Hawaiian Masquerade (Destination Billionaire Romance) (2 page)

T
hat moment
when Derek had walked out of the end of the aisle and saw Lexi had stayed with him all day. He remembered how her straight blond hair fell across her shoulders when she crouched down and asked the child if she needed help. The way the little girl had put her arms around Lexi’s neck made Derek wish for his camera. Lexi had hesitated only a second before embracing the tiny girl, gently holding her as she stood and surveyed the store. That was the first time she’d seen him, and her striking jade-colored eyes had lit up with hope.

That Lexi thought the little girl could be his touched him in a way he’d never admit. His last relationship had ended when Carly claimed he was too self-absorbed and obsessed with photography to ever be a decent father. The accusation stung because, when the time came, nothing in the world would be more important than being a father. If Carly had been the right woman, she would have seen that in him.

His thoughts strayed to Lexi and the likelihood of seeing her again. The odds were slim, despite his desire to photograph her stunning face. The light and shadow of sunset across her delicate bone structure were as easy to imagine as listening to the musical quality of her sweet voice that soothed children and awakened his bruised heart.

Derek ran his fingers over the coarse sides of his hair. He needed to focus on preparations for art night in Hanapepe. Why had he blurted out an invitation to Lexi for art night? He’d probably spend the better part of the evening looking for her golden hair. Derek groaned.
Focus, dude
! He’d been studying ideas on how to make a bigger splash at the street festival. Last week hadn’t gone well, making him question continuing. But he’d invested so much in his booth and producing the photos to sell. He decided he’d give it two more weeks and see if he could break even on the venture.

It was more than just an art fair to Derek. He wanted to make things work in Kauai. He’d lived here for two years now, scraping by, working odd jobs to pay the electric bill and keep from going hungry and photographing on the side.

Even though he was only a quarter Hawaiian, Kauai was in his blood. His grandfather—or kupuna—was born on this island and buried in the Kauai Veterans Cemetery on Lele Road. Derek had visited Kauai once when he was in his teens and indulging in a rebellious streak. His parents had sent him to the island to be straightened out by his kupuna’s old-fashioned ways. Derek’s life had been different since then, and in a way, he’d spent the rest of his life trying to make it back to the island full of beautiful secrets. Derek knew he could work the rest of his life and barely scratch the surface of the possibilities for his photography business. It brought him a joy that was hard to explain. Now if only someone else would find joy in his work so that he could afford to continue his dream.

Derek straightened the folding table set up in his living room, scattered with photography supplies. He dusted off the set of picture frames housing some of his best pieces with a worn and torn T-shirt. Tonight he would find an opportunity that would change things. Derek wasn’t ready to give up on his dream to shoot photos full-time. His kupuna expected more of him than that.

“Why so many thoughts, bro?” Pika asked as he barged through the front door of Grandpa’s old house. Pika was full-blooded Hawaiian and perfect for a postcard with his six-foot-two height, bulging arms, and wavy black hair.

Derek rubbed his face and grunted. His friend and roommate was laid-back, but he always knew when something was eating at Derek. “Just thinking I don’t want to be chopping bamboo with a machete next week, ya know?”

Pika shook his head. “Money’s money, right?”

“I’d rather be shooting, catching the light in the lens.” Derek held up his thumb and index finger. “I feel like I’m this close. If I could just catch a break . . .”

“Now that’s what we need to do. Surf,” Pika said. “That’s the only way I know to catch a break.”

Derek rolled his eyes. Pika was the epitome of Hawaiian culture. He was at peace with himself and life on the island. It was a gift that Derek wished he could indulge in, but they were wired differently. Derek wanted to climb the mountain and conquer the world, and Pika was content to work the same job he’d worked as a teenager, chopping coconuts in the shade at the base of that mountain. Pika’s way made good money, selling the coconuts to the tourists hiking the coastline. Through his consistent hard labor he was making more money than Derek, and he seemed happy, too.

“Did you ask your mom about making some frames?” Derek asked.

Pika held up a canvas bag that he’d set near the door. “My makuahine, she get all excited and made you two already. I hope they fit.” He pulled out two frames woven from palm leaves and set them in front of Derek.

Derek picked one up and ran his finger along the intricate braiding; the texture was unique, and the color was a dark green. They would fit the eight-by-ten photos printed on foamcore he’d ordered last week. “This is perfect. I really think this will work.” He stood and slapped Pika on the back. “Thanks, man.”

