by Traci Hall
“We can order dessert.” He’d take as much time to get to know her as she’d give him.
“Cute.”
He put his name in with the hostess, asking for a corner table where they could people watch and still have a conversation.
“Do you come here a lot?” she asked.
“I’ve been a couple times with the guys from the department.”
“Ah, come on, Joe. A guy like you has to have a dating life.”
“A guy like me?” He patted his chest. Television, working out the physical body, meditating for the mental part. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re cute.” She reached over to caress his biceps and the dragon tattoo he’d gotten as part of his previous life. “In great shape. Kind of funny, and so far I haven’t caught you tearing wings off of butterflies. You’re a babe magnet.”
Joe grinned. “Really? Cool.” Kay thought he was cute? He had to think about that. He’d prefer sexy, but cute was a start.
She nudged him, her brown eyes flashing with amusement. “Fess up.”
“All right. Busted. I am a serial dater with a string of women following me all over the world. When I said I worked undercover? I meant undercover.”
Kay laughed and danced forward. “I knew it.”
The hostess called Joe’s name and led them to the back of the busy restaurant and bar. The rectangle table was small, but perfect for intimate conversation. Joe nodded at the hostess. “Thanks.”
They sat, Kay on the side that faced the action, Joe on the side that faced the ocean.
“Now?” he asked. He didn’t understand anybody not liking the wide-open sea.
“After our drinks come. I need sustenance first.”
They each ordered a Guinness and Joe chose the scallops wrapped in bacon to start off. Once the foamy drafts arrived, Kay lifted her glass. “To Rita.”
He clinked his to hers. “Rita.”
Kay drank, then put her glass down. “Have you ever heard of Namaka?”
“No. I didn’t do that well in school though, so don’t take it personally.”
She traced the condensation on the thick clear glass. He liked the soft pink nail polish on her short fingernails. It matched her toes. “She’s the Hawaiian Sea Goddess. I was named after her.”
Joe drank his beer, suddenly interested in Hawaiian culture. “All I know about Hawaii is they have volcanoes and they dance the hula.” He took another drink. “I imagine everybody running around in grass skirts and coconut bras.”
“Even the men?”
“Especially the men.”
She laughed, and some of the tension eased from her shoulders.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to…”
Kay folded her napkin. “Really?”
“I think you should, though. Just to get it out.” He was dying to hear her story. Hell, all of her stories.
“Now you sound like a therapist.”
“I’m not. I’ve just been to so many that I could play one on TV.”
She leaned forward, one elbow on the table. “You spend a lot of time in therapy?”
“Yeah.” Joe shrugged, noticing the way her eyeliner shaped her oval eyes. Not Asian, but Polynesian? “I have anger issues.”
“Yeah, right.” She took a drink of her beer.
“True. But we aren’t talking about my anger issues—you were going to explain your freak out in the ocean today. You seem like a well-adjusted woman, now, but does the ocean make you crazy or something?”
“Or something.”
The scallops arrived, allowing them to each retreat for a moment before coming back out to play in the getting to know one another dance.
She speared one and popped it in her mouth. “This is delicious.”
“Can’t go wrong with bacon.” Joe couldn’t believe his luck in finding a woman who liked to eat. His previous experience with women was that they viewed food as the enemy. At least on a date. Not that this was a date. It sort of felt like one, though. Music in the background, drinks, sharing their pasts. She thought he was cute.
Kay finished chewing and sipped her beer. “Okay. I’m named after the Sea Goddess. My mother, whose name is Buttercup, just so you have a feel for who she is, decided that I should be born in the ocean water so that I had the strength of the sea in my veins.”
“Buttercup?” Joe saw that Kay was serious, so didn’t laugh. “You were born on the beach?”
“Sand, salt water, and the moonlight, with a few friends playing drums to welcome me into the world.”
Joe bowed his head to hide his smile. She sounded so mad. “I’m trying to get it, Kay, because you seem really pissed about it. But that sounds freaking awesome to me.”
“That is a popular observation from the few people I’ve shared this with.” She sat up straight rather the relaxed slouch she’d been in, and Joe realized she was no longer having fun.
He held up a hand. “Can I do that over?”
“What do you mean?” Her eyes narrowed, her pretty red mouth a thin line.
Joe exhaled. “You were born on the beach? What if something would have gone wrong? Was there a doctor nearby? A real doctor instead of a medicine man?”
Kay seemed to realize what he was doing and her shoulders dropped a bit as she chuckled. “I’m sorry. It really is upsetting to me—I can’t explain the situation without explaining my parents. My dad is a native Hawaiian. My mom a hippie born to hippies. I had zero boundaries growing up.”
“Your parents are still together, you said?” And her dad unfaithful.
“Yes. But my mom won’t divorce my dad no matter how many times he messes around.” Kay’s eyes turned hard. “She won’t protect herself.”
Huh, Joe thought. That explains quite a bit about Ms. Aneko right there. “What made you move to Chicago?”
“I wanted far away from the Pacific Ocean. Chicago has Lake Michigan, but there aren’t any deities associated with it that I know of. Besides, I stay in the city.”
