Call To Redemption

It wasn’t as if her last name was a state secret, but she was having fun playing this fantasy game to the hilt. Maybe not quite as much fun as it had been playing the ice-cube game in bed last night, but still fun.

“Hello, Mr. Keola,” she returned, gesturing to the empty seat next to her. “Please, join me.”

“Call me Michael and I’d be delighted to.” He sat like a king on his throne, his avuncular gaze surveying the beach, where it wrapped like a frilly skirt around the haven that was his resort. “Today is a good day to relax, yes?”

“I can’t imagine a more beautiful place to relax,” she agreed. “Everyone seems to be enjoying it, too. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many happy people as I do here.”

“As it should be.” His nod held a hint of the same arrogant power she’d seen so often in his nephew. “And speaking of, can I offer you anything? Another drink? Would you like to reserve a rooftop table for dinner? Or perhaps a seat at tonight’s luau?”

Darby was momentarily tempted by the idea of traditional island entertainment. But a luau meant people, and right now she had a feeling she’d rather keep her evening private. Except for Dominic, of course.

“I’m fine, thank you, Michael.” She bit her lip to keep the words from jumping out, but couldn’t hold them all back. “It must be nice having your nephew here to visit.”

“Family is a pleasure, yes?” His dark eyes danced beneath the wide brim of his white hat. “Especially when one’s family is small, the time together is all the more welcome.”

Uh-huh. Sure it was.

Thankfully, he continued before the cynicism made the trip from her head to her lips.

“I have only one sister, and she only one son. Sadly, we’ve both lost our life mates. So we value each other’s children all the more.”

“I’m so sorry,” Darby said, briefly laying her hand over the back of his in sympathy. “I know how difficult it is to lose a loved one.”

“A heart that’s known love is never empty.” He gave her hand a pat in return, then shrugged fatalistically. “My time with my wife was short but we lived a wonderful lifetime in the dozen years we had together. And I see her always in our son, Luc. He travels from time to time to share his music, but he always come back. He and his band play here and draw a great crowd. Perhaps you noticed?”

A light wind danced over them, a gentle contrast to the warming sun dancing over Darby, and lifted the edges of the sarong she wore over her swimsuit.

“The band we heard last night?” She blinked in surprise, absently tucking the filmy fabric back under her thigh. “They were fabulous. It’s not too many bands that can cover everything from Clapton to Guns n’ Roses to Alison Krauss. I was impressed.”

Especially since the band had provided a great soundtrack for her first night of vacation fantasy.

“Luc, he has talent. Like his cousin, he’s found his path in life.” Michael’s eyes scanned the water, his face creasing into a smile when he pinpointed his nephew. “Ahh, the surf is good today, yes? Look at Dominic. He takes to the water like a seal.”

A seal? Not a fish? Raising her brows at the interesting twist on an old saying, Darby glanced out at the water in question. Shades of sapphire melted into turquoise and were tipped with white—it was unquestionably gorgeous.

“There is a dive scheduled tomorrow. You could go out, try your hand. Dominic is quite good, he’d be an excellent guide to teach you.”

“No, thanks.” Darby didn’t dive. No way, no how. Flashes of the nightmares that’d haunted her for years danced into her head to do a quick boogie before she shoved them right back out again. Looking at the water might give her a nice feeling of inspired peace—much as looking at a work of art would—but the idea of being in it any deeper than her toes? That sent a nasty shiver right down her spine.

“You don’t dive? Instead, you are lounging and relaxing.” He nodded his thanks to one of the white-shirted waiters as the man set two drinks on the small table, each garnished with a pineapple spear. Not one for alcohol in the afternoon, even on vacation, Darby ignored hers. As soon as Michael had taken a long sip through his straw, he gave her an assessing look. Not the pervy older-man kind, but more a sizing up.

“You seem athletic. Fit, yes?”

“Not fit enough for diving,” she said, heading off that idea.