Pika flashed him the hang-ten sign. “She’s still weaving, so if they don’t sell, I don’t want to know.”

Derek grinned. “Tell her to make ten more.”

When the door swung shut behind Pika, Derek got to work fitting his photographs carefully into the hand-woven frames. Everyone wanted a souvenir from their travels, but most tourists were tired of the cheap, generic merchandise that was all made in China. People wanted a piece of the island to take home with them. Something created in Kauai. A unique piece that carried a sense of sinking your toes into the warm, white sand. Derek grabbed his camera and set up an impromptu shoot of his new line of products: custom frames holding custom pictures from the isle of Kauai.

When he leaned in to focus the lens, he thought of Lexi’s cheek pressed against the girl’s dark hair, her eyes full of worry and her lips cooing comfort, and he fumbled with his camera. What was it about that shot he couldn’t get out of his head? Shaking himself, Derek concentrated on capturing the perfect photo, but all the while thoughts of Lexi reflected off of every surface.

T
he sound
of ocean swells was interrupted by a rooster crowing right outside Lexi’s window. She groaned and rolled over, peering at the warm light flooding through the screen on her balcony. Her eyes felt like they were full of the fine sand of the Kauai beach outside, and the thought made her smile. She was here. In Kauai. To stay.

Lexi sat up in bed. On the floor was a swarm of boxes that trailed into the hall of the three-bedroom home. There was a path that led to the door of the balcony overlooking the prime real estate territory on the shore of Princeville, Kauai. She had purchased the house and beachside property for four million dollars in her desire to escape from the cold and brutal winter of Chicago—and the cold and brutal reality that had become her life. Lexi shook her head. She wouldn’t think of that right now.

Her body groaned against the shift in time zones, but Lexi rolled out of bed to get ready for the day. She brushed through her long hair, freshly highlighted with golden streaks in preparation for the Hawaiian sun. When she applied a smudge of green eyeshadow that accented the jade color of her eyes, she thought of Derek’s brown eyes. A thrill fluttered through her stomach, and she smiled, remembering how he’d casually told her about art night in Hanapepe.

After Derek had mentioned it to her, she’d done some homework and found that the open-air art gallery, also known as a street fair, was held every Friday in the laid-back style of the Hawaiian culture. Come, eat, enjoy, and be. That’s exactly what Lexi wanted to do, so she’d made up her mind to attend. She wasn’t going to look for Derek among the artists showcasing their wares. No, she was going because she wanted to experience life on Kauai and maybe meet a few local artists. It’d be fun to find someone who offered painting classes or join a group to help her remember the skills she’d learned so long ago.

After rummaging through a bag for her favorite tie-dyed headband, Lexi stood still, unsure of what to do with the hours unplanned and yawning before her. Even though her home was in disarray—boxes seemed to multiply like the chickens she’d seen foraging along the shoreline last night—Lexi was free. The peacefulness of her surroundings came from the absence of her cell phone buzzing constantly with texts, emails, appointment reminders, Skype chats, and desperate late-night phone calls from businesses trying to get their product imported from China before they ran out of inventory. Lexi’s shoulders tightened at the thought, and she quickly crossed the room and stepped out onto the balcony, inhaling the soft, flower-scented air. Blowing out a breath and repeating the process, Lexi rinsed from her soul the reminders of her former life as a top executive in her brother’s import and export company.

Jordan Burke Enterprises had risen quickly, and her brother had snatched her up fresh from college to fill in all the gaps of a growing business. But none of those things had filled the gaps in her own life, and now at age thirty-two, Lexi had escaped with enough money to lounge on the beach for the rest of her life. She took in another cleansing breath. The niggling doubt circling in her brain asked again and again if she was crazy, if she would last more than a week without the frantic pace of the office and some kind of mental stimulation. Over the past year, she’d often had trouble sleeping because her mind was whirring with so many ideas, but that part of her was drained. That’s why she’d purchased the art supplies. The box of paints and brushes would feed her creative side, which had been starved into submission. Hopefully after a few months, she could find a healthy balance between a different kind of work and creating.

All she had right now was her brother; her best friend, Gracie; and hundreds of millions of dollars. Lexi straightened. She wouldn’t be defined by her money, success, or business ties in Kauai. Today was the first day of the rest of her life, and she planned to make it memorable.

She headed to the kitchen for breakfast and heard an electronic alert sound. The interruption to her solitude was so foreign that Lexi actually checked the front door before realizing that the noise had come from her new cell phone sitting in the charging dock on the granite countertop. She brushed a finger over the screen to see an incoming text from Shawn Halstrom.

