Diving In (7 page)

Brand groaned. “Focus, Ansel. Focus. Just the building.”

“I mean solar panels for the property. On the roof. There’s this thing here, this fiery ball of gas in the sky, and it’s really bright and hot,” he said. “You’ve lived in San Francisco so long you probably don’t remember what I’m talking about.”

“Money pit,” Brand said.

“Not in the long run.”

“You wanted me to tell you when you were being stupid,” Brand said. “Here you go.”

“Hey, it’s not stupid to save money on energy. The woman I found to bid on the windows is thinking about moving into solar. We had lunch, and she told me all about the industry here—”

“Ah. You had lunch with somebody. She talked to you about her life’s dream, and you were putty in her hands,” Brand said. “This is how you ended up with that organic dog food business.”

And a dog training one
. But Brand didn’t have to know about that. “I’ll show you the numbers. Even within five years, solar makes sense.”

“It’s more money up-front. Harder, longer to make a profit. I believe you said you wanted to pile up a mountain of moolah as soon as possible. Those were your words.”

“Not right away…”

“Stick to the plan. Just once, why don’t you experience the thrill of having a business give
you
money?” Brand asked. “You might like it.”

“Check out the photos. I’ll send you the spreadsheet.”

“Just trying to help you meet the goals we set up on our plan,” Brand said.

“Appreciate it. It’s all cool,” Ansel said. “Just keep an open mind. We’ll talk soon. Bye.” He stabbed the phone with his index finger. Just below him, the resort’s beachfront restaurant and its broad, flat roof were baking in the sun. The palm fronds over the bar wouldn’t be good for solar panels, but the rest of the building would be perfect.

He’d talk to the resort management company about it. Some of the newer resorts were much more ecologically aware than this one; it made good advertising and, hell, why not pay attention to the bigger global picture?
 

He shoved his feet into his flip-flops, grabbed his wallet, phone, and keys, and left the condo to find somebody in the facility’s management. He’d get a few names and make an appointment if necessary. When he stepped off the elevator and strode through the foyer, out of habit he glanced across the courtyard to scan the ocean for signs of whales, though the humpbacks wouldn’t return in numbers until the late fall.

Had Nicki had ever been out on a whale watch?
he wondered. He never got tired of seeing those tails pop up out of the water. If she’d never been to Hawaii before, probably not. It was a shame she’d come in the summer; she’d miss the show.

Don’t think about her
, he reminded himself.
Solar panels and commercial property. Interest rates. Zoning.

But then he saw her sitting on the edge of the wading pool at the end of the courtyard, and he came to a sudden halt, all serious thought leaving his head like air out of a whale’s blowhole.

She was staring down into the water, leaning forward with her hands under the surface. Her dress was hitched up above her knees, exposing her upper thighs.
 

Ansel stared. Had she dropped something? Her expression was intense, almost urgent. He took a step forward to ask her if she needed help.

But then she looked up and saw him, and her face broke into a blinding smile.

He froze again, surprised by the way his heart swelled to see her so happy. “Did you find it?” he managed to ask, finally breaking his paralysis to approach her.

“Find it?” she asked, still smiling.

He stopped about three feet away next to her and stared into the shallow water. “I thought you’d lost something.”

“Only my marbles.”

“Ah,” he said, not understanding but willing to play along. “Did you find them in there?” He slid out of his sandals and sat down on the ledge next to her. A fake grotto and a low wall that opened up into a small waterfall several yards away surrounded the pool.

She looked at her feet. “A few of them.” She kicked the water with her legs, distracting him again.

“Need help finding the rest?” The words came out before he could stop himself. An attractive woman always triggered his charm reflex.

“I just need a vacation,” she said, sighing. “But thanks.”

They sat in silence for a few long seconds, during which he wondered if he should get up and leave her alone with her marbles and long legs, but there wasn’t any point in being unfriendly.

