Last Night

by Meryl Sawyer

  "Face forward," he said, his voice low.

  The air stalled in her lungs. For some reason she did as she was told. With his thumbs he traced a feather-light path across the base of her neck. Oh, Lord, what was he doing? Why couldn't she breathe?

  Her hair hung halfway down her neck. He parted it with his thumbs. "When you bend over," he said, stroking her neck, exerting a gentle yet extremely sensual pressure, "your hair falls forward and anyone can see the short wisps along the back of your neck. They're a natural blonde."

  Stunned that he'd discovered her secret, she let her chin drop to her chest, but then a surge of anger came to her rescue. Why was she allowing him to touch her in a way that felt more like a caress? She jerked her head away from his talented hands and spun around to face him.

  "All right. I confess. I dye my hair. So what? I look more professional with darker hair."

  He chuckled and muttered, "My, such a temper." He sat on the kitchen table, one leg hitched up on the edge, grinning. "How do you explain the sexy underwear?"

  This time she didn't gasp, but she must have looked shocked because Rob hooted and slapped his knee. "You know, anyone can see those lacy bras when you bend forward."

  "Only if you're looking down the front of my blouse."

  Rob didn't bother to deny it; he just smirked. "You wear the sheerest nylons possible"—his eyes took a leisurely tour of her body, making her even more aware of the provocative dress she should have returned—"and sexy garter belts."

  She banked a groan, unable to believe he'd detected the sexy lingerie she loved to wear. It made her feel feminine even though she was wearing a power suit under her judge's robe. "So what?"

  His finger roamed up the rise of her cheek. "You don't want people to know what you're really like, do you?"

  "I'm just trying to make it in a man's world," she insisted, reluctant to admit he was right. She was a very private person. The only one who really knew her was Vanessa, and over the last few years they had grown apart.

  "Uh-huh," he replied, his voice leaving no doubt he didn't really believe her. "Noticing your hair proves my point. I'm good at what I do. I'm coming with you to the Coltranes."

  She wanted to argue with him, but she stopped herself. Too much was at stake. Rob was uniquely observant, and he had resources she didn't have. As much as she wanted to distance herself from him, she believed he had a talent for investigating.

  Rob stood and placed the knife and note in a paper bag. "Don't tell anyone, even your sister, that we aren't lovers—"

  "Lovers?" She jumped to her feet. "Now just a minute! I agree that you should come with me to check out the Coltranes, but why can't I say you're my friend?"

  "Okay, whatever. Use the word friend if you like, but the impression they should get is that we're lovers."

  "Why on earth would I want to do that?"

  He rolled his shoulders back as if stretching a tight muscle, pulling the snug-fitting T-shirt even tighter across the well-defined contours of his chest. "I'm not the type of man who's 'just friends' with a woman. No one's going to buy that. Might as well pretend we're lovers, then they won't be suspicious about why I'm really there. The last thing we want is for the Coltranes to think I'm investigating them." As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. No woman could be "just friends" with a man like Rob Tagett. And the last thing she needed was to make Big Daddy Coltrane suspicious.

  His slow grin told her he sensed victory and was savoring every second of it. "I'm coming to Maui because I'm hot for you, right?"

  It took her a few seconds to get the word out. "Right."

  Bag in hand, he moved toward the door, grinning at her response.

  "I have to tell Vanessa the truth. I never keep anything from her."

  Rob stopped just short of opening the back door; his eyes assessed her from head to toe. "Bullshit. You don't tell your sister everything. Convince her that you've flipped for me. Then she'll treat me like a potential brother-in-law. Otherwise she may blow my cover. We don't want that, do we?"

  "No," she conceded, irritated that Rob had a way of seeing through people, pinpointing weaknesses. She supposed she should be thankful. No doubt such a talent would be helpful with the case. But she wasn't happy; she was frustrated. Was she really so transparent?

  Rob dropped the paper bag with the evidence on the counter. The thud echoed through the tiny kitchen like a warning shot.

  What was he up to?

  Nothing, apparently. He was just standing so close that she had to battle the cowardly urge to back up. She didn't look into his eyes, not wanting to acknowledge the raw sensuality she knew would be there. As she stood waiting for him to speak, she was overwhelmed by his size. Until now she hadn't realized he was quite so tall—well over six feet—or that he was quite so powerfully built.

