Читать книгу Call To Redemption - Tawny Weber - Страница 8

CHAPTER ONE

Two Months Earlier

OH, MY.

She’d been told the views in Hanalei were impressive, but she’d had no idea just how impressive.

Darby Raye ran her tongue over her bottom lip, planted her elbows on the balcony railing and leaned out farther to get a clearer view. Not of the beach, although the pristine surf churning over the sand of Hanalei was unquestionably worth a second—and third—look. And she wasn’t sighing over the indigo-streaked cerulean sky, although there was no denying that it deserved a few deep breaths of appreciation.

Nope, what had snagged her attention on her first night of the first vacation she’d taken in years was the unbelievably gorgeous man seated at the beachside bar below.

There was something familiar about him, but whether it was the double Scotch she’d already knocked back or the glare of the sun off the ocean, she couldn’t quite figure it out. Eyes narrowed, she leaned out just a little farther.

Dark hair was cut short enough to frame a face made more powerful by the contrast of angles and curves. Sharp cheekbones were emphasized by a goatee that ran along his chiseled jaw while full lips and lush lashes hinted at softness. She couldn’t tell the color of his eyes from here, but they looked dark. A worn blue T-shirt was draped over broad shoulders, cupped biceps impressive enough to bench-press a Harley and lay flat against abs that didn’t appear to even have a concept of the meaning of the word flab.

But how was his ass? Great abs were all well and good, but the true measure of a man was how fine of an ass he had.

She craned her neck to the side, squinting a little behind the amber lenses of her shades. But the angle was wrong. She shifted a couple of steps to the right and tilted her head a little, brushing at the swath of hair skimming her chin. Still nothing.

“Can I get you anything, Ms. Raye?”

Darby gave brief consideration to embarrassment, but this was a vacation. A time to let loose and have fun. Besides, embarrassment simply wasn’t one of her key personality traits.

“Hey, Tito,” she greeted, giving the waiter a friendly smile. “Just checking out the view and debating whether to head to the downstairs lanai for dinner instead of staying here.”

“The band will be setting up on the lower lanai soon. Much better choice for a lovely single woman to meet a dance partner.” Dark eyes dancing, the cocoa-skinned waiter waved one husky arm toward the circular stairs leading down the side of the hotel. “Please, go downstairs. I will bring your pupu platter beachside to enjoy.”

That sounded crowded.

Like embarrassment, spending her first night of relaxation around a bunch of people wasn’t high on Darby’s list of things to do.

“I think I’ll stay here.”

“No, no, you should go. Enjoy the music and have some fun. To start you on your way, here is a haupia.” He offered the tray with a half bow, delivering the frothy snowfall in a martini glass. A glistening raspberry nestled against a delicate pink orchid while a hint of pink sugar dusted the edge of the glass. “Ms. Nulty called and ordered it for you. Please, enjoy.”

Uh-huh.

Wondering if she’d ever seen anything more girlie, Darby eyed the drink. She was tempted to refuse.

But her secretary, Grace, would undoubtedly do a follow-up.

And, hey, vacation.

Darby was under strict orders to do it up right, and those orders had come from the Deputy Director of the US Attorney’s office. He was the man who, being the soul of trust, had assigned Grace as a guard dog to make sure she complied.

So Darby took the drink.

Then, just in case her boss had enlisted spies in addition to the guard dog—federal prosecutors really did have major trust issues—she took a cautious sip.

“Mmm.”

“Most delicious, isn’t it?”

“Mmm,” she repeated, sucking down another taste of the creamy rum and coconut. It actually wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t Scotch.

“Now go, down to the lanai. Enjoy the haupia and the beach while making new friends.”

Did she have to?

Darby didn’t consider herself an introvert—she didn’t have a shy bone in her body—yet she definitely wasn’t a people person. But she’d come on this vacation to someplace she’d never been, telling herself to try things she’d never done. Vacation was time to shake up life, to step outside the box.

