Rolling in the Deep: Hawaiian Heroes, Book 2 (5 page)

“I’m not getting all soppy over a guy anytime soon,” Claire agreed.

Grace walked into the sitting room, lovely in a pale-blue silk sweater and filmy flowered skirt. “Ready, girls?”

The three of them rode down in the elevator. As they stepped out into the lobby, Claire spotted Melia first, standing with a tall, dignified Hawaiian woman. “There she is.”

She and Bella hurried across the huge lobby, skirting groups of people. Melia held out her arms to both of them, and they met in a three-way hug.

Melia looked beautiful, tanned and glowing. Clad in a simple, green, flowered dress and platform sandals, her long curls caught back in a loose roll at her temples and then falling free, she was as polished as the whopper of a ruby on her left hand, refined to her highest sheen. Even her freckles looked more chic.

But her hug felt the same, and her little squeal of delight still made Claire laugh.

After a quick hug for Grace, Melia turned to the woman who stood watching them with dark, liquid eyes that were somehow familiar. Strands of silver threaded her black hair, and she appeared statuesque, almost queenly in her pale-gray, flowered dress.

“Tina, I’d like you to meet Grace Moran,” Melia said. “Grace, Tina Ho’omalu.”

Of course, Claire realized with a jolt as the two women exchanged greetings. This was David and Daniel’s mother. Claire had seen those eyes earlier today, edged with the same reserve. She snorted inwardly. In Tina’s older son, it was more like a lava-rock wall. She hoped for Melia’s sake her new mother-in-law was not a hard-ass like her son. She’d better not be. Melia deserved the best.

“And my two dearest friends,” Melia went on, smiling mistily. “Claire Hunter and Bella Moran.”

Claire took the warm, brown hand held out to her, with another whopper of a ring, this one some smoky stone. “Pleased to meet you.”

Tina Ho’omalu nodded graciously, but Claire swore she saw a twinkle in her eyes. Was it derision or simply good humor? Then the older woman looked past them, her expression changing. “Ah, here are the men.”

Melia’s eyes lit up. “David, Daniel and their father are joining us.”

Claire’s heart skipped a beat and then began to pound double-time as she turned.
Wow.
Just…
wow
. The three Ho’omalu men strode across the hotel lobby, head and shoulders above the mingling tourists, as if one of the painted panels on the walls had come to life, releasing Hawaii’s ancestral warriors into the present.

Heads turned, and Claire saw more than one female straighten and preen themselves. She had to resist the urge to do so herself.

Her gaze locked onto Daniel Ho’omalu. He still wore shorts, but he’d changed his tank for a soft, buttoned shirt the blue of an evening sea. And his sunglasses were gone, so she could gaze into his eyes. They were as sooty as his brother’s, but there the resemblance ended. Daniel’s eyes were guarded, watchful, the turbulence of a brewing storm in their midnight depths. His gaze met Claire’s with an impact so solid she was vaguely surprised she wasn’t rocked backward off her feet. She locked her knees as heat spiraled downward, clear to her loins, where it spread, softening her legs like butter.

His gaze proclaimed with utter certainty that he was more than a match for her or any woman. The jut of his jaw swore that he was immune to the temptation. With an effort, Claire pulled her gaze from his before she totally humiliated herself by melting at his feet, a willing sacrifice on the hardened lava of his disdain.

Although Homu Ho’omalu’s hair was silver, he carried himself like a much younger man in his flowered shirt and cotton shorts. His smile and the twinkle in his eyes were so like David’s that Claire had to smile back at him.

His big paw was gentle as he squeezed her hand. “We’re honored to have our daughter’s friends with us.” Claire’s heart melted. 

They all trooped across the lobby, through a section of ornately carved columns and onto a curving lanai. Tiki torches burned outside the broad balcony rail. The sun was sinking into the soft clouds that rimmed the western horizon, their edges burnished with gold. The color reflected on the sea, its blue now silver tinged with gold. Soft Hawaiian music played over the sound of waves rushing onto the lava rocks below.

David and Melia took the seats backing to the rail, his parents on one side of them. Grace and Bella took the chairs next to them, which left Claire beside Daniel. As he held her chair for her, she murmured her thanks. She restrained herself from giggling like a teenager, but a flush of sheer excitement heated her face and throat.

She was here to see her friend, not flirt. She turned to Melia. “This is so gorgeous. I can’t believe you’re going to live here.”

