Last Night

by Meryl Sawyer

  "Oh, no!" The sultry voice was no longer so sexy. There was genuine disappointment in Vanessa's tone. "That's not fair."

  "You're right. It's not fair. Dana deserved it."

  "I know she's going to be disappointed." The voice was low again, provocative. "Her career means so much."

  Garth didn't say anything, but he agreed. He suspected that, like himself, all Dana had was her career. That's why it meant so much to her.

  "Do you know Rob Tagett very well?" Vanessa unexpectedly asked.

  "About as well as anybody knows him."

  "I'm worried about Dana. She doesn't have much experience with men. Someone like Rob is so out of character for her." Vanessa sighed, a soft rush of air across the receiver, but it raced down Garth's spine and stopped where all feeling ended at his waist. "I mean, well, Rob seems genuinely interested in Dana, but the stories I've heard—"

  "Forget them. Rob's a good man. He's perfect for Dana." Garth decided the situation must indeed be serious. They hadn't told Vanessa that Rob was working for Dana. Interesting.

  "He's not good for her career."

  "True," Garth conceded. Rob Tagett wasn't right for Dana. A husband with a sterling reputation and a job outside the legal community would be perfect. Still…

  "I hear there's been more trouble." Vanessa interrupted his thoughts. "Gwen called here to ask Dana where she bought her pepper spray. She said the Panama Jack's rapist attacked another woman last night."

  "That's right." Garth shook his head in disgust. Some nut in Honolulu had been following women home from bars and raping them. The press had dubbed the guy the Panama Jack's rapist because two of the victims had been stalked after leaving the popular nightclub.

  "I hope the police catch him soon."

  "I'm sure they will," Garth said, although he had his doubts. The creep was clever. So far they only had a generic description that fit half the men in Hawaii. Tall, broad-shouldered, dark hair.

  "Thanks for calling," Vanessa said. "I'll break the news to Dana."

  Garth would have liked to keep talking, but what could he say to someone he didn't know, someone who was nothing more than a sexy voice. Someone who was married to another man.

  He hung up and wheeled himself out onto the terrace, where it was pitch dark. Beyond the barbecue area was the swimming pool he'd designed. It stretched out, appearing to be part of the ocean, one continuous shimmer of water. At night he liked to sit outside and listen to the symphony of the ocean and the wind in the stately palms. Usually he kept Puni on his shoulder for company. A foul-tempered parrot might not be everyone's idea of the ideal companion, but he was better than the overwhelming silence, broken only by the lonely call of the sea.

  Dana followed Rob down the lava rock path toward Makai House after dinner. They went around to the terrace that faced the sea. She honestly didn't know what to say. If he kissed her again she was going to whack him. Obviously, he thought he was irresistible to every woman. Well, he was dead wrong.

  "Did you find out anything?" Dana tried to keep sarcasm out of her voice, but heard a hint of it despite her best efforts.

  Rob flopped down on one of the bent-willow chairs and propped his feet up on the deck rail. The only light came from a lover's moon, a soft glow as romantic as candlelight. It played across his dark hair and caught the enigmatic blue of his eyes as he pulled the other chair close to his and motioned for her to sit.

  Dana yanked the chair back to where it had been and reluctantly lowered herself into the soft cushions.

  "Big Daddy's banging Moneybags Minerva."

  "Possibly," Dana admitted, recalling all the meltdown looks Minerva cast at Big Daddy during the interminable dinner. "What does that have to do with anything?" She knew she sounded bitchy; she couldn't help herself. Sometimes she had trouble hiding her temper.

  "Coltrane doesn't allow anyone up in his suite except when Eustace cleans it. That means he has to go to Minerva's bungalow, right?"

  "Right." She assumed Vanessa had told him all this. Perhaps their conversation had been more businesslike than it had appeared.

  "Tomorrow night, when Big Daddy's with Minerva, I'm checking his suite. I'd like to know just what's up there."

  "What if he catches you? No telling what he might do."

  "He's not going to. I've got a pair of two-way radios. You're going to hide in the bushes outside Minerva's cottage and warn me."

