As they approached the main lobby, traffic in the halls increased, and Clarice was suddenly aware of the looks she and Harrison were getting as they pa.s.sed by. The looks from the employees made sense; of course they would acknowledge their boss as he walked by, especially one as high up the totem pole as Harrison. But even some of the guests were staring like they couldn't help themselves. She didn't fully understand it, but part of her felt a little bit of a rush at the attention.

Harrison noticed it, too. "I get the feeling we must make a very attractive couple."

Clarice turned red. "What?"

"The way everyone's staring at us," Harrison smiled down at her. "Like we're Richard Burton and Liz Taylor heading to our trailers."

She let out a nervous laugh and blushed, suddenly very interested in studying the floor. Feeling exposed, she cleared her throat and decided to make some small talk to change the subject. "So, are you sick of living in paradise yet?"

Harrison gave her playful grin. "Oh, yeah, I'm definitely hopping the first flight out back to beautiful dull, dreary, gray, freezing, boring England."

"Yeah, I knew that was a dumb question before I asked it," said Clarice.

"You don't have to take my word for it," said Harrison. He leaned down close to her and pointed discreetly at two employees talking near the lobby coffee service. "Those two, Molly and Corey, they came here as guests once and decided never to leave."

Clarice giggled. "Seriously?"

"And Bruce, the lad who checked your party in this morning? You didn't think that was a Balinese accent he had, did you?" Harrison cleared his throat and imitated Bruce's surfer-dude voice. "No way, bro. He packed up his blunts and board shorts, left the States, and never looked back."

Clarice laughed. "Just for reference on your future impressions of Bruce, Americans don't call it the States."

"Oh, right," said Harrison in his natural accent. "It's just America, isn't it? Or haven't you dropped it down to just Merica now?" This time, he went for a thick, ugly, Foghorn Leghorn-style southern accent. "Merica! f.u.c.k yeah!"

Clarice clung onto Harrison's arm as she bust up laughing. "That's what you think we all sound like, isn't it?"

"Yes, absolutely," said Harrison with a stone face. "Either you're a California surfer dude or you're Colonel Sanders, British ears are incapable of hearing anything else."

"Well, you guys say puma weird, so there," said Clarice in a teasing voice.

Harrison made a dramatic look like he was offended. "The nerve. We invented the language, you know."

"And you've been coasting on that for quite a while now, I think," said Clarice with a playful nudge.

Harrison's expression cracked and he laughed down at her. A few moments later, he stopped in front of the bank of elevators they had first taken when they checked in. "Well, here you are, Clarice. Do you think you can you find your suite from here?"

"If I can't, I have bigger problems that won't be solved by an escort." She pushed the call b.u.t.ton before realizing how her words sounded. "Uh, I mean, a walking escort. Not... not the other kind. Although, I guess that kind of escort also wouldn't help."

Harrison's face was bright with laughter. He smiled down at her, and gave her body another once-over that made her shiver inside. She remembered her conversation with the bellhop earlier, about staff enjoying the perks of their jobs, and felt a flushed heat creeping up her neck. If Harrison was the boss, suddenly the lax regulations on staff joining in on the fun seemed to make a lot more sense. There was no way that a man as attractive and charming as him was not taking advantage of the fine selection of willing women around here.

The thought that he was just another f.u.c.kboy looking to bang and bounce made her sad; he seemed like he could be a fun guy, otherwise.

"Thanks for your help," she said. "I'm sure I'll get lost again, so hopefully you're around next time, too."

She saw an unmistakable l.u.s.t rise in Harrison's eyes. "I certainly hope so," he said.

As the elevator arrived, Harrison bowed his head at her. "Have a lovely day, Clarice." He gave her a wink before he turned and headed back for the lobby.

As soon as the doors closed behind her, Clarice let out a huge sigh, and decided she was going to need to flip through that room service catalogue full of s.e.x stuff again very soon. In a place like this, if she couldn't find a man to help her, she was definitely going to need a machine.

5.

Harrison

Harrison blew through his managerial shift as fast as the clock would let him. As he juggled his duties, he ran through a mental list of every woman he had ever known - the ones whose names he could recall, anyway - trying to gather a list of potential candidates he could ask to be his pretend fiancee for the week. He was so distracted that twice he used the wrong names on employees he had known for years, and then he nearly tossed himself over a room service cart coming around a corner. His mind was a million miles away and that was all before he had even run into Clarice.

