Their Hot Hawaiian Fling

Someday.

“No one told me you’re a ninja,” Holden said, his words wonky due to his numb lip.

“Those skills come in handy more often than you know.” She opened a 6–0 suture and grabbed the curved needle with the hemostat to align the vermillion border with one stitch. Once that was done, she switched to a 5–0 absorbable suture for the rest. “Just four or five more then we’re done.”

“Internal?” he asked, though the word came out more like “ee-turtle.”

“No damage to the orbicularis oris muscle that I can see, so all external.” She tied off another stitch, then grabbed a couple more gauze strips off the tray, soaking them in saline before carefully pulling down his bottom lip. “Let me just check the inside to make sure there aren’t more lacerations hidden in there.”

The salt water dripped down his chin to the V-neck of his scrub shirt.

“Oops. Sorry.” Leilani grabbed a tissue from the tray and dabbed at the wet spot, doing her best not to notice his tanned skin and well-defined muscles. Sudden, unwanted images of her kissing from his neck to collarbone, then down his chest, lower still, made her mouth go dry...

“Dr. Kim?” Holden said, yanking her back to reality.

Oh God.

Mortified, she tossed the tissue back on the tray then gave him a too-bright smile. “Almost finished.”

He frowned, then looked away, the movement giving her another glimpse of the scar on his left shoulder. She gave herself a mental shake. His body and his wounds were none of her business. That was the exhaustion talking, making her nerves hum and her curiosity about him soar. She continued with the sutures, berating herself.

Focus, girl. Focus.

The song on her tablet switched again, this time to a sweeping, sexy guitar concerto.

Holden blinked up at the ceiling, looking anywhere but at her. “That’s pretty.”

“One of my favorites.” Leilani tied off another stitch then started on the next.

He waited until she was finished before asking, “Where’d you learn to fight?”

It took her a minute to figure out his slurred question. “Oh. You mean with Mr. Chambers? I kickbox. I’ve taken classes since I was fifteen.”

“Wow.” Then, out of the blue, he reached up and cupped her face. Her pulse stumbled.

“What are you doing, Dr. Ross?” she managed to squeak out.

“That guy pulled your hair hard,” Holden said, gently tilting her head to the side.

“I’m fine. Really.” Her breath hitched at the intensity of his gaze.

Oh goodness.

The romantic music washed around them, and unexpected heat gathered in her core. Not good. Not good at all.

Holden Ross was the last man she should get involved with. He was her colleague. He was strictly off-limits. He was far too tempting for her own good. Any connection she felt to him needed to be severed, any awareness currently scorching her blood needed to be doused. End of story. She couldn’t risk allowing him closer.

Can I?

Blood pounded in her ears and forbidden awareness zinged over her skin. She ignored the first and tamped down the last before forcing words past her suddenly dry throat. “Thank you, Dr. Ross. Now, let’s finish these stitches and get you on your way.”

“Holden,” he said.

“I’m sorry?” She held the needle poised over his lip for the last stitch.

“Call me Holden.”

“Okay.” Leilani placed her thumb on his chin to pull slight tension and her finger along his chiseled jawline to steady her hand.

“So, you’re native Hawaiian then?”

“Please try not to speak.” She sat back. “And yes. Born and raised. My parents own a resort in town.”

She could hear the sadness in her own voice and as perceptive as he was, she had no doubt he’d hear it too. Despite all the love and joy her adopted family had given her, part of her would always miss the ones who’d gone. The pain of the accident had never truly faded. Nor had the fear of losing someone else she cared for. She tied off the last stitch, then sat back with relief. “All done.”

He sat up and looked in the mirror on the wall again. “Nice job, Dr. Kim.”

“Thanks.” She began cleaning up from the procedure. “There are more clean scrub shirts on the rack in the hall, if you want to grab a different size.”

“Will do.” He grabbed his cane and limped toward the door, then turned back to her once more. “Thanks again.”

