“Wow,” Ruby muses as she leans in. “The cats are going to love her.”
I shake my head and whisper back. “I doubt she gives belly rubs.”
“Candy, we need to discuss the cultural elements,” the woman snaps without acknowledging anyone else, her voice carrying a level of authority that alludes to the fact that she’s never been told no in her life. “I’ve been researching, andsome of these traditional Hawaiian touches are going to read as too ethnic for your brand demographic.”
The trade winds suddenly feel a lot less friendly.
“Alana Kapahu handles all my business partnerships and brand management,” Candy nods to Ruby, Lani, and me, still holding the ring light at the perfect angle to highlight her chiseled cheekbones. I have a feeling this is going to be a running theme, or a glowing theme as it were. “She’s absolutely brilliant at market positioning—and she’s helping with the wedding planning.”
Ruby’s eyebrows have climbed so high they’re practically hiding in her hairline. Lani squints at Candy as if trying to read very illuminated hieroglyphics.
“Too ethnic?” I hear myself ask. “We’re in Hawaii.”
Alana removes her sunglasses and fixes me with a look that could stop the flow of lava. “I understand you’re enthusiastic about local color, but Candy’s audience expects aspirational content. Accessible luxury, not cultural education—or appropriation. We need the wedding to feel exotic but approachable, tropical but refined.”
“You want Hawaii without the Hawaiian,” I say slowly.
“I want a wedding that photographs well and appeals to Candy’s two million followers,” Alana replies smoothly. “Think less indigenous culture, more luxury resort aesthetic.”
The roosters have stopped crowing. Even they can sense the tension.
A third vehicle pulls up—a snazzy red convertible, and out steps a woman who makes the word bombshell seem inadequate. The woman has curves that should be illegal in international waters, long dark hair that catches the late afternoon light like silk, and red lips that could stop traffic in multiple time zones. Her form-fitting coral dress leaves very little to the imagination, and her high heels make her legs look like they go on for approximately forever. Also beach ball boobs, but in all fairness, she looks like she came upon them honestly, unlike Candy, who likely shelled out the big bucks. I might need to get her doctor’s name, you know, just in case.
“Aloha, everyone!” The woman practically purrs as she approaches our group. “I’m Halea Palani, your wedding planner, and I am so excited to make this the most sensual, romantic wedding Kauai has ever seen! I’m from Maui, so I’ll make this the most sensual, romantic wedding that Maui has ever seen,too.”
She immediately zeroes in on Erwin and quickly traipses over before placing a manicured hand on his arm, and looks as if she’d like to slurp him up like he were a puddle of deliciousness. Clearly, she’s starved for some physical attention if even Erwin looks appetizing.
“And you must be the lucky groom,” she purrs. “Candy is absolutely gorgeous, but I can see why she fell for you. There’s something so appealingly vulnerable in your eyes.”
Speaking of eyes, either she needs glasses, or Erwin paid her off in advance.
Erwin turns a shade of red best described as ready to pick.
Before I can break into song and dance about the appeal of paunch bellies and quickly receding hairlines, the god of perfect timing drives up and hops out of his weathered truck looking like he just stepped out of my hottest fantasies and into my cold reality.
Detective Koa Hale chooses this exact moment to stride our way, clipboard in hand, for his routine security check of the resort grounds. He stops dead when he sees our little gathering as his dark eyes take in the scene with a professional assessment that makes my pulse do things I’m not ready to acknowledge.
He’s wearing his usual off-duty uniform of jeans and a navy polo shirt that does excellent things for his shoulders, and his black hair is slightly mussed from the trade winds.
Have I mentioned he’s hotter than lava, has a body that can stop a bullet, and that perma-scowl on his face makes women swoon from three islands away? And more importantly, have I mentioned that my lips are intimately acquainted with his?
“Good evening,” he nods at the entire lot of us, his voice carrying that particular gravelly quality that makes a simple greeting sound like a naughty promise.
The man could read a grocery list and make me beg for more.
“I just thought I’d stop by and check the perimeter beforethe weekend festivities.” He stretches a short-lived smile my way before frowning at Erwin if he foresees disaster.
And let’s face it, if pattern is prophecy, then he sees just that.
I may have clued Koa in on the fact that my ex was sauntering onto the island to commit unholy matrimony in my presence, and neither Koa nor I was amused.
“Detective Hale,” I say, aiming for professional and landing somewhere in the vicinity of breathless. Honestly, who could blame me? I clear my throat. “This is Erwin Tuggle Julep and his fiancée, Candy Tassels,” I continue. “They’re the lucky couple tying the knot this week.”
Koa’s expression doesn’t change, but I catch the microscopic tightening around his jaw.
“And,” I continue, relishing it more than necessary, “just so you know, I had the great misfortune of being the first Mrs. Erwin Tuggle Julep. Emphasis onhadandmisfortune.”
Okay, so I merely reiterated that info so that we’re all on the same page—and when I say, we, I mean Erwin.