  "All right," she whispered, finding it hard to imagine herself doing such a thing. She'd always been extraordinarily careful not to break any laws. In the back of her mind she always knew she'd been wrong not to report Hank's death. Sometimes, when she stepped up to the bench, she asked herself, What right do I have to be here?

  Under ordinary circumstances she'd never spy on anyone or be a party to a break-in. But these weren't normal circumstances. She honestly believed Big Daddy had sent the blackmail notes. He seemed to be the blunt, forthright type. The bugs planted everywhere proved he was an out-and-out sneak—the kind of man who would send blackmail notes.

  Dana stared at the starry reflection of the moon as it danced across the waves in the distance, thinking that Rob was in his element. Apparently he had no qualms about breaking in or counterblackmail. While she admired the ruthlessness she saw in him, because she didn't have it herself, Rob frightened her.

  "Aren't you going to ask me what else I learned?"

  "There's more? You've been busier than I thought. " She'd assumed that he'd done nothing more tonight than drool over her sister.

  "Eric Coltrane spends every night in town with his mistress. He comes back just in time to shower and go to work on the ranch."

  "Vanessa told you that?" She heard the anger in her voice. Vanessa had never told her Eric had a mistress.

  "Nah. I got it out of one of the maids."

  Rob's cocky smile should have forewarned her, but she asked anyway. "There's more?"

  "Yeah. Travis has the hots for you."

  "What makes you think that?"

  "The way he kept pawing you at dinner. Every time you leaned forward, he checked out your bra." A surge of heat rose to her cheeks. She was wearing a demi-bra, and it was possible that if you looked down the front of her dress you could see the edge of her breasts. Rob must have looked or he wouldn't know what someone else might see. He was a totally incorrigible lech. He could probably tell her exactly what Vanessa was wearing beneath that white sheath—if anything.

  "Travis just better watch it," Rob said. "If he doesn't keep his hands off you I'm going to deck him."

  Something in his tone left no doubt in Dana's mind that Rob meant what he said. Part of her felt protected in a way that she'd never felt protected before, but she couldn't help resenting his attitude. What right did he have to be so possessive?

  She hesitated, her thoughts turning to Vanessa. She almost asked Rob what he thought about her sister. Then she decided that she didn't really want to hear him put it into words.

  "Let's go inside." Rob rose from his chair and offered her his hand. His strong fingers curled around her palm as he pulled her to her feet. "Remember, we've been in the grotto making love."

  Who but Rob would have thought of the grotto? The mountain-lake pool was surrounded by artfully placed boulders. Waterfalls flowed into it, creating "slides" over the rocks just like the "slides" in the rain forest, which had been Mother Nature's inspiration rather than a showcase for some jet-set landscape architect.

  Between two slides was a grotto concealed by a thicket of ferns. Jason and his friends played on the rocks, jumping off them into the pool or sliding down the mossy boulders as if they were on some amusement-park ride. When they tired of this, they played hide and seek, often hiding in the grotto.

  "It's so dark in the grotto," was all Dana could think to say once they were back in the cottage.

  Rob laughed, a rich, deep masculine laugh that was as wanton as sin on Sunday. "I don't need light. I go by feel. Admit it, you loved it."

  "Well
," Dana struggled to keep her voice light. "It was more fun than doing it in bed, but those ferns tickled. And I think I lost my bra somewhere."

  "Nah, it's right here in my pocket." He stopped dead in his tracks and she nearly bumped into him.

  He turned to face her, staring into her eyes and grinning. Oh, Lord, what was he up to now? Before she could stop him, he hooked one finger over the top of her sundress and pulled it back, exposing the sexy demi-bra. He silently whistled and winked.

  She swatted his hand away, but not before his warm palm accidentally grazed one breast. The nipple sprang to life, and his mocking eyes didn't miss the raised fabric. He slowly ran his tongue over his lower lip.

  Furious, she turned away. Rob was into sexual games; she wasn't a player. She never had been. He was a bum who would hustle her sister at dinner, then fondle her later. She grabbed her nightgown and robe from the closet and headed for the bathroom. "I won't be in here too long."

