Hot-Blooded (6 page)

Justin dreams of being the best surfer in the world and of one day taking on Pe‘ahi, or Jaws, as he calls it. I didn’t tell him there’s no way to paddle out there because the waves are too big and fast. He probably knows. He asked if I like to surf, and I laughed. It’s in my blood. Part of my ‘ohana’s traditions. That mischievous glint came back, and he said, “Show me tomorrow night. Leave your brother at home.”

That was all it took for my heart to shoot off on another sprint like it did the first time I saw him.

Tonight I’m waxing my
papa he‘e nalu
, washing my hair, and plucking my brows. I picked out my most flattering bikini to wear. I aim to lay my claim on Justin tomorrow, ‘ohana be damned.

Keeping a thumb in place as a marker, Keahilani laid the book in her lap. This journal was a treasure trove of lost information Keahilani had always wondered about. It was like opening a page in her family’s history book or discovering an album full of forgotten pictures that served as missing pieces to the grand puzzle of her life.

Though Mahina hardly ever spoke of Justin, Keahilani remembered him vividly. Not from pictures—only a few of those survived—but from sitting on his lap during his rare visits home, winding her fingers through his shoulder-length blond hair, and listening to his stories about surfing. Dad had gobs of them. He’d been friends with many of the great surfers of his time. They’d ridden the waves together and fought for Hawaiians’ rights to the beaches. Keahilani had loved him more than anything in the world, and so had Kai and Manō.

Stillness settled under Keahilani’s skin, and she hit the brakes on her daydreams. She hadn’t thought about her dad for ages. Now her chest suddenly ached anew at his loss too.

She closed the book, gathered her mug and dish, and went back inside. Enough feeling for now. She had to get dressed and drive to the bank when it opened at eight. Lots to do today, and she didn’t need sad memories interfering with the business she had to conduct later tonight. There’d be plenty of time to read, relive, and grieve later.

Thankfully, her phone buzzed, reestablishing a solid connection with the here and now. Another text from Kai:
I win. 2 minutes.

Damn Manō for being so efficient.
Impressive,
she sent back while gritting her teeth.
You have plans 2nite?

Hot date. Have fun with the haoles at the shop.

Shit. Scowling, she tossed her phone aside. Kai knew how much she hated giving surf lessons.

And double shit that he had a date. She needed her Enforcers to back her up at tonight’s last-minute appointment with a potential dealer. Manō was busy with someone else, and Bane wasn’t even an option.

You’ll be fine, Keahilani. Don’t worry.

She shook off her irritation and headed toward the bedroom. The rising sun caught her eye as she passed the balcony window, and a small silhouette danced just beyond the glass. The butterfly’s pumping wings waved at her. The black pattern against the orange background formed the shape of a smile.

Chapter Five

Blake’s time on Maui was nearing its end. Six days of schmoozing, boozing, and losing had done him in. Hungover from last night’s festivities in Lāhainā, he woke up after noon in a cheap motel on the seedier end of town. The sheets were cold save for a single, weak heat signature—his own. The woman he’d swindled out of one drink too many at a nameless bar must’ve snuck back to her husband at some point during the night. At least she’d paid for the shitty roach motel digs.

He stared at a suspicious red stain on the ceiling for several minutes, mentally cursing Scott for sending him on a wild goose chase.

He’d been all over the island, rubbing elbows and smoking joints with hippies, surfers, and other usual suspects. The few bits of information he wrangled added little to his existing knowledge of the mysterious new dealership on the island. Buyers verified known sellers (all Scott’s), and that was it. The guy running this operation was doing a damn fine job of making Blake’s life difficult. With only two days left to generate some leads, he’d try a couple surf shops today and see if anything turned up. If not, he might have to go home empty-handed, which wasn’t an option where Scott was concerned.

He sloughed the polyester-blend sheets off his legs and swung his bare feet to the floor. He grabbed the packet of cigarillos off the bedside table and lit up. God, he was tired of this shit. Rubbing his head, he studied the tanned hands in his lap and rubbed the naked left ring finger.

