by JoAnn Ross
He lifted a brow. “What’s wrong with this?”
“In the first place, those shoes have to go. No one, I repeat, no one , wears leather shoes on Orchid Island.”
“I’m not accustomed to running with the pack.”
His words fit that young cop she’d crushed on. Even as Lani wondered if it were possible to remain independent while rising within such a structured, military-based law-enforcement system, she had to give him credit for the way he avoided sounding unbearably egocentric, the way most men of his accomplishments invariably would.
“That’s undoubtedly true. And what you’re wearing is a huge improvement over your earlier suit. But you still need work. What time tomorrow do you want to go shopping?”
“Shopping?”
“For clothes. Honestly, Donovan, you can’t possibly hope to enjoy yourself dressed like an FBI special agent.”
“I’m not a special agent. Yet,” he qualified. “I also learned early in my career that the proper clothing encourages respect.”
“If you need to dress like a Wall Street trader in order to earn respect, you’re probably in trouble.”
“Want to guess how far I’d get questioning the business partner of a billionaire commercial real estate developer I know beyond a doubt killed his wife, but can’t yet prove it, while wearing a hoodie, torn jeans, and Chucks?” he countered.
“Point taken,” she allowed. “But you can’t deny that the Italian suit you showed up in looks a lot better on television than the T-shirt and faded jeans I remember you wearing.”
His dark blue eyes became as shuttered as windows painted black. Lani supposed he’d developed that distant, detached expression in order to keep suspects from reading his thoughts. In a way, Lani couldn’t help but admire that skill. She’d never been all that successful hiding her feelings. Which was partly what had led to her life getting so turned upside down during her time on the mainland.
“I didn’t realize you’d been paying so much attention to my attire back then,” he said. “In fact, I got the impression that you couldn’t stand to be in the same room with me.”
Lani shrugged. “I may not have liked you,” she admitted. Which wasn’t the whole truth and nothing but the truth. What she hadn’t liked was the dizzying, unfamiliar way he’d made her feel. “But I never said that you weren’t good-looking back then,” she said. “You’re still a very attractive man, but if clothes really do make the man, as the saying goes, you’re not nearly as open or natural as you were back then.”
“Are you suggesting I’ve turned into a phony?”
Lani reminded herself that this man was, after all, her brother’s best friend. The least she could do was show a little aloha spirit.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”
“You’ve probably had a long day,” he suggested. “What with that rush remodeling job Nate dumped on you.”
“That’s probably it,” Lani muttered, not wanting to contradict him, for that would entail admitting that something about Donovan Quinn still put her nerves, and other, more vital parts of her body, uncharacteristically on edge. She fell silent as they both stared out over the turquoise water.
“Nate assured me that this was the ideal place to unwind,” Donovan said at length.
“And you need to unwind.” It was not a question.
“Is it that obvious?” He held up a hand. “Never mind. You needn’t bother answering. I don’t know if my ego could take any more battering right now.”
“Most people who arrive here from the mainland need a little decompression time,” she said mildly. “It’s not always easy going from warp speed to island time. I certainly had to go through a major mental adjustment when I returned home from California, which is probably one of the more laid-back states… Meanwhile, I hope you’re hungry.”
“I think I am.”
He sounded surprised. Which, in itself wasn’t all that surprising, considering how much weight he’d shed. She wondered why the hell Nate hadn’t warned her that not only was Donovan coming to the island, he was arriving both physically and emotionally wounded.
“The last thing I ate was a bag of chips on the plane hours ago. Where are we going?”
“To my parents’ house, which is just down the beach. Nate always jokes about this end of the island being the Breslin family compound. Tonight is something of a command performance for me, and since I didn’t think my brother would want me leaving you alone your first night on the island, I figured the best thing to do would be to take you along.”
“Are you sure they won’t mind?”
She looked at him curiously. “Why would they mind?”
He shrugged. “Well, if it’s a special occasion—”
“Don’t worry,” she told him. “It’s only another one of Daddy’s unveiling ceremonies. He assures me that he’s created yet another masterpiece.”
“Last time I was here, your father was a doctor,” he said as they walked along the hard-packed sand at the edge of the water. She’d stayed barefoot, while he’d kept his loafers on. A mistake, he realized as the familiar ache started in again. He probably should have kept up with those range-of-motion exercises his doctor had prescribed, but after Matt had eaten his gun, even getting out of bed had proven an effort.
“He still is. One of those old-fashioned family practitioners. Oh, look!” She pointed up at the top of a jagged cliff rising inland. Shrouded in silver mist, it was softened by the touch of a rainbow. “Make a wish.”
“Why?”
“Because of the rainbow, of course.” She closed her eyes. “Hurry, before it disappears.”
Feeling more than a little foolish, Donovan found himself doing as she’d instructed. Unfortunately, closing his eyes had him missing the wave that filled his shoes with wet sand.
“There,” she said with satisfaction, opening her eyes again. “I feel lucky tonight. I hope you wished for something wonderful, Donovan, because I just know it will come true.”
“I thought it was the first star people wished on.”
“That only happens once a day,” she explained blithely. “If you wish on rainbows, sometimes you get a chance for two or three wishes every day. The odds are much better.”
