Diving In (15 page)

“Not right now, but thanks,” Nicki said. “Maybe I’ll catch you tomorrow.” She shot a narrow-eyed look at Ansel.

He took another bite and wiped his fingers on a napkin. “Pretty good coconut prawns. You should try them.”

She braced her hands on the pool and hauled herself up. He meant to avert his eyes, not just out of courtesy to her, but also out of compassion for his own raging testosterone, and failed. Dripping, shiny, and majestic, she strode toward him to claim her towel on the chair next to his. She dried off quickly and pulled a swim cover-up over her head.

He held up the basket of prawns, squinting at her over his sunglasses. “Help yourself. I saved the receipt.”
 

“No thanks,” she muttered, walking away.

He jumped up to follow. “How about lunch?” he asked. “You can buy. You owe me for the pizza, remember?”

The bright sun lit the side of her face, exaggerating her high cheekbones. Mickey. All these years, he’d thought her name was Mickey.
 

“What are you doing?” she asked.

His sister would’ve killed him if he hadn’t saved her teacher friend from Lawless Lansing. When he’d seen them in the water together, he’d sprung into rescue mode. “Too much, too soon?”

“Friends, remember? We’re friends.”

“You said friends pay each other back for meals.”

“You don’t play fair.” She took one of his prawns and popped it into her mouth. As she chewed, her scowl melted. “Wow, that’s good.”

He pointed at the restaurant. “You up for more?”

Her pink tongue darted out and licked her lips, making Ansel clench his teeth.
 

“Know any place cheaper?” she asked.

“Nope. I don’t have to worry about money,” he said. “Because I’m rich.” He shrugged inwardly. Close enough.

“Yeah, well, I’m not.”

He sighed. “Sorry about that.”

“Forget it. I’ll order something small,” she said. “Come on.”

 
There was already a line forming at the entrance to the restaurant; families, well-dressed retired couples, twenty-somethings in bathing suits. When Nicki started to walk to the end of the queue, behind two teenage girls wearing bikini tops and cutoffs, he grabbed her arm and squeezed.

He brought her over to the hostess, who smiled at him and waved them inside. Within ninety seconds, Ansel and Nicki sat at the best table in the house—small but set aside from the others in a shaded corner of the patio overlooking the water. Live ukulele music blended with the rhythmic sound of the waves across the pale sand.

“Ex-girlfriend?” Nicki asked him, watching the hostess walk away.

“One of Rachel’s surfer friends from the old days,” he replied.

“And you never had a thing with her? Not even close?”

Her skepticism annoyed him. “I don’t have a ‘thing’ with every woman I know.”

“You only try to?”

“There is no try, only do,” he said.

Just then the waiter showed up to present the daily specials, and when he was done, he handed them each large menus on papyrus-like scrolls tied with twine, clasped his empty hands together in front of him, and asked if they were ready to order a drink. It was the type of restaurant where they only hired wait staff with total recall, as if the sight of a notepad would ruin diners’ appetites.

“We’ll start right away with another order of coconut prawns,” Ansel said. The devil in him took over. “And a lava flow for each of us, though make mine a virgin.”

He could tell by the distress on Nicki’s face that she was dying to argue. “Mine, too,” she said through her teeth. “Do those come in small?”

The waiter shook his head. “Sorry, just the one size.”

When the waiter left them, she unfurled the menu like a medieval scribe.

Poor Mickey
, he thought, scanning the prices. There wasn’t anything on the menu under ten bucks.

Which he’d known, of course, when he brought her there. “I’m thinking lobster,” he said. “I bet they do a better job with it than I do. My eggs Benedict was a little disappointing.”

“Lobster again?”

“It’s a little pricey, though maybe that’s the caviar glaze that jacks it up. That’s okay, right? We’ll just split everything fifty-fifty and call it even.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Get whatever you’re used to, rich boy.”

“But… you don’t mind?”

“I won’t eat for the rest of the week to make up for it,” she said, “but I could stand to lose a few pounds, don’t you think?”

He laughed. Funny woman.

But when the waiter returned with their drinks, Ansel ordered the lobster—for two—and then, putting his hand over hers, asked for the dessert tray to wheel by as soon as possible. “Don’t worry. I’ll pay my half.”