Maybe he should have married Candy after all.

But guys like him weren’t cut out for commitment. Not that he’d have stayed monogamous with Candy. Nope, commitment was for people like Scott. Too bad it didn’t work out for him, either.

He had to pull
something
out of his ass on this job. He needed some positive news to keep Scott’s spirits up and his own pockets lined.

Blake finished the cigar and hosed it in the bathroom sink. After stumbling into the shower, he dressed, consulted his short list of leads, and hit the road. A couple places in Lāhainā looked promising. If nothing turned up at either of those, he’d head down to Mā‘alaea.

He pulled into the drive of a small shop close to the beach. The outside was done up in minimalist red neon that read “Mahina Surf and Dive.” The parking lot was empty except for a lonely Prius. Blake swung his key ring around a finger, clamped it in his palm, and pushed open the glass door.

The subtle scent of coconut permeated the air inside. Cool. Inviting. Hawaiian. Surfboards of all sizes and colors lined the wall. Neat racks displayed bathing suits, wet suits, and diving gear. The far wall featured brand-name surf clothing and footwear.

A young guy came out of the back room. Dark skin, tall, fit. “
Aloha.
” He nodded to Blake, shuffled around under the counter, produced a tub of wax, and called over his shoulder, “Keahilani, you got customers.” He rounded the corner and headed for the surfboards. “She’ll be with you in a minute.”

“
Mahalo
.” Blake feigned interest in some scuba gear.

A woman hurried from the storeroom, sighing heavily. “Come on, Bane. Switch with me. Just for today?” she begged. Then she noticed Blake and paused.

Warm green eyes, the color of a sea turtle, targeted and disarmed him for a split second. They were all he saw at first. Totally threw him off balance, which didn’t happen often. His gaze meandered down her neck to the nice rack peeking out from the turquoise bikini top hiding under an unbuttoned gauzy white shirt.

She folded her arms under her breasts, plumping them, though her huff suggested she didn’t do it to advertise. Low-slung khaki shorts revealed a sparkling belly button ring surrounded by the brown plain of her stomach. Subtle lines of muscle twitched there as she kicked out a hip, drawing his attention farther down to a pair of long, toned legs that could give a man cotton mouth in the middle of a monsoon. Her body was built for surfing. Preferably, body surfing. On top of Blake. Naked.

“Please?” she begged.

Blake started to answer. Oh, wait. She was talking to the kid.

Bane bounced his gaze between Blake and the piece of ass he couldn’t stop staring at. “I have to study.”

“I’m all for education, but you’ve been playing the ‘study’ card a lot lately.” She threw an arm around his shoulder and playfully knuckled his hair with a few rough swipes, then shoved him away.

The guy’s only answer was a wide, white grin. He tamed his short locks back in place.

“Fine, you little shit.” The Hawaiian beauty scratched her brow and turned to Blake. “Can I help you?” A chill prickled the rushed words. Must’ve only had eyes for that other dude.

He smiled and flipped on his charm switch. “I want surfing lessons.”

Her face lit up. “Perfect. You can go out with him.” The
Betty
flipped a thumb toward Bane. “He’s the expert. And he
loves
to surf.”

She looked older than Bane, but there was a distinct resemblance between them. Siblings? Her wavy hair and their similar features suggested they shared a mix of Hawaiian blood with something else. They both stood tall, and though his eyes were dark and hers were liquid green, the upswept shape was identical.

“I may be the expert, but I also have a finance test tomorrow. You’re up.” The kid’s smug grin declared,
Checkmate.

Those emerald pools surged as she shot Bane an exasperated scowl. Feisty. Blake loved women who came with extra kick. He licked his lips and shifted his weight.

The babe looked Blake over slowly. When she reached his face, she said, “Got any experience?”

“Not a lick,” he lied.

A condescending, “Hmm,” snuck up her vocal cords and out through her nose as she sauntered to the rental surfboards. She selected a longboard in the beginner section and walked it over to him.

