“It’ll be hell to keep clean, but God it’s stunning when it is.”
Self-consciously checking the soles of his feet, Naoki used the counter for leverage and jolted when his cell phone chimed the Tarantella. Muttering something in Japanese that Briana could not interpret, he looked up sheepishly. “I’ve got a quick errand to run.”
Briana melted because she knew from the chime who had just paged him. “Grandma?”
“Umm.” He nodded, embarrassed. “She’s run out of tea. Crisis in the Aloha state.”
Commiserating with Naoki, Briana had accepted from the beginning that there would be times her assistant would disappear during the day to run odd jobs for his elderly grandmother, the stern-faced, but loving woman who had raised him alone. Through Naoki, Briana found that in the Asian culture you respect the wishes of your elders no matter what time of day, and how preposterous the request. And she knew that Naoki would make up for the absences twofold.
Briana held a deep fondness for Keito Takanawa, a fondness that was mutual by the shrewd female who became a surrogate mother to Briana. Perhaps it was that Naoki had lost his parents early in life too, but the bond between the two Takanawas and herself was strong.
“For God’s sake man, run!”
He chuckled. “Sorry Bree. Be back real soon.”
Briana was still smiling as she heard Naoki jog down the front steps.
One last circuit around the house confirmed that the décor was tasteful, not pretentious. She stood in the foyer, under the cathedral ceiling, watching prisms of sun cast rainbows across the wall.
Stooping to yank on her shoes, she then peered at the digital alarm, tentatively keying in the sequence number. Satisfied that it took, she reached for the front door and walked directly into a broad, hard chest.
Loose cotton fabric that smelled of the sun overwhelmed Briana. She muttered a distracted apology and tried to backpedal. Strong hands seized her waist when she stumbled in her heels. Finally able to right herself, she drew back her shoulders and retreated.
“I’m sorry,” she began automatically, but then looked up into the crooked grin of Nick McCord.
“Wh-what do you want?” Anger and the residual effects of his touch made her stutter. “I thought we decided that our next contact would be through our lawyers.”
“You may have decided that, Briana.”
“It’s Ms. Holt!” she interjected. “And I asked you what you’re doing here.”
To add to her stress, the alarm began to shrill because the front door had been left open too long. Throwing her hands in the air in silent appeal, she turned her back on Nick and quickly muted the siren. To her dismay, she discovered that he had followed her inside and was now executing a full pivot in the foyer, his head tilted back to reveal a throat she could imagine rubbing her lips against. It would feel warm, and taste salty, and there would be a hearty pulse beneath her kiss—
“Briana?”
Briana blinked and clamped her mouth shut.
“Why do you insist on calling me that?” Exasperation added a strange pitch to her voice.
“Because it’s a beautiful name and it suits you.”
“Flattery from a man who has sealed my fate?”
Nick smirked. “Oh, trust me, I’m not pleased with the fact that I find you attractive, but I’m strong. I can overcome it.”
“Well—” Briana opened her mouth for a witty comeback, but found that she had none. As a matter of fact, she was having trouble getting past the, I find you attractive part.
“Anyway,” he continued, “the place isn’t too bad.”
She cleared her throat and managed, “It’s beautiful, but your opinion doesn’t really matter.”
“Yes it does.” Nick’s head tipped back down, his eyes paralyzing her. “That’s why you were on the phone with the state this morning. Actually, I didn’t expect to find you in here. I thought you’d be out skulking around the property.”
White fingers clenched around the leather strap of her purse as Briana strove for composure. “It’s not my style to skulk, Mr. McCord.” It irked her that he always seemed to find her amusing.
“Look, I’ll be honest with you,” he said. “If I had an inkling that you might be in here, I’d have stayed away. I just came to see what all the fuss was about—whether these homes were worth destroying one of Oahu’s best beaches.”
“You’re insane. You have no proof. Those—those papers you showed me mean nothing.”
Nick moved into the living room, but halted at the sound of her shrill voice.
