Her eyes darkened with memories of the lovemaking that had inevitably followed the massages. “You haven’t tried the poi,” she murmured.
“I’ll try it later,” he said, toying with the natural pearl adorning her earlobe.
“You haven’t experienced a real luau without tasting poi,” she insisted.
Without taking his eyes from hers, Donovan dipped two fingers into the wooden bowl of purplish-brown starch made from pounded taro root. It tasted like library paste.
“Terrific,” he said. “Can we go home now?”
Thomas, who had been arguing with Margaret over whether the chicken luau was better with taro or spinach leaves, overheard Donovan’s request.
“Oh, you can’t leave yet,” he insisted. “The dancing’s just beginning.”
Donovan sighed as he ran his knuckles down the side of Lani’s face, trailing his fingers along her firm, uplifted jaw. “Later.”
“Later,” she agreed, sensuality swirling in those sea-green eyes.
“The hula began as a religious dance,” Lani remarked, reverting to her best tour-guide fashion. “It reflected the deep cosmic piety of the people, their love and awe of the tremendous forces of nature that surrounded them.”
The percussive rhythms that accompanied the dancers came from wooden sticks struck together, producing sounds like those of a xylophone. Other musicians clicked together small stones like castanets, or shook seed-filled gourds to the pulsating beat, reminding Donovan of Latin-American maracas.
“You’re supposed to watch their hands,” Lani explained. “They tell the story.”
A lissome young thing whose undulating hips were tracing a perfect figure eight momentarily captured Donovan’s attention. “You watch the hula your way and I’ll watch it mine,” he suggested with a wicked grin.
Lani laughed. “It’s just a good thing I’m not a jealous woman, Donovan Quinn, or you’d end up with this bowl over your head and poi dripping off your chin.”
Before he could assure her that she had no reason to be jealous, that she was the only woman he wanted, she was called away for her dance.
“The story Lani will be telling will be a more modern one than the other legends,” Thomas told Donovan as Kalena left with Lani to help her change. “Of the mutineers arriving on the beach and being welcomed by the local population. It’s a grand tale and Lani interprets it in her own special fashion.”
* * *
“I know you’re going to tell me it’s too soon. But I’m so in love with Donovan, Mama,” Lani admitted to her mother as she changed into her costume in her old room in the house.
“Hearts have their own time, just as islands do,” Kalena said. “And I’m so very happy for you. What did Donovan say when you told him?”
“Oh, I haven’t yet. He’s been so occupied with Ford’s disappearance, I didn’t feel the time was right.”
“From what I’ve noticed, while I’m sure he’s working hard on the case, he’s far more occupied with you.”
“It’s just physical.” Lani cringed. “Which, I’m sorry, is TMI when talking to my mother.”
“If I wasn’t familiar with lovemaking, we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” Kalena responded mildly. “Can I take from the fact that you haven’t said anything to him, that he hasn’t told you that he loves you?”
“No, but he told me that he’s never felt the same way with any other woman. And I can feel it.” She splayed her hand over her heart. “Deep in here. If he doesn’t quite know he loves me yet, I’m willing to be patient. Because he will. Because we belong together. Just like you and Daddy.”
Concern filled Kalena’s eyes, but she smiled as she wrapped her arms around her only daughter, her baby, who’d changed during her time away but had re-learned to laugh, and yes, even risk her heart again since she’d returned home.
“I’ve always loved your enthusiasm for life, darling,” she said, as she fastened the pearl button at the back of the silk halter top that was admittedly a bit more revealing than the usual traditional costume. “And it’s obvious that you’ve had quite the positive effect on Donovan. But sometimes people aren’t exactly on the same page.”
“If he isn’t, he’ll get there,” Lani insisted. “I’m willing to wait until he does.” And then, because it was Christmas, and she wasn’t going to allow negative thoughts to intrude, she tied the matching silk sarong skirt low on her hip, then drew in a long, deep breath, then let it out, finding her center, as Ona Chang was always reminding her to do in meditation class.
“You’ll see, Mama. It’ll all turn out wonderfully, and one of these days, before you know it, you’re going to be a grandmother.”
Just the thought of making babies with Donovan had Lani smiling as she ran out of the house and onto the stage to the introduction of the drums.
