Rolling in the Deep: Hawaiian Heroes, Book 2 (10 page)

“Who? Oh, the musician.” The one who was going to sing at the wedding.

“Just one of Hawaii’s greatest musicians ever,” Zane said, clearly horrified. “He’s da kine. There he is over there by the bar, in the gray shirt.”

Claire peered through the crowd. A short, slender Hawaiian, his long silver-streaked hair in a ponytail, held court in the shade of the lanai. A well-dressed woman was waving her hands animatedly as she spoke to him. Claire remembered now, Tina Ho’omalu had mentioned at dinner that one of Jason Mamaloa’s musicians was a Ho’omalu cousin or something. Perhaps the slightly taller Hawaiian man who stood beside him, sunglasses on his head. He looked familiar—must be the family resemblance. He was as slender as Zane.

“I can introduce you,” Zane offered.

“Thanks, but not now,” Bella said. She grabbed Claire’s arm and steered her toward the other end of the bar. “Claire wants a drink.”

“Sure,” Claire agreed, puzzled. “Let’s get a drink.”

They followed Zane up to the bar. “Wanna tell me what’s going on?” she whispered to Bella.

Bella shook her head, her ebony eyes turbulent. “Not now, okay?”

Zane turned at that moment, holding two frothy drinks. “For you, ladies. My auntie’s special mai tais.”

Glasses in hand, they followed him back out onto the lawn. Zane stopped almost immediately before a lovely, slender young woman in a chic little dress, with long sable hair and almond eyes. The two hugged each other, and he turned back to Claire and Bella, his arm still around her.

“This is my cousin Lalei,” he told them. “She lives in Honolulu and runs the gallery.”

Lalei smiled, but it was a mere curve of her lips, her eyes flicking coolly over Claire and then Bella. “Aloha.”

“Hi,” Claire said, her hackles rising immediately. “Nice to meet you.”

“Yes, so nice,” Bella said in the same ultrapolite tone.

Lalei turned back to Zane, her smile warming by several degrees. “Nice to see you, Zane. Gotta go. Aunt Tina asked me to see if Jason needs anything.”

“Okay,” Zane said cheerfully. “Talk to you later.”

Claire and Bella exchanged a speaking glance. “Bitch,” Claire mouthed behind her glass. Bella smirked, looking more cheerful.

“What?” Zane asked.

“Nothing.” Claire grinned. “Great girl. Who else can we meet?”

An hour later, Claire sank with relief into a chair beside Bella. Her head was whirling from all the names and faces she’d been trying to put together. Apparently there were more Ho’omalus than there were townspeople in Astoria. Combined with their friends and neighbors and business associates, they made a bewildering array of Hawaiians.

She had a pretty good idea that many of the people here had some serious money, judging from the rocks the women were wearing and the air of quiet confidence exuded by the men. She’d met a state representative, a mayor of somewhere, and several business owners.

There were also plenty of locals who looked like they worked with their hands, however, including one barrel-chested dude with braids hanging in his face. He clutched his beer, scowling suspiciously at the other guests. He was accompanied by a woman in a pretty flowered dress, her long hair adorned with a flower.

Claire thought the whirling in her head might possibly be enhanced as well by the mai tais she’d been drinking as she circulated through the friendly crowd. They were delicious, tasting deceptively of fresh fruit with just a hint of rum. Every time her glass emptied, someone had handed her another drink.

She gazed down at her half-empty glass and then pushed it away. Better cut herself off, at least until she’d eaten something. The tantalizing scent of barbecue swirled through the smell of flowers on the warm, damp air.

She, Grace and Bella had been ushered to a table in the front row. Grace was chic as always in her pale silk, but she held herself tensely, as if ready to bolt. Catching her eye, Claire made a silly face, and Grace relaxed a little, smiling affectionately at her.

All around her, the other guests had settled into chairs as well. Zane had disappeared, as had several of the other younger Ho’omalus.

Homu walked into the cleared space before the tables and held up his hands for quiet. Behind him, tall shrubs in pots framed an open area. The evening sky rose over them, now a duskier blue, while on the horizon the sun sank into banks of clouds, shaded in soft lavender and pink, reflected on the sea. It was a breathtaking backdrop.

“My friends, my ohana,” he said. “Aloha and mahalo for being here tonight with us to celebrate this happy occasion of our son David’s wedding to his lovely bride, Melia. We welcome her parents, John and Darcy, and all our friends from off-island as well. And now, we begin our celebration in our traditional Hawaiian style—with hula.”

