Fake Marriage Box Set

I snorted. “You're just my driver,” I joked. Then, I shook my head. “You've also been great since I've been here, Mark. Thanks for that.”

Mark shrugged, looking a bit awkward. “Are we supposed to hug or something now, dude?” he asked.

I laughed. “Nah. But you are supposed to drive me over to the massage parlor. Let's go.”

“Sure, sure,” Mark said, pushing up from his sprawl on the couch and leading the way toward the door. He opened it and bowed me through, an ironic gesture that had me rolling my eyes again.

At the massage parlor, I waited patiently out in the front room for Gretchen to finish up her current appointment. I hadn't told her that I was coming over, but I had asked what her schedule looked like for the day, so I knew that she would have her lunch break after this appointment. I wanted to surprise her and take her out to a place down on the waterfront which had just opened the week before. They were reputed to have really good seafood, and I knew Gretchen would probably like it.

I flipped through one of the ladies’ magazines on the table, glancing impatiently at my watch now and then. It was my fault for showing up fifteen minutes early, but I'd wanted to make sure I got to spend as much time with her as I could. She'd been busy lately with the vacationers beginning to arrive, and even in the evenings when she didn't have customers, she was usually pretty tired and ready just to curl up and watch a movie with me.

Finally, she came out of the massage room with her client, a tall and leggy blonde with shockingly green eyes and a scattering of freckles across her nose. She was the kind of girl who I would have gone for back in New York, but next to Gretchen's exotic looks, she just wasn't that appealing.

She recognized me, though.

“Oh, my god!” she said, putting a hand to her mouth. “Christian Wall?”

I fought to keep from grimacing. Back in New York, whenever girls had recognized me, I'd been so suave, because of course, they recognized me. Here in Hawaii, most people seemed to either not know who I was or else not care who I was. And I'd come to like having that anonymity.

“Hey,” I said, giving her a winning smile. “Are you enjoying Hawaii as much as I am?”

The woman laughed, tossing her head a little, no doubt to make sure I noticed her long, flowing hair. “Yeah, it's great here, isn't it? I just got the best massage, too. That's what you're here for, right?”

I glanced at Gretchen. “I'm just here to see a friend,” I told her.

“Oh, cool,” the woman said. “You should consider getting a massage.” She stretched, her shirt riding up a little and revealing a tanned swath of flat stomach. “I feel great.” Then, she narrowed her eyes at me, a smirk on her face. “But you know what would make me feel better? If you would do me the honor of taking you out to dinner tomorrow nigh

t. I know this great little place near my resort, with these incredible ocean views and even better food.”

I blinked at her. On the one hand, I appreciated how direct she was. Usually, I was the one asking girls out, not the other way around. I liked a girl who knew what she wanted and went after it.

My eyes slipped over to Gretchen again. I winked at her. “Sorry, sweetheart,” I told the blonde girl. “No can do, I've got other plans for tomorrow.”

“Oh,” she said, looking disappointed. Then, she shrugged. “Maybe some other time, then.” She dug into her purse for a moment and handed me a crisp business card. Ashley McMahon, Public Defendant. “That's got my number on it,” she said. “You should give me a call. I'm here for two weeks.”

I grinned at her and then tried to school my expression back to neutral, knowing that Gretchen must be watching this. I slid the card into my pocket, not even bothering to put it in my wallet. As much as I appreciated her advances, if I was going to go home with anyone in Hawaii, it was going to be Gretchen.

“If I have a free night, I'll give you a call,” I promised the woman.

She smiled one last time and came in for a quick hug. Then, she finally left the massage parlor, leaving a cloying trail of perfume in her wake.

Gretchen wrinkled her nose and then turned to me, her hands on her hips. “You're already up to something tomorrow, huh?” she asked, her voice sounding steely.

I raised an eyebrow at her. “Look, I can't help if women hit on me, all right? I haven't been sleeping with anyone except you; you should know that.”

Gretchen rolled her eyes, but I could see the way she was starting to look like she might cry. I couldn't for the life of me figure out what her problem was; had she not seen the way I had just turned down a date with that woman Ashley?

“But you're dating other people,” Gretchen said. “You might not be sleeping with them, but you're, what, going to get dinner with someone else tomorrow? See how things go, and maybe you'll start sleeping with other women.”

I blinked at her. And then realized what her confusion was. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I said, holding up both hands in a placating gesture. I took a step toward her, but she took a step back. “Gretchen, hey,” I said even more gently. “What I meant is that I'm taking you out tomorrow night. You have no idea how much I'd rather go to dinner with you than with some random girl who just knows my name and whatever has been in the news about me.”

Gretchen looked confused and then embarrassed. “Oh,” she said. She picked at the hem of her sleeve, and I couldn't help but find her shyness endearing.

“I'm not sleeping with anyone else,” I told her. “I'm not dating anyone else, either. I have zero desire to do so.”

“Sorry,” Gretchen said.

I laughed a little. “Honestly, it's kind of cute, seeing you get jealous like that,” I told her. “I've had women jealous over me before, but it’s different with you.” I shook my head. I didn't know what it was about her, maybe the fact that I was flattered that Gretchen was jealous that I might want to sleep with some other woman?