Rolling in the Deep: Hawaiian Heroes, Book 2 (35 page)

She nodded. “But you don’t always have to be a hero,” she murmured to him. “You can just be my man. That’s enough for me.”

He took a deep, shuddering breath and let it out. “Good to know. Cape gets heavy, yeah?”

She nodded, pressing a kiss to his throat.

He stroked her hair, his calloused fingers catching on the silky strands. “Tita…I’ll try to change for you, but I…you gotta know going into this that I—I’m not always easy to live with.”

“Mm-hmm,” she murmured encouragingly.

He stroked her hair again. “I’m a rough, mean moke…even for a tough tita like you to put up with. I’m not…used to having anyone around. Promise me that if I ever…you know…scare you, you’ll tell me.”

Claire bit her lip, trying to keep still. But in spite of herself, a small noise escaped her. He stilled. “Are you
laughing
at me?” he demanded incredulously.

She gave in, letting the laugh roll up through her. “Y-yes. Oh, Daniel.” She patted his face, feeling the tension in the bands of muscle over his wide jaw as he gritted his teeth. “You don’t really know yourself at all. You’re not a bad, mad warrior, sweetie. You’re a moody, broody artist.”

He snorted. “You make me sound like a damn diva.”

“No. Remember the day I brought you cookies from Leilani? I walked right into your studio. You were so wrapped up in bringing that shark to life, you didn’t even know I was there.”

She leaned over him, her hair falling on his face. “You don’t have to change for me, kanaka. Just promise me one thing.”

“Yeah?” he asked a little suspiciously.

“That you will never, ever”—she paused dramatically—“call your man
ō
again when we’re diving.”

He gave a snort of laughter and then touched her face. “You’d dive again, after what happened?”

She nodded. “With you by my side, yeah. I can’t imagine those Helmans will ever want to come back to Hawaii.”

“No, ’cause I don’t think there are any left,” he agreed. “They have a sister, but no one’s ever heard anything about her—she wasn’t involved in the business. And if any of their minions try to worm their way in here again, we’ll be waiting for them, believe it.”

“Minions,” she repeated. “Ooh, I love the way you say that. Just like a real superhero. And, omigosh, that reminds me. I have a present for you too.”

“For me?” he sounded disconcerted. “You bought me a present? When?”

She traced a pattern on his skin, too self-conscious to meet his gaze. “Oh, it’s nothing special. Just…a few weeks after I came home. I was walking by a second-hand store near campus, and I saw something.”

She slipped away from him and leaned over to rummage in the top drawer of her nightstand. Shyly, she handed him the small paper bag and then perched on the edge of the bed as he opened it.

He pulled the small plastic figure from the bag and stared at it. “’Aue. It’s Aquaman.” He grinned, his white teeth flashing. “Damn, I didn’t think there were any of these left. I’ve tried to find them on the Internet.”

He cast her a gleaming look. “Mahalo, tita. Best damn gift you could have given me. Well, other than you.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. The figure had cost her nearly two hundred dollars that she didn’t have, but she’d taken one look and known she had to buy it for him.

“I sort of fantasized about coming back,” she said. “In spite of Kanaloa’s warning. And wearing a bikini, to make you eat your heart out. And then, if you were nice, I’d give you the Aquaman.”

“Really?” He looked up at her, his eyes gleaming. “Tita…I would have crawled across the lava plain west of Kona to see you in a bikini again.”

She beamed, pleasure at his praise glowing inside her, a warmth that would never dissipate. She tapped the jaunty plastic figure he held in his huge hand.

“This is you. You’re a hero worth chasing, Daniel Ho’omalu. I’ll follow you anywhere, even into the deep.”

About the Author

Cathryn Cade lives in the Pacific Northwest with her tall, handsome husband and a golden retriever named Buddy. She loves to read and write romance, cook with fresh seafood and take long trips to Hawaii. She has been writing romance since she can remember, and is thrilled that she can now include her favorite islands in her stories.

