Sun Kissed

by JoAnn Ross

  She treated him to an enigmatic smile. “Oh, I noticed, all right. Thinking back on it, I’ve come to the conclusion that part of the reason I behaved so abominably toward you was because of the way you made me feel things I was too young to understand.”

  Another surprise, he thought. “And now?”

  “I understand them all too well,” she said with a light laugh that faded as she treated him to a longer considering look. “But getting back to the topic at hand, doesn’t it get tiring?”

  He leaned closer, idly playing with a lock of her hair. “Doesn’t what get tiring?”

  “Always having to maintain a facade of being totally in control. Of continually being the man in charge.”

  Donovan shrugged. “It comes with the territory. I’ve gotten used to it.”

  Of course he had, Lani realized. She’d spent last night after she’d returned to her cottage, Googling him. From what she read, his image was that of a paradoxical man who could be charming, intelligent, dogged, and ruthless.

  “It’s also gotten you a lot of media coverage.”

  “I’m not going to apologize for using the media, Lani. I always considered news coverage the best way to telegraph the message to the bad guys that society will not accept their actions. Perhaps some of them will think twice before committing a crime. And if they don’t, then they’ll be dealing with me.”

  Lani recalled one interview she’d viewed on YouTube last night. The cool toughness Donovan Quinn had projected when announcing how a joint FBI/Portland Police Bureau task force had cracked a Pacific Coast ring raking in billions in illegal profits by selling arms and aircraft to enemy governments had certainly dispelled any idea that organized crime was untouchable.

  “You may have a point,” she said softly, watching the red sails of a small boat flutter in the wind. “And I totally get why the FBI wants you. I also realize that it would be a definite feather in your cap, and I’ve not a single doubt that you’d be terrific at keeping the world safe from terrorism. But is the FBI what you really want?”

  “Of course it is,” he insisted. “I’ve worked hard for this, Lani. I deserve it. And I want it.”

  If he seemed to be protesting a bit too much, Lani decided not to remark on it. “I don’t know what’s come over me lately,” she said with an apologetic smile. “I’m not usually so judgmental. It must be the full moon.”

  “The full moon was last week.”

  “Blame it on the waning moon, then. Or the tides. Did you know that seventy percent of the human body is water and that the very same percentage of water makes up the earth’s surface? How can we not be affected by things like tides?”

  Her eyes were too bright, her tone too brittle. Donovan had made the false assumption that she was one of those blissful souls who drifted through life, like those fish they’d swum among earlier, without a care in the world. He’d assumed wrong. Again.

  “How indeed?” he responded, deciding a public restaurant wasn’t the best place to discuss what was obviously a personal topic.

  Something was affecting both of them. And Donovan knew damned well that the tension that arose between them without warning and with increasing frequency could not be attributed to moons or tides or any other such fanciful notion.

  Even as she kept checking her phone for calls or texts, as if by mutual consent, they turned the conversation to lighter, less controversial topics—the weather, recent films, whether Portland or Orchid Island could boast the best seafood restaurants.

  They were lingering over coffee when a tall, stunning blonde, clad in a pair of red shorts and a red-and-white candy-cane-striped top came rushing up to their table and sat down in one of the empty chairs. “I’m so glad I found you!” she said breathlessly.

  “I’ve been trying to reach you since last night,” Lani said. “I want you to meet Donovan Quinn, Nate’s best friend from the mainland. Donovan, this is Taylor Young.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Taylor,” Donovan said, extending his hand.

  “Hi.” The woman’s eyes barely skimmed over Donovan as she ignored his outstretched hand. “Lani, I have to talk to you. Now .”

  Despite the fact that Taylor was head over heels in love with Ford, Lani had never seen her friend so upset that she’d so pointedly ignore any male, especially one as good-looking as Donovan was, even with his weight loss, which she was determined to reverse.

  “Sure. Why don’t you join us for coffee?”

