Bad Boys for Hire_Ken_Hawaiian Holiday Read online

  Bellhops and doormen clustered around the entrance, waiting for the well-heeled guests who would arrive in limos filled with designer luggage.

  Ken and his sister definitely looked out of place.

  Carefully, he extracted her wheelchair and rolled it to the passenger side, then helped her get seated.

  “Where’s the lady you’re supposed to meet?” Carol asked. “Do you think this is a practical joke?”

  Ken scratched his head and pushed the wheelchair toward the entrance. “We’ll walk in like we belong. These days, no one can tell if we’re not eccentric dot com millionaires.”

  They sauntered up to the doorway, and one of the doormen opened the door, welcoming them to the hotel.

  “Is there any particular party you’re looking for?” he asked.

  “Yeah, a wedding,” Ken replied.

  “At any given time, we have four to five weddings,” the doorman explained. “Name of the bride and groom?”

  Ken glanced at the white board easels directing guests to the different venues: Garden Patio, Courtyard, Ballroom, Forest Area, with the names of the parties.

  Before he could make a guess, the double doors to the ballroom swung open, and a large man with a black beard trampled out. He ripped off his tuxedo jacket to expose a biker’s leather vest and stormed toward the exit.

  Ken pulled Carol’s wheelchair back, but he wasn’t fast enough. The black bearded man slammed into the wheelchair and toppled it.

  “Carol!” Ken reached for his sister, but the large man was faster.

  He scooped Carol off the floor with one arm and righted her wheelchair with the other. “Miss, are you okay?”

  “Don’t you watch where you’re going?” Carol snapped.

  “Not when there’s someone as pretty as you in my way.” The man dropped Carol back into the wheelchair. Grabbing the handlebars, he twirled her around. “My name’s Drake, and I’ll take you wherever you’re going.”

  “Wait a minute.” Ken wrestled the wheelchair from Drake. “My sister and I are on our way to a wedding.”

  “A wedding without a groom,” Carol added. “Might you know which one?”

  “That’s the one I’m leaving,” Drake said. “I was the best man, but I’m not taking the place of the groom.”

  “I’m Carol.” His sister smiled sweetly at Drake. “My brother’s supposed to be the groom.”

  “You’re kidding,” Drake said. “Did Warren put you up to this? Because when I find him, I’m going to wring his neck. You don’t leave a woman at the altar and embarrass her in front of three hundred guests.”

  “You mean the wedding’s over?” Ken’s head swirled and he palmed his hand over his temple.

  “You’re too late.” An Asian woman wearing a perfusion of pink ruffles strode toward them. "I’m Nikki Chu. You’re Ken Cassidy, right? The guy from Bad Boys for Hire?”

  “Yes, I am, but you didn’t give me much time, and you didn’t answer your cell phone,” Ken said. “Since I and my sister came here for nothing, it’s only fair if you give me a tip to compensate for my time.”

  “A tip?” Drake hovered over them with his huge bearlike frame. “Let me get this right. The groom skips out, and you’re getting paid to marry the bride?”

  “It was only to stop the embarrassment,” Ken said. “Not to truly marry her. You know, the three hundred guests.”

  “Where are they all now?” Carol asked.

  Nikki waved her hand toward the garden. “After the bride came down the aisle only to find this lug head”—she glared at Drake—“standing in for Warren, her groom, she told everyone to go ahead and enjoy the reception, eat the meatballs, and cut the cake. They’re all at the garden right now, and if you hurry, you can still be in time for the bouquet toss. She can’t wait to get rid of those blue forget-me-nots.”

  Carol clapped and looked at Ken. “I love blue forget-me-nots. Can we go? It’s not like we have any place else to be.”

  “I’ll be glad to escort you, fair maiden,” Drake said. He pried Ken’s hands off the handlebars of the wheelchair. “Allow me to steer your chariot.”

  Carol giggled and fluttered her eyelids, clearly pleased with the knucklehead’s attention, leaving Ken no choice but to follow them.

  Nikki trailed at his side. “Do you still want to earn some money?”

  “Well, yeah, money would help,” Ken said. He hated being between jobs, occupations, or open doors. “I was a professional surfer but had to retire, so I’m taking up acting.”

