by Cathryn Cade
Opening his eyes, he saw streaks of red in the soapy water swirling on the beige tiled floor of the shower. He was still bleeding. To contain the damage, he wrung out his washcloth and held it gingerly to his head while he dried off one-handed with a fluffy peach towel. Then he managed to get the damp towel around his waist and, by dint of holding on to the walls and the bathroom counter, made it to the nearest seat, the toilet, and more or less collapsed on it.
Propping his elbows on his knees, he held his pounding head and waited for her.
Chapter Eight
Recipe for desire—take one Hawaiian hunk, peel. Wash thoroughly and dry with soft towel.
When Malu stopped in the door of her bathroom and dropped his swim trunks, Melia stared, her breath frozen in her throat. Dirt, blood, none of it mattered—he was spectacular. His broad back narrowed into gorgeous, tight buns and heavy thighs roped with muscle, a slightly paler gold than the rest of him. And he apparently didn’t care if she saw it all.
Fighting the sudden temptation to follow him right into the bathroom and find out what the front half looked like, she turned on her heel and hurried out of the bedroom. No longer chilled, now she felt too hot, her skin damp. And it wasn’t just the closeness of the air. Whoa, the man was dangerous in more ways than one.
From the lanai, she watched as the catamaran eased away from the dock, turned and moved out across the little harbor. Leilani waved, her black ponytail flying out like a banner, and Melia waved back, digging her toes into the soft leather of her sandals to keep herself from dashing down to the dock and begging them to take her and Malu with them.
The boat eased through the gap in the coral reef and picked up speed, the twin wakes white. Whitecaps rose outside the bay, but the big cat rode them lightly. The striped sails rippled, bright against the heavy clouds, now nearly black with rain. As they disappeared behind the palms swaying on the point, thunder rumbled sullenly in the distance.
Melia looked around her uneasily at the sloping lawn rimmed by plumeria and hibiscus nodding in the rising breeze. She and Malu were alone here—except perhaps for the “friends” of Dane’s that Frank had mentioned.
Nothing moved but the shrubbery. The only sound was the rustle of palm leaves and the waves on the little beach. Still, even the pistol in her hand didn’t relieve her uneasiness. She might know how to use it, but that didn’t mean she wanted to have to. She really didn’t get why he’d wanted to remain here, or why he wanted her with him. The catamaran seemed to her plenty big enough to carry them all safely back.
Well, they were here now, and the biggest protection they had was the house. If anyone wanted to get in, they’d have to break in. Hurrying inside, Melia locked the front door behind her, as well as the two long windows on either side. Then she ran into the sitting room and did the same, her heart pounding, limbs shaky with adrenaline. The kitchen and office secured, she hurried into the bedroom Jacquie had used, then Cherie’s. By the time she got back to her own room, she was panting, and damp with perspiration. As she reached for the sturdy shutters on the window, she stared at the blood and dirt streaking the broad windowsill and the woven mat on the floor. Malu’s blood.
Good grief, she felt a long way from the woman who’d sent cheerful text messages to her friends. What would be appropriate now? N dangr, Haw’in hunk bleedg. Ples snd help!
She took a deep breath and closed the shutter, pushing on the bent fastener as hard as she could. Even injured, Malu was a bulwark of strength, and he knew this area. She’d listened to him discussing hiking trails with Frank and realized he must have spent lots of time in the Kau forest preserve.
Realizing that she was shaky partly because she hadn’t had anything to eat or drink since the coffee early that morning, Melia turned toward the kitchen. She hesitated in the bedroom doorway. She shouldn’t leave Malu alone too long. What if he fell in the shower? Head injuries were tricky. She also admitted to herself ruefully that she could hardly wait to see him clad only in a towel. Even though she was seriously pissed at him, she could still enjoy the view.
Ironic that the man with whom she was alone in this remote paradise wasn’t really interested in her. Which was good, she told herself sternly, because even if he was a hero, she wouldn’t have anything to do with a guy who’d probably slept with half the female tourists on the island.