Please visit her at:

www.cathryncade.com

www.twitter.com/CathrynCade

cathryncadesblog.blogspot.com/

www.facebook.com/cathryncade.author

www.samhainpublishing.com/authors/cathryn-cade

www.goodreads.com/author/show/2796058.Cathryn_Cade

Look for these titles by Cathryn Cade

Now Available:

Orion

Tyger, Tyger, Burning Bryght

Her Commander

Prince of Dragons

Deep Indigo

Hawaiian Heroes

Walking in Fire

Rolling in the Deep

Born to defend his people, he will sacrifice everything…for her.

Walking in Fire

© 2012 Cathryn Cade

Hawaiian Heroes, Book 1

Nawea Bay, a remote Hawaiian paradise, is just the haven Melia Carson needs to escape the chill of heartache. Instead, she finds herself swept up in a tropical heat wave, fueled by her unexpected attraction to a handsome native she meets on a snorkel tour. 

He’s big, powerful, hot enough to melt her defenses—and he’s not all he seems. How else could he survive an injury that should have killed him…and why does she dream of him garbed in ancient native dress and wreathed in flames?

David “Malu” Ho’omalu is on the Big Island to find and destroy a cache of dangerous designer drugs before they can be sold to his people. Fending off amorous female tourists is part of the job, but one look in Melia’s blue eyes, and his instincts scream that she is his.

As Melia surrenders to the desire burning between them, she discovers more than a fiery heritage that defies modern logic. She discovers a man who would descend into
the molten
heart of the volcano to protect his island. And her…if she can find the strength to trust her heart to him.

Warning
:
Hot, hot Hawaiian hero with volcanic passion on his mind. Better pack a heat-proof bikini for this island paradise.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Walking in Fire:

Malu set the cooler down and leaned back on the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. His biceps bulged. Melia realized she was staring again and looked quickly away. Darn it, she had to quit that. She had the mad urge to race out of the house and dive into the water again, to quell the flush of heat under her skin—equal parts arousal and embarrassment. She always seemed to be flushed around him, as if heat emanated from his very persona.

“You just saying dat because I have to cook so much when you’re here,” Leilani said to Malu, but she was smiling. “Dis man eat for days.”

“Hmm,” Melia answered. Hard not to notice when he sat across from her eating two helpings to the others’ one—he obviously had to fuel that physique.

“Maybe Melia cook for us, yeah?” He was laughing at her again, darn him. Not out loud, but that sensual mouth was tilted up at the corners, and his dark eyes held a suspicious gleam. She’d like to cook for him all right—a nice serving of ipecac. “
Melia paha
.”

Leilani laughed easily, then looked quickly at Melia. “Sorry, not laughing at you.
Malia paha
mean ‘maybe’. Close to your name.”

“Meh-lee-ah,” Malu said, rolling her name on his tongue. “You have a Hawaiian name.”

“Yes. It means plumeria. My parents spent their honeymoon here,” she said. “They liked the name.”

“So, you cook Hawaiian?” he went on, still with that gleam in his eyes. “Know any good Spam recipes?”

Melia frowned, wary of a trap. She knew the canned ground ham product was an island favorite, but she’d never actually eaten it. Malu grinned, and she narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m sure I could come up with some recipes, just for you.”

Leilani shook her head at him. “She cook fresh, not canned. Anyway, dis girl here on vacation.”

“Yes, I am. Nice talking to you, Leilani.” Without looking at Malu, Melia turned and sauntered out the nearest door, which turned out to be the one to the rear lanai.

Behind her, she heard Malu say something to Leilani. Both of them laughed. She wondered if they were laughing at her, and then rolled her eyes at herself. That was so junior high. And Leilani was nice, even if Malu was a big recipe gone bad.

It was dark on the back lawn, just the light shining from the windows. The only sounds were the rustling of foliage and a few frogs piping in the forest.

Melia flipped her hair off her shoulders and blew out a long breath. Good grief, why did she let him fluster her this way? She wandered slowly along the lanai. The soft caress of the humid air and the sweet scents wafting on it soothed her. Walking on, she stopped to sniff a familiar acrid odor, then wrinkled her nose. Eww, some of the group were smoking pot, right up in the trees. She heard Clay or Jimmer laugh, and shook her head. What a useless waste of time, not to mention illegal.

