The Pregnancy Proposition. Andrea Laurence

once I have a plan.”

      “Well, start your plans with having dinner with me tonight,” he said.

      Paige narrowed her gaze at him, wondering if perhaps she’d heard him wrong. It was one thing for her to fantasize about him, but why would a Polynesian god like him want to have dinner with her? Was he just being polite because he knew she was here alone? “You want to have dinner with me?”

      Mano chuckled and shoved his free hand into the pocket of his jeans. “Why is that such a ridiculous proposition? You eat, don’t you?”

      “Well, yes, of course I eat. It’s just—”

      “And you don’t have plans, do you?” he interrupted.

      “No plans,” she confirmed reluctantly. She wasn’t sure why the idea of having dinner with him unnerved her so much. She should be relieved. This was one meal she could have with a man where she wouldn’t have to worry about him watching her critically across the table the whole time.

      She could just imagine her family’s response if she told them she was having dinner with a blind man— “He’d be perfect for you!”

      Perhaps that was the key to his interest. He didn’t know what she looked like. Her sister, Piper, had once suggested she try dating one of her blind patients. The helpful idea in Piper’s mind had only sounded cruel in her own head. Maybe her sister was on to something, though.

      “Excellent. I’d love for you to join me tonight at the owner’s table of The Pearl. It’s our seafood restaurant and was rated as one of the best on the island the last five years running. You’ll love it.”

      The owner’s table? That made more sense to Paige than the idea of a date or something, although she had to admit she felt a pang of disappointment that went straight to her core. This was some kind of “schmooze with the rich hotel guests” kind of thing. With her luck, he’d probably try to talk her into buying a time-share or something. Mano would certainly be disappointed to find out she wasn’t the usual wealthy penthouse guest. Of course, a nice dinner with him was certainly better than anything else she had planned, which was a big nothing all by herself.

      “I can give you some suggestions on how to spend your time here,” he added almost as if to sweeten the deal, as though a free meal and looking at his handsome face all night wasn’t enough.

      “Okay,” she said at last. “You’ve talked me into it.”

      “I usually don’t have to try this hard to get a woman to have dinner with me,” Mano said with a wry smile. “I was about to be offended.”

      Paige felt a blush of embarrassment rise to her cheeks. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I just can’t fathom why you’d want to spend your evening with me.”

      For the first time, Mano looked at her, as though he were looking into her eyes. Even with his gaze hidden behind his dark glasses, she felt an unexpected connection snap between them and her body reacted. Her tongue felt thick in her mouth as her lips dried out like a desert. Her heart started racing in her rib cage and she suddenly wished this dinner was more than just politeness and tourist tips.

      “Why wouldn’t I want to spend time with you?” he asked.

      Paige didn’t want to list out all her flaws. Normally, she didn’t have to tell a man what was wrong with her. They knew all too well just by looking at her. “You’re busy. And you don’t even know me,” she replied.

      “Hōkū likes you. He’s the best judge of character I know. Anyway, by the end of dinner tonight, we won’t be strangers any longer. I’ll meet you at six.”

      Paige stood dumbstruck on the lawn as Mano and Hōkū continued on their morning walk. She wasn’t quite sure how any of this had happened, but now she was having dinner with him. A bolt of panic shot through her, sending her on a fast path back to her hotel suite.

      What was she going to wear?

      * * *

      “She’s traveling alone, sir. Her reservations were made and paid through a travel agency. I tried to Google her and I didn’t come up with anything but an obituary for her grandfather, who died a few weeks ago in Southern California. She doesn’t even have a Facebook account.”

      Mano listened to Chuck report back on his penthouse guest as he dressed for dinner. “Is my tie straight?” he asked, turning to him.

      “Yes, sir. Don’t you think it’s odd that there’s nothing about her anywhere?”

      These days it was a rarity, but that didn’t mean there was something wrong with it. “Maybe she’s mastered the fine art of living under the radar. It’s a highly underrated skill these days. Not everyone feels the need to broadcast their every thought and feeling into cyberspace. I don’t.”

      “I was able to get a little information on her deceased grandfather,” Chuck added. “Apparently, he was a former military man that went into real estate development after World War II. He’s credited with starting the tract house boom of the 1950s, creating affordable housing for returning soldiers to start families. That, along with the population growth in California at the time, made him a fortune.”

      That was interesting. His shy flower was an heiress to quite a large chunk of money. She certainly didn’t act like one. “So her grandfather invented cookie-cutter suburbia? That’s quite an accomplishment.” Mano straightened his suit coat. “Anything else?”

      “I did ask Wendy about her. She handled her check-in.”

      That caught Mano’s attention. “And?”

      “She said Miss Edwards was very willowy, tall and thin. She was pale with an unremarkable face.”

      That was an odd way to describe her. “Unremarkable? Is that good or bad?”

      “I don’t know, sir.”

      Mano sighed. People with eyes simply didn’t use them the way they should. If he had his sight back, he would study every detail the way he did now with his hands. He’d talked to multiple staff members, and none of them could tell him what Paige looked like. It was as though she was a ghost that only he could sense. “What time is it?”

      “Almost six.”

      “I’d better get going then.” Mano made his way through the suite. He counted his steps, knowing his path through the rooms to the front door like the back of his hand. At the door, he whistled for Hōkū and waited for the sound of clicking toenails across the marble floor to come closer. He put on the dog’s service harness and gave him a good scratch behind the ears. “Thanks for the information, Chuck.”

      “Sure thing. Have a nice dinner,” he added with a teasing tone that Mano ignored.

      Chuck disappeared into the elevator as Mano rang the doorbell and waited for Paige to answer. It took her a moment, probably because she was wearing heels. He heard the slow, unsteady steps approaching the door. She must not be used to wearing dressy shoes.

      The door swung open and he was greeted with the scent of the hotel’s coconut soap, a touch of Chanel No. 5 and the underlying hint of hand sanitizer he’d come to associate with Paige. His muscles tightened as he drew her into his lungs, making him more eager than he should’ve been to spend the evening with one of his hotel guests.

      “I’m ready,” she said, almost breathless.

      He took a step back, then offered his arm to escort her over to the elevator. Mano noticed she leaned a bit more on him than he expected. Definitely the heels. It couldn’t possibly be that she wanted to huddle close to a blind man, could it? The tightened muscles throughout his whole body hoped so.

      “Does Hōkū get to join us for dinner?” she asked as they made their way to the restaurant.

      “Yes. Hōkū goes everywhere. Even before I lost my eyesight, it was the policy of the hotel to welcome all service animals throughout the site. This