So he stayed. He stretched out his hairy, short man legs in the warm water next to hers. “It would be pathetic of me to say I know what you mean, given how little work I’ve ever had to do, but I’d like to think I do know what you mean anyway.” He leaned back on his hands and glanced at her. Her profile was strong, with a high forehead and a long nose; it suited the rest of her. “What do you need a vacation from?”

She stood up in the pool, holding her skirt aside with one hand; the water lapped at her shins. She stared at her feet with that oddly intense expression again.

He waited. “Nicki?”

“It’s a nice pool,” she said, sighing louder this time.

“One of many. The one near the second tower goes around in a loop.”

“I like this one.”

“It’s very nice.” He wouldn’t pry. If she didn’t have a job, who was he to judge or sympathize? “I was about to try to find somebody around here who might be interested in solar panels. Reducing the carbon footprint of the resort, you know?”

Nodding vaguely, she pulled her skirt up to her hips, exposing the tantalizing red bottom of a swimsuit, and strode away from the edge. She splashed through the pool and stopped in the middle about twenty feet away from him. She spun around.

“Check it out,” she said, breaking out that blinding smile again. “I’m swimming!”

* * *

He must think I’m nuts
, she thought, flexing her toes on the rough tile bottom,
but I don’t care
. She was in the water! Only a few of her internal organs had shut down from fear; the rest were plugging along just fine, desensitized by the afternoon’s slow-mo exposure to wet, baby-blue, chlorinated pool water. It had taken her two hours to go from the deck to her spot in the middle of the pool, and now look at her. She was still breathing on her own. No ambulances had been called.

Progress!

Her triumph faded when she saw the look on Ansel’s face. He didn’t look like he thought she was crazy; he looked like he thought she was
hot
. One side of his mouth curled up in a grin, his posture leaned forward, his eyes shone bright and eager.

Fresh terror struck her.

No
. Not Ansel Jury-Jarski, not now. What was the matter with him? Didn’t he see she was the incumbent mayor of Crazytown?

“What are you doing for dinner?” he asked.

“I’m not hungry,” she said.

“I meant later.” His lopsided smile tilted another few degrees. “I was thinking about cooking something up at the condo. Easier to cook for two.” He jerked his head at the tower behind them.

“Thanks, but no. No thank you.” She couldn’t think of any excuse, so she just stared at him from her spot in the middle of the pool.
 

He didn’t look offended. “Sure, no problem.” He got to his feet. “I promised you privacy, and I meant it. I’ll leave you alone now.”

She bit back an apology. “Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He waved and slipped his feet into his sandals. “I’ll see you later. Or not. Whichever you prefer.” He flashed the grin at her again as he walked away and disappeared behind the fake boulders of the landscaping.

He was flirting with her. She’d noticed him checking out her body. Free-range professional models flocked to Maui, yet he wanted to look at
her
?

The worst thing was, she’d been laughing and smiling in return as if he were just any other guy.

She marched through the water and sat on the edge of the pool with decade-old, horribly good memories washing over her.

It had been late, and they’d been sitting around in her room with six or seven other people in the semi-darkness, drinking and eating, sharing stories about sexual fantasies or experiences that were true, false, in-between, inhibitions melting away the way they did sometimes those first years in college; most of them were still too young to be jaded or careful.

Ansel was just visiting his sister. He’d brought a fondue set. It had been a big joke; they were all going to eat fondue in Rachel’s room, even though it barely held four people standing up, let alone the two dozen hungry college students excited to dunk random stuff into melted cheese instead of studying.

But Rachel’s roommate had kicked them out. Nicki, though she had a human biology midterm at nine the next morning and was already in her pajamas, immediately flung open her own door. The crowd filed in, and the sound of laughter and the smell of melting cheese attracted the entire floor and the one above them. Two hours later, everyone was full and half-asleep, drunk, happy, sad, and naturally thinking about sex. Some paired up and disappeared into their own rooms. One couple started right there and were encouraged for a few minutes before disgust prevailed and they were evicted. The rest of them began talking. A trio of aromatherapy candles was the only light in the room, inviting confidences. A few people, two men and a woman, said they were gay. One guy said he wanted to be a psychiatrist, then got drunk and told everyone to shut up.