Joe offered her the last scallop, which she ate with obvious delight. “Thanks.”
The waitress came and they ordered another round of beers and their burgers. Mushroom and Swiss for Kay, double bacon and cheddar for Joe.
“I normally don’t order cheese, but I’m going to have to run extra tomorrow anyway because of the beer.” She reached across the table and put her hand over his, her fingers caressing his knuckles. The simple touch went straight to his groin. “I might as well go all in, right?”
Joe liked the sound of that. A lot. He turned his hand upward so that their fingers were entwined.
*****
K hated to be a downer, but Joe kept asking questions that were depressing as hell. She did not have a golden childhood, despite what it looked like to the outside world. It was difficult to defend herself over and over to people who just didn’t get it.
Who knew Joe had all that therapy under his belt? And anger issues? She hadn’t seen him come close to losing his temper, not even when she’d regurgitated salt water on his shirt.
Instead of therapy, she’d done self-help books and psych classes through college, searching for clues in how to forgive her parents. How to get beyond the death of Paolo. It was a work in progress, as so many things were.
“When was the last time you went home?” Joe asked.
“Chicago is my home.”
“Sorry. Hawaii.”
“I grew up on this little island that you have to either fly into, or take a ferry to. Molokai.”
“Was it claustrophobic?”
“No. There was a strong sense of community, which probably helped save me, in hind sight. I mean, I had the freedom to wander the entire island from the time I could walk. It was good that Pa,” she swallowed hard, “people watched out over me. They knew my mom. Dad. They understood.”
“Did you feel like you were part of the ocean, being born in it?”
“My mom tried to sell me on t
hat line of garbage.” It had worked, too—until the freak storm came and capsized the canoe she and Paolo had taken out to the bay. “Fate, destiny. Mom believes we are all connected by the water.”
“A lot of people do.”
K blinked back unwanted moisture from her eyes. She’d believed it too. Once. “No. We make our own way in this world. I was born in a place where I had to survive my childhood. Once I graduated, I was gone. I never fit with them. I liked the structure of school.” She shrugged. “I knew if I showed up early, I could have breakfast. If I got good grades, there were rewards from the teachers. I got a scholarship to University of Chicago. Being poor didn’t matter because everybody on that island was eking out a living from the land. It could be done, but it was hard. Really hard when your parents preferred smoking dope to working.”
Joe nodded, his green-gold eyes filled with empathy and compassion.
“Someone very close to me was taken, and when I asked my parents for help, my mother told me to pray to Namaka. That she was my guardian. Mother of us all,” K said, her voice cracking. She cleared her throat and drained her beer. “Yet that bitch took Paolo from me without a single reason why.”
“Paolo? Boyfriend?”
“He was everything to me. From preschool on.” K clenched her jaw. Damn, why was this coming up now? “Without him…”
Joe waited for a while, allowing her to move through her grief. “What happened?”
“A storm came in. Brought us out from the bay where we were whale watching, to the sea. Our canoe tipped.” Her heart ached, then eased at the retelling. As if Paolo wanted to be remembered here, when she’d tried so hard to forget him.
K took small breaths of air through her nose to calm her nerves. “Never mind about him. Anyway, you asked why I hate the ocean. Now you know.”
Joe squeezed her hand, not letting go. “Do you believe in the gods and goddesses in the Hawaiian tradition?”
“I was raised that way. I’ve turned my back on it all. I never got the comfort from it my family did.”
“I’m sorry about your friend. It’s no wonder you’re such a strong woman.”
K laughed and pulled her hand free. “Ah, Joe. Don’t go analyzing me, okay? I made it. I’m doing what I love.”
“Fighting for justice in designer heels?”
She sat back and shook her head, allowing a small smile. Damn, but he was amusing. Two beers. Should she have another? He was really hot, his tattoos a story begging to be told. If she had a third beer, she just might take him back to Rita’s and make them both feel better.
He could tell her about his tattoos, she could kiss her way across his broad shoulders, down his back to his hips and fine ass.
Their burgers arrived and K decided to get that third drink. The food would sop up some of the alcohol. Maybe her good sense would have a chance over her hormones. But what was the harm in indulging in some mutual pleasure?
No strings attached. He lived here, she lived in Chicago. They could have guilt-free incredible, hot sex and then go their separate ways.
Chapter Six
K managed to eat half her burger and more than half of the delicious seasoned fries. She sat back, her hand on her stomach. “That was an awesome meal.”
“You’re done?”
“Can’t eat another bite without exploding. Not an attractive sight.”
“You’re gorgeous,” Joe said. “Go ahead and risk it for another fry.”
“Nope.” She didn’t want their evening to end just yet, so she scooted her chair close to the table and locked gazes with Joe. “So, you put me through twenty questions. Now it’s your turn.”
Joe leaned toward her. “Fair enough. Fire away.”
“We can start small. Place of birth?”
“Boston Memorial. Boring. Especially compared to a drum ceremony beneath the moon on an island.”
“Normal. You had normal.”
He smiled, his hazel eyes more green than gold in the dim light of the restaurant. “My parents both worked. Dad was a cop, Mom a nurse. I was left to my own devices and chose poorly. By sixteen, I’d gotten busted for petty theft.”
