. Both tired and anxious, he finally wiped his brow with the towel hanging around his neck before tossing it into his gym bag and packing up. Since returning to Kona, the only place Billy ever showered was at home. Maybe a long hot shower could accomplish what a hard workout had failed to do—chase away the thoughts of another man making babies with Angela Carson.

  * * *

  “Thank you for dinner. It was delicious.” What little she’d eaten of it. The conversation, or perhaps tutorial, on true Chinese delicacies most definitely fell under the category of TMI—too much information. The idea of dogs, rats, and mice being raised for consumption the way Americans raise cattle or poultry was enough to suppress a starving man’s appetite.

  “We’ll have to do it again soon.” Ken shifted the car into park and circled his way around the hood.

  For a split second, she considered waiting for him to open her door, but decided that would only serve to extend what had turned out to be a painfully slow evening. Although with another twenty minutes until sunset, the evening still wasn’t over. She’d barely managed to rise from the car when Ken appeared before her, hand extended.

  “Thanks. Again.” She accepted his offer of assistance and sighed to herself at the lack of any spark. Not that she expected Fourth of July fireworks, but at least a sliver of electricity when their hands touched would have been encouraging.

  He didn’t let go of her hand. “I am sorry we had to cut our dinner short.”

  She wasn’t.

  “But it’s very kind of you to understand.”

  “Of course. I hadn’t considered psychiatrists could have emergency medical calls. I hope everything will be okay.”

  “So do I, but I promise to make it up to you.” And with a single tug of her wrist, he had her up against him, his mouth on hers, his tongue prying at her tightly pressed lips.

  Startled by the unexpected move, her mouth popped open just enough to allow him the entrance he

  obviously wanted. Flicking and swiping at her tongue and teeth, he showed no sign of needing to leave. Her palm on his chest, she gave a slight nudge and pulled away, resisting the urge to wipe her mouth. “I wouldn’t want to keep you from a patient who needs you.”

  Whether it was confusion or anger that momentarily flashed in his eyes, she wasn’t sure, but a quick nod and a smile washed away signs of what he’d been thinking. “Yes, I should be on my way. I’ll call you.”

  This time she nodded and stepped back as he hurried around to the driver side of his luxury sedan and into the front seat. Watching the good doctor’s taillights pull away, she wondered if online dating would prove any more successful. Then she considered raising dogs and rats for dinner and decided maybe a sperm donor and absent father wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

  * * *

  Morbid curiosity had Bi
lly taking a detour up Angela’s street to see if he’d find the doctor’s car parked in the driveway. What he hadn’t expected was to turn the corner and see her standing at the curb staring at a distant vehicle.

  “Brilliant, asshole. Now what?” Ready to spin around for a U-turn, his breath caught when Angela turned in his direction. He knew the minute she recognized his car. Lifting her hand to shield her eyes, she gave him no choice but to proceed up the block and wing it.

  The smile that took over her face as he drew closer surprised him. Slowing to a crawl, he pulled over and lowered the passenger-side window. “On your way somewhere?”

  Stepping closer to the SUV, she shook her head. “Not allowed to drive yet.”

  “Planning on walking?”

  With her arms resting on the lowered window, Angela hitched a shoulder. “No, I’m actually just getting home. What brings you by?”

  Good question. “On my way home from the gym.”

  She hiked a brow but said nothing.

  “I was sorry we didn’t get a chance to talk today.” That much was true. “I don’t suppose you’d like to go for a cup of coffee or something?”

  “To tell the truth something sounds good.” She opened the passenger door. “I didn’t eat much supper and am feeling a little hungry.”

  Now he really wished he had two good legs and didn’t mind showering at the gym like normal people. He had to smell like a boys’ locker room. “I need to run home and shower.”

  “Okay.” Angela climbed into the passenger seat and pulled the car door closed.

  Note to self—when you want to spare a lady being stuck in a closed space with a smelly man, remember to say “I’ll be back to pick you up” before mentioning you need to go home and shower. Billy lowered all four windows and pulled away from the curb. “You seem to be moving well.”

  “I feel pretty good. My only limitation is driving.”

  “It must be frustrating. Unable to drive.” “Why is that? We spend week after week working hard, longing for even a few days off to stay home and do absolutely nothing. But when someone says you can’t drive, takes away your freedom to just pick up and go, suddenly you’re desperate to get out of the house.”

  “Are you desperate to get out?”

  “Getting to hang out at the shop most of the day helped, but lately, now that I’m feeling better, staying home all day is getting harder.”

  “Maybe we can do something about that. I have some business to take care of in the morning, but when it’s all done, we could take a drive. Play tourist. Do the sights.”

  “Kara mentioned she had to meet you at the shop in the morning. I hope it’s not too serious.”

  “So do I.”

  Normally he would push to stay on topic for a day of tourism, but Angela had arrangements with Deluca also. “It’s about Tom Deluca.”

  “What about him?”

  “Anyone who brings his family to Hawaii for two weeks every summer and hires a dive boat for private sessions is not poor. We all knew that. But apparently Mr. Deluca has a higher net worth than any of us imagined.”

  “I don’t find that surprising. He’s given me a rather high cap to find them a place, and it sounds like he intends to pay cash.”

  “Sounds like?”

  “Whenever I ask him about financing, he’s told me not to worry. Last time we spoke he came out and said he wouldn’t be using commercial financing. I assumed that meant he intended to pay cash.”

  “Well, the question of the day is why is his lawyer calling me?”