She followed the faint sounds of island music around the corner. Frank was perched on the porch railing, playing a small ukulele. He smiled at her as she walked into the light of the tiki torches stuck in the garden. Curling up on one of the rattan loungers, she listened to the soft melody and let her mind drift.

She was bothered and bewildered by her attraction to Malu. She’d better handle it before she was bewitched. The Big Island was exerting its magic on her. That was it—he was part of the tropical ambience, like the lava flows, jet black against the green-and-gold mountainsides, like the turquoise water in the bay, the surf curling into frothy white on the golden, sandy beach.

Just another Hawaiian native, as beautiful as the fish eddying over the reef, the sea turtles paddling slowly along or the dolphins leaping joyously from the waves, as full of quiet power as the mountain that towered behind them. Hopefully without the menace.

Realizing the poetic nature of her thoughts, she blushed, glad no one else could see in the dim, flickering light of the torches. Good grief, next she’d be putting it to music and playing the ukulele in the moonlight.

She opened the nearest door into a quiet sitting room now in shadows. She bumped an end table, and something fell with a rustle to the woven floor mat. Melia fumbled for the nearest lamp and snapped it on. A sketchbook lay on the floor, a page poking out as if torn.

Bending, she picked it up and opened it, then blinked in surprise as she gazed at a pencil sketch of the bay, obviously done by someone on the front lanai. The sketch was rough, as if it had been done quickly, but even to her untutored eye, it was very good.

She sank onto the rattan settee next to the lamp and turned the page. Another sketch of the bay, like the first, only a little more refined, the black lava rocks shaded in, the palm trees textured. Were these by the same artist whose work hung on the walls?

She flipped to the next page and the next. To her disappointment, all were bare, except the loose one. As she pulled the page carefully from the sketchbook, she caught her breath. This sketch was of a woman. She was seated on a rock, foliage behind her, her head bent. She held a single flower in her hands, and she looked down at it with dreamy concentration. Her shoulders were bare, a few vague lines suggesting she was nude.

Melia narrowed her eyes. The woman’s hair was undefined, her features only a few tender lines. And yet she looked somehow familiar.

The edge of the paper was crumpled, as if the artist had begun to discard it and then changed his or her mind. A little guiltily, Melia set the sketchbook back on the end table, the sketch of the woman still in her hand.

The artist had nearly thrown it away. Surely he or she wouldn’t miss it if she just enjoyed it while she was here. She’d return it before she left.

She went to her room. After setting the sketch carefully on her bedside table, she readied herself for bed, her mind full of the activities and tensions of the day. When she closed her eyes, she felt as if she were still in the water, being rocked gently by the waves. She turned onto her side and hugged the extra pillow to her.

She dreamed of Malu.

He lounged in the shade of the beach palms, smiling lazily at her, even though Cherie and Jacquie snuggled close at his sides in their bikinis.

Melia walked toward him, drawn by a force beyond her control. His dark eyes slid down over her in a caress as strong as if he had stroked her with his hand. Heady triumph filled her—he wanted her, even with the other women available.

He beckoned her with one finger.

Her heart beat in slow, heavy strokes. She knew what he wanted. Slowly, she lifted her hands to the ties of her bikini top and unfastened them. The top dangled from her fingertips, then fell to the sand, leaving her breasts bare to his gaze. Her nipples hardened, thrusting toward him, feeling his gaze like a caress as soft as the fresh flower lei she wore.

He gestured again, and, naughty excitement flooding her, she hooked her fingers in her bikini bottoms and slowly pushed them down until they fell in a soft puddle around her bare feet. As his hot gaze fell to her mons, she caught her breath, trembling with the force of her excitement and arousal. She felt daring, free, and so turned on her legs were weak.

In the perverse way of dreams, she suddenly realized that Dane sat nearby, watching her with an enigmatic look on his tanned face.
Clay and Jimmer were there too, smiling avidly.

Uncertainty filled her. She looked back at Malu, and he smiled as Cherie and Jacquie pressed close to him, their hands all over him.