Kona Winds

by Janet Dailey

"I owe you an apology, Julie," he said in a controlled, even voice. "With so many of Debbie's girl friends constantly going in and out of the house, I've always made it a rule never to become involved with them, regardless of the provocation."

  There was a constriction in her throat. "I'm not one of Debbie's girl friends," she said tightly.

  "I never become involved with any woman who works for me, directly or indirectly. I have no excuses for my action." He didn't sound remorseful. "You were so self-righteous that I kissed you the first time just to prove you were wrong. That alone was stupid and arrogant on my part."

  "And the second time?" Julie didn't know why she was asking.

  "The second time was because you were so damned passionate the first." His anger was tinged with amusement—at her.

  Julie wished she could deny it, but she was fully aware of her abandoned response. There was a proud lift to her chin as she turned to meet his gaze. His was aloof yet watchful, studying her reaction.

  "I have no excuse, either," she said. "I'm not going to try to blackmail you with this, if that's what you're thinking. I'm no more interested in having an affair with you than you are with me. This was a regrettable incident, one that I'm all in favor of forgetting."

  "My sentiment exactly," Ruel agreed.

  "If that's settled, then, I think I'll go in," she said stiffly.

  He shrugged and looked away. "There isn't anything more to keep you out here."

  "No, there isn't." And she felt sick inside.

  Her legs were trembling as she walked to the front door. Any second, she expected him to say. . . . What did she want him to say? That he loved her? No. There was undeniably a powerful physical attraction between them, but sheer chemistry was not love.

  Closing the door, she leaned weakly against it. She fully understood his reason for not wanting to let this mutual desire they had experienced become anything more. Sooner or later it would become awkward for both of them. It was sensible and logical to end it now.

  "Julie? Julie?"

  Someone was whispering her name. For a heart-stopping minute, she thought it might be Ruel, but the voice had been female and young. It was Debbie. For a second, Julie toyed with the idea of ignoring it, but that was too cowardly. Glancing briefly toward the stairs, she moved silently across the entryway to the girl's bedroom.

  "How was your date?" Debbie whispered when she appeared in the doorway.

  "It was fine," Julie answered, and immediately changed the subject. "Why aren't you asleep?"

  "I don't know. Insomnia, I guess." The indifference in her voice said Debbie was concerned. "Ruel came home the same time you did, didn't he?"

  "Yes." Julie was relieved that there was no light on.

  "He's outside, smoking a cigarette."

  "I thought I heard the two of you arguing."

  "Arguing?" Julie repeated, to stall for time. "You must have been mistaken."

  The answer seemed to satisfy Debbie. "Where did you go on your date?"

  "To a beach party." That seemed such a long time ago. So much had happened since then.

  "That must have been fun—and romantic," Debbie added suggestively.

  "It was. And it was also tiring. You may not be sleepy, but I am. I'll tell you all about it in the morning," Julie suggested.

  "Are you going to see him tomorrow?"

  See whom? Ruel? That was Julie's first thought. Then she realized Debbie meant Frank. Tomorrow was Saturday, her day off. She suddenly wondered how she was going to fill the hours. The last thing she wanted to do was think.

  "No, not tomorrow," she said. "I'll talk to you in the morning. Good night, Debbie." She slipped out of the door before Debbie could ask more questions that Julie didn't feel like answering.

  Upstairs, she lay in her bed another hour before she heard Ruel walk down the hallway to his room. Sue Ling, Debbie's nurse, had the next bedroom to Julie's. It separated her room from Ruel's. As she lay in bed, aware of her body's aching needs, the distance seemed to make the situation almost untenable.

  It wouldn't last, Julie assured herself. She would forget it.

  Chapter Seven

  A MONTH LATER, Julie was silently congratulating herself for overcoming the whole unfortunate incident so successfully. It had taken on the aspect of a dream that seemed real at the time, but had faded into a distant memory with the passage of days.

  It helped that there were so few occasions when she had to be in Ruel's company. Even during those times there was always someone around, either his aunt or Debbie, to keep any mention of the incident from cropping up. Ruel treated her in the same distant fashion that he had before it happened.

