Blooming in the Wild (2 page)

The night before Melia’s wedding, Bella’s mother had confessed that Bella’s father, a holiday fling twentyfive years before, was Daro Kai, a cousin of the Ho’omalus. Since they were a very large family, it was not as big a coincidence as it seemed that Bella’s best friend was marrying into that very family.

DelRay had hired this Hawaiian model as an extra for the group photos, but for this shoot, intended to showcase their new line of tropical camping gear and clothing, the big sporting goods tester, Joel What’s-his-name, was the star. So she guessed she had to be nice to him—although any more smart-ass remarks and he might end up modeling a vine wrapped around his thick neck.

And after her dream, she was half afraid she could do it. But that was ridiculous—as if she could command vegetation to harm someone. Last night’s dream had been the wildest in an ever more vivid string, but still, just a dream that had ended nightmarishly.

Although her father seemed to think it was more than that. When she’d called him in the wee hours of the morning, Daro had wanted to fly to Maui and bring her straight to the Ho’omalus here on the Big Island to talk with them, to delay her arrival in the forest until she had, as he put it,
“more understanding of what might be at stake for her”
.

She had thanked him but refused. Knowing she had someone nearby who was willing to drop everything and come to her if she needed him had steadied her, reassured her, chased away the chill of her dream’s nightmarish ending, and given her the strength to remember that she was here on business. Work came first, before childish fears.

And maybe, just maybe, if she stayed busy enough, she could put off possible revelations that her dreams might be true.

To Do: Remember, job on this trip is to act as a tour director. Bring this diverse group together in congenial harmony
.

Bella took a steadying breath and blew it out. Sure, the Ho’omalu family had gifts that stemmed from the island, but that was different. That was them, not her. She was just ordinary Bella Moran,
hapa-haole,
half-Caucasian mainlander.

And right now she was in charge of making sure all her charges worked well together.

If she was lucky, she wouldn’t actually have that much to do with the television hero. She would mainly work with the woman climbing onto the boat, laden with camera bags and followed by another man. The photographer could direct the models to showcase the products in the best way. That was her expertise and why she’d been hired.

Bella shook off her troubled thoughts and smiled as the slender woman stopped to sit on the bench seat near her, setting her bags carefully at her feet.

“Aloha, I’m Bella Moran. You must be Nelda Smith.”

The other woman leaned forward, her eyes twinkling slyly over her narrow sunglasses. “No, I got rid of her so I could have the assignment.” She laughed, and Bella couldn’t help chuckling at the mischief in her husky voice.

“I’m Camille Barrett,” the woman added. “They called me when your other photographer was injured in an accident. Walked out in front of a tourist’s car in Hilo, poor thing.”

“How awful. I didn’t hear about that. Thank you for filling in on such short notice.” Bella made a mental note to send flowers and fruit to the unfortunate Nelda Smith. She could imagine few things worse than being trapped in a hospital room in paradise.

She looked at the young Asian man slouched back on the seat next to the photographer. He was lean and fit, clad in trendy sportswear. His taut face would’ve been handsome if it had held a little more animation under his striking hair, pale against his sallow skin. He was chewing gum, his jaw flexing rhythmically.

“This is Li,” the other woman said. “My right-hand man.”

Something in her voice, or in her sidelong look made Bella glance between the two. Li nodded at Bella, but his expression remained bored as he flipped a folding knife forward over his thumb and then back again. Bella shrugged mentally. They worked together, so of course they knew each other well. Anything more was none of her business.

“Aloha,” called Frank Lelua from the bridge. Bella turned to see him smiling, white teeth flashing in his lined, dark face. He looked down at them all, one hand resting on the wheel as his two deckhands unfastened the mooring lines and pushed the boat off from the dock. “Ready to go, folks?”

“Ready.” Bella smiled back at him. Frank was a good guy, a retired cop who seemed to take every day as it came and enjoy the simple life he’d fashioned with his Hawaiian Dive business, taking paying customers out for dive trips along the Kona Coast, and helping out at Nawea Bay.

“More than ready,” called a deep voice just behind her. The muscles on the back of Bella’s shoulders tightened in a familiar warning, and she rolled her head against the threatening headache, her smile gone.

It was going to be a long four days, unless she relaxed.

As the big cat motored out of the yacht basin and into the surf, Joel took his ball cap off and lay back against the railing, enjoying the scenery of South Kona in the golden sunlight of the early evening and the wind rippling through his sweat-damp hair and clothing, cooling his skin as it evaporated the moisture. The sun was still bright, but he left his sunglasses on the back of his neck. He took a deep breath of the damp, fresh air full of the scent of the sea and the vegetation. He caught a hint of flowers, but then there always was here.

Man, he loved the Big Island. Of the Hawaiian archipelago, this was his favorite island. Rough and raw around the edges, with more Hawaiians than
haoles
, Caucasians, and plenty of wild forest. Room to move, to hike, bike, swim, dive and whatever else he wanted to do, all in a temperate climate.

On the shore, houses and condos slipped by, and a big wave broke on the point in front of a high-rise resort. Yeah, if he had his way, if this whole thing gave him the clout he needed and he got to keep his job for another year, he’d have enough money in the bank to let go of his Oregon condo and make one of these islands his base. Rent a house on a quiet road with a view of the ocean, maybe share it with a pretty wahine. One who had a life and career of her own and no more desire than he to settle down.