She’d changed from one of her flowered sundresses into a silky top that bared her shoulders and arms and a sarong thing that fell to mid-calf. Having already been informed that traditional hulas had been for religious purposes, and therefore the wahines dressed more conservatively than women did in the tourist luau dances, Donovan immediately decided that 1) Lani didn’t need a grass skirt to be sexy and 2) he had never realized it was possible for hips to move in the way she was moving hers.
As the story played out, a young, hot man, his oiled body, clad only in some sort of wrapped loincloth, jumped in front of her, representing, Thomas informed him, the arrival of the mutineers.
Her hips moving erotically in a way that had him thinking of Sam Goldwyn’s quote about her grandmother’s filling theaters, Lani danced up to the guy. Then, taking off the red poinsettia Christmas lei she was wearing, she placed it around his thickly muscled dark neck. As the music increased its pace, her hips matched the rhythm, as did the male dancer, who was a great deal more physical, leaping around, stamping his bare feet in what was obviously a mating dance. Which, while making Donovan hot, also had him experiencing something that felt uncomfortably like jealousy.
When she danced off the stage, the male following, Donovan didn’t need a program to know that what came next in the real-life version, would be the sexual union that had created the island’s population.
Then she was back, standing in front of him, holding out her hands and giving him the most dazzling, bone-melting smile he’d ever seen.
“Dance with me, Donovan?”
Glancing around, he realized that while he’d been engrossed in watching her, others, around him, including her parents, had risen to their feet and were doing their own interpretations of the hula. None of which could hold a candle to hers.
“How could I refuse anything you’d ask?” He stood up. “And for the record, you were definitely off the mark when you said you didn’t have any talents. I can’t remember when I’ve seen anything as sexy as you doing that hula.”
“I’m glad you liked it,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning against him, swaying to the music in a way that had the quickening beat of the drums pounding in Donovan’s veins.
“What would you say to continuing this party at home?” he asked hopefully.
She went up on her bare toes to kiss his mouth. “Detective, I thought you’d never ask.”
* * *
The call came shortly after two a.m. Lani dragged her hands through her sex-and-sleep-tangled hair as she listened to Donovan’s end of the conversation from the other room. His short, cryptic statements told her nothing.
“Who was that?” she asked after he’d hung up.
“Nobody important.” He pulled on some jeans. “Go back to sleep.”
“If it wasn’t anyone important, why are you getting dressed? And what are you doing with that?” Her eyes widened as he pulled a pistol out of the dresser drawer and stuck it in the back of his belt.
“I’ve got to go out for a while.”
“Where?”
“Just out. I’ll be back before you know it.”
The gun was the deciding factor for Lani. “I’m coming with you,” she said, throwing back the sheet.
“The hell you are.”
“Donovan, you only got involved in this entire mess because I talked you into helping my best friend. Think how I’d feel if you were hurt.”
“Think how I’d feel if
you
were hurt,” he responded gruffly. The very idea sent ice water into his veins. He grabbed her arms. “Don’t you understand? I care about you, Lani. So damned much.”
His intense expression made her stomach flutter. It wasn’t the L word. But he was coming closer. “I care about you, too, Donovan. And I promise not to get in your way. But please let me come with you.”
As he looked down into her earnest face, Donovan felt as if he were drowning. “Dammit, this is crazy.”
“If you don’t let me come, you know I’ll follow you to wherever you’re going.”
He scrubbed his hand wearily over his face. What had ever made him think he could keep this woman from doing whatever she wanted to do? Donovan was well acquainted with Breslin stubbornness, since her brother possessed more than his share. While Donovan had always admired Nate’s tenacity, he was finding Lani’s frustrating.
He also, for the first time, understood how Nate had felt when Tess’s life had been in danger.
“When we get to the island, you’re staying on the plane,” he said in his toughest, I’m-the-big-bad-detective-and-you’ll-damn-well-do-what-I-say voice.
Sensing his acquiescence, Lani began to throw on her clothes. “What island?” she asked as she pulled a black T-shirt, the better to go unnoticed in the dark, over her head.
“The one where they’re holding Britton. Do we have a deal or don’t we?”
“Whatever you say, Donovan,” she returned sweetly. “Ford’s been here in the islands this entire time?”