And then they were all gone, and it was just Nicki and Ansel.

She remembered it all like a movie she’d seen in the theater, owned on video, shared copies with her friends, watched too many times, and now despised.

They hadn’t actually had sex. Sometimes she wondered if that made it all that much worse. Not only had Ansel forgotten her, he hadn’t even mustered the enthusiasm to finish the job. Right when she’d worked up the courage to unzip the fly of his jeans to feel him—to feel any man was new, but
him
, oh my God—he jumped back, fell out of her bed, and half-ran, half-crawled into the hallway, never to be seen again.

Next she heard, he’d gone back to UC Davis, his school at the time, though he dropped out soon after for a while.

Nicki, who never saw him in person again, kept that damn fondue pot for six years. To this day, the smell of melting cheese made her want to vomit.

And he didn’t even remember her.

It’s a test
, she told herself.
If he were a different guy, I might be tempted to go for it
.

Thank goodness she wasn’t tempted.

She sank into the water, arms spread out along the edge, and lifted her face to the sun.

He liked her. She could see the like all over his face.

Remember the cheese
, she told herself.
Just remember the damn cheese.

Chapter 6

A
NSEL
WALKED
AWAY
FROM
N
ICKI
at the pool, intending to return after he finished his errand about the solar panels. Grinning, he savored the memory of her standing in the water like a goddess, all that shining feminine skin on display.

He’d been too obvious, too fast, so she’d put up her walls, but he’d felt something spark between them. He’d just been so charmed by the look on her face that he’d forgotten how to be subtle.

As he paused to read the resort map near the foyer, looking for the business offices, his phone rang.

To his surprise, it was Rachel, not Brand. He hesitated. He wasn’t supposed to be in Maui, but he didn’t usually lie to his twin and didn’t relish starting now.

But Nicki might’ve talked to her. He should answer, reassure her he wasn’t staying long and that he hadn’t made any unsavory moves on her friend yet. Well, he’d leave off the ‘yet’ part.

He lifted the phone to his ear. “Hi, Rachel.”

“I have huge news, but you have to promise not to give me a hard time.”

He stifled a groan. She’d been in London since Christmas. After her gallery opening in Seattle had been a hit, she’d followed friends to London, hoping for more success there.

“Don’t start,” Rachel said. “You’re already being difficult.”

“What did I say?”

“You made a noise,” she said.

“I tried not to.”

“Try harder.” Rachel cleared her throat. “Ready? Here it comes.”

He sat on a low wall surrounding the koi pond. Three little girls in ascending height order and matching black hair were on the opposite side, peering down into the water. “Okay. Hit me.”

“I’m getting married.”

He laughed. “Right.”

“I am.”

To his dismay, she sounded like she believed it. “You’re not old enough.”

“I’m two minutes older than you, bro,” she said. “Two minutes closer to thirty.”

“Thirty is the new eighteen.”

“Maybe for you. Your sperm has decades of babies ahead. I’m the one with ovaries.”

Turning away from the pond, Ansel propped his elbows on his knees and dropped his head into his hands. “I hate it when you talk about your reproductive organs.”

“Aren’t you even going to ask me what his name is?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he muttered. “You’re not getting married.”

“I knew you’d be annoying. You always thought you’d be the one to get married first.”

“I did?”

“Maybe you will. Seeing anyone lately? My wedding is in January. Can you beat that?”

“Very funny.”

“It would fix things with Dad. He’d have to admit you’re not the little kid he thinks you are.” Her tone changed, became warmer. “Seriously, that’s the solution to all of your problems. You should settle down. It’ll make you happy, it’ll make Mom and Dad happy, and it’ll make
me
happy.”

“Even my imaginary wife?”

“She exists somewhere. You just haven’t met her yet. Or you have, just don’t realize it yet.”

“You’re not really engaged,” he said, sighing in relief. “You only said that because you wanted to talk about me. Well, sorry. I’m not going to marry some poor woman to make Dad—or even you—happy.”