by Susan Lyons
She shivered. “You’re so damned full of yourself, Damien Black.”
All the same, she hadn’t said no, which made him grin smugly. “Guess I’ll have to prove I belong on that list.” He secured her hand in his as the plane descended for its landing.
Once they were down, he stowed his gear in his carry-on while she turned on her mobile and checked messages. “Friday,” she muttered.
“Should I ask, or are you talking to yourself again?”
“Sorry. That was Kat, the next oldest sister. She’s in Montreal, the head of PR for a luxury hotel.”
He heard a note of pride in her voice. Even though she and her sisters had their issues, there were bonds of affection, too.
“Anyhow,” she went on, “she’s booked train tickets.”
“She’s the one who doesn’t fly.” He’d overheard Theresa’s side of the conversation.
“She’ll be home Friday, and that’ll be another pair of hands to help with everything.” The prof didn’t sound thrilled to pieces.
“Let me guess. You’d rather do things yourself than share work or delegate.”
Her mouth squeezed into a rueful expression. “What can I say? I’m efficient. When we were kids, Mom would put me in charge of getting the chores done. I’d try to organize the others, but Kat always had something going on with her friends, and Jenna’d forget the moment after I told her what to do, so it was easier to do things myself.”
“You had schoolwork, though. Those accelerated courses must have taken a lot of time.”
“Sure, but…When the others did pitch in, it was slapdash. They didn’t do as good a job.”
Damien grinned. He could imagine the bossy older sister ordering the others around, not being satisfied with the results, and letting them know. If he’d been Theresa’s sibling, he’d probably have said, “Fine, next time do it yourself.” Family dynamics. He’d learned it was easier to avoid his family than deal with all the crap.
He and Theresa gathered up their belongings as the plane taxied to the gate. When the arrival bell dinged, Damien opened the overhead bin and took down the older couple’s bag. “Nice meeting you,” he said.
“You, too,” the man said. “By the way, we’re Trev and Delia Monaghan. And I’ve enjoyed your books, young man. Just read the latest before leaving home.”
“You know who I am?”
“Overheard the flight attendant. And don’t worry, we won’t be telling anyone about your secret engagement.”
“Appreciate that.”
“But you get that date set, son,” Trev said, “and marry the girl before someone else scoops her up.”
“Yes, sir.” Damien faked a salute.
Theresa leaned past him to say, “Have a wonderful visit with your family.”
“Thanks, dear,” Delia answered. “And don’t forget that advice I gave you.”
“We won’t.”
Damien stepped back to let them go down the aisle first, then he and Theresa took their place in the queue.
Once they were into the airport, they both lengthened their stride and passed the people who were walking more slowly. “Feels good to stretch,” she said.
“Sure does.” He glanced around. “Nice airport. It’s my first time in Honolulu.”
“I often stay over. It breaks the trip.” She sniffed the air, an appreciative expression on her uplifted face. “Mmm, I love the feel and scent of the air here.”
Now that she’d mentioned it, he realized how balmy the air was. And scented with tropical flowers. Kind of like at his place in Queensland. This wasn’t the unpleasant climate control so typical of airports. In fact, the airport was only partially roofed and a couple of small birds darted around. “Whoever designed this place got it right.”
“There’s even a garden. You can go for a walk or sit on a bench. But right now, I need to see about getting my ticket changed.”
Since she knew the airport, he let her take charge. For a macho dude, he sure had a pack of women bossing him around. Editors, agent, publicists, admin assistant, and now the prof.
Damn, he was glad she’d agreed to stay overnight. In fact, he was so glad, it was disconcerting. Likely he’d have had no problem finding a woman to share his bed, but he didn’t want just any woman. He wanted Theresa. A control freak with a streak of vulnerability. Frustrating, challenging, intriguing. Sexy. Fun.
With brisk efficiency, they retrieved his baggage, then Theresa found the ticket desk and made her inquiry of a stunning young Hawaiian woman.
