by Cathryn Cade
Now he had to live with the knowledge that his size and strength, and his sexual tastes, were too much for most wahines. Yeah, Claire Hunter might want him, but he couldn’t trust that she knew what she was getting into. Like his beloved sea, she thought he’d be all sunlight and calm. But he was the stormy waves, pounding away at a hole in the rock until the water broke through and the rock fell into the ocean, enveloped by the waves.
He couldn’t bear to see the sexy light in those blue eyes dim to fear. And she was Melia’s best friend besides. No way in hell was he going to try her on.
Kahni was busy tonight, but there’d be other nights.
He turned his cold beer bottle idly in his hands as she sauntered out from behind the bar to wipe down a table and pile the empties on her tray.
Behind him, a group of men, three Hawaiians and two haoles, were talking fishing. Daniel watched them in the mirror as they discussed the record marlin that had been taken just off the coast, the chances of a tropical storm to the south turning toward Hawaii, and the navy maneuvers that had prevented two of them from getting to their favorite fishing spot the week before. One of the Hawaiians, heavyset and muscular, watched Kahni walk by on her way back to the bar.
“Fuckin’ navy,” one of the others said without heat.
One of the haoles laughed, the rough sound of a habitual smoker. “Saw a couple of my old navy buddies last week. One of ’em told the damnedest story. They got all these newfangled electronics now. Even got cameras that can take pictures underwater—on some kine motion sensor. So, one of their young techs swears to his officer he sees a guy on this camera, swimming clear out, fathoms deep. With no scuba equipment.
“This officer says, ‘Damn college boys been smokin’ Kona Gold before they come on shift. I catch ’em at it, I’m gonna bust their asses back to ensign.’”
The other men laughed. Daniel sat rigid on his stool, only his thumbs moving as he rotated his bottle in the condensation puddled on the bar. Wasn’t hard to figure out who the camera had caught—him. Despite the warm air, a chill snaked down his spine. Kahni passed him, carrying drinks to a young couple sitting outside at one of the small plastic tables. He scarcely noticed her.
“They see da picture?” asked another, right on cue.
“Nah, just a shadow. Prob’ly just da nai’a.”
Daniel blew out a gusty breath and took another swig of beer. He’d have to be more careful on his undersea swims in the future. A lot more careful.
“Tommy here seen a mermaid once, when he was smokin’,” said a stocky Hawaiian with earrings and bushy sun-bleached hair.
“Hey, Kimo, she ka nani,” his smaller friend shot back in a hoarse voice. “I asked her to come wit me, but she say, ‘Just gimme your fish, kanaka.’ I say, ‘You don’t wanna hana ai, go find your own fish.’”
The men all laughed uproariously.
Daniel turned on his barstool, chuckling at the story, and one of the fishermen caught his eye and nodded. Daniel nodded back. Kimo turned and scooted his chair back, eyeing Daniel with dawning recognition.
“Hey, man, you da one who was wit Apana when he died, yeah?” he asked.
Daniel nodded somberly. The man shook his head. “Bad luck Apana had.”
Tommy snorted in disgust. “Bad luck, hell. Dat buggah never took care his boat. Surprised he ain’t come dead sooner.” He pointed the neck of his beer bottle at Daniel. “You one lucky kanaka.”
Daniel jerked his chin in acknowledgment. “Good to be alive.” He looked at the array of empty bottles on their table. “Buy you another round?”
The group shifted in their chairs. Kimo and Tommy grinned. “Oh, hell yeah, bruddah.”
Daniel slipped Kahni another larger bill and took a pull on his beer as one of the men rose to accept freshly opened bottles from Kahni and distribute them at the table.
One of the Hawaiians, heavyset with traditional tattoos down one side of his torso and leg, his hair shaved close to his skull as if he’d watched one too many videos with The Rock, eyed Daniel from under his brows. “Heard Apana was into some cash lately,” he said to no one in particular.
The two other Hawaiians looked at Daniel and then away. Kimo scratched his head; Tommy jigged his leg nervously. “Hey, Wayne, go easy,” he mumbled.
“I heard that,” Daniel said. “I dunno. Maybe some local-grown stuff, yeah?”
