Last Night (17 page)

His lips left a moist trail of kisses down her neck to the sensitive base of her throat. This time a real
moan did escape her lips. Oh, Lordy, why couldn
'
t she tell him to stop?

Even when he nudged her legs apart, gently inserting his powerful knee between her thighs, she didn
'
t say anything. How could she? His lips on her neck had her mesmerized, and his strong thigh, slightly rough with hair, was so arousing against her bare skin that she didn
'
t dare speak. If she did, she might beg him to take her right here on the beach.

Suddenly his lips were exploring her breast, his hand cupping its full
ness. Her conservative suit cov
ered her, of course, but she might as well have been naked. He coaxed the soft peak into rigid proof of the effect he had on her. Painful currents of arousal rushed through her, and the surf seemed to be pounding in her temples, beating an erotic tattoo.

She arched upward as he pulled her taut nipple into his mouth, teasing it mercilessly through the sheer fabric. Somehow her hands were in his hair now, holding his head in place, encouraging him shamelessly.

She couldn
'
t tell how long they lay there, halfhidden by the umbrella. In the distance the waves breaking on the beach seemed to be accompanied by the shrill cry of squabbling gulls. Rob raised his head and gazed into her eyes, his own eyes shadowed by thick, black lashes.

"I
'
m the one,
"
he said yet again, his voice raw, a reflection of his desire.

He kissed her, his tongue dancing with hers, a
wild, uninhibited tango that encouraged her to move against him to relieve the sweet ache in her breasts. He kissed her with all the passion he
'
d shown the other times he
'
d kissed her, and yet there was a tenderness in this kiss, a gentleness in the way he held her that hadn
'
t been there before.

The shrill cry of the gulls became a crescendo. Rob lifted his lips from hers. It wasn
'
t gulls that she
'
d been hearing. A gaggle of kids streamed down the trail, followed by their mothers toting sand toys and coolers.

"
There goes the neighborhood,
"
Rob said with a laugh.

He positioned the umbrella so they were concealed from view. Then he looked at her, scanning the length of her body and stopping at her breasts. Beneath the damp fabric her nipples were peaked and her chest rose and fell rapidly. His gaze traveled slowly upward, but got only as far as her lips.

Like liquid heat, his body spread over hers, his strong knee grazing the sensitive skin of her inner thighs as he moved it upward until it could go no farther. Passion smoldered in his eyes.
"
See? What did I tell you? I'm the one.
"

His lips covered hers before she could respond, and his tongue invaded her mouth with trusting pressure as if he couldn't get enough of her while his knee rubbed against her with shocking intimacy.

When he finally raised his head there was more than a hint of triumph in his eyes. "Sorry we can
'
t
continue this. We don
'
t want to give the kiddies a show, do we?
"

Dana finger-combed h
er tousled hair, a little self-
conscious about what had happened. Why, there were people nearby and Big Daddy's spies on the bluff. No doubt they
'
d loved every second even if they couldn
'
t see much.

"Let
'
s get out of here.
"
She rose to her feet, not daring to look directly at Rob. What had he been trying to prove? He
'
d confided in her as if she really meant something to him, but now he seemed totally nonchalant, gathering up their things without a word about what had happened.

What did he really want from her? He must have some reason. Men didn
'
t bare their souls without a motive, did they? Of course not. A woman would be a fool to place too much faith in a man, particularly one who so skillfully manipulated women.

Keep your mind on the blackmailer, she reminded herself as she followed Rob up the serpentine trail toward the top of the bluff. Suddenly there was a thumping in her ears. It was the heat, wasn
'
t it? Boy, was she ever becoming superstitious. If she didn't know better, she'd swear she was hearing the night marchers.

15

G
arth Bradford wheeled himself into his office, stopping just inside the door to let the welcome blast of air conditioning cool him. He loosened his tie and shed his jacket, then unbuttoned the top three buttons of what had once been an immaculately starched and pressed white shirt.

"
I guess I chose the wrong profession,
"
he joked as his secretary watched. Willa had been with him for years; she knew better than to try to help him.
"
The only place in the islands where men wear suits is in court—or in a coffin.
"

Willa laughed dutifully, the way she always did when he came back from court, hot and irritable. Today he'd successfully argued a motion to dismiss a case; he should be happy, but he wasn
'
t. What was wrong with him? He
'
d begun to suspect that winning wasn
'
t enough. Yet it had to be. What else was there?

