Rolling in the Deep: Hawaiian Heroes, Book 2 (11 page)

The slender teen made a face of horror at Daniel’s two plates piled high with pulled pork, bread, salads, rice and fruit.

“If I ate like you, they’d have to roll me out to the car,” she retorted.

He shrugged. “If I ate like you, I’d be skin and bones. Oh, wait, that’s what you are.”

She tossed her hair back, smiling smugly. “I’m a size three.”

Zane and Kimo began a lively discussion of their last day of surfing off some point. Zoe joined in.

Daniel glanced at Claire’s plate, considerably more full than Zoe’s. She stopped chewing, her cheeks hot. She was not skin and bones by anyone’s measurement. Did he think she was too fat?

Then he took a huge bite, and she shrugged off her moment of uncertainty. His own body fat was probably low, but there was still a whole lot of man there. Heck, he made her look petite. She started chewing again, enjoying the tender smoky meat and mellow sauce.

“You like our kalua pork?” he asked her.

“Mm-mm, I love it.”

“Specialty of our family. It’s been cooking all night in da imu. You have anything like that in Oregon?”

“Plank barbecue salmon,” she decided. “With sourdough bread and coleslaw. It's great.”

He nodded. “Your father’s a fisherman, yeah?”

“Thirty years, across the Columbia River Bar.”

His eyes narrowed. “He’s a brave man. That’s one of the most dangerous stretches of water in the Pacific.”

“Yes, he is,” she said proudly. “When I was teenager, he used to take me out with him. Once, a storm came up. Twenty-foot waves breaking over the bar. Dad stayed cool, brought the boat in.”

He nodded, accepting her father’s worth. “We must respect the power of the sea.”

Then he ruined her glow of pride by pointing his empty fork at her. “And it’s dangerous here, even though our waters are warm. The surf can be high. A big wave flips you on da shore, you can crack your head on a lava boulder.”

She reached out her finger, and pushed his fork aside. “Don't let the blonde hair fool you, moke. I can actually read the warning signs on the beach all by myself.”

He stabbed his fork back into his dinner, shoveling up a bite of rice. “There are no warning signs at Nawea. Just common sense.” His look said she probably lacked this.

She widened her eyes at him. “Maybe I can wear those little floaties on my arms and a helmet when I swim.”

“Maybe you should stay on da beach, just work on your tan,” he suggested, looking down at her bare arm, close to his. She followed his gaze. His brawny, golden arms made hers look slender and pale.

She looked back into his face, ignoring the curl of arousal in her middle.

“Oh, I’ll do that, too. Can’t wait to wear my new bikinis. Why, Melia says at Nawea no one puts real clothes on.”

His eyes narrowed, and she had to fight the urge to quail before the heat that arced from his ebony gaze. Uh-oh, maybe she shouldn’t tease the big shark.

But she didn’t want to retreat; she wanted to melt forward, across the plastic chairs’ arms that separated them and kiss that stubborn mouth, drawn tight in a fearsome scowl. Wrap her arms around him, her fingers in that sable hair.

He leaned forward, and she moved with him, drawn irresistibly. The others at their table, the party around them, faded into the background as his heat reached out to her, drawing her.

“They didn’t tell you?” he muttered, for her ears only. “Out at Nawea, it’s a tradition—all da wahines are modest and wear muumuus. Even in da water.”

He slapped his hands on the arms of his chair and rose, setting the chair behind him. “Excuse me,” he said to the others. “Gonna go say aloha to some other folks.”

Claire watched him saunter away through the tables, enjoying the rear view in spite of the turmoil of emotion now roiling inside her. She wanted to throw her beer glass after him. Muumuus, indeed. If she remembered right, the missionaries had been the ones to bring the voluminous dresses to Hawaii.

And Daniel didn’t strike her as the sort to appreciate such a haole display of modesty.

She took another hasty drink as she remembered her dream, the way he’d stood in the canoe, so proud and commanding in his brief, colorful robe and headdress. Even here, he sort of stalked, as if he was ready to explode into action. Like a royal guardsman, she thought fancifully. On alert in case a rival island tribe attacked during this time of celebration.

He stopped by a group of other men, and she turned her gaze away with an effort, joining in the conversation at the table.