Before he could respond to that idea, a huge beast the size of a small horse came bounding down the hard-packed sand, a long pink tongue lolling from its mouth. A moment later, the beast, which turned out to be a boisterous Harlequin Great Dane, stood on his hind legs, his huge paws braced on Lani’s bare shoulders as he joyfully licked her face.
“Meet Horatio,” she said, appearing unperturbed as she brushed wet sand off the front of her dress. “Horatio, this is Mr. Quinn. He’s a very good friend of Nate’s, so I want you to treat him like one of the family.”
She bent and picked up a piece of driftwood, throwing it into the water. Horatio took off after it, barking enthusiastically.
“He’s spoiled rotten, of course,” she said as they watched the dog splashing in the surf as he retrieved the stick. “So you’d best humor him. It’s all Daddy’s fault.”
“He’s your father’s dog?”
“In a way. You see, Daddy always wanted two sons and two daughters, but mother felt one of each should be enough for any family. Especially when the two children in question were so amazingly exemplary.”
“You won’t get any argument from me on that point.”
“Thank you, Donovan.” She flashed him a pleased smile. “That was precisely what you were supposed to say. Anyway,” she said, picking up the threads of the story, “a few months ago, Daddy rescued Horatio from the animal shelter.
“He’s adopted,” she said under her breath as the huge black-and-white animal came bounding back, the stick between his wide jaws. “But no one has had the heart to tell him. He’s really very sensitive.”
“He’s also a dog.”
“T
rue, though he doesn’t seem to realize that. While I don’t entirely agree with Daddy on the subject, I respect his right to keep the facts of Horatio’s adoption from him. For the time being.” Lani reached down and patted the happily panting dog on the head. “After all, he is only a puppy. When he’s older, he’ll be able to understand much better.”
Donovan searched her face for a hint of humor and found none. He wondered why Nate had never told him that his sister was slightly off-kilter. Then, thinking of Nate Breslin, living in a haunted house with the ghost of a sea captain for a roommate while he wrote lurid tales about things that go bump in the night, Donovan realized Nate might have never noticed. The Breslin family apparently had a looser standard than most when it came to normalcy. Which was why he never would’ve predicted Lani’s older brother and law-and-order, by-the-book Tess Lombardi would be such a perfect fit.
“I won’t say a thing,” Donovan agreed as they approached a sprawling, three-story white island-style plantation house overlooking the water. It was lit up with so many white Christmas lights, he wouldn’t have been surprised if planes mistook the roof for a runway.
“You’re still a very nice man, Donovan,” she said. “I think I just may forgive my brother for sending you down here to seduce me, after all.”
Standing on her toes, which she’d polished the same shiny coral as her fingernails, she brushed her lips against his. Donovan felt a flash of heat and flame before she broke the all-too-brief contact.
“Blue, I think,” she mused aloud.
“Blue?”
“The shirt we’re going to buy you tomorrow. Blue will do very nicely. A deep sapphire shade to match your eyes. Of course you know that they’re quite remarkable.”
While he might not be comfortable talking about himself, Lani’s candor was refreshing. In his business, most women he met were cops, lawyers, or ones he’d arrested. None of whom were so openly expressive. “Are they?”
“Of course they are,” she said, tossing her auburn head as they walked up the steps to the broad, covered front porch. “For heaven’s sake, Donovan, an intelligent man, especially one who’s received national attention, has certainly taken time to enumerate his strengths and weaknesses. And even when you’re carrying all that heavy baggage beneath them, the way you are now, your eyes are one of the most striking things about you.”
She paused and leaned forward to study them more closely, her gaze narrowed thoughtfully. “They remind me of the sea at midnight, beneath a full moon.”
When she gave him another of those slow smiles, heat collected at the base of his spine.
“I think that this could be a very interesting vacation,” he said.
“Or a long one, at any rate,” she countered in a dry tone.
3
“Well, well,” a feminine voice said. “I see you’ve brought along another art lover for the unveiling.”
Lani tilted her head back, her eyes smiling into Donovan’s.
“Mother,” she said, not taking her gaze from his, “look who’s come to visit us.”
Donovan looked past Lani to the woman standing in the open doorway. As tall and lean as her daughter, she had the same sea-green eyes. Unlike Lani’s wild reddish mane, however, her jet-black hair flowed down her back like a rippling waterfall, brightened here and there by brilliant streaks of silver.
“What a lovely surprise.” The woman’s caftan was every bit as colorful as the sundress worn by her daughter, and, like Lani, she smelled like the flowers printed on the flowing material. Donovan felt as if he’d stumbled into a tropical garden.
“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Breslin,” he said.
Kalena Breslin’s brightly interested eyes moved from Donovan to her daughter and back again. “The pleasure is ours, Donovan. But please, although it’s been too long since you visited, we’re friends, so I insist you call me Kalena. Nate was telling us all about your success when he was here with Tess for Thanksgiving.”
“Nate sent Donovan down here to seduce me,” Lani offered.
“Your brother has always been an enterprising man,” Kalena agreed easily. “In that respect he takes after your father.”