  As Taylor’s distressed eyes returned to Donovan, he got the message. Loud and clear. “I think I’ll walk off some of that lunch on the beach,” he said, tossing some bills onto the table. “Why don’t you catch up with me later, Lani?”

  Lani’s grateful eyes thanked him silently as she nodded her agreement. Taylor appeared to have forgotten his existence.

  He’d seen that look before, Donovan mused as he walked along the edge of the wet sand. More times than he cared to count. Taylor Young was a stunning woman—when she wasn’t scared out of her wits.

  Hell. He’d been a cop too long. It was probably just some female thing like a problem deciding on which wedding dress to buy. Or the fiancé wanting a chocolate cake while she wanted white.

  Even as Donovan told himself that, he couldn’t quite make himself believe it. And Lani’s solemn expression, as she walked toward him twenty minutes later, only corroborated his gut instinct that there was a great deal more to her friend’s problem than mere wedding plans.

  “Ford’s gone,” She said as they returned up the beach to where she’d parked the Jeep. The mist that wasn’t quite rain had stopped, and the fresh air was softened with the scent of flowers.

  “He bailed on the wedding?”

  She shook her head. “No, I mean he’s disappeared. Ford and Taylor both own their own businesses. Taylor’s candy store is the Sugar Shack and Ford runs a scuba shop, Pacific Paradise Adventures next door. When he didn’t come back two days ago from a charter to Maui, Taylor thought he must’ve picked up another job.”

  “Sounds reasonable, given that you’ve already pointed out things like clocks and schedules aren’t as rigid down here. And it would make sense, if he had a chance to pick up some extra bucks to put away for a honeymoon, he’d jump at it.”

  “That was what Taylor thought. And I agree that it’s feasible. As for him not answering his phone, cell signals can be sketchy even on land here. On water, farther away from the towers, it’s even worse.”

  Even as she seconded her friend’s assumption, Lani’s eyes were filled with worry. During his years as a cop, he’d seen that look before. Usually right before things went to hell. “But he’s still not back,” he guessed, knowing the answer.

  “No. Taylor’s afraid that he’s in some kind of trouble. She spent all last night looking for him. That’s why I couldn’t reach her.”

  “Maybe the original clients decided to extend their trip,” he suggested. “Or, like you said, he took on another charter.”

  “But Ford wouldn’t have just taken off like that without a word. He’d have known Taylor would be worried sick.”

  “There’s always another explanation. Maybe he changed his mind about getting married.”

  “I’ve known Ford since he first arrived on the island nine months ago. He adores Taylor. He wouldn’t run out on her. And if he did have misgivings, which I don’t believe he did, they would have talked them out. The two of them share everything .”

  Once again her words sounded so very familiar. Donovan wondered vaguely how many distressed women he’d seen come into the station, certain that something terrible had happened to their husband, lover, fiancé, significant other, partner. Ninety-nine percent of the time, the guy had just gotten his fill of domestic life and split. Of course, there was always that one percent….

  “Has she gone to the police?”

  “Yes.” Lani made a sound of sheer disgust
. “Not that our local police are going to win any medals for investigative techniques. They believe that he’s left her.”

  “It happens, Lani,” Donovan said quietly. “Even in paradise.”

  Jerking her hand from his, Lani twisted the key in the ignition. “Not with Taylor and Ford,” she insisted firmly as she turned the Jeep back toward the highway.

  A moment later, she shot him a speculative, sideways glance. He could practically see the wheels turning inside that gorgeous red head.

  “Donovan, I have the most marvelous idea.”

  “No.”

  “You don’t even know what I’m going to say,” she complained.

  “You’re going to suggest that since the police refuse to look for Taylor’s missing fiancé, I check into it.”

  She gave him a warm, persuasive smile. “I know you could do it, Donovan. Don’t forget I was in Oregon when you went into that warehouse and captured the armed robber. I thought you were the bravest, most amazing man I’d ever met.”