  She shut the door and kicked off her shoes, wondering what Rob would pull when she came out.

  Bug or no bug, she was sleeping on the love seat. Sure, it would be cramped, but anything would be better than getting in bed with that lout. She unzipped her dress, pausing when she heard a knock on the cottage door. Wondering who it could be, she moved closer to the door.

  "Hello, Rob." It was Vanessa's voice.

  "Dana's in the bathroom," he said. "Do you want to come in and wait?"

  "No. I want to talk to you."

  Dana kept her ear to the bathroom door. The next sound was the soft click of the cottage door shutting behind them. Dana whirled around and stared at her reflection in the mirror. What was her beloved sister doing? She'd never known Vanessa to be so brazen.

  But then, Vanessa had never met Rob Tagett. He was the kind of man who'd be a challenge for a woman like Vanessa. Even so, didn't her sister care about her feelings? What if she really loved Rob?

  Dana turned on the water in the tub and told herself it didn't matter. Vanessa was welcome to the leech. All she'd hired Rob to do was find the blackmailer, and she had to admit he had made more progress than she could have on her own.

  She sprinkled lavender bath salts into the tub and slipped into the water. At least she didn't have to hurry. Surely he wouldn't be back for hours. When she finally emerged from the bathroom, her robe tied tight, she saw that Rob had returned. He'd turned the sheets down and placed the narrow cushions from the love seat down the middle of the bed, creating an effective barrier. You'd have to be dead to roll over those cushions without waking up.

  He'd turned out the lights, but the full moon streamed through the open door, bringing with it a cool breeze and the aroma of wild ginger. Crickets called to their mates, and in the distance came the deep ribbit-ribbit of the bullfrogs, who lived in the lagoon with the koi. The ceiling fan was on, its wide blades circulating the air with a comforting whoosh that usually lulled her to sleep.

  Rob was sprawled across his side of the bed, facedown, wearing nothing but Joe Boxer shorts. Dana knew Joe Boxers from advertisements in the Honolulu Sun. They were printed with outrageous sayings.

  She edged nearer, recalling the last time she thought he was asleep. She leaned closer, so close that she could see the pulse throbbing at the base of his neck. He was asleep all right, breathing evenly, his tanned face and dusky eyelashes a stark contrast to the white pillowcase.

  Her hand hovered just above his bare shoulders. Heat radiated from his skin, warming her palm and drawing her hand downward. She knew she should stay away from him, but she couldn't help herself. She honestly couldn't.

  With a tremor in her fingers, she touched his shoulder. She inhaled sharply, half-expecting him to awaken and round on her as he had earlier. She waited a moment, her fingers resting lightly on him.

  He didn't move, although the whisper-soft ceiling fan ruffled his dark hair.

  His skin was smooth, but beneath her fingertips she detected the raw power she always associated with him. Knowing he was truly asleep, she couldn't resist letting her hand glide down the masculine plane of his back across the bare skin that was surprisingly soft. The muscles beneath were firm though, as solid as the beat of his heart.

  Her hand drifted downward a scant inch at a time, stopping at the waistband of his Joe Boxers. She could tell that the underwear was brand-new. It was crisp and had deep creases from being in the package. Using the moonlight, she had to squint to read what was written on them.

  Just Say Yo!

  11

  A bar of sunlight warmed Dana's cheek, and she raised her arm to cover her face, thinking this had to be the weekend—the alarm hadn't gone off—and she could sleep past six. As she lay there not quite awake, she remembered she wasn't home.

  She was in bed with Rob Tagett.

  She kept her eyes shut tight, questioning the wisdom of her decision last night. Rob had been sound asleep; the love seat was so small. She'd eased herself onto the bed and positioned herself with her back to him and the barricade of sofa cushions.

  Her arm still sheltering her face, Dana peeked out and saw that she'd turned over during the night and was a mere inch from the cushions that divided the bed. She dropped her arm, set to sneak out of bed before Rob awoke, but he was already gazing at her, his cocked arm propping his head up.