Cooler now, he wheeled into his spacious office and transferred to his custom-made chair. He gazed
out the high rise
'
s window at Waikiki
'
s sun-splashed surf with its endless parade of tubular waves that tumbled across the bay. Yellow catamarans and orange outrigger canoes glided across the water, competing for waves with sun-bronzed surfers and sunburned tourists on paddle-wheelers. Windsurfers darted between them like colorful butterflies.

A happy sight, he thought, deliberately not looking at the other view his prestigious corner office offered. If he glanced in the other direction he
'
d see Pearl Harbor and in the distance the U.S.
Arizona,
which would depress him even more. A monument to men for whom history had ended as they were making it.

Willa walked in, a discouraging stack of affidavits in one hand and a fistful of messages in the other.
"
Do you know a Vanessa Coltrane? She isn
'
t one of
the
Coltranes, is she? Probably not.
"
As usual Willa chatted on, answering her own questions.
"
Anyone that rich wouldn't be using a pay phone.
"

Was Vanessa calling to tell him Dana was in trouble? Garth wonder
ed. Considering what he was pay
ing Rob for this investigation, he should at least have gotten more than one sketchy report, but he hadn
'
t. He wasn't certain how long he stared at the turquoise water, which beckoned him even though he hadn't been able to go to the beach in years. Willa had to buzz twice to get his attention.

"
It
'
s that Coltrane woman again,
"
Willa told him, and he picked up the phone.

"
This is Garth Bradford.
"
Suddenly he sounded uncharacteristically formal.

"
Thanks for taking my call.
"
The voice w
as low-
pitched with that sultry quality he remembered from last night
'
s conversation.

"
Is everything all right with Dana? How
'
d she take the news?
"

"I told Rob and he broke it to her. I guess she
'
s fine. They went off to the beach this morning.
"

So why are you calling me, Garth wondered, once again imagining the Dana look-alike with long, dark hair as free-flowing as waves on the sea. And long, sexy nails. He didn't know where the image of nails came from, but in his mind
'
s eye he saw Vanessa
'
s soft hands with long, tapering nails polished a dusky pink.

"I'm calling from a phone booth in Makawao. Just a minute while I put some money in, so we won
'
t be interrupted.
"

Garth waited, his interest piqued as he pictured the small town. As a kid he
'
d loved to go to their annual rodeo. Makawao had been built in the early part of the last century. It looked like a western town with its blacksmith shop, general store, and hitching posts for the
paniolos.
The cowboys often rode in from the neighboring ranches. He couldn
'
t visit anymore because his wheelchair refused to navigate the rough-hewn plank sidewalks.

Makawao had lots of upscale boutiques, where artists who favored the secluded up-country sold their work. He tried to imagine Vanessa outside a
trendy boutique housed in an old livery stable, plinking quarters into one of the wooden phone booths that looked as if Wyatt Earp had just used it.

Willa was right: Anyone as rich as Vanessa Coltrane shouldn
'
t be
using a pay phone. Obviously Va
nessa didn
'
t want her call to be overheard, or she might not want someone to see his number on the monthly statement.

"I talked to Rob about you last night,
"
Vanessa announced when she came back on the line. "He said you were the best attorney in the islands.
"

"
Really?
"
Garth didn't know what else to say. He
'
d never been comfortable with compliments, and when one came from a beautiful woman he was even less comfortable.

"I
'
d like you to take my case.
"

He hesitated, wondering if she and Dana were involved in the same problem. Why hadn
'
t Rob told him more?
"
Tell me about it.
"

"I
'
m married to Eric Coltrane. I guess you know the Coltranes,
"
she said, an edge of bitterness in her voice.

Who didn
'
t know the Coltranes? They were famous for their money and their arrogance. Garth had met Thornton Coltrane at several political functions. He called himself Big Daddy and acted like a pompous jerk.

"I want to divorce Eric. Could you help me? I know that
'
s not your field, but this…
this
"
—her voice broke—"isn
'
t going to be easy. Big Daddy will
get the best lawyer money can buy. He
'
s determined to take my son away from me.
"

Garth hesitated; the anguished way she'd said
"
my son
"
tugged at his heartstrings. He imagined her in a hot phone booth, tears in her eyes and light dancing over the shadows of her dark hair. Common sense said to refuse, but he couldn
'
t.

