Page 44 of True Abandon

Her face twists in a look of disgust mixed with intrigue. “What is he having waxed?”

“His…” I pretend to juggle something imaginary in my hands. “You know.”

She puts a hand over her mouth and gasps. “That’s hot. I’ve never been with a guy who manscapes. I bet it makes it looks bigger.”

“Lani!” I hit her in the arm.

“Imagine what it’s like without having to navigate the Amazon jungle.”

I mock gag. “What kind of guys are you sleeping with?”

“Not one who waxes.” She presses her ear up to the door. “I think they’re done.”

“Already?” No sooner are the words out of my mouth than the door opens.

Lani and I jump back and try to look as casual as possible. She holds her hands up to inspect a manicure while I whistle and look up at the ceiling.

Jax jolts slightly at the sight of us, then settles his eyes on mine. It may be my imagination, but he looks taller—more imposing and intimidating than he was before. For some reason, it makes me rise to my tip toes.

“This is Lani. She works here,” I blurt out.

Lani drops her hand and stands at attention like she was called by her drill sergeant.

“There’s a luau tonight,” she adds, clearly looking for something, anything to say. I kick her in the ankle. “But you probably won’t want to go. Because, you know, your balls.”

With his eyes still on mine, Jax clenches his jaw and nods his head. “I’ll be there.”

Without another word, he heads down the hall. Away from me. Away from Lani. And with a slight limp.

“You may want to send a bucket of ice up to his room,” Lani suggests.

I can only nod in agreement.

chapter NINE

The luau at the Kauai Princess is my favorite experience at the hotel. It must be the tourist in me that gravitates toward the scent of a tiki torches burning, and the sight of beautiful dancers, adorned in grass skirts, swaying to the music and singing with their hands.

“Aloha, Trish,” Cara, one of our employees greets me at the entrance. She has a lei of hot-pink tuberose in her hands.

“Aloha.” I raise my hands, palms up, declining the lei she is offering.

“It’s a sign of friendship. You must never refuse a lei from a friend.” Her long, slender arms almost dance in the air as she places it over my head.

“Mahalo. Enjoy your evening.” I walk down the path to where the weekly luau is taking place.

A large stage is set on the grass lawn to the side of the hotel. The early evening sky is draped behind it with the rippling tides from Kalapaki Bay in the foreground.

Guests feast on a buffet lined with Kalua pork, panko-crusted tropical fish, purple, sweet potato salad and lomilomi salmon. I walk past the dessert table and sneak a slice of chocolate haupia cake. The coconut pudding between the layers is the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted.

As I suck on my spoon, I look up at the stage where tourists are wearing leis and learning how to hula from staff members in grass skirts. People who would normally be shy or afraid to get up in a crowd, find it easy to be silly when they’re here on vacation. There is something magical about the island as if your fears are removed and your soul is set free.

Twenty large, white tables are in the audience with dark-purple, orchid centerpieces in the center of each. The Waimers, the young newlyweds, are feeding each other at their seats. Mrs. Waimer is holding a fork full of cod up to Mr. Waimer’s mouth as he sticks his tongue out and down. He looks like he’s having a dental cleaning. His tongue wraps around the metal as she slowly slides it out. While he chews, she leans forward and kisses him. The two start to make out all while he has a mouth full of fish. It may look sexy on television or in a book, but in real life, watching two people feed each other is probably the most disgusting thing I’ve ever witnessed, second to Jax’s mutilated leg in a hospital bed.

“Didn’t take you for a voyeur.”

I jump at the deep, male voice that drawls from behind me.

I turn around to see Jax standing there in a blue, linen button down and khaki, linen pants. His hair is gelled back, and his eyes are bright and piercing.