“The lanai sounds great,” she agreed. Adding a smile to her thanks, Darby headed for the stairs, sipping more of the frothy drink.

She’d only made a few steps when her cell phone chimed.

“AUSA Darby Raye,” she answered automatically.

“I thought you said this was going to be a totally relaxed, one-hundred-percent-committed-to-only-having-fun vacation. Shouldn’t that include leaving your phone in your room, partying too loudly to hear a ringtone or relaxing enough to forget your job title.” The accusation came with just enough laughter to make Darby roll her eyes.

“Hey, I’m in Hawaii wearing a flower in my hair and drinking pink froth at sunset. That says real vacation to me. Besides, it’s my first night. I’ve been here a total of two hours and am wearing flat sandals. Flat. Sandals. What’s that if not relaxed?”

Darby glanced down at one of the sandals, angling her left foot this way and that. Flats definitely weren’t as flattering as heels. But maybe the copper beadwork rescued the look.

Maybe.

“Holy crap! You, Darby Raye, Assistant United States Attorney, ferocious federal prosecutor and general all-around hard-ass? Instead of mile-high sexy stilettos, you’re wearing flats?” The sound of Grace’s finger snap came through loud and clear over the robust sound of her laugh. “Send a photo. This I have to see.”

“Nope. It’s your fault that me and my sandal-clad feet are even on vacation. Well, yours and the HR department. No photos. Not unless you want to trade places.”

“I’d laugh, except I know you’re not kidding. You’d actually rather be here, slogging through another eighty-hour week instead of hanging ten on a surfboard or being pampered in a spa.” Grace’s sigh came through loud and clear.

Of course she’d rather be working. She loved her career. Her job was her life, and she was damn good at it. Good enough that she was fast-tracking it to be one of the top attorneys in the Southern California office. Or she was, until Grace had mentioned to her lunch buddy in HR that Darby hadn’t taken a single vacation since she’d started with the US Attorney’s office in Virginia two years ago. She’d learned from the best that work was life and life was work. Since the tender age of twelve, she’d lived by that oft-quoted motto of her father’s. They were the last words he’d spoken to her on one of the rare times he’d availed himself of his custody visits.

Darby puffed out a breath with enough force to flutter her bangs, but refrained from reminding her friend of that. Not because she wanted to avoid the argument. She was an attorney. She loved to argue. But the key to a good argument was knowing when a loss was inevitable. So Darby had easily recognized the uselessness of arguing with Grace when she’d pointed out that this vacation was Darby’s best shot at the upcoming slot on the National Security Division that was rumored to be opening in a few months.

Darby wanted that spot. It’d be a big shiny feather in her cap, to say nothing of a smooth jump over a few rungs on the success ladder.

She was good enough. She had a solid rep, an impressive case-closure rate in cybercrimes and human trafficking. And she had the support of a number of influential higher-ups. But her age, her lack of experience arguing terrorism cases and the new head of Human Resources’ fixation on a healthy work-life balance were working against her.

She couldn’t do anything about her age, but thought her work on the Antiterrorism Advisory Council helped offset her lack of trial experience in matters of national security. Which left that work-life-balance crap. Darby grimaced.

Hence, Grace’s answer... Vacation.

As if reading her mind, Grace said, “Office pool puts you at three days, fourteen hours before you give up and hop a flight home.”

“Any idea if Jenkins is in on that pool?” she asked, referring to the new head of Human Resources.

“You know the bets are confidential,” Grace chided.

“So?”

“He puts you at two days.”

Darby smiled—leave it to Grace. That ability to ferret out the tiniest of details was one of the woman’s best traits. Between that, enough tenacity to do a bulldog proud and a personality that blended like butter with anyone anywhere, the woman made a stellar legal secretary.

A fact for which Darby was forever grateful.

She’d gone through four secretaries in her first two weeks at the Southern California office and had been well on her way to cementing her reputation as a hard-ass with an attitude. That part she hadn’t minded, but the changeover and lack of decent help had put a serious crimp in her plans toward career stardom. That, and having to remember the names of the parade of secretaries had worn on her last nerve. When Grace Nulty had walked in the door looking like someone’s favorite aunt, she hadn’t bothered adding the redhead’s name to her cheat sheet.