“You better eat every bite,” she said. “No doggy bags.”

Grinning, he toasted her with his drink. “To swimming.”

She smacked her glass against his, sending white foam over his knuckles. “To swim instructors.”

Smile souring, he said, “Rachel calls him Lawless. Want to guess why?”

“Lawless the pool boy,” she said, nodding. “I like the sound of that.”

“That ‘boy’ is older than me.”

“Ooh, that old?” She slurped her drink, smiling at him so hard her eyes disappeared.

“He’s been working here since Rachel and I were
kids
,” Ansel went on. “Doesn’t that weird you out a little bit?”

She shrugged. “What weirds me out is that you followed me out to the pool to spy on me.” She plucked the drink umbrella out of the pineapple. “Even after yesterday.”

He bit one of the prawns he’d brought into the restaurant with him, smiling around the fried tail sticking out of his mouth. “I’m a mystery, aren’t I?”

Her gaze lingered over him before dropping to her glass. She plucked out a wedge of pineapple. “Just wondering why. Is your life that empty?”

“Of course not,” he said. “I’m actually very busy at the moment.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“It’s Sunday. Even a working man gets a day off.”

The waiter arrived, set the fresh order of prawns on the table, and refilled their water glasses before striding off again. He wore a belted sarong low on his hips, low enough to make Ansel uncomfortable.

Not Nicki, apparently. He noticed she didn’t take her eyes off the young man’s butt until it disappeared behind the bar.

“Like the view?” Ansel asked.

She jerked her head around to face the Pacific. “It’s beautiful.”

“You’re kind of flushed. Feeling okay?”

“I’m sunburned.”

“So, pool boys, waiters…” He dipped a prawn in chili-cucumber sauce. “Don’t forget about the valet guys. They’re the best-looking dudes in the whole place.”

“I’m surprised you’d notice that.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t.”

“Well, when I arrived, I was a total basket case. As usual.” She made a spiraling motion around her ear with her index finger. “After the flight and the drive, I barely managed to check in at the front desk for the key, let alone have the mental balance to check out the staff’s bodies.”

She was still trying to scare him away. Was that why he suddenly found her so fascinating? He rubbed his chest. “Shame you missed them. If I had to go gay, the resort entrance wouldn’t be a bad place to start looking.”

She choked on a prawn. “Glad you have a contingency plan.”

“What’s your preference—light, dark, big, small?” he asked. “As one friend to another.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t be friends after all. When did you say you were leaving?”

He scanned the restaurant. “I’m not picky—talking about women now, you understand. Guys will have sex with anybody, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, but women, well, you’re different. You’re much more judgmental.”

“No, we’re not.”

He beamed. “Great. Then you’ll sleep with me?”

She set the glass on the table and turned away in her chair. “I don’t believe you.”

“See? You’re picky. But any guy here would have sex with you in a second,” he said, looking around. “Or with any of the women here.” He added that so she’d relax. Like one friend with another.

She rolled her eyes, sucked strawberry lava up her straw.

 
“It’s true,” he continued. “If men were really in charge, everyone would be at it like bonobo monkeys all day long. Did you know they have sex like we say hello? It’s sort of their handshake.”

“I get the feeling you’ve given this entertaining speech before,” she said.

“Nope. It’s an original.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know if I should be offended for men or for women. Both of your generalizations are insulting.”

“You should be offended for men. Women are normal. Men are the pigs.”

“I thought they were bonobo monkeys.”

“Right,” he said.

“I think you’re just trying to get a rise out of me.”

He wasn’t quite sure what he was trying to get, but it was a lot better than nothing. “Maybe.”

“Because you’re bored,” she said.

“I told you, I’m very busy. How could I be bored?”

“Easy. Ever work retail?”

“Nope, never worked retail.” He captured the waiter’s attention and ordered a fruit cocktail, a bottle of Pellegrino, and an iced coffee.

“Thirsty?” she asked through her teeth.

“I couldn’t make up my mind, so I ordered them all.” He patted her hand. “And I wanted to get enough to share.”

