“I don’t need anyone,”

Dev said defiantly.

Anger surged through Kulani. “You are as stubborn as a mule, Dev! Morgan said you are not to go on this mission alone. Are you in the habit of disobeying your boss’s orders?”

Kulani stood there breathing hard. Fear warred with hurt inside her. “I’m going down there with or without you. You can’t stop me from coming, but it would be better if you just agreed to let me come along. That way, if I needed you, you’d be nearby, Dev.” Her throat closed off with tears as she watched his eyes soften with her admission. “Please…I need you on this mission, Dev. Will you be there for me?”

His conscience railed at him. Kulani needed him. How long had it been since someone needed him? Swallowing hard, he grappled with her request.

Because it was tearing his heavily guarded heart wide open….

Hunter’s Pride
Lindsay McKenna

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To all my readers.

Thank you.

Books by Lindsay McKenna

Silhouette Special Edition

Captive of Fate #82

* Heart of the Eagle #338

* A Measure of Love #377

* Solitaire #397

Heart of the Tiger #434

† A Question of Honor #529

† No Surrender #535

† Return of a Hero #541

Come Gentle the Dawn #568

† Dawn of Valor #649

** No Quarter Given #667

** The Gauntlet #673

** Under Fire #679

†† Ride the Tiger #721

†† One Man’s War #727

†† Off Limits #733

‡ Heart of the Wolf #818

‡ The Rogue #824

‡ Commando #830

** Point of Departure #853

° Shadows and Light #878

° Dangerous Alliance #884

° Countdown #890

‡‡ Morgan’s Wife #986

‡‡ Morgan’s Son #992

‡‡ Morgan’s Rescue #998

‡‡ Morgan’s Marriage #1005

White Wolf #1135

◊ Wild Mustang Woman #1166

◊ Stallion Tamer #1173

◊ The Cougar #1179

Δ Heart of the Hunter #1214

Δ Hunter’s Woman #1255

Δ Hunter’s Pride #1274

Silhouette Shadows

Hangar 13 #27

Silhouette Intimate Moments

Love Me Before Dawn #44

Silhouette Desire

Chase the Clouds #75

Wilderness Passion #134

Too Near the Fire #165

Texas Wildcat #184

Red Tail #208

Silhouette Books

Silhouette Christmas Stories 1990

“Always and Forever”

Lovers Dark and Dangerous 1994

“Seeing Is Believing”

Morgan’s Mercenaries: Heart of the Jaguar

Harlequin Historicals

Sun Woman #71

Lord of Shadowhawk #108

King of Swords #125

Brave Heart #171

LINDSAY MCKENNA

is a practicing homeopath and emergency medical technician on the Navajo Reservation in Arizona. She comes from an Eastern Cherokee medicine family and is a member of the Wolf Clan. Dividing her energies between alternative medicine and writing, she feels books on and about love are the greatest positive healing force in the world. She lives with her husband, David, at La Casa de Madre Tierra, near Sedona.

Lindsay McKenna

brings you four exciting, adventure-filled missions for the rugged men of the Hunter family!

MORGAN’S MERCENARIES: THE HUNTERS

HEART OF THE HUNTER

December 1998, Special Edition #1214 A wounded, brooding marine finds his heart while guarding a vulnerable beauty.

HUNTER’S WOMAN

July 1999, Special Edition #1255 A determined military man wants his woman back—and she’s carrying his child!

HUNTER’S PRIDE

October 1999, Special Edition #1274 A sexy mercenary takes on a lovely partner whose passion rivals his own.

Look for the fourth book in the series,

THE UNTAMED HUNTER,

in Silhouette Desire (SD #1262) in January 2000!

For those of you who’d like to read the stories featuring Morgan Trayhern and his family—and see where

MORGAN’S MERCENARIES

began!—you won’t want to miss this exciting 3-in-1 volume:

LOVE AND GLORY

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter One

Would Kulani Dawson say yes? Morgan Trayhern’s hand hovered over the phone as he hesitated, his mouth pulled in a slash, his brows drawn. A month ago, he’d asked her to do some low-key detective work for him on the island of Kauai, where she lived, and she’d come through with valuable information for Perseus. Morgan knew that Kulani had done it because of their friendship, even though she no longer worked for him.

How could he make this next request of her? She would think him heartless. But Kulani had been a high-powered, ambitious woman at one time. Before the accident she’d been a highflier, and now she was living what he considered a desultory life flying tourists around her island. That was a helluva comedown from what she had been. In his gut, Morgan felt she needed the mission he was about to offer her. She needed something to bring her life, and herself, back into sharp, passionate focus once again. Besides, he had no choice. Not one damn alternative. Kulani was the best merc for this job.

With his heart wrenching, Morgan withdrew his hand from the phone and wiped his damp palm against his dark, pinstripe slacks. He didn’t try and minimize how Kulani would react to his request.

She was like a daughter to him. He hoped his own daughters would someday grow up and be a lot like her. She was a woman of incredible courage, having taken part in the Gulf War, where after being shot down, she still managed to bring her helicopter crew back to safety. And she was just a kid back then. Hadn’t even seen thirty yet. Her career in the navy had been meteoric. How lucky Morgan had counted himself in wooing her over to Perseus, afterward.

Sitting down at his desk, he felt his gut tightening. He had to make the call. Thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands of lives rested on it. Still, how could he do this to her? He knew the awful tragedy of Kulani’s past. After the accident, she had quit Perseus abruptly. Now she was trying to rebuild her life, and Morgan had done what he could to help her do that. She had gone home, where her heart was, to the place she had been born—Kauai, Hawaii. Morgan knew she was trying to pick up the pieces of her shattered life and he was about to blow it all to hell.

“Damn,” he muttered. His low, growling voice echoed around the large, walnut-paneled office. Raking his fingers through dark hair touched with silver at the temples, he fixed his gaze on the photo of Laura, his wife. Her blond hair mussed by a playful breeze, she sat on the steps of their cedar home, high in the Rocky Mountains. Their son Jason sat to her left, and their second born, Katherine Alyssa, or Katy, at her right. In Laura’s arms were their youngest children, a set of fraternal twins, Peter and Kelly. Laura had always wanted a large family, and they were certainly on their way to having just that. The twins, at eighteen months, looked like healthy little pink butterballs in Laura’s loving arms. The light shining in his wife’s eyes told him just how proud she was of them. Of him. Together, out of their love, they were creating more love in the image of their children.

Smiling a little, Morgan sighed heavily as he picked up the photo. Without his family, he wouldn’t want to live. How destitute Kulani must have felt when she lost the man she loved to such a horrifying accident. Worst of all, she had watched him die. Fingers tightening momentarily around the oak frame of the photo, Morgan could imagine all too well the trauma of losing Laura or his children. Actually, he’d nearly lost them once to vicious drug lords when he and his family had been kidnapped years ago. And how would he feel if someone called him less than a year and half after such a tragedy and asked him to go back to the very scene of the accident? To the place where his life had been ripped irrevocably apart?

He had to be some kind of unfeeling bastard to call Kulani and do just that. Would she understand? Would she be able to get past her grief in order to understand the dangerous nature of the mission he was going to speak to her about? Would she be able to see how necessary it was for him to ask her to take on such danger? How would he react to such a call? He’d tell the caller to go to hell.

Making a grab for the phone, Morgan cursed himself. Cursed his job. He was asking the impossible of Kulani. And she had every right to hate him for what he was going to ask of her.

“Hello?”

Morgan’s fingers tightened around the phone. “Kulani? This is Morgan. How are you?”

He heard the gasp of surprise and then the pleasure in her low, soft voice. “Morgan! It’s so nice to hear from you. I’m fine.”

“Am I catching you at a bad time?” He wiped the sweat off his upper lip.

With a slight chuckle, Kulani said, “I’m having my morning Kauai coffee. I’ve got to leave for the airport in about ten minutes. To what do I owe the pleasure of hearing from you? Are the twins okay?”

How like Kulani to inquire about his children. She loved all children, which made her loss even more devastating. With the man she’d hoped to marry gone, Morgan didn’t know if she’d ever have children of her own. His heart pounding, he continued, “The twins are fine. And so are Laura, Jason and Katy. My call is business, Kulani.”

“Oh.” Her voice fell flat. “I got you the information you asked for on that professor.”

“Yes, the information you got us was vital. And I’m grateful.” He hesitated, thought to hell with it and dove in. “I need your help again, Kulani.”

“Morgan…” she pleaded softly, “I don’t want—”

“Please, Kulani, hear me out. You’re the only one who can help us. And if there was anyone else I could ask to take this mission, believe me, I would.”

“A mission? I don’t work for Perseus anymore, Morgan. I’m done with that part of my life.”

The raw desperation in her voice gutted him. “Just hear me out, Kulani. That’s all I ask,” he pleaded, clenching the phone.

The silence was serrating. Finally, Kulani whispered, “I’ll listen, Morgan, but I won’t change my mind. I can’t….”

Heartened, Morgan began what he hoped was a story that would make her change her mind. Sweat beaded on his wrinkled brow. He didn’t have much time, so he made his description of the planned mission succinct. When he was finished, he halted abruptly. Wiping his upper lip again with the back of his hand, he said in a rasping voice, “Now you see why I need you, Kulani. You’ve done the preliminary work on the professor, anyway. You’re familiar with the territory. Only you can do this.” He held his breath.

Over the phone line he heard Kulani sob once. “Damn you, Morgan! I can’t. How could you even think of asking me? It’s just too much.” Her voice cracked. “Too much!”

The phone line went dead. Morgan hissed a curse and gently placed the receiver back in the cradle. Kulani’s cry squeezed his heart. Only the sound of Laura’s tears could make him feel worse. And now he’d wounded Kulani—again. On purpose, though his motives had been pure. Patriotic. So many lives were at stake. And he needed her. So why did he feel like the worst kind of turncoat son of a bitch?

