Heat Wave

by Jill Marie Landis

  Kat laughed. “Mrs. Kline didn’t, either. She was aiming for her husband at the time.”

  “Ouch. A woman scorned, huh?”

  “Right.”

  His smile faded. “Are you often in danger?”

  Kat shook her head. “Not unless you count the stress of freeway driving or sitting hunched over a keyboard too long, which is eighty percent of what I do. But there are occasions when I have to go into some iffy areas to interview someone or serve court docs to somewhat less than desirable characters.”

  “Do you go armed?” He pretended to check her out. “Did you bring your gun along tonight?”

  “No, but don’t get any ideas. I hold a black belt in Tae Kwon Do.”

  TY HAD BEEN getting more than ideas since the moment Kat opened her door tonight and he caught a hint of her perfume. The exotic scent held just enough spice to tease and tempt and remind him how long it had been since he’d been with a woman.

  He had no idea what to expect of Kat Vargas, but he admired the blend of bravado and wariness in her eyes, and he’d yet to discover why she remained so guarded.

  She hadn’t hidden her appreciation of the old cottage, though, which meant more to him than he would have guessed.

  Sharing dinner and conversation tonight only whetted his appetite, and made him want to know her better.

  Every time he looked at the bandage on her hand, his stomach knotted, yet she appeared nonchalant about the injury, treating it as if it were no big deal. He hoped what she’d said earlier was true—that she wasn’t often in harm’s way.

  He could count the women he’d been as physically attracted to on one hand. Amy had been first and foremost. Certainly Victoria’s looks had caught his eye long before she’d captured his heart. By the time they parted ways and divorced, it was without hard feelings. In fact, there had been very little emotion left between them at all after they realized they had entirely different goals and very little in common outside of sex.

  A few years later he’d ended up sharing a small cabin in the outback with a former flight attendant for a few months until she, like Vic, decided life in the land of the midnight sun was driving her stark-raving mad. After that there weren’t a hell of a lot of opportunities for a guy living in Alaska to meet eligible women.

  He wasn’t fool enough to think that he’d ever burn with the kind of teenage infatuation and intensity he had at seventeen, but there was something about Kat Vargas that ignited his imagination, made him want to get to know her better, to spend more time with her. It wasn’t in the least difficult to fantasize about making love to her.

  He finished and pushed his empty plate aside, for the moment content just to watch her. From the way she attacked the yellowfin, he figured she was bound and determined to polish off every bite.

  “How long have you lived in California?” He figured she was honest enough to tell him to back off if she didn’t want to answer even the most general question.

  “Around five years.” She swallowed another bite, then reached for her wineglass.

  “Do you ever go back to visit?”

  “A few times, but not for over a year now. I’ve got a business to run, you know. Did you come back home to see your mom very often?”

  “Not at first. After I married Victoria, we came down for Christmas a few times, but she and my mom didn’t get along.”

  “You said your mom never liked Amy, either.”

  “After I married Vic, it was pretty obvious I’d probably never choose anyone who could live up to my mom’s standards.” He shifted in his chair, leaned back to study Kat against the flickering lamplight.

  “You must be pretty angry about what your mom did, keeping you from your child.”

  “Things are what they are. I’d rather put my energy into finding my daughter.”

  As if some unseen hand had flipped a switch, the sound of crickets suddenly filled the night air. The thunder of the surf kept time to the slow and steady beat of his heart.

  A backdrop of stars dusted the night sky. A sliver of moon was doing its best to make up for its size. He drank in the loveliness of the beautiful woman beside him, tempted to reach over and run his fingertips across the back of her wrist just to see if her skin was as soft as it looked.

  He smiled to himself when he recalled she’d mentioned her black belt and let the temptation pass.

  “Have you ever been married, Kat?”

  “No.” Blunt and to the point.

  Obviously, that was a forbidden subject, so he asked, “How did you end up here when you could be living in paradise?”

  When Kat’s lovely mouth tightened and she frowned, he wished he hadn’t asked.

  SHE FELL IN LOVE with Justin Parker the first time she laid eyes on him. Two minutes after they were introduced, he asked her out. She was a few months shy of her twenty-fourth birthday.

  Within two weeks she was no longer a virgin. He had moved into her place in Kapa’a, she was in love, and walking on air.

  He traveled a lot, naturally. He’d been a pro surfer since his early teens, and though the celebrity shine on his surfing star had tarnished a bit, he still had plenty of contacts.

  He was counting on his name selling surfboards as well as a line of board shorts and beachwear. All he needed was a backer.

  She got used to driving him to the Lihue airport, dropping a lei around his neck, and kissing him good-bye. He never failed to bring a new wind chime back for her from wherever he went.

  Life couldn’t get any better. Justin was bound to find an investor. He promised her a big wedding as soon as his business was off the ground.

  She had no idea that his promises were all lies.

  What he found on a trip to L.A. wasn’t a backer, but supermodel Tara Roman, or Tara found him, at a cocktail party hosted by Justin’s sports agent.

  Kat shook off the memories, preferring to keep her past to herself. It was bad enough that she’d had to live it.

