by Meryl Sawyer
Keke tsked. “Looks aren’t everything. Beautiful women are often conceited and looking for a rich husband. Better watch out. Playing hard-to-get is the oldest trick in the book.”
“Mommie! Mommie!” screeched Keke’s youngest. “Watch!”
“I’m watching.”
The three-year-old leaped over an incoming wave that was six inches high at most.
Keke clapped, and yelled, “Very good.”
“Way to go,” Chad shouted.
He waited until he had Keke’s attention again. “I don’t think Devon is playing a game. I usually have a sixth sense about women from living all those years with you three.”
Keke giggled. “Well, you should. Remember the time you had Eddie and the guys to the house for a sleepover? We put all our panties and bras in your room so the guys would think you were gay or a pervert.”
“You’re lucky I didn’t strangle you.”
“Mom stopped you. Otherwise I wouldn’t be here today.”
They both were silent for a moment. Chad was positive his sister was thinking the same thing he was. Their parents should be here today, celebrating their granddaughter’s birthday, but they both had died, his father in an auto accident and his mother two years later of ovarian cancer.
“About this Devon person. Think of hyenas.”
Chad groaned. Keke adored animals. Every time she could, she made a point with an example from the animal kingdom.
“Despite what people think about the law of the jungle, male hyenas who are too aggressive and try to dominate the females, don’t father as many pups as those who make friends before mating.”
“I guess I do come on too strong sometimes, but it always seems to work.”
“And we sisters—the fab three—have always warned you that some women don’t like it, especially if she’s had a bad experience with a man.”
The stupidity of allowing a brief encounter with a stranger to bug him like this made him groan inwardly. Aw, hell, he didn’t know what to think. Since his first sexual experience at fourteen, he’d called the shots in his relationships with women.
Sure, a few had blown him off. It hadn’t bothered him, but Devon had managed to get to him, Chad realized, perplexing emotions coursing through him.
Why her?
SHELBY SOMETHING—an unpronounceable Hawaiian last name that Devon couldn’t say let alone remember—gushed wedding trivia nonstop from the office to the posh residential area near Diamondhead.
“Why do brides wear something blue?” Shelby had asked, then immediately answered her own question. “It symbolizes faithfulness.”
“Who, like, thought of wedding cakes? They began in England in the Middle Ages. People would bring small cakes to weddings. They would, like, pile them up high. Soon people frosted them, like together. Get it? The tiered wedding cake.”
Devon had smiled indulgently. Surely, if Shelby could remember so much trivia, the girl could be a bigger help with the details of wedding planning. No such luck. Shelby was content to be an airhead.
Devon had come in early, prepared to give Chad Langston the brush-off. She’d worked all morning and had made a lot of headway with the three upcoming weddings, thanks to her crash course on the Internet. Chad hadn’t dropped by the office, even though Eddie was in and scheduling party boat cruises in a voice so loud that it was difficult to concentrate.
“Mostly we, like, do fab weddings on Eddie’s yachts,” Shelby explained for the second time, “but occasionally we get a request for a private home. You know, an awesome place with an ocean view like the mansion we’re using Sunday evening.”
Devon nodded, resisting the urge to say anything. Shelby had an overly friendly attitude, like a puppy who wanted its master’s attention. She didn’t want to encourage the girl to become too friendly.
She feigned interest in what was known as the Gold Coast. It ran along the shore east of Diamond Head along Kahala Beach. Most of the elegant homes were behind custom-made gates. Occasionally she caught a glimpse of lushly planted grounds.
Devon hadn’t expected to fall in love with Hawaii, but from the moment she’d stepped off the plane, she was greeted by a sky so blue, so clear it made her heart soar and momentarily forget her problems. Diamond Head stood nobly in the distance, burnished purple by the angle of the sun. The heady scent of plumeria mingled with the loamy smell of the tropics and the bracing scent of the sea.
I’m going to love it here, she’d thought.
