The hesitant way she moved, the way she clung to him had an unexpected sweetness about it. He thrust deeper and she arched against him, triggering a low growl deep in his throat. Jesus! What this woman could do to him without half trying.
Every muscle in his body was taut with need, making it impossible to think of anything but what it would be like to kiss his way down her neck until he reached those enticing breasts. He imagined his tongue teasing a nipple, sucking gently while his hand explored the softness of her inner thighs and the moist heat waiting there.
He pulled back a fraction of an inch, a noise nearby disturbing him, making him angry. He looked up and saw a woman watching them.
Aw, shit! Here he was sitting on the floor, bras brushing his head, kissing a woman who had become the island laughingstock until he had a world class hard-on and who shows up? His sister-in-law. But Sarah Braxton wasn’t paying any attention to him. She was staring with unabashed curiosity at Lucky.
7
L
ucky gazed out the car window at the ocean. The last rays of the sun gilded the water, turning it a burnished gold. They had driven through the greenbelt of hotels and luxury homes in Wailea and were now on a less-traveled road marked Makena Beach. The land here was arid, its volcanic history more evident than in the lushly landscaped Wailea.
She wanted to ask where they were going, but didn’t. Greg had been strangely silent since Sarah Braxton had appeared. His beautiful sister-in-law was the same woman Lucky had noticed earlier. Sarah had been wonderful, helping Lucky choose enough clothes to last until the trial.
While they had shopped, Greg waited at the register. He’d barely thanked Sarah as he paid for Lucky’s clothes. Sarah had been gracious, ignoring his rudeness—or perhaps she was used to it. Lucky remembered Greg insisting he had no family, yet she learned that he had two nephews and a niece. Sarah had proudly told Lucky about her children as she helped her, but she never mentioned a rift between her family and Greg.
Lucky didn’t say anything about the tension. This could be
like the mongoose—a gap in her memory. Maybe there was some clue as to what was going on here, and she just didn’t understand.
She ventured a look at Greg. His eyes were on the single
-
lane road that was little more than dirt tracks now. Here the houses were spaced far apart and separated by black rock beaches. She wondered where they were going but assumed he was driving her to his home.
Why wasn’t he talking to her? He hadn’t said two words since Sarah had appeared. Why had he kissed her? He hadn’t wanted to. She’d made the first move, overwhelmed by the need to be held and comforted.
A hot flush of shame inched up her neck the way it had in jail when she’d discovered that she was the local freak. The memory ate at her like a corrosive acid. She’d tried to maintain her dignity, but it had been such a degrading experience, one she knew she’d never forget.
“Do you know what happens if you don’t appear in court next week?” Greg asked unexpectedly.
She faced him with a surge of relief. At last he was talking, but what was he getting at? Was this something else that she didn’t understand? “I’ll be there. Sarah helped me select a dress.”
Greg kept staring straight ahead, concentrating on the rutted road. “If you don’t show, I forfeit your bail. I’ll lose my house.”
It took her a second to realize that he thought she was going to run out on him. She didn’t understand him—not for one second. One minute he was acting as if she was special, and the next she was a criminal. Obviously, the man couldn’t make up his mind.
“I’m not going to run away,” she said, anger reflected in each word. “I’ll be there. By then your brother should have found out who I am. I’m certain that my family will explain that I didn’t steal that car. You’ll be off the hook. They’ll repay you for the clothes.” She held up the receipt that she’d been
clutching in her hand. “I’ll see that you get back every penny. I swear.”
Greg cocked his head to the side and studied her for a moment, but he didn’t say anything.
She realized her tone had been too sharp. Where did such anger come from? Why was she alienating the only person who’d helped her? He had even put up his home so she could get out of jail. Who could blame him for being concerned that she would run out?
“You’ve done so much for me,” she said, em
otion breaking in her voice. “
Thank you for buying me clothes and posting bail. You’ve been so wonderful. I would never run out on you.”
“I didn’t think you would. I just wanted you to know what’s at stake.”
