by Cathryn Cade
And Daniel didn’t strike her as the sort to appreciate such a haole display of modesty.
She took another hasty drink as she remembered her dream, the way he’d stood in the canoe, so proud and commanding in his brief, colorful robe and headdress. Even here, he sort of stalked, as if he was ready to explode into action. Like a royal guardsman, she thought fancifully. On alert in case a rival island tribe attacked during this time of celebration.
He stopped by a group of other men, and she turned her gaze away with an effort, joining in the conversation at the table.
The sun went down in a wash of lavender and pink, and slowly stars twinkled on in the sky. Someone walked around and lit the tiki torches, their bright flames flickering against the backdrop of pewter sea and glossy shrubs. Japanese lanterns blossomed into light along the edge of the lanai, like graceful pastel pods.
“Come on, Claire, we’ll teach you to hula,” offered Zoe.
Claire laughed but allowed herself to be led to the cleared area, where she kicked off her sandals and stood next to Melia, listening as she and David’s cousins explained how to move her hips. Someone turned up the music that had been playing quietly in the background.
“Just move your feet and hips,” Melia counseled over the Hawaiian melody. “You can learn the hands later.”
“Much later,” Claire retorted, trying to follow the graceful step and sway. But soon she was dancing back and forth with them. It was fun, although she felt like a little girl attempting to keep up in ballet class. Turned out she wasn’t built for that. This, she liked. Of course, the mai tais helped.
“Now the hands,” said Zoe. For a teenager, she was a good instructor. She moved with such grace, Claire felt as if she were trying to imitate a sapling swaying in the breeze, but she gave it her best shot.
She heard clapping and was surprised to look out at the tables and realize the lesson had an audience. She made a face but continued to move. She had always loved to dance, and this was as sensual as any moves to pop or country she’d ever done. Her skirt swished around her upper thighs, the grass soft under her bare feet.
The warm caress of the humid air, the scent of flowers and burning torches, the other women shimmying gracefully, the soft music flowing around her wove a tropical spell. When she noticed Daniel watching from the shadows, she stumbled but somehow managed to get her feet moving again in the now-familiar pattern. Her body seemed to know just how to move even more sensually, her hips taking on a life of their own. This was a dance of enticement, of seduction, she realized, using her hands to beckon gracefully. And she would use it, and any other weapon at her disposal, on the large, dark man watching her with such intensity.
David appeared by his brother’s side. He said something in Daniel’s ear, and then, to Claire’s delight and consternation, both men slid into the dance. They faced the women, provided a counterpoint as they danced back and forth before them, moving with powerful grace.
David moved close to Melia, and the two of them danced, facing each other. They looked so happy Claire felt a bittersweet twinge of envy.
Claire’s gaze locked with Daniel’s. He sidestepped in front of her, moving in slow grace. She could feel the heat radiating from his body. She wanted desperately to move against him, wished they were on a shadowed dance floor somewhere, where she could twine herself around him like a vine and close her eyes.
They gazed at each other as they danced, and for a breathless moment, Claire thought he would reach for her. Then his jaw clenched, and he looked away, over her shoulder.
“Hey, play a fast one,” he called to someone.
The music paused, and then someone yipped, and drums began to pound again, the ukulele following along in a fast, rollicking tune.
Claire tossed her head, pasting a smile on her face as she sauntered over to the side to watch. Melia joined her, flushed and laughing. “Too much for this haole girl.”
Zoe continued to dance. Turning to face the two men, she planted her hands on her hips, and then let out a yip and began to move her hips in an impossibly fast rhythm, her skirt flying. Melia and Claire applauded as she shimmied and twirled.
David stepped back to slide an arm about Melia and watch. Daniel, however, swooped in and lifted his slender cousin high up on his shoulder. She flung up her arm just as he did, and they posed triumphantly to loud applause from their audience.
Oh, man, Daniel Ho’omalu was not only drop-dead sexy, he could be funny and endearing too. Claire pressed one hand to her chest, rubbing over the odd little ache there.