Within five weeks, the cheat sheet was trashed and Darby was satisfactorily tracking her way toward career stardom again. Not only did Grace keep up with Darby’s breakneck pace, but she also anticipated, intuited and, when necessary, argued.

All awesome things.

Until she’d turned them on Darby herself.

First it’d been her relentless pursuit of friendship. Darby was perfectly content—happy, even—to be friendless in the workplace. As far as she was concerned, office-based friendships only led to trouble. Especially in a job as competitive and cutthroat as hers.

She still wasn’t sure how the other woman had outflanked her, but somehow, they’d become friends. But not even Darby, a woman who argued for a living, had been strong enough to win against Grace’s relentless cheer and focused determination.

She’d used that same cheer and determination to convince Darby that a week of luaus and lying on the beach would help her career.

Damn the woman.

It wasn’t that Darby had moral or religious objections to vacations...

She just didn’t see the point.

Oh, sure, maybe she should have taken a big celebratory vacation last year when she’d become a federal prosecutor. A lot of people had said making Assistant US Attorney by the time she was twenty-seven was an amazing accomplishment. Others had muttered about nepotism, citing Darby’s late father’s reputation with the federal prosecutor’s office for her foot up onto the fast track.

But Darby had learned young to ignore what people said. As always, she’d aimed her focus on work. On finding the quickest climb up the ladder her father had chosen for her when she was ten. And nowhere on that ladder was there room for vacations. Work, education, networking. That was her focus. Her only focus.

She’d have happily continued her vacationless lifestyle if Grace hadn’t ferreted out that the HR exec was reluctant to recommend Darby for the new position. The woman was a stickler for that wimpy work-life balance she was always lecturing Darby on.

“I’ll make the entire eight days,” Darby vowed in answer to Grace’s comment about the office pool. Not just for the shot at the promotion, but because she was hardwired to prove that she could do whatever anyone said she couldn’t.

“I have every faith that you will. But do it right, okay? Treat it like a vacation, not a point of pride. Prove that you can have a life outside of work.”

“My career is my life,” she said with a sassy smile. But her sass turned into a sigh as soon as the words were out.

That catchphrase had been her personal mantra since graduating law school. A mantra she loved epitomizing because it made her feel powerful, and dammit, kept her on the fast track to success.

A mantra that had, quite recently, been thrown in her face along with a whole lot of other accusations that were probably just as true.

“Don’t start doubting yourself,” Grace responded, obviously reading her mind. The mothering tone came over the line like a finger shake with a hug on the side.

“Why would I doubt myself?”

Just because the guy she’d dated for eight months had accused her of caring about nothing except her career, to say nothing of being coldhearted, narrow-minded and obsessive.

“Exactly. Why would you?” Grace responded. “You’re a powerhouse. Darby Raye, Assistant US Attorney. Powerhouse federal prosecutor. Ballbuster, crime fighter, law wielder. You take no crap from anyone on your fast flight up the ladder of success. If a guy can’t handle that, too bad.”

“Exactly,” Darby agreed with a laugh. And she did agree. She’d never made a secret of her ambitions or her priorities.

But maybe Paul had had a few points. It’d been her obsessive focus on her career that had kept her from noticing the telltale warning signs that he saw their relationship as something much more serious than she did.

Darby had dated the man for almost four months while she was still living in Virginia. The JAG attorney had thought it was romantic to transfer from Little Creek to the San Diego naval base. She, on the other hand, thought it was creepy.

But knowing the value of well-placed bridges, influential circles and tiptoeing around fragile male egos, it’d taken her three months of letting him down gently to break it off.

And another one to convince him that it was actually over.

She should have skipped worrying about bridges and circles and tramped his damn ego as soon as he’d shown up on her doorstep in San Diego, Darby thought with a grimace.

