Chapter Two

My hotel wasn't nearly as grand as the beachfront resort, but there was something comforting about the open, stocky shape that reminded me of my apartment building in Trenton. It was pale yellow and looked as though it had seen better days. Put me in a second floor room that overlooked the parking lot and you might as well call it home. Accept my apartment building wasn't walking distance from Waikiki beach.

I wrestled my luggage through the automatic sliding glass doors and into the lobby, got my room key and repeated the procedure with the elevator, wishing that I'd packed lighter. I could have lived nine days in nothing but a bikini. I was sure of it. I shoved the suitcases out into the hall when I reached the third floor. There was a courtyard in the middle of the building, with outdoor hallways made of concrete that had a full view of the murky, cloud blanketed sky. It might have been pleasant if the sun was shining and it wasn't so humid. I could just feel my hair getting frizzier by the second. I dragged my bags to 315, stuck the keycard in and pushed through the narrow wooden door.

The room didn't smell great. I was hoping it was just my imagination. The second I turned the lights on I knew it wasn't. The place was dingy and depressing, with a drab tan and mustard yellow bedspread that probably hadn't been washed since ever. The furniture was flimsy utilitarian plywood with fake wood laminate finish. Bedside tables held cheap lamps with shades that matched the cream and tan hibiscus themed curtains. Fantastic. Guess it was a good thing it was only for one night. Any more and I might just choose to sleep on the beach instead.

I wandered toward the bed to pull off the manky comforter and let out a scream. There were dead bugs in the bed. Dozens of them. They might have been cockroaches or beetles. I didn't have any intention of getting close enough to find out which. I hurried to the phone to call the front desk and found even more bodies dotting the tabletop. Eew!

I wasn't investigating any further. I shoved my bags back out into the hall and crossed myself in a reflex I'd inherited from my mother.

I took a quick stock of my situation. I didn't really want to cart my things all the way downstairs again. I looked back at the door to the bug room. Didn't want to leave them in the room either. The bugs were dead. Didn't want to find out how they died. A speck of rain hit my forehead, and then another. In no time, a thin mist was falling over everything. I sighed and hunched my shoulders, gathering my bags against my will.

It took a half hour to sort everything out, but after several heartfelt apologies I was in a new upgraded suite, this time on the second floor, and there wasn't a bug in sight. The linens were white and freshly pressed. Walls and drapes were serene arrays of blue. Modern bathroom fixtures and a big flat screen television. So much better. I pulled everything off the bed and remade it myself, just to be on the safe side, and found it to be just as immaculate as it looked. I shucked my clothes and climbed in.

It had taken hours to fall asleep, no matter how tired I was. It's never comfortable the first night sleeping in a strange bed. It made it worse that I kept thinking about dead bugs. Even after I'd fallen asleep, I'd tossed and turned most of the night.

Sun was streaming in bright through the windows when I woke the next morning. I looked at the clock on my bedside table. 11:15. Jeez. Not only had the day started without me, it'd left me in the dust. I checked my phone and found a text message from Ranger with his flight information and arrival time. I was supposed to pick him up at two. I got warm and tingly in a few very specific places. A purely physical reaction, I told myself. This was business.

Oh, who was I kidding? Ranger had every intention of mixing business and pleasure. And if I was being honest with myself, part of me was looking forward to it. The rest of me was terrified.

Check out was at noon. I took a quick shower and did what I could to tame my hair. Not an easy fete with the aggressive level of curl. I scrunched some gel into it and hoped for the best, swiping on a little eye liner and mascara to make up for it in case things went horribly awry. I put on a pretty red and white wrap skirt that tied over my hip, exposing a glimpse of thigh when I walked, and topped it with a white knit tank top and flowing white overshirt. Added strappy sandals for good measure. I was going for sexy casual. I thought I pulled it off.

I looked at my watch. Just enough time to check out, and then I had two hours to kill before I had to head to the airport. Might as well grab some breakfast. I looked at my watch again. Make that lunch. Damn. And I really wanted breakfast. Stupid jet lag. Maybe there was a place nearby that would still make me pancakes.

I carted my bags back to my rental car and walked across the street to the beach. It was already filled. Half with surfers and locals that were bronzed and golden specimens in their skimpy beach attire. Half with tourist with sunburns and bodies gone soft from working in office caves that never saw the light of day. I felt comfortable that I was somewhere in between. Not tanned by any stretch, but not particularly flabby either.

I found a little cart that was selling coconut milk ice cream in waffle cones. I figured technically the first meal of the day counted as breakfast. And coconut is a fruit. That makes it healthy, right? And there's even a waffle involved. I bought a double scoop, perfectly happy with my rationalization. I took my healthy breakfast in hand, pulled off my sandals, and started down the beach.

They say that the sands on Waikiki have been shipped in from all over the world. Manhattan and California, Australia, even China. Needed to cover the jagged rocks left behind by the constant beatings from the elements. That might have been true once. Now most of the sand was pumped in from off shore, covering the miles of beach with a smooth finish that in some places is only a few inches deep. I paced along the shore, watching the surfers bob along the surface while I enjoyed my breakfast.

I wandered down to the international market. It was a crowded, open air bazaar with narrow avenues and vendors hocking everything under the sun. There were carts that sold inexpensive jewelry, handmade candles carved right on the street, wind chimes and key chains and pornographic playing cards, and canvass draped stalls that housed clothing and rubber-soled beach shoes. I looked through the sarongs that were hanging on a metal rack. A violet and black one caught my eye. It was decorated with brindled patterns around the white outlines of flowers and vines. They were on sale two for one, so I picked out another in solid black with large red hibiscus flowers and paid for them, heading back down the beach.