Wayne shook his bald head. “Nah. No locals trust Apana to keep his mouth shut.” He looked Daniel over. “Whatchu doin’ hangin’ wit him? You a Ho’omalu, yeah?”
As the other men’s gazes sharpened, Daniel shrugged again. So much for blending in—this island wasn’t that big. “Our mothers went to school together. My ma says to me, ‘You look after Nellie’s boy.’ So I check on him once in a while, help him work on his boat. But you can’t keep a kanaka outta trouble if he’s lookin’ for it, yeah? I ain’t no fuckin’ nanny.”
The other men eyed him, and Kimo laughed. “Chee, whassup wit dat? Bet all dem haoles would hire you to watch dere keikis, you so sweet lookin’.”
Daniel bared his teeth obligingly.
“How ’bout me?” Tommy demanded. “I’m sweet as a pineapple.”
Wayne ignored him, staring broodingly into his beer.
Daniel exchanged a few more pleasantries and then slid from his barstool. “Night, fellas. See you around.”
He sauntered out into the warm dusk and around the back of his truck, taking his time. He didn’t have long to wait. Wayne strode out of the bar and looked around, his head swiveling on his thick neck until he saw Daniel standing by his truck. He walked over, his footsteps crunching on the lava rubble of the parking lot. He was puffing himself up, trying to look badass.
“Dat Apana, he wasn’t so tough,” he said. “I am.”
Daniel regarded him. The palm fronds overhead swayed in the night breeze, flicking shadows over Wayne’s glistening face. Hostility poured off the other man in waves, from his bull-like stance to the way he flexed his big hands into fists. He looked like he worked with those hands and spent time pumping iron too, but Daniel knew he could take the moke. He was bigger, more powerful, and had his ho’omalu power as well. But he wasn’t fighting for no reason.
“You a friend of Apana’s?” he asked.
“Maybe I just don’t want you coming round here.”
Daniel eyed him across his truck bed. “That’d be your problem. I don’t wanna beef, but I go where I want.”
Wayne glared at him. “Well, you stay away from Kahni, or you get a beef, wit me.” Then he turned and swaggered into the bar.
Daniel swung into his truck and started the engine. He shook his head. So that was it—Wayne was after Kahni, probably her date tonight. Well, he and Kahni had never been exclusive. And Daniel was both relieved and pissed off. He wouldn’t have minded pounding Wayne into the gravel, blowing off some of his tension. On the other hand, he was glad to know the guy wasn’t involved in Apana’s mess.
But he still didn’t know if any more locals were involved with the people who’d hired Apana. Kimo and Tommy had acted nervous when Wayne mentioned Apana. Was it because they knew what Apana had been up to or because they were also involved?
That night, as Claire got ready for bed in the hotel room, she thought of all the things she’d learned about the Ho’omalus. They were true natives, steeped in the tradition of this beautiful place.
And tomorrow night, she’d watch Daniel Ho’omalu dance. Wow.
Perhaps it was no surprise that she dreamt of him. But the dream itself was like an island fantasy.
She stood on the beach, lit only by the moonlight and the tiki torches flickering in their stands. Daniel Ho’omalu stood in a huge war canoe, floating just offshore, clad in a fancy feather cape and headdress and a breechclout. The dress of a war chief—she’d seen them in the beautiful paintings in the hotel lobby.
He looked her over, his jet eyes insolent. In the manner of dreams, she suddenly realized she was nearly nude, clad only in a brief sarong of
some soft cloth. Her breasts, shoulders and belly were bared to his gaze. She could feel his gaze as if he touched her with his big, hard hands.
He lifted one hand and beckoned her imperiously. Equal parts anger and arousal warred inside her. Her breasts tightened, her nipples hardening to tight peaks, and heat twined low in her belly.
Against her will, she found herself walking down the beach to him, water lapping around her ankles. He gestured again, a flick of his hand toward her sarong. It was clear he meant her to take it off for him.
That was too much. She shook her head angrily. He merely smiled, a knowing quirk of his wide, sensual mouth, and Claire found her hands moving to unfasten the sarong, so aroused and so angry she felt as if she might burst into flames.