“I know. I wake up in the morning and think I’m dreaming,” her friend agreed.

“This hotel is charming,” Grace said to Tina and Homu. “Thank you so much for putting us up here.”

Tina nodded graciously. “It is not the most exclusive resort on the island, but the new owners have done a great deal of remodeling. Also, we thought you’d like to be near Kona Town.”

“It’s perfect.”

A smiling waiter took their order for cocktails. Throwing caution to the wind now that food was on the way, Claire ordered a mai tai, as did Bella and Grace.

A woman came walking through the restaurant, laden with fresh-flower leis. Homu Ho’omalu beckoned to her. “A lei for each of our guests.”

Claire chose a lovely garland of creamy plumeria with deep pink centers. Instead of reaching across to hand it to her, the woman handed it to Daniel. The string of delicate blossoms looked incongruous hanging from his calloused hand. Claire looked up into his eyes. She held her breath, anticipation nearly suffocating her. Would he place it over her head?

His eyes narrowed dangerously. He hesitated and then lifted the lei and lowered it over her head. Although he was careful not to touch her, the heat emanating from his hands and knotted forearms contrasted sharply with the cool softness of the blossoms on her neck. Their scent rose up around her, mingling with the sea, or was that him? The heady combination seemed to embody the tropics.

“Mahalo,” she murmured. Remembering her manners, she turned to thank his parents also. “Now I really feel I’m in Hawaii.”

Their hostess nodded graciously. “It is our traditional greeting.
E komo mai o Hawaii.
Welcome to Hawaii.”

Mrs. Ho’omalu turned to Bella, who was arranging her purple hyacinth lei. “But you are Hawaiian, yes?”

Bella exchanged a swift look with her mother. “Yes, partly.”

Grace blushed, fussing with her white lei. Claire blinked. She’d always known Bella’s father was a tropical romance, just hadn’t realized it had happened here.

“And what about you, my dear?” Tina Ho’omalu asked Claire.

Claire picked up the tall drink the waiter had just placed before her, artfully decorated with a spear of fruit and flowers. She took a gulp, scarcely registering the chilled-fruit taste filling her mouth. Criminy, what was it about these Ho’omalus? The woman’s ebony gaze almost seemed capable of plumbing her thoughts. She didn’t envy Melia her mother-in-law.

“Me? I’m just an Oregon mongrel.”

Grace tsked. “Claire’s family has a long history with the sea,” she said. “They run a fleet of fishing boats out of Astoria, Oregon.”

Claire nearly snorted her drink. A fleet of fishing boats? Her dad and uncles owned a trio of boats as old as the men who ran them. They eked a living from the sea off Astoria, banking a little in the good years and tightening their belts in the lean. Claire’s mother had worked since Claire started kindergarten.

She peered past the fruit spear in her drink, and Grace winked solemnly. Grace Moran might appear to be a dreamy romantic, but she had a feisty streak when it came to “her girls”.

“Claire is a computer whiz,” Melia added. “She understands all those things that drive the rest of us crazy. She designed my cooking blog website.”

“But when I grow up I want to be a business woman like Bella,” Claire said. Bella was twining a strand of her hair between her fingers, something she only did when she was nervous or upset.

“Yes,” Melia chimed in loyally. “She’s opening up a division office on Maui for her sporting goods company. Next month, isn’t it?”

Bella nodded. “Everything’s on track to open the new office the fifteenth.”

Tina Ho’omalu smiled at them. “How fortunate the three of you are—such loyal friends.”

The waiter appeared and described several fish dishes, which all sounded pretty exotic to Claire. Melia ordered the catch of the day. “I’ll have that too,” Claire said with relief. When it came to food, Melia knew her stuff. Daniel ordered something called
ahi pūlehu
.

“Melia tells us David is quite an artist,” Grace said over salads topped with fresh blossoms. “Does such talent run in your family?”

“There have been various interests,” Tina answered. “I myself enjoy working with fabric, quilting in the Hawaiian style. My husband farms—his mangoes and other fruits are the finest on the island. His cousin, Daro, is a musician. We are a diverse family, as are most.”

Grace moved sharply, and her water glass fell over with a tinkle. “Oh, dear,” she muttered, blushing. “So sorry. Watch out, it’s running your way, Bella.” The next few moments were occupied mopping up. Their waiter joined in with aplomb, and soon their table was restored to order.