  “You sure as hell could’ve fooled me,” he grumbled, remembering how he’d returned home from the ER that night flushed with success. Lani’s sulky indifference had quickly burst his little bubble of self-congratulation.

  “Surely you’re not going to hold my foolish teenage behavior against me?”

  “Of course I’m not. But that doesn’t mean that I’m going to go off on any wild-goose chase for your friend’s missing scuba diver, either.”

  “But you are a detective.”

  “I’m also supposed to be on vacation, as you keep pointing out.”

  Lani glanced over at him, undeterred by the grim line of his jaw. “Surely it wouldn’t take that long—”

  “Lani,” he warned in a low, serious voice.

  “All right,” she said as she returned her attention to the winding road. “But I don’t know how I’m going to tell poor Taylor you refused to investigate Ford’s disappearance.”

  “You already volunteered me, didn’t you?”

  “Oh, look,” she said brightly, dodging the question. “Coming up on your right is Makalapua Beach, which I told you about. You’ll probably recognize it because Hollywood shoots South Seas scenes there all the time. Many people consider it the prettiest beach in all of the islands. Of course other people argue that Hanalei, on Kauai, where Mitzi Gaynor washed that man right out of her hair in the movie South Pacific, is the best because it’s famous. But this is my favorite.”

  “That’s very interesting. And I’m sure it’s a great beach. Even the best beach in all the Pacific. But at the moment I’m more interested in what you told your friend.”

  “Honestly, Donovan,” Lani complained, “you really do need to learn to relax.”

  A moment later, Donovan was treated to a scene that lived up to its hype. The velvet-green mountain and golden coral sand, fringed by pandanus trees, was separated from the vast blue Pacific by a long ruffle of dazzling foam. The vista evoked all the mystical beauty of the South Seas. It also served to reduce his exasperation. Somewhat.

  “Paradise found,” he murmured.

  Lani gave him a distinctly wary but appreciative glance. “Isn’t it?”

  She pulled off the road and cut the engine. Draping her wrists over the top of the steering wheel, she gazed out over the sun-brightened sea.

  “Sometimes, when I’m feeling down, I’ll come up here and just sit on the beach, watching the waves. Before long, I’ll believe in the magic again.”

  Donovan slipped his arm loosely over the back of her seat. “That’s important to you, isn’t it? The magic?”

  He could hear her soft, rippling sigh. “This will probably only reconfirm your feeling that I’m crazy. But I do believe in the magic. Sometimes it’s the only thing that keeps me centered during difficult times.”

  Her solemnly spoken words cut through to some hidden core. Donovan hadn’t expected such a serious answer to what had been an idle question.

  He studied her profile carefully, unwillingly intrigued by this new aspect of Nate’s sister. As far as he had been able to tell, Lani lived the carefree existence of a tropical nymph. What could she possibly know about hardship? Yet the note of pain he detected in her soft voice suggested hidden depths she wasn’t yet prepared to share.

  “Are you still mad at me?” she asked. “I know I was wrong to tell Taylor that you’d help her find Ford, but she was so upset, and Nate’s always telling me that you’re the smartest detective on the West Coast, so when the idea popped into my head, I just blurted it out.”

  Her expression was so earnest that Donovan couldn’t resist a smile. “I suppose I could talk to her,” he agreed reluctantly.

  “That’s very nice of you, Donovan. Remind me to reward you for this display of gallantry.”

  He leaned across the console, and, with a finger, lifted her chin. “I have every intention of doing exactly that…”

  Slowly, deliberately, he closed the gap between them, bent his head, and took her mouth. Their lips touched once. Briefly. Lightly. Then again. And again.

  He certainly didn’t kiss like a man suffering from burnout, Lani thought as sunshine seemed to flow through her veins. Taking her hand, which had somehow lifted to his shoulder, he pressed it against his chest. While her heart was beating like a rabbit’s, his heartbeat was strong and hard. Just like the rest of him.