That small walk to the lifts had felt like time stopped, especially on a day like today. When he saw her there in the hallway in her pretty yellow dress, looking at once perplexed and composed, everything seemed to fade to the back of his mind. She was certainly the most nervous of her little holiday party, but that wasn't unusual. Harrison had coaxed plenty of first-timers into nights of wild, uninhibited s.e.x. They were usually the most fun once they let their hair down, and he really wanted the chance to do the same to her.

She was absolutely gorgeous. Something about that pet.i.te little body and her long dark hair made him want to lift her up against a wall and f.u.c.k her senseless, until she was screaming his name and begging him to stop. The l.u.s.tful image blazed through his mind like wildfire.

"Hey, did you eat yet?"

Bruce's voice surprised him out of his thoughts. Harrison looked up from where he sat at his big oak desk and saw his friend leaning casually in the doorway of his wide, bright office.

He shook his head. "Been busy. You off then?"

Bruce thumbed behind his shoulder. "Just clocked out, I'm all yours for the evening."

"You know just what to say to rev my engines," teased Harrison with a wink and a lazy smile. He gestured towards one of the plush leather chairs on the other side of the desk. Bruce closed the office door and took a seat.

Lunch was only a phone call away. "Oy, can you send up two plates of the fish tacos to my office please?"

"Hottest salsa," said Bruce.

"Yes, and extra picosa," said Harrison.

"We'll have it to you in ten minutes, sir," said the voice on the other end.

Harrison hung up and stood, wandering across the sandalwood floor towards the bar near the open porch doors. He poured two gla.s.ses of whiskey and handed one to Bruce as he returned to his seat.

"So, what's the plan?" asked Bruce.

Harrison rubbed a hand over his face and leaned back to throw his feet up on the desk. "Same as before, mate: find some woman willing to play along for this. It's not as if I can't make it worth her time."

"A wife for hire," said Bruce with a laugh and a drink.

"Precisely," said Harrison.

"Well, that shouldn't be too hard, I guess. This island is basically bursting with single women."

"No, no, that won't do," said Harrison. "It can't just be any woman pulled up from the beach. She has to be smart enough not to blow the cover, first of all. And she has to be believable."

"Believable?"

"A believable match for me."

"So... you're saying we're completely f.u.c.ked," said Bruce wickedly.

Harrison glared at him. "f.u.c.k off."

"C'mon, I'm just saying!" said Bruce, finishing his whiskey. "What would a believable match for you even look like, Harry? I mean, I've seen you with all manner of females, but this is different, right?"

"Yes, of course this is different. This isn't just trying to get my d.i.c.k wet, I'm supposed to be marrying this woman and producing all sorts of chubby baby heirs with her."

"What kind of woman are we looking at, then? Let's make a list of traits."

Harrison held his bottom lip in his fingers and thought. "Cla.s.sy, smart, well-mannered. Someone who isn't immediately repulsed by children. Attractive, because my mother, G.o.d bless her, is vain."

Bruce coughed. "Age-appropriate."

"Yes, thank you very much Bruce, let's put that on the list," said Harrison, with more than a little bitterness. Bruce was trying to stifle his laughter with little success, so he got up and wandered to the mini-fridge for a beer.

"I know a few women who would meet the description," Harrison continued, "but the problem is, nearly all of them hate my guts and would sooner throw me into the sea than help me."

"There's got to be someone on staff who would fit all of this. What about Constance, the lady who acquires all the local art for the decor? She's so fancy I'm afraid to talk to her.".

Harrison shook his head. "That's too risky. The ones that don't hate me are too old to want to f.u.c.k me, and anyway, I can't risk that father would find out they were an employee. It would seem suspicious."

"Suspicious that you fell in love at your workplace?" shrugged Bruce. "That happens all the time man, that's not unbelievable. It'd be like a Sam and Diane thing."

"Who?"

"Cheers? Didn't you guys have that show in the UK? You guys use that word enough, I just figured."

Harrison shrugged, and Bruce made a disappointed noise.

"Just trust me, he won't like it if he thinks she works here. He would find it lazy," said Harrison with a snort. "And I don't need any more wild rumors about me floating around the staff. Enough of them are true as it is, anyway."

There was a knock at the door as their food arrived, and the two hushed up about the problem until the room was private again. The delicious smell of fresh fish wafted into the warm air, and having a full stomach might make the problem at hand seem more solvable to Harrison.