The sun went down in a wash of lavender and pink, and slowly stars twinkled on in the sky. Someone walked around and lit the tiki torches, their bright flames flickering against the backdrop of pewter sea and glossy shrubs. Japanese lanterns blossomed into light along the edge of the lanai, like graceful pastel pods.

“Come on, Claire, we’ll teach you to hula,” offered Zoe.

Claire laughed but allowed herself to be led to the cleared area, where she kicked off her sandals and stood next to Melia, listening as she and David’s cousins explained how to move her hips. Someone turned up the music that had been playing quietly in the background.

“Just move your feet and hips,” Melia counseled over the Hawaiian melody. “You can learn the hands later.”

“Much later,” Claire retorted, trying to follow the graceful step and sway. But soon she was dancing back and forth with them. It was fun, although she felt like a little girl attempting to keep up in ballet class. Turned out she wasn’t built for that. This, she liked. Of course, the mai tais helped.

“Now the hands,” said Zoe. For a teenager, she was a good instructor. She moved with such grace, Claire felt as if she were trying to imitate a sapling swaying in the breeze, but she gave it her best shot.

She heard clapping and was surprised to look out at the tables and realize the lesson had an audience. She made a face but continued to move. She had always loved to dance, and this was as sensual as any moves to pop or country she’d ever done. Her skirt swished around her upper thighs, the grass soft under her bare feet.

The warm caress of the humid air, the scent of flowers and burning torches, the other women shimmying gracefully, the soft music flowing around her wove a tropical spell. When she noticed Daniel watching from the shadows, she stumbled but somehow managed to get her feet moving again in the now-familiar pattern. Her body seemed to know just how to move even more sensually, her hips taking on a life of their own. This was a dance of enticement, of seduction, she realized, using her hands to beckon gracefully. And she would use it, and any other weapon at her disposal, on the large, dark man watching her with such intensity.

David appeared by his brother’s side. He said something in Daniel’s ear, and then, to Claire’s delight and consternation, both men slid into the dance. They faced the women, provided a counterpoint as they danced back and forth before them, moving with powerful grace.

David moved close to Melia, and the two of them danced, facing each other. They looked so happy Claire felt a bittersweet twinge of envy.

Claire’s gaze locked with Daniel’s. He sidestepped in front of her, moving in slow grace. She could feel the heat radiating from his body. She wanted desperately to move against him, wished they were on a shadowed dance floor somewhere, where she could twine herself around him like a vine and close her eyes.

They gazed at each other as they danced, and for a breathless moment, Claire thought he would reach for her. Then his jaw clenched, and he looked away, over her shoulder.

“Hey, play a fast one,” he called to someone.

The music paused, and then someone yipped, and drums began to pound again, the ukulele following along in a fast, rollicking tune.

Claire tossed her head, pasting a smile on her face as she sauntered over to the side to watch. Melia joined her, flushed and laughing. “Too much for this haole girl.”

Zoe continued to dance. Turning to face the two men, she planted her hands on her hips, and then let out a yip and began to move her hips in an impossibly fast rhythm, her skirt flying. Melia and Claire applauded as she shimmied and twirled.

David stepped back to slide an arm about Melia and watch. Daniel, however, swooped in and lifted his slender cousin high up on his shoulder. She flung up her arm just as he did, and they posed triumphantly to loud applause from their audience.

Oh, man, Daniel Ho’omalu was not only drop-dead sexy, he could be funny and endearing too. Claire pressed one hand to her chest, rubbing over the odd little ache there.

As he set his cousin carefully down, Zoe kissed his cheek and then hurried back to her friends. Claire looked up at Daniel. He gazed back at her, his eyes hooded. He looked as if he was about to say something. She waited breathlessly.

“Claire? Are you ready to go back to the hotel?”

Claire turned, ready to snap at Bella for interrupting. But with one look at her friend’s haunted gaze, Claire set her own concerns aside.

“I’m ready.” She hugged Melia and David, said good-bye to Daniel, who nodded silently, hands in his pockets.

“Zane’s giving us a ride,” Bella said as they walked back across the lawn.

The ride down the mountainside and into town was quiet. The streets were still busy as they neared the waterfront, tourists strolling the lamp-lighted waterfront and thronging the lanais in front of the open bars. Zane dropped them at the hotel with a quiet good-bye, and Claire followed her friends into the big hotel.

