Somewhere on Maui (an Accidental Matchmaker Novel) (12 page)

She had included her phone number and e-mail address.

Adam sat back, a slow smile tugging up one side of his mouth. “What a mess,” he said aloud. He scrolled through the changes in her profile. He liked her more than ever. Action flicks? Heart scars? They had a lot in common.

He hunched over the keyboard, his fingers flying.

Zoe wore an olive-green tank that brought out her eyes, a cute canvas fishing hat, and left her hair flowing down her back to meet Brad Osborn, the man who had responded to meeting her for a beach walk and interview for the article. Her neck felt much better today, and she left the brace off.

She drove to nearby
Paia Beach Park and pulled up under the palm trees next to the swath of lawn. The park was well used, with a youth center on one side and a community basketball court on the other—the kind of unpretentious community setting that still heralded paradise, fronted by a curving beach with a sandy bottom ideal for swimming.

Brad approached, an athletic-looking
man of medium height with sun-shot blond hair whom she recognized from his profile picture. He had a big, shiny black Lab on a leash,an
d
Sylvester went into hyperactive friendliness. The awkwardness of introducing herself was lost in the drama of untangling the dogs.

“Gorgeous dog, Brad,” Zoe said.

“This is Shamu. Yes, I named her after the famous orca.” Brad had a clean white smile and freckles scattered across his nose. She found herself grinning right back.

“Perfect name for such a beautiful dog. Let’s get them down on the beach where they can play.” They walked across the park and unleashed the dogs under the swishing ironwood trees. Shamu and Sylvester promptly galloped down the sand, frolicking in and out of the mellow turquoise waves breaking on the beach.

“So you like surfing.” Zoe glanced at Brad’s well-defined arms. “I remember that from your profile.”

“Yeah. My favorite
break is Hookipa, but Paia Bay breaks pretty nice sometimes. Nothing today.”

“Right. Even I can see that
it’s flat. I’d like to learn to surf someday.” They walked along the harder sand near the water, and Shamu showed the origin of her name, leaping into the ocean and barking for Sylvester to follow. Brad threw a tennis ball, and the dog bounded into the water, swimming after the yellow ball.

“I could take you out surfing.
There are some great beginner spots on the south side of the island—you know this is the north side, right?”

“I do now. Sounds fun. Let me think about it,” Zoe said as Brad pried the ball out of Shamu’s jaws for another toss.

“So what about this Internet dating article? You said you’re a journalist?”

“Yeah. Independent. This is a story on
using the Internet for dating after divorce. It’s for a women’s magazine.”

“So I take it
you’re divorced.”

“Yes.”

“Me too. That’s one thing you can talk about—a lot of us trying the Internet thing are divorced.”

“I imagine it varies from
site to site. There are a lot of different demographics being marketed to. How long have you been Internet dating?”

“Couple of years.”

“Oh. Wow. Tell me more about that.”

Brad glanced up from petting Shamu, who’d flopped panting on the ground with her new buddy Sylvester plastered to her side. He had bright blue-green eyes set in a fan of attractive sun creases. “I can tell
you’re surprised it’s been that long.”

“I guess. I didn’t realize—I thought people dated awhile, found someone to be with, and quit.” Zoe shrugged, embarrassed that he’d read her so easily, embarrassed that she didn’t know more about actual dating patterns.

“You’re thinking I must be a loser. I know that expression.” Brad stood up, a powerful movement, and Zoe was aware of a little tingle somewhere in her midsection. So Adam wasn’t the only guy she could feel some chemistry for. It was reassuring.

“Actually, the opposite is true. I’m too picky.” Brad winked and turned with a snap of his fingers for his dog. Shamu bounded up and trotted beside him as he walked. Zoe dug her notebook out of her pocket and hurried to catch up. 

“So, a couple of years. Are you searching for something specific in a relationship that’s made it hard to find someone?”

Brad slanted a glance at her. She felt it on her face like a touch. “I’m looking for a really quality
woman. Most of those are either too young, married, or live somewhere other than this island.”

