Blooming in the Wild (7 page)

Frank grunted in acknowledgement, obviously uninterested in the photographers’ midnight wanderings. “Well, I can’t sleep. Want to sit?”

“Sure,” Joel agreed. He was wide awake now, and conversation was a lot better idea than trying to get in Bella’s pants.

The three of them settled into camp chairs by the dark fire pit.

“Look at those stars,” Joel said, tipping back his head to admire the brilliant panoply above. “There’s Orion, with his bow and arrow.” He smiled at the familiar group of stars. The Hunter had always been his favorite constellation, a beacon calling him to adventure since he’d been a boy in the forests of northern Idaho. He’d posed with his first bow and arrow, imagining he was the legendary hunter.

“Our people have been navigating by those stars for a thousand years,” Frank mused. “Imagine being out there
a moana,
on da sea on a night like this, riding the huge waves in an outrigger, food and water dwindling, wondering if you’re gonna make it to a place you can make a good life, or if Kanaloa will take you down to your death in his kingdom below.”

“It must have been something,” Joel agreed.

“You’ve been lot of places,” Frank commented. “Where you like da most?”

Joel shrugged. “I don’t know. Lot of places I haven’t been yet.”

“You journey as the Hawaiians once did,” Bella said. “Are you looking for a home, as they were?”

Her soft voice was like a chill breeze of accusation down Joel’s back. He moved his shoulders restlessly, old anger stirring in his gut. “Not me, Princess. I’m a rolling stone.”

No hanging on to a building and a piece of ground for him while the money ran out and the town died around him, the other residents either moving away or huddling down to subsist on a monthly assistance check and what they could hunt or fish. That had been his parents’ life in a north Idaho timber town, but it would damn sure never be his. Unless—no, he wasn’t going to let worry sap his strength. He’d get through this rough patch and the show would be picked up for another year. Had to be. He wasn’t the only one depending on it. Jorge and Al and all the studio production crew had to make a living too.

To throw off the dark mood that threatened, he lay back in his chair, stretching his arms up and then lacing his fingers behind his head, gazing at the stars. “We’ve been talking about filming an episode of
The Zone
in the Arctic. Now that would be something. Take kayaks up among the ice floes.”

“Enjoyed da show up in Alaska,” Frank said. “You hiked right through those big Kodiak bears. Au’e! Never seen anything li’dat.”

Joel grinned at him. “Yeah, you have. Tiger sharks here—now, those are impressive.”

“I suppose you’re going to swim with them next,” Bella muttered. Then she yawned, covering her mouth with one hand.

“You betta get to bed, Nani,” Frank said. “You gotta whip us all into shape in da morning.”

Her head moved as she glanced at Joel. “Um, good night.” She shot out of her chair and scurried off across the rocks to her tent.

Joel watched her go, grinning to himself at Frank’s choice of words. The older man’s voice brought him back in a hurry.

“We think a lot of Bella around here. Her uncles, cousins and I. And her father, of course.”

Joel stood with him. “I’m glad to hear it. And I would never do anything to hurt or disrespect her.”

Frank nodded. “I thought so.
Pô maika`i,
‘night.”

To Do: Leading tour guests in vigorous physical exercise will relax them and create camaraderie
.

She dreamed that she walked barefoot through the night forest, clad again in the kapa-cloth skirt, a lei hanging cool and soft over her bare breasts, a crown of flowers on her head. She carried no light, needed none, for around her the forest was alive with a soft iridescence, each shrub limned with silver, blossoms glowing like miniature lanterns. The trees whispered overhead, and vines rustled as they swayed invitingly.

She stepped into a clearing. Before her lay a pool of clear water, a waterfall rushing down the lava wall at the far side. For her—it was all for her.

And so was the man who waited, lounging by the pool. He wore only a kapa cloth around his lean hips, his dark red hair combed back sleekly from his square, handsome face. Joel Girand popped a bite of something in his mouth, then smiled lazily at her and held out his hand, palm up. “You wanted a big one.”

Instead of a fruit, a large, black centipede squirmed in his palm.

She drew back with a gasp, and he chuckled, amusement rich in his voice. Anger surged through her. How dare he mock her? Did he not realize who she was?

Reaching out, she commanded a fallen branch to fly into her grasp. Glaring down at him, she drew it back to strike him.

He smirked up at her. “You won’t do it.”

“’Ae,” she replied. “Yes, I will.” Her voice filled the quiet glade like soft thunder. She reveled in her authority.

He put a hand to the ground and levered himself to his feet, loose pebbles rattling under his bare feet. Straightening, he set his jaw and narrowed his eyes at her.

“You have no power over me, wahine.”

The power roiled inside her, and suddenly she was not sure of which she was more afraid—that he was right, or that he was wrong.

Bella woke to the snick of pebbles under someone’s foot. She started awake, and gazed blankly at the wall before her, bright red and full of light. Realizing that she was in her tent at Na’alele, she sat up quickly and shoved back the light summer sleeping bag. Pushing her hair out of her eyes, she stretched, arching her back, and then sat for a moment, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

Looking out from under her awning, Bella squinted at the sunlit sea dancing a few yards away. Her mind felt fuzzy, as if it were full of the same flexible foam as the mattress. Good thing she wasn’t the one before the cameras this morning. She was certain she wouldn’t be looking her best after the short, broken night’s sleep she’d had.