  “If this is the reward I get for agreeing to talk to your friend, I can’t wait for the payoff when I find the guy,” he said, touching his lips to her temple.

  Lani closed her eyes briefly, luxuriating in the feel of his lips against her skin. “Then you do believe that something’s happened to him? That he hasn’t really jilted Taylor?”

  “I believe Taylor believes that,” Donovan hedged.

  “But you don’t.” Before he could respond, Lani drew apart and held up the hand that had been exploring his chest beneath the T-shirt. “Please don’t answer that until after you’ve talked with her and heard the story firsthand.”

  “I suppose that’s next on the agenda?” Although he knew he was playing with fire, Donovan could think of a great many more pleasurable ways to spend an afternoon with Lani. Beginning with washing off the salt water from snorkeling beneath that outdoor rain shower Nate had had her put in.

  “No, Taylor has to go to Honolulu tonight—something about a mix-up with the company that supplies her chocolate, which is really important because she’s got a big order to ship out to California—so you’re meeting her tomorrow morning for breakfast.”

  “For someone so upset, it seems she’s got her priorities a little reversed.” In his line of work, that was definitely a red flag.

  “She’s already gone to the police,” Lani said, the lack of conviction in her voice revealing she shared his misgivings, but wasn’t prepared to admit it. “And got them to notify the Coast Guard to watch out for his boat. But she also has an interview to appear on Shark Tank, so it’s vital that the order go out on time and sell well so she’ll impress the investors enough to make a deal that will allow her to continue to expand her company off the island.”

  “I imagine appearing on that program is quite a coup.”

  “There’s a lot of competition,” she agreed.

  “I don’t suppose you had anything to do with her beating the contestant odds.”

  “I may have made a few calls,” she said, with a vague wag of her hand. “I do still have friends in the business. But I wouldn’t have contacted them solely for friendship. Her chocolate really is that good. Wait until you taste her Macadamia dark chocolate truffles. They’re to die for.”

  From Lani’s description, and the brief meeting, Taylor Young didn’t sound like the type of black widow who ended up on all those court television shows on trial for murdering a lover, fiancé, or husband. But the situation, which wasn’t yet a case, had Donovan’s spidey senses tin
gling. Still, FBI study books aside, he was supposed to be here on vacation, this wasn’t his jurisdiction, it would probably turn out to be nothing, and the idea of an evening alone with Lani trumped talking to a bride-to-be who appeared more concerned about growing her business than finding her missing fiancé.

  “While you were walking on the beach, I got a text from my grandmother,” Lani said. “She’s sorry she missed dinner last night and wants to see you.”

  He glanced down at his rain-rumpled clothing. “I’m not sure I’m properly dressed to visit island royalty.”

  He’d learned the story of how a Breslin woman several generations back had married a distant cousin of the former queen of Hawaii. Which, since Orchid Island had managed to remain independent of the other islands during their civil war, essentially made Lani and Nate’s father the king of Orchid Island and Lani’s grandmother the queen mother.

  Lani glanced over at him. “No problem.” She turned the key to start the Jeep’s engine. “We can stop on the way.”

  8

  After a stop at the island clothing store, which involved a great deal of compromise (mostly on Donovan’s part, he felt), he left wearing a dark blue polo shirt with a magenta tribal design across his chest, khaki board shorts, and mesh canvas Vans. Having finally been declared suitably attired, ten minutes later he was following Lani through a winding maze of overgrown hibiscus bushes toward a house that was an oddly eclectic mishmash of architectural styles.

  Although he’d met Lani and Nate’s grandmother when he’d originally visited several years ago, he’d never been to her home. Constructed of red brick, it might have been New England in feeling had there not been huge white marble columns out front, and a wide porch, which gave it an antebellum air. A series of Victorian cupolas rose from a Spanish tile roof. It was as if the house had changed hands several times in the construction process, each new owner adding his own imprint, rather than scrapping previous plans and starting fresh.