She stopped in the kitchen and took a cold Coke from the refrigerator, then grabbed another can for Malu. He could probably use both the sugar and the caffeine.
She collected the capacious first-aid kit from the cupboard and took everything back to her room. She could do this.
The shower was off, but Malu was nowhere in sight. Her heart pounding, Melia rushed into the bathroom, afraid she would find him lying on the floor. She blew out a shaky breath of relief. He sat on the closed toilet, a towel wrapped around his hips, elbows on his knees, holding a wadded-up washcloth to his bowed head. The dried blood and dirt that had streaked his handsome face were gone. His short black hair was damp and tousled.
A small shape darted across the wall just behind him. Another of his little gecko friends. It crept into the beveled frame on the small orchid painting there and settled, watching.
Malu was supporting his head as if he had a volcano-sized headache. Setting the first-aid kit on the counter, she opened it and found a small bottle of pain reliever. “Here, take these.”
He held out his hand without lifting his head. Popping the tab, she handed him the pills and then a Coke. He took the pills, then tipped back his head and drank thirstily, eyes closed. His throat worked as a stray drop of water trickled down, down, over his smooth, broad chest, past one small brown nipple.
Melia stared. Damp and clean, his golden skin gleaming in the soft lamplight, he was a beautiful male animal. His arms and legs were thick with muscle. The broad, sculpted swell of his chest was smooth, and only fine hair dusted his legs and forearms. A narrow black trail of hair arrowed down from his navel, disappearing under the white towel.
She’d seen him in swim trunks for two days, but there was something about the intimacy of the small bathroom that sent heat arrowing down through her middle to pool deep in her belly and tightened her nipples. Ready for him. And now they were alone here together.
He drank the entire soda without stopping. “Ah, that was good.” He sighed. “Mahalo.”
As he lowered his arm, she snapped her gaze back up and found him watching her. Was that amusement lurking in his gaze? Tossing her hair back to cover her embarrassment at being caught, Melia looked away and saw her reflection in the steamy mirror.
For something to do, she adjusted the strap of her sundress more comfortably around her neck.
She took another drink of her soda and set it down. “Okay, I need to look at your wound.”
“Shower started it bleeding again,” he said.
“You shouldn’t have showered until I bandaged it.”
To her surprise, he grinned lopsidedly. “Yes, I should, wahine. I stank. Besides, I got the dirt and dried blood out of it. Few bugs too.”
Melia shuddered at the thought of insects crawling on him. The Hawaiian rain forests had no snakes, but there were other creepy crawlies in the lush vegetation.
His injury was on the far side of his head, so she had to inch past him in the small space left by the toilet, the washstand and his long legs. He moved with her so she ended up standing between his legs. She could feel the heat coming off his body, smell the faint flowery soap on his skin, mixed with his essential male scent. He certainly didn’t stink now—she wanted to bury her nose in the strong curve of his throat, and inhale until she was drunk on him. She also wanted to nudge aside that towel.
Forcing her thoughts away from his genitalia, she moved his hand aside, and peered under the washcloth at his wound. She sucked in her breath, wincing. A livid bruise marred his temple, his eye was swollen nearly shut, his high cheekbone puffy. In the center of the bruise, a jagged cut still oozed blood.
&n
bsp; “What did he hit you with?” she asked. Without thinking, she cupped his face in her hands, tipping his head to one side to better see his injury.
“Ohia branch,” he murmured, his breath hot against her wrist. His lashes swept down, thick, dark crescents against the skin stretched over his high cheekbones. “Hard wood—they used to export it to make railroad ties. Knocked me out cold.”
“You’re lucky it didn’t crack your skull,” she retorted. Then her stomach lurched. What if his skull was fractured? Oh, why had she and Frank let him remain here, especially with only her as a nurse?
“It’s not,” he grunted. “I checked.”
“I don’t even want to know how,” she muttered, carefully pushing back his wet hair with her fingertips.
She jumped when his powerful hand closed on her hip, squeezing her through the thin layer of sundress. “I’m sorry.”
“’S all right,” he said, his deep voice strained. “Do what you have to.”