Looking angrily around the office, Morgan picked up the phone. “Get me Dev Hunter,” he ordered his assistant heavily. “Now, please.”

“Morgan, I hope you’ve called me in for an assignment. I’m bored as hell.” Devlin Hunter stretched his hand toward the big man who sat behind the wooden desk in the secluded office. Perseus, the covert branch of the CIA that Dev worked for and Morgan headed, had gone underground since Morgan, his wife and son had been kidnapped years ago. Instead of being in Washington, D.C., its original “home,” Perseus was now located in a tiny, sleepy community of Philipsburg, Montana.

Morgan grinned sourly and gripped the younger man’s hand. “Oh, I think I have something that will unglue you from your boredom, Dev.” He pointed to a large leather wing chair to the left. “Have a seat.” Morgan noticed that Dev, although casually dressed, still wore designer clothing, as was his penchant. Of the four Hunter brothers, all of whom worked for Perseus, Dev was the clotheshorse among them. Plus, in Morgan’s opinion, Dev was the only one of them with the kind of model-handsome looks that seemed to attract women like bees to honey.

Dev sat down on the edge of the chair, relaxed but alert. Folding his large square hands between his opened thighs, he waited expectantly as Morgan took his seat and opened the file that sat in front of him. Maybe it was Dev’s imagination, but Morgan looked more tired than usual. His black hair, cropped short and always military neat, had more silver at the temples. Despite that, however, Morgan looked just as fit as ever. Dev knew his boss worked out at the gym daily as if he were still in the Marine Corps, which he’d left a long time ago. When Dev was between assignments, he ran five miles with Morgan most mornings along dirt roads in the area, among huge, fragrant Douglas fir.

“I hope it’s a good assignment,” Dev said. “To tell you the truth, I’m getting flabby.” He patted his hard gut with a grin. Dev, too, worked out conscientiously at the underground gym that was available for Perseus employees. Morgan had had a condominium built in Philipsburg to house incoming and outgoing Perseus employees. To the outsider, it looked like a time-share facility for vacationers coming to the magnificent Rocky Mountain area of Montana. Morgan was very good at camouflaging things to protect his people and to protect his own family from global enemies who wanted to see Perseus and everyone associated with it destroyed.

He thumbed through a number of e-mail messages lying near the file, his thick, black-and-silver brows dipped in concentration. His mouth tightened momentarily and then he raised his craggy head and met Dev’s intelligent gaze. On the surface, Dev Hunter looked less the mercenary and more like a Wall Street broker. And he always wore a lopsided grin, the left corner of his mouth slightly hitched upward, as if he knew a joke that no one else did. It wasn’t a sarcastic smile, more one of a playful imp from Ireland. Dev Hunter’s easygoing nature was one of the things Morgan liked about him. And in this forthcoming assignment, Dev’s charm and laid-back personality were going to be tested to the limits—and then some. Morgan wasn’t even sure Hunter would take the assignment, but he was prepared to apply a lot of pressure on him to do so. Inhaling deeply, Morgan considered his words carefully. He knew that, in order to get Hunter lured into the assignment, presentation was everything. Morgan prided himself on knowing his people—what snagged their attention, what connected with their passion in life, what made them want to undertake a mission.

“Take a look at this,” he told Dev in a casual tone as he picked up a color photograph and handed to him.

Frowning, Dev took the large photo. “Hey, this is some looker,” he rasped as he sat back, his gaze riveted on the picture. It showed a woman in a Hawaiian grass skirt and a bright red halter top, her wrists and ankles surrounded by garlands of pale pink plumeria, her arms raised skyward as she swayed gracefully on a golden beach, the deep blue of the Pacific Ocean behind her. Her black hair, shining with blue highlights, was encircled with a wreath of white plumeria and greenery, which set off her dusky gold complexion and warm black eyes. Her gaze, too, was turned heavenward, her full lips, a ripe pink color, parted, as if she were caught up in some sacred dance with the spirits of nature and the mighty, placid blue ocean that lovingly framed her.

Dev’s gaze moved in appreciation over her tall, lithe body. One of her knees peeked out from the grass skirt, parting the yellowish strands and displaying her long calf and delicate bare foot. Her exquisitely long fingers curved upward in honor of the sky she danced beneath. Her arms, firm and slender, arced gracefully above her head, as if in tribute to the golden sun that embraced her. She was small breasted, her torso long and her hips slender beneath the flowing grass skirt.

As his gaze moved to her face, he felt a wrenching in his chest. That caught him off guard. Hunter was used to being around attractive women. He drew them like sunlight opened flowers. It was his gift, he supposed. Certainly, his other brothers did not possess the charisma he had with women. But something about this woman moved him as no one had before. He studied her features—the square face with high cheekbones, the dark black brows arching above her wide, shining eyes. Everything about her shouted of aristocracy, from the fine thin nose to the confident way she held herself as she danced the hula. Dev had been to Hawaii a number of times, and because of his curiosity about other cultures, he’d learned quite a bit about the traditional dance. It was a sacred custom among the Hawaiian people, not the touristy thing that visitors thought it was. And there was no doubt the woman dancing in this photo was moving in a deeply sacred communion with the unseen.

Releasing a low whistle, he raised his chin and pinned Morgan with his gaze. “Tell me she’s my mission.”

Smiling a little, Morgan said, “She’s half of it.”

Dev sat up expectantly. His hands tingled as he held the photo, and he was amazed once again at his reaction to the woman pictured there. She looked like an ancient Hawaiian princess—or maybe the daughter of the fire goddess, Pele. “Okay…you got my attention. Is she my tango?”

Morgan smiled to himself. Tango, a military term that meant target, was used to identify the person a mercenary would be protecting. “No,” he said slowly, “she’s your partner.” Steeling himself, he saw Dev’s expression go first, to surprise and then to mild shock before he set his jaw firmly. Hunter was a loner among the elite personnel of Perseus; he didn’t work with a partner. He never had—until now.

Glancing briefly down at the photo, Dev bit back an automatic “No.” He knew Morgan too well, and he sensed his boss was trying to trap him into taking the mission by showing him an incredibly beautiful woman. Morgan knew a pretty face was Dev’s Achille’s heel. Anger sparked within Dev and tension ran through him momentarily. Yet, as he looked at the photo, those shining eyes filled with such life and awe, he found his anger dissolving. That shook him. No woman had ever had that kind of hold on him. He took that back—one had, but not to this powerful degree at first glance—and that relationship had ended up in a disaster of untold proportions that haunted him to this moment.

“What’s her name?” he demanded gruffly.

Morgan was surprised. He’d expected Hunter to instantly put up a fight and flatly turn down the assignment. Something must have captured his attention. Smiling to himself, Morgan answered, “Kulani Dawson.”

“Kulani…” Dev muttered, more to himself than to Morgan. He repeated the name over and over in his mind. The funny thing was, his heart pounded a little bit every time the word spun through the halls of his mind. Was he just having a purely male response to this photo of her? She was stunning looking. More ethereal than real to Dev. He wanted her. For him it was that primal, that straightforward. Yes, it had to be his desire for her that had caught him off guard. That was all.

“Kulani used to work for us. She’s a helicopter pilot,” Morgan continued. “She was one of the first women to fly helos in the U.S. Navy. I found out about her, managed to convince her to leave her military career behind and work for us.” His voice grew sad. “A little over a year and a half ago, she quit. She runs her own tourist helicopter service over on Kauai now.”

Dev grinned cockily. “This is one helluva dessert to be putting on my plate.” He placed the photo back on Morgan’s desk. “You know I don’t do partners. And even though I’m intrigued, I’m not changing my mind about how I operate.”

Holding up his scarred hand, Morgan said, “Hear me out first, Dev, before you make a final decision.”

Shrugging his broad shoulders, Dev replied, “You’re the boss. What’s up?”

Becoming grim, Morgan said, “Your brother Ty and the team from the Organization of Infectious Diseases—OID—confirmed that a genetically altered form of anthrax was sprayed upon an unsuspecting Juma Indian village south of Manaus as a ‘test’ case for Black Dawn, the international terrorist group.”

“Damn,” Dev whispered painfully. “I didn’t know the details. I suspected what was going on, but Ty didn’t say for sure.”

“He couldn’t. This is top secret information. But it’s been confirmed through five different governmental agencies, including our own. It’s only a matter of time until Black Dawn picks a top event target.”

“Like delivering anthrax by air over a major city?”

“Yes, and probably a U.S. city—that’s our best, educated guess.” Morgan tapped the pile of e-mail messages on his desk. “But we’ve got a lead. A strong one. And I hope this isn’t a wild-goose chase this time. The light plane used to deliver the aerosol spray over the Juma village in the Brazilian jungle had numbers on the side of the fuselage. We were able to trace those numbers.”

Dev’s brows shot up. “That was a pretty basic mistake on Black Dawn’s part not to disguise or change the lettering on the plane.”

Morgan agreed. “No plan, no matter how carefully thought up, is without mistakes and screwups. And this is theirs.”

“Who does the plane trace to?” Dev asked, unable to keep his gaze from wandering to the photo of Kulani Dawson. There was such incredible life in her. There was a radiance about her face, as if she were caught in the throes of something so sacred that Dev could not even begin to connect with it. That didn’t matter. He knew with sudden insight that just by being next to her, hearing her voice, and looking into her eyes, he could somehow possess it. Possess her. Shaken, he forced himself to pay attention to Morgan.

Pulling a paper from the file, Morgan rumbled, “A Professor Jevon Valdemar. A refugee from the Balkans granted asylum by our government to continue his work in biochemistry.” The derision in his voice was heavy. Tossing the paper toward Dev, he added, “The turncoat son of a bitch has sold us out. We gave him asylum, grant money in the millions and what did he do? He joined Black Dawn, perfected the genetic anthrax to kill millions around the world.” Morgan’s nostrils quivered as he glared across the desk at Dev, who picked up the paper and looked at the photo of the professor on it.