Shelby drove her Honda through a set of open stainless gates flanked by towering, stately royal palms. In the center of the enormous circular courtyard was a huge bronze dolphin spouting water into a reflecting pool. The modern home had a curved wall of glass to view Diamondhead and the ocean.
Devon tuned out Shelby as they left the car and rang the doorbell next to towering stainless-steel doors etched with a wave pattern. She noticed how the contemporary lines of the home had been softened by banks of ferns and brilliant pink bougainvillea.
A barefoot, shirtless guy in his early twenties answered the door. His spiked hair was bleached a blinding white by the sun. His skin was as bronze as the dolphin in the courtyard.
“Hi, Rory. Aren’t you, like, surfing today?” gushed Shelby.
From the looks of the home, Devon had expected a house-boy in some sort of outfit. But the rich were different. Apparently this was the owner’s son.
“I surfed already. I was up at the Pipeline before dawn.”
“Getting ready for the contest?” she asked in a breathy voice.
“Right.”
Shelby turned to Devon. “Rory’s surfing in the Rip Curl Cup. The winner, like, gets two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”
“Wow!” Devon hadn’t realized there was so much money in surfing.
Rory pointed in the direction of an infinity pool visible off to the side. “He’s out there.”
Rory disappeared around a corner, and Devon followed Shelby through the dramatic black marble foyer where a dust mote would have had the good sense not to land on the pristine floor. They walked through a living room the size of a hotel lobby. What must be glass doors disappeared into the walls so the room naturally flowed outside.
“Ahoy, there,” Shelby called to the man on a plush chaise lounge with its back to them.
Ahoy? Sheesh, but this girl acted embarrassingly young. Devon wondered how she’d landed the job as the coordinator’s assistant. Obviously she wasn’t capable of taking over the coordinator position or Eddie would have promoted her.
“Ahoy? Shelby, you need to learn to be more professional,” called the man.
Oh, my God! Chad Langston. What was he doing here? Sunning himself obviously and toying with a handheld video game or perhaps a GPS.
Could this be his home? The Crockett Building was a modest office complex. It didn’t seem to be the type of place where a person who owned this mansion would have an office.
“I’m more professional, like, every day. Right now, I’m showing the new wedding coordinator around. Have you met Dev—”
“We met yesterday.” Chad deliberately glanced at her for only a split second, then turned his attention to Shelby.
He told Shelby, “Get Devon up to speed so the wedding on Saturday goes smoothly. I’m here if you need me.”
He settled back in his chair, pretending to be more interested in the gadget than her. No way was he going to hit on Devon. Let her come to him, he’d decided after his talk with Keke.
Devon told herself she wanted Chad to leave her alone, but a twinge of disappointment rippled through her. She tamped down the feeling, upset with the sensations he aroused in her.
Shelby led her across a broad sweep of diachondra that gradually dropped down to the water where a group of chaise lounges had been placed along the shore. Like holiday bunting, garlands of seaweed decorated the beach, a gift of the retreating tide. At the far end of the grounds was a lagoon where a black swan was swimming, barely rippling the water.
<
br /> Now they were far enough away from Chad for Devon to question Shelby. “Is this Chad’s place?”
Shelby nodded and her dark hair fluttered across her shoulders. “Totally awesome, isn’t it?”
“Totally. What does Chad do?” She perched her sunglasses on top of her head.
“He owns lots of scuba diving shops and dive boats on, like, all the islands.” Shelby stepped closer and her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, “I’ve heard Eddie say Chad’s real money comes from underwater spying.”
“Spying? On whom?” Devon pretended to be consulting her notes in case Chad was watching.
“Like dead people. He goes underwater and looks for evidence. The family hired him in the Laci Peterson case.”
“Not spying. That’s underwater forensics.”
“Whatever.”
Fascinating, she thought. He would be an interesting man to get to know, but she didn’t dare.
From the chaise, Chad watched Devon, his eyes scanning each feature of her face. None was particularly remarkable but together, they were a stunning combination. She was pretty in an exotic cat-eyed way. Okay, he’d dated more beautiful women, but there was something about Devon, something elusive that called to him. He wanted her, plain and simple.