“No, no diving. You don’t want to spend time with certification to dive when you could be relaxing instead. Hiking, though. You could hike, yes? If nothing else, you should visit the Hanalei Valley Lookout. The view? Exquisite.” Just as Darby’s shoulders started to relax, he waved his hand toward the half-dozen bodies riding the waves. “Or perhaps surfing? Surfing is an adventure. One every person should experience and you do look like an adventurous soul.”

“Not that adventurous,” she said, putting on her best lying-in-court face. The one that convinced judges and juries that she spoke the absolute truth. “You had it right with relaxation. That’s my entire focus this vacation. To lie on the beach and soak up sunshine.”

Then, because she didn’t want to hurt his feelings and it actually had sounded good, she added, “But I do want to visit the Lookout. And the waterfalls.”

“Excellent. I’ll arrange a car for later today.” Before she could protest, he got to his feet. “And soon, you try parasailing. It can be your adventure.”

Parasailing?

Like, on a surfboard with a sail on the ocean?

Even as Darby gave Michael a noncommittal smile, she thought, no. No, no, a million times no. Dominic might have seduced her into any number of wild sexual delights, but there was no way in hell he’d convince her to straddle a stick of wood attached to a flap of fabric and ride the waves like some kind of water-skimming daredevil.

“Perhaps you’ll try tandem parasailing. Dominic is skilled, he can teach you,” Michael said, giving her one last smile before moving off to greet another guest.

Dominic certainly was skilled. Lips pursed, her gaze shifted to the ocean again.

Tandem?

Hmm...

* * *

IT TURNED OUT that Darby loved parasailing.

Who knew?

Two days later, she realized that she apparently also enjoyed moonlit sails, beach volleyball and hiking through Namolokama Falls.

Of course, the common denominator in all of that was Dominic. The sexy, intriguing, entertaining Dominic.

Darby grinned as she juggled her overstuffed beach bag to use her key card to open the hotel room door.

Dominic, who challenged her to try new things. To revel in new experiences. Every minute with him was alive. Enticing, exciting, invigorating.

Darby stared out the floor-to-ceiling window for a long second, basking in the view of the ocean.

Who knew?

There was life outside of work.

And she was enjoying every second of it.

As if mocking her thoughts, her cell phone rang out, loud and demanding.

For three long, glorious seconds she debated ignoring the call. She was on vacation. She had a date to get ready for. She could call back later.

But duty, as ingrained as her ambition, won out.

“Hello,” she answered with the swipe of her thumb.

“Darby?”

“Mother,” she greeted as she dumped her beach bag on the overstuffed chair just inside the door. She automatically ran her fingers through her windblown hair, trying to push it into place, then fluffing the ends. “How are you doing?”

“Not well, actually. Dr. Sternberg said it’s nothing, but he’s running tests for an ulcer. Which says it all, doesn’t it?”

It said that Laura Raye and her ongoing affair with hypochondria was a force to be reckoned with. Sometimes when Darby was feeling generous, she thought her mom needed a hobby. Something to distract her from swimming in the deep well of worry she’d gotten so used to. In her less generous moments, she figured the woman had dived so deep into grief in the years after Danny died that she was addicted to the misery. And like any addict, after she’d sucked the sympathy dry over the loss of her son, she’d had to go looking elsewhere for her fix.

Darby wasn’t sure what it said about her that her generous moments were few and far between. So maybe it was guilt over her lack of sympathy—or she was simply riding the feel-good wave of her vacation—that had her digging deep for compassion.

“Tests are smart. It’s always good to know what’s going on,” she said, trying to sound encouraging. “You’ll feel better once you know what you’re dealing with.”

Or she’d decide the doctor was conspiring to hide her actual test results for some reason or another.

There was always one reason or another.

Before she’d even finished the thought, her mother was off and running with her litany of reasons why the doctor hadn’t taken her seriously enough to offer a true diagnosis. He should have done more tests, his nurse had taken an unfair dislike to her, her insurance wasn’t good enough to demand better testing...

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