I know I said I wouldn’t contact you, but I forgot that there’s an extra key fob in a box under the passenger seat of the Jeep. I didn’t want you to lose it. I hope you find what you’re looking for in paradise. Miss you. I never thought it would be this hard to let you go.

Lexi sighed. Her personal assistant, Shawn, had handled almost every detail of her move. Shawn wanted her to stay and be part of his life in a personal and romantic way. Even though Shawn was one of the few men she trusted wasn’t after her money, he couldn’t persuade her to stay. They’d circled around the idea of dating for months before Lexi finally gave in and went to dinner with him. That began a fledgling relationship challenged daily by their grueling workload.

Months after a stilted and pathetic breakup, Shawn maintained that they didn’t get a chance to see if a relationship would work. That was probably true, but Shawn was eager to climb the Burke Enterprise ladder, vying for a position that would lead to the stressful job Lexi happily abandoned, and she didn’t want to be a part of that—even vicariously—any longer.

The first three days away from the office, Lexi was like an addict going through withdrawal. No one needed her. It was strange, and on the fourth day Lexi realized it could be strangely wonderful.

She held her phone, her finger hovering over the screen. Should she reply or keep the distance she’d requested? She imagined Shawn in a designer suit, blond highlights in his dark hair, his chiseled jawline lifting in a commanding smile. She missed him, too—the familiarity of him. He’d worked overtime helping her plan everything, supporting the decision that she knew he didn’t agree with, because he was a good guy. She almost texted him a silly joke for old time’s sake, but she decided a simple thank-you would be courteous and keep the lines clear. She sent the text and put her phone back on the charging dock.

Her stomach grumbled, redirecting her focus onto food. Her fridge needed help—the bag of mangoes and stack of yogurt looked lonely on the pristine shelves. While Lexi ate, she jotted down a grocery list. In Chicago, her money had made it possible for her to work herself into overdrive. She never cooked, cleaned, or shopped, and she hired someone to take care of picking up the dry cleaning. Sitting in the middle of her spacious kitchen, Lexi asked herself again what she’d missed in life because of her money.

She spent a few hours unpacking in the solitude with the ocean breeze and crashing waves as her company. Two weeks ago, she’d spent Friday night working until one in the morning at Burke Enterprises, trying to play catch-up after Chinese New Year and the mandatory lapse in production for all factories in China. February was one of the most stressful months of the year. It was March, and she was already planning how she would celebrate the Chinese New Year next year.

Lexi lifted the flaps of another box and hesitated, smiling. The box was full of forgotten art supplies. When she was in college, she’d taken some classes and dabbled in graphic design, but then she’d been lured into the business management track by her brother. There just hadn’t been time for anything as creative as oil painting or sketching since then.

Lexi spent a couple hours sorting through notebooks, sketch pads, and detailed instructions on mixing colors and practicing with her color wheel. She found an old textbook and a notebook full of detailed instructions from classes she’d attended. Reading through the notes made her fingers itch to paint. Lexi took it as a sign. It was time to follow her creative soul to a new vista.

She glanced at the clock. It was also time to get cleaned up. Lexi scrambled to shower and dress for the evening. Her stomach buzzed with anticipation. There was something waiting for her in Hanapepe tonight—she could almost taste it.

T
he drive
from her new home in Princeville to the street fair seemed like a dream. Dark green foliage, bright purple flowers, and glorious archways as trees tangled together over the road. Yellow plumeria and bougainvillea in a shade of fuchsia that almost didn’t seem real flashed by on her way to Hanapepe. By the time Lexi reached the tiny island city, the sunset streaking orange and pink across the sky, she felt like she was walking outside her skin. A smile that would have seemed out of place on Lexi last week kept tugging at the corners of her mouth.

She drove past a grassy area and parked next to several other vehicles. Even though Shawn had practically begged Lexi to stay, he’d done an excellent job of helping her relocate, even finding her a used vehicle in the area. The Jeep was perfect for blending in; Lexi especially loved the rust spots on the sides of the faded blue doors. She hopped down from the driver’s seat and started across the tall grass toward the booths, meandering through the area. Lexi left her lingering feelings for Shawn behind and smoothed out her flowing skirt. Around three hundred people visited vendors’ booths set up in front of the shops, eating, laughing, and dancing. Lexi flipped her blond braid over her shoulder. She was ready to step into this life.