  If there were times when she looked at him and had the sudden, vivid memory of his hard mouth destroying her with its kiss or the feel of his tautly muscled body imprinting itself on hers, or the intimate caress of his hands finding the places that excited her, Julie never consciously admitted it.

  When she walked into the dining room that evening and saw Ruel seated at the head of the table, she gave him a cool smile as was her custom and took her usual chair on his left. The beat of her heart remained steady, if a trifle loud in her ears, and there wasn't the slightest tremor in her hands as she spread the linen cloth across her lap.

  "You look lovely this evening, Julie," Emily Harmon commented from across the table. "Is that caftan new? I don't recall seeing you wear it before."

  "Yes, I bought it in one of those shops at the Kuilima resort." The delicate pastel shades of yellow and pink in a Hawaiian print had caught her eye. She had purchased it during a moment of self-indulgence, knowing she should save her money.

  "The color suits you. Don't you think so, Ruel?" Emily enlisted her nephew's opinion.

  "It's very attractive," he agreed dutifully.

  "Thank you." Julie wanted to applaud herself for replying with such composure.

  "It's so good to have you with us, Julie," said Emily, the statement seeming to come out of the blue. "You've almost become one of the family since you arrived—you fit in so well."

  Without realizing it, Julie darted a glance sideways at Ruel, but he appeared not to have heard what his aunt said. Immediately she curved her mouth into a smile and directed it at the older woman.

  "It's remarkably easy with people like you," she returned the compliment to the giver.

  "I don't know why I haven't said it before, but I feel we're truly fortunate to have you to tutor Debbie," Emily added. "You were very highly recommended to us. At the time I was worried that you wouldn't be able to obtain a leave of absence from your teaching post. You were an American history teacher at the high school level, weren't you? I'm relieved they were able to find a replacement for you at such short notice."

  Somehow the conversation had never got around to what she had been doing before she came to Hawaii. They had talked of her family and her college years and of life in Boston. Julie had always presumed Emily Harmon knew she had been available for this job. Now she was at a loss as to how to correct the erroneous impression the woman had.

  "You were an American history teacher?" Ruel took up the subject as if to cover Julie's silence.

  "I . . . I majored in American history, yes," she hesitated. "But, after college, I wasn't able to find a job teaching, except for tutoring Carla Rifkin."

  Emily's soup spoon was halfway to her mouth. It stayed there for a second before she returned it to the soup bowl. Julie was uncomfortably conscious of Ruel's gaze studying her with a shrewd alertness.

  "I thought you were teaching," Emily commented.

  "I was employed as a substitute teacher," Julie explained.

  "You know how it is when you're fresh out of college—you may have the degree, but no experience."

  "What were you doing?" Ruel asked with casual interest.

  Julie directed her answer to Emily, trying not to sound defensive. "I was working as a waitress. Mrs. Grayson knew—I thought she'd told you."

  Out of the corner of h
er eye she saw the brief quirking of Ruel's mouth and resolutely kept her gaze from straying to him. Considering his arrogant attitude toward most things, he probably regarded her previous position as somehow demeaning. The thought stiffened her neck, thrusting her chin slightly forward.

  "What a deplorable waste of your education," was Emily Harmon's reaction. "With your qualifications, I should think they would have overlooked your lack of experience. I don't see why they regarded it as being so critical. Did they give you an explanation?"

  "They doubted my ability to control a classroom of high school students," Julie answered frankly.

  "Yes, especially the male members," Ruel inserted dryly.

  "Yes, especially the male members," she admitted, her jaw tightening.

  "Simply because she's young and attractive? That's unfair," protested Emily.

  "It would be unfair to the class. Julie would have to divide her energies between teaching and handling the fresh boys in the group," Ruel declared. "They would spend more time ogling her shape than attending to the subject at hand."

  "Oh, really?" Julie seethed. "You don't seem to have any difficulty repressing your desires when you're around me!"

  Their eyes clashed and locked, charging the air with a volatile tension. All pretense that either of them had forgotten the incident on the lanai was dissolved by the heat of her accusation.