Her own cry woke her. She opened her eyes with a gasp and found that she was twisted in the sheets and her thin tank top, perspiring. And turned on.
Bella stirred in the other bed and then subsided with a sigh, her breathing once again even and shallow.
Claire rolled onto her back, moving sinuously. She bit back a groan of frustration. Damn him—she ached with arousal, her pussy swollen and needy. Squeezing her thighs together, she slipped her fingers into her bikini panties, touching her wetness. Stroking her arousal up over her clitoris, she circled it delicately. As exquisite pleasure bloomed, she saw Daniel Ho’omalu as he’d been in her dream, watching her touch herself. She came hard and fast, shuddering silently.
She flopped back onto her pillow, her body relaxed but her mind full of turmoil. What was happening to her?
She’d been attracted to other guys, but never like this, and she’d certainly never dreamed about them, especially clothed in such barbaric splendor. He’d looked so…right.
And she wanted him more than ever.
Chapter Five
Thursday, June 13th
After their dress fittings the next morning, Grace took Claire and Bella shopping. Claire demurred, but Grace gave her a chiding look. “Honey, you know I can afford it. I want to do something nice for my girls.”
Giving in with a smile, Claire hugged her. As they set off in the soft morning, she was charmed by the little open-air shops along the Kona Town walking mall, their wares hanging in both doors and windows. The tile walkways were uneven, sloping to storm drains set every few feet. Claire nearly tripped more than once as she gawked at sundresses, bikinis and jewelry.
At the first shop, she looked at a one-piece swimsuit. Grace, her reddish brows drawing together in displeasure, reached over and pulled a bikini off the rack beside her.
“This is what the girls wear on the beach here.”
Although she was taken aback by the briefness of the triangles of blue-and-green batik, Claire took the hanger. When she stepped out of the minute changing room a few moments later, her face and chest were hot with embarrassment. The tiny suit did little more than showcase her full breasts and hips, although it made her legs look even longer.
To her shock, Grace nodded. “Now that’s more like it.”
“I can’t wear this in public!” Claire protested.
“Why not?” The slender Asian clerk joined Grace, her head tilted to one side. She was beaming too.
“It—it shows everything,” Claire sputtered. “I’m too big to wear a bikini. I only put it on to make a point—”
“Omigod,” Bella enthused, coming out of her own dressing room in a brief red bikini that highlighted her slender frame. “Claire, look at you.”
When Claire turned a fulminating look on her, Bella widened her eyes innocently. “What? So it’s sexy. This is Hawaii, honey, and you’re single. Go for it.”
“What are you two doing, trying to marry me off like Melia?” Claire tugged at the tiny bottom, which barely covered half her ass. She wasn’t exactly fat, but she wasn’t a little slip of a thing like Bella, either. She had curves, most of which were hanging out right now.
“You look lovely,” Grace repeated. “And you can wear the sarong when you’re out of the water.”
Claire accepted the length of fabric, tied it over her hips and looked in the mirror again. That was less blush-worthy.
“And Daniel will love it,” Bella murmured over her shoulder.
Claire made a face at her, but, she accepted the suit and a bright coral tankini with coordinating hip-hugging swim-shorts.
That seemed enough to her, but at the next shop, Grace held up a white crocheted bikini. She thrust it into Claire’s arms along with a flowered sarong and shooed her into the dressing room.
Trying the suit on, Claire stared at herself in the mirror. She grinned guiltily at her reflection. The crochet had flesh-toned backing, cradling her breasts and derriere while showing hints of skin. The effect was pretty, frivolous and incredibly sexy. She wanted it—desperately. She wanted to see a pair of grim, onyx eyes light up with hopeless lust at the sight of her wearing it.
Then she’d decide whether to let him have her.
After changing back into her street clothes, she handed the suit to the clerk. “I’ll take it.”
Then it was on to Honolua Surf for souvenir sweatshirts, Crazy Shirts for T-shirts and shorts, and a nearby boutique for sundresses and straw hats.
“Okay, that’s enough,” Claire protested laughingly. “I’m not going to be here long enough to wear all this.”