“Take your shoes off!”
He kicked off the Timberlands, abandoning them right where he stood and moved towards the bank of casement windows.
With a huff, Briana bent to retrieve his shoes and drop them safely on the tiled entryway. Her face burned and she felt she was bordering on hysteria. What a drastic reaction for one so usually composed.
“Look, the model is not open for the public yet. I can arrange for you to have a walk through with one of the realtors in a day or two.”
“But it’s much more personalized this way, don’t you think, Briana? I mean being shown the work by its creator.”
“I am not the architect.”
Nick glanced over his shoulder. “No, but you are the one who brought this all together. I’ve done my research. I know none of this would have happened without you, and honestly I apologize about the comment regarding this being a haole project. I learned that most of these lots have already been sold to natives, at reasonable prices.”
“I hear this lingering but in the air.”
“You may have had good intentions, but the result of your work is going to have devastating impact on the coastline, something that could cost taxpayers a lot of money to rectify.”
Briana sighed and reached a hand up beneath her bangs to massage her forehead. “I’ll tell you what, Mr. McCord. As much as the sight of you aggravates me and makes me yearn for aspirin, perhaps you should stick around, survey the project, and see firsthand how wrong you are.”
“I have Excedrin in my jeep,” he offered.
Her fingers curled into a fist.
Nick smothered a chuckle. "Okay, I’ll stay and survey your project.”
***
That chuckle faltered as Nick caught Briana’s breasts heave in exasperation. He all but gawked as the gentle swells pressed against her silken shirt. Beneath the slightly sheer fabric, he could see the outline of her bra and detected a rim of lace.
Dragging his gaze from that temptation up to the flash of fire in her eyes, he thought that this woman was hot on a whole other level.
Smarten up, McCord. If you’re going to start looking at women again, don’t let it be this one. You need something simple in your life.
Of all the metaphors that came to mind when he looked at Briana Holt, simple was not one of them.
Nick prowled the outskirts of the site, his attention focused primarily on the behemoth tractors with their vacillating claws. He was somewhat mollified to see the contents of those claws deposited straight into the wide bed of a dump truck. Glancing down at his watch, he cursed, recalling the meeting that was now taking place at the University without him.
At this stage, he could not present a convincing case against Moku Land Inc. But he did need to inform USGS of the facts that were available, and those all indicated that something was agitating the ocean bed just off the Windward coast. Some of the signs were indicative of dredging operations, but the coast was protected by law, with no underwater ventures allowed that would possibly tamper with the coral reef. This left only the construction at Manale Palms as a potential source.
Nick glanced up when he noticed a flash of cobalt across the courtyard just beyond the billowing fountain. Briana moved purposefully, the brisk gait forcing a gap in the pleated slit of her skirt. He jerked his gaze from those sexy long legs, and watched as an insistent breeze blew loose golden wisps of hair into gentle spirals around her face,
and molded the silky blouse to her chest.
Briana stopped to confront a small congregation of men. Though she was tall, she was still forced to look up at them. From this distance, he watched in fascination the graceful hand that gestured with authority even as the wind threatened to yank her slackened ponytail free.
Adjacent to him, at the rim of a newly excavated trough, a construction worker in a hard-hat gaped openly and muttered something about wanting a piece of that.
Nick’s jaw clenched. “You don’t have time for that.”
The spike of jealousy startled him. He took it out on the man in the pit. “Look at the angle of this trench. Are you going to leave it like this?”
A face that had tanned to burnt leather revealed plump lips pursed in affront. The man cocked his head and considered the tall visitor, reproachful of what he suspected was another useless engineer. He yanked the plastic helmet back on tighter and grumbled on his descent into the pit.
Yeah, Nick was definitely not pleased with the way his body responded to Briana Holt. Hell, he was used to the University of Hawaii campus, where there were literally hundreds of twenty-one year olds—old enough to be legal; young enough to make a man his age yearn for a time long ago. And most practically throwing themselves at his feet. But no, his body reacted to an opinionated, over-worked land contractor.
