Page 5 of Just My Luck

She found Eddie and Mia standing at the entrance to hale twelve’s kitchen. The Royal Leilani Resort was composed of freestanding hales like this one, dreamy apricot stucco structures, some with one bedroom, others with more, each with its own little backyard terrace, some with a private swimming pool. They were landscaped with lush shrubbery punctuated by brilliant birds of paradise and lipstick-red anthurium.

Hale twelve was the most expensive, with four bedrooms, a full kitchen and the largest swimming pool at the resort. It was also currently unoccupied, which suited her perfectly. As the concierge, she had access to the reservations system and always knew which hales were going to be empty.

She’d also made friends with—okay, bribed—the housekeeping staff to let her, on occasion, stash the kids in whichever empty hale was available. Her usual babysitter was on the flaky side, to say the least. She couldn’t blame Odessa. When a big cruise ship came into town, it only made sense for her to take her guitar down to Ali’i Drive and see how much extra cash she could make busking.

She sincerely hoped Odessa was raking it in while she was dealing with whatever weird emergency had just occurred.

At least the kids weren’t hurt, although they seemed to be frozen in place.

“I’m sorry, did I hear you say there’s a man’s butt in here?”

“See?” Eddie pointed toward the sink. She peered over her little brother’s shoulder and saw that, sure enough, a man was crammed into the cabinet under the sink. He appeared to be immobilized, his upper half jammed inside and his lower half sticking out. She recognized the uniform of a Royal Leilani gardener, so at least he wasn’t a random criminal.

“Who are you and what are you doing to that poor sink?” she asked the man’s rear end.

“Do you think you could, maybe, help me out of here?” His muffled voice surprised her. He sounded pretty arrogant, actually, considering his situation. Shouldn’t he be begging her for help, with maybe a “pretty please” thrown in?

She eyed his ass in those work pants. Not bad, now that she thought about it. He was a very fit man, as the gardeners tended to be. They would probably be better equipped for this rescue mission than she was.

“Want me to get some of the gardeners in here?”

“No! I don’t want to waste anyone’s time.”

“I see. I guess my time isn’t quite so valuable.” She stepped across the floor and knelt next to him. Peering past him, she saw that a piece of broken drainpipe was pinning him to the cabinet. No wonder he couldn’t move.

“That’s not what I meant. You’re here and they’re not.”

“You don’t have to sound so upset about that fact.”

“I’m not— Jesus, could you just focus? I’m trying to get out of here without making a big mess.”

“A bigger mess,” she corrected. She was discovering that it was fun to tease this guy, whoever he was. She didn’t have much interaction with the gardeners. Her concierge job involved the kitchen and housekeeping staffs, the activities crew, and the guests. The groundskeepers did their own thing. They were supposed to keep the gardens immaculate and be invisible. They were definitely not supposed to be inside the hales. “What are you even doing in here?”

“Long story,” he gasped. “If you could just hold onto that pipe that’s stabbing me in the neck, I’ll try to inch my way out.”

“Okay, hang on. But I want that story.”

She had to drape herself over him and press her chest onto his back in order to reach the pipe. Awkward, to say the least. His body felt solid and muscular under hers. She didn’t mind it, not at all, and that struck her as odd. How could you have a comfort level with a person when you hadn’t even seen their face? But she trusted her own intuition implicitly, and gave a silent nod to her body. You’re saying he’s okay, so he probably is. But I might let my powers of observation weigh in too, if you don’t mind.

“Make it quick,” the man growled. “I’m getting claustrophobic in here.”

But the husky undertone in his voice told her that wasn’t the real reason he wanted this over with. She smiled to herself. Men were so transparent. Even when trapped under a sink they could get aroused. Gotta love ’em.

“Just to warn you, I will expect a proposal after this,” she quipped. “Otherwise my reputation will be ruined.”

From behind her, she heard Mia snort. “Don’t listen to her, Man-butt. Her reputation is hopeless.”

Mia had a point, although that same statement could be applied to everyone in their family. Her dear disaster of a father had taken care of that.

“Okay, I’ve got the pipe secured,” she told the man. “By the way, what’s your name? I’m Zara.”

“Jim.”

“Hi Jim. Too bad it’s not Slim Jim. Might be easier to get you out. Or jimmy you out, as the case may be.”

“Ha ha.” He didn’t seem to find her amusing, but that might be because he was cramping up, as well as bleeding from that cut in his neck. She gently worked the pipe a workable distance away from his flesh.

“Okay, you should be able to get away from this thing now. Please move slowly and don’t jostle me or this whole thing might break apart.”