Eyes narrowing, Dev studied the thin-faced man with round, gold, wire-rimmed glasses. The professor appeared to be in his late fifties, his hair gray and helter-skelter across his broad forehead. “Funny how faces never tell the whole story,” Dev murmured philosophically. “You’d think a killer would look like a killer. You’d think they’d have pig eyes, hard faces, their features broadcasting just what kind of people they were.”

Morgan’s eyes were icy. “Valdemar looks like a radical in my opinion.”

“How does this top event tie in with her?” Dev asked as he slid the paper back to Morgan. Again, his gaze drifted to the beautiful Kulani Dawson. He’d been over on Hawaii, the Big Island, and Oahu, but never on Kauai. He’d seen his share of hula dancers, but no one like Kulani. Was she the daughter of Pele, the fire goddess? She looked it, with the fire in her heart, her passion, written across her lovely face, in her shining eyes.

“She did a little of the legwork for us already, because after we traced the plane back to the professor, we discovered it was originally bought in Kauai. Since then we’ve found out Valdemar was paying rental at Lihue Airport for his plane. How it got from there to Brazil, we don’t know. It could have been transported in the belly of a large cargo plane. In any case, Professor Valdemar disappeared a year ago from Kauai, where he was doing his work at a local lab that was part of the CIA efforts. His plane disappeared from Lihue Airport about the same time he did. Rafe, our contact in Brazil, found the plane after a search of the Manaus airport with that city’s police detectives. Rafe, who is one of our deep mole Perseus operatives, showed a photo of the professor to Manaus airport employees and Valdemar was positively identified. And now we have another lead. Kulani saw Professor Valdemar back at Lihue Airport three weeks ago. Further, she’s reported an unmarked black helicopter coming and going just at dusk or dawn around the Na Pali Coast area, on the north side of the island.”

“Even though she doesn’t work for you anymore, it sounds like she keeps pretty good tabs on the island for you,” Dev said with a slight smile.

“Well,” Morgan hedged, “let’s put it this way. I was the one who contacted her. I sent the professor’s photo over the Internet to her. I asked if she’d seen him around the airport she flies out of, and she said she had. When I asked if she’d seen anything unusual by way of flights or airplanes, she mentioned the black helo.”

Intrigued, Dev asked, “So you think the professor is on Kauai right now and you want me to verify that?”

“Yes, and I want you to persuade Kulani to join you.” Morgan held up his hand in warning. “And before you say no, hear me out,” he growled. “This mission is going to absolutely take both of you. I’m choosing you because of your mountain climbing skills. I need her to help you because she has equal skills in climbing. Plus she knows those damned dangerous valleys where the professor’s lab is located and the sheer lava cliffs you’re going to have to climb down to get there, better than anyone.”

Morgan slowly stood up and turned around. Pulling down a screen, he pointed to the detailed map of Kauai pictured there. “These lava cliffs on the Na Pali Coast are twenty-two hundred feet high. They’re sheer, vertical faces with nothing but lichen, grass, moss, ferns and brush clinging to their surface. Kulani grew up climbing these cliffs. She knows them like the back of her hand. And she knows the Kalalau Valley, where we believe the professor has his lab hidden. We can’t go busting in there with a military force. If the professor is there, and he hears us coming, he’s liable to let loose some of that anthrax and put the entire island’s population at risk. I’m working with FBI headquarters, as well as with their field office located on the Big Island. We’ve got the green light to try and get in there and insert a team to verify the professor and his lab are there. If you can take ’em out, you’ll do it. Quickly, quietly and cleanly. I want Valdemar alive, if possible. We know he’s making enough anthrax for a top event. You and Kulani will stop him.”

Dev shook his head. “Morgan, I’ve climbed every mountain in North America. Climbing is a single sport.”

“No, it’s not. It’s teamwork between you and the others you’re roped with, and you know that.” He scowled. “Besides, I’ve got other problems. This mission is far from stable at the moment.”

“Oh?” Dev gazed down at Kulani’s photo. Damn, but she was a delicious-looking woman. And what a dichotomy she was—part goddess of the old Hawaiian culture, part modern-day woman and helicopter pilot. Hell, it would be worth taking the mission just to meet her, he thought, grinning to himself. Outwardly, he kept his expression carefully neutral and monitored because he knew Morgan could read a person like a book, quite literally sometimes.

Grumpily, Morgan said, “Kulani doesn’t want to take this mission.”

Dev couldn’t help himself; one corner of his mouth lifted—just a tad. That wouldn’t stop him from meeting her, however. She was too much of a looker not to check her out. Dev liked women. All kinds of women. But while he enjoyed them, he refused to get entangled—ever. After a good time, maybe some good, mutual loving, it was time to part company.

“That’s okay by me. I can handle a little rappelling down a cliff to get what you want.”

Morgan sighed. “It’s not that easy, Dev. Don’t you think, if it was, I’d tell you to undertake this mission alone? The sheer walls of lava that embrace these deep valleys on Kauai are unlike any other mountaineering challenge. That’s why you need Kulani.” Running his fingers through his hair, Morgan muttered, “And she refuses to help us. To help you.”

“It wouldn’t hurt for me to go and meet her. Maybe I can change her mind.” But Dev had other things in mind he’d rather persuade her to do, like have dinner with him. Hell, if he was going to undertake this mission in Kauai, he might as well go down and meet her.

“I hope,” Morgan said, leaning back in his chair and intently studying Dev, “that you can talk her into working with you. Use that considerable charm you’ve got to persuade her.”

“Morgan, I can’t promise you anything.” Dev wasn’t about to twist Kulani’s arm to work with him. He wouldn’t promise Morgan that. Dev Hunter worked alone and that was that. But there wouldn’t be any harm in meeting her.

Eyes narrowing, Morgan growled, “You will not go on this mission alone. If you can’t get Kulani to agree to it, you call it off and we’ll turn the problem over to the FBI.” Morgan held up his index finger. “We have one chance. And it involves two people or it’s a no-go. Do you understand?”

The heavy warning in Morgan’s voice put Dev on alert. He wondered if his boss was reading his mind. No, that was impossible. Closing his fists, he said, “I’ll do my best. That’s all I can tell you.”

Nodding, Morgan relaxed slightly. “Okay, you fly to Kauai, get in touch with Kulani and then let me know what goes down. If she’s not on board for this mission, then we’re out of it in a heartbeat.”

Rising, Dev smiled slightly. “I’ll do my best to charm her. Usually, women can’t resist me.”

“Kulani isn’t like most women you know,” Morgan warned. “She’s like a daughter to me. I admire her. I respect the hell out of her. Lately, life has dealt her a pretty rotten hand. You’re going to have your hands full, Hunter, and not like you think.”

Dev’s grin widened boyishly. “I just can’t imagine any woman turning me down. That hasn’t happened in so long I can’t remember the last time.”

Morgan chuckled. “I’ll give you an A for confidence, Hunter. There’s more info in the file you need to read up on. But do that on the flight to the islands. Be in touch.”

Dev nodded. He picked up the folder and placed the color photo of Kulani inside. “This assignment definitely has perks. I’m looking forward to persuading Ms. Dawson to work with us.”

Well, maybe that wasn’t exactly the truth, Dev admitted as he left the office. Kulani Dawson would make his life interesting, but he didn’t need her help going into that dinky little valley and finding the turncoat professor. He’d get as much information about the climb from Kulani as he could, without having to partner up with her. So, he’d mix wooing a pretty lady with a little business, and then head out on the mission alone. No woman was capable of the sustained and dangerous demands this mission would make on her. Anyway Morgan was just being overcautious, as usual.

Nope, dinner, definitely. But as to making Kulani his partner, that would never happen. Not ever.

Chapter Two

Kulani Dawson greeted the morning with dread. The phone call from Morgan Trayhern the night before had left her raw and hurting. As she moved around her bungalow, the bright orange-and-purple bird-of-paradise blooming outside the kitchen nook looked strong and resilient compared to how she felt as she prepared her coffee.

Normally, Kulani eagerly looked forward to the delicious quiet of this time of day. The bungalow lay at the end of a dirt road, a mile from the main highway that encircled most of the garden isle of Kauai. From the kitchen window of her home, which sat high atop a hill surrounded by pink and red begonia bushes nearly three feet tall and slender palms silhouetted against the sky, she could see the hint of an apricot dawn lovingly lavishing the Pacific Ocean.

Dressed in a pair of comfortable khaki slacks and a peach-colored, short-sleeved blouse, she swept strands of her thick, black hair, still loose and falling almost to the middle of her back, away from her face as she sat down and sipped the fragrant coffee. The glass slats of the window were open to allow the cool morning air into the bungalow. Because Kauai lay in the middle of the ocean, there was always a breeze. Kulani leaned back in the well-worn, white wicker chair, resting the colorful cup decorated with red hibiscus between her long fingers and watching the breeze move the mighty fronds of the palm trees that surrounded the property.

This place was her haven. Her healing. Her mother, one of the most beloved kahunas in the islands, had birthed her here thirty years ago with the help of several of her sister kahunas. Kulani had been brought into the world with welcoming love, in beautiful, natural surroundings. As she thought of her mother now, her gaze moved to the black-and-white photo on the wall near the window—a picture of her parents with their arms around one another, smiling. She’d purposely placed the bamboo-framed photo of them there where she could see it each morning, and it always made her smile. It also brought sadness over the memory of their early demise in a car accident five years ago.

Sipping the coffee, Kulani’s midnight eyes darkened with pain. She’d lost her parents. And then…Quickly, she swerved away from the emotional powerhouse of thoughts and feelings surrounding the loss of her fiancé a year and a half ago. Struggling, she forced the memories deep down inside her. Morgan’s unexpected call had torn loose the heavy steel door she’d placed against that terrible day when she’d lost the rest of her world. Lost her will to live her life with the passion she had before.