As he set his cousin carefully down, Zoe kissed his cheek and then hurried back to her friends. Claire looked up at Daniel. He gazed back at her, his eyes hooded. He looked as if he was about to say something. She waited breathlessly.
“Claire? Are you ready to go back to the hotel?”
Claire turned, ready to snap at Bella for interrupting. But with one look at her friend’s haunted gaze, Claire set her own concerns aside.
“I’m ready.” She hugged Melia and David, said good-bye to Daniel, who nodded silently, hands in his pockets.
“Zane’s giving us a ride,” Bella said as they walked back across the lawn.
The ride down the mountainside and into town was quiet. The streets were still busy as they neared the waterfront, tourists strolling the lamp-lighted waterfront and thronging the lanais in front of the open bars. Zane dropped them at the hotel with a quiet good-bye, and Claire followed her friends into the big hotel.
In their suite, Grace gave them both a hug and said good night. She looked exhausted.
Claire followed Bella into their room, and sat on the edge of the bed, waiting quietly. Bella sat across from her, digging her toes into the carpet, her hands locked in her lap. She took a long, sobbing breath.
“Daro Kai…is my father.”
“I thought maybe he was,” Claire admitted. “You look like him.”
Bella sniffled loudly. “Yeah, kind of a shock, huh?”
Claire moved over to put an arm around her friend. Bella leaned against her, her head drooping to Claire’s shoulder. “Did you just learn all this tonight?” Claire asked.
Bella nodded. “Tina mentioned his name and that he’d be at the wedding, and Mom knew she had to tell me now, instead of waiting until she spoke with him first.”
Claire thought back to the awkward meeting at supper. “Now you’re related to the Ho’omalus. How weird is that?”
“Really weird. Except that they do have a really big family, with lots of relatives.” They were both quiet for a moment. “Thanks. You’re my true-blue friend.”
Bella hugged Claire, who returned it with an extra squeeze. “Anything for you, Bells. Hey, does Melia know about this?”
Bella shook her head. “David knows. Daro felt he had to tell Homu and Tina. David said he’d tell Melia if I wanted him to, but I told him to wait. She’ll be mad that I didn’t tell her right away, but I don’t want her to worry about anything except her wedding.”
“She’ll be mad for about five minutes,” Claire agreed. “And then it will be all about you. ’Cause that’s how Melia is.”
Bella laughed shakily. “I know.”
She rose and began to undress. Claire did the same, and in a short time, they were lying in their beds, the distant surf the only sound. So much had happened. The day was a blur of images, conversations, music and laughter, punctuated by tears. So much emotion, and it had to be multiplied tenfold for Bella. Claire tried to imagine how she’d feel if she’d grown up without her quiet, rock-steady father, and couldn’t.
Bella seemed to be done talking. Claire closed her eyes, and immediately, Daniel Ho’omalu’s bearded, tattooed face filled her mind’s eye, his ebony gaze boring into hers.
She turned onto her stomach, burying her face in the cool pillow to stifle her groan of sheer frustration. He was the sexiest man she’d ever met, and the most maddening. His fertility dance was so darn hot—made her want to volunteer to have his ba
by. And she had no intention of getting pregnant for years. That would be yet another way she could end up trapped in Astoria, working at a dead-end job to buy diapers and formula. Nope, she was careful—she was on the pill, and any guy who wanted her better have condoms too.
All in all, she should just stay far away from Daniel. He was a Ho’omalu, and if Melia’s current pregnancy was anything to judge by, they were a fertile family.
But in her mind’s eye, he moved before her again, every movement rife with raw, virile power. Clutching the pillow, she squeezed her thighs together.
Darn, darn, darn. Her common sense said no, but she really didn’t want to listen.
Chapter Seven
Friday, June 14th
Melia was the most beautiful bride ever. And sure, loyalty played into that, but still…it was true.
As the sound of ukulele and guitar filled the quiet evening air, Melia paced toward the seaside bower in her deceptively simple gown of ivory silk, her hair caught up in a loose roll held with pearls, a trailing bouquet of ivory orchid, plumeria and greenery in her hands.
