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“I don’t mind,” he said softly.
She peeked between her fingers and looked up at him. One side of his mouth was curled up. Wow, an almost smile.
She glanced at the ocean. “You want to walk along the beach?”
His gaze followed hers down to the surf. “Even though there’s no moon to worship tonight?”
She jerked her gaze to his face, but saw no ridicule there. Only a hint of a smile on his mouth and in his eyes.
“Guess I’ll be forced to act like a normal person.” With a grin, she bent to unbuckle and slip off her heels, rebuckling them around the bike rack.
He stooped to yank off his well-worn Nikes and then plopped them on the concrete beside hers. The socks followed. He’d barely set his foot down when she took his hand and tugged him down the grassy slope into the sand and all the way to the edge of the surf.
“Mmm,” she moaned. “The sand feels wonderful squishing between your toes.” Waves surged around her ankles. She turned to face him. He was staring at her. Hard. Piercing.
He didn’t move, but she could feel something between them, pulling her to him. Something raw. As primordial as the ancient volcanoes.
The instinct was strong to step close, cup his jaw tight in her hands and kiss him. But common sense kept her immobile. She barely knew this guy. How could she be so rash? There was living life to the fullest, and then there was just plain reckless. She swallowed, frozen in indecision.
And the moment passed. He dropped her hand and glanced away, across the dark ocean and then over his shoulder down the coast, and stuck his hands in his pockets. He took one step away, splashing through the waves.
Drawing in a deep breath, she followed, glancing up at the millions of stars so clear in the sky. They seemed so close, she felt as if she could just reach up and grab one. She felt again that joy of just being alive. How very lucky she was to be on the earth to taste and smell and see and touch all the beautiful things around her.
After she’d walked beside him for a hundred yards or so in the surf, foam tickling her ankles, she couldn’t help but wonder what was going through his mind. “You’re lucky to have a condo with a balcony facing the ocean,” she said.
“It’s not my condo. It belongs to a buddy of mine.”
“Wow. Everyone should have buddies like that.”
He shrugged. “He thinks I …”
When he didn’t continue, she glanced over and studied him. His jaw hitched to the left just a fraction. He’d done that last night when he seemed to be wrestling with himself over something.
“I haven’t been sleeping very well lately.”
That did explain his presence on the beach at 2:00 a.m. Why did she suspect that was an understatement? “Has staying on a picturesque tropical island helped?”
He grimaced. “Not so far.”
Her mind was churning with ideas. “How long do you have before you go back?”
“Three weeks.”
“What all have you tried?”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
She clasped his arm and came to a halt. “I assume you’ve already talked to a psychotherapist, but, what about massage therapy? Aromatherapy? Hypnosis? Um … What else … Oh! Yoga!”
He got that deer in the headlights look again. “I—I work out.”
“Or what about hiking? Have you been to see the Alelele Falls? They’re my favor—” She noticed his hardened expression. “What’s the matter?”
“I’m not some head case you have to fix.”
“Oh, no, I didn’t mean—”
His eyes narrowed. “Did John put you up to this?”
“John?”
He stared at her a moment longer and then turned away. “Never mind,” he said over his shoulder and headed back in the direction they’d come from. “Guess I can add paranoid to my list of symptoms,” he muttered under his breath.
What had she done? Her stomach sank like her diving weight belt. Kristen jogged to catch up to him. “Luke.” She caught his arm again. “I’m so sorry I butted in. I tend to get overenthusiastic sometimes. It’s a bad habit of mine.”
He let her stop him and turned to face her, his eyes closed, his expression pained. “No.” He took her hand and squeezed it. “I should be the one apologizing. I was right the first time. I’m just not good company right now. Forgive me, Kristen. It’s not you, okay?”
“Hey, I know things started out kind of rocky, but—”
“Have a great time the rest of your stay here, and good luck winning that contest.”
“Luke, please.”
“I’ll walk you back to our building.” He put his hand at the small of her back and gestured for her to accompany him.
Reluctantly, Kristen headed toward the condo. She tightened her lips, determined not to utter one more word to the stupid man.
No. He wasn’t stupid. It was her fault. She’d jumped in as usual and blabbered on without thinking. It was just something about coming so close to death that made her not want to waste time on small talk and second-guessing herself. She’d tried, but …
Now she’d ruined it with him. The best she could hope for was that it wouldn’t be awkward to run into him around the condominium. But it’s not as if they’d had any real future together. A hot vacation fling for a few weeks had been the most it ever could’ve been. And even that was a glass-half-full assumption.
Oh, but what a fling it might have been.
3
THE SOLDIER LOOKED UP at Luke with big, dark eyes full of confidence. Confidence Luke didn’t deserve.