She hated that she’d lain awake thinking of Camille and Li and their twisted sexual relationship. The only way she’d been able to stop had been to focus on Joel Girand. Even on the show in which he starred, he didn’t strut or preen himself. He grinned at the camera as if inviting the viewer to share the mischief and fun of the stunt they were about to try. Yes, and then he leapt off a cliff into thin air, supported only by slender ropes. She shuddered, but there was a wistful tinge to it. He’d done it with utter trust in his equipment and the people who were behind the scenes. And it had looked…fun.

He was very good at what he did. Too bad he was such a tease. She cringed as she remembered his smirk at Frank’s remark about her whipping them all into shape. They’d both been thinking the same thing, but Joel was the only one who’d found it amusing. And as for his other tease, when she’d been certain he was going to kiss her, that had been simply diabolical. And what had she done? She’d just stood there, waiting for that mouth of his to touch hers.

She needed vigorous exercise to help her forget. Rising onto her knees, she lowered the side of her tent for privacy. She found the red tankini where she’d dropped it beside her duffel. Pulling off the white tank and boxers she’d slept in, she wriggled into the suit. Grabbing her sandals, she unfastened her tent and crawled out.

Clear, pure light poured over the flank of the mountain, revealing a stillquiet campsite. Looking toward the sea, she saw an arm rise from the water, wet skin gleaming in the sun. One of the men was swimming. That explained the footsteps.

She looked around, but the other tents were all quiet and the Hawaiians’ bedrolls static humps under their awnings. The swimmer could be any of the men.

She looked up at the forest behind her and took a step in that direction. But then she stopped, locking her knees as she frowned up at the inviting tangle of green. This was the first and most crucial day of the shoot. They were limited on time—everything had to be just right today. Later, she’d follow the urge tugging at her. But now she’d choose the safer form of exercise—the one that didn’t call to her to lose herself in it and not return.

As she turned back toward the ocean, a bright spot of color caught her eye. A red hibiscus blossom lay near her tent like an offering, delicate petals fresh as if just picked. She smiled, touched by the gift. Frank must be the one who was up early. He was surely the only one who’d think of leaving her a flower. She tucked the stem behind her ear, stroking the flower with her fingertips.

When she toed off her sandals by the water and waded in, the swimmer was gone, out of sight around the lava rim of the bay. Bella sank into the water, shivering as the cool wetness enveloped her sleep-warmed skin, and then dove under, rising with her head back to sleek her hair from her face.

Remembering the flower, she reached up. Amazingly, it clung to its perch. The stem must be tangled in her hair.

After a moment, the water felt wonderful, the nearly eighty-degree temperature comfortable, the salt adding extra buoyancy.

Bella leveled out into a crawl, crossing the little bay and swimming out into the gentle morning surf. The waves sparkled clear turquoise in the morning sun, which was already warm on her head. She headed west, along the shore. The water was fairly shallow, and sand had washed into the hollows in the lava, the sun’s reflection off the white grains making the water bright and clear. She loved to swim, but the ocean was not her milieu as it was Daniel and Zane’s, and even their uncle Hilo’s. She respected the sea and feared it enough that she liked to stay where she could see the bottom underneath her.

But snorkeling at Nawea she’d learned that the Hawaiian reefs held an astonishing array of lovely fish and other creatures. As she swam over a dark ribbon of lava, she took a deep breath and dove, her eyes open. Without a snorkel mask, she couldn’t see perfectly but well enough. Below her, the ancient lava flow had been built on by a colony of coral and was now a reef teeming with life.

A school of brilliant yellow tangs eddied beneath her, followed by another of black-and-white-striped convict tangs. A pair of striped Moorish idols chased each other in circles, their delicate tassels fluttering. Black spiny and red pencil sea urchins punctuated the pale pink, gray and cream of the coral. A small
honu,
sea turtle, swam past on the far side of the reef, and she watched it paddle seaward, her hair swirling around her face as she turned her head.

The Na’alele sea caves lay out there in deeper water. Two were still open, but the biggest had been plugged forever by a recent lava flow. Pele’s a’a had been called forth by one of the Ho’omalu cousins to stop a terrible crime.

Now the treacherous cave was only another underwater hump of charcoalhued lava, the far end fading into deeper blue. Shuddering at the memory of Claire, Zane and Daniel’s horrific experience there, Bella rose to the surface and turned back toward the bay. She squinted into the bright light dancing off the waves.

With a swoosh, a glistening shape rose out of the water before her. Her gasp of fright earned her a huge mouthful of salt water.

She coughed, choking as she splashed backward, away from the intruder. A familiar chuckle grated on her ears at the same instant she realized it was a man. Joel Girand, his hair sleeked back on his head, his white teeth flashing in his wet face. The sun glinted off his broad shoulders as he treaded water in front of her, and this close she could see tiny crinkles around his eyes, as if he smiled often.