After a comprehensive assessment of the grounds, Nick noted approvingly that Briana had built homes, places with yards for children to play, not some god-awful thirty-story condominium complex that would simply add another scar to the coastline.
Watching her, he had to seriously consider what brought him here today, away from a critical meeting. He didn’t need to review this construction site. The operation appeared legitimate. If there was trouble, it most likely stemmed from lazy workers who would not be caught dumping during the light of day, but rather under the cloak of night when the battalion of engineers and surveyors were out of sight.
No, he was here for one reason and that aggravated him. Of their own volition, his eyes scaled up those slim legs. Leisurely, he trailed higher to the alluring curves of her breasts. He could almost sense what they would feel like to the touch. Soft, small, perfect.
His glance rose to the silky hair and imagined his hands immersed in that sultry fan of gold. The fantasy progressed as he tipped her head back.
Nick growled an oath, and wrenched away. It was time to get the hell out of here.
CHAPTER THREE
“Some of the guys are going over to Baywater’s. Why don’t you come along, Bree?”
Briana’s nose was immersed in a box of Keito’s okashi—gingerbread that smelled divine. “Hmm? Oh, I don’t know, I feel like I’ve been through the ringer today.”
“Exactly why you deserve to get out. Come on, I’ll buy you a beer.”
Pushing the box away, Briana relented with a wicked grin. “How can I resist? But—”
“No.” He shook his head, crossed his arms and planted his feet in confrontation. “Grandma ordered me to take you out. She says you are looking pale.”
“Ah, and your clever grandmother believes that alcohol will bring color back to my cheeks?”
Naoki barked a short laugh and nodded.
Baywater’s was a cozy thatch-roofed restaurant directly across from Manale Beach. The Koolau range was its backdrop, and the placid Pacific its vista. Thick-trunked banyan trees bristled around the open patio where the sound of a Ukulele drifted across the parking lot.
Briana tugged her hair from its confines and then glanced down at her skirt, wishing she had dressed more casually. The din of conversation, mingling with the harmonious tune, had her tension receding, though. She hummed along with the melody and flashed Naoki a grin.
The maître d’, dressed in a colorful sarong, greeted them with a congenial smile. Naoki continued past her towards the congested bar.
Briana tugged on his arm. “She’s new. Cute. A redhead. I could see you with a red-head.”
Large eyes rolled behind his glasses as Naoki elbowed into position, ordering a beer for himself and a Mai Tai for Briana.
“Are you trying to get me wasted? Tomorrow’s still a work day, you know.”
“If you don’t mind me saying, Bree,” Naoki handed her the tall glass and tipped the rim of his beer bottle against it. “If ever there was a person in need of a strong drink, it’s you.”
Briana rolled her eyes. “How flattering, Takanawa. I’m fine.”
She sipped the fruity rum cocktail and managed a congenial nod at one of the builders across the U-shaped bar.
“You’re not supposed to hibernate in the corner here with me,” Naoki chastised. “You’re supposed to go mingle with the people you work with, it’s called socializing.”
“And you’re the guru of that.” Briana chided the young man who averted his head when the maître d’ cast him a sidelong glance.
Tainted by years of practically being a part of his family, Briana had to step back and reassessed Naoki Takanawa. He was thin in a wiry sort of way. His almond eyes were somewhat distorted behind the thick lenses, and his shock of black hair was made erratic by determined cowlicks. But all in all, he had a handsome face and an engaging demeanor to the few he trusted. If he were to remove his glasses, those eyes caught the second glance of many women at the bar.
Briana began scanning the possibilities. Two seats to Naoki’s right, a young blond in a bikini top and shorts giggled with her girlfriend. The redheaded maître d’ made several trips past them, but in the tight quarters, this was inevitable. Briana’s glance swept the bar again, lingering on the pensive woman sitting by herself in the corner. The young woman had her face cupped in the palm of her hand, and an elbow on the lacquered bar. Initially, Briana thought the girl had had too much to drink, but on second pass, sensed that she was distraught.