  Why couldn’t Ty just be content knowing she was Kat Vargas, P.I., owner of a well-established firm? Enthusiastic. Dependable. Reliable. Honest. Thorough. Successful. Finito. Pau. End of story.

  She looked at the distant first star. He was still waiting for an answer, wanting to know why she had left paradise.

  She gazed at him over the rim of her wineglass. What would he say if she told him that one man’s paradise was another man’s hell?

  “I left because I needed a change and the job market was better over here.”

  He didn’t need to know the gory details or that she couldn’t stand being surrounded by memories or the scent of jasmine on the night air, or views of haunting mists hovering around the emerald mountain tops. She couldn’t stand being reminded of Justin or the accident, or how she’d been naive enough to believe that people never lied when they said “I love you.”

  She was still haunted by nightmares. Even now the sound of wind chimes, no matter how faint, would revive old memories capable of wounding her all over again.

  But mostly she left Hawaii because here, in California, no one ever looked at her with pity in their eyes. Here she wasn’t suffocated by her family wanting to help and not knowing how.

  The warmth of Ty’s hand suddenly penetrated hers when he reached across the table, covered her hand with his.

  “I’m sorry, Kat.”

  She took a deep breath, savored the human contact, the heat of his palm before she slipped her hand out from beneath his, finished off the rest of her wine, forced a smile. “Don’t worry about it. The reasons I left were too many to count. Besides, that was a long time ago.”

  Long enough now that you should be over it, Vargas.

  Ty got up and began to clear the table.

  “Let me help,” she offered. He waved her away.

  �
�Relax. I’ll be right back.”

  She got up and walked across the sandy yard, past the edge of the patio, to stand and look over the bluff.

  A high tide had carved the beach into a mere sliver of milk-white sand glistening in the moonlight. An old wooden stairway hugged the cliff, zigzagging its way down to the beach.

  Without actually turning, she knew when Ty had crossed the yard, knew the minute he drew near. She half expected him to touch her hand, knowing that despite the fact that she wanted to take things slowly, she was anticipating his touch.

  But he didn’t touch her again. Instead he locked his arms behind his back and stood beside her, much like a seafaring man on the deck of his ship. The sound of the sea surrounded them as together they stared out at the dark, churning water.

  She was the first to break the stillness.

  “How many steps are there in that old stairway?” It was too dark to tell but it seemed to go on forever.

  “It seems like a thousand when you’re climbing them under the heat of the sun. A Chandler built the original stairway.”

  She imagined a man who looked like Ty hand-sawing every piece of wood, climbing up and down the cliff-face to nail them into place. “That must have taken a lot of time and patience.”

  “Chandlers are as stubborn as hell.”

  He was obviously proud of the family trait. She heard it in his warm, deep voice as it wrapped itself around her. Their shoulders brushed.

  “I’m sure all the work was worth it,” he added. “It gave the house access to the beach.”

  “A thousand steps aren’t very many when they’re taking you home,” she said softly.

  SHE DOESN’T KNOW the hurt shows.

  Ty heard it in her voice and saw it in her eyes, even in the glow of lamplight when he’d asked why she’d left paradise. She tried hard to hide it beneath a no-nonsense exterior, but a couple of times tonight she’d looked so sad and vulnerable that he’d been tempted to wrap his arms around her and hold her close.

  Somewhere between knocking on her front door this morning and standing here now, he had decided Kat Vargas was worth getting to know better. He wanted to find out all about her, and discover who or what had put the sorrow in her eyes. If she was interested in him in return, she hadn’t shown the slightest indication.

  He watched the wind off the water brush loose strands of her shoulder-length hair across her face, watched her lift her hand and sweep the strands back into place.

  Her every move was filled with grace and sensuality, down to the merest flick of her wrist.

  “Are you a dancer?”

  “What makes you ask?”

  “You’re very graceful.”

  “I dance hula.”

  “Really?”

  “Crazy huh?”

  “I’d love to see you dance sometime. Keep your eyes on the hands, not on the hips. Right? Isn’t that what they say?”

  She laughed. “Yes. That’s what they say. I worked my way through college dancing in a Polynesian review. I don’t dance much anymore, but it’s something that never leaves you.”

  Standing beside her, listening to the steady rhythm of the sea hitting the rocks was comforting in its constancy. For the first time since his mother had told him about his child, the anxiety and impatience building inside him had taken a backseat to a tense, visceral need, stoked by the lovely Ms. Kat Vargas, P.I.

  “I’m glad you’ve taken my case, Kat.”

  “Don’t remind me you’re a client,” she said softly.

  “Right. You don’t fraternize with clients.”

  “You’re finally getting it.”

  He laughed and then, together, they turned toward the sound of a car on the road out front.

  “Probably some kids parking.”

  “Don’t get any ideas, Chandler,” she teased.

  “Don’t worry. I value my cajones too much to try anything with you. I have the feeling you’d either karate the hell out of me or plug me with a bullet.”

  “Finally. You’re getting the message.”

  They were both laughing when the back screen door banged and he heard a familiar voice call out, “Hey, Chandler? Arrgh, matey! Prepare to be boarded!”