  The pulse in her throat jumped, alerting her. His hand slipped under her chin, cupping it and slowly forcing her to look directly into his eyes. She met the challenge with a clenched jaw.

  Close up his eyes were a marine blue shot with minute stitches of silver that danced like summer lightning. At a loss for words, furious with herself for noticing how attractive he was, she angrily pursed her lips, ready to do something infantile like kick him in the shins.

  She opened her mouth to tell him off, but before she could utter a sound he bent his head and angled his lips over hers. He slid his strong hand into the hair at the base of her neck, anchoring her in place while his other hand clutched the small of her back, bringing her flush against him.

  She braced herself to endure his kiss. Didn't all men think they were world-class lovers? Instead of boredom, an unanticipated surge of pleasure almost buckled her knees as her lips willingly parted and his tongue aggressively mated with hers. The heat of his body engulfed her, molding her smaller frame against his with shocking intimacy.

  For a moment she reveled in the unique sensations, allowing herself to respond even though she knew better. Suddenly the insistent bulge of his arousal chilled her like an arctic wind across Waikiki.

  She pulled back her head, her lips still inches from his. "You creep!"

  "Temper. Temper," he chided with an infuriatingly sensual grin that said he didn't take her one bit seriously. He kept his arms locked around her, pinning them together from chest to thigh. He bent forward as if to whisper something. His lips grazed her ear and she bit back a moan. Then he nipped gently at her earlobe and took its softness into his mouth.

  Suddenly her body felt heavy and weak, yet alive with sensations that she'd never felt before this moment. He moved away unexpectedly and she rocked back on her heels. His eyes were almost black now, the irises dilated. And there was no mistaking the jutting ridge in his jeans.

  "Let's get something straight." Oh, Lordy, why did she sound so breathless? "This is a professional relationship. Nothing more."

  He picked up the bag on the counter and said with a drawl that evoked the image of a hot cowboy on a Saturday night, "Coulda fooled me."

  5

  The jet swept low across Maui, tipping its silver wings and giving the tourists aboard a better view of the crystalline beaches. The incandescent blue of the sky echoed the deeper blue of the sea. Even at this distance the water was so clear that Dana could see the reefs, dark shadows against the ocean floor.

  She looked away from the dazzling white sand that was almost blinding in the morning sun, barely glancing at the rows of hotels nestled in groves of palms along the shore. She gazed inland at the green, rolling fields of sugar cane and pineapples that climbed up the hills to Maui's crowning glory, the dormant volcano Haleakala. As usual, the "house of the sun" was floating in a sea of its own, an ocean of clouds that nourished the rain forest along its slopes. It was early for the showers that came daily, but by afternoon the warm tropical rain would begin to fall in the hills.

  Below Haleakala was the lush "up-country" area of Maui, with its myriad waterfalls, enormous tree ferns, and stretches of grassy pastureland w
here herds of cattle grazed. The Coltrane ranch was located there in a picture-postcard setting.

  How would the Coltrane family take the news that Rob would be joining her for vacation? Dana wondered. He had decided to have Dana come alone while he ran tests on the knife and note. It was Dana's job to prepare Vanessa and the Coltranes for the arrival tomorrow of her "boyfriend."

  Dana knew it wouldn't be an imposition. Kau Ranch, the Coltrane family compound, was huge, with a large main house and several guest cottages. She'd never been the only guest.

  Big Daddy had always encouraged her to bring a friend. Last night she'd called to say someone would be with her. Big Daddy had taken the call and said he'd be delighted to have another guest. Not that he was imbued with typical Hawaiian hospitality. Dana had decided that he liked to have a court of people around him so he could play king.

  An unexpected guest wouldn't be a problem, but her choice of Rob as a boyfriend would surprise everyone, particularly Vanessa. She knew how upset Dana had been over the negative article. Not only had she told Vanessa she despised the man, but Rob was nothing like the men she usually dated.

  Convincing anyone she cared about Rob would require some top-notch acting, something she wasn't very good at. Too often her temper flared and she let her true feelings show. Could she pull it off?

