Walking in Fire: Hawaiian Heroes, Book 1 (3 page)

But then color caught her eye, and she turned, even more enthralled. A large painting hung on the wall, depicting the mountain and the house as she’d seen it from the boat. It was a gorgeous, impressionistic scene, with vivid colors and a deep, mysterious background. Melia stood for a moment, drinking it in. How had the artist managed with such rough strokes to impart both the sheer joy of the little bay and the brooding danger of the mountain behind it? She shivered, as she had looking up at the mountain from the boat. She peered at the signature on the corner of the painting, but it was an unreadable scrawl.

“You like?” Leilani asked.

Melia jumped. She’d forgotten all about the other woman. “It’s beautiful. How did you say it? Ka nani.”

Beaming, Leilani gestured at the wall behind Melia. “There is another.”

Melia turned. She caught her breath. This painting was much smaller, of a single red blossom. A hibiscus, the state flower. The bright petals shone as if the sun poured over it, the yellow stamen springing exuberantly from the flower’s golden center.

She sighed. “So pretty. I’d love to have something by this artist.”

Leilani smiled. “Who knows, maybe one time you will. They’re for sale in galleries.”

Melia doubted it. She was sure she couldn’t afford even a tiny painting by someone that good.

“There are more paintings around the place,” Leilani said cheerfully. She led Melia past the staircase to a small room and bath overlooking the side lawn.

Melia dropped her duffle bag on the rattan bench. The bed was covered in a handmade quilt with traditional Hawaiian flower appliqués in soft peach. With the rattan nightstand and dresser, the settee with flowered cushions added to the tropical ambience.

And, as Leilani had promised, another painting, this one of a single white plumeria, huge and lush, hung over the bed. She smiled at it. Perfect—her namesake flower. Melia was Hawaiian for plumeria. Her parents had honeymooned in the islands.

The big, sliding window stood open to catch stray breezes wafting through the tangle of banana trees, plumeria and vines pressing in on the house. The air was heavy with the scent of the waxy plumeria blossoms.

“Your house is lovely,” she said.

“Oh, Frank and I just live here, work for the owners,” Leilani said. “They own a big chunk of land here.”

“It’s so private.” Melia looked out the window at the wild scene. “Does anyone live above you on the mountain, or is it all preserve?”

“A few locals,” Leilani said, moving toward the door. “Frank will show you trails, but you don’t hike up too high, okay?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to bother anyone,” Melia agreed.

Leilani went out, leaving Melia looking after her thoughtfully. There’d been an odd note in the other woman’s voice when she mentioned the “locals” on the mountain. Well, maybe it was her family. Many Hawaiians must resent having tourists traipsing everywhere. If she went for a hike, she’d be careful not to trespass.

Inhaling a deep breath of the plumeria scent, Melia lifted her hair off her neck, damp with perspiration. She couldn’t wait to get in the water.

Unzipping her new turquoise duffle, she pulled out the swimsuits she’d purchased in Kona and laid them on the flowered quilt. One was her usual style, a modest green tankini with a small leaf pattern and a matching sarong. The other was a bikini of soft coral with a flowered sarong. She fingered it, tracing the edge with her fingertips. Then she shook her head resignedly. Who was she kidding? There was no way she had the nerve to wear the bikini. She’d bought it on a whim, full of exuberance at being in the tropics, but it was just too daring.

She stripped off her clothes and wriggled into the green suit. There was no full-length mirror in the room, and she smoothed her hands a little nervously over her flaring hips. Then she rolled her eyes at herself as she tied the sarong around her waist. The tankini had looked fine in the boutique mirrors. She could use some more tan, but her skin was smooth, and she was in pretty good shape. The top made her breasts look nice.

Besides, no one was going to be looking at her with the other two girls around. Smoothing sunscreen lotion on her bare skin, she pictured Malu turning to look at her as she stepped into the water, and let out a huff of frustration. Why was she even considering his opinion of her appearance? He was just eye candy. Probably a man-slut, like Grant.