Hula? Claire perked up. So that was where David and Daniel had gone. Oh, goody.

Homu’s eyes twinkled as he looked around, waiting for the murmur of anticipation to quiet. “It is tradition in our ohana to celebrate a wedding with a dance to Haumea, goddess of fertility. Although in this case, as many of you know, this is not necessary.”

A swell of laughter swept through the tables, along with many quiet exclamations as those present turned to look at Melia, seated with her parents and Tina Ho’omalu in the center of the front row. Melia was blushing and smiling, and her mother was covering her mouth with one hand as she gave her husband a look of laughing consternation. He grinned back at her, and Tina leaned over to lay her hand atop the Carsons’ clasped hands on the table.

“Aww, that’s so sweet,” Claire murmured.

Bella nodded. “This is one baby coming into a family that wants it.”

Claire looked from her to Grace, who took a long pull on her drink. Then a loud swishing rattle caught Claire’s attention. Homu and his brother were seated by a set of native drums, while Jason Mamaloa held a large gourd of some kind. With a nod, the Ho’omalus began to drum, and the other man tipped back his head and let out a long, eerie cry. Shaking the gourd, he began to chant in Hawaiian.

A shiver ran up Claire’s spine. And even though she knew who was coming, she gasped as a dancer strode out from the grouped shrubbery. It was Daniel Ho’omalu, clad only in a crown of gold leaves and a short, bulky skirt of faux green leaves ornamented with a gold tie.

David and Zane Ho’omalu followed him, but Claire barely noticed them. Daniel was all she could focus on. OMG, what a pure specimen of manhood. His chest and shoulders should be bronzed for immortality, an altar at which women could worship. And those tattoos—they really did mark his torso right down one side of his huge chest and on down across his six-pack into his skirt. A skirt which did nothing to diminish his masculinity, merely emphasized the power of his brawny legs.

She shivered again. The scowl on his face was fierce and wild. If he had produced a sword and proceeded to demand a sacrifice, in that moment she would have believed in his right to do so.

He and the two others stood still, legs spread, fists planted on their hips. The singer called out again and then began to chant rhythmically, and Daniel and the two other men moved. In perfect concert, they raised one arm and swept it across the audience, their eyes following as if they gazed at the far horizon, Daniel and David like kings surveying their people. Even Zane carried himself with a dignity that suited him as well as his endearing goofiness had earlier.

They swept their other arm across in the same manner and stomped their feet. Then, with a raw grace and beauty Claire knew she would never forget if she lived to be one hundred, the Ho’omalu men danced.

They turned and paced and stepped, changing formation so that David was in the front, and then Zane, using their arms and bodies as instruments as they danced, beseeching a greater being for something. The something became clear as they sank to their knees, leaned back, raised one arm high and, with utter unselfconsciousness, thrust their skirt-clad hips skyward in a graphic representation of the sexual act.

Heat coiled in Claire’s abdomen as Daniel Ho’omalu danced. He and the other men leapt to their feet, sprang and paced, only to fall to their knees and roll pelvises skyward again, arms raised in supplication, in demand.

The dance went on for several moments, and yet it was over far too soon. The three men sank back, frozen in male beauty, and then rose to their feet facing the audience.

For one searing instant, Daniel Ho’omalu’s jet gaze met Claire’s—marking her indelibly. The heat in her loins washed through her in a rush, leaving her trembling and weak. If she’d had to rise, her legs would have dumped her on the grass at his feet—and that was exactly where she wanted to be.

The singer called out a last, long imperative note, and the audience broke into applause. Daniel’s fiery gaze passed on. He, David and Zane bowed. The drum thumped as they turned and walked into the bushes. Claire took a long, shaky breath, astounded by the force of the feelings tumbling inside her. Just desire, maybe, but holy passion fruit, she’d never known she was capable of desire this strong.

She peered around her. Had anyone else noticed her perturbation? No, Bella and Grace were still preoccupied, and everyone was exclaiming over the dance.

“As good as the dancers at the Merrie Monarch festival in Hilo,” one older lady said loudly. “These boys should compete there.”

The music turned soft and lovely, the Hawaiian with sunglasses joining the small group with a ukulele. He and Jason Mamaloa began another tune, this one lovely and lilting. The audience cried out with delight as several young women paced into the enclosure. They wore leis and crowns of flowers with their flowered sundresses. Claire recognized most of them from the crowd.