Still, she had considered Paul Thomas a convenience. The guy had looked good on her arm, could handle the schmoozing through the social events she saw as a necessary component of a successful climb up the career ladder. His own commitments as a lawyer in the Navy Judge Advocate General’s office meant he was as busy as her, meaning he wasn’t around much. He was an entertaining dinner date, an undemanding sex partner and an interesting conversationalist.

And that relationship had given Darby the comforting, if false, belief that her life was well-rounded enough to not worry about eighty-hour work weeks and no interests outside of her career.

Now look what happened, she thought as she maneuvered the twisting, shell-encrusted steps.

The guy got emotionally grabby and demanding, she dumped him and here she was, stuck on a gorgeous island paradise, forced to prove she was well-rounded and obsession-free.

“This sucks,” Darby muttered, unconsciously pausing halfway down the stairs to stare out at the bleeding colors of the sun as it dripped into the ocean.

“This vacation is vital for your well-being,” Grace insisted with a sniff. “Weren’t you listening during that safety lecture last month on the necessity of a good work-life balance to avoid health issues and burnout?”

“I must have been in court that day.”

“You’re always in court on lecture days.”

“Funny how that works out,” Darby observed with a laugh as she continued down. “Have I mentioned how much I appreciate you putting those safety lectures on my calendar?”

“Things like that are the reason why you need this break.”

“What the hell am I supposed to do with myself on this break?” Darby blurted out. Even as the words escaped, she wanted them back. She hated admitting that she didn’t know what to do, no matter what the situation. But since the confession was out there, she might as well score some advice. “Work relaxes me, Grace. Reading case law makes me happy. Climbing the ladder of success is my idea of staying healthy. Now I’m stuck here on a spit of sand, surrounded by water and strangers. No cases to argue, no work to do, not even a single law book to read.”

“Read the resort’s brochure. Avail yourself of all of those inclusive amenities. Do all the things you don’t normally do. Sleep late, indulge, sightsee. Lie on the beach, read a steamy romance novel, be friendly with strangers.”

Grace sighed at Darby’s grunt.

“You’re at an exclusive resort on one of the prettiest islands in the world,” the woman decreed, her frown coming over the phone line loud and clear. “If those brochures Jenkins shared are anything to go by, there’s a lot to do there. And keep in mind that since you took her recommendation on where to vacation, she’s very likely to ask you questions about your trip when you get back.”

“Like a pop quiz,” Darby muttered.

“The quiz is coming no matter what you do. So why not have a little fun. Let loose. Get wild.” Grace’s voice lowered, her words husky with laughter. “Have a vacation fling.”

“A man is what got me into this situation,” Darby pointed out as she continued her descent to the lanai. A man who’d accused her of being so uptight and controlling that she was incapable of handling a relationship of any kind.

“One of the reasons you’re on vacation is to forget about that loser, Paul. So start forgetting and start relaxing. Otherwise I’ll be forced to take steps,” Grace warned.

“Are you threatening an officer of the court?” Darby asked with a laugh.

“If that’s what it takes, sure.”

“Fine. I promise. By the time I get back in the office, I’ll be so relaxed you won’t recognize me.”

“Will it include a hot guy and orgasm options?”

“You think about sex too much,” Darby said dismissively.

“You never think about it because it doesn’t exist in your world. How long has it been?”

Since she’d had sex? Nine months, nineteen days and—Darby glanced at her watch and calculated the time difference—eight hours.

Since she’d had good sex? Tack on another three years to that tally.

Not that she was counting.

“A man isn’t necessary for happiness or success,” she pointed out instead of answering.

“You’re young, gorgeous and single,” Grace argued. “If you don’t get some soon, people are going to start giving weight to Paul Thomas’s whining.”

“Okay. That’s a valid counterargument.”

Darby pursed her lips as she reached the lower lanai and found a seat. Despite the cliché touches of bamboo and palm fronds, it managed to be elegant and welcoming at the same time. A dozen cozy tables with shells under the glass were scattered over the glossy wood floor. Two sides were flanked by unlit torches, with the ocean claiming the third and a well-appointed bar the last.

