by JoAnn Ross
“It depends,” Lani answered at length. “If you lock yourself away in Nate’s beach house and do nothing but pore over those study guides, you might as well have stayed home. A change in location isn’t going to make any difference.
“However, if you forget about work for a while and open yourself up to everything the island has to offer, then I’d say you did the right thing coming here. Because even if you do go through with the test, you’ll undoubtedly score better if you’re not so tense.”
“I’m not that tense.”
“Liar,” she said without heat.
He wasn’t going to get into an argument he couldn’t win. Since she was right and they both knew it. “What, exactly, does the island have to offer?”
“The best way to find that out,” she said, decelerating as she suddenly turned off the main highway, “is to take things one day at a time and leave yourself open to surprises.”
Donovan wondered if Lani realized that she was the most unsettling surprise he’d had in years. In a lifetime, he amended, casting a quick, sidelong glance at her profile.
The short road cut through the lush, fragrant greenery, ending at a tall white lighthouse.
“Lanikohua Lighthouse,” Lani announced in her tour-guide voice as she brought the Jeep to a sudden stop with a screech of brakes. “Standing on the northernmost point of the island, it serves as a beacon to ships and planes en route to and from Asia. It also claims the second largest clamshell lens in existence, right after the one on Kauai. These days it’s fully automated, but as you’ll see, the view is spectacular.”
“It is certainly that,” Donovan agreed, his eyes on Lani as she jumped out of the Jeep. The shirt fell midway to her thighs, drawing his attention again to those smooth, golden-tanned legs.
The urge to touch her again was suddenly overwhelming. Donovan reached out and brushed his thumb along her cheekbone. “All these years that he’s extolled your many virtues, Nate forgot to mention what a beautiful woman you grew up to become.”
“You know how brothers are,” she said lightly. “Nate undoubtedly still thinks of me as having red braids down to my waist—which he yanked more times than I’d care to count, by the way—a hot temper, and a mouth full of railroad tracks.” Taking his hand, she led him to the edge of the bluff. “Check this out, Detective.”
Multihued blue water swirled dizzyingly far below them, breaking on the rocks in sprays of frothy white sea foam. Lani was standing on a rock beside him, her eyes bright with exhilaration.
“Isn’t it glorious?” she asked breathlessly, throwing back her head to gaze out over the water, which reflected every color of blue from shimmering turquoise to deep indigo and all the shades in between. “Whenever I come here, I have an almost uncontrollable urge to fling open my arms and fly off into the sky.” Her lips curved into a wide smile. “Some kids dream of digging to China. I always wanted to fly there.”
Her cheeks were flushed a deep apricot and her hair was blowing free in the warm breeze, like a gilt-and-copper halo. She looked every bit as carefree, as welcoming, as the native Orchid Island women must have looked, standing on this very bluff, watching Captain Cook’s ships sail up the coast.
No wonder that long-ago Breslin mutineer from New Bedford, Massachusetts, had fallen in love with the island, Donovan mused. Lani Breslin was part fantasy, part flesh-and-blood female. And he wanted both more than he could remember wanting anything in his life.
He was struck by a sudden urge to capture the breathtakingly sight of her. So that years from now, when he was chasing down terrorists, worrying about rising crime statistics, or whatever other sleep-stealing problems the future might bring, he could look at the photograph and remember what total freedom looked like.
“Really, Donovan,” Lani complained lightly when she heard the unmistakable click of a cell phone camera. “If I’d known you were in the market for a model, I would have brought along one of my father’s.”
“I don’t want one of your father’s models. I want you.”
His meaning was clear. There was a hint of annoyance in his tone that Lani opted to ignore. After all, from what she could tell, he’d tamped down his emotions so tightly for so long, awakening them would have to be initially uncomfortable for him.
“We need to get back on the highway. I still have a lot to show you.”
Donovan ran his fingers down the back of her neck. “What about the smiles you collect along the way being more important than the miles covered?”