Normally, she savored the sweet, nutlike taste of the Kauai plantation coffee she drank each morning, but her peace had been shattered. Why had Morgan asked the impossible of her? Kulani had come to think of Morgan as an adopted father. He’d certainly treated her like a daughter. If not for him, for his flight to Kauai after the unthinkable accident, Kulani would have been alone in the aftermath.

Morgan’s presence had been a balm to her during the ordeal. He’d organized the funeral, taken care of the paperwork, the police and the insurance people when she could do little else but sit in shocked, almost catatonic silence or suffer incredible storms of weeping, anger and guilt. Morgan had been there for her through it all. Oh, she’d heard of his famous care when mercenaries who worked for him at Perseus got into trouble. And Kulani had talked to more than one merc who had been blessed with Morgan’s presence during some traumatic event. But she had never expected Morgan to be there for her as he had.

Closing her eyes momentarily, Kulani took in a deep, shaky breath of air. Morgan had helped her piece her life back together after that tragic day. He’d put her on leave with full pay. He got Dr. Ann Parsons, a flight surgeon and psychiatrist, to fly over to Kauai and help Kulani through the worst of her grief. When all was said and done, Kulani could not force herself to go back to work—at least, not the type of work she’d done before.

She’d flown to Montana, to that little mining town nestled deep in the Rocky Mountains where Morgan made a life for himself and his growing family. Save for her father, she’d rarely seen such family devotion in a man, as she saw in Morgan. And it was then that she began to realize she was like family to Morgan and not just an employee, another cog in the wheel of Perseus. She and Morgan had sat deep underground, in the war room of his facility, and talked. She knew he was a terribly busy man, yet on that afternoon he acted as if she were the only focus he had in his complex and pressing world. Laura, his wife, was pregnant with the twins back then and she had gone into labor the day Kulani was there. The call from the midwife came in just as she and Morgan were finishing their meeting.

Opening her eyes now, Kulani let her gaze drift to another photo below that of her parents. It was of Laura, looking very tired but happy, with her twins, Peter and Kelly, in her arms. Morgan sat behind her, his massive arms around her and the newborns, making the babies look tiny in comparison. His eyes shone with pride and happiness. Kulani had been privileged to be at their home while the midwife, along with Morgan, had helped Laura welcome their newest children into the world. The photo was one of the many she’d snapped that day with her camera. And she’d rolled up her sleeves and helped out around the house. Not that Morgan and Laura didn’t have nearby friends who also came to help. But Morgan had made Kulani feel part of his family and she’d wanted to be there for him and Laura.

Swallowing hard, Kulani avoided Morgan’s smiling countenance. The next day, when she was preparing to leave her motel and fly home after telling Morgan she was quitting Perseus, she’d gotten a phone call from him. He’d invited her over to the house for lunch. She’d gone over and watched him bungle through making soup and crackers. Morgan wasn’t exactly a hausfrau, but in her eyes and heart, his awkward attempts made him even more lovable. He’d proudly made Laura, who was spending the first day after the births in bed, the same fare. Kulani was sure it was welcomed, despite its simplicity. The heart behind the offering was what counted.

When Morgan had sat down to eat with her at the kitchen table, he’d asked her what she wanted to do as a “civilian.” Trying to smile, she’d told him of her dream to buy her own helicopter and start a touring business on Kauai. She wanted to share the incredible beauty, the sacredness of her island, with those who were drawn to the place she called home.

It was Morgan who suggested that he float a loan for the 1.3 million dollar Aerostar helicopter for Kulani to start her business. She’d sat there, mouth agape, stunned at his offer. There was no way she could afford to swing such a loan herself. Who had a million dollars to throw around?

Perseus did. Morgan told her to fly home, contact the aircraft manufacturer, put in her order for the Aerostar, and he’d handle the rest of the paperwork. It was a loan in his name, and she could send him monthly payments at a very low rate of interest, to pay him back. She’d accepted his incredible generosity.

That was a year and a half ago. Kulani had come home, accepted the Aerostar at the Lihue Airport and built a lasting name on the island for her touring services, Rainbow Air. All thanks to Morgan, who had picked up the pieces of her life and given them back to her. But there was still a huge, gaping wound in Kulani. She could feel the emptiness sometimes when she waxed philosophical. Every time she had to fly past the Na Pali Coast, the most beautiful and dangerous part of her island home, her gut would clench. Over time, the clenching stopped, and so had a lot of the emotional turmoil that flying near the scene of the tragedy caused. Maybe the fact that her tour route took her past the coast every day, five days a week, had helped some of her initial emotional reactions toward it to fade. Her flight service was so popular that she had a third of the loan to Morgan already paid off. Just the day before Morgan’s recent phone call, Kulani had been thinking that for once her life was steady and predictable. No more chaos. Just doing what she loved most: flying. Yesterday she would have sat here and said she had nearly everything she could ever want in life. Almost.

Today, the taste of ashes filled her mouth. Her heart felt bruised when she thought of the wrenching phone call, like someone had placed a belt around her chest and was tightening it. Torn between her loyalty for Morgan, and her own still unhealed grief, Kulani felt shaken to the core. She knew Morgan needed her help—desperately. He wouldn’t have asked her otherwise. And yet she’d hung up on him like an immature teenager who hadn’t yet mastered her emotions. She needed to call him back. But something whispered to her not to try it today. Still feeling too raw, Kulani honored her own need to take time to get down off the roller coaster of emotions Morgan had torn loose in her once again. She couldn’t take the mission, but she could at least apologize for her behavior and let him know that she just didn’t have what it would take to help him. Kulani knew Morgan would understand. He was one of the most insightful human beings she’d ever had the privilege of knowing.

Looking at the simple gold watch with the dark brown leather band on her wrist, Kulani realized it was time to go. Usually she looked forward to her work—taking six people five times a day on one-hour flights around her beautiful island. Today her heart wasn’t in it. She wanted to stay home. Maybe do some cooking, which she loved but rarely had time for anymore. Or to putter in her mother’s herb garden, which she had replanted after she’d come home to stay. There was something soothing and nurturing about sliding her fingers into the rich, warm volcanic soil of the island. It was healing. And right now, she needed a little time out to do just that. But a million-dollar helicopter did not get paid off by her sitting around and feeling sorry for herself.

What would today bring? What kind of people? Any quirky characters? Today it would take everything for her to remain pleasant, to pretend she was enjoying their company as much as they were falling in love with her beautiful isle.

Dev hoped he didn’t look too conspicuous in his bright red, short-sleeved shirt liberally splashed with white hibiscus. Donning a pair of aviator-style sunglasses, he hoped that he looked like a tourist—more aptly, a fish out of water. He stood at the back of the small group of people, all thrilled and excited about their upcoming flight around the gorgeous, green-mantled island of Kauai. Dev’s gaze was riveted on the Rainbow Air Aerostar, a white helicopter with a brilliant rainbow painted across the fuselage. Inside it, he could see the pilot, Kulani Dawson, with a clipboard in hand, apparently finishing up some last-minute paperwork. He couldn’t see her well from this distance, but his heart hammered a little every time he remembered that luscious photo of her dancing the hula. In fact, she had haunted him during the six-hour flight across the deep blue Pacific to this little island hideaway.

Dev told himself that his reaction to her was so strong simply because he was between relationships. He truly enjoyed women—the way they thought, the way they reacted—and he liked trying to adjust his world to fit theirs. There were definitely differences between men and women he acknowledged. And maybe those differences were the reason his first marriage had been destroyed. Or maybe it was…other things. Frowning, he adjusted his sunglasses. The bright sun was angling toward the west. It was 3:00 p.m. and he knew this was Kulani’s last flight of the day. After rearranging the camera he’d slung across his shoulders, he pulled the bill of his baseball cap low over his eyes, shading them. The hat, an old, beat-up Orioles’ baseball cap that he wore religiously, probably didn’t look exactly tourist-like. But he’d been a fan since a little kid and now that he was a big kid, he enjoyed the sport just as much. He certainly wasn’t going to give up his favorite hat for the sake of his ruse.

As he stood waiting and wishing Kulani would emerge from her Aerostar, he noticed the trade winds were deliciously warm at this time of day. He looked up to see the central volcano, Mount Waialeale, long extinct, and clothed in the green of jungle trees and brush, rising from the center of the large island. At the top of the volcano were the perennial white clouds that formed because of icy temperatures at that altitude. Around him, the airport throbbed with the coming and going of other helicopter services, which operated like ceaseless, busy bees, onloading and offloading six passengers at a time. Though all the helicopters were on the same tarmac, Rainbow Air had the first landing apron and seemed to stand apart from the hustle and bustle.

Indeed, Dev had been impressed with the calm, the quietness of Kulani’s employees at her office, situated across the street. The mobile structure had beds of colorful flowers around the entrance—definitely a woman’s touch, setting it off from the concrete buildings, steel fences and angular aluminum structures that comprised the rest of the airport. Inside, a beautiful young woman, crisp and efficient, had smilingly welcomed the clients. It was obvious to Dev she enjoyed people and her job. There had been comfortable rainbow-colored seats to wait in, and another young employee had prepped them for the coming tour. There was real Kauai coffee and papaya-laced iced tea for those who desired it. Every detail and amenity for the paying passengers had been lovingly attended to.

His curiosity about Kulani had only grown while he’d waited for the flight to return and disgorge its passengers. Dev had thumbed through a huge photo album of people—all smiling as they stood beside the Rainbow Air helo—who had flown with Kulani and written glowing letters of thanks to her. So, was she really an old Hawaiian goddess in the guise of a human being? Her touch, a rainbow touch, was everywhere.