Melia turned to the first-aid kit. She took out gauze and bandages and antibiotic ointment, then turned back to apply them. The wet washcloth landed on her bare foot as his other hand grasped her hip. As she worked, he stayed perfectly still, his eyes closed, his hands working on the soft fullness of her hips. Distracting himself, she supposed. It was certainly distracting her.
They were in a position of extreme intimacy, his hands on her hips, his face poised near her breasts. She could feel his breath through her sundress, warm and moist, feel the heat coming off his big body. Pursing her lips firmly, she concentrated on what she was doing. She used the small butterfly bandage to pull the edges of the cut together. Dabbing ointment around the wound, she then covered it with gauze, placed the bigger bandage carefully over it and pressed the adhesive down. He would lose some hair when he took it off, but she was really not up to shaving a patch of his skull.
Her patient sat very still, but his hands slipped farther around her, to cup her bottom and shape the full globes. Melia’s knees weakened as pleasure, sly and teasing, bloomed under his touch.
“Okay,” she said. “All done.” Damn, her voice sounded breathy. She tried again. “Malu, you can let go now. You probably need to lie down.”
Very slowly, he tipped his head back and looked up at her. The power of his dark gaze so close, was immense, even with one of his eyes swollen nearly shut. Her own head tipped instinctively to meet his, her hair sliding over her shoulder to veil them both in strands of variegated blonde.
“I do need to lie down,” he agreed huskily. “With you.”
His hands spreading on her ass, he pulled her closer, into the powerful vee of his thighs. His heat burned through her sundress. Her hands settled lightly on his shoulders, and she spread her fingers, unable to resist enjoying the hot, damp silk of his skin, the powerful muscles under her palms. No wonder women hung on him like ornaments—he was good.
“Yeah, funny how that works. You want me…now that I’m the only female around.” She shoved at his big shoulders. It was like pushing a lava boulder. “Now get your hands off my ass. I may have to nurse you, but I don’t have to put up with your bullshit.”
His mouth curved up in a lopsided grin. “Damn. I knew you were gonna be trouble.”
Instead of letting her go, he bent his head toward her, his hands holding her there. He seemed to be studying her arm.
“What are you doing?” she asked just as he dipped his head. She felt a light, hot, silken caress on her skin. She jumped. “Oh! You—you licked me,” she accused, astonished.
He let her go, his tongue running over his bottom lip. “Tasted you.”
“Well, well—why?” Her skin tingled where he’d touched her. She felt as rattled as if he’d done much more.
“To see if those little kiko are as sweet as brown sugar.” He regarded her, the devil in his dark eyes. “They are.”
He liked her freckles. She stumbled backward, rubbing her arm. As she freed herself from his entrancing nearness, anger replaced her desire. “I’m trouble? You’re the one who flirts with every other woman in sight, then has the nerve to put your moves on me as soon as they’re gone!”
He rose, holding on to the towel with one hand, the other braced on the counter. Looming over her, he seemed to take up most of the space in the bathroom.
“Pupule,” he chided. “They were easy to flirt with because they don’t mean a thing. Just pretty wahines, here today, gone tomorrow. You’re different.”
“Huh,” she snorted. A small, treacherous part of her wanted to believe him, but she knew better. She meant nothing to him but a willing nurse and a warm body. “Pupule—what does that mean?” Frank had called her that too.
Malu’s good eye crinkled at the corner. “It means…extremely clever.”
“Does not. You’re so full of it.” She tossed her head, flipping her hair back over her shoulders.
As his pretty little blonde turned her back on him, Malu sighed inwardly.
“Ah, Melia?”
She turned in the doorway, her lips pursed. A look no doubt meant to quell him, but which had the perverse effect of making him want to kiss those lips, soften them until they parted and moaned his name.
But not now. He needed her help and her trust. “One more thing. My back.”
He let go of the counter to turn and show her. The room spun around him again.
She let out a squeak of alarm. “David Ho’omalu, do not keel over on me now. Come on, let’s get you on the bed.”