Heat fluttered in her belly when she noticed the man she’d seen earlier was still seated at that bar.

Gorgeous. He looked even better from here than he had from a distance. Tall, a few inches over six feet she gauged, noting the length of toned legs in khaki cargo shorts. His dark hair was fashionably short and a sculpted goatee emphasized sharp cheekbones and a chiseled jaw. And sexy in a take-charge, man-of-power kind of way that made her tingle.

Talk about a change. She was definitely thinking about sex now.

“Call coming in,” Grace warned, her tone shifting to all business. “I’ll touch base later and expect a progress report.”

“I’ll spend my time availing myself of every possible option for fun and relaxation in order to prepare for my pending quiz,” she promised with a laugh.

Not a bad closing statement, she decided as she watched the man toss a handful of macadamia nuts in his mouth. Solid hand-to-mouth coordination could be a good thing, she noted with a smile.

Suddenly, Grace’s plan held a certain appeal.

Darby missed sex. At least, she missed good sex, which was something she hadn’t had in at least three years. Since focusing on her career wasn’t going to cut it as an excuse for the next eight days, she might as well explore her options.

Maybe. Darby leaned back in the cushioned chair, the soft evening air dancing over her skin. The setting sun glinted gold off the man’s profile as he checked his cell phone.

She skimmed her fingers over the rim of her glass as she watched the man tip back his beer. Who knew swallowing could look so damn sexy?

He turned on the stool to take a quick scan of the lanai.

Wow. The full-on face view was even hotter. His impatient frown didn’t put her off. She was practically made of impatience. But the hint of vulnerability in his eyes? Caution signs triggered in her mind. Then he blinked and power replaced pain.

Enough power to make her breath lock in her throat.

The tingles in her stomach turned to heat, flaming hot and high. High enough to burn caution to cinders. Darby shifted in her chair, arched her back and breathed in the warm ocean air.

Oh, yeah. She’d found the perfect way to get through this vacation. The only question was, where did a hot guy like that land on the quiz? Because as she looked him over, she had to admit that relaxation didn’t seen to be the word that popped into her mind.

* * *

“ANOTHER BEER, MR. SAVINO?”

It took Nic a moment to realize the waiter was talking to him. He was so used to being addressed by his rank that the civilian term threw him.

“Yeah. Another one, please.” Normally, he’d stop at two. As a Lieutenant Commander in the US Navy, he could be called to duty at a moment’s notice. As the leader of Team Poseidon, a select Special Ops group within the Navy SEALs, he had a reputation for always maintaining control. And as a man who valued the ability to clearly see his way through whatever was thrown his way, he rarely let anything fog that vision.

But as soon as it was set in front of him, Nic tilted the bottle, letting the icy beer wash away the dregs of bitterness coating his throat.

Because Mr. Savino was on mandatory leave. So Mr. Savino didn’t have to worry about being called to duty, holding true to his reputation or clear insights.

Mr. Savino didn’t have a team of men depending on him, trusting his judgment. He didn’t have to face those men when his judgment failed. When, for the first time in his career, he wondered if their trust was misplaced.

His knuckles whitened as his fist clenched tight around the beer bottle.

Mr. Savino didn’t have a damn thing to do but relax and enjoy the forced vacation his Admiral decided he needed. But it was hard to relax when tension was spiking down his spine like a harpoon gun.

He hitched up one hip and snagged his cell out of his back pocket.

“Yo, Lansky here,” greeted the voice on the other end.

“It’s Savino,” Nic said, since even on vacation, his cell transmission was scrambled and wouldn’t show a name or location. “Status report.”

“Aren’t you on leave?” A heartbeat later, he added, “Sir?”

“When was the last time I was on leave?”

Nic took a couple swallows of his beer while he waited for his Lieutenant to figure that out. When he’d downed half of it, he put the guy out of his misery.

