White Ginger (18 page)

Lights blazed from every window, streamers adding to the festive air.

“You’ll be the belle of the ball in that outfit. Arne won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”

Lili’s compliment was repeated in the admiring male glances thrown her way and she didn’t miss a set while she waited for Arne. The men of Kaleialani were willing partners and quite good dancers, aside from the overzealous fisherman whose mistiming bruised her toes.

“Come on, Amelie. Let’s have a go at this jive.” Kevin pulled her to her feet. Amelie stood, smoothing the gorgeous ivory-matte satin dress over her hips. How would the classical ivory high heels stand up to the jive? She bent to check the diamante-studded side bows were secure. She jived with Kevin, and then Rex waltzed her round the floor, complimenting her style.

“Where’s Arne tonight? I thought he’d be here.”

“He’s flying back from a meeting in Honolulu. The university had to find money to replace equipment and he has to reorganize the testing schedule for the reef, among other things.”

She glanced toward the door.

Will he make it back for the last dance?

* * * *

When Arne finally arrived, Amelie was dancing with the police deputy, Ray. Like a beautiful rare bird, she floated gracefully in her partner’s arms. He stood in the side entrance enjoying the sight of her graceful figure. She was stunning, and she would be his. Tonight, they would sit on the beach below his bungalow and he would tell her.

Everything.

As the music ended, Ray escorted her back to the corner table. “Thanks for the dance, Amelie. Keep another one for me if you can.”

“Sure thing, Ray. Thanks.”

As she turned to the front door, he came up behind her and took hold of her arms. Pulling her against his chest, he kissed her neck.

Jasmine. The scent of Amelie.

“Arne.” She sighed his name, and he felt ten feet tall. The look in her eyes matched his desire. Casually, he put an arm around her shoulders.

Let any man try to take her away.

He wasn’t going to give up even one dance.

Midevening, during a break between sets, Sanderson and Marita made their entrance, fashionably late. Marita’s black dress was low cut, tight and obviously expensive. Her gold jewelry was heavy enough to match Sanderson’s gold Rolex and Italian suit and shoes. The country club enjoyed his patronage because his plans included acquiring it to complement the hotel on the harbor.

Arne watched carefully. Was Sanderson worried the investigation was narrowing in on his operation? Did he realize how soon an arrest would be made? Sanderson was playing the genial host, but his gaze zeroed in on Arne. Working his way across the floor, he offered greetings to a number of people. Marita didn’t look happy. Her green cat eyes were hard as her gaze swept over Amelie, but her smile was social. He tensed as she stopped beside Amelie. What mischief was she up to?

“Your
holiday
is very long. Aren’t you lucky to have a local guide.” Her fake enthusiasm rankled with Amelie. “Of course, being born and bred here Arne knows this island well, don’t you, darling? Have you shown your little friend the native culture yet?”

“Indeed, I have the greatest respect for such an ancient and beautiful culture. We could all learn from them, in particular how our shared reefs should be treated.” Amelie turned her gaze on Marita’s partner. “Don’t you agree, Mr. Sanderson?”

She was magnificent, all wide-eyed innocence as she met the developer’s eye. Arne was glad she was on his side. Behind him, Lili excused herself, choking back laughter. Sanderson’s face darkened slightly.

“Quite so, Miss Mackenzie. Excuse us. We should keep moving.”

“Amelie, you are something else.” Lili laughed in admiration. “I wish I’d dared to say that.”

Kevin handed her a glass of soda. “You wish you’d thought of it.”

She gave him a back-handed smack on his chest then agreed.

The lights dimmed and the band began a slow waltz. He’d made it back in time to slow dance with Amelie and he intended to make the most of it. They’d have more than just the last dance. He led her onto the dance floor. The song began–Etta James’s version of “At Last” could have been written for them. He’d waited forever for his love to come along.

As he pulled her close, her thighs brushed his. “I’m glad you made it back in time.”

She looked at him as though they were alone in the room. He wasn’t sure he could even finish this dance when she looked at him like this. Maybe they’d leave early. He moved his hand from her waist to the curve of her hip.

Night cast its spell as he guided them onto the veranda, away from the crowd. Her arms twined around his neck, her cheek resting against his. Her breath fanned across his ear as she nibbled his ear lobe. He wasn’t going to last if she kept doing that.

Her lips slowly trailed across his cheek and he sighed. And then she kissed him. Sweet and passionate, the touch of her lips on his sent his blood singing through his veins.

He pulled her tightly against his chest. “I’m not letting you go this time.” Had she spoken or was that his subconscious? Either way, it was definitely time to go.

The final notes of the song faded. Arne raised his head. The love in her sea-blue eyes told him all he needed to know–she was his at last. Heady with that unspoken promise, he cupped her face and brushed her lips with his thumb. She closed her eyes and sighed softly.

Draping her arms around his neck, she swayed, the memory of the music lingering in her rocking hips. Softly, she hummed the melody they’d danced to.

Alone on the veranda, the night hid them as he whispered in her ear, “The music’s finished.”

“No, it hasn’t. The music never ends when I’m in your arms.” Opening her eyes, she ran her fingertips over his cheek, her touch light and provocative. “Kiss me, Arne.”

“Your wish is my command.”

In his arms, her lips promised everything and the world slipped away. She filled his heart and soul; she was all he would ever need.

“Let’s get out of here.”

She nodded.

“Wait here. I’ll get your bag and tell Lili I’m taking you home.” He paused at the doorway.

“She knows by the way. About us.”

* * * *

Amelie leaned against the wooden railing admiring the rear view. Arne sure did something for a pair of slim trousers. Lost in admiring his butt, she was surprised when he veered away from their corner table. She glanced over and saw Jeff Jessup signal to him and Ray joined them. They bent close in conversation and then Jeff gestured to the office. When they moved off the floor, Rex joined them.