  “Acting? That’s great, because the bride could use some cheering up. I’m amazed how composed she is and taking everything in stride. She ordered an open bar, and she’s insisting on shaking everyone’s hand even as she returns their wedding gifts. Deep inside, she’s got to be hurting, and I know just the thing to lift her spirits.”

  “What’s that?” Ken was already admiring the unnamed bride for her bravery. Anyone else would have collapsed in a mess of tears or gone into hiding never to appear again. This one sounded like a tower of strength.

  “A honeymoon romance, that’s what,” the Asian woman said. “How would you like an all expense paid trip to Hawaii?”

  “That sounds tempting, but I can’t leave her.” Ken pointed toward his sister who was annoyingly flirting with Mr. Black Beard. Maybe a refresher on Blackbeard the Pirate was in order.

  “I’m not sure me and my friends can come up with enough money to pay both of your airfares,” Nikki said.

  “What exactly is the job?” Ken stopped at the trellis and spotted the bride. Her flaming red hair piled over a sparkly dress of shining beads and wispy gauze. Tall, slender and fiery, she stood in the gazebo with her parents on both sides, smiling and chatting with the guests. Beside her was a layered cake, listing slightly to one side. The groom figurine was stuck upside down on the top of the cake, and a dog biscuit stood in place of the bride figurine.

  It wasn’t the cake that held his attention.

  “I know her,” Ken said. “She was supposed to play Cinderella back in fifth grade, instead she got sick. I was in the cast as the pumpkin.”

  “You were the pumpkin boy?” Nikki stared at him with a furrow in her brow.

  “Yes, and I’ll take the job,” Ken said. “Instead of paying me, buy my sister’s plane ticket and we’re all yours.”

  Five

  The airplane approached Honolulu Harbor, giving Jolie a stunning view of Diamond Head, a saucer-shaped crater from the island’s volcanic past. Down below lay a crescent of beaches, hotels, and resorts glittering off the blue-green waters frosted white with surf.

  “Isn’t it beautiful?” Nikki leaned against Jolie to get her share of the view. Usually, she insisted on taking the window seat, but because of Jolie’s emotional heartache, she’d made a supremely friendly sacrifice on this trip.

  “It is,” Jolie said, trying to keep her voice steady. She’d been tearing up off and on during the entire flight. This view should have been shared with Warren Wayne, her groom up until the hour they were supposed to be married.

  “I’d ordinarily try to get a few shots, but didn’t want your big nose in the way,” Nikki said, angling her jumbo super fancy digital SLR camera.

  Jolie leaned back as far as she could. “Sorry to inconvenience you, but seeing as how you’re using Warren’s ticket, and I just had the absolute worst day in my life …”

  Nikki craned her lens across Jolie’s boobs. “You’ll get over it. I’d say it was a lucky escape.”

  Snap. Snap. Snap.

  “Do you always have to be so heartless?” Jolie gave her roommate a shove. They’d been classmates and friends ever since preschool when she, Nikki, Terri, Sherelle, and Leanna were in the same Bumblebee dance class.

  They’d beaten out the Ladybugs, the Fireflies, and the Hummingbirds team for first place the year they graduated from Montessori and had been best friends since.

  “Only because I, of all people, know Warren wasn’t your true love,” Nikki sa
id. “That’s why you picked sentimental Terri to be your maid of honor. She bought the faux romance hook, line and sinker. Can you believe she was the one crying at your busted wedding? If I hadn’t spied on Warren …” Nikki gave an exaggerated shudder.

  “Please, spare me the details. I don’t get men. I seriously don’t. As if that last minute was so important—because believe me, it had to have been with less than a minute to go.”

  “I was suspicious when Leanna told me they smuggled a giant cakebox into the guys’ hotel room.”

  “Guess the bachelor party ran all night, and he couldn’t get it up until morning.” Jolie took her eyes from the approach to Honolulu International Airport.

  “Yep, and I knew something was wrong when Terri’s husband, Ryker, told her the guys were too drunk to get into their tuxes.” Nikki snapped a shot of the condos and palm trees rearing up right before the airplane touched down on the runway.