"I
'
ll take your case,
"
he said, careful to keep his tone professional.
Never become emotionally involved;
it was the cardinal rule for any lawyer. "Have you already left your husband?
"

"No. If the Coltranes knew I was leaving they
'
d never let me take Jason. In two days Big Daddy will have almost a hundred people at the ranch for his birthday
luau.
I
'
m leaving then with Dana. There
'
ll be so much going on, no one will miss us. Jason and I will live with Dana.
"

"I don
'
t think that
'
s a good idea. That
'
s exactly where they
'
ll look for you.
"

"You
'
re right,
"
she admitted, a definite quaver in her voice.
"
I don
'
t have anywhere else to go.
"

"Let me think about it. I'll come up with someplace for you two,
"
he said, although he had absolutely no idea where that might be.

T
he smell of smoldering banana leaves that had been dried for months in the sun filled the warm evening air, which for once didn
'
t have nature
'
s blessing—cooling trade winds. The up-count
r
y was usually cooler than the touristy beach area, but not
now. Tonight there was a hot, restless, seething feeling in the tropical air.

Or maybe it was just her imagination.

Dana stood at the edge of the party, gazing across the paddock area to the
imu.
The underground pit had been dug and lined with dried banana leaves. In the Hawaiian tradition a
kalua
pig was being slow-
roasted, while the
paniolos
were tending a spit where a steer w
as being cooked. It would be an
other two days before the feast was ready and all the guests had arrived for the luau.

Dana couldn
'
t imagine any more people at the ranch. Already the
helipad was surrounded by heli
copters, lined up like bees around a hive. Many wealthy Hawaiians owned jet helicopters. It was by far the easiest and fastest way to travel between islands and land in even the remotest of spots like the ranch. Big Daddy owned a sleek Bell Ranger that was as fast as many jets, but Dana wasn
'
t impressed.

Nor was she awed by Coltrane
'
s rich friends, who were gathered tonight outside the main barn for a western party. Dressed in their Saturday night best with polished cowboy boots and fresh leis on the crowns of their hats,
paniolos
sat on bales of hay playing traditional
Hawaiian tunes on slack-key gui
tars and ukuleles.

Dana wandered toward the stables where Big Daddy kept his Arabian horses. Without the trades blowing to muffle the sound, she could hear the lowing of cattle. The nearest range was a great distance
from the house and the barn area was concealed by tall trees. Unless you came down to the paddocks, Kau Ranch seemed more like a resort than a working cattle ranch.

"
Hey, babe. Where ya goin
'
?
"

Da
na turned and managed to smile
at Rob. The last time she
'
d seen him he
'
d been chatting with her sister. It was almost as if she
'
d imagined what had happened between them on the beach. Maybe that was for the best. She certainly didn
'
t know what to say.

They walked into the stables, the scent of horses and fresh hay eclips
ing the smell of smoke. Like ev
erything else on the
ranch, the stables were a show-
place. Every bit of tack was in place, bits shined, leather gleaming. Even the horses were brushed to a glossy finish as if they might step into a show ring at any moment.

"
Let
'
s see what
'
s out back,
"
Rob said, and she knew he wanted to have a private conversation.

"Do you think the stable's bugged?
"
she asked when they were outside.

Rob leaned against the rail of the training ring.
"
Around here you never know.
"
He flashed her his bad-boy grin; she told herself she was immune, but it wasn
'
t true. "I
'
ve reconnoitered and come up with a plan.
"

She folded her arms and stared down at her new cowboy boots. He was going to do it; he really was going to break into Big Daddy
'
s suite.

"After dinner there'll be Western dancing,
"
Rob
said with a smile. "That should be a hoot for the mainlanders who think all Hawaiians do is the hula."

"
Big Daddy isn
'
t very creative. Every year he has a Western night a la Hawaii so they can see what the up-country is all about. Tomorrow night will be the hula show, complete with Fijian fire eaters. The next night at his luau he
'
ll have a big-name band from the mainland."

"
Well, tonight they
'
re serving
okolehao
during the dancing. I figure everyone will be in the bag after one drink.
"

"
You
'
re right.
"
The home-brew made from the potent roots of the ti plant was the same drink they served at Coconut Willie
'
s as Sex on the Beach. Rob could handle it, but she wasn't touching the stuff.