During lunch they came up with their list and a plan. They'd call around and try to get a feel for who would be the most willing to go forward before giving them all the details. It was too risky to just blurt out the whole situation to everyone, because that's how rumors get started and it would surely get back to his father. Or even worse, someone might think they could use that information as blackmail.

They spent the next two hours calling every woman on the island that either Bruce or Harrison thought fit their profile. But almost every one of them refused or hung up on them before they even got past the point of asking for a favor, and then the few who were willing to hear more backed out when they heard it had something to do with fooling his father.

"Apparently, your reputation precedes you?" guessed Bruce as he hung up one such call.

"What reputation? I didn't realize the Moore's' had one to be concerned about. It's not like we're a family of sweatshop owners."

"Power is power," shrugged Bruce. "You're technically king of this island, dude, and your dad might as well be the Emperor of England to these women. They're probably scared something will happen to them if what you have planned doesn't work and your dad catches you lying to him."

"What, like he'll have her rubbed out for helping me making a fool of him? Don't be stupid."

"Is that really so crazy? Rich people do s.h.i.t like that all the time, I bet. Why wouldn't they, who's going to stop them?"

"Well, I can think of a few people my father should have had rubbed out by now, then, if he was going to do that. I think you've been watching too much telly."

Bruce cracked them open another round of beers and stretched out across both visitor chairs. "Point is, the truth doesn't matter, bro. Only matters what these women think is true, and they're not down to play as long as they feel that somehow it won't end well for them. Can you really blame them? They're probably thinking the world is less Pretty Woman and more Hostel, if you get my drift."

"I suppose you have a fair point, but it doesn't help my situation. I sincerely didn't think it would be this difficult to talk someone into a bit of acting," said Harrison with a shake of his head. "The telly lied to me, too."

"People talk big a lot, you know that. We see it on the beach all the time with those a.s.shole tourist surfers. Everyone thinks they're into intrigue and adventure, but when they get to that fork in the road where they have to pick between adventure and safety..." Bruce held up both his hands in a V, and then made a zooming noise as he split one of them apart. "They'll pick safety nine times out of ten."

"Yeah, well, not everyone does. I don't. You didn't," said Harrison, pointing.

"I said nine out of ten," repeated Bruce. "And even you and I make the safe choice way more than you think."

"Bullocks," challenged Harrison. "Name once you've seen me take a safe choice."

Immediately Bruce got c.o.c.ky. "Uh, how about that day at Padang Padang when you b.i.t.c.hed out of riding that 45 foot curl because you thought you saw a shark?"

"I did see a shark," insisted Harrison. "Brave doesn't have to be stupid."

"I'm not trying to rag on you for making the choice, I'm just trying to point out the choice that you made. That's exactly my point: you chose safety. I didn't say it was a bad thing, I just said some people choose safety way more than they choose adventure. You and me, we made some big adventure choices for sure, and that's why we're here right now. But don't kid yourself, bro. We're as comfy and cozy and safe here as a housewife in Omaha is at her Sunday church service."

"I really don't understand that a.n.a.logy, or where Omaha is."

"We're settled here, we know what's going to happen, give or take. No surprises, our lives are adventures compared to the people back home who took the desk job and family prize package, but we have routines too. We go to work, hit the beach and the bars, we get laid, we sleep, and then we go back to work again." Bruce shrugged. "We just happen to be doing it in a luscious paradise."

Harrison gave his friend a slow smile as the words sank into his consciousness. "f.u.c.k me. I guess you're right as usual, you weird little hippy."

"I take that as a compliment."

"I never really like to think of myself as routine, but you're absolutely right. I suppose I can't really blame them." He rubbed a tired hand over his face and leaned back in his comfortable office chair. "It still doesn't change the fact that I need a solution to my little problem, and I need it quickly. I need someone to be brave."

"You need to find that tenth," said Bruce, tipping his beer towards Harrison.

"Yes," agreed Harrison. "The tenth woman, the one who will step away from the crowd, who won't just go along with a thing because it's what everybody's doing, even if that thing is..." He trailed off as an epiphany hit him and cleared his mind completely of anything else.

Bruce tilted his head curiously. "What is it?"

"Someone who will do something that everyone else isn't doing," repeated Harrison. "Of course, why didn't I think of it before? It's her."

"Who?"

"Clarice," he said, getting up from his desk. He felt a sudden surge of energy that came with problem solving, like a high he couldn't get enough of. "The one who will step away from the crowd."

"Who's Clarice?"