  Jolie bit back another bout of tears. “I don’t even know why I’m so sad. You’re right. It was a lucky escape. Except right now, I should be kissing my husband on landing at our honeymoon destination. Instead, I get to spend it with you.”

  “Oh, I think you’ll get luckier than hanging out with me,” Nikki said. “I’m going to be busy blogging for that travel website I’ve a contract with.”

  “You can’t leave me alone.” Jolie jutted out her lower lip. “Or I might slit my wrists.”

  “You’re way stronger than that.” Nikki put her camera into the bag. “You did so well at the reception.”

  “Ha, fooled you. My smile was as caked on as my makeup. Now, just leave me on the beach to burn to a crisp. Maybe I’ll disappear into the sand and never be seen again.”

  “Spare the drama.” Nikki unbuckled her seatbelt as they prepared to deplane. “There’s a hot guy who’s been checking you out the entire flight.”

  “Where?” Jolie scanned the passengers in line to deplane.

  “Aisle seat across from us.”

  “Oh, he must be jealous of our view. Right hand side of the plane gets the best scenery flying into Honolulu. Besides, he’s with that woman.” Jolie spotted the man who was solicitously helping a pretty brown-haired woman get her bags together. “I’m not a home wrecker. Not even a relationship wrecker. And I’m definitely not going on the rebound with a cheater.”

  “Wow, that’s an assload of assumptions you just made,” Nikki said. “As for rebounding, didn’t you tell me Warren’s screw-up screwed up your timetable? College by twenty-two. Check. Business by twenty-five. Check. Engaged by twenty-eight. Check. Marriage by twenty-nine, baby by thirty, second baby and minivan by thirty-three …”

  “Stop!” Jolie pressed her hands over her abdomen. “If you’re not going to allow me to be perfectly miserable on my non-honeymoon, you can stay on the plane and turn around.”

  Nikki did her annoying whistle—the one she always used to preface a particularly snotty remark.

  “And miss Prince Charming with a glass slipper? I think not.” She pointed her finger at Jolie as if she were a fairy godmother.

  Right. As if anyone still believed in fairy tales.

  Six

  “I am not wearing makeup.” Jolie pressed her lips together and grimaced at Nikki. “I’m on my bittermoon and I’m not doing a thing. No leg shaving. No moisturizing. No exfoliating, no nothing.”

  After all, wearing makeup her usual way hadn’t kept her from being dumped at her wedding.

  “Okay …” Nikki held up a flowery wrap she’d bought at the hotel’s souvenir shop. “You should at least wear aloha clothes for the luau we’re due at.”

  “Why? As pale as I am, there’s no way anyone will mistake me for a hula girl.” Jolie nevertheless grabbed the skimpy wrap and tied it over her bikini. Even if she wanted to be grumpy, she couldn’t spoil Nikki’s assignment to find the most romantic things to do in Waikiki, as if hanging around with a jilted girlfriend qualified.

  “Fine, have it your way. No makeup,” Nikki said. “It’s not like I care if handsome, single, available men swarm around you like bumblebees buzzing a hibiscus. And don’t pretend to be brokenhearted. You and Warren hardly ever talked when you were dating.”

  “That’s because he was always undercover.” Jolie had no clue why she had to defend the dastardly dickhead. He’d been undercover all right, with anyone but her. “Then it turns out he’s not even a real FBI agent.”

  “Just a Bad Boy for Hire posing as one,” Nikki said. “I always was suspicious about him. Remember when I told you—”

  “Please, enough.” Jolie held her hand up to cut off her friend and her detailed, meticulous memory. “Let’s go to the luau. Might as well enjoy the half-naked male dancers. At least Warren’s not here to gawk at the hula girls.”

  “That’s the spirit!” Nikki held up her hand for a high five.

  Jolie ignored it and opened the door of their hotel room. Fifteen minutes later, they were in line at the luau, holding their tickets and waiting to get to the buffet table.

  “This feels like a cafeteria back in school,” Jolie complained. “Line them up with their meal cards, hurry them through and seat them all in a row.”

  “They do have the system down,” Nikki said, as a woman looped a purple and white lei over her neck.

  “Oh look, that man’s cutting the line.” Jolie pointed to the backside of a well-built man wearing a tank top, board shorts and flip-flops. His sandy hair glinted with blond highlights and his even, smooth tan showed he was a guy who spent time outdoors. Too bad he was pushing a woman in a wheelchair.