He snapped out of his reverie as he saw her open the door and emerge from the pilot’s seat. Finally he was going to get to meet her in person. His heart thumped once, underscoring his reaction to her as she rounded the nose of her aircraft and walked briskly toward them, the clipboard pressed to her breast. She was tall. Much taller than he’d realized—possibly close to six feet. And slender, like the palms growing all over Kauai. Yes, she was as graceful as a palm, he thought, but it was more than that. She was comfortable with her body, with the fact she was a woman. The slight sway of her hips, the flowing walk as she approached them, made his heart trip unexpectedly. As his gaze moved upward, Dev felt smothered by an unfamiliar feeling. His chest expanded with a wild euphoria that took him completely by surprise. It was as if a shock were being jolted through him as he absorbed her features. Her hair, black with bluish highlights in the strong sunlight, was twisted up and neatly pinned in a French roll behind her head. Tendrils touched her temples and high cheekbones, and soft strands brushed her broad forehead, nearly touching her arched eyebrows. She wore aviator sunglasses, so he couldn’t make out her eyes, but there was plenty more about her to occupy his piqued interest.

Her face was square, her chin stubborn looking and her lips, breathlessly parted, were full, reminding him of a lush orchid just opening for the first time. Her nose was fine and straight in the midst of her beautifully symmetrical features. Everything about Kulani suggested grace and overall harmony. As she came closer, she gave everyone a slight, welcoming smile, but somehow he sensed her heart wasn’t in it. Why? Was she tired? Burned out on tourists? He knew he could never do what she was doing. Working with the public wasn’t his idea of a great job. People were always so picky and demanding. However, as Kulani slowly approached, he sensed she truly enjoyed people. Just like that employee she’d hired to manage her office.

Kulani reached up in one graceful motion, her long fingers curling gently against the sunglasses as she removed them from her face. Dev felt as if he was being struck in the chest. He sucked in a deep, shaking breath. Kulani’s eyes were huge, as black as the heated tropical nights and shining with life. Her thick black lashes framed them beautifully. When her lips curved upward, Dev was very glad he’d taken this assignment. She was dessert. The best kind. The obvious intelligence in her eyes marked her as someone who knew about life, and the light in them showed that she was no stranger to laughter. Dev knew she had a sense of humor. Maybe he could coax it out of her?

Suddenly, his trip to Kauai wasn’t looking so bad, after all. Kulani Dawson was worth the flight and then some, in his opinion. His own mouth curved recklessly. From a purely male standpoint, she was worth chasing, capturing and hotly loving. As she came to a halt before the group, her smile warm and engaging, Dev automatically stepped forward to be in the sunlight of her presence, as did the rest of the eager passengers, who crowded into a tight semicircle around her.

“Good afternoon, everyone. I’m Kulani Dawson, your pilot.” She turned and gestured gracefully toward the helicopter. “I hope to give you a magical tour around the island I was born on. This is our ‘steed’ for today’s ride. Let me check the manifest here and get to know you a little before we are whisked away on our rainbow journey.”

His skin prickled pleasantly. Kulani had a low alto voice that reminded him of honey—honey trickling moltenly across his flesh, making him want to reach out and slide his fingers along the slope of her cheekbone. She wore absolutely no makeup, but with her natural beauty, Dev felt it suited her not to. Her movements were unhurried and always graceful, her eyes engaging with whomever she spoke as she went through the names on the roster she held. His heart began picking up in beat as she reached his name, the last on the list.

“Mr. Jack Carson?”

“Roger that,” he said with a grin. Unaccountably, he felt like an awkward teenage boy. His palms grew sweaty in anticipation. Because Kulani had worked for Perseus at one time, he didn’t dare use his real name. If she got wind that he was a Perseus merc, she might balk at giving him any background information. Morgan had warned that she had cut herself off from her former life. And because of that, using an alias was Dev’s only option. He didn’t like doing it, but he had no other choice at this point.

Kulani felt her heart gallop unexpectedly at the reckless, little-boy smile the tall man at the back gave her. Her intuition niggled at her. He was out of place here. He looked like a tourist, but the way he stood, tall and erect, his knees slightly flexed beneath the navy blue Dockers he wore, said differently. Assessing him keenly, Kulani moved past his warm, devastating smile. His hair was cut military short and he stood like a boxer ready to make a lightning-quick move. Her senses had rarely been wrong. Even though he wore the loud red Hawaiian tourist shirt, he was no vacationer to her island, a voice told her.

Looking down at the manifest, she asked, “How much do you weigh, Mr. Carson?”

He chuckled and placed his hands on his hips. “How much do I have to weigh in order to sit next to you?” Dev knew that the people who weighed the least sat up in the two front seats with the pilot. He knew he’d never get such an opportunity, but wanted to let her know he liked her. But though he’d thought she’d find his reply funny, because the rest of the group chortled over it, he saw her brows dip.

“You could be the weight of a sparrow and you still wouldn’t get a front seat, Mr. Carson.” Kulani’s heart was beating a little harder now. Damn, she couldn’t see his eyes behind those very dark sunglasses. That bothered her. Already the day had been long and harrowing. Emotionally, she was raw and simply wanted to go home, take a hot bath and be alone. This man, whoever he was, unsettled her for no discernible reason. Kulani admitted he was drop-dead handsome. Not in a pretty-boy way, though—not with his darkly tanned face weathered by life, and the crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes. Deep dimples flashed whenever he gave her that heated, teasing smile. Really, there was nothing to dislike about him. She could see a lot of scars and nicks on his large hands, the muscles of his arms confirmed his terrific athletic condition. There was no fat on this man—at all.

“How about a canary?” he replied with a grin.

Again the group laughed heartily, glancing back and forth between the pilot and Dev.

“How about no?” Kulani said sweetly. She smiled despite how she was feeling. Who could resist this man? Her heart certainly couldn’t.

“I’m crushed, Ms. Dawson. Here I was told you were the closest thing on the islands to Amelia Earhart.” He held up his camera in jest. “I was hoping for a photo of you standing next to your bird.”

She regarded him seriously. “Bird” was a military term. Was this guy in the military? A spook? CIA? He was something, that was for sure. So why did she feel bothered by it? She had nothing to hide. And then she recalled Morgan’s mission and stiffened internally. Maybe the other intelligence agencies knew about the mission, too. But why would someone like him be here? She’d told Morgan no. She shook her head. None of it made sense.

“Sorry, Mr. Carson. I’ll be happy to take a photo of you and my bird after the flight, but that’s it.”

Dev felt a little guilty as he saw her eyes darken with censure over his pushiness. Looking more closely at her, he saw the beginning of shadows beneath her eyes. And there was strain around her tender, soft-looking mouth. The urge to reach forward, slide his hand across her slumping shoulders, almost undid him. Normally he wasn’t that eager to run to the aid of a woman he didn’t really know. Maybe it was that photo of her dancing that made him bolder than usual.

He nodded deferentially to her. “I’m in your capable hands, Ms. Dawson. You are more than worth the price of admission.”

Kulani tried to ignore the handsome stranger’s teasing. He certainly thought a lot of himself. Still, that engaging smile of his touched her deeply and she couldn’t shake the warmth in his voice as it blanketed her, making her feel just a tad better than before. “You will be the last to get in, Mr. Carson. I’m giving you the rear right window seat.”

Dev realized that was the most prized position in the rear of the aircraft. The flight over the island would entail all right turns, and the window was large enough so that a passenger with a camera could take some breathtaking photographs. Dev waited patiently as she stood at the door and ushered each passenger inside. When his turn came, he gave her another glorious smile.

“I think I’m in heaven. No, I take that back. Heaven is standing right in front of me.”

Kulani felt his larger-than-life presence as he brushed past her and climbed into the aircraft. “Heaven begins when we lift off, Mr. Carson.” She smiled a little. What a ham he was. He was playful without being derogatory, and she really had no need to feel uncomfortable. Yet something about him unnerved her.

“Tell me,” he said with his most charming smile, “what does your first name, Kulani, mean in Hawaiian?”

Kulani felt red-hot heat strike her cheeks as she stood anchored to the spot, unable to move. The man was positively glowing with a “gotcha” expression on his face. She laughed self-consciously. “It means ‘heavenly,’ Mr. Carson.”

With a gloating grin at all the other passengers, Dev said, “See? I was right—heaven is here with us, right now.”

“You’re incorrigible, Mr. Carson.”

With a slight bow of his head, he murmured, “Why, thank you, Ms. Dawson.”

After she got all the passengers in, Kulani circled her aircraft, looking for any telltale leaks or anything else out of place. Satisfied the helicopter was air worthy, she climbed into the left-hand seat. More than a little aware of Jack Carson staring at her from behind his sunglasses, she felt the side of her neck prickling pleasantly. All the rest of the passengers were smiling and chatting excitedly as they put on their protective earphones, hardly able to contain their anticipation over the forthcoming adventure.

Dev watched as Kulani’s hands flew with knowing ease across the instrument panel, switching on this or that toggle. He put his earphones on his head and heard soft classical music in the background. No detail was too small for her, he realized. As the rotors on the aircraft began to turn faster and faster, the vibrations went through him. He was enjoying watching her—maybe a little too much. Kulani Dawson was more than a looker; she was enigmatic, he decided. And he had seen her assessing him, too. Being able to coax one tiny smile out of her made him feel like Mark McGwire when he’d hit his seventieth home run.

Suddenly, Dev felt happier than he could ever recall. Since his devastating divorce years ago, a pall had hung over him. But simply by being in the general vicinity of Kulani Dawson, he felt his life take on a new, keen joy. It was something Dev had never experienced before. As the aircraft lifted off the tarmac and headed upward into the deep blue sky, he laughed softly and sat back. Morgan Trayhern sure as hell knew how to pair him up with the right woman. But Dev would never have her as a merc team member. Now, as far as a relationship was concerned, that was another matter—a honeyed one oozing with promise.