  Yes, she assured herself, remembering all that was at stake. Her career. Vanessa and Jason's future.

  Dana stopped inside the terminal and looked around for Vanessa, but she wasn't there. Strange. Vanessa was rarely late. Even after Dana had claimed her bags Vanessa hadn't appeared. Dana was waiting in the long line for rental cars when Vanessa dashed up.

  "Sorry," Vanessa said, struggling to catch her breath. "I-I—"

  "It's okay. I just arrived." Dana hugged her sister and kissed her cheek.

  As usual, Vanessa was stylishly dressed, in a floral-print skirt and a blouse piped in a matching print. Her thick blonde hair brushed her shoulders, and she wore sunglasses that covered half her face.

  They walked outside into the moist tropical heat fanned by the ever-present breeze from the trade winds. At the curb was a Range Rover with the Kau Ranch sign painted on the door and the Coltrane logo, a black Angus cow wearing an orchid lei.

  Dana decided to immediately tell Vanessa about Rob. Waiting wouldn't make it any easier. "Vanessa"—she drew in a calming breath—"I've met someone."

  "Really?" To her surprise Vanessa sounded only mildly interested.

  "I hope you don't mind, but I've invited him to come here and spend my vacation with me." The words were coming out in a breathless rush now. "I've been seeing Rob Tagett."

  "Great," Vanessa replied as she tossed the suitcase she'd been carrying into the back seat and waited for Dana to put hers in.

  Great? Dana silently climbed into the passenger seat. Was that all she had to say about a man that Dana had once insisted she hated? Vanessa pulled away from the curb without asking a single question. Though relieved, Dana had mixed feelings. Didn't Vanessa care?

  Without making another comment Vanessa took the Haleakala highway toward Maui's up-country. Dana glanced at her, but Vanessa didn't look her way. If she didn't care about Dana's love life, didn't Vanessa at least wonder about the blackmailer? If the truth came out she might lose her son. Something had to be troubling Vanessa, distracting her. "Vanessa"—Dana put her hand on her sister's arm—"what's wrong?"

  Vanessa's lower lip quivered. "It's Jason."

  She realized Vanessa was crying, silent tears dripping from beneath her oversize sunglasses. The car veered toward the lane of oncoming traffic. "Pull over." Dana pointed to the parking lot of the Bad Dog Gym. Vanessa drove in and slammed on the breaks, bringing the Rover to a jarring halt. "What happened? Is Jason ill?"

  Vanessa whipped off her sunglasses. Beneath the sheen of tears, anger burned like a white-hot flame in her blue eyes. "Jason's fine. At least he was when he left with Big Daddy and the boys to go pig sticking."

  "No! Jason's barely five. He's much too young to go on a pig hunt."

  "Big Daddy doesn't think so."

  "What about Jason's father? Didn't Eric put his foot down?"

  "Are you kidding?" Vanessa's tears had stopped. She swiped at her wet cheeks with the back of her hand, where a doorknob-size diamond gleamed on her ring finger like a beacon. "Have you ever known Eric to cross his father?"

  So true. Dana shook her head. The Coltrane brothers might look like men—rough, macho men's men—but Vanessa's husband Eric and his brother, Travis, were dominated by Big Daddy.

  "Maybe they won't find the pig," Dana said.

  "They'll find him. They took Rambo and the other tracker dogs."

  Dana stared out the window at the clouds skirting Haleakala like billowing petticoats, reminding herself that wild pigs were a nuisance. Descended from the boars brought by settlers in the eighteenth century, the pigs had "gone wild." Even environmentalists agreed that they were a severe threat to Hawaii's fragile ecosystem. They devoured native plants that took generations to grow and they stripped the bark from trees, killing them.

  "I know the pigs are a problem," Dana said, "but I can't condone hunting them down on horseback with vicious tracker dogs like Rambo when they could use Havahart traps or stun guns."

  "Big Daddy will see that Jason is safe, but watching the pig sticking is bound to give him nightmares. I know. I went on a hunt once because Big Daddy insisted," Vanessa said, her voice full of bitterness. "The tracker dogs cornered the pig. Then grabber dogs nipped at the pig's hind legs to distract it, so it couldn't gore anyone with its tusks. While the dogs tormented the pig, the hunters stabbed it with long knives."