“You can fix me, can’t ya, Doc?” The private couldn’t have been twenty. His young body was shivering, bloodied, full of shrapnel. But Luke probably could’ve dealt with that. It was the gaping hole in the kid’s chest cavity Luke couldn’t repair.
The trauma room was a cacophony of dreadful sounds. Agonized screams, mortar rounds blasting outside and doctors and nurses yelling orders and information.
He avoided the soldier’s gaze and ordered a morphine drip to manage the worst of the kid’s pain. That’s all he could do. There were dozens more he could help. Ones who had a chance. He started to leave but the private grabbed his wrist and Luke forced himself to meet the soldier’s eyes.
“My pocket,” he said in a strangled voice. “Make sure the letter gets to my mom, okay?”
Luke set his jaw, emotion tightening his throat, threatening to overcome him. Swallowing back his howling grief, he reached into the private’s blood-soaked shirt pocket, pulled out a dripping folded piece of notepaper and slid it into the pants pocket of his scrubs. Then he looked back at the private to reassure him. But the boy was gone.
Luke gently closed the kid’s eyes.
Then the lights flickered and Luke felt hands clutching at him and bodies crushing him in. They tugged at him, pulling him in all directions. An Afghani National, a little Afghan boy, a burned woman and dozens of American soldiers, all dead, all blaming him.
LUKE AWOKE ON A STRANGLED cry. Breathing hard, he rolled off the bed, paced to the living room and stood at the balcony doors until the last vestiges of the dream faded.
He couldn’t stop shivering, so he trudged to the bathroom, splashed water on his face. He wasn’t getting better. He stared at his shaking hands and willed them to still. The tremors seemed to worsen. How could he suture a patient with these hands? My God. What if he couldn’t? How could he return to his unit if he couldn’t get himself under control? He’d be a disgrace to his colleagues, his superiors. “Coward.”
Spinning on his heel he punched the wall. The dog jumped and whimpered. Terrific. He’d dented the Sheetrock in John’s condo. Wow, he really was losing it. He’d be sure to remember to fix that wall before he left.
He hadn’t been out of the condo the past couple of days except to let the dog out into the back courtyard. Maybe he’d better get out of here before he did any more damage. He checked the clock. One forty-five. He could go down and be back before Kristen got home. After their first meeting, he’d bought a collar and leash for the mutt.
Running into her shouldn’t matter.
But it did.
He found himself on the beach, thankfully deserted this time of night, striding down the coast. Details of the nightmare came back to him, as real as if that private had died tonight. Why did these deaths haunt him? Even if Luke wasn’t serving in Afghanistan, fatalities were always a risk for a surgeon. What the hell was wrong with him?
A few more days of this and he’d have to resort to trying a sleep aid. He remembered Kristen’s suggestions. Massage therapy? Hypnosis? Would any of that really work?
Kristen.
He missed her.
Which was ridiculous. He barely knew her.
He slowed and came to a stop. He’d always been quiet. His mother used to say he thought too much. Left alone with his thoughts, especially lately, he could get morose. Kristen might’ve been embarrassed about hogging the conversation, but he’d liked it. She didn’t constantly ask him what he was thinking. And he hadn’t felt as if he had to make polite small talk with her. When he’d been around her, he hadn’t thought about death so much. Her smile and her chatter had kept him entranced, and her positive outlook had been contagious.
Without giving himself time to rethink it, he toed off his sneakers and stepped into the water, letting the waves splash around his ankles and calves, digging his toes into the wet sand. He kicked at the water and let the spray blow into his face. The dog thought this was a great game and barked and splashed around in the waves.
As a remedy for dark moods, this was working fairly well. Maybe there was something to Kristen’s advice. He closed his eyes and thought of her blond hair blowing in the breeze, of her blue eyes full of life and laughter smiling up at him. Why had he blown her off the other night? He couldn’t come up with one good reason now. Except that he was a colossal moron.
Striding out of the water, he grabbed up his sneakers and headed to the picnic table. He sat, leaned his elbows on the table behind him and dropped his head back to look at the stars. The dog decided to shake the water off his coat right next to Luke, spraying him with salty, hairy water. Now he needed to wait to be dry before going in.
His excuse paid off when he saw Kristen riding her bike down Kihei Road as usual. When she veered toward the condo he realized he’d expected her to leave her bike at the rack and head down to the beach. But she hadn’t.
He jumped up and jogged across the street after her. “Kristen,” he called out as he caught up to her.
She glanced behind her, swerved, and her front wheel hit the curb. The bike pitched forward and she screamed and flew off, headfirst.
Reflexes took over. Luke leaped to try to catch her just as she landed onto the grass. Her helmet knocked him on the chin and he lay there stunned, catching his breath. One of her elbows poked into his ribs. Then she shifted and her elbow was replaced with soft, cushiony breasts. His body reacted and he bit back a groan.