“Want the good news first, or the bad?” the woman asked with a smile. Then, without giving them a chance to answer, she went on. “Yes, Ms. Fallon, I can get you on the same flight as Mr. Black, but business class is full, so I can’t give you an upgrade.”
“D’you have two seats together in economy?” he asked.
“Yes, if you don’t mind being downgraded.”
“Hmm,” he mused. “A business-class seat and service versus…” He studied Theresa, faking a cool, appraising gaze, but badly enough she’d know he was kidding.
She stuck her nose in the air. “Separate seats are better anyhow. By the time I’ve spent a day with you, I’m sure I’ll be getting bored.” The corners of her mouth twitched.
The ticket agent glanced from one to the other. “So, uh, you do want separate seats?”
Damien reached over to wrap an arm around Theresa. “No bloody way.”
At first her body was tense, as if she wasn’t used to this kind of physicality, then she softened and melded against him, putting her arm around him too.
White-tipped fake nails tapped quickly on a keyboard, then a printer hummed, and the agent handed him an envelope. “Here are your tickets. Mr. Black, you’ll need to check in tomorrow with your luggage. Now, Ms. Fallon, I can see if we can get your baggage off the plane.”
“No, that’s all right, thanks. But can you make sure it’s held in Vancouver?”
“Of course. I’ll notify our people at YVR.” The Hawaiian grinned. “Good excuse to shop in Honolulu, isn’t it? As if a girl ever actually needs an excuse.”
They thanked her and moved away from the counter, Damien shoving the ticket folder in the back pocket of his jeans. “Let’s get a taxi.”
She groped his butt—no, she was pulling out the folder. “You should take better care of this. Let me put it in my bag.”
The joys of being with a control freak. He’d never lost tickets in his life. Well, except for that one time in Melbourne…If she wanted to be in charge, let her. His ego could handle it.
She zipped the tickets into an inside compartment of her purse. “Taxis are this way.”
He followed her, backpack slung over one shoulder, tugging his wheeled bag.
When they climbed into the next cab in line, the middle-aged Hawaiian driver said, “Where to?”
“Waikiki Beach.” He pulled out the hotel confirmation e-mail. “The Queen Lili…” Damn, Aboriginal Australian names weren’t so unpronounceable.
“Queen Liliuokalani?” Theresa asked, the syllables gliding melodically off her tongue, though she sounded skeptical.
“Yeah, that’d be it.” He showed her the e-mail printout.
“Gotcha,” the driver said, pulling away from the curb.
“That’s quite the hotel,” Theresa said. “Right on the beach.”
“You’ve stayed there?”
She snorted. “Hello? I’m the one who flies economy.”
“Mostly I’m in budget hotels. But I decided to splurge since it’s my first time in Hawaii.” He’d imagined working out the airplane kinks with a long run on the beach, then having a burger and a couple drinks in a beachside bar, followed by some sightseeing. Now all he could think about was Theresa naked in a big bed.
She was way over on the other side of the seat, so he slid over, reaching for her hand. Instead of meeting his grip, she gestured to her seat belt. “Do yours up.”
“Is there a rule you don’t follow?” he
grumbled.
“Not if the rule’s there for a good reason.” She watched as he did up his belt, then, eyes twinkling, added, “Like that one about not, uh, what is it? Smoking in the lavatory on a plane?”
“Gosh, no,” he teased back. “I sure wouldn’t want to, uh, smoke in the loo.”
Now she did let him take her hand, but it sure as hell was frustrating, not being able to even rub thighs. Oh well, he could entertain himself with thoughts of how they were going to heat up that bed.
Apparently, the prof’s thoughts were taking a whole different tack, because she said, “She was the last monarch of the Hawaiian islands.”
“Huh?”
“Liliuokalani. She was quite a woman. She didn’t want to lose Hawaii to the foreigners. She did her best to preserve the monarchy and keep the islands for the native people.”
“Fighting a losing battle.” He didn’t know a lot of history, but he did know that the native people always got screwed.