Men. Always something important cropped up, just when you wanted romance
.
Tilting her head way back, she looked at the upside-down sky. He’d probably be gone for a while if she knew men and their discussions.

She twisted around and leaned out over the railing, inhaling the heady perfumes of tropical night blossoms. Hawaiian nights were made for lovers. Where would Arne take her? The beach? Somewhere romantic for sure.

Marry an American.
Well, Arne was her American. Tonight really wasn’t for talking. Had he understood the promise in her kiss? Could they just jump to what came after
the talk
?

Tom interrupted her reverie. He carried his beer with him and offered her a soda, then leaned on the railing with an expectant look. Was he trying to make a move on her? He was pleasant enough, though a bit intense. The polite thing would be to offer him a few moments of conversation. Mind and body attuned to Arne’s reappearance, she accepted the proffered drink and inclined her head to listen, scanning for Arne’s return every few seconds.

Tom led her to a seat near the steps farthest away from the dance floor and lounged back, beer in hand. His conversation turned once more to his surfing. She nodded politely at intervals.

Where is Arne?
What was more important than the talk they’d been trying to have for days?

Her heart hammered a warning. What was more important than her? Oh, God, she’d been down this road before. Victor’s work, Arne’s research…

Was she destined to meet only men whose work was more important than her? A chill crept up her spine.

Arne’s not like that. He loves you. Even Lili saw it. He loves you.

Her insecurity spoke up.
He loves his work too. If it was a contest, who do you think would win? Not you!

Tom shifted on the bench, crossing his left ankle over his right knee, and leaned both elbows back on the railing. In the spill of light from the dance floor, dirty streaks of vermilion and purple stained the sole of his left shoe. And there, on his left calf where his trouser leg had ridden up…the edge of a breaking wave tattoo.

She froze. Her breath caught in her throat and every bit of moisture deserted her mouth as she stared at his leg, mesmerized. At the base of the wave there would be an oddly shaped mole she’d seen once before.

Tom had already talked money with Sanderson.

Amelie struggled to drag her gaze from Tom’s leg. The evidence was right in front of her eyes. This man had sabotaged Arne’s work and attacked her. He had cut her air supply and left her to die on the reef.

As she lifted her gaze to his, his expression changed. Before her eyes, the eager young surfer became a killer.

“She was right. You worked it out. You’re too clever for your own good.”

Arne–
she had to find Arne now!

Frozen muscles unlocked and adrenaline throbbed through her body. She lunged for the door.

“I have to go to–”

Tom grabbed her wrist, spinning her round and sending her soda flying. He clamped the other hand hard over her mouth and hauled her down the stairs, half dragging, half carrying her.

“Be quiet,” he ordered.

Damned if I will.

She kicked, scrabbling for purchase in the pebbled path but it gave under her flailing feet. With both hands, she tugged in vain on the iron muscles of Tom’s forearm. Her muffled cries could not carry far enough to bring any help. She tried to wrench her mouth free from his grip and scream.

Fear gave her a strength she’d never known. Elbowing Tom in the stomach, the breath puffed out of him but he still didn’t release his tight grip on her.

“Stop it, you bitch!” He shifted his grip from her wrist and grabbed her around the waist, hauling her off her feet.

She kicked uselessly in the air as he stumbled over the gravel parking lot. She’d never been more helpless or more determined.

Just give me one chance. One distraction, that’s all I need.

He dumped her against the side of a van, knocking the breath out of her. Shoving one knee between hers, he pressed her against the cold metal with his hard body while he fumbled for his keys, then the lock.

The ridge running down the side of the van pressed into the back of her head. She gagged against his hand, and tugged on the corded muscle of an arm. He dragged the door open with one hand. The pressure of his body relaxed on hers, and she kicked the van door shut. He hauled her away by the waist and opened the van door again.

One good scream,
that’s all I ask
.

Adrenaline pumping, she breathed deeply, and tensed to kick out again. A heavy blow stunned her into submission.

Vaguely she was aware of being thrown into the rear of his van. From a great distance, the door slammed and he floored the van out of the car park, away from the danger of discovery.

Away from Arne.

* * * *

Arne scanned the dance floor and the veranda beyond the door searching for Amelie.

Where is she?

First, Tom Whitburn had disappeared and now he couldn’t find Amelie. With the information Jeff had just received, they had the evidence to put Tom away for a long time. His jaw clenched as he remembered his fear for Amelie after the attack on the reef.
Whitburn
. The name brought a sour taste to his mouth. Sabotage and attempted murder as well as breaking and entering. The Feds would have a field day when they got hold of him.

Arne wanted her safely within his arms before that happened. Why hadn’t he brought her inside with him?

Because you didn’t want to observe the social niceties. Face it, man, you wanted to keep her all to yourself.

Where was Lili? She could check the ladies room for him, though if he didn’t find her soon, he’d brave the frightening task himself. Anxiety flickered in his gut. Usually, he listened to his instincts.

From behind the bar, Charley called out to him, in between pouring drinks. “Looking for Amelie? She was outside talking with young Tom. He looked a bit pasty. Probably still on the veranda.”

His heart jumped wildly. She couldn’t be in the company of the man who’d tried to kill her. He raced back outside but there was no sign of either of them. Leaning over the railing, he peered into the semidarkness as a vehicle gunned the engine out of the car park. A van like Tom Whitburn’s raced away in a spurt of gravel, turning west toward the highway out of town. How had he gotten wind of the arrest? They would have to pick him up quickly. But first he had to find Amelie.