Her face glowed with happiness. And David, bless his big heart, had the same look of incandescent joy. He was every inch the Hawaiian bridegroom in his ivory silk shirt and slacks. He wore a plumeria lei, as did his groomsmen.
On David’s other side, Daniel stood, stoic and half-tamed in his silk shorts and ivory shirt with yellow hibiscus blossoms and soft green leaves. He looked good, but she preferred him in the leaf loincloth and crown from her dream. She wasn’t blind.
Zane grinned from behind him. The pastor, a stout Hawaiian man with a sweet smile and a lei over his simple tropical shirt and slacks, stood under an arch trailing with vines and flowers.
Claire and Bella had drawn straws to see who stood next to Melia and held the ring, since neither one of them was maid of honor or any of that nonsense. Claire was fiercely glad she’d received the long straw, because this way she’d been the one to walk up the aisle with her hand tucked into the crook of the best man’s huge arm. Her hand still tingled from the feel of Daniel’s hot, smooth skin, the bulge of muscle underneath.
It had taken all her self-control not to stroke her fingertips down his knotted forearm, slip her hand into his and twine her fingers through his. She wanted to walk beside him the way lovers did, hands linked when they couldn’t be in each other’s arms. And more than that, she wanted to do the other things lovers did. Oh, yeah, the big guy was going down.
She and Bella were looking good in their snug, yellow cocktail dresses, flowers in their upswept hair and diamonds glittering at their throats and ears. The pendants were a bridesmaid gift from Melia, the earrings from David. Bella was smiling mistily, the same look Claire knew was on her own face.
Melia’s father handed her over to David, who turned to face her before the pastor and the audience as the sun sank toward the sea in the west. The soft light gilded them all in a haze of coral.
Jason Mamaloa sang a haunting melody in Hawaiian. Though she couldn’t understand a word, Claire felt the emotion clear to her bones.
The seaside grotto was amazingly private, considering how close they were to the huge hotel and grounds. The swish of waves on the rocks and the music muffled any other sounds.
A tiny breeze ruffled Melia’s dress and teased a trailing lock of Claire’s hair, tickling her neck.
“Let us pray.” The pastor bowed his head, his stole of leaves ruffling in the soft breeze. “Dear Heavenly Father, we are gathered here together to join this man and woman in holy matrimony…”
Claire felt the power of the simple, beautiful words wrap warmly about her heart. Her family weren’t regular churchgoers, but growing up she’d gone to Sunday school, and she certainly believed in God. How could anyone not acknowledge that a divine hand had created the beauty and power of the oceans and mountains that formed her home and these tropical islands?
The pastor led David and Melia in their vows, the simple words spoken by so many and yet new for these two in this moment.
David took the ring from Daniel and slid it onto Melia’s finger, a wide band of gold to join her flashing ruby. Then it was time for Claire to hand David’s big golden band to Melia. The look in his eyes when it slid home was something Claire knew she’d carry with her for a long time to come.
David pulled Melia into his arms and bent to kiss her. The crowd let out a roar of approval, clapping loudly.
The beaming couple sauntered down the aisle arm in arm, and Claire stepped forward to take Daniel’s arm. She gave it an impulsive squeeze, pressing her breast against his biceps. “We did it.” She smiled glowingly at him.
To her delight, he smiled back at her, his eyes crinkling, teeth flashing white in his short black beard.
At the end of the promenade, she held on to his arm for a moment. “Save me a dance, okay?”
Just like that, his gaze shuttered, dark lashes veiling those eyes. “Oh, I imagine you’ll be pretty busy.”
And then he walked away, leaving Claire staring after him.
Daniel groaned, a low rumble of irritation in his chest as Claire cut through the crowd in the big open-air pavilion set up for the reception, ignoring the other men smiling at her, only to stop before his chair. Well, he sure as hell wasn’t going to encourage her. Kahni was here somewhere, and if he danced at all, it would be with her.