  Ty tried not to groan. He and Kat turned and watched a man in a bright Hawaiian shirt, faded threadbare jeans, and flip-flops pause outside the door and look around the patio.

  “I brought grog!” He waved a bottle of wine over his head.

  “Who is that?” Kat whispered.

  “An old friend, but I’m taking him off the list as of this minute. His name’s Ron Johnson. Everyone calls him R.J.”

  “Does he always talk like a pirate?”

  “No, thank God.”

  “Chandler? Where are you?” R.J. walked over to the patio table, checked out the wineglasses, and stared out into the darkness beyond the halo light from the hurricane lamp.

  Ty put his hand on Kat’s waist to help guide her across the uneven ground in the darkness. The innocent physical connection seemed natural. As if she’d been made for him to touch.

  “Over here,” he called to R.J. “Nice of you to drop by unannounced, buddy.”

  R.J. set the wine bottle on the table and waited for them to cross the yard. “Since when do I need to call first?” He let go a deep laugh.

  As Ty and Kat stepped into the light, Ty introduced them, and Kat tried not to notice that R.J. was checking her out.

  “Shoot. I didn’t know you were entertaining or I’d have crashed the party sooner.” He continued to stare at Kat.

  “We just finished—”

  R.J. cut Ty off with a wave. “Please, no details.”

  “Have a seat,” Ty invited.

  With a flourish, R.J. held out a chair for Kat and then sat down beside her.

  “Don’t try anything,” Ty warned. “The lady has a black belt and a gun.”

  THE FIRST THING Ron noticed when he met Kat Vargas was the thorough once-over she gave him. She was totally composed as she smiled and offered him a handshake, but her smile never really reached her eyes. If he’d interrupted anything intimate, it sure as hell didn’t show.

  “You afraid I’ll shanghai her?” he asked Ty.

  “No. I just thought I’d warn you. Kat’s a P.I.,” Ty explained.

  “That’s it, then.”

  “That’s what?” Kat Vargas asked him.

  “The way you keep sizing me up.”

  Ty laughed but the lady didn’t. Instead she said, “Old habits die hard.” Then she smiled and took a sip of the wine he’d offered.

  “I hired her to help me find my daughter.” Ty shifted, moving closer to Kat.

  “Daughter?” The last R.J. had heard, Ty knew that Amy had been pregnant with his child but knew none of the details.

  “We’ve already tracked down the Simmonses. They told me Amy had a girl and that she named her Sunny.” Ty glanced at the petite P.I. beside him. “We haven’t gotten any leads yet, but we’re working on it.”

  We. Ty already looked like a goner, so R.J. focused on Kat. He hoped the woman wasn’t leading his buddy on a wild-goose chase.

  “You really think you can find her?” he asked Kat.

  “I’m sure as hell trying.”

  He noticed her left hand was bandaged, also that she had the body of an athlete. Gorgeous eyes with dark, slender brows, thick lashes. There was a golden glow to her skin. And she had a plump mouth, the kind that could put a lot of ideas about kissing her in a man’s head.

  He wondered how long Ty would be able to resist. He doubted it would be very long before the poor sucker fell for her.

  Back when they were kids, Ty had won all the trophies and made the local headlines every football season. Chandler was the one al
l the girls had been after in high school, but once he fell for Amy, he never played around.

  Unfortunately, by the time they were seniors, Amy had been too messed up to know a good thing when she had it.

  As for himself, he’d lived with the same woman for ten years without ever getting around to asking her to marry him. Then one day she up and left him for a guy with three kids and—more’s the pity—he hadn’t really cared. If he had a soul mate out there somewhere, he’d yet to meet her. Then again, he wasn’t looking very hard.

  Women were great, but having one in his own life on a permanent basis wasn’t a necessity, at least it never had been.

  Ty, on the other hand, was the settling type. He always talked about how he’d do this or that if he had kids, but despite being married for a while and living with some gal after that, Ty still hadn’t ever gotten the family he’d always wanted.

  Ever since Ty’s bitch of a mother told him Amy had left town pregnant, Ty had been chomping at the bit to find his long-lost kid. Now he’d somehow hooked up with a P.I. who looked more like a sexy aerobics instructor than a private dick.

  It appeared both Kat and Ty were trying not to notice that they were attracted to each other. One thing he knew for certain was that it wouldn’t be long before his buddy was in a free fall without a parachute.

  KAT NOTICED TY didn’t feel the least bad about outrageously hinting that R.J. ought to take off a few minutes later. She wasn’t the least bit sorry to see him go, either.

  She realized Ty had noticed when he asked, “You didn’t think much of R.J., did you?”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Did you like him?”

  “I don’t even know him,” she hedged.

  “Would you want to get to know him?”

  “Where’s this going exactly?”

  “Most people really take to the guy. He’s been my best friend since we were in the Pee Wee League together.”

  “It shouldn’t matter to you what I think.”

  “It does.”

  She hadn’t warmed to R.J., but not because of anything he’d said or done. It was just that he reminded her of Justin—outgoing, the life of the party. Justin was on every minute, always making deals, chatting people up, working the room. He used his considerable charm and golden-boy image to get ahead.