  "Only a mental case would drag a child to see something so bloody and inhumane," Dana said, disgusted.

  "Try telling that to Big Daddy. He claims pig sticking is like fox hunting."

  Dana hated both sports—if you could call them that. "Where's the sport in hunting an animal with a pack of dogs? I don't care if it's a fox or pig. They're totally outnumbered, the odds so against them that it sickens me to even think about it."

  "Me too." Vanessa's voice was barely above a whisper. "How will Jason react?"

  Dana didn't have an answer. Like most little boys, Jason was so inquisitive that he got himself into a lot of scrapes. Yet there was a sensitive side to him that reminded Dana of herself. He loved unusual animals like the geckos. The small lizards, a symbol of good luck in Hawaii, were everywhere on the ranch. Jason had made pets of several, giving them special names.

  "It's not going to get any better." Vanessa interrupted Dana's thoughts. "Big Daddy won't be happy until he molds Jason the way he did his boys. I can't allow that to happen."

  "You're right." During her visits to the ranch Dana had noticed that Big Daddy was almost as obsessed with Jason as Vanessa was.

  "Big Daddy has this unshakable image of the perfect Coltrane male, a Hawaiian cowboy, hard-riding, hard-drinking, hard-hearted. Just plain hard."

  Dana was tempted to remind Vanessa that she'd warned her about Eric's father. All anyone had to do was look at the way Big Daddy dominated his sons to realize that his grandson would be treated the same way. But Vanessa hadn't seen it, or hadn't wanted to.

  Vanessa started the car and pulled onto the highway. "I'm getting a divorce. I can't let them ruin Jason's life. I can't." Vanessa wearily lifted her shoulders. "It's hard to admit I made a mistake. You tried to tell me…"

  Dana told herself not to be angry, but on some level she was. How long had Vanessa been miserable? She'd told her sister everything about her own private life—what little there was to tell—and yet her sister hadn't confided in her.

  "Will you let us live with you until I can make other arrangements?"

  "Of course. Stay as long as you like." Inwardly Dana sighed, the uphill battle facing Vanessa starkly apparent to her. "What did Big Daddy say about the divorce?"

  It took a few seconds for Vanessa to admit, "I haven't told him. I haven
't even mentioned it to Eric. But this morning when they hauled Jason away I knew I had no choice. "

  "Big Daddy will fight, you know. He'll do anything to keep his only grandson. And the Coltranes will have the big five behind them. I don't have to tell you how much power the founding families still have."

  "You're right," Vanessa conceded. "It's going to be a battle royal to keep Jason. That's why I'm glad you're here. I need you."

  A tight band formed across Dana's chest as she recalled her childhood, every memory colored by Vanessa's presence. She'd been more of a mother than a sister. And she'd always been there to help her younger, shyer sister. Now Vanessa—and Jason —needed her. "We're in this together, like always."

  "Like always."

  Vanessa turned off the highway and headed for Makawao—which meant "where the forest begins" —driving into the lush up-country ranch lands at the base of Haleakala. Tall eucalyptus and jacaranda trees shaded banks of ferns. Endless meadows of wild ginger danced in the breeze, their white blossoms sending a fragrant scent into the warm air.

  Kentucky must look something like this, Dana thought as she always did when nearing Makawao. White wood fences enclosed pastures of shimmering blue-green grass where horses and cattle grazed. The tall trees and rolling hills blocked the view of the ocean. Only a hint of the sea on the wind reminded Dana that this was Maui.

  The up-country was so different from the tourist beach area that it was difficult to imagine they were within half an hour's drive of the ocean. From experience Dana knew people here were socially as well as geographically isolated from the hotels full of tourists who rarely ventured beyond Maui's shoreline. Many up-country families went back generations, most living in homes they'd inherited.

  Besides ranchers, a number of artists resided in the area, their studios hidden along country lanes that were hardly wide enough for a car. Dropouts from the seventies still lived in enclaves concealed behind banks of tree ferns. New age types had discovered the up-country, too. From gates hung hand painted advertisements for Tarot card readings and psychics. A few signs heralded the up-country's own volcanic crystals, a sure cure for whatever ailed you.