Be a hyena. Keke’s advice reverberated in his head. Be a friend first. See where that goes. Could be, if he came to know Devon, he wouldn’t like her.
Fat chance.
Her blond hair rippled across her shoulders as she studied a piece of paper. A full, pouty lower lip glistened with a hint of gloss. He’d noticed her mouth yesterday. Since then all he could think about was kissing her.
Devon consulted the printout in earnest, saying to Shelby, “Lori’s computer notes indicate about two hundred people are expected for the wedding. Where are we going to hold the service?”
“Here on the grass.”
Devon scanned the grass and silently cursed herself for taking this job. Her Internet searches had turned up valuable information, but estimating how many chairs would fit on this lawn wasn’t among them. It didn’t appear to be room for two hundred chairs plus an aisle and a place for the minister to perform the service.
“Are you sure? Were you with Lori when she spoke with the couple?”
“Well, no, but it’s an awesome spot. We’ve, like, had two other weddings on the lawn.”
Devon considered asking Chad, but being near him was too risky. She flipped open her cell phone and dialed Eddie. “I’m out at Chad Langston’s place. Do you know if the wedding is supposed to take place on the lawn? It doesn’t look big enough.”
“I have no idea. Isn’t it in Lori’s notes?”
“No.”
“All I remember her mentioning was the ten thousand red rose petals.”
“Rose petals?” She scanned the printout. Oh, my God! With two other weddings coming up, she hadn’t noticed. No flowers had been ordered at all.
“The petals will cover the lagoon. We grow roses in Hawaii, sure, but most are flown in.”
Eddie didn’t sound terribly concerned, an attitude typical of many Hawaiians Devon had met. It took a disaster to fluster them.
“Eddie, if any flowers were ordered, even the bridal bouquet, Lori didn’t make a note of it.”
“I’ll try to reach Lori in Kaui. If Chad’s around, ask him where the service is being held.”
“I will.” She said goodbye and snapped her cell phone shut. “Do you know if any flowers have been ordered for this wedding?” she asked Shelby. The last thing she wanted to do was talk to Chad.
Shelby shook her head.
Devon read the printout more closely. A caterer had been hired, thank heavens. Something weird had been written on the music line.
“Is there a band called Bite Me?”
“They are, like, the best band in the islands.”
Who would have thought? “I guess we’ll have to see if Chad knows where the service will be held. Then we need to get back to the office and jump on the flower order.”
Devon put on her sunglasses and marched across the grass toward Chad. His long, tanned legs were dusted with sun bleached hair. Obviously he spent a lot of time outdoors. It gave him the appearance of a surfer.
She’d always gone for smart men, not jocks. But Chad seemed to be an exception. Every time she was around him, the pull was stronger.
Chad kept tinkering with the gadget and didn’t look up although he heard Shelby chattering as they approached. Devon was wearing a pale yellow sundress that hugged the lines of her slim body and emphasized the swell of her breasts. He imagined her stepping out of it and into his arms.
Get a grip!
Devon noticed Chad’s still wet Hawaiian print swimming trunks. They hung low on his slim hips and molded his powerful thighs. From behind her sunglasses, Devon observed his torso and noted the hard planes of his chest and the defined contours of his arms. He was buff but not overly pumped the way some guys were. A skein of hair trailed down his chest and disappeared under the waistband of his trunks.
Her eyes dropped to his powerful thighs. At their apex, she couldn’t help observing the masculine bulge barely concealed by the fabric. Nice package, she thought before she could stop herself.
No telling what he might try in bed, she decided. He had the looks and the money and the personality to attract any woman he wanted. No doubt, he’d had plenty of experience.
Plus he had charm in spades—just like Tyler.
“Excuse me, Chad. We’re wondering if you know where the service is being held? On the lawn?”
Chad pushed his shades to the top of his head and looked up. His blue eyes flickered with amusement as if he got a kick out of life. Their gazes met and a sharp, unexpected jolt of excitement hit her.