Her slender shoulder wedged under his armpit, she put her arms around him, and guided him to her bed, waiting until he got one knee on the mattress, then supporting him as he lay down on his stomach. He subsided with a groan, the uninjured side of his face on the pillow. Ah, Pele, horizontal at last, and this time on a soft, clean quilt that smelled faintly of her.
“You’re all scratched,” she exclaimed. “I didn’t see them earlier—they must have been covered with blood and dirt.”
He shivered, wishing desperately that she would lie on him, let him soak in her sweet, feminine heat. But, instead, she slipped off the bed. “I’ll be right back—there’s cream in the first-aid kit.”
She was back in a moment, her weight settling at his side on the bed, her knees pressing gently against his ribs. Then she let out a yelp, and the bed jerked as she started.
“Oh! For heaven’s sake. Those geckoes are everywhere—one just ran right under your arm. They certainly seem to like you.”
She settled again, her fingers resting on his back, warm and gentle as rain. “How did this happen?”
“After Gifford knocked me out, he rolled me over the embankment,” he mumbled into the pillow. “Had to get me out of sight.”
“You mean you were nearby when they found Cherie, and they didn’t see you?” She began to dab ointment lightly. It stung, but still her touch made him shiver with pleasure.
He struggled to focus. “At first, I wasn’t sure if whoever hit me was back to finish the job. I was under some ferns and vines, down off the path. I heard Frank’s voice, so I knew she’d be safe. Then I heard Gifford. I figured Frank had his hands full with Cherie—I didn’t want her getting hurt worse in a tussle between me and Dane. And I thought you might be there too.”
“Did you and Cherie go into the forest together?” she asked. “I saw you follow her.”
Ah, she was jealous. He smiled to himself. “No, ku’u ipo. I was following her, but not for what you’re thinking. I knew Dane was up to no good, and I didn’t want her getting hurt.”
She was finished with the two worst scratches and stroking the ointment onto the last. “But, why would Dane attack her? He wouldn’t want to…molest her. I’m, um, pretty sure he doesn’t swing that way.”
He was pretty sure Gifford swung both ways, but he skipped that for now. “Dane’s the reason I’m here,” he said. “The cops have had an eye on him. He’s involved with some dangerous people.”
“Those drug runners you mentioned? What on earth ki
nd of drug is so valuable they’d go to all this trouble to get it onto the islands?”
He hesitated, but only for an instant. She needed to know just why he’d trussed her playmate up like a pig for the imu. “The worst kind—not just a little Kona Gold weed. This is some really bad stuff, mind-altering hallucinogens. Kona Kula, they call it—Kona Diamonds.”
“Mind-altering hallucinogens?” she echoed. “That’s disgusting! Do you think Cherie knew about the drugs? Dane knew the others pretty well, except for you and me.”
“I don’t think so—I think they were just cover. He chose a group that would want to party, not ask questions. Maybe she wanted to buy, then saw something she shouldn’t have—I don’t know. When she recovers, they can ask her.”
Her hands stilled for a moment. “You thought I came up here to buy drugs,” she accused.
He snorted, moving under her hands to coax her to keep stroking him. “Pupule. You don’t even drink more than one mai tai. Why would I think you do drugs?”
Her palms flattened on his skin and stroked slowly along his spine. He clenched his teeth on a moan of pleasure.
“Dane said he told you—”
“Huh. That haole’s like a scorpion, stinging everyone in sight.”
She continued to stroke his back, but she wasn’t done talking. “But, Malu, if you didn’t see who hit you, how do you know it was Dane?”
“Little piece of leather,” he mumbled. Exhaustion dragged at him, pulling him down into the darkness. “When he pushed me over, one of those woven bracelets he wears came off. Gecko brought it to me—couldn’t miss it.”
He heard a strange noise and realized it was his stomach, growling. Damn, no wonder he was so light-headed; he hadn’t eaten since supper the evening before. But more than that, he needed sleep.
Not a deep sleep—he couldn’t afford to go under too far with Melia around. He’d scare the hell out of her. Just another light rest, like the one he’d had on the mountain. That would give him the strength to get up and secure the house.