He was staring at her so intently that she wondered again if she was missing something. “My life’s at stake. If I can’t prove I didn’t steal that car, I’m going to prison. That’s a three-year minimum sentence. But I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”
Greg nodded slowly but didn’t say anything more. Lucky sensed that he was a man unaccustomed to showing his emotions. He didn’t like her to touch him; she’d already noticed that. When she’d put her arms around him in Kmart, it had been like hugging a cement block. He’d quickly changed, of course, but she suspected it was against his better judgment. “I’m going to get you the best lawyer in the islands.”
“I’m sure the public defender will be just fine. He—”
“
Forget it.
”
Greg cut her off with a wave of his hand.
“
Tony Traylor controls Maui. He’s head of the joint council. That’s like being a mayor, only more powerful. You’re accused of stealing one of his rental cars. He’s not going to let the DA cop a plea for a lesser charge. You’ll get the max unless we hire a big gun.”
His support brought tears to her eyes. She gazed out the open window at the turquoise sea, blinking rapidly. Greg might yo-yo, believing her one minute and doubting her the next, but she knew that he was going to stand by her. To him she wasn’t
a freak—Pele’s ghost—to be ridiculed and humiliated. She was a person who deserved a chance.
One day, she’d be able to repay him.
A jumble of confused thoughts and feelings assailed her. In so many ways, she felt close to Greg Braxton, but in reality, she must have been this close to another man. A husband? A lover? Wasn’t there someone, somewhere, who cared about her at least as much as this stranger?
There had to be, she reasoned, yet she had no memory of another man. There was only Greg. She might have been held and kissed by someone else, but she would never remember it. The thought generated a gnawing ache deep inside where her memory should have been. She tamped down the painful longing. That part of her life was gone.
The kiss in Kmart was really her first kiss, Greg the first man to hold her. To care about her. It was impossible for her to imagine feeling this strongly about another man. A crucial part of her that she hadn’t known was lost had been found. No, she thought,
discovered
was a better word. There was amazing physical pleasure in being kissed.
Lucky ventured a glance at Greg, wondering what he thought about the kiss. His jaw was set like a steel trap, and he was staring straight ahead. Obviously, he’d overheard her talking to Dodger and had felt the need to comfort her. It wasn’t his first kiss; it hadn’t been that special.
Pull yourself together, whispered a voice in her head. You’ve got to be strong to face the ordeal ahead. Stop cry
-
babying to the dog and expecting Greg to hold you.
Greg slowed the car and turned onto a drive that led down to the water. On the point, surrounded by a black volcanic rock beach, stood a house. The thoroughly modem glass-walled home seemed lonely, isolated. How far away was the nearest house? Half a mile at least, she judged.
“You aren’t bothered by neighbors, are you?” she asked.
“There’s a building moratorium. If they lift it, you can expect
hotels with flocks of tourists frying their bodies, sipping Mai Tais, and bitching about taxes.”
“That would be a shame,” she said, looking around. There was just enough light seeping over the horizon from the setting sun to see the tiers of hills that stretched up from the beach to the mountain dominating the skyline: Haleakala. Close to the house the terrain was volcanic, with tufts of wild grass and white ginger bringing color to the dark rocks. Higher up were acres of pineapples and cane fields that swayed in the w
ind, reminding her of spring corn
.
“What’s that?” Lucky pointed to a horseshoe-shaped outcropping of rock that rose from the ocean not far from shore.
“
That’s the Molokini Crater. It’s a cone of an extinct volcano. Like Haleakala, only smaller. It’s a dive site these days.”
She started to say something but stopped, spotting the car as they rounded the bend. The small white Bronco was marked Maui Police Department.
It was so quiet in their car that Lucky could hear her heart beating in double-time. Oh, no! They’d come for her. They couldn’t arrest her, though, could they? She was out on bail. Maybe there was a new charge. Maybe they’d found out something about the hiker.
Get a grip, she told herself. Don’t panic.
“It’s my brother.” Greg pressed the opener and the garage door slowly rose. “You take Dodger inside while I talk to him.”
L
eaning against the squad car, Cody waited for Greg to come out of the garage. He had been back on the island for only an hour, and all hell had broken loose. At headquarters, he’d gotten word that Greg had posted Lucky’s bail. Minutes later, Sarah had called. What on earth had Greg been doing sitting on the floor of Kmart kissing that weirdo?