Donovan felt obliged to set the record straight. “Lani’s mistaken.”
Kalena smiled, the same slow, devastating smile that made her daughter so dangerous. “I’m not so sure,” she said smoothly. “My daughter has always been quite perceptive.” She glanced at Lani. “By the way, Taylor called here looking for you, sounding upset. I told her you’d call her back as soon as you arrived.”
“Taylor Young is my friend who’s getting married at the grotto,” Lani explained to Donovan. “She’s been floating on clouds ever since they got engaged. I wonder what could be wrong,” she murmured, more to herself than to her mother or Donovan. “I let my cell die again. I’ll have to call her on your landline before dinner.”
“From the way she sounded, I believe you should,” Kalena agreed. “You don’t think she and Ford might be having problems regarding the wedding?”
Lani shook her head decisively. “Not a chance. I’ve never seen a couple as wild about each other as Taylor and Ford.” She smiled up at her mother. “Except you and Daddy, of course.”
Kalena grinned at that. “What a nice thing to say,” she enthused. “And so very true.”
She moved aside, gesturing them into the house. The wood entry floor was covered in hemp-textured rugs, and track lighting along the ceiling illuminated the vivid paintings crowding high white walls. All were island scenes, the subjects varying from sun-dappled landscapes to formal portraits to colorful abstracts. The only thing the works of art had in common was that they were undeniably terrible. It was all Donovan could do not to stop and stare.
“Did you warn Donovan about the showing?” Kalena asked Lani as they wound their way down a long hallway lined with more canvases.
“I started to, but I got distracted by a rainbow.”
“Oh, dear,” Kalena murmured regretfully. “I missed that one.”
She glanced up at Donovan, whose attention had been momentarily captured by a portrait of a young native girl seated in the surf beside a wind-tossed palm. Had she stood up, Donovan would have bet she’d have topped the tree by at least ten feet. He vaguely remembered seeing the portrait’s twin in the airport terminal.
“I do hope you made a good wish, Donovan,” Kalena said. “Evening rainbows are especially lucky.”
His eyes moved to Lani’s. And held for a long, humming moment. “I certainly hope so.”
Kalena nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Good. Now about Thomas’s painting,” she said briskly. “It undoubtedly has not escaped your notice that my husband, while being a delightful and intelligent man, as well as a wonderful physician, possesses absolutely no talent whatsoever.”
“His style is definitely unusual,” Donovan offered, trying not to offend.
“You don’t have to mince words,” Lani said. “My father and I just happen to be the only two individuals in this family who managed to be out to lunch when talent was being passed out. Unfortunately, while I accepted that fact long ago, Daddy continues to delude himself with the idea that he’s another Gauguin.”
“You’re quite talented, darling,” Kalena argued. “None of my friends’ children have nearly as many college degrees as you do. And everyone loves what you’ve done to the house.”
“Poor Mother.” Lani shook her head in mock despair. “She just can’t accept the fact that she gave birth to a child with absolutely no marketable artistic abilities.”
Kalena Breslin’s words reminded Donovan of Nate’s saying that Lani had stayed in school much longer than the average student, gathering a bouquet of degrees in history, comparative literature, philosophy, and library science.
“Design is definitely a talent,” Kalena countered. “One I’ve no doubt you could be very successful at if you ever decided to
do it professionally.”
“Then it would become a job. Not fun,” Lani argued.
Her mother’s slight sigh suggested they’d had this conversation before. “At any rate, Donovan, my husband enjoys his little fantasy.” Her shoulders lifted in a graceful shrug. “So we all indulge him.”
“ All meaning the entire island,” he guessed, thinking back on the painting in the airport. Surely hanging it in a public place had to have required official approval.
“Of course,” Lani broke in. “Daddy’s treated everyone on Orchid Island at one time or another. Everybody adores him, so whenever he has a showing, people show up and buy out the gallery.”
Donovan tried to imagine such a communal act of subterfuge taking place in Portland, or even Honolulu, and found it highly unlikely. He felt as if his plane had somehow gone off course on the way from Oahu and landed in Oz.
“Don’t worry, Donovan.” Kalena’s laugh was deep and throaty as she patted his cheek. “No one expects you to buy anything.”
“Unless you want to,” Lani hinted broadly. “Who knows, Donovan, you might actually fall in love with Daddy’s latest artistic effort and simply have to have it.”
“It’s Lani’s turn to take a painting home,” Kalena explained.
“Well, I don’t think it’s fair,” Lani muttered, hands on her hips. “Just because I live on the island, I have to hang the stuff on my walls. Nate stores his in the back of his closets.”
“You don’t know that for a fact, darling.”
Lani shot a spear-like look straight at Donovan, who’d been trying to stay out of the dispute. “You’ve visited Nate at Sunset Point, haven’t you?”
“Several times.”
“So have you seen any Thomas Breslin paintings hanging around my brother’s haunted house?”
“No,” he admitted. “But I’m sure there’s a good reason.”
She folded her arms. “Name one.”
“Perhaps the captain took them.”
Lani snorted at that idea, while her mother appeared genuinely interested. “Oh, have you met Nate’s ghost friend, Donovan?”