She thanked Grace again with another hug, which Grace returned.
“All right,” Grace said briskly as she put her wallet away. “We’ve just time to get a manicure and pedicure before we meet Melia for lunch.”
Claire followed her and Bella along the cobbled walkway, arms laden with shopping bags. She felt as if she’d been dropped into a strange but pleasant dream. She didn’t do all these girly things, shopping and having her nails done.
Even though she lived in a suburb of Portland, a shopping mecca, she spent nearly every penny on food, rent and tuition. It didn’t bother her. Someday, when she was established in her profession, she’d have extra money for luxuries.
She might never have enough to shop the way Grace did, just handing over her credit card without bothering about the price of things. But that was okay. Claire didn’t really crave expensive clothes and jewelry. Her tastes ran more to state-of-the-art computer equipment and rent money on a house near the beach somewhere. Hawaii would be heaven, but everyone knew it cost a small fortune to live here. She was willing to settle for a mainland beach.
After their hands and feet had been buffed, nails trimmed and polished, the three of them lugged their shopping bags up to their rooms. Claire changed into a pair of blue shorts, a stretchy white halter top and white leather flip-flops, all new. As she brushed her hair into a silky swathe of blonde and then plopped her new hat on her head, Claire grinned at her reflection. Now she looked like a tourist.
Bella did too, in a yellow tank and shorts, her hair in braids under her hat. Big silver earrings dangled nearly to her shoulders.
Melia was waiting in the lobby, lovely and tropical in a red dress and matching sandals. They exchanged hugs.
“Love your outfit, Mel,” Bella approved.
Melia blushed. “David picked it out for me.”
Claire blinked. Wow—the idea of a guy shopping for her, choosing a sexy dress and shoes, boggled her mind. Unbidden, she pictured Daniel Ho’omalu’s glowering face and snorted with laughter.
“What?” Bella and Melia demanded.
“Just trying to picture David’s big brother shopping for a woman,” she said. There was an instant of silence, and then the three of them whooped.
Grace chuckled too. “David does manifest certain social graces that Daniel, er, chooses not to,” she said dryly.
“Well said, Madame Author.” Claire snickered.
They had sandwiches at one of the waterfront cafes on the esplanade. Claire whipped her phone out of her bag and had the waiter take their picture. They smiled politely for the first, and then the three girls mugged for a second photo for Grace, striking dramatic
poses with their hats.
“Oh, I’ve missed you two.” Melia hugged first Bella and then Claire. “Friends forever, right?” she asked, grasping both of their hands in hers. “No matter what, no matter where.”
“You’d better believe it.” Claire squeezed her friend’s hand. Emotion swelled in her breast, and she had to hold on to her smile. Because really, their friendship would never be the same now that Melia was getting married. David would always come first. That was the way it should be, but it still hurt a little.
“Always.” Bella reached for Claire’s hand as well. Grace snapped another photo.
Melia let out a funny little sob and held tighter to their hands. “Um—I have something else to tell you,” she said, her green eyes once again brimming with tears.
“What?” Bella looked worried. Claire stared at her friend, mystified. Was it something horrible?
“David and I—we’re going to have a baby. I’m pregnant.”
The two of them gaped at her. Grace slowly lowered the camera. “Oh, my.”
Melia looked from Bella to Claire. Her mouth quivered up into a lopsided grin. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”
“Um…wow.” Claire struggled to wrap her mind around this new concept. Melia, a mother?
“I guess…I’m just so shocked.” Bella brushed back a strand of shiny hair from her face, her eyes round.
Claire nodded. “Are you okay? I mean, this must have been one heck of a surprise to you too, huh?”
“Oh, yeah,” Melia said in heartfelt tones. “I cried for hours. And I was so mad, I punched David.”
“Is he okay with it?”
Melia rolled her eyes. “He’s over the moon. The Ho’omalus love keikis. He can’t wait to be a daddy.”
“And you aren’t getting married just because of the baby,” Bella said. “I mean, you’re obviously in love, both of you. We could see that when he came back with you last month.”
Melia blushed. “No, it’s not because of the baby. We would have waited a few more months to be married, but he’s the one for me—the only one.”