“Apparently. When he sobered up and realized he’d mouthed off in the bar, he did a vanishing act and hop-skipped from island to island hoping to put everyone off his trail. It took the goons working for the syndicate who had hired the original hit on the
Wainani
this long to track him down. From what I could find out, they’re holding him until their boss arrives here tonight from the mainland.”
“If they’re holding him captive, then they don’t know where the
Wainani
is,” Lani said thoughtfully.
“Probably not. It’s obvious that they ransacked the shop looking for the sea chart. Britton must have done something right for a change and hidden it in a place none of us have thought of.”
“It appears so. What island is he on?”
“Tern,” he answered, naming one of the northwestern leeward islands.
“Tern Island? But that’s a wildlife refuge.”
“Then these guys should feel right at home,” he countered. “Are you ready?”
“Almost. Won’t it be difficult to hire a plane and pilot at this hour?” she asked.
“We won’t have to, because I’ve had one waiting at an old deserted airfield for the past eight hours.”
“What a lucky coincidence,” she murmured, “that you’d hire a plane this very evening. Even after your visit to The Blue Parrot supposedly didn’t turn up anything very valuable.”
“I found out Britton was probably being held on one of the uninhabited islands,” Donovan admitted. “But I didn’t know until that phone call exactly which one.”
“You lied to me, didn’t you, Donovan?” she asked calmly.
“It was more a lie of omission. One I thought was best.”
“Don’t you think that was rather presumptuous of you?”
The movement of his jaw suggested that Donovan was grinding his teeth. “If it’s presumptuous to want to keep you alive, then yeah, I guess I was being presumptuous.” He glanced pointedly at his watch. “We’re wasting time here, Lani.”
She gave him an acquiescent smile as she pulled up a pair of black pants. Okay, so, being yoga pants, they weren’t all that practical, but they were the only dark ones she owned. “I’m ready whenever you are, Donovan.”
His only response was a muffled oath, but as they walked out to the Jeep, Lani thought she detected a ghost of a smile on his tight lips.
When they reached the airfield that was little more than a patch of dirt, Donovan led her directly to a Piper Apache parked at the end of the runway. When the pilot—a grim-faced man in his mid-to-late thirties with a military haircut—saw Lani, he scowled.
“Don’t tell me that you’re bringing a woman.” His disapproving tone showed exactly how little he thought of the idea.
“She’ll be okay,” Donovan assured him. “She’ll be staying on the plane.”
“It’s your funeral,” the pilot muttered with a shrug as he turned his attention to preflight details.
“Nice crew you’ve hired,” Lani said to Donovan as they boarded the twin-engine plane. “If the pilot’s any example of the hospitality on this airline, I can’t wait to meet the flight attendants.”
“It’s a no-frills flight,” Donovan said, ignoring the snark. “We’re going to have to serve ourselves.”
Lani paused as she buckled her seat belt. “Don’t mind if I do,” she murmured, leaning over to give him a kiss. “Whatever can I do to thank you for including me in this adventure?”
“I’ll accept that as a down payment,” he said, brushing his thumb against her lips. “We’ll discuss how you can pay off the rest of the debt once we get back home.”
Lani wondered briefly if Donovan had noticed his slip of the tongue in calling the beach house home. Deciding that this was no time to bring up what was a perilously personal question, she nodded.
“Whatever you think is fair,” she agreed, as the pilot climbed into the cockpit of the small four-seater plane. Within minutes, they were airborne.
“You know, of course, that your girlfriend’s marrying an idiot,” Donovan said as they raced through the night. Outside the windows, the sky was filled with brilliant, twinkling stars, and down below, the silver moon-gilded water seemed to go on forever.
“I’ll admit Ford never seemed overly brilliant,” Lani agreed. “But don’t you think you’re being a bit hard on him?”
“Not nearly as hard as that syndicate boss is going to be if we don’t get to him first.”
“You said he was coming from the mainland?”
“From Arizona,” Donovan said. “Joe Capelli’s a ruthless Mafia don who grew up in the Phoenix Scorsese and Marino crime families and has been moving north into Nevada, Idaho, and the Pacific Northwest and Canada. We’ve been trying to get something concrete on him for months while I worked on a money-laundering case with Tess.