"Martini, please." Taking a seat at the bar, I set down my black clutch, tucking a strand of my blonde hair behind my diamond-studded ear. The tiki bar by the pool of the resort I'm staying in was fairly empty when I got home from the meeting with the museum executives. When the male bartender leaves the drink before me, I set down the cash, immediately sipping. The headache I acquired on the flight over from Chicago is still with me, although it's pulsating throughout my entire body now. My ever-present phone begins to ring from my bag. I reluctantly reach inside and answer it. "Genevieve Harding." "Genevieve." I close my eyes at the sound of my boss's voice. Her low monotone is angry. "I know you're upset... He wouldn't budge. They don't want to restore it." "It's a century old! I don't understand why not!" "... I was able to schedule a lunch with him." I hear silence. "Really?" "Yes. He was- taken with me. He asked me to lunch," I mutter, rolling my eyes. The old man could barely keep his eyes off my cleavage enough to shake my hand but I know I can get him to budge. "Ah. Well- Okay. Try again tomorrow... We need this painting, Gen. I have every confidence in you." "I know... Thank you, Mrs. Monroe." "I'll call tomorrow. We're keeping you there until they say yes so try for tomorrow. The sooner you get it, the sooner you get home." "I understand," I murmur, nodding. The phone cuts off, indicating she's hung up. I grind my teeth together as I lay my cell onto the counter. Knowing her, she'd probably like me to screw him just to secure this painting. "Rough day?" I look to my side, surprised at the figure on the other side of the bar speaking to me. I stare at him for a moment- or a while. I honestly don't know. I lose my track of thought by his raw beauty. His dirty blonde hair is tousled and waved over his perfectly sculpted face. He's wearing a black dress shirt, no tie. I realize in a moment of embarrassment that I haven't answered him. "Uh, yeah. You could say that." He smiles, squinting slightly. Grabbing his scotch, I watch him stand and make his way over around the bar. I'm still holding my breath when he plants himself down next to me. His aftershave immediately intoxicates my senses. I notice now he's also in dress pants. "Do you mind if I move over here?" he asks, after I don't speak. "N-Not at all." God, this guy is affecting me. He looks oddly familiar for some reason... Looking around at the people of the bar awkwardly, I finally decide to introduce myself. "I'm Genevieve." He looks at me, nodding. "You have a beautiful name. It's what caught my attention when you spoke before." Blushing, I bite my lip. "Really?" He smiles slightly, displaying perfect teeth. Oh come on. "Yes." "And your name is?" I murmur quietly, turning to face him. "Tristan. Tristan Maddox." The name immediately registers. He must see my eyes widen because he looks down, smirking slightly. "You're engaged to Casey Mathews." I just saw him a week ago in a magazine. He lives in Chicago like me. He doesn't look too pleased when I say that. "No. Not anymore." I shut my mouth, pressing down on my lips awkwardly. "I'm sorry." "Don't be. It will be nice to be regarded as someone other than her man for the moment." I immediately feel like crap. I open my mouth to apologize but he beats me to it. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that to come out as rude as it did." Shaking my head, I raise my martini to my lips. "So, Genevieve, tell me- do you live here?" "No, no... I live in Chicago." His brows rise. "Wow, like me... Small world." "Yeah, I'm only here until I secure a painting for the museum." "That's what you do?" "Yes, well, I used to restore paintings. I was promoted three months ago." "You must be good then. I've never met someone who does that... Do you enjoy it?" "Yeah, I love it." I smile, biting my lip. Man, this guy is seriously stunning. I'm pinching myself right now. "Uh, and what brings you to Thailand, Tristan?" "... It's my birthday." "Today?" "Yes." I turn towards him on my stool, grinning. "Well, happy birthday." "Thank you." "So, vacation time? You're with family? Friends?" He leans back, rubbing his hands on his thighs. "Uh, no actually. I mean, yes, I am on a vacation- you could say but no one's with me." "That doesn't sound very fun." He smiles, humming in agreement. "Yeah, it's not... But hey, spur of the moment vacations are usually either a hit or miss. I don't regret it." "No?" "Nope. No regrets ever." "Ah, you're one of those aren't you?" He grins. "One of what?" "Eternal optimist." He laughs, shaking his head. "Now, I wouldn't go that far... I like to see the good in things." "It's a good quality." I smile, crossing my legs. His gaze averts to the bare skin, trailing down to my stiletto's. Against my will, I redden, embarrassed I'm so pleased that he finds me attractive. I watch him drink silently, gazing through the bar towards the dark ocean. The moon is high in the sky. "Okay, well- you know, I'm here and you're here... And it's your birthday. Why don't I take you out somewhere?" I blurt out without thinking. I resist showing my sudden urge to panic, unsure as to what came over me. Oh wait, it's his crystal clear blue eyes. I know now... They're screwing up my train of thought. He nods immediately, taken aback. "Okay." "Okay?" He grins. "Sure." ... I hand him a stick kabob, packed with charred chicken and peppers, turning with him away from the small shack, swarmed with customers. The cold beer is turning my hand to ice. With my stiletto's and clutch tucked under my arm, we walk past the tables toward the sand.