The thought of her ex-boyfriend tightened her face as she picked up the brightly flowered beach towel laid out on the rattan side table. This trip had been planned for the two of them. She hadn’t wanted to spend so much on her ticket, but he’d charmed her into it. Except she’d walked into Grant’s apartment early for a dinner date a few weeks ago and found him with his buxom brunette sous-chef—naked. They’d had a laptop out, but they weren’t exactly using it to go over recipes.

To top it all off, he’d told Melia that if she were more spontaneous, ready to try new things, he wouldn’t have had to turn to another woman. It was only later, when the hurt and humiliation subsided with the help of her best friends and a bottle of wine, that Melia realized he’d tried to justify his sleazy misbehavior by blaming her.

Bella and Claire had sympathized, handed her tissues and offered to trash his apartment and decorate his sports car with cheap lipstick. Actually, Claire had offered to break his nose. She could probably do it too. Of the three of them, she’d done the best in the self-defense class they’d taken together, a gift from Bella’s mother Grace, who worried about the three of them in the big city. Melia had regretfully turned down the offers of mayhem but let them convince her to keep her reservations. Grant could eat his ticket, for all she cared.

Neither of her friends had been able to come with her—Bella had reservations to go to Maui the next month herself on business, and Claire was a cash-strapped grad student who could only dream of the islands for now.

Melia looked around the room with a determined smile. She was an adult. She didn’t need a girlfriend to lean on. And if she did, they were only a text away.

She would enjoy the experience, the beautiful island, and even the resident Hawaiian hunk. She just needed to remember he was part of the island magic, to be sampled with caution, like the mangoes that gave her a rash if she ate too many. Not that she planned on eating him. Whoa, down, girl.

After thrusting her feet into her leather flip-flops, she grabbed her things, and hurried out of the room.

The others were all in the water, swimming and floating around the shallow turquoise waters of the bay. Frank was on the dock, sorting out piles of snorkel gear for them.

Melia dropped her towel on one of the rustic lounge chairs grouped on the upper edge of the little beach. Small tables sat between the chairs, and she smiled as she saw someone had placed shells on each one, filled with sprays of plumeria and some silvery grass.

As she untied her sarong, it slithered out of her hands onto the sand. Bending over to pick it up, she saw a plumeria blossom on the sand. She lifted it to her nose and inhaled the sweet fragrance.

Her skin prickled with self-consciousness, as if someone were watching her. She looked around quickly, but no one was paying attention to her. Jacquie squealed as one of the men splashed her, and Cherie was smiling at Malu.

Feeling silly, Melia dropped the flower on her sarong and walked through the foaming surf line into the water. It was cool on her hot skin. Rocking in the shallow waves, she walked out farther, gasping as the water hit her midriff. She scanned quickly for any unwanted underwater visitors before she went in any farther. The clear water revealed only clumps of lava rock dotting the bay and a turtle paddling at the far end of the shoreline, moving its flippers lazily in the water.

Jimmer and then Clay surfaced a few feet away and grinned at her, water streaming from their tanned faces.

“About time you got here,” said one, swiping water from his face.

“Yeah, if you need any help with strokes, let me know,” said the other. Good grief, did they do everything together, even hit on women?

“Thanks, guys. I’m a pretty good swimmer.” It was nice to be noticed, but neither of them interested her. Diving in, she let the sea envelop her, her hair floating out behind her as she kicked underwater as far as she could go, then rose to the surface, tipping back her head and wiping the water off her face with her hands. She licked the salt taste from her lips, smiling. Of course she’d known the ocean was salty, but the taste still surprised her.

She lay back in the water, letting its natural buoyancy cradle her as she moved her arms and legs just enough to stay afloat. Oh, this was heaven. She could spend the whole day in the water. The ocean off of Oregon stayed chilly, suitable only for quick dips on the hottest days of summer.

The scene was idyllic, the yellow house framed in green foliage and bright flowers, the mountain a bulwark of green and black behind it, the bay with its frame of rocks, surf and palm trees. Over it all soared the sky, a bowl of blue reflected in the deeper color of the sea beyond the bay. The only clouds were those capping the mountain, and a few wisps over the south end of the island.