Thank God David and Melia had only done one dance together before inviting everyone to join them on the floor and had not forced their wedding party to do another. Dancing was orchestrated foreplay.
He wanted her too damn much; that was the problem. Safer to be with a wahine who didn’t make him shake with the need to back her up against the nearest surface and fuck her so long and hard she screamed.
The simple yet profound words of the wedding ceremony had left him full of such powerful tension, he was afraid he might snap. Anger and something that felt uncomfortably like longing roiled inside him.
Ah, the way David and Melia had looked at each other when they said those final “I do’s”, like two halves of a whole that nothing and no one could ever break apart. He’d never have that, never trust himself to make that kind of promise to a wahine—to have and to hold until death, to remain inside the shell of a “civilized man” and not bust out, show her the rampaging savage he really was.
“So, do you not dance or what?” Claire asked him now, half-smiling, half-challenging.
He looked at her from under his heavy brows, not bothering to rise. “Or what. You betta run along, keiki. Go find one of the other boys to play with.”
Her tanned cheeks flooded with pink, and a line appeared between her brows, but she looked him in the eye, her hands planted on her flaring hips.
That dress should be illegal. The shimmery yellow garment on her friend Bella was merely pretty and sexy. On this wahine…whoa. The fabric stretched taut in tiny pleats from a point somewhere under her left arm, then wrapped into a strap across her other shoulder, cradling her heavy breasts like melons. If a man managed to look beyond them, it nipped in at her waist and flared out over her pear-shaped ass and the slight curve of her belly, ending midway down her thighs.
Some might call her hips big, but to him they called a siren song to test their resiliency with his hands. And her long, strong legs—those he wanted wrapped around his waist, and then later, his neck.
But it was a chance he couldn’t afford to take. He wouldn’t drag his or his family’s reputation through the muck again.
“I’m not a keiki,” she said, her pretty mouth set in a mulish pout. “I’m well over twenty-one. Old enough to know what I want.”
He forced himself to take another drink and swallow. “Well, keep on offering, and I’m sure you’ll find a taker,” he drawled. “It just won’t be me.”
She flinched as if he’d slapped her. Her cheeks got even redder, and her hands clenched into fists. For a moment, he thought he was going to get his drink in his face. But she drew herself up like an
angry young queen. If sea-blue eyes could have spit fire, he’d be a big grease spot. That was better than the hurt he’d glimpsed—he was ashamed of himself for causing it, even if it was necessary.
Then, with greater daring than he’d have believed, she leaned over his chair, planting her hands by his elbows, as if sharing a sweet secret. Her scent wrapped around him, heated woman and the scent of the flowers in her lei as it swung forward, nearly grazing his shoulder. Her splendid cleavage was just at his eye level.
“I’ll do that,” she murmured in a husky, seductive voice. “While you drink yourself into a stupor. Just remember, you’ll wake up with a hangover, and one of these other guys will have the best damn memories of his life—asshole.”
She straightened so fast her lei slapped him on the chin, turned on one heel and stalked away, that fabulous ass twitching with rage. He laughed to himself, but it sounded fake, even to him. He wanted to storm after her and throw her over his shoulder. Had she just called him an ‘ōkole?
As he watched, bemused, itchy and royally pissed off, she grabbed David’s ex-football-player friend Jack, whom Daniel had liked up until this moment, and towed him out onto the dance floor, hardly breaking her stride. The big blond man looked surprised and then damn pleased. He pulled her into his arms, one hand in the small of her back as the band launched into a Keali’i Reichel number.
Daniel hoped Jack knew how lucky he was. He hoped the dude couldn’t get it up. He hoped Jack strangled on his next drink and she was left explaining the body.
He surged out of his chair and stalked out onto the lawn to where his father and some of the uncles were gathered. On the way, he passed Kahni, talking and laughing with some of the local women. Their eyes met, and she cocked her head at him, a little smile playing about her full mouth.
He nodded. Message received, and understood.
The group of men around Homu and Hilo were unexpectedly somber. Daniel nodded at a local judge and the police captain of the western district of the island.