“Four years,” he said, answering his own question. “That’d be four years ago, when you and I, Torres, Danby and Powers went to Spain to take those bulls for a jog.”

“We ran with bulls. Danby missed out because he was holed up with that pretty Spanish dancer,” Lansky reminisced with a laugh. “Time before that was when six of us did the Everest climb. Before that was Brazil for Carnival.”

The tension in Nic’s spine slowly disappeared as he listened to Lansky recite their various trips over the last decade. Each trip was accompanied by the memory of one of the team’s adventures with the opposite sex. By the time the man got to the Vegas trip the twelve of them had taken to celebrate earning their tridents, Nic had found his place in the zone again.

“Now that we’ve had that little trip down memory lane, how about that status report,” Nic said with a laugh. His tone was light. But the command was clear.

“Reporting, sir. Ward, Torres and Danby are due back from Yemen in two days. Word on base is that their training mission went well. They had three platoons doing night maneuvers to the tune of Maroon 5’s ‘Don’t Wanna Know’ and adding ketchup to their field rations.”

“Nice,” Nic replied with a laugh.

“Prescott and his lady are still debating whether to do the wedding thing the second time around or just hit up a justice of the peace. Ava’s trying to be practical with the no-fuss angle, but you know Rembrandt. He’s all about the romance. He’ll have her decked out in a fancy dress, carting pretty posies while they say their second ‘I do.’”

Lansky paused to crunch into what sounded like an apple before continuing. “On your orders, Louden, Rengel and Kane are retracing Ramsey’s contacts, talking to everyone in the Navy they can find who knew him. They’ve tracked down some interesting stories. You want the deets?”

“I’ll debrief them when I get back. Anything else?”

Nic finished his beer while Lansky filled him in on the rest of the team, base gossip and the status of his own relationship. Damn if the man didn’t scope gossip better than a granny at a church social. That, combined with the man’s way of charming information out of men and women alike and his sick tech skills, made him a force to be reckoned with when it came to intel. Which was why Nic had called him instead of one of his commanding officers. The Admiral? The Captain? They supported Nic’s team, but their first loyalty was to command. Lansky, like the rest of Nic’s handpicked team, had one purpose. To serve Poseidon.

So when Lansky ran out of gossip, Nic didn’t hesitate to ask the question that had followed him to Hawaii. “What’s the status of the investigation?”

“According to Captain Jarrett, it’s currently lollygagging in red tape. They’re holding Ramsey in the brig but he’s got a hotshot rep who, while not denying the assault charges, insists his scumbag of a client isn’t guilty of murder or treason.”

No more than Nic had expected.

“Jarrett said they’re still digging, but so far his men haven’t discovered any leads on Ramsey’s partner or, more likely, partners. Jarrett doesn’t deny there are others,” Lansky added quickly when Nic gave a low growl. “He simply doesn’t have a clue who they are.”

Nic exchanged his empty beer for a full one, rubbing the cold bottle against his forehead. He respected Jarrett’s skills, and had faith the guy had Poseidon’s best interest in mind. Hell, the Captain had almost been one of the team. If they hadn’t decided to stick with BUD/S graduates only, they’d quite likely have brought their first-phase instructor in with them. He’d been damn awesome at motivating and pulling them together as a team. But while Nic had been all for it, the others had elected him leader and mandated they close the team at the twelve of them.

But the guy should have more intel by now. Hell, he should have shut down Navel Intelligence’s investigation of Team Poseidon from the get-go. That he hadn’t was giving Nic a serious knot in his gut.

“I shouldn’t be on leave,” he muttered. His scowl faded a little as he watched a sexy brunette sashay across the patio, her little sundress highlighting one hell of a figure. But all it took was a blink to put her out of his mind. Because nothing interfered with his focus when it came to doing his job.

“You couldn’t ignore a direct order,” Lansky pointed out. “Word is Admiral Cree wanted you out of the way until the... How did he put it? Oh, yeah, the shit storm died down.”