Tiki torches and Hawaiian music provided an ambiance that loosened the knots in Lexi’s shoulders. The smell of barbeque had her mouth watering. She stopped by a stand selling cups of fresh pineapple and mango. Lexi purchased one and savored the sweet tropical flavors of the island. Another store sold jewelry, and Lexi selected a bracelet with beads made from local wood, shell, and rocks. The woman slipped it on her wrist after she paid, and Lexi murmured, “Mahalo.”

The woman nodded. “Mahalo to you, too, beautiful island girl.”

The sentiment warmed Lexi, and she found herself smiling easily as she browsed. She passed a photography booth, another jewelry vendor, and one selling sun hats that she was tempted to purchase. Near the end of the street, she approached a stand for Fuse Photography. The logo was cool, featuring a camera sitting on top of a sea turtle with a fuse igniting the business title. She studied it for a moment longer, thinking of the many marketing meetings she’d attended to get the perfect logo on the right piece of merchandise made in China. It was nice to appreciate something that she didn’t have to stress over.

“Aloha. If you like my sign, I bet you’ll like the photos even more.” A man stood behind a table of photographs, packaged and ready to sell—the photos, that is, although the man was pretty well put together, too, from what she could see. The torch was blocking her view. “It’s Lexi, right?” He extended his hand. “Remember me, from the art store?”

Lexi stepped out from under the bright light, and Derek’s face came into focus. Her breath caught at the sight of him, and she smiled, reaching out to him. “Yes. Derek—finder of lost parents. You didn’t mention you had a booth here when you told me about art night.”

Derek grinned and motioned to his T-shirt, the Fuse logo stretching nicely across his muscular build. “Now you know.”

Lexi admired his casual stance. He seemed at home amid his photographs. “That is a great logo. So what kind of photography do you specialize in?”

Derek smiled and extended his arm, indicating the spread of pictures. “Mostly nature scenes, but I’d say I specialize in underwater photography.” He tapped a close-up of a sea turtle.

Lexi stepped closer. “That is so cool. I’ve always wanted to swim with sea turtles.” She traced her finger over the plastic wrapping.

“This guy was a little grumpy about having his picture taken, but it was a nice shot.”

Lexi laughed at the seeming frown on the turtle’s face. She set it down and picked up another photo of a group of turtles in the water, some reaching for the surface amidst a school of yellow-and-black fish. “I’d like to buy this one. It’s such a unique shot.”

Derek brightened. “Thanks. That one is twenty-eight dollars.”

Lexi took out a twenty and a ten. “Keep the change. That’s an excellent price for a photo of this caliber.”

He took the twenty and pulled out two dollars in change. “It’s the going rate on this island for photography. I’m glad you like it.”

Lexi shook her head. “No, I’m serious. I stopped by a couple other booths and I can tell the difference.”

Derek hesitated, the two dollars in his outstretched palm, and Lexi had the distinct impression that he worked hard for every dollar in his business. She’d been there once upon a time, but it’d been so long since she’d worried about the minutiae of daily life that two dollars seemed a paltry tip for the handsome photographer.

She decided to change the subject. Holding the photo under the lights strung up around his booth, she examined it again. “How do you take pictures underwater? Is it a waterproof camera?”

“Nah, much better.” He grinned and carefully folded the two dollars, returning them to his cash box. “It’s pretty awesome. I have this case that snaps around my camera, so I get the quality I want without having to spend thousands on a waterproof camera that can actually take decent shots.”

“Really? That sounds pretty ingenious,” Lexi said. She glanced to the side, not wanting to take up his time if there were other people waiting to look at the photographs, but this end of the street fair was quiet. “This is kind of embarrassing to admit, but I don’t even know how to snorkel.”

Derek laughed. “Well, that’s one of the top activities for tourists around here.”

“But remember, I’m not a tourist.” Lexi put her hand to the side of her mouth. “I’m a local.”

“You mentioned before you’re from Chicago? Miss the weather yet?” He winked.

Lexi held out her bare arm, stark white against her pink tank top. “It may take me a while to look like a native, but it sure is nice to go outside without a coat on.”

“There’s a few places on this island you’ll want a jacket,” Derek said. “It rains every day at the Wai’ale’ale Crater.”

“Hey, I read about that. The wettest place on earth.”

“That’s the one.” He picked up another photo and held it out to her. “Here’s a shot of the crater right after a rainstorm when the sun decided to peek out.”