“Yes. The American immigrants—especially the wealthy, powerful ones—wanted Westernization and of course control of the economy. They overthrew the monarchy, deposed Queen Liliuokalani, and set up a provisional government, which became the Republic of Hawaii.”
“Who took over from the queen? Let me guess, some white guy.”
“Good guess. Sanford Dole.”
“You actually remember his name?”
“Dole pineapple? It was his cousin who founded the pineapple empire.” She ran a hand through her hair, lifting wisps of bang off her forehead.
The cab was stuffy, so he lowered the window, though now that balmy Hawaiian air was scented with exhaust rather than flowers. “And then Hawaii became an American state?”
“No. The American president was Grover Cleveland, and he actually favored the monarchy. He believed it had the support of the Hawaiian people, which was no doubt true. Anyhow, there was lots of politicking and an attempted uprising. Liliuokalani did eventually swear allegiance to the Republic of Hawaii.”
“That must’ve burned her off something fierce.”
“I imagine so. Not only for herself, but for her people. The loss of independence.”
“As always happens when the white man ‘discovers’ a new country.” Bitterly he thought how true it was in Australia, with the Aborigines and Torres Strait Islanders. In fact, a court had even held that the lands were vacant when the colonizers arrived. Basically, saying the Indigenous Australians weren’t human beings. It pissed him off whenever he thought about it.
Theresa was going on. “Yes, precisely. So then, in, mmm, I think it was 1898—the U.S. president was McKinley by then—Hawaii was annexed to the States. It didn’t actually become a state until something like the late 1950s.”
How about that? He’d assumed the American states had all been states for a century or more. The prof sure made him feel ignorant. “How do you know all this stuff?”
“I’ve studied all the indigenous societies in the world.”
“Here you go, folks,” the taxi driver’s voice broke in. “The Queen’s hotel.”
With a start Damien realized he’d missed the entire trip from the airport. Maybe there’d been scenery, but he’d been caught up in Theresa’s story and the intent expression on her face.
He started to get out and almost strangled himself on his seat belt. By the time he got around to the trunk, the driver was extracting his bag and their carry-ons and handing them to a hotel porter, who made a small stack on a luggage trolley.
Damien pulled out his wallet, handed the driver some American bills, and said, “Thanks, mate. Keep the change. And I’ll need a receipt.”
“Thanks.” The driver glanced up at the hotel. In a neutral tone he said, “Things sure would’ve been different if Liliuokalani’d got her way.”
As he drove away, Damien studied the hotel. Two cream-painted towers, their balconies dripping with purple bougainvillea, were connected by a much lower building with a palm-thatch roof. The porter, a tanned young man with streaky-blond hair who Damien would bet was a surfer, gestured toward the glass doors. “Good morning. Welcome to the Queen Liliuokalani.”
The greeting reminded him it was only nine in the morning here. And, because of crossing the international date line, it was nine o’clock yesterday morning. His mind boggled at the concept. It was almost as if there was a parallel universe, one in which he had yet to even leave for this trip.
A universe in which he hadn’t met Dr. Theresa Fallon. Tezzie. No, he didn’t like that universe at all.
Together they stepped into the lobby and he gazed around, appreciating the design. Under the high thatched roof, airy rattan and glass furniture was scattered, and vivid purple orchid plants decorated every surface. A soft breeze wafted through, carrying the scent of ocean, tropical flowers, and a hint of sunscreen.
The other side of the lobby had no wall. It was open to a landscaped area with a pool, lounge chairs, and tables with umbrellas, and beyond that the beach. The wings of the hotel extended in a ragged V-shape away from the lobby, framing the pool and garden, a formation that would give every room an ocean view.
It had been something like fourteen hours since he’d left his flat in Sydney, and his sandaled feet itched longingly at the thought of walking on damp sand. But when he glanced at Theresa, another part of him had an even bigger itch.
Another lovely Hawaiian woman—did Hawaii make any plain ones?—greeted them at the reception desk. He had no desire to flirt with any of these women. Looking at them was like admiring a lovely picture. The only woman he wanted to get intimate with was Theresa. The sooner the better.