Their dance was lovely, graceful and poignant, each gesture of their hands clearly telling part of the story. It wasn’t nearly as much fun as the men’s dance, but maybe that was just her.

When the dance ended, something odd happened. Jason Mamaloa and his musician bowed, spoke briefly with Homu Ho’omalu and then walked straight to Claire’s table.

“Ladies, do you mind if we join you?” the ukulele player asked.

Grace and Bella looked at each other. Grace nodded. Claire blinked—what the heck was going on?

The musician chose the chair next to Bella, and Jason Mamaloa sat down next to Claire. He smiled at her, and she couldn’t help smiling back. The guy had charm by the boatload.

“I love your music,” she said, holding out her hand. “I’m Claire Hunter.”

He took her hand and bowed over it with courtly grace. “Jason Mamaloa. Very nice to meet you, Claire.”

“And this is Daro Kai,” Grace said in a brittle voice. “Jason’s…partner.”

Realization struck as Claire looked into Daro Kai’s beautiful, sooty eyes. Of course, they were a gay couple. Daro smiled as politely as his partner, but like Grace, he looked tense as a drawn bowstring, pale under his Hawaiian skin. Bella, the same, as if she didn’t know whether to run or stay.

Claire looked from Bella to Daro Kai again, and then back. Realization struck again, this time with sledgehammer force. Holy hula skirts. Bella had this man’s eyes.

“Claire.” It was Zane, back in his Hawaiian shirt and shorts, one hand on the back of her chair. “Why don’t you come and eat with me? I’ll introduce you to some more of the cousins.”

Claire looked at Bella, who nodded solemnly. “Okay,” Claire said. “Sure, why not? Nice to meet you both.”

The two men rose as she did. “Very nice to meet you too, Claire,” said Daro Kai. “I hope to see you again.”

Claire followed Zane through the crowd.

“So, is he who I think he is?” she murmured.

He looked at her over his shoulder. “Yeah. Tina says they just need a little time, okay?”

She nodded and stopped with him beside a table nearly full of people. One of whom was Daniel Ho’omalu. He was dressed again in shirt and shorts, darn the luck, but she still felt a zing of delight low in her middle, just being near him.

“Hey, everyone,” Zane said cheerfully. “This is Claire. Claire, this is Zoe, Kanu, Lalei, and of course you know Daniel.”

Claire slid into the chair that Daniel held for her, his face impassive.

“Yes, I do.” And maybe with his cousins around, she could get him to loosen up.

“Thanks for inviting me to join you,” she said. “Your dancing was fabulous—all of you. It must be so great to have such a family, um, hobby.”

Lalei tossed her head, flipping her glossy hair over one shoulder. “Hula is hardly a hobby.”

Claire took a swig of the nearest drink, a beer. “Pastime?” she asked, her brow knit. “Exercise plan?”

“Tradition,” Daniel said dryly.

Claire batted her eyes at him over her glass. “Oh, thank you, Daniel. I do want to say it correctly.”

His eyes narrowed in a look that said he had her number. Well, so what? His cousin Lalei was a pill. Claire took another drink of beer.

“You’re not drinking?” she asked him, licking the foam from her lip. His eyes fell to her mouth, and she forgot to breathe.

He raised one heavy brow. “Little hard to do when you just snagged my beer.”

Claire froze, looked at the half-empty glass, then back at him. “Oops,” she said, a giggle of embarrassment bubbling up.

“I’ll bring you another one,” she offered, looking back toward the tiki bar. “Where’s the keg?”

“Nah, I’ll get it,” he said. “Zane, Kimo, you ready for another?”

“I’m hungry,” Zane said plaintively. “Let’s go get some dinner first.”

“See you later,” Lalei said, rising. “I’m going to sit with the governor and his wife.”

Claire blinked. Okay, the other woman had scored major points with that one. The governor of Oregon hadn’t attended any of her own family functions, as far as Claire knew.

The other Ho’omalus were friendly and chatty, unlike Lalei. And maybe it was their influence, but Daniel Ho’omalu relaxed as well.

Claire listened, charmed, as he teased his younger cousin Zoe.

“You don’t eat enough to keep a nene alive,” he told her after they had all made their way through the buffet line and returned to the table with plates of food.