  “His lawyers called you?”

  “And a private investigation firm.”

  “Wow. That’s interesting. Any idea what it’s all about?”

  “None.” And he wasn’t going to think about it now, either. “So what do you say about tomorrow?”

  “If you’re sure you have time, I wouldn’t object.”

  He liked the way her eyes twinkled. Most likely at the prospect of escaping the confines of her home more than at spending the day with him, but it didn’t matter. “I’m sure.”

  “Then it sounds good to me.” Her focus shifted to the view out the window. “I’ve heard your home is really nice. And big for a bachelor.”

  He laughed. That’s the first thing everyone said to him. What did a single guy need with a four-bedroom house? “To tell the truth, I almost didn’t buy it because of that. But now I’m really glad I did.”

  “Tell me.”

  He turned off the main drag and into his neighborhood. “I was home on leave about six years ago. My sister Ava and her friend wanted out of their apartment and into a house, and I tagged along. This one was across the street from one they looked at and had a For Sale By Owner sign in the yard. It was the eyesore of the street, but man what a view. I couldn’t believe someone hadn’t snatched it up for the view alone.”

  “I know. That’s why I leased my condo.”

  “A lot of houses are like yours or Nick’s. Great views, but at a price.”

  “On a hill with no yard,” she offered.

  “Exactly.” He pulled into his driveway. “But not this place.”

  As he circled the car, she took in the surroundings. He could see her Realtor’s mind at work.

  “You’ve done a nice job with it.” She scanned the front landscaping.

  “Thanks. My dad helped. I started with the outside to make the neighbors happy. They were none too pleased with the previous owner.”

  “Why did the seller let it get so run down?” “Rental property. I don’t think he cared.” “Ah.”

  While he grabbed his mail and turned the key in the lock, she continued examining the house. He pushed the door open and waved her in. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

  “Nice. Very nice.” She smiled and moved past the dining room to the right and into the main living room. “Very nice.”

  “Have a seat.” He tossed his keys into a large bowl on a side table. “Give me two minutes to grab a quick shower. Feel free to pour a drink or put a pot of coffee on if you like.”

  Angela glanced at the updated kitchen with an approving eye. “One pot of coffee coming up.”

  “Great. Make yourself at home.” Another advantage of life with Uncle Sam was the art of showering by the clock. By the time he emerged from his room smelling like a bar of soap instead of a used football jersey, the aroma for fresh-ground Kona coffee seeped down the hall.

  In the kitchen, Angela stood at the counter, her back to him.

  After giving his hair one last rubdown, he tossed the hand towel onto a kitchen chair and stepped up behind her. “What are you fixing?”

  The knife she’d held in her hand fell to the counter with a clank. “How do you do that?”

  “What?” He stole an apple slice from the counter.

  “Walk so quietly.”

  “Rubber soled shoes. Reduces my risk of falling.” Another slice of apple in hand, he took a step back. “Too hungry to wait?”

  She nodded. “My appetite is back.”

  “You’ll want more than an apple. If you don’t mind staying in…” Holding the fridge door open, he stuck his head inside, grabbed a few packages of cold cuts. Turning, he bumped the door shut with his hip and held up his spoils. “It’s not much, but I’ve been told I make a mean grilled ham and cheese.”

  “Sounds wonderful.” That smile he so liked took over her face again. “Can I help?”

  “Nope. Just have a seat while I whip this up.” From a lower cabinet, he pulled out a frying pan. “If you don’t mind my asking, why did you lose your appetite?”

  “The Carson luck has struck again.”

  Billy looked over his shoulder as he buttered the bread. “Excuse me?”

  “Sorry. I had high hopes for my dinner date tonight. Turns out my taste in men hasn’t improved any.”

  Placing slices of ham and cheese on the buttered bread, Billy tossed two sandwiches into the frying pan. “That bad?”

  Tapping her nose with h
er fingertip, she nodded.

  “Well, Miss Carson, I hope this meets your culinary standards.” Billy set the plates with the warm sandwiches on the table and slid into the seat across from her.

  Tendrils of melted cheese dripped down Angela’s chin with the first bite. “Oh, this is wonderful.”

  “Let me know if you want more.”

  With another bite, a soft satisfied moan escaped at the same time the tip of her tongue appeared to lap up a stray strand of cheese. “It’s seems a crime to refer to this as a mere grilled cheese sandwich.”

  For a split second, Billy allowed himself to contemplate being on the receiving end of that flexible tongue before shaking his mind clear. “The secret is in the cheeses.”

  “What do you use?”

  “Ah, if I tell you, it won’t be a secret anymore.”

  He sank his teeth into his own warm sandwich and decided he was glad he’d detoured up her street.

  Elbows propped on either side of her plate,

  Angela took another bite and watched the sandwich in her hand as though she expected it to bite back.

  “Something wrong?” Too much cheese? What had turned her so pensive?

  “Not really. Thinking. Planning. Facing the fact that if I want to have a baby I’m going to have to do it on my own.”

  “You do realize that is biologically impossible unless you’re a starfish?”

  “What I realize is that a difficult relationship—or boring one—with my child’s father could be worse than no relationship at all.”

  The last morsel of sandwich seemed to be clogged in his throat. Swallowing hard, he searched for words. “Exactly what are you saying?”

  “I don’t want to wait ten years for Mr. Right only to find myself still alone and childless at forty if he doesn’t turn up. I want to take advantage of my window of fertility, however slim it might be.”

  “So, no more love, marriage, and baby in that order?”