His arms were around her and he could feel her bra strap under her T-shirt beneath one palm and a smooth thigh beneath the other. If he slid his hand up a couple inches higher his fingers could caress the soft flesh under the hem of her shorts. He closed his eyes and willed his erection to go away.
How sick was that when she could be hurt? “Are you all right?” He began a rudimentary examination of the bones in her arms and wrists. Nothing felt broken.
“Luke?” She raised her head, unsnapped her helmet and pulled it off. Her hair fell across his face until she turned her head to face him. As he drew a breath, the fragrance of wild berries invaded his senses, attached itself to his bloodstream and shot straight to his groin. Her shampoo.
She looked stunned. “What are you doing here?” Her voice quivered and he snapped back to reality.
“Does anything hurt?”
“I’m fine.” She lifted off him and he had to quell the urge to not let her go.
As she sat up, so did he, taking note of how she favored her left shoulder. “You are hurt.” He gently explored her clavicle and she winced.
“It doesn’t feel broken. On a scale of one to ten, how bad is the pain?”
She chuckled. “I’m fine, Doc. Just bruised.” She gingerly got to her feet and Luke hurriedly stood and tried to help her, his arm curving around her waist.
“Careful. You could have other injuries.”
“Nah. You broke my fall.” She started brushing off grass and dirt, and, reluctantly, he dropped his arm. “What about you? Are you hurt?”
He could feel a few sore areas that would probably bruise, but otherwise he was fine. “If I hadn’t scared you, you wouldn’t have fallen.” He bent to haul up her bike and inspect the damage. The front wheel was mangled. “Looks like I owe you a new bicycle.”
“Oh, no!” She stared at her crooked front wheel. “Well, maybe it can be fixed. Anyway, I bought it secondhand.” She looked up from the wheel rim to meet his gaze. “So … were you out here waiting for me?”
Her light blue eyes seemed to pierce straight into the deepest part of him. What did she see? “I guess I was.” He swallowed, feeling like a first-class jerk. “I don’t suppose you’d give me a second chance and have dinner with me tomorrow night?”
Her brows rose. “I work tomorrow night.”
“Oh, right.” He nodded. “Of course. I understand.” He waved a hand. “Let me help you get this inside.” He picked up the bike by its frame and headed for the condo’s lobby.
“Luke,” she called, not moving.
“Yeah?” He stopped and half turned.
Her teeth flashed in a quick grin. “Come with me on the boat in the morning.”
“IN THE MORNING” actually meant about four hours later. But Luke wasn’t complaining. He wouldn’t have slept anyway. She’d asked for his cell number and given him hers just in case he changed his mind.
But he wouldn’t have.
As they approached a large fishing boat, Kristen cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled, “Permission to come aboard?”
A tall, native Hawaiian stepped out of the cabin, smiled at Kristen and waved them on board. Ho`opono was painted on the hull in bold black letters. Kristen told Luke it was Hawaiian for Faithful. Once they’d boarded, Kristen introduced Kekoa to Luke as her dive partner and boat driver.
Kekoa shook his hand. Firmly. And there was a glint in his eye, as if he were sizing Luke up. Was the guy trying to establish a prior claim? Then he noticed a redhead with long legs sitting on a cushioned seat in the stern of the boat. Kristen introduced her as her friend and coworker, Amy Burrows. Luke vaguely recalled Kristen talking about her friend the other night. But not the particulars. Amy got lazily to her feet to shake his hand with a conspiratorial grin, picked up a basket of muffins then disappeared behind Kekoa into the cabin.
Kristen cast off the stern- and bowlines and within minutes they were in open sea.
Luke tugged his U.S. Army ball cap down tighter against the wind. He hadn’t been out on the ocean since he was a kid and his family had rented a beach house one summer in Galveston. That had been a lifetime ago.
But the salty sea spray hitting his face and the boat slamming down against the choppy waves started a video playing in his head of that carefree time in his life. When his father had still been alive. The kind of joyful existence he’d like to attain in his life now, but seemed so far beyond his reach he wouldn’t know how to start.
“Have you ever seen such crystal clear water?” Kristen appeared beside him against the railing at the rear of the boat, staring out across the ocean. She was using her hand to shade her face, but her eyes and nose were still adorably scrunched against the sun. Without makeup this morning she looked so fresh, so natural, he wanted to soak in her wholesomeness and save it for the lonely dark of night.
Luke shook his head. “Where are we headed?” He had to shout over the roar of the motor.
“Molokini Crater.” She caught a lock of hair that had escaped her ponytail blowing across her face and tucked it behind her ear. She motioned for him to follow her and headed around the cabin to the front of the boat. Then she squinted one eye and pointed. “You can just see the crescent-shaped formation ahead.”