And through the middle of it, Malu sauntered down the path in his red swimming trunks, the embodiment of Hawaii. He carried a small cooler in one hand, an open bottle of beer in the other. He was still wet from the sea, his brown skin glistening. As he set the cooler down on one of the graceful metal tables and took a drink from his beer, his gaze met hers over the bottle.

She pointedly turned her back on him and swam across the bay to the far side. She looked carefully before putting her hands and feet on any of the natural steps in the rock. According to the guide book she’d pored over on the plane, sea urchins liked to live in small crevices and stung when touched. As she turned to sit on one of the smooth lava boulders, Dane was there, levering himself up beside her. He was lean and fit in his sleek flowered trunks. He swiped his wet hair back with one hand, and she noticed several little leather bracelets knotted around his wrist.

“Feels great, doesn’t it?” he asked.

“It does,” she agreed. “Thanks for inviting me along. Leilani told me you reserved the house for your group. Are you sure you won’t let me pay for my share?” This place must cost a bundle to rent. Maybe he’d inherited money, or maybe he was one of the young dot-com millionaires.

“Nah, it’s my treat. Always room for a pretty
wahine
,” he said and waggled his eyebrows at her.

Melia laughed. “Well, thanks again.”

She swished her legs idly through the water, enjoying the hot sun on her skin and the knowledge that she would slip back into the water in a few moments to cool off again.

When she glanced over at Dane, the light comment on her lips died unspoken. He gazed across the water at Malu, eyes hooded, his usually smiling face brooding.

Melia was still for a moment. Okay, that explained a lot. Why neither Cherie or Jacquie, attractive and available, were on Dane’s arm. And perhaps why Malu was here.

Watching Cherie emerge from the water in her string bikini to join Malu, Melia wrinkled her nose. No. Dane might have invited the big Hawaiian along, but Malu clearly did not return Dane’s interest. Malu gave off heterosexual vibes that were all too powerful.

She looked out to sea, not wanting Dane to see she’d noticed his preoccupation. There were so many undercurrents in this group. Maybe it hadn’t been such a great idea to accept Dane’s invitation. She wondered if Frank would take her back to Kona early if she asked.

“Anybody want to snorkel?” Frank called. “Gear’s all ready.”

“I do,” Melia called back, glad of the distraction. She slipped back into the water and swam to the shore to get her rash-guard shirt from her bag. Made of white synthetic knit, it protected a snorkeler’s back and shoulders from the sun. A friendly clerk at the swim boutique had assured her that idling in the water facedown was a great way to get a sunburn and completely ruin her vacation. She also slathered extra sunscreen on the backs of her legs.

When she walked out onto the dock, Dane sat on the edge, putting a snorkel mask on. Jimmer and Clay were swimming over to join them, followed by Jacquie and Cherie.

Frank fitted Melia with a bright green mask and snorkel, and a pair of flippers. Then he pointed out the best route along the reef. “You can swim outside the reef there,” he said. “But don’t go out of sight of the rest of us, okay? That’s very important. You should always have a snorkel buddy. And don’t try to pet the fish,” he added with a grin. “They got little bone razors right at the base of their tails that’ll slash your finger wide open.”

“Are there any sharks?” Melia asked hesitantly, looking at the mouth of the bay.

Dane laughed, echoed by a snicker from one of the women, but Frank merely shrugged.

“Not likely to see one this time of day. Early morning, evening, you don’t go past the reef, okay?”

She nodded gratefully and slipped into the water. The others might think she was overly cautious, but the thought of a large predator cruising toward her through the water…ugh. Gave her goose bumps. Volcanoes on one side, sharks on the other. If this place wasn’t so incredibly beautiful, no one would come here.

Melia quickly got used to breathing through the snorkel tube and found the flippers propelled her powerfully through the water with each kick. Much more fun than swimming laps at the Y.