“What about those smaller ones?” He indicated a blue shortboard.

She shook her head. “Not for you,
Barney
.”

His lip twitched at the gibe. “Why not?”

She hitched her hands to her hips, drawing his attention off-topic again. Damn, she was a walking distraction. “Do you wanna learn how to surf or not?”

“Okay. You’re the boss.” He accepted the clunky longboard with a subdued cringe, and she slipped behind the counter. With this monstrosity in tow, he might not have to fake being a shitty surfer.

“It’s $130 for a private lesson, or you can come back tomorrow when
Bane
,” she spat his name, “will be done studying. He does group lessons for $65. What do you wanna do?”

He leaned in and caught a whiff of her perfume. Plumeria and citrus. His cock stirred. He wouldn’t have minded putting some motion in her ocean. “I’d rather do you.”

She lifted a brow, and a slight grin shook free of her lips. “You asked for it,” she murmured as she rang him up.

When the transaction was complete and the paperwork filled out, she grabbed a board and pointed him to the door. “Back in a couple hours,” she called to Bane, who waved them off.

“What’s your name?” she said as they walked toward the beach.

“Blake. Yours?” He took her board and tucked it under his free arm. She curtly smiled her thanks.

“Keahilani.”

“Hawaiian.”

“Yeah.” She might as well have said, “Duh.”

“You been surfing a long time?”

She smiled. “Family tradition. We surf before we walk.”

Blake glanced back toward the surf shop. “That was your brother?”

“Is it obvious?”

He laughed. “You have the same eyes.”

“No, we don’t.”

“And the sibling love was palpable.” He snickered.

“He—like me—was trying to get out of work.”

“Come on, you don’t
live
for taking out newbies and teaching them how to hump a board?”

“I lost a bet.” She picked up her pace as the beach loomed.

“Damn shame.” Trying to wrangle two unwieldy surfboards forced Blake to straggle behind a few steps. He barely kept up with her fast stride. “I promise to make today’s lesson one you’ll never forget.”

The second her feet hit the sand, Keahilani slipped off her flip-flops and pulled off her shirt, revealing brown shoulders overlooking a pair of mesmerizing boobs. Blake almost dropped one of the boards.

“Leave your stuff here.” She unzipped, bent over, and shimmied out of her khakis, flashing more eye-popping cleavage on the way back up. She straightened, turned to the sea, and shook out her mass of black hair. A pair of hot little turquoise boy shorts accentuated the curves of her perfect ass. Shit, he might not get any information about the new drug dealers out of this chick, but he sure as hell planned on getting a piece of
her
when this lesson finished. If he was lucky, maybe even before. He’d never had sex in the ocean.

Blake grinned and tossed down the boards. He yanked his T-shirt over his head and pumped his biceps once the cotton was free. Lookie there. Caught her checking him out. His expensive gym membership paid off yet again.

Avoiding his face, Keahilani motioned him onward. He resumed his load and followed. As she led him toward the waves, he enjoyed every step of the journey. He took in the swinging, full hips. The hair sweeping the strings of her bikini. The taut, sun-drenched muscles lining her legs. Mmm, mmm, mmm.

What role should he play this time? Potential drowning victim? The testosterone-driven, in-way-over-his-head fool? Gracious, submissive beta? Or should he be himself?

Since he’d already told her he didn’t know how to surf, he’d stick with cocky newb until she gave him a reason to be something else.

“The most important thing about surfing is to respect the sea.” She eased her board from his hands, and the playfulness left her face. “It’s not about impressing your friends or picking up women. It’s about connecting with the currents and falling into rhythm with nature. It’s about bonding.”

He’d like to do some bonding. Bond
age
? Sure, why not?

She caressed the board and turned to the incoming tide. He slunk in next to her. Longing wound its tendrils through her expression. Her stance loosened. “Once you get vertical out there and figure out how it’s done, bow to the wave to give it thanks.”