  “It’s that guy who was checking you out,” Nikki exclaimed. “Ah … look how sweet he is. He’s getting food for that woman. I wonder if she’s his sister.”

  “Sister, humph,” Jolie said. “Guys aren’t so nice to their sisters. Trust me, I know.”

  Her dearest brother had not only been in the room with the stripper when Warren was caught, but had complained that he hadn’t had his turn yet.

  Disgusting.

  “They do look very similar,” Nikki said “Her hair is a little darker than his, but look at the facial shape and bone structure. They’re good looking enough to be movie stars.”

  Jolie’s eyes rolled. Nikki obviously had a crush on Mr. Nurse Maid, although to be honest, he was pretty hot. Tanned, tall, not too muscular, but well-defined, he was a man who’d have every female drooling—if he wasn’t one hundred percent devoted to the woman Nikki wished was his sister.

  “If you like him so much, why don’t you ask them to sit at our table? Unless the seats are reserved.” Jolie glanced at the ticket to see if a seat number was printed on it.

  Nikki was off like a shot, parting her way through the crowd. People glared at her, sniffing indignantly at the brazenness of her line-jumping.

  “Excuse me, this isn’t China,” one haughty old lady said. “The line starts back there.”

  “No speak-ah, no speak-ah,” Nikki said in a god-awful imitation accent.

  “That’s what I hate about tourists,” a man wearing a loud aloha shirt huffed. “So rude.”

  Jolie giggled and followed her girlfriend. “Excuse me. That’s my exchange student. I have to keep an eye on her. Excuse me.”

  Now that she and Nikki were standing directly in back of the godlicious hunk, now what?

  The line of people grumbled louder. “Line cutters. Can you believe it? I ought to complain.”

  “We paid for premium seating and now this?”

  Nikki tapped the hunky man’s arm and whispered in his ear. Wow. Jolie had no idea her roomie was so fast!

  Mr. Hunk of Tan smiled with teeth so white they dazzled, and suddenly, Jolie wished she had dabbed a little makeup on her face—actually make that a full makeover. Her heart did that pitter-patter flip-flop dance step she learned in preschool, and just like she’d fallen off the stage in her starring role in the Crippled Lamb play, she felt her knees weaken and buckle as a worrisome flare of heat sent her pulse skyrock
eting.

  “I’m so sorry,” the tan godman announced. “These two ladies are with me. I was holding their spot. But if you’d like, we can all go to the back.”

  The woman in the wheelchair agreed, nodding emphatically, but of course, everyone relented. Jolie’s cheeks flushed hot at how they’d taken advantage of the crippled lady, but then again, it was Nikki’s fault. She was the one who had the hots for the Slab of Abs standing so close to them.

  Jolie turned her back, but it was hopeless. She was enveloped in the scent of his aftershave, body wash, and the cascade of pheromones flooding from the Barbie doll’s boyfriend’s pores.

  For a moment, she was glad she wasn’t married, but the thought of being back on square one in the marriage game threw her into a tizzy of panic. All the good ones were taken.

  Ken couldn’t stop feasting his eyes on Jolie Becker, the girl he’d rehearsed with in fifth grade. She’d probably forgotten him by now since he’d had to transfer schools when his parents divorced, but he could never forget the flaming red hair, the determination, and the fierce competitiveness that young lady had.

  She’d beaten out girls with more drama experience for the part. She might not have been the best dancer either, but she’d practiced her heart and soul out. Many afternoons, Ken had spied on her as she went through the routine over and over again in the back of the gym while her friends sat around gossiping.

  Too bad Jolie wasn’t returning the googly eyes, at least not for him. Instead, she’d turned all her attention to Carol. Rather than get her own food, she pushed Carol to a table near the front of the stage, and moved the plates from Carol’s lap to the table.

  “Don’t expect me to do all the work,” Nikki said, holding her plate to the server for slices of kalua pig. “And yes, I’d like a large scoop of poi.”

  “I’ve got this,” Ken replied to Nikki while waving off the poi. “After all, you’re not hiring me. I’m volunteering.”