  "Julie, I—" Emily Harmon's hesitant and confused voice made Julie sharply aware of what she had said and how rude it had sounded.

  "I'm sorry," she apologized, breaking the electric contact with Ruel's eyes. "But so many high school principals have made similar remarks about my looks that I've become rather sensitive about the issue. I shouldn't have lashed out like that."

  "I'm sure it's been very frustrating for you," Emily agreed. "I know Ruel understands that you didn't mean it personally."

  "Of course." Ruel quietly enforced his aunt's comment, but Julie wondered if she were the only one who heard the suppressed violence in his deadly calm tone. The telephone rang and he pushed his chair away from the table. "I'll answer it . . . it's probably the call I've been expecting. Excuse me."

  "Don't be long," Emily admonished, but received no response from Ruel as he left the room.

  From experience, Emily didn't hold up the meal for him. They were halfway through the entrée when he returned to his seat at the head of the table. Malia was there almost instantly to serve him his meal.

  "Mahimahi," Ruel identified the broiled fish on his plate. "It looks excellent, Malia."

  "It is," Emily stated, and sought confirmation from Julie. "Isn't it?"

  "It's delicious," she agreed. "Is it a tropical species?"

  "It's a dolphin," Ruel told her.

  "A dolphin?" Her eyes rounded in startled dismay.

  "Relax," he mocked. "It's the fish dolphin, not the mammal. You aren't eating Flipper."

  His baiting tone irritated her. She wondered if he were deliberately trying to rile her and pay her back for her remark. That was foolish, of course.

  "Don't tease her, Ruel," his aunt reproved. "It's a common error made by many visitors to the islands."

  But Julie didn't want to be defended by Emily. "Mahimahi is the Hawaiian name for the dolphin, then?" she asked, subtly altering the subject.

  "Yes." It was Emily who responded, as Julie expected. It started a discussion of the Hawaiian language and kept the conversation away from personal topics.

  By the end of the week, Julie found it hadn't been so easy to forget how quickly she had flared at Ruel's comment about her looks. She hadn't become as indifferent to him as she had thought; her feelings smouldered beneath the surface. It was an unsettling discovery as she had been convinced that she had pushed him from her mind and her senses.

  A car whizzed by and she stepped quickly back to avoid being splashed by the water on the road. A steady drizzle was falling, but the temperature was warm. The sunshine of the morning had been replaced by overcast skies and rain.

  Shielding her eyes from the heavy drizzle, Julie peered down the highway for a glimpse of the bus. When she'd left the house that morning, she hadn't prepared for any change in the weather, and in consequence she'd had no protection from the rain. Her hair was plastered to her head, a gleaming dark honey shade. She was almost soaked to the skin—her wet clothes clinging to her. But at least it was warm!

  There was more than half of the afternoon left. Since the weather showed little indication of improving, Julie had decided she might as well spend the rest of her Saturday back at the house writing letters. Unfortunately there was no sign of the bus. She debated whether or not to take shelter in the grocery store behind her, but she was afraid she wouldn't see the bus coming and would miss it.

  A convoy of military trucks and jeeps went by. A few of the soldiers whistled and waved when they saw her standing at the bus stop. Sighing, Julie hunched her shoulders against the light rain. The burnt red volcanic soil at her feet was turning into mud.

  The honking of a horn lifted her gaze from the ground, and the sight of a glistening black sports car slowing to a stop brought an immediate tensing of her muscles. She saw Ruel lean across and open the passenger door, his hard-bitten features looking out at her, elemental and male.

  "Get in," he ordered.

  Julie took a step backward. "I'm all wet."

  "The water will wipe off." Impatience thinned the line of his mouth. "I'm not going to beg you to ride with me. Make up your mind, I'm holding up the traffic."

  Julie glanced down the road and saw the cars lining behind him. The bus still wasn't in sight. Logic insisted that she accept his offer. After only a second's hesitation, she slid into the passenger seat and closed the door. Immediately Ruel put the car in gear and it accelerated forward.

  "Thanks for stopping." Courtesy demanded that she make some acknowledgment of his action regardless of what his motivation might have been.

