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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.”