In spite of her heart pounding like a tribal tiki drum, she managed a smile at the familiar saying. “You’re catching on, Detective Quinn. There may just be hope for you yet.”
“I certainly hope so,” he murmured huskily as he leaned down to kiss her.
His lips were firm, yet rather than demanding a response, they coaxed silkily, enticing her into the slow, but definitely serious kiss.
The breeze cooling her uplifted face was tinged with the crisp, tangy scent of the sea, and the sun felt warm, blissfully so, against her eyelids. Below, Lani could hear the crash of the surf as it beat endlessly against the rocks, and somewhere in the distance a seabird called out as it scanned the surging tide for silvery fish.
The reality of place and time gradually ebbed, like sands being washed away beneath a retreating wave.
When her mouth opened in a soft sigh of acceptance and wonder, Donovan thrust his tongue between her lips, drawing forth a moan. As the kiss deepened and her body melded against his, he felt as if they were standing on the very edge of a furious volcano. Flames tore at his restraint. Heat, fire, and smoke surrounded them, threatening to sweep them into the fiery core.
Slowly, gradually, Donovan became aware of yet another sensation. “It’s raining again.” He was surprised the soft, cooling water against his heated skin didn’t create steam.
“Liquid sunshine,” she corrected against his mouth. “Oh, more,” she demanded, pressing her lips against his with renewed strength.
His body was still on fire, molten lust surging through his loins, and Donovan knew that they were reaching the point of no return.
“Lani,” he warned, “we have to stop.”
“Why?” Her lips on his throat had his blood pounding like surf in a hurricane.
“Because we’re out in the open, in public, on the edge of a cliff, but in another minute, I’m going to forget all the reasons this is a bad idea.”
“Don’t you ever give in to impulse?”
His answering laugh was rough and raw. “Sweetheart, what do you think I’ve been doing ever since I got here on the island?”
His frank response broke the sensual mood. She tossed up her chin. “I have a name, Donovan. And if you’re going to consider me some dangerous threat to your control, I’d prefer you use it, rather than a less-than-flattering generic ‘sweetheart.’”
Hell. Could he have handled this any worse? “I’m sorry. It’s just that I didn’t come here for a vacation fling. I’m here supposedly deciding what I’m going to do with my life and where I’m going.”
“And where you might have gone wrong?” she asked. Apparently not one to hold a grudge, she rubbed at the spot between his brows where the headache that had been threatening had hit like a damn missile.
“Now you sound like your brother.”
He was exactly where he had set out to be so many years ago when he’d first climbed into that patrol car. When he’d determined to prove his famed neurosurgeon father and equally renowned psychiatrist mother wrong when he’d chosen a career in law enforcement over medicine.
“And except for the drive out here, we haven’t exactly gone slowly.”
“True enough.” She let out a slight sigh. “Appearances to the contrary, I don’t believe in being reckless. But sometimes, in some situations, there’s a lot to be said for following your impulses. It’s like being up here on the very edge of this cliff and
looking down into the water. If you allow yourself to think about it, you’d turn around and climb right back down again. But sometimes, you just have to close your eyes and dive in.”
His brows drew together. “And what if you land in dangerous waters?”
“That’s the risk you take, I suppose.”
He half smiled. “You make it sound so easy.”
“And you make it sound so difficult.” Shrugging off the impasse for now, she linked her fingers with his. “We’d better get going or we’ll hear an earful from Moby Dick for being late.”
7
Tension hummed between them like an electrical wire downed in a hurricane as Lani pointed out different scenic attractions while they drove along the coast. From time to time, she’d sneak a glance at him, finding the granite set of his jaw less than encouraging.
Men, she mused exasperatedly. They were so damnably sensitive—why did women bother to put up with them at all? As soon as Lani had asked herself that rhetorical question, the memory of Donovan’s kisses provided the definitive answer.
Lani wanted him. On the beach. In her bed. Or better yet, beneath that outdoor rain shower she’d installed.