  There was no response. Her face was beaded with rain water. She wiped at it with a wet hand and a handkerchief was offered her. She glanced at him as she accepted it. He faced the road, his bold profile masking any expression.

  The windshield wipers swish-swished back and forth in a hypnotic rhythm. Julie wiped her face dry with the handkerchief. The faint, tantalizing scent of his after-shave lotion clung to the linen material, a musky fragrance that seemed indicative of his obvious manhood. That wasn't something Julie wanted to notice about him, not in the close quarters of the car.

  "Are you cold? Would you like me to turn the car heater on?" Ruel asked, distantly polite.

  "No, it isn't necessary. I'm just wet." She was nervous, disturbed by his nearness and unwilling to admit it.

  His handkerchief was damp, as she wadded it into her hands and held it on her lap, reluctant to return it to him in its present sodden condition. The heavy silence between them was unnerving. Julie longed to end it, but was afraid she would begin chattering like a nervous schoolgirl. She felt irritated and wished she had waited for the bus regardless of the drizzle.

  Directly ahead of them, a shaft of sunlight pierced the clouds and created a rainbow in the sky. She tried to concentrate on the way the colors faded into each other, instead of the man behind the wheel.

  "Dammit! Will you relax?" Ruel growled savagely, and she nearly jumped out of her seat.

  "I am," she lied quickly and badly.

  "You are as nervy as a cat who's used up eight lives." His mockery was harsh and deliberately cutting.

  Julie collected her poise. "If I seem uncomfortable, it's probably because I am," she retorted. "Who wouldn't be if they were sitting around in wet clothes?"

  His gaze sliced over her, taking swift note of the way the knit material of her top damply moulded itself to the shapely roundness of her breasts. Heat coursed through her veins, warming her skin, but almost immediately his attention was back on the rain-slick highway in front of him.

  "We'll be at the house soon and you'll be able to change into some dr
y clothes." Once again his voice and expression were smooth and emotionless.

  As far as Julie was concerned, they couldn't get there soon enough. She made some meaningless comment to him and stared out of the side window. She didn't draw an easy breath until Ruel stopped the car in the circular drive in front of the house.

  "Thanks for the ride." She didn't even glance at him as she said it, pushing open the door and using the excuse of the rain to bolt into the house.

  In the entryway, she heard a trio of laughing voices from Debbie's room and guessed her girl friends were visiting her. She didn't see either Emily or Malia as she hurried up the stairs to her room.

  Stripping out of her wet clothes, she put on a short terry cloth beach jacket. She was shaking, but she didn't know whether it was from nerves or because she was chilled from her wet clothes. The first seemed the most likely. Angry with herself, she began toweling her hair dry with a roughness that hurt.

  A knock at her bedroom door brought an automatic response, "Come in."

  Julie turned as it opened. Ruel walked in and her hands ceased holding the towel. It slid from the darkly golden tangle of her long hair to settle around her neck.

  Why didn't he leave her alone, she thought wildly, and demanded, "What do you want?" Her voice was sharp to that of rudeness.

  His gaze traveled down the length of her tanned legs before meeting the challenging directness of her eyes. She had nothing on beneath the jacket, which he obviously guessed. She was grateful it came down over her hips. He was holding a small tray with a cup and saucer and teapot on its surface.

  "I asked Malia to fix you some hot tea," he answered evenly, and walked into the room to set it on the desk. "After your drenching, I thought you might like a hot drink."

  "Why all this sudden show of concern for my well being?" Julie couldn't keep the sarcasm out of her voice. "I thought you were worried about becoming involved with women who worked for you," she lashed out in frustration.

  In a single long stride Ruel was in front of her, roughly grabbing her arms. The tautness of anger was etched in his strong features. He hauled her against his chest, his grip lifting her onto her toes. His mouth was so near she couldn't breathe. Her bare legs rubbed against the smooth material of his slacks and the solidly muscled thighs they covered. His body heat seemed to envelop her. There was a deafening rush of blood in her ears as she waited for the punishment of his kiss.