Shit storm. The murder of one of his men in a mission to clear their name and take down a traitor, leaving Team Poseidon framed to take the blame for the entire treasonous network.

Yeah. Shit storm was a good description.

“I’m back in six days. Storm or no.”

“Good. I’ll have something for you then.”

And just like that, the knot in Nic’s belly loosened.

“You’re close?”

“Damn close,” Lansky promised. “I hacked deeper into Ramsey’s computer history. I just need to dig through some layers, pull out a few more bytes. I’ll have it cleaned up by the time you get back.”

“Good. I’m ready to end this.”

With that and a few instructions, Nic ended the call with his Lieutenant.

And wished like hell he was still on duty, doing his damn job. Leave was all well and good when he could roll it into a team-building excursion, or even the occasional family obligation. But this vacation while his men were under fire?

It was a fuckup.

He’d have argued against it—the timing was wrong, his team needed him, instincts told him to stay alert and ready for the next hit to strike. But none of his arguments could counter the simple fact that he’d taken a hit. A hard one. It’d left him vulnerable. And his men knew Nic Savino for many things, but vulnerability wasn’t one of them.

Orders were orders, and Nic prided himself in making the best of any order.

You’re on leave, Savino. Take a break. Get away. Clear your head, shed the baggage and relax, for God’s sake. The Admiral’s order echoed like a bell through his mind, a loud reminder of why he was here. Or rather, why he wasn’t in Coronado, where he belonged.

Nic pressed his fingers to his eyes, trying to relieve some of the pressure beating behind them like steel drums. He could have pushed against the Admiral’s suggestion. But he couldn’t ignore the lack of sleep, the headaches or the feeling that he was losing hold of the fraying thread of the control he so prized.

So he’d finally had to admit it. He needed the break. He needed to get away, before he put them at any further risk.

So here he was.

On Kauai, where he’d always come as a child to renew. At his uncle’s resort, where he could kill two birds with one stone. Family obligation and relaxation, all rolled into one.

He angled his jaw left, then right, and turned in his seat to scan the patio. Tiki-style right down to the totem-pole bar and palm-frond overhang, the area boasted a dozen small bamboo tables set up to provide cozy beachside relaxation.

To his right was a seashell-shaped dais sporting yet more palm fronds. Since it was too early in the evening for the band, music drifted down from cleverly hidden speakers.

To his left was his life’s blood. His one true love.

The ocean.

The Pacific, to be exact. Oh, he loved the Atlantic, the Indian and the Arctic just as truly. But he’d first lost his heart to the Pacific here. Right here on Hanalei, actually, twenty-five years ago when his uncle had opened his first resort. He’d sat in the soft sand, pail in one hand, shovel in the other, and stared in fascination at the endless waves of blue.

In the years since, Keola Hanalei had become one of the premier luxury destinations in Hawaii and Nic had continued his love affair with the sea. He managed to make it back here every few years for a little downtime.

Not just downtime, he admitted as he absently took another swallow of beer. Renewal. There was something about this particular view that always reminded him of where he’d come from—and why he’d ended up where he was.

He didn’t mind that the reminder came with 400-count sheets, island entertainment and gourmet food. It made for a pretty sweet setup.

His gaze, always watchful, shifted again.

Because the sexy powerhouse at the third table was pretty sweet, too. The woman he’d watched sweep down the circular staircase ten minutes before.

Vivacious was the word she brought to mind.

Not in a bubbly, sparkling way. She looked like the type to kick a guy in the head before she’d giggle.

No. She looked alive. Powerful, intense and intriguing.

He didn’t know if it was his body’s reaction to the woman—hot, intense interest that reached deep into his gut and demanded attention—or if it was simply the idea of having something to focus on other than the emotionally exhausting thoughts that kept circling his mind like a vulture waiting to pick his soul clean.

Whatever it was, he was grateful.

Because like Lansky said, if he was going to be forced to take leave, he might as well enjoy himself.

And he’d just found a way to do exactly that.

All he had to do was convince the pixie to join him.