Wherever she could get him.
“Here we are,” she said as she pulled the Jeep off the road several minutes later. “Just as a matter of idle curiosity, are you going to sulk all day?”
“Men don’t sulk.”
“Oh, that’s right. Your kind merely broods manfully.” She ran her fingers over the top of the steering wheel. Then sighed. “This situation isn’t easy for me, either, Donovan. And we are going to have to deal with it. But, at the moment, I need to call Taylor again, and Moby Dick is waiting for his breakfast.”
* * *
The pristine water, intricately laced with a network of coral formations, was teeming with marine life of all kinds. Sea grass waved serenely in the slight current while brilliantly colored and patterned fish dashed among the branches of coral like tropical birds flitting through the delicate limbs of stony trees.
Vivid pink and red sea anemones expanded like soft and brilliant flowers, their sinuous tentacles waving enticingly as they lured unsuspecting victims into their embrace. Black-banded triggerfish approached Donovan curiously, searching for handouts, while a conspicuously striped orange-and-blue clownfish nestled safely among the stinging tentacles of a cluster of anemones.
A spiny lobster, looking like a giant insect, approached along the sandy bottom, armored legs lifted as if prepared for battle.
Lani tapped him on the shoulder, interrupting his fanciful thoughts, as she pointed across the silent lagoon. Cruising toward them and ignoring the other fish with regal dignity was a large turquoise fish with bright purple and yellow markings. Schools of smaller fish obediently parted like a silver curtain as the parrotfish swam in an unwavering line toward Lani. In this underwater world, he was undeniably king.
Lani reached into a small bag, taking out a yellow high-impact plastic waterproof camera, which she handed to Donovan with a smile. Her eyes laughed behind the snorkeling mask she’d donned as the fish nudged her insistently. Impatiently. While Donovan snapped away on the digital camera, the parrotfish plucked frozen green peas from Lani’s outstretched hand with comical but precise bucktoothed jaws, never once grazing her skin.
When Lani pointed toward Donovan, appearing to introduce man and fish, Moby Dick’s shiny black eyes seemed to meet his in an almost human, oddly somber gaze. Then he blinked, giving Donovan the strange impression that perhaps, just maybe, something had registered on both sides. Before Donovan could dwell on the meaning of their silent exchange, a school of long-nose fish swam between them like a sunburst, shattering the fanciful interlude. Shaking his head bemusedly, he followed her as she swam back toward the beach.
“Well,” she demanded, pushing her mask up onto her forehead as they stood in the knee-deep water, “now you’ve met Moby Dick.”
Donovan took off his own mask. “He didn’t talk to me.”
Lani shrugged. “Didn’t I mention he uses telepathy?” Her teasing gaze turned suddenly serious. “What did you really think?”
He reached out, pushing back some clinging strands of wet hair from her face. “I think,” he answered slowly, “that this morning will go down as one of the most overwhelmingly beautiful experiences of my life. Thank you for it.”
“We were only snorkeling, Donovan, something I do nearly every day. It’s really not all that profound.”
He pondered that for a moment. “Perhaps not profound,” he agreed, “but vastly enjoyable. There was something almost otherworldly about it.”
Even as she experienced a rush of pleasure at his words, Lani was distressed by the fact that he had echoed her own thoughts so clearly. She’d been trying to remind herself of all the things she and Donovan Quinn did not have in common. All those reasons that whatever happened between them could never be anything but an enjoyable vacation fling.
The idea that they could share feelings other than sexual attraction would make things even more difficult.
“You don’t take much time out for enjoyment, do you, Donovan?” she asked, forcing herself to focus once again on the differences between them.
“I’ve been known to play a hole or two of golf.”
“With the mayor and the police commissioner,” she guessed as she retrieved a thigh-length cover-up emblazoned with a brilliant silk-screened rainbow from the backseat of the Jeep and pulled it over her head. “I’ll bet you’ve never gotten through a game without discussing your work. You know your lowest score on every course you’ve ever played, and unless you at least match it every time out, you spend the remainder of the day irritated by your performance.”