“There isn’t enough room out here. They’re using the living room.”
“Great. Thanks.” She started to walk away, but stopped and asked, “What are you doing with the furniture?”
“Lori hired a moving company to pick up the stuff and store it. That’s why I’m hanging around. They’re supposed to be picking up the furniture this morning.”
She groaned. “Bite me.”
“Where?” Chad asked.
“She’s talking about the band,” Shelby said.
“No. I said it to avoid a four-letter word. I have this bad feeling that Lori didn’t order a lot of things, including furniture removal.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
IT WAS JUST AFTER FOUR that afternoon when Chad arrived at his office. He’d spent the afternoon testing the DARPA’s latest widget. He’d already had the Defense Department’s Advanced Research Agency’s gadget for over three months, but Danson had insisted on a six month test in all types of weather conditions and varying terrain. It had a few kinks, but, so far nothing major.
The device was impressive. The damn thing would revolutionize surveillance. He’d been sitting in the blinding sun, wearing shades, and on an uplink to the DoD satellite when Devon and Shelby had arrived. He had been tracking movements of large groups of men coming over the border of Pakistan into Afghanistan.
As soon as Devon and Shelby had left, he’d driven to a pay phone and notified Danson. Chad couldn’t resist asking about the leak. Danson hadn’t found out who in the DoD was leaking top secret information, but he assured Chad that his best agent was zeroing in on a promising lead.
“Anything important going on?” Chad asked his assistant as he walked into his office.
“I would have called you on your cell,” Ane replied without taking her eyes off the computer screen.
Ane Sephuhu was a beefy woman who could trace her ancestors back to King Kamehameha. The Nippon Bank had laid off Ane, a widow on the dark side of fifty, after nearly thirty years of service. She hadn’t been able to find another job because of her age and her weight. Chad had interviewed her and had been impressed. For the last five years, she’d handled the work of three people.
“You need to take a look
at the invoice I’m sending Fidelity Insurance for the Townsend case.”
Chad reluctantly took the papers from Ane’s extended hand. He’d spent a full week in Turks and Caicos, where he’d discovered Robert Townsend IV’s death hadn’t been a simple drowning. Townsend’s own bang stick, a weapon divers used to kill an attacking shark, had punctured his air hose. Why Townsend hadn’t waded to shore was a mystery, but Chad had a theory.
After interviewing the wife and the stud who was captain of Townsend’s yacht, Chad had the distinct impression the two of them had iced the old guy. Chad had spent extra days trying to prove it. There was no forensic evidence, but the angle at which the bang gun had hit was a bit odd. He’d sent Townsend’s dive gear to the FBI for trajectory analysis. He’d also suggested the insurance company put a tail on the sexpot the old dude had married to see if she was having an affair with the ship’s captain.
He signed the invoice and wished he could have solved the case. Aw, hell, that’s pure ego talking. He’d solved numerous cases, but no one could solve all of them. Still, he hated to see anyone get away with murder.
“Don’t worry,” Ane said. “The case will be solved.”
“I doubt it. Even if the FBI proves Townsend couldn’t have accidentally fired his bang stick, there’s nothing to link his wife to the crime. She has a perfect alibi. The captain says she was on the yacht all afternoon and the two crew members confirm it.”
Chad went over to his desk, booted up his computer and scrolled through his e-mail. Nothing interesting.
“You might want to check on Eddie,” Ane told him. “I heard him screaming something about not renting linens.”
Chad shook his head. Lori had really dropped the ball with this one. Devon had four days to pull this together. Not much time, considering most weddings were planned a year in advance.
He remembered Devon saying Bite me. Even in a crisis, she had a sense of humor. He would have bitten her—not a mean bite but a playful nip—anywhere on that sexy bod.
He tried not to think about her too often, but he had a helluva time getting one image out of his stupid gourd. Devon naked and on her back, her hair fanned across his pillow, a happy smile on her face for a change instead of her shuttered, distant expression.