Chapter Three

Kulani began her formal introduction to her eager passengers as she gently lifted the helicopter off the asphalt tarmac of Lihue Airport. Ascending quickly to one thousand feet, the prescribed altitude for her aircraft, she started off on her usual route. Kulani wasn’t surprised to hear gasps of pleasure from the women passengers as the immense size and grandeur of Kauai came into view. They always appreciated Kauai’s incredible green beauty.

“Kauai is called the Garden Island for good reason,” she said as she moved her aircraft toward the western, drier side of the island. “You can see the magnificent dormant volcano—Mount Waialeale which we’ll visit later—in the middle of the island. As we fly around it, south to west, you’ll find a lot of sugar cane being grown below.”

“Not pineapple?”

Kulani’s neck prickled pleasantly. Jack Carson’s deep voice was like the rough lick of a cat’s tongue on her flesh. It wasn’t unusual for passengers to ask questions, but she’d never had such a response to a question before. “Not pineapple, Mr. Carson. Just a lotta sweet sugar cane on this island.”

She continued her talk. Kauai Community College sped by beneath them and they crossed the major road that encircled two-thirds of the island, the Kaumualii Highway. “As we go south, it gets a lot drier. There’s not as much rainfall down here as up on the north coast of Kauai. The main tourist hotels down in this part are located around Poipu. You can see the clear turquoise and emerald colors of a healthy ocean below us.”

“How about whales?”

It was Carson—again. He was leaning forward in his seat, his camera balanced between his very large hands.

“They come in from about November through May every year to calve their babies here. The north shore, the Na Pali Coast area, is where most of the sightings take place.” She licked her lips. Carson was so close. She felt vulnerable to his warm, vibrant presence. As if sensing her unease, he sat back in his seat. Internally, Kulani breathed a sigh of relief. Trying to concentrate on the changes of terrain taking place beneath her, she urged her helicopter toward the western side of the island.

The land below turned from green to the many different colors of dried earth. “What you see coming up beneath us is Waimea Canyon. When Mark Twain was here, he called it the Grand Canyon of the Pacific. The layers of earth represent different eruptions and lava flows. The canyon is ten miles long and one mile deep. For those who are hikers, you can actually walk thirty-six hundred feet down into the bottom of it.”

“I’d like to take that hike with you. You look like you could handle it.”

Carson—again. Kulani found his intrusions unsettling. Not in a bad way; rather, a good way. She absorbed his low, vibrating voice into her body and, surprisingly, into her heart. Maybe it was just because she was feeling vulnerable. After all, they were getting close to the Na Pali Coast, and Kulani dreaded this part of the trip. Already, her chest was beginning to feel as if a band were around it. And Carson’s voice somehow, almost miraculously, had dissolved her fears—if only momentarily.

“I don’t do hiking, Mr. Carson. I like to fly,” she teased back, her voice a bit off-key.

He chuckled deeply and took a few snapshots out the window. “If I pack the sandwiches, the bottle of wine and bring along some great desserts, will you go with me?”

The other passengers all chuckled at his joking. Kulani felt heat crawling up her neck and flooding her face. Blushing! Of all things. It didn’t look very professional, she was sure. Keeping her focus on the instruments before her, she laughed a little. “I know a whole lotta ants that would love to take you up on your offer, Mr. Carson.”

“Shucks, shot down again.” Dev grinned at his audience, who were all smiling and laughing with him. He saw the redness creep into Kulani’s soft, golden skin and he saw one corner of that incredibly luscious mouth pull slightly upward. Sensing that he had his foot in the door, he decided to work on getting her to go out to dinner with him tonight. One way or another. Right now, he felt like a hunter on the track of an animal he wanted to bring down. There was always the thrill of the chase for him where women were concerned, but Kulani wasn’t just any woman. She was unique. Sultry. Enigmatic. He didn’t quite know what was going on in that head of hers. He wished he could look her in the eye, but from this angle, all he could see was her clean, aristocratic profile.

They flew over the canyon, then on toward the northern part of the island. Clouds that were forming like white cotton candy along the green-clad slopes mesmerized Dev. The whole scene was beautiful.

“What you’re seeing right now,” Kulani said, “are the misty forests of Koke State Park, woodlands that surround this incredible canyon. We’re going to rise and follow the brush-and-tree-clad slopes to the top, on the other side of which is the Na Pali Coast.” Her throat closed. She felt grief surge through her. Automatically, her hands tightened around the collective and cyclic. Her heart began to beat a little harder as the helicopter began to climb the verdant slope toward the top of the ridge that separated the canyon from the coast.

“Hey,” Dev said, pointing his finger between Kulani and the passenger seated beside her, “isn’t that a hiking trail right on top of this ridge?”

Shaken by his sudden closeness and his intensity, Kulani said, “Why, yes, it is…thousands of tourists hike that trail every year. It’s a slippery track made of clay, and it’s always misting rain up there. A lot of people get hurt because they don’t wear proper foot gear or they’re not prepared for the changes in temperature and weather, which happen almost hourly at that elevation.”

Dev was less than twelve inches away from Kulani. He heard the breathlessness in her voice. He saw the corner of her mouth dig inward, as if she were hurting. And as he perused her more closely, he saw tiny dots of perspiration standing out on her brow. She was having a reaction to something. Him? He hoped not. His ego wouldn’t be able to handle the possibility that he bothered her. The feeling around her was one of tightness. Even her lips were compressed, no longer soft and accessible as before.

“Is it possible,” he asked, “to climb from that path down into the Kalalau Valley? It looks like the trail stops at the top of the ridge.”

Stunned by Carson’s question, Kulani felt an incredible surge of pain in her heart. She brought the helicopter to a hover well above the trail so that her passengers could get their first look at the Na Pali coastline. “Uh, yes…yes, I guess you could.” Swallowing hard, she rasped, “The trail is a point where a climber could choose to scale that wall and descend into the valley below. It’s a highly dangerous climb. The valley is twenty-two hundred feet deep, with steep, vertical, black lava walls on three sides. Your handholds are minuscule—little holes and cracks here and there. As the lava cooled, the rock became bumpy and concave, and you might get a handhold if you’re lucky. You must rely on lines and pitons to scale it. It’s very risky. People have died trying to descend from that trail into the canyon.”

Dev heard the rattling in her low voice and saw her face go ashen. He frowned as he glanced out at the red clay trail that zigged and zagged along the top of the ridge forming the northern lip of Waimea Canyon. On the other side of the ridge was one of the most photographed spectacles in the world.

The Na Pali Coast looked as if, millions of years ago, a giant had dug his sharp fingernails into the lava cliffs, leaving five gouged-out valleys in their wake. All were clothed in an incredible verdant splendor, with stubborn brush, grasses and orchids clinging to the sheer walls. Down below, he noted, was the Kalalau Valley—his target. His heart beat a little harder in anticipation as he perused the area with the eye of a mountain climber. Kulani was right: the vertical walls were covered in greenery—mostly ferns from what he could make out at this altitude. Gazing out the window toward the cobalt-blue Pacific, he saw a small trail winding across the landscape.

“What’s that other trail to the right?” he asked, pointing toward it.

Kulani gulped and tried to get a handle on her galloping pulse, her grief. She wanted to get away from the coast as soon as she could. She used Carson’s question to do just that. The deep, wide valley of Kalalau opened up beneath them in gaping splendor. On the valley floor was a river that splashed over smooth gray and black boulders, tumbling toward the ocean. “That’s known as the Kalalau Trail.”

“How do you get to it?”

“You can drive to it by going around the east end of the island. It’s a two-mile hike into Kalalau Beach—one of the toughest trails anyone will ever try. I advise good hiking boots, rain gear, a hat, water and food.”

“Not to mention a first aid kit?” Dev joked as they drew closer. They swept out over the blue-green ocean, which looked both emerald and aquamarine, depending upon the depth. White, foamy waves crashed against newly minted gold beaches uninhabited by human beings. The Na Pali Coast was forbidding from a mountain climbing perspective. But negotiable. Dev hadn’t climbed El Capitan in Yosemite for nothing. The walls of lava were just different, that was all. He felt confident he could climb down into the box canyon where the anthrax lab was reputed to be.

Kulani tried to smile, but didn’t succeed. “Yes, a first aid kit is very advisable. We get hikers all the time who trip over exposed tree roots or fall on the rocks and break an ankle.” She wanted to cry every time she saw the Kalalau Valley. It held too many bad memories and she was still tied to it emotionally, whether she wanted to be or not. Aiming her aircraft in a southeasterly direction, she brought it inland and headed toward the center of the island.

“Next, we’re going to fly very close to Manawaiopuna Falls. For those who saw the movie Jurassic Park, you’ll remember the opening sequence. This is the waterfall they shot for the picture.” Kulani concentrated on doing her job. She banked the aircraft. Below them and to her right was the spectacular waterfall.

Normally, the waterfall, which fell a thousand feet, thundering over gray and brown lava, always lifted her heart. Today, for some reason, it did not. And then she felt the gentle touch of a man’s hand on her right arm. It wasn’t a hard squeeze, but one that instantly soothed her grief.

“Ms. Dawson, any chance of hovering for a sec while I get a photo of this beauty?”

Jack Carson—again—only this time, she craved his touch. For as big a man as he was, with obvious strength and power exuding from him like a ten-million-watt sun, his touch was surprisingly gentle. He was a surprise, Kulani realized. As his fingertips left her arm, she stammered, “Well, s-sure…” and she halted the helicopter and turned it so that he could get a full view of the waterfall. There was a rainbow down below, in the mist near the oval pool at the waterfall’s base, and she knew the shot would be breathtaking.