Zoe made a pretend note. “Tell me more about the qualities of this mythical
woman.”

“Has her own career and income. Smart. Beautiful. Creative. Fun to be with.” He
threw the ball for Shamu, who seemed to have found a second wind, and the Lab hurtled after it. Each word felt like a caress as he said it, and it made her nervous. She hadn’t planned to like Brad or be attracted to him, just to interview him.

That nervousness made her voice a little sharp as she said, “Tell me more about yourself. What makes you worthy of such a paragon?”

“Well. For one thing, I understand the word ‘paragon,’ which, I assure you, doesn’t come up in conversation all that often on Maui. For another, I’m pretty successful and considered fun to be with.”

Zoe eyed his frayed board shorts and plain black tank shirt. He certainly wasn’t advertising that success. “What do you do?”

“I have my own company.” Brad didn’t seem to want to pursue this line of discussion, which was a surprise to her. In her interviewing experience, most men loved to tell how successful they were and why they were a great catch. “Want to hear some dating stories? I’ve been on some doozies.”

“Sure.” Zoe made notes, laughing aloud at some of his experiences. He’d taken a Rastafarian
woman to a Sufi dance where “the
pakalolo
smoke was so thick I got asthma” and had an experience with a woman who practiced “crystal healing” and had tried to adjust his aura with a chunk of amethyst. “I told her purple wasn’t my color. I’m more of a turquoise guy. Goes with my eyes.”

“So it does,” Zoe said, momentarily distracted by those eyes.

He went on. “Then there was the bodybuilder.”

“I met a bodybuilder too! Maybe we met the same person?”

Brad snorted a laugh. “Maybe. I was unsure of gender for a while. Anyway, she enjoyed picking me up and carrying me around.”

“I take it this went beyond a first date.”

“Well. I like adventures, you might say. So, yes, that one went on for a while, but ultimately having a woman with thighs the size of my waist, who could literally crush me, wasn’t really the turn-on we’d both hoped.”

They walked awhile.

“What are you thinking?” Brad asked. They’d reached the jumble of black boulders that marked the end of the beach.

“I was trying to imagine being in bed with someone like that bodybuilder,” Zoe said, startled into truthfulness.

He shook his head. “You don’t really want to know.”

She laughed. Shamu and Sylvester turned at the rocks and ran back the way they’d come. “Should we go back?” Zoe asked.

“No. There’s a secret beach through here I’d like to show you.”

“I didn’t know
there was anything more.”

“Oh,
there’s more.” His voice was filled with suppressed laughter as he gave her a hand up the sandy incline into a thick stand of ironwood and naupaka
trees. Zoe glanced back and called for Sylvester, and the dogs caught up with them.

Brad didn’t let go of her hand as he led her along a sandy path that tracked the edge of the rocks, and she found she liked that. Down another incline, and they were in a tiny, sheltered half-moon beach with a wide, sparkling area of enclosed sea. An old bunker nearby was painted with bright artistic graffiti, and several nude
men and women sunned themselves along the private beach. Brad turned to see her reaction, mischief sparkling in his eyes.

“Aha. The local nudie beach I heard about but didn’t know how to find,” Zoe said.

“Want to go in?” Brad peeled off his shirt and his hands went to the waist of his board shorts.

“You go ahead. That’s a bit much for me on a first date,” Zoe said, turning back up onto the soft path
through the trees. She kept up a good pace back to the main beach.

“Zoe.” Brad’s voice was apologetic from behind her. “I was just teasing. Sorry if that seemed a little forward.”

“Well, the nudie beach adventure is definitely going in the article,” Zoe said brightly. Her cheeks felt hot. “Great stuff. Very funny. Thanks for taking the time to let me interview you.”

“Zoe.” He put his hand on her arm. She stopped and turned toward him. His shirt was still off and his physique was hard not to stare at, so she gazed at his eyes—and they really were turquoise. “I’d like to see you again, talk more.”