“There you go again, with that imagination.” Rather than admit how close she’d come to guessing the truth, he took out his phone and shot another photo. “And speaking of imaginations, I just thought of a wish.”
“A wish?”
Following his wicked gaze, Lani glanced down at her chest. “Oh. That doesn’t count; it has to be a real rainbow.”
“Since when are you such a stickler for rules?”
Her grin was quick and filled with sunshine, denying the mist that had started falling from the single cloud in the blindingly blue sky. “Since I had to start dealing with you.” She tossed him his clothing. “Get dressed, Donovan. I’m taking you to lunch.”
* * *
Five minutes later, Donovan found himself seated at a tapa-topped lacquered table, facing a wall of glass that provided a panoramic view of Mahini bay.
When Lani had first led him past the tiki poles draped in sparkling red, yellow, and green Christmas lights that marked the entrance to the elegant restaurant, Donovan had been struck by a sudden urge to put on a tie, despite the fact that every man in the place was wearing shorts, flip-flops, and either a T-shirt or aloha shirt.
“Still suffering from culture shock?” Lani asked sympathetically as she stirred her drink. A small paper parasol adorned the top of the red plastic swizzle stick.
“Is it that obvious?”
Lani observed him judiciously across the four-top as she took a sip of rum punch. “Only when you keep trying to straighten your tie.”
“At least I’m providing some amusement.”
“Don’t be so sensitive. I think it’s kind of cute.” She speared a plump shrimp with a pair of bamboo chopsticks.
“I’m not sensitive.” He took a pull on his bottle of Bikini Blonde Lager.
“You could have fooled me. And when did they pass a law in Portland outlawing police detectives to have a sense of humor?”
“Are you aware of the fact that every time you refer to my occupation, you heap an extra helping of sarcasm on it?”
“Now who’s got an overworked imagination?” she asked mildly.
“You’re ducking the question. What do you have against my w
ork?”
“You’re taking an innocent comment far too personally, Donovan.”
“No, I don’t think I am.”
Her frustrated sigh ruffled her bangs. “For heaven’s sake, it’s not that I’ve actually got anything specific against your work—”
“You have no idea how that relieves my mind,” he drawled.
“Do you want me to answer your question or not?”
He shrugged. “I’m probably going to regret this, but go ahead.”
“I don’t think you’re happy.”
“Okay. Hell. You’ve got me. I confess, since your brother will probably tell you anyway if you ask him.” He held up his hands. “I’m burned out, drifting, the department shrink diagnosed me as midline depressed, so Nate and Tess sent me down here to unwind. Are you happy now?”
“Of course I’m not happy to hear that you’re troubled.” She braced her elbows on the table, linking her fingers together. “Sightseeing and snorkeling’s a start. But I’m not sure it’s enough to cure a serious case of burnout.”
“Did I say it was serious? I’ve been through some stuff lately, and needed a break. So, here I am. And no offense, Lani, I’m not sure you’re in a position to diagnose a case of occupational burnout,” he said. “You appear to have created a life that suits you. And that’s great. But despite all those degrees, you’re not exactly the most hard-driving person I’ve ever met.”
“No offense taken,” she said mildly. “And I didn’t think you’d listen.” She leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs in in a smooth movement that Donovan couldn’t help noticing despite his discomfort. Her eyes met his across the table. “Can you honestly tell me that you enjoy your work?”
“If it was supposed to be fun, they probably wouldn’t call it work.”
“Where have I heard that before?” she murmured. Then shrugged, shifting her gaze to the magical vista of the bay and the lush green mountains ablaze with flowers. “I can remember when you loved being a policeman,” she said quietly.
“You were so busy complaining about everything and everyone around you that Christmas that I hadn’t realized you’d noticed.”