“Thank you, Ms. Dawson.” Dev grinned broadly. He saw her nod, although her eyes never left the control panel in front of her. He felt the aircraft move gently to the left. What had possessed him to touch her? And he had liked doing it. In fact, his hand had been itching like fire itself to reach out and touch her. He was surprised at the firmness and muscle beneath that silky blouse she wore. The moment he’d touched her, she’d responded, and he had felt her strength, realizing there was nothing weak about this woman.

“I want to take you to the heart of my island,” Kulani said in a softened, husky tone. “The heart of the Hawaiian people is bound by everything around them—the air, the birds that fly in it, the life-giving ocean, the fish and the land creatures.” She banked the helicopter toward a large crater clothed in olive, avocado and emerald colors. “I’m going to take you inside the middle of Mount Waialeale, our largest dormant volcano. Only this isn’t just any volcano. This is the soul of Kauai, and of our people,” she continued in a hushed tone.

Dev was instantly snared by her low, honeyed voice as she told the story of her people, at the same time taking the helicopter downward. He saw a circular shaped, cavernous hole coming up. It looked like a dark, gaping wound in the landscape.

“Waialeale is the heart of our island, of our spiritual link with nature. Just enjoy as I slowly move the aircraft down into the central cone, where once, millions of tons of red-hot lava spewed out….”

Dev tensed. That crater was a good thousand feet deep. The walls were slick, gleaming with moisture provided by the clouds that hung above the volcano. The lava inside the walls was either black or a reddish, rusty color.

Kulani’s control of the aircraft was impeccable, for they moved smoothly over the lip and then sank down, down, downward. The shadows deepened, and as he looked up, he saw bright blue sky and sunlight far above him, but now they were in the embrace of the volcano. The shadow swallowed them up. The sky began to recede more and more as they descended deeply into the sacred crater.

“I’m sure all of you can feel it,” Kulani said with reverence. “We call this manna. It is the energy of spirit—of this volcano, of the old gods and goddesses of Hawaii, who still live here. We are privileged to experience it, to feel it….” She watched her instrument panel closely. The volcano crater was wide, but she only had about a fifty foot clearance on any side, so any abrupt move on her part would send them crashing into the mighty lava walls and tumbling to their deaths.

“In the olden times, when a king died, his body was dropped into this volcano. It was a sign of his greatness, and the living on of his mighty spirit.” Kulani gently touched the controls, turning the helicopter in a complete circle. She heard the gasps of pleasure, the cries of “Look!” and she smiled. Some of the pain she’d felt earlier was loosening its grip on her. Just being able to descend into this volcano was a healing for Kulani. And she found herself thinking that Jack Carson was healing, too. His touch had had a profound effect on her, whether she wanted to admit it or not.

Then, just as slowly, Kulani urged her aircraft up and out of the crater. Moving the cyclic and collective gently, she flew up and out of the cone to hover above it, so that the people on board could take pictures of a view they’d never forget.

As she rotated the helicopter in a semicircle, three different waterfalls could be seen, each falling three thousand feet, from the volcano’s massive shoulders to dark blue pools below. The crater was, indeed, a mystical place where dream met reality. Kulani loved this part of the tour. She could hear the soft sighs, the thrill in their voices, and she knew all of them had felt the manna, the power of the gods and goddesses. No one was left untouched by the ancient Hawaiian spirits in this experience—not even her.

Dev tried to quell his disappointment. All too soon, they were flying back to Lihue Airport. He checked his watch as they landed and saw that it was 5:00 p.m. Just in time for dinner. He smiled a little as Kulani shut down the engine after they’d returned to the tarmac of the busy little airport. Kulani was his—she just didn’t know it yet, that was all. So he waited like a patient wolf who had his quarry in sight. He saw her open the door and give the okay to disembark once the rotor blades had stopped turning.

Everyone climbed out, breathless and excited. Dev stood over by the fence and watched as Kulani snapped shot after shot of guests standing beside her colorful aircraft. It was a nice touch, a great way to advertise. The trade winds were soft and warm, moving through her ebony hair and catching the blue highlights now and again. Dev feasted his gaze upon her. Her every move was so graceful, and again that photo of Kulani dancing the hula came back to him as he waited for the last patron to leave the tarmac and head across the street, the adventure at an end.

Kulani’s back prickled. There was one customer left. Jack Carson. Slowly turning, she saw him leaning languidly against the cyclone fence, one foot lifted against it, his massive and muscular arms crossed in front of his barrel chest. There was so much power and masculinity in this man. Yet Kulani had felt his touch, and it was anything but that. He knew how to be tender. Few men did, and that was a travesty. That was why she was drawn to him—that incredible sense of care and tenderness radiating like a beacon from him.

Kulani literally felt as if she were blanketed by his watchful gaze. Tilting her head to one side, she looked at him.

“Do you want your photo taken with my bird, Mr. Carson?” She saw a slow smile ease across his lips. He had a nicely shaped mouth and that careless little-boy hitch on the left side endeared him to her. Wishing once again that he’d take off his sunglasses so she could see his eyes, Kulani laughed at herself. It had been a long time since she’d been genuinely interested in a man. Any man, as a matter of fact.

“Well,” he drawled, dropping his foot to the tarmac and unwinding slowly, “you could do me a favor, Ms. Dawson.” He stood up and met her halfway. “I really would like a photo of you standing next to your bird here. How about it?”

Kulani smiled a little and gazed up at him. This man was so confident it sizzled out of every pore. “I don’t normally pose for customers, Mr. Carson.”

He saw her frown a little at his request and intuitively realized that his sunglasses might be offputting, so he removed them and looked deeply into her eyes. Instantly, he saw them widen with what he thought was surprise, and then…pleasure? Was that what he was reading in them? Dev was unsure. However, he was sure that he wanted Kulani.

Kulani choked back a little gasp of pleasure when Jack Carson spontaneously took off his dark sunglasses. His eyes, large, hard and intelligent looking, were the deep green of the jungle floor of her beloved Kauai, the pupils large and black, with a thin rim of forest green surrounding them. There were gold highlights sparkling deep within his gaze, and she could feel his playfulness, his warmth toward her. And she wanted more, but suddenly felt awkward about it. She hadn’t felt like this since—She quickly squashed the errant thought.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Dev said in a husky voice tinged with humor. “If you’ll let me take a photo of you with your bird, I’ll spring for dinner tonight at the Kilohana Plantation. I’ve heard Gaylord’s Restaurant has excellent food. How about it?” Never had Dev wanted a woman to say yes more than in this instant. He saw Kulani’s beautiful ebony eyes widen.

“I don’t normally go out with customers, Mr. Carson.”

“Call me Jack,” he said, and cringed. Dev wanted to tell her the truth, but he didn’t dare. At least, not yet. He knew he could climb down into the Kalalau Valley by himself now that he’d viewed it from the air. He didn’t need Kulani. At least—not in that way. He saw her in his arms, in his bed, her lips against his mouth. No, she definitely had a place in his life—but not at his side as a mountain climbing guide on a merc mission.

When he saw her lips part, sensed the protest coming, he held up his hand and said, “Okay, okay…no problem. No photo of you and your bird, but you have to agree to have dinner with me tonight. I understand Gaylord’s is the place to take a beautiful woman. You can’t say no, Ms. Dawson. I’ll keep you well entertained and we’ll have a lot of laughs.” He held up his hands. “No monkey business. That’s a promise.”

She met and held his verdant gaze, which was shining with confidence. “I can handle monkey business, Mr. Carson. And no, I don’t want to go out….” She was lying and she knew it. She hoped Carson didn’t see that she was. Why on earth was she even considering his invitation? She’d had plenty of other male passengers make offers for dinner before, and it had been easy to turn them down. But not this time. Not with this stalwart, egotistical guy dressed in a bright red-and-white Hawaiian shirt, and wearing a crooked grin on his mouth.

“Now, I can’t see you running home to just sit all night, read the newspaper and watch television.”

She laughed a little and then shook her head. “You’re something else, Mr. Carson.”

“Call me Jack,” he said again. “Am I right? You’re not the homebody type?” He motioned to her arm. “You got a set of muscles under that beautiful veneer of yours. My hunch is you do something pretty physical and strenuous to stay in shape. Am I right?”

Her heart twinged. “I mountain climb. I—I mean,” she stammered, “I did. I don’t anymore.” And she began to pray that the past would finally ease up and leave her alone. She saw his eyes glitter with interest. Almost like a wolf who considered her prey. Inwardly, Kulani trembled with anticipation.

“Ah, we have something in common. I’m a mountain climber, too.” He gestured toward the dormant volcano. “I climbed Mount McKinley in Alaska just the other year. You ever climb El Capitan in Yosemite?”

All the talk of mountain climbing scared her. Kulani felt her stomach twist into a knot. “Please—” she held up her hand “—I don’t want to talk about the subject, Mr., er, Jack.” Any topic other than that one. Kulani moved away from him. It was as if the past were haunting her. She liked Carson. She even entertained the thought of having dinner with him. But she couldn’t talk about mountain climbing. The fact that he was a climber scared her the most. Hurriedly, she walked back toward her aircraft.

Dev was right on her heels. “Hey, slow down….” He reached out and gently snagged her arm. “I’m sorry if I stepped on some painful stuff.”

Surprised, Kulani pulled free of his gentle grip. His eyes were narrowed and assessing, and she knew that he was genuinely sorry, although she saw a lot of questions in his gaze. If he was smart, he wouldn’t ask. Holding up her hands, she whispered, “Look, you’re a very nice guy, but I can’t handle conversations about mountain climbing anytime soon, so let’s just—”

“No problem.” He grinned boyishly, hope gleaming in his eyes. “What would you like to talk about at dinner? I’m open. I’m a global traveler, so I’m sure I can handle a conversation about anything you’d like to chat about.” He saw the wind ruffle her hair playfully and he had a maddening urge to tame the dark strands back into place, but he didn’t dare. Kulani was holding herself stiffly, her arms crossed against her chest.