The airport was even busier than it had been the night before. It was hard to keep track of the flow as thousands of people moved in drifts from one end of the baggage claim area to the other. I tried to calm the angry butterflies in my stomach. It didn't feel quite right, being this excited over someone other than Morelli. Even though we weren't exclusive, and I wasn't technically doing anything wrong, there was still a part of me that felt like I was betraying him.

Then a familiar figure separated from the crowd and the dull ache turned into instant heat.

Ranger was possibly the most beautiful man I'd ever seen. He was about what you would get if Hercules was Cuban, with hair and eyes the color of dark chocolate and skin like smooth caramel wrapped around the perfect body of a warrior. There was also a darkness hidden in him that was undefined. I had a suspicion Ranger was still working off his twelve labors.

He stood still a moment, nearly six feet of immovable stone in the center of the flowing river. His pressed short sleeve linen shirt was an understated black on black, open at the collar to show several inches of his kissable mocha skin. Neither his shirt nor his black slacks were wrinkled from his fifteen hour flight. I never knew how he managed to look so good. It was almost unnatural.

His sharp eyes scanned the crowd. Then they settled on me and turned warm in a way that melted me right through my center.

Here's the thing about Ranger. He's smart. Sexy. Incredibly handsome and virile. And sometimes when he walks toward me like that I feel like I'm being stalked by a big, lethal black panther sizing up his next meal. And it sends a quiver through my body in all the best places. I hadn't known him all that well the first time we'd spent the night together. Just well enough to understand what a scary proposition it was. I'm not usually a one night stand kind of girl. Being raised Catholic gave me some pretty strict ideas about what constituted acceptable behavior. I'm not saying I always prescribed to them, but I always knew better.

A night with Ranger had been worth any guilt that might have come along with it.

I'd tried really hard not to repeat the experience. Not because it wasn't amazing. Ranger made love with an animal instinct that was intoxicating. No. My resistance was more out of self preservation than anything. Marriage and family weren't in Ranger's current life plan. He didn't exactly live a lifestyle that allowed for deep, meaningful relationships. I'd managed for a long time to keep the blistering chemistry between us at a low simmer. Until recently.

He didn't hesitate when he reached me, catching me with a gentle hand at the back of my neck. He kissed me and I couldn't help but lean into him. Pulled into his gravity by the change of air pressure that always surrounded him. It wasn't a scandalous kiss, nothing that would cause a scene in the congested airport, but for a few seconds I was afraid I was going to catch fire.

"You taste like coconut," he said, his lips still brushing mine.

"I had coconut for breakfast." Ranger drew back enough to look at me. Our eyes held for a second and I could see the humor shining there, crinkling at the edges. "Okay, it was coconut ice cream, but it had a waffle cone. That counts as breakfast."

"Babe."

I let go of his shirt and smoothed out the imaginary wrinkles. I could feel his tight stomach through the linen. He smelled incredible. Even after fifteen hours on a stuffy airplane, the scent of his Bulgari Green shower gel lingered. His fingers caressed the back of my neck. He was barely touching me and it still felt unbelievably intimate. I moved back so that I wouldn't be tempted to tear his clothes off in public. "We should get going," I said, thankful my voice didn't quiver like the rest of me.

Ranger smiled as if he'd read my thoughts. Smiling was rare for Ranger. He lived a high stress life that didn't give him a lot to smile about. Except for me. I seemed to have a talent for amusing him. He slung an arm around my shoulders and kissed me above my ear. "We can get going whenever you want."

Oh boy.

We hadn't gone more than a few steps before my feet froze. I hadn't been paying a lot of attention to the people around us, but it was hard to miss the 6'5" mass of hard Hawaiian muscle by the luggage carousel. He looked like he could rip me in half. He was bald, with bronze skin and a tribal tattoo that showed beneath the sleeve of his tight black T-shirt. I couldn't see his eyes behind his mirrored sunglasses, but I had the distinct feeling that he was watching us. I also knew it wasn't the first time I'd seen him today.

Ranger must have felt it when I faltered. "Something wrong?"

"I know it's weird, but I'm pretty sure that guy by the luggage carousel is following me. I saw him when I was at the international market place an hour ago."

"I'd have been disappointed if you hadn't spotted him."

I looked up at Ranger through narrowed eyes and a grin pulled at his mouth. "You had me followed?"

"Babe. You came to Honolulu by yourself. I texted Noah the second you told me Morelli was still in Trenton."

"Wow. Thank you for the vote of confidence."

Ranger's grip on my shoulders tightened and I felt more than heard the soft laugh that escaped him. "It's not a lack of confidence, Babe. Just a precaution."

"A precaution against what, exactly?"

"Hard to say. With you, just about anything is possible."

I elbowed him in his ribs and he laughed again. "So he's what? A bodyguard?"

"Local PI. He and his partner Rico work for Rangeman whenever business brings me to the islands."

Noah was standing at parade rest when we approached. He didn't wait for introductions. Just handed Ranger a set of keys. "Everything you've requested is in the car. Rico saw to the additional items this morning while I was with Ms. Plum. If you need anything else, just call."

Ranger nodded. "Steph, give Noah your keys so he can return your rental car. We won't be needing it."

"Okay, but all my stuff is still in it. I have to go get it out."

"Already taken care of," Noah said.

I raised my brow at Ranger and held the keys out for Noah. He accepted them without the least bit of surprise and left. "How did he move my things out of the trunk without the keys?"

Ranger looked at me. I was amusing him. "Noah has ways."