“No problem.” Leilani watched him walk away, feeling that riptide of interest tugging at her again and knowing that if she gave in, it could pull her right under. And drowning in the mysteries of Dr. Holden Ross was not part of her plans.

The following morning, after his shift, Holden drove his rental car through the streets of Honolulu toward the Malu Huna Resort and Spa, the steady, hypnotic beat of the windshield wipers almost putting him to sleep. His current residence was only fifteen minutes outside of downtown but driving in the rain after work wasn’t exactly his favorite thing.

He pulled into a handicapped parking spot near the entrance to the hotel then stared in through the front windows at the breakfast crowd filling the lobby of the resort. The unusual, crappy weather actually suited his mood far better than the cheerful tropical decor inside the place, but if he wanted to get to his room, he had to traverse the maze of tourists and guests filling the tables in the lobby.

After a deep breath, he cut the engine and grabbed his cane, before glancing at himself one last time in the mirror. The numbing medication in his lip had long since worn off and his lower jaw and into his teeth ached. Eating would be a joy for a while. Not that it mattered. He ate his meals alone in his room most of the time anyway, avoiding the other guests. No sense ruining everyone else’s time in paradise with his gloomy attitude.

With a sigh, he got out of the car, then hobbled toward the entrance, his head down to keep the rain off his face. The automatic doors swished open and a gust of warm air swept around him, scented with maple and bacon from the food-laden coffers of the all-you-can-eat buffet in the dining room. His traitorous stomach growled, but Holden didn’t stop to fill a plate. Just kept his eyes focused on the elevators ahead as he made a beeline through the lobby. Since the shooting, he had a hard time spending long periods with large groups of strangers. He found himself too distracted, always scanning the room for danger.

His therapist back in Chicago had urged him to build up his tolerance slowly. So far, Holden hadn’t tried that suggestion out, preferring his own company to constantly being on guard for the next attack.

Weaving through groups of tourists dressed in shorts and T-shirts and sandals, he felt more out of place than ever in his wrinkled scrubs, his name tag from work still pinned crookedly on the front pocket. He excused himself as he sidled by a quartet of women bedecked with leis and sun hats and nearly collided with a potted palm tree for his trouble.

The lobby of the Malu Huna looked like a cross between a Fantasy Island fever dream and a Disney movie in Holden’s estimation—with its rattan furniture, gauzy white curtains and golden pineapple design inlaid in the shiny tile floor. There was even a parrot behind the front desk, squawking at the people passing by. Holden glanced over at the bird as he waited for his elevator. An African gray, if he wasn’t mistaken. One of his roommates back in college had had one. Smart as a whip and quick learners. They’d had to be careful what they said around the bird because it picked up words like crazy, especially the bad ones.

Holden punched the up button again.

“Dr. Ross?” a voice called from across the lobby and his heart sank. The owner.

The elevator dinged and the doors whooshed open.

So close and yet so far.

He considered making a run for it but didn’t want to be rude.

Forcing a weary smile, he turned to face the Asian man who bustled over to him from the dining room. The shorter guy beamed up at him now, his brightly colored Hawaiian shirt all but glowing beneath the recessed overhead lighting. “Won’t you join us for breakfast?”

Holden glanced at the roomful of people and his stomach twisted hard. “Oh, I’m not really hungry.”

Once more, his stomach growled loud, proving him a liar.

The hotel owner raised a skeptical brow, his grin widening. “Your body says otherwise. Please, Dr. Ross? We’d love to show you our hospitality during your stay.” He gave Holden a quick once-over. “You look as if you could use a good meal. Come on.”

Before he could protest, the man took his arm and guided him across the lobby. Familiar panic vibrated through his bloodstream and he looked over the man’s head out the rain-streaked windows toward his car. It was only breakfast. He could do breakfast.

Sit. Eat. Talk.

Except the idea of making conversation with strangers made his spine kink.

Sure, he talked to patients all day long, but that was different. At the hospital, he had a plan, a specific purpose. Those things made it easier to shove his anxiety to the back of his mind. Small talk, however, required interest and energy, both of which Holden was running critically low on at the moment.