“Your cousin, you said?” Grace asked, stabbing at her salad with her fork.

“Yes. Daro is a noted ukulele player. He travels now with one of our most famous Hawaiian musicians, Jason Mamaloa. You may have heard of him?”

Grace
hmmed
noncommittally.

“Jason’s singing at our wedding.” Melia’s eyes widened with excitement. “I couldn’t believe it when David told me he’s a friend of the family. He has the most beautiful voice. He sings in Hawaiian,” she told them. “You have to hear him to believe how romantic it is.”

“Can’t wait,” Claire murmured, her eyes on Grace, who had abandoned her salad and was sucking at her drink as if it were medicinal. Claire raised her eyebrows in silent question to Bella, who shook her head slightly, watching her mother.

“What about you, Daniel?” Claire asked to change the subject. “What do you do?” Then her cheeks burned as the Ho’omalus all turned to look at her. Maybe he wasn’t artistic at all, and was embarrassed by it.

“Daniel does many things,” Tina said, her eyes on her son.

“Of course he spends as much time in the water as out of it,” added his father with a smile. “He is a creature of the sea—one of Kanaloa’s.”

“Who is Kana-Kana-whozit?” Claire stopped with her forkful of salad in midair, turning to Daniel. He set his fork down to pick up his beer glass.

“Kanaloa is the patron of our Hawaiian seas—the protector of all who dwell there.”

“You mean like a saint?” Claire asked doubtfully, remembering the Sunday school teachings of her youth.

He shrugged massively. “If you wish.”

“Kanaloa has great power,” David put in, his eyes twinkling at her. “It is said that when a beautiful person of either sex enters his world, they may see him beckoning.”

Claire shivered as if a masculine hand had brushed over her bare skin.

“Your, um, Kanaloa sounds kind of…seductive for a patron saint,” she murmured to Daniel.

She supposed the tropical seas were pretty sexual, with all the surf crashing in and warm waves lapping. And with Daniel in them, holy aloha. She gazed at him, having no trouble picturing him cruising through the blue depths, his powerful arms and legs propelling him along.

He scowled, his heavy brows drawing together, jaw tightening under his short beard. Then he shot her a taunting look from under his heavy lashes. “Perhaps you should stay out of his sea, then.”

She bristled, stabbing at her salad so hard a piece of lettuce flew off the plate. “Not happening. I grew up by the ocean. One a lot more dangerous than yours.”

His wide mouth twitched, his cheeks creasing in derision. “You think our seas aren’t dangerous, you’re
hūpō
, foolish. Haole tourists die here every year because they don’t take care in our waters.”

She knew he was right, but she was too angry to care. Big, patronizing male. Hawaiian native or not, he was behaving as if she were a child.

“At least they don’t freeze to death if they go overboard,” she retorted. “Only takes about forty-five minutes in the winter seas off of Oregon.”

He shook his head. “No, our nice, warm currents will just carry you off to the open ocean, where the only thing they’ll find is what the man
ō
, the sharks, have left. Maybe a piece of your bikini.”

He flicked his gaze down over her as if imagining her in a bikini, and Claire’s body responded as if he had touched her, a shiver running over her skin, her nipples peaking under her top. Squirming as irritation and arousal warred inside her, she dropped her fork and took a cooling drink of ice water.

Looking away from him, she saw that the others were all gazing at her and Daniel. An embarrassed flush heating her cheeks, Claire raised her water glass to her lips again, wishing she could hide behind it. Oh, great. They’d been squabbling in front of her friends and his family.

Melia grinned at her. “Daniel is an artist too,” she said. “Some of his best pieces are on display at Nawea Bay.”

Claire tried to imagine those huge hands holding a paintbrush, and failed. She frowned at him. “Do you paint, like David?”

He shrugged again, a glimmer of humor twitching up the corners of his mouth. “Guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

His taunt immediately raised her hackles again. “You do fantastic things with recycled coat hangers,” she guessed. “Or old flip-flops and peanut-butter jars. Wait, I know—you stack huge chunks of lava in representational shapes.” She grinned, picturing him hefting boulders into a pile, scowling at them the way he was at her, as if he couldn’t figure out why they wouldn’t conform to his will.

Bella and Melia giggled. Tina Ho’omalu’s brows drew together. Oops, Claire recognized that look on her face as well as that of her son:
We are not amused.