He’d arranged for an early check-in, and soon the clerk was handing him an envelope with two key cards. “You’re on the tenth floor in the Plumeria Tower, Mr. Black.” She gestured. “Over there, the northern tower. Chase will take you to your room.”
“Just follow me,” the porter said, his smile a white flash against deeply tanned skin.
In the elevator, Damien brushed his shoulder against Theresa’s. She gazed up at him and he saw uncertainty in her eyes. Second thoughts?
When the doors opened, he let the porter precede them down the hall and hung back to ask, “Are you okay?”
“A little nervous. Staying with a stranger…”
“I’m not a stranger. I’m that crappy writer who’s one of the ten sexiest bachelors in Oz.” He leaned close to whisper in her ear. “And who’s the best lover in the entire country.”
As he’d intended, she giggled. “Oh, right. How could I have forgotten?”
They had caught up to the porter, who had opened their room door. Damien stood back to let Theresa enter first, then found more American bills and tipped the porter. Then he put out the “Do Not Disturb” sign and followed Theresa into the room.
It was attractively decorated in the same light and airy style as the lobby, with watercolor paintings of Hawaiian scenes and a couple of orchid plants gracing tabletops. Morning sun slanted through the tilted louvers of a pair of wooden doors.
Theresa opened them, revealing the balcony, which he recalled from the hotel’s Web site was called a lanai. She stepped outside. “Oh my.”
He moved to stand beside her in the sunshine, near a railing decorated by bright purple bougainvillea. “So this is Waikiki.” He glanced right and left, absorbing the view. It reminded him of Surfers Paradise on the Gold Coast. A lovely long stretch of beach rimmed by high-rises and shopping. Even the bougainvillea and the plants in the garden below—coconut palm, hibiscus, red ginger, and frangipani—were familiar.
“Not many people on the beach,” she said. Despite the giggle a few minutes ago, her voice sounded strained. “I guess tourists are sleeping in or having breakfast. Are you hungry?”
He put an arm around her, feeling tension in her shoulders. “Yes.”
She turned to face him. “Then we could go down and—”
“For you. We have unfinished business.”
“I s-suppose
we do.” Her voice faltered.
That touch of vulnerability made him feel protective. Damien brushed his lips against hers. He wasn’t going to rush things, but hell, he was on a lanai on Waikiki Beach with one very sexy woman. Not kissing her wasn’t an option.
Her arms came around him, but loosely, tentatively. “Damien, I feel grubby from all the travel and, uh…” And mile-high sex, she meant.
The woman would have sex in the loo with him, but she was too shy to talk about it afterward. It was kind of cute.
“Me, too. A shower would sure feel good.” He dropped another kiss, this time letting his lips linger against hers. Slanting his mouth, licking the delicate outline of her top lip, nibbling the fullness of her bottom lip. Then he eased away. “Want to shower alone or together?”
“Oh! I, uh…” A frown crinkled her brow. “Would you be offended if I said alone?”
He shook his head, disappointed. “After all these hours with me, I can see how you’d like a few minutes of privacy.” Perhaps she had girl stuff to do, like shaving her legs, that she’d just as soon he didn’t see.
She smiled up at him. “Thanks for understanding.”
Okay, that made him feel better. He cupped her face. “Just don’t change your mind.” Then he kissed her gently, lingered on her lips until she responded, then took the kiss deeper, tongue flirting with hers.
Her arms came around him, her body pressed against his, so there was no doubt she could feel the way his cock had come to attention. She wriggled her hips, moving her belly back and forth across the bulge in his jeans, which of course grew. Then she pulled away and said breathlessly, “I won’t change my mind.”
Great. Alone with a hard-on. When she went inside, he remained on the lanai for a few minutes, though the tropical air wasn’t designed to cool a guy down.
He pulled himself together and went inside to open his luggage. The shower was running behind a closed door, and he could imagine Theresa standing under the spray.
He put a handful of condoms on the bedside table, laid out a pair of shorts and a casual shirt for later, then unpacked his computer and plugged it in. Still the shower ran.