“Sorry,” he said. He didn’t sound it. “Saw you down there and wondered what you were looking at.”

Bella glared at him, swiping water from her eyes. The big bully—he’d done it deliberately.

“Pretty flower.” He was looking at the side of her face.

She reached up, surprised the flower still clung to her hair. “Mahalo.”

Then she stared at him, moving her arms to stay afloat as she suddenly remembered seeing that same taunting grin in last night’s dream.

“What?” he asked, one heavy brow arching upward in that quizzical way, as if he were wondering about her intelligence.

“Ugh.” She shuddered, remembering, and kicked past him. “I dreamed about you.”

He swam alongside her, easily keeping up with his long, muscular arms. “Yeah? Why do I get the feeling it wasn’t a hot, sexy dream? Did I fall off that cliff instead of landing safely?”

Bella tried to ignore the leap of her pulse at his mention of sex. “Unfortunately, no. You ate a huge bug.”

“Huh.”

They swam back toward the bay in silence, the only sounds the slap of the waves. Bella had to work to keep her breathing easy—swimming was a lot harder work than it appeared. She jogged and rode her bike, but this was definitely an all-body exercise.

With his build, Joel could easily outdistance her, and she wished he would and let her finish her swim in peace. But instead, he swam with her and waited for her when she stopped to rest on a shelf of submerged lava just outside the bay. He even paused beside her, holding out a hand to help her up to the next of the natural steps in the rock.

“
’Ae, kaikuahine,”
whispered the voices in her ear
.”E lawi mai kâ ‘olua kane koa. Yes, little sister. Bring your warrior to us.”

Now the flower was whispering to her. With a sense of desperation, Bella shook her head, ignoring the voices and his gesture, clinging to the wet rock. Oh, Pele, did she really hear the voice, or was her subconscious trying to get her mixed up with him?

No, her visceral attraction to him was too powerful, and she was too unsettled here. She daren’t touch him, not even for this smallest of courtesies. Especially after he’d teased her last night, pretending he was going to kiss her, standing so close her senses were full of his heat and strength and male scent.

And she really didn’t want to watch as he shrugged and pulled himself up out of the sea, water streaming from his rangy, muscular body, delineating every ridge and hollow of the long muscles in his back and legs, running in sparkling rivulets down his shoulders arms, causing his olive swim shorts to cling lovingly to his round, tight ass.

He turned, setting his hands on his narrow hips, fingers pointing to where his wet shorts cupped a package that was as impressive as the rest of him. She’d felt that brushing against her midriff last night too. Only she was sure it had been a lot stiffer than it was now.

He spoke, and her gaze flew guiltily to his face to find him scowling down at her.

“You know, I may have eaten a bug or two in my time,” he said, “but at least I don’t have one up my ass, like you. Can’t you relax a little, for chrissakes?”

Bella flinched, shocked as if he’d slapped her. She opened her mouth to explain that she had no energy left for friendly banter or flirtation, that she was hanging on to normality by her fingernails. That she was besieged, and he was part of it.

But she swallowed the words, for what could she say that would even make sense? It had been embarrassing enough that he’d caught her watching his show like a closet fan-girl. Opening up her tangle of private emotions to him? Never going to happen.

And besides, now he was just pissing her off. How dare he look down at her in that smug way, as if she was an uptight pencil pusher?

He moved, leaning back against the sun-warmed rock behind him as he watched her, as relaxed as she was tense, with the corner of that mouth kicking up in his trademark half smile, only to her it looked like a smirk.

That did it. A creature she didn’t know rose up in her, a haze of heat and power and anger fogging her brain. This was her forest, her island. She was in control, not some male interloper.

Bella surged up out of the water to stand before him. She took one step closer, all there was room for on the narrow shelf. Toe to toe with him, she grasped his thick biceps, wet and cool on the surface, hard and hot beneath. The way he was going to be when she got through with him.

Looking up into his gaze, she pulled herself up onto her tiptoes and kissed him. Like his arms, his lips tasted cool and wet, but they warmed up so fast she thought she felt steam waft between their faces.

Quickly, giving him no chance to take over, Bella cocked her head, parting her lips to deepen the kiss. She pressed closer, using her lips to explore the heat of his, the sleekness of his inner lip, the hard edge of his teeth. She touched the tip of her tongue to his and thrust her own delicately into his mouth, tasting him while her lips fastened seamlessly over his until she was drinking him in, his heat and taste and male essence.

She made it a long kiss, and a thorough one. Which was not difficult, as he bent his head, kissing her back, his tongue tangling with hers. A thrill of pleasure streamed through her, and need unlike any she’d ever felt. He tasted better than anything, his mouth enticing and fulfilling at the same time.

She wanted to kiss him all day, wanted to slide her mouth down his throat, down over the broad, smooth shoulders under her hands, wanted to wrap herself around his tall, nearly naked body like a vine, and devour him.

Wait.
Where
were her hands? For that matter, where was she? Her eyes flew open as she realized that she was leaning against him, sliding her hands greedily up across the broad slope of his shoulders toward the back of his neck.

With a gasp, she stepped back. She lifted a hand to her mouth, which felt bereft, and stared up at him. What had just happened?