“It was shown at a film festival the Police Benevolent Association sponsored for charity,” he answered amiably. “Your grandmother’s reputation and talent contributed to a lot of beds for Portland’s homeless.”
“Oh. You’ll have to tell her that at the luau. It’ll be a great Christmas gift to know that her movies are not only remembered but helping others.”
“I’ll do that.” He reached out, putting his hand lightly on her thigh. “So, what are the plans for the evening?”
“Evening?”
“Evening. You know, that quiet, romantic time after the sun goes down. When the world slows down to catch its breath. Evening,” he repeated patiently.
She glanced over at him in surprise. “Since the twilight dinner sail is obviously out with Ford still being MIA, I hadn’t made any other plans.”
Donovan ruffled her hair in a carefree, affectionate gesture. “Don’t worry,” he said with a bold grin that reminded her of one of the pirates who once sailed these seas. “I’m sure if we put our heads together we can think of something.”
Lani found the unexpected turn of events, not to mention his provocatively husky tone and the lambent flame gleaming in his deep blue eyes, far from comforting.
Strangely light-headed, she returned her attention to her driving, ignoring Donovan’s deep, self-satisfied chuckle.
9
Donovan felt his plans for a romantic evening for two disintegrate like fog under a bright Orchid Island sun when they approached the cottage and found Thomas Breslin waiting on the front lanai.
“Aha!” Thomas called out, waving his straw hat in welcome. “You’re back. I was just getting ready to leave.”
Donovan cursed his decision not to have Lani stop so he could take a picture of the neatly squared rice paddies and taro patches along the river they’d passed. From the vantage point afforded by the highway, the peaceful scene had reminded him remarkably of the Orient. If they’d only stopped for five minutes—three, even—he could have avoided what he knew was going to be a long evening listening to Lani’s father wax philosophical about the arts.
“I brought the painting over in the SUV,” Thomas said, lifting up a large, bulky package wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. His next words confirmed Donovan’s worst fears. “As well as a portfolio of some of my favorite sketches. I thought as a fellow art aficionado, you’d undoubtedly enjoy an artist’s view of the island.”
Donovan ignored Lani’s low chuckle. “I can’t think of anything I’d enjoy more,” he said weakly.
Lani patted his arm. “Have fun,” she said cheerfully as she turned to head down the beach to her own cottage.
Unwilling to allow her to escape quite yet, Donovan wrapped his fingers around her wrist. “What would you say to my dropping by for dinner after your father leaves?”
They were moving too fast. She needed time to think. Time to figure out what she was going to do with this man. “Sorry,” she said with far more aplomb than she was feeling, “I’m going to bed early. I have to work tomorrow.”
“Putting in my tile?” He found the idea of Lani puttering around the cottage all day extremely pleasing.
“No, the library’s open tomorrow and it’s children’s reading day, so I’m working. And you have to get up early to have breakfast with Taylor.”
“Where?”
“Pronto Lanai on Kapoli Bay. I’ll have Kenny Palomalo deliver a GPS equipped car with first thing in the morning because you’re going to be needing your own transportation while you’re here.”
“I didn’t think there was a rental car agency on the island.” Which had resulted in his less-than-satisfactory cab experience.
“There isn’t an official one because, unlike the other islands, we’re not that into becoming a crowded, hectic tourism destination.” She flashed a quick grin. “Call us selfish, but we prefer to keep our beaches to ourselves. But Kenny’s a car dealer who rents used cars and trade-ins on the side to the occasional tourist who does show up. Or someone who needs a loaner.”
“What time?” he asked resignedly, suspecting the meeting was going to be nothing but a waste of time. Even if the missing fiancé hadn’t returned home, he’d listen to Lani’s friend’s story, then, after assuring her that she was undoubtedly too good a woman for the guy, he’d be on his way. Although those study books were calling, maybe he’d drop by the library to take Lani to lunch. Better yet, a picnic on what he was already beginning to think of as “their” beach.
“Ten,” she said. “Call me after you talk to her?”
Ten was early? Not wanting to get into yet another discussion about differences in time and life-styles, Donovan merely nodded. “Sure.”
She smiled up at him. “Thank you. It’s very nice of you to jump in like this when you have important things of your own to do.”