  In the mellow sunlight his eyes were twilight blue, shaded by double tiers of lashes the same dark color as the rasp of stubble shading his jaw. He smiled, a slow sensual smile, his eyes traveling across her face and down her neck. As his gaze drifted lower yet, Dana glanced down.

  The lacy bodice of her black silk gown gaped open, exposing most of her breasts. Searing heat flared up to her cheeks as she recalled the way he'd looked down the front of her dress last night. The man had only one thing on his mind. She reached down to grab the sheet and saw that her gown had inched up, revealing her legs right up to the tops of her thighs. She straightened her gown and started to roll out of bed.

  Rob's arm came down on her shoulder. "Morning, princess."

  His eyes swung to the quilt with the intrusive bug, and she snapped her mouth shut before she said something ugly. "Good morning," she managed to respond.

  "I need to talk to you." He sat up and propped his back against the headboard, completely comfortable with his near-nude state.

  Dana didn't know where to look, certainly not at the bulge in his Joe Boxers. She knew what men were like first thing in the morning. Couldn't he at least pull up the sheet?

  "Last night Garth called, and Vanessa spoke with him," Rob began, his tone gentle. "The superior court appointment went to Craig Olsen."

  "Really?" was all Dana could say. That must have been why Vanessa had come out to Makai House. True, she was disappointed about not getting that appointment, but she was much more relieved that Vanessa hadn't been chasing Rob. "It doesn't matter."

  He reached across the blockade of cushions and put his large hand over hers, lacing his strong fingers between her smaller ones. For a change there was nothing aggressive about the gesture. It was tender, reassuring. "Once your name is on the list of acceptable candidates, it stays. You'll get another shot at it."

  She was so astounded by his concern that she didn't know what to say. It seemed so out of character for him. He kept looking at her until she pulled her hand from his. "It's your turn to get the bathroom first," she said, forcing a light tone.

  He jumped up, his more familiar joking expression back in place. "Yeah, you really hogged the head last night. I fell asleep waiting."

  While Rob was in the shower Dana dressed, putting on crisp white shorts and a navy shirt trimmed in white. She inspected her reflection in the full-length mirror. She wanted to look professional. Rob had a friend on the Maui police force. They were going to see him this morning, although Dana couldn't imagine what help he'd be.

  Rob opened the bathroom door and steam billowed out, but she could see that all he was wearing was a towel carelessly tucked around his hips. One quick turn and the
thing would fall off. "We're going to the beach this afternoon. Can you round up towels and an umbrella?"

  "Sure," she said, thankful to have an excuse to get out of the cottage. "There's beach equipment in the cabana. I'll get what we need."

  She was halfway down the lava rock path to the pool when she realized that going to the beach hadn't been part of the original plan. She gathered towels and an umbrella, wondering what Rob was up to now.

  Back at the cottage, Rob was standing in the bathroom, shaving, not bothering to shut the door. Dana tossed the towels on the bed as he motioned for her to come inside. Wary, she edged in and he closed the door.

  Before she could protest Rob said, "Don't mention the police. I don't want that bug to pick it up."

  "Do I look stupid?"

  "Now that you mention it—-yes," he said, unfazed by her sudden burst of temper.

  She quickly backed out, ignoring the water droplets on the wedge of hair feathering his chest and the cute puff of shaving cream on his earlobe.

  "Don't you want to use the bathroom too?"

  Did he honestly think that she'd be willing to share the bathroom? Look at him! The towel had worked its way down on his hips, dangerously close to coming undone. Yet he didn't seem to notice. Or care.

  "I used the cabana," she said as she left.

  Rob was much more comfortable with his body than she was with hers, Dana decided as she changed into a swimsuit, then put on her shorts again. Evidently he was accustomed to parading around in front of adoring women. But she wasn't used to wearing skimpy clothes. She was thankful she'd brought a conservative swimsuit. The more clothes she had on around Rob, the safer she felt.

  Kahului was the main city on Maui, but few tourists visited it, Rob thought as he drove the convertible through the streets. The flip side of paradise. It wasn't a bad town, if you liked Buffalo in the fifties, Hawaiian style. It was populated mostly by hotel workers and other service personnel who couldn't afford to live in the exclusive beachfront condos.