The island was a small place, really tiny when you subtracted all the tourists. It was a working stiffs idea of paradise. Great
climate, chamber of commerce views. And sky-high prices that came with a tourist economy. The locals shopped at Kmart.
What had happened in the store would be around the island in a heartbeat. Not that he cared about gossip—he’d been the center of the juiciest scandal to hit the island in a decade. But he didn’t want his brother to lose everything because of this woman. Who knew what Lucky was up to?
This was one helluva case. It had all the earmarks of an aberration in paradise—a real crime. He would have enjoyed every second of the investigation if Greg hadn’t been involved.
Cody shook his head, his eyes on the isolated house. Out here Cody felt cut off from the rest of the world. How did Greg stand it? It was lonely and desolate. The wildness of it, the loneliness suited his brother in a way that Cody would never understand. Give him the up-country, with its grassy meadows and cowboys and farmers. People. Give him people, not a house at road’s end, facing the sea, its back toward civilization.
Greg stalked out of the garage, a sullen expression on his face. Cody inhaled sharply, anxious to avoid a confrontation. “I hear you posted Lucky’s bail.”
“So?” Greg challenged him.
Cody realized his brother wasn’t going to make this easy. Did he ever? “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“Your jailer was letting half the island in to get a peek at Lucky and charging them five bucks a crack.”
“I heard about it when I got back. I’ve taken care of him.”
“Lucky could file a suit for violating her civil rights and bankrupt this island.”
Cody mopped his brow with the back of his hand. Already Tony Traylor was screaming to the heavens about his brother springing Pele’s ghost. Like a snake, Traylor had slithered into the political arena, shedding his morals early on. He’d sacrifice Cody rather than lose one vote.
“Stay out of this, Greg. She’s nothing but trouble.”
“Lucky has amnesia. She needs help. Treating her like a criminal is the worst thing for her.”
“There’s some controversy about her diagnosis,” Cody began, and was rewarded with a slight uplifting of Greg’s brow. “She still has her sense of smell.”
“What the hell does that have to do with it?”
“I was just in Honolulu. The doctors there sent her test results to several university hospitals and got mixed opinions. Some agree with the neurosurgeons who examined Lucky here, but others felt the Hoyt-Mellenberger syndrome doesn’t apply. They say with true memory loss, your sense of smell goes. When they tested Lucky, she could still smell things.” Silence followed his announcement. The only noise was the rush of the surf against the rocky beach. Greg always had been a lone wolf, a man with a wild streak, but tonight he seemed different. Cody couldn’t quite put his finger on the change.
“It could be a fluke,” Cody admitted, feeling the need to fill the silence. “Hoyt-Mellenberger is rare, and no two cases are alike, but the shoe makes—”
“What shoe?”
Didn’t Greg know about the hiker? He must have left to certify Dodger before the story broke. It was dark now, only the light of the rising moon illuminating the darkness. It was difficult to tell what Greg was thinking as Cody told him about the dead hiker and the shoe that had suddenly turned up a year later.
“There’s probably a reasonable explanation,” Greg said when Cody finished.
“Really?” Cody told himself to be patient, quickly counted to three, then continued. “That hiker fell from the trail near the Iao Needle. She wasn’t trotting around up there wearing one shoe. And she had some weird bugs in her hair.”
“Bugs?”
“Yeah, bugs, like dead bodies. It was just that no one had seen those kind before.” Cody shook his head. “Know what I think? Someone drove her up to the trail head, carried her up a ways, and threw her over. It was supposed to look like an
accident.”
“Lucky isn’t strong enough to carry anyone up that trail,” Greg insisted with characteristic stubbornness.
“I didn’t say she did it, but I do think she knows something she isn’t telling. I’ve sent her prints to the FBI. Let’s see what comes back from their new database.” He opened the car door, saying over his shoulder, “I’ve posted Lucky’s picture at the airport and with the harbor masters. She can’t get off the island.”
“
She hasn’t got any money to buy a ticket,” Greg responded, but he didn’t sound nearly as confident as he had earlier.