Toying with the striped straw in her soda, the young woman’s jet-black hair slid down her shoulders in a lush ebony waterfall. Short bangs barely concealed her downcast eyes.
Briana caught Naoki watching her too. “She doesn’t look like she’s having much fun,” he mumbled.
“No, it would appear that way.” Briana saw the light of interest in Naoki’s eyes, but knew if she pushed he would scurry out the back door.
“Now would you look at that,” he asserted. “Bob Thomas is putting the moves on her. Heck, he can’t even walk straight.”
Across the bar they watched as the young woman tried to ignore the intoxicated surveyor. He draped himself across the back of her stool, leaning over her shoulder and talking so loud that she flinched.
“Maybe her boyfriend is in the bathroom,” Naoki offered.
“I don’t think so. There’s no empty stool beside her, and she’s been sitting there since we came in.” Just a heartbeat of a pause, and then Briana prompted, “I think you should go distract Bob.”
Naoki’s eyebrows knitted. He watched the girl shift uncomfortably. “Yeah, I-I think I should too. Will you be okay?”
“Me? Of course. No one’s going to bother an old broad like me.”
Naoki shook his head as he alighted off the barstool and took one last indecisive glance across the counter. “Yeah, thirty-three, right? Or have the carbon-dating tests come back yet?”
Briana smacked his shoulder and then shooed him with a wave of her hands. “Go, quick. Bob’s starting to drool on the counter.”
With a tightening in her chest that bordered on maternal pride, or simply that she was melancholy, Briana watched Naoki divert Bob Thomas, and then pause uncertainly behind the raven-haired beauty. His first attempt at conversation was off its mark. The girl gave a non-committal shrug and returned to the glass clutched in her hands.
Come on, Takanawa. Try again.
Bob elbowed his way to the foreground, his bright floral shirt clinging to a beer belly. Naoki’s hand came to rest on the surveyor’s forearm, and with a few emphatic words, Bob was swiping his fingers through thinning hair and shifting toward
s the next target, a buxom blond, deep in conversation with the bartender. From this distance Briana recognized the shy grin emerging on Naoki’s face as the raven-haired beauty turned in her seat and contemplated her redeemer. Only a few more minutes and Naoki was sliding a discarded barstool alongside the young woman.
Briana chuckled and took another sip of her drink. Duping Naoki into believing that he was dragging her out, she had been concerned that her introverted friend needed to mingle with people his own age and actually manage a social life rather than follow in her tedious footsteps. Satisfied with the results, Briana frowned as an errant elbow shoved her from behind. A throng of new arrivals pressed against the bar.
Briana yanked her purse over her shoulder and shoved past them. Reassured that Naoki was engrossed in conversation, she tactfully wove her way through the crowd, and out into the rosy blend of twilight.
Just across the street was Manale State Park, where college students were readying their outriggers for trial races. Briana took a deep breath of humid air and instinctively started towards Manale Palms. It was as if she were homed to the site by an internal beacon. Reaching the entrance, which was roped off to the public, she waved at the night guard who was accustomed to her nocturnal visits.
The fountain was shut down and a serene silence permeated the cul-de-sacs. All that could be heard was the whisper of palms over skeletal, unfinished rooftops.
Briana crossed her arms against the evening chill. It rapidly grew darker and there were only two functional streetlights in the complex. They shed faint arcs of light against the fresh blacktop, but the pooling shadows concealed ditches that if one weren’t careful could swallow a person whole. Treading deftly around obstacles that were seared in her mind, Briana made her way towards the bayfront property.
The gentle sounds of water lapping against the seawall enticed her as she tilted her head and listened to the distant churn of a fishing boat coming in. Its overhead lights cast glistening diamonds across an inlet that had blended into a dusky shade of wine.
HIGH TIDE Page 3
