“Liar,” she said without heat.
He wasn’t going to get into an argument he couldn’t win. Since she was right and they both knew it. “What, exactly, does the island have to offer?”
“The best way to find that out,” she said, decelerating as she suddenly turned off the main highway, “is to take things one day at a time and leave yourself open to surprises.”
Donovan wondered if Lani realized that she was the most unsettling surprise he’d had in years. In a lifetime, he amended, casting a quick, sidelong glance at her profile.
The short road cut through the lush, fragrant greenery, ending at a tall white lighthouse.
“Lanikohua Lighthouse,” Lani announced in her tour-guide voice as she brought the Jeep to a sudden stop with a screech of brakes. “Standing on the northernmost point of the island, it serves as a beacon to ships and planes en route to and from Asia. It also claims the second largest clamshell lens in existence, right after the one on Kauai. These days it’s fully automated, but as you’ll see, the view is spectacular.”
“It is certainly that,” Donovan agreed, his eyes on Lani as she jumped out of the Jeep. The shirt fell midway to her thighs, drawing his attention again to those smooth, golden-tanned legs.
The urge to touch her again was suddenly overwhelming. Donovan reached out and brushed his thumb along her cheekbone. “All these years that he’s extolled your many virtues, Nate forgot to mention what a beautiful woman you grew up to become.”
“You know how brothers are,” she said lightly. “Nate undoubtedly still thinks of me as having red braids down to my waist—which he yanked more times than I’d care to count, by the way—a hot temper, and a mouth full of railroad tracks.” Taking his hand, she led him to the edge of the bluff. “Check this out, Detective.”
Multihued blue water swirled dizzyingly far below them, breaking on the rocks in sprays of frothy white sea foam. Lani was standing on a rock beside him, her eyes bright with exhilaration.
“Isn’t it glorious?” she asked breathlessly, throwing back her head to gaze out over the water, which reflected every color of blue from shimmering turquoise to deep indigo and all the shades in between. “Whenever I come here, I have an almost uncontrollable urge to fling open my arms and fly off into the sky.” Her lips curved into a wide smile. “Some kids dream of digging to China. I always wanted to fly there.”
Her cheeks were flushed a deep apricot and her hair was blowing free in the warm breeze, like a gilt-and-copper halo. She looked every bit as carefree, as welcoming, as the native Orchid Island women must have looked, standing on this very bluff, watching Captain Cook’s ships sail up the coast.
No wonder that long-ago Breslin mutineer from New Bedford, Massachusetts, had fallen in love with the island, Donovan mused. Lani Breslin was part fantasy, part flesh-and-blood female. And he wanted both more than he could remember wanting anything in his life.
He was struck by a sudden urge to capture the breathtakingly sight of her. So that years from now, when he was chasing down terrorists, worrying about rising crime statistics, or whatever other sleep-stealing problems the future might bring, he could look at the photograph and remember what total freedom looked like.
“Really, Donovan,” Lani complained lightly when she heard the unmistakable click of a cell phone camera. “If I’d known you were in the market for a model, I would have brought along one of my father’s.”
“I don’t want one of your father’s models. I want you.”
His meaning was clear. There was a hint of annoyance in his tone that Lani opted to ignore. After all, from what she could tell, he’d tamped down his emotions so tightly for so long, awakening them would have to be initially uncomfortable for him.
“We need to get back on the highway. I still have a lot to show you.”
Donovan ran his fingers down the back of her neck. “What about the smiles you collect along the way being more important than the miles covered?”
In spite of her heart pounding like a tribal tiki drum, she managed a smile at the familiar saying. “You’re catching on, Detective Quinn. There may just be hope for you yet.”
“I certainly hope so,” he murmured huskily as he leaned down to kiss her.
His lips were firm, yet rather than demanding a response, they coaxed silkily, enticing her into the slow, but definitely serious kiss.
The breeze cooling her uplifted face was tinged with the crisp, tangy scent of the sea, and the sun felt warm, blissfully so, against her eyelids. Below, Lani could hear the crash of the surf as it beat endlessly against the rocks, and somewhere in the distance a seabird called out as it scanned the surging tide for silvery fish.