“I just got back from Hong Kong. Now, there’s a place to go. Ever been there?”

Kulani frowned and allowed her arms to drop to her sides. “No…but I’ve wanted to go.” She turned, opened the door to the cockpit and retrieved her manifest.

“How about if I give you a guided tour of Hong Kong, then? We’ll get a little dinner, enjoy the stars above us as we dine, have a nice bottle of wine to celebrate the sky, and maybe have a few laughs.”

Walking slowly, Kulani moved around the nose of the helicopter. The sun was setting in the west and the shadows were growing dark and long. Jack Carson shortened his stride to match hers, moving easily at her side. He had his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his cotton pants, his head turned toward her, his eyes—those large, intelligent eyes, so assessing, as if he could read what was in her soul—touching her vulnerable, hard-beating heart.

“I can promise you a night of damn fine food and even more excellent company.”

Kulani was scared and she admitted it. Oddly, she felt he was telling her the truth. And for whatever reason, she capitulated. She didn’t look too closely at why. Her heart had been heavy with grief and depression minutes ago, but being around this man was making her feel buoyant once again. For the first time in a long time she wanted to live as she once had, to be out in a social environment, to participate in a world she’d closed herself off from so long ago.

“Well…”

“Listen,” Dev whispered roughly as he slid his hand around her upper arm and opened the gate leading off the tarmac, “you do what you gotta do to tie up loose ends around here. I can wait in the car, the white Mercedes over there, until you’re done. I’m new to the island, but I do know where Gaylord’s is. I’ll get you an early dinner and make sure you’re home in time for a good night’s sleep so you can fly tomorrow. Fair enough?”

He saw her face turn pink momentarily as he touched her. Dev wanted to touch her. He liked the firmness of her body. Grace with incredible feminine strength. Maybe the quiet, deep strength he sensed in Kulani was because of the Hawaiian blood that ran in her veins. Maybe…well, he was looking forward to finding out a whole lot more about her over a nice starlit dinner, that was for sure.

Her mouth twisted a little. “This is rare. You’re going to be my tour guide.”

Chortling, Dev walked Kulani across the highway toward her office. He forced himself to release her arm. Touching Kulani was habit forming. In fact, downright addictive. “I’m pretty colorful once I get started.”

Kulani’s heart lifted a little more. She definitely felt lighter. In fact, she felt hope—something that had died almost two years ago. “What is it about you, Jack?”

Dev winced at her use of his alias. He felt bad for maintaining his cover, but he had to. “Oh, I don’t know,” he crowed confidently, giving her a wink. “I’m single, young and eligible. I make a decent living and I enjoy life. How about you?”

Wrinkling her nose, Kulani halted at the steps to her office. Holding the clipboard against her chest, she gazed up at him. Right now, Jack Carson looked more like a little boy who had just stolen a frog from the pond and was going to show it off to all his buddies. Only she was the frog. Would he be as good as his word? Would he be just a dinner companion and not try any moves on her? Kulani wasn’t ready for that. She doubted she ever would be. But Jack Carson was an interesting man. Quickly closing the door on the fact that he was a mountain climber, she decided she could have an enjoyable night out with him.

“I live to fly,” she told him simply.

Dev smiled down at her. “My instincts tell me you like to do a lot of things, but let’s save dinner tonight for exploration, shall we?” He lifted his hand and moved toward his Mercedes, which was parked in the gravel lot.

Just the way he walked, his shoulders thrown back so proudly, the way he arrogantly lifted his head with that graceful, taut movement only an athlete had, made him very alluring to Kulani. With a shake of her head, she reminded herself that she had about thirty minutes of wrapping up details with her office manager before she could leave. As she climbed the wooden steps to her office, she smiled softly. She was looking forward to finding out more about the enigmatic Jack Carson….

Chapter Four

Dev was pleased with his surroundings. Gaylord’s Restaurant was the perfect place to take the woman who’d been on his mind from the moment he’d first laid eyes on her. He felt guilty about continuing his ruse as Jack Carson, but it couldn’t be helped, he thought, as he and Kulani walked toward the plantation headquarters, built in the 1930s during the golden days of the sugar cane era, to the restaurant. The lawns and shrubbery about the sprawling building were carefully manicured. Now the plantation had been turned into a number of boutiques, plus the famous restaurant. The two-story structure loomed above them as they walked up the marble steps and into the dimly lit foyer.

Without thinking, Dev placed his hand across the small of Kulani’s back as the maître d’ came to escort them to their table. Though Dev’s fingers barely brushed the material, he felt the strength and firmness of her body beneath her silk blouse. She looked up at him, an expression of surprise on her face at his touch. Quickly, he removed his hand.

“Sorry, it’s an old habit of mine,” he said with a wry smile. “Take a lovely woman who looks like a goddess from old Hawaii to dinner, and I just sort of lose my perspective.” When he smiled down at her, he saw her lips part. Groaning internally, he wondered if Kulani knew how damned provocative she appeared. Her hair, which had been pinned up earlier, now flowed like molten lava across her shoulders and upper back. The low lighting made it look like gleaming sapphires had been braided through the strands.

“Kauai inspires creative thinking,” Kulani agreed. Her flesh tingled wildly where his strong, guiding fingers had brushed her blouse ever so briefly. She knew that Jack wasn’t trying to grope her. He was a gentleman, a throwback to the men of the past who escorted a woman with a gallant flair. “And your gesture was a nice one. Thank you.”

Relieved, he smiled again. Glancing around at the hundred or so laughing, chatting patrons, Dev realized they were enjoying their meals without the knowledge that a mad professor with a worldwide terrorist organization might be making deadly anthrax in one of the beautiful, pristine valleys along the coast. The reality intruded harshly for a moment as he followed the maître d’ to the table. All these people could die, too, which was what made this evening with Kulani so important to him. Just for one night he was going to enjoy this woman completely, and then, tomorrow, he would face the raw reality of life in its worst moment.

Again he placed his hand in the small of her back as they were escorted out the French doors of the restaurant to a U-shaped terrace. Twilight was falling and he was delighted to see old-fashioned, turn-of-the-century lampposts spreading a casual, unobtrusive light. The dining area was filled with white-linen-covered tables and bamboo chairs with thick, cream-colored cushions. In the center of the patio was a cascade of flowers, ranging from yellow and red ginger, proud looking bird-of-paradise, spectacular red torch ginger thinly outlined in white, to delicate shell pink ginger. Plants that were easily ten to twelve feet high created a natural barrier from prying eyes around the outdoor restaurant. As Dev inhaled the delicate, sweet fragrance of ginger in bloom, he saw directly ahead of them the silhouetted mountains topped with a small dormant volcano called Kilohana Crater. Everything was clothed in purple and blue shadows in anticipation of the coming night.

Kulani saw the awe written in Jack’s expression as he seated her at the table. She smiled a little at how easily she could read what he was feeling; not many men allowed that kind of access to themselves. But then, she told herself humorously as she picked up the pale pink linen napkin and placed it across her lap, Jack Carson was so full of himself that he shouldn’t have any trouble at all showing how he felt at any time to anyone. The man’s confidence radiated from him like the sun at high noon. Kulani had noticed how many patrons had looked up as he’d entered the patio.

After the waiter took their drink order of iced guava juice, Dev folded his hands on the table and smiled at Kulani. “You know, with the backdrop of that shadowed volcano behind you, you look more and more like a daughter of Pele.”

She felt heat prickle her cheeks. Avoiding his gleaming, forest-green gaze, she picked nervously at the linen napkin in her lap and rearranged it—even though it didn’t need rearranging. “Oh…thanks…yes, sunset and sunrise are very dramatic on Kauai. Actually…” She lifted her head and finally met his gaze. There was such tenderness in his expression that she found her heart fluttering in response. Carson was a visual feast for her eyes. And Kulani was more than a little aware of other women looking appreciatively in his direction. “Actually,” she said again, clasping her hands in front of her, “Kauai is really an artist’s and photographer’s paradise. The light here is fantastic. I see changes in the landscape every time I fly over the island.”

“Don’t you get tired of flying the same route and saying the same things?” Dev inquired. He saw her lips draw into a slight smile.

“No, not at all. Every hour, the light shifts.” She waved her hand gracefully toward the spectacular flower-filled garden near where they sat. “Look at that incredible white-and-pink shell ginger.”

Dev looked at the long spike of cuplike white blossoms tinged with dark pink inside. “Yes?”

“Watch how the light shifts and changes on them. Every minute they’re a little different.” Inhaling, Kulani whispered, “I just love the fragrance of ginger. It’s wonderful.”

“I think that’s the perfume you were wearing today?”

She held his gaze. “Why, yes…I do wear ginger perfume.” Because some of her passengers had perfume allergies, Kulani was very careful to wear just a tiny dab behind each of her ears. No one had ever complained to her of it, so she figured no one could smell it except her. “You’ve got a nose like a wolf,” she said, laughing a little and taking a sip of her iced drink.

Cocking his head, Dev watched the twilight bathe Kulani like an old-master’s painting. The lamplight cast a golden color across part of her face while the twilight caressed her with darkness, accentuating the raw beauty of her full mouth and her straight, aristocratic nose and high cheekbones. “In my business, all my senses count.” He groaned internally at his words. Somehow, he’d dropped his guard. Damn! He instantly saw Kulani’s dark, thoughtful-looking eyes narrow a little speculatively. He didn’t want to continue to lie to her. Yet if he told her who he was, she’d more than likely get up and leave. The last thing he wanted was an aborted dinner engagement with her. Later, he’d come clean. Now, as he saw the question forming in her eyes, he quickly distracted her.

“So, excellent tour guide from Kauai, tell me about this wonderful old plantation we’re in. I like antiques, and judging from what little I saw as we walked in, this place was very expensive to build. Looks like the owners spared no expense. Teakwood floors aren’t exactly cheap.”

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