A year ago I could talk with anyone, party with the best of them.

But now, postattack, his social skills had vanished, leaving him feeling awkward and weak. He hated feeling weak. Weak meant vulnerable. And vulnerable was something Holden never wanted to be again.

He made one final valiant attempt at escape as the hotel owner dragged him thorough the dining room and a maze of packed tables. “Honestly, I can just order room service. I’m tired and grubby and probably won’t make good company anyway, Mr....?”

“Kim,” the man said, stopping before a table where two women sat. “Mr. Kim. But you can call me Joe. Please, sit down, Dr. Ross.”

“Holden,” he mumbled, staring at the woman across the table from him. Dr. Kim stared back, looking about as happy to see him as he was to see her. “Please, call me Holden.”

She’d mentioned her parents owned a hotel in town while she’d stitched him up, but he’d been so focused on ignoring her and all the uncomfortable things she made him feel, that he’d let it go in one ear and out the other.

Now he felt like an even bigger idiot than before. “Uh, hello again.”

“Hello,” she said, fiddling with the napkin in her lap. “Are you going to sit down?”

Sit. Yes. That sounded like a marvelous idea, especially since his thigh was cramping again. With less grace than usual, he pulled out the empty chair and slid into it, stretching out his aching leg as he hooked his cane over the back of his seat.

Mr. Kim, Joe, was still smiling at him, as was the woman beside him, presumably Mrs. Kim.

Trying his best to not flub up again, Holden extended his hand to the older woman. “Dr. Holden Ross. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Same.” Mrs. Kim’s dark gaze darted between Leilani and Holden. “You work with my daughter?”

“Yes. I’m filling in temporarily at Ohana Medical Center.” He sat back as a waitress set a glass of water in front of him. “Trauma surgery.”

“Excellent,” Mrs. Kim said. “You and Leilani must work together a lot then. Funny she’s never mentioned you.”

Leilani, who was quieter than he’d ever seen her before, stared down at her plate of food. “I’m sure I mentioned him, Mom.”

“He’ll have the buffet,” Joe said to the waitress, ordering for Holden. “And it’s on the house.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Kim,” the waitress said, walking away.

“No, no,” Holden protested. “I can get this. My locum tenens position comes with a food allowance, so...”

“Locum tenens?” Mrs. Kim said, leaning closer to him. “Tell me more about that, Dr. Ross. Sounds fascinating.”

“Holden, please,” he said, eyeing the crowded buffet table nearby and longing for the peace and quiet of his hotel room. “I...uh...”

“Hey, guys.” Leilani’s calm voice sliced through his panic. “Leave the poor man alone. He’s just worked a long shift. He needs coffee and a nap, not the third degree. Right, Dr. Ross?”

He swallowed hard and managed a nod.

Leilani poured him a cup of coffee from the carafe on the table and pushed it toward him. “Busy at the ER?”

“Yeah.” Talking about work helped relax him and as he stirred cream and sugar into his cup, he told them about the cases he’d seen and the funny stories he’d heard from the staff and soon he’d even answered the questions the Kim’s had asked him without locking up once. The whole time, he found himself meeting Leilani’s gaze across the table and marveling at the sense of peace he found there.

Whoa. Don’t get carried away there, cowboy.

His peace had nothing to do with Leilani Kim. That was absurd. They barely knew each other. It was the routine—talking about work—that calmed his nerves. Nothing else. Nope.

“Well, this has been fun,” Mrs. Kim said once he’d finished, pushing to her feet. “But my husband and I need to get back to work at the front desk.”

Joe looked confused for a minute before his wife gave him a pointed look. “Oh right. Yeah. We need to get to work. You kids stay and have fun. Lani, be sure to invite him to the luau next Friday.” He shook Holden’s hand again. “See you around the resort.”

Holden watched them walk away, then turned back to Leilani. “So, this is the resort your family owns?”

“Yes.” She gave him a flat look, then cocked her head toward the buffet. “Better get your food before they start tearing the buffet down.”

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