“Okay,” she heard herself saying. “I walk the dog here a lot. Tomorrow morning work for you? I’ll wear my suit. A swim really would feel good.” A blush swept her face, thinking of swimming with him naked.

“I can move a few things around and make that happen. See you tomorrow, same time.” He walked her to her car, opened the door for her with a courtly little bow. She laughed again as Sylvester hopped in, whining for his friend to follow.

“Sylvester’s smitten.”

“I am too,” Brad said. “See you tomorrow.” He closed her door with a decisive click and walked with Shamu to his car. She pulled out of the parking spot, catching sight of his vehicle. It was a silver BMW Z4, her favorite sports car to drool over. He had the convertible top down, and Shamu sat in the passenger side, looking very smug.

“Nice car,” she muttered, giving a little wave, which he returned. “Pretty successful with your own business, huh? I’m Googling you, Brad Osborn, the minute I get home.”

Zoe’s fingers flew as she added the section on her “date” with Brad Osborn to the article. She described him as “An attractive, self-deprecating dot-com millionaire who wasn’t afraid to bare it all on a first beach walk.” She smiled as she described comparing notes on dating bodybuilders and what he was searching for in a woman and why she was hard to find on Maui. The article was really coming together as she researched statistics on the average time people spent Internet dating (again, statistics varied from site to site, but she lumped them together to come up with an average of six months to two years). It also appeared that, once people were used to online dating, they would return to it when and if they became single again. She called and e-mailed the site administrators of Match.com, eHarmony.com, and OkCupid for current statistics of return customers and dating patterns.

That done, she was ready to set up another date for herself. One more would round out the anecdotal stories. Typing her password in to the
site, she felt an undeniable sense of anticipation—maybe Adam had replied to her message.

Her dating
site in-box had more messages than it ever had. Apparently her “real self” was more attractive than the persona she’d been hiding behind! Not only that, but as she read through her messages, delaying opening the one from Adam, she found that many of them were happy to be interviewed for the article.

It appeared being truthful really was a better thing.

Done stalling, she clicked on Adam’s message, surprised to see a lot of text in the box.

Dear Zoe,

I’m so glad you are open to getting together again. It actually works out great that you don’t want to date “for real” right now, and I’m flattered that is what you would want to do with me. I feel the same. I am hesitant to admit this, but I haven’t been this attracted to a woman since high school. There, I said it. You aren’t the only one going out on a limb here, and I’m sorry if I hurt you with my overreaction at Charley’s and then the misunderstanding with my sister.

It
’s not a good time for me to start a relationship either. My mom gets home from a heart operation on Saturday, and my ex dropped off our children yesterday. Yes, I’m the stepfather to two amazing kids, Diego, age seven, and Serena, age six. You aren’t the only one with “heart scars!” My ex drinks, and she took the kids and left me when I confronted her one too many times about it. Then today she dropped them off, left them at my house like unwanted kittens. I am thrilled to have them back. I had been trying to see them since she left six months ago, and now I’m going to try to get guardianship.

So as far as “being true,” I need to tell you that my life is very full and complicated: I am the main caregiver for my mother. I
’m a contractor with a full-time, very challenging job, and I’m the loving father of two kids who need me. That sure as hell doesn’t seem like it would be very attractive to someone like you, with so much freedom in her life. But if you aren’t scared off, I would very much like to see you again whenever you’re ready.

You don
’t have to answer right away. Take all the time you need. I’ll be up to my eyeballs juggling life in any case. And by the way, this Internet dating thing is just not for me. The computer matched me with my cousin as my top compatible choice, so I know the stupid thing doesn’t work. (Other than meeting you, which I will never forget.)

Here
’s my number and e-mail if you want to contact me. Neither are bogus. *grin* Tomorrow I’m deleting this account. Aloha, Adam.

“Oh.” Zoe found her hand covering her mouth, blinking back both moisture and a smile at the heartfelt rush of words before her. She took her phone out and programmed in his number and e-mail.