“You really don’t want to take any of my money, do you?” she asked. “Even if it’s fair.”

He set his untouched cocktail aside. “I’ve never had a real job.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “How fair is that?”

After eating another prawn, she licked her fingers and leaned back in her chair. “I hope the lobster you’re paying for gets here soon,” she said with a sigh. “Swimming really builds up an appetite.”

Ansel’s grin widened. “Imagine how hungry you’ll get if you ever let go of the wall of the pool.”

“You have no idea how hard that was for me.”

“I apologize.” He poured out two glasses of the water, handed her one, and added, “Seriously. I figured you’d rather not be patronized.”

“Thank you.”

He held up the water in a toast. “Here’s to personal growth.”

She paused before tapping her glass against his. “Got any growth of your own in mind?”
 

“You could say I’ve got a few dragons of my own to slay.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I’m tired of being a slacker,” he said. “It’s time for me to grow up and join the real world.”

“Hate to break it to you,” she said, “but this ain’t it.”

“I’m only here on business. As soon as that’s finished, I’ve got work back in San Francisco. The work of a real estate tycoon is dreary and infinite.”

“Sounds like you’re looking forward to it.”

He sighed. “Yeah.”

“Why do it if you don’t like it?”

He shrugged. “Have to make my fortune somehow.”

“Why? Was there some kind of—” She reached over for a bread stick. “Never mind.”

“Some kind of what?”

“Nothing. It’s none of my business.”
 

“Go ahead. Ask.”
 

But maybe she didn’t want to hear about all that; he already had a platonic female friend to listen to that kind of thing. Which reminded him it was Sunday, the day he usually checked in with Diane. He took out his phone and set it on the table. Given their routine, she’d be annoyed if he didn’t pick up.

“Did your family have some kind of financial disaster?” Nicki asked. “Because if so, you shouldn’t be ordering long-distance seafood in exotic tourist locales.”

He smiled, shook his head. “Nope. The Jury-Jarski fortune is intact.”

“So why do anything at all?” She held out her hands. “Just enjoy it.”

“This has nothing to do with them. This is about me.” He poked his straw into the strawberries at the bottom of his glass. She was right about not spending money, but he wanted her to have a little fun. More than she had yesterday, more than she had that night in college when he’d bailed on her without an explanation.

“Are you worried you might fail?”

His head shot up. “Excuse me?”

“Sorry. Not my business.”

“It’ll be fine. Maybe.”

“It will. What do you have to lose?”

“Right. Exactly.” He smiled brightly. “It’s not like my parents wouldn’t pick me up again if I totally flopped. Poor little Ansel screwed up again, oh well. I could go bankrupt and fly home first class on Mom and Dad’s Amex card.” Well, he could have in the old days.

No, he could still do it. It would take a phone call, maybe an apology, but even his father would extend a hand if he really needed it.

The thought galled him. He wasn’t entirely convinced he wouldn’t have to do it someday.

The waiter arrived, setting plates of grilled chicken over wilted greens with fresh fruit on the table.

Nicki gaped at the chicken. “When did you change the order?”

“It’s kind of a little joke of mine,” he said. “A standing joke.”

She sank back into her seat. “Very funny.”

“Rachel was going through a locavore phase last year. When I ordered the lobster, she argued with me for fifteen minutes, so now I order it every time I’m out with her.” He speared a glistening slice of papaya with his fork. “Given our, ah, little conversation the other night about splitting costs down the middle, no matter what, I couldn’t resist a sequel.”

“Great.”

“Have you had the papaya? Really good.” He closed his eyes and chewed.

“I’m still going to let you pay,” she said.

“But the chicken salad’s the cheapest entree on the menu,” he said with mock outrage.

“Yeah, well, I was looking forward to lobster.”

He laughed. Warning bells chimed in his head, but he pressed on. “We’ll go somewhere else. You can order it with Yorkshire cream, Russian caviar, Chilean sea bass, Japanese sake, you name it.” He leaned closer. “How about tonight?”

Chapter 12

T
HE
CHICKEN
CAUGHT
IN
HER
throat. She had to force it down with a mouthful of mineral water.
 
“You’re asking me out? After what happened yesterday?”