In their suite, Grace gave them both a hug and said good night. She looked exhausted.

Claire followed Bella into their room, and sat on the edge of the bed, waiting quietly. Bella sat across from her, digging her toes into the carpet, her hands locked in her lap. She took a long, sobbing breath.

“Daro Kai…is my father.”

“I thought maybe he was,” Claire admitted. “You look like him.”

Bella sniffled loudly. “Yeah, kind of a shock, huh?”

Claire moved over to put an arm around her friend. Bella leaned against her, her head drooping to Claire’s shoulder. “Did you just learn all this tonight?” Claire asked.

Bella nodded. “Tina mentioned his name and that he’d be at the wedding, and Mom knew she had to tell me now, instead of waiting until she spoke with him first.”

Claire thought back to the awkward meeting at supper. “Now you’re related to the Ho’omalus. How weird is that?”

“Really weird. Except that they do have a really big family, with lots of relatives.” They were both quiet for a moment. “Thanks. You’re my true-blue friend.”

Bella hugged Claire, who returned it with an extra squeeze. “Anything for you, Bells. Hey, does Melia know about this?”

Bella shook her head. “David knows. Daro felt he had to tell Homu and Tina. David said he’d tell Melia if I wanted him to, but I told him to wait. She’ll be mad that I didn’t tell her right away, but I don’t want her to worry about anything except her wedding.”

“She’ll be mad for about five minutes,” Claire agreed. “And then it will be all about you. ’Cause that’s how Melia is.”

Bella laughed shakily. “I know.”

She rose and began to undress. Claire did the same, and in a short time, they were lying in their beds, the distant surf the only sound. So much had happened. The day was a blur of images, conversations, music and laughter, punctuated by tears. So much emotion, and it had to be multiplied tenfold for Bella. Claire tried to imagine how she’d feel if she’d grown up without her quiet, rock-steady father, and couldn’t.

Bella seemed to be done talking. Claire closed her eyes, and immediately, Daniel Ho’omalu’s bearded, tattooed face filled her mind’s eye, his ebony gaze boring into hers.

She turned onto her stomach, burying her face in the cool pillow to stifle her groan of sheer frustration. He was the sexiest man she’d ever met, and the most maddening. His fertility dance was so darn hot—made her want to volunteer to have his baby. And she had no intention of getting pregnant for years. That would be yet another way she could end up trapped in Astoria, working at a dead-end job to buy diapers and formula. Nope, she was careful—she was on the pill, and any guy who wanted her better have condoms too.

All in all, she should just stay far away from Daniel. He was a Ho’omalu, and if Melia’s current pregnancy was anything to judge by, they were a fertile family.

But in her mind’s eye, he moved before her again, every movement rife with raw, virile power. Clutching the pillow, she squeezed her thighs together.

Darn, darn, darn. Her common sense said no, but she really didn’t want to listen.

Chapter Seven

Friday, June 14
^th

Melia was the most beautiful bride ever. And sure, loyalty played into that, but still…it was true.

As the sound of ukulele and guitar filled the quiet evening air, Melia paced toward the seaside bower in her deceptively simple gown of ivory silk, her hair caught up in a loose roll held with pearls, a trailing bouquet of ivory orchid, plumeria and greenery in her hands.

Her face glowed with happiness. And David, bless his big heart, had the same look of incandescent joy. He was every inch the Hawaiian bridegroom in his ivory silk shirt and slacks. He wore a plumeria lei, as did his groomsmen.

On David’s other side, Daniel stood, stoic and half-tamed in his silk shorts and ivory shirt with yellow hibiscus blossoms and soft green leaves. He looked good, but she preferred him in the leaf loincloth and crown from her dream. She wasn’t blind.

Zane grinned from behind him. The pastor, a stout Hawaiian man with a sweet smile and a lei over his simple tropical shirt and slacks, stood under an arch trailing with vines and flowers.

Claire and Bella had drawn straws to see who stood next to Melia and held the ring, since neither one of them was maid of honor or any of that nonsense. Claire was fiercely glad she’d received the long straw, because this way she’d been the one to walk up the aisle with her hand tucked into the crook of the best man’s huge arm. Her hand still tingled from the feel of Daniel’s hot, smooth skin, the bulge of muscle underneath.