She admired that he owned his decisions. So many people blamed others rather than take responsibility.
“Dad gave me a choice. I could work at the department and see what the life of being a criminal was all about, or I could go to military school. But either way, my ass was learning right from wrong, he said.”
K drummed her fingers across the table. “You got the structure I craved.”
“In spades. But that’s how I knew I wanted to be a cop. A lot of shit goes down in high school, and I knew I could ferret out vital information. I mean, I looked even more like a baby face then than I do now.”
K laughed, imagining Joe as a teenager. Tall, scrawny. He’d filled out now in all the best ways.
“I busted a lot of rings. I passed for a senior in high school until I hit 25.”
“You’re kidding. That long? You have to explain what perpetual high school was like.” She’d loved school, as a means to an end. She had Paolo and didn’t need a lot of friends. When he was gone she buried herself in studies.
“As drama-filled as it sounds. Emotions are so high when we’re that young, and then you add dope and alcohol and sex? The worst part was seeing bad shit happen and being powerless to stop it, because I couldn’t break character.” He shredded the paper napkin his drink sat on.
“That would be tough. Is that why you’re into so much therapy?”
“No.” He emptied his beer and looked at the dregs. “Therapy came into play when a bust went bad, and I was almost killed.”
K got chills up and down her spine. “Drugs?”
“Of course.” He stared into the empty glass, his voice hollow.
She waited, uncertain. Did she push, or change the subject? He looked anguished, as if, like her, he needed to purge a few memories.
“When did this happen?” she asked in soft tones.
“Over a year ago.”
“You couldn’t pass for a high school kid. Were you a teacher?”
“God no. I can’t spell for shit.”
She smiled.
“No, I was in college, playing the ultimate party animal. I was the man with the connections. The man on the scene. I supplied the kids with whatever they wanted. We were searching for the kingpin of a ring that had been selling tainted XTC. Kids were dying, suffering terrible hallucinations. Most deaths were caused by suicide of the victim trying to get the demons out of their head. One guy literally tore out his eyeballs.”
“That’s terrible.” She felt sick to her stomach at the image. “And you supplied this?”
He flinched, and she regretted her harsh question. “That’s how we traced the asshole. I got hold of some bad shit. We set up an elaborate sting, and one of the kids I’d befriended was killed. In the end, we closed them down, but the price was high.”
His voice trailed off, and K closed her eyes, offering him compassion. She pushed back from the table and got up, going around to give him a hug. “Thank you. I can only imagine the sacrifice you’ve made. Keeping drugs out of schools is important. Keeping the kids safe.”
He leaned into her for a moment before yanking her down in his lap. “Therapy. Department mandated. Anger management. When I found out that my friend was murdered, I lost my shit.”
She leaned her forehead against his. “Understandable. I, Karma Namaka Aneko, Esquire, understand. You’ve seen me lose my cool. The first person in my adult life to witness a break down. You’re a hero.”
“No. I’m not.” He closed his arms around her waist, holding her tight. “I’m just a guy. I like to shoot shit. Fish. Drink beer. Watch hockey.” He breathed out, his warmth tickling below her ear.
She shivered. “Sex?”
He shifted her on his lap and she sighed. Yes. He was into sex.
“You are hot as hell, you know that?”
She let her body rest against h
is, knowing he was strong enough to hold her. No courtroom clerk, Joe had muscles he honed on a daily basis. “You think? I was Miss Pineapple in high school.”
He laughed into her hair.
“It’s true. In order to get my scholarship, I had to participate in school activities. So I picked photography club, and somehow my picture caught the attention of the float directors and I was asked to be a pineapple.” She giggled at the memory. “I wore a pink bow in my hair and everything.”
“What color was your hair?”
“You don’t believe this is my natural color?”
Joe leaned back so he could look her in the eye. “No. It’s sexy, and I like it, but I don’t believe you were born with bleached hair.”
“Who knows what my mom was smoking? It could happen.” She sighed. “All right. I am actually Barbie Blonde and I dyed my hair brown for years to get rid of the stigma. But when I was in law school, I watched who won cases. I knew my targeted clientele—women who needed justice—and I knew I never wanted to be poor again. So? I sought rich women as clients, which meant I had to look the part.”
“Good strategy, K.”
“I thought so.” Now, to hope it pays off…
“Besides Paolo, are there any other boyfriends? Husbands in your past?”
“Nope. No time.” She took a drink of water that had sat so long the ice melted. “No interest.”
“You’re supposed to tell the truth, K.”
She squirmed and got off of his lap to sit in her own chair again. She missed his warmth immediately, but if they were still playing twenty questions, she needed to be able to breathe without thinking of sex. Of him.
“It is the truth. After Paolo, I went into self-protect mode.” She hadn’t let herself feel much of anything. “A few dates, but nothing that went anywhere. I interned at a prestigious law firm where the youngest partner wanted to screw me. I said no.”
“So, what happened with him?”
“I didn’t get the job I was promised.” Her belly rolled, but she took another sip of water, preferring to look at Joe and his brilliant eyes. They changed all of the time. A girl would never get bored looking into those eyes.