He was a simple guy, and he wanted an easygoing woman who’d be content to do her own thing while he was gone and be really glad to see him when he was around.

He found his gaze resting on a pretty pair of golden, bare legs, and jerked it away. Oh, hell no. Not some high-upkeep city girl like Ms. Hawaii. There was no way even the most exciting sex was worth that amount of trouble.

He shifted on the bench seat, making sure his loose shirt covered his lap, because his body seemed positive she
was
worth the trouble. It had been a while—three, no four months since he’d been with a woman. If things worked out with one of these pretty wahines, he wouldn’t mind a little
hana ai
in the wild. There were perks to being a guy with a half-decent physique and looks, and he enjoyed the hell out of that once in a while.

The princess was looking at him too. Those knockout dark eyes of hers, like exotic black flowers, were hidden behind her shades, but her soft mouth was tight as if she was still irritated. That made two of them, but damned if he was going to let her know she got to him. Why did she have to be the one to turn him on, and not one of the other gorgeous women sitting near him?

His cock was definitely his
little
brain—and if stupidity had anything to do with it, it would be the size of a peapod. But he’d never had a single complaint about size or action. Slouching against the railing, swaying with the motion of the boat, he smirked at her.

“So, Mr. Gerund,” she asked, raising her voice over the sound of the motor. “Have you been to this area before?”

He held on to his smile with an effort, merely raising an eyebrow at her. “Kona? Yeah, lots of times. And my name isn’t
Jeh
-rund, like the verb, it’s Gah
rand
. Like Grand, only with an extra syllable.”

Obviously she was not a fan of outdoor-adventure reality and hadn’t watched his show. Whatever, millions of other viewers liked him and his show just fine. Only in their second year and fighting hard to gain ratings against a similar British show with several years’ head start, but his producer thought they’d get another contract from the network. Joel hoped to hell he was right— that last meeting with the money men had left him uneasy. They’d analyzed page after page of viewer statistics until he’d been ready to jump out of his skin.

She rolled her head as if to ease tension. Yeah, she was an uptight little executive, all right. The opposite of his kind of woman.

“I meant Kau Forest Preserve,” she said. “Na’alele.”

He shook his head, something in her tone catching his interest. “You?” “I’ve spent some time in Kau Forest. I haven’t been down to Na’alele.” The photographer leaned forward. “What is this Na’alele?”

“An old lava flow, really.” Ms. Hawaii’s tone warmed as she answered the other woman. “The ocean has hollowed it out over the centuries, so there are some fascinating formations. The waters have carved streambeds down through the forest, and there are pools, lovely grottos, farther up. Even some caves near the shore. Perfect for our photographs.”

“I hear there are underwater caves offshore, as well,” Joel put in. “Might do some skin diving while we’re out here.”

Bella Moran shook her head vehemently, her long hair slipping forward to spill across her breasts. “The Na’alele sea caves are extremely dangerous. Recently—well, a group of divers perished trying to explore the caves.”

“I heard about that.” Camille Barrett looked out to sea. “Those poor, poor men.”

“Tough,” Joel agreed, looking out at the deceptively smooth, lovely surface of the sea around them. “Hell of a way to go.”

“I heard sharks got ’em,” Li said idly. He popped his gum and sucked it back in, his jaws flexing as he chewed.

Camille moved sharply, and Joel watched as she eyed her assistant, her face tight. No doubt upset by the mention of Hawaii’s top predators, like many visitors, which was why Joel hadn’t bothered to correct Bella.

From what he’d heard, the divers had been wealthy Californians, from a fairly notorious family—Hellbent, or some name like that. Reputed to have their hands in some bad business. No loss to society, and anyway, the divers had probably ignored warnings from the local dive guides not to spearfish there. Hawaii tourism officials hated it when haole visitors died—made Hawaii look bad. But the local government couldn’t babysit every fool who visited.

Anyway, he’d only been needling Ms. Hawaii with his mention of cave diving. He’d taken more than his share of risks, but he wasn’t stupid. He always made it really clear on his show that his adventures were not to be replicated by the inexperienced.

The island was a cloud-capped green bulk off the port side as they headed south, past the ragged string of South Kona condos. The surf was a gentle surge of white against the rocky shore, the palm trees leaning over the shore like quiet sentinels, their fronds stirring gently in the evening breeze.

“So just to make sure we all understand,” his nemesis went on. “There will be no swimming or diving anywhere around those sea caves, is that understood?”

“Worried about your company’s indemnity clause, Ms. Moroney?”

Twin patches of color stained her golden cheeks. “It’s Mo
ran
. And yes, I am. Given your career, I understand caution may not be in your personal vocabulary, but it’s my job to see that you don’t take chances while you’re on DelRay time.”

Her sharp words hung between them. The others listened avidly, watching Joel to see how he’d handle her warning.

“Maybe you can make a list and send it to my phone,” he offered. “So I know exactly what I’m allowed to do and not do on DelRay time.”

Her brows scrunched together over her shades. Joel swore he heard a drum playing, as when two gunfighters stepped into the street in one of those old Westerns. But of course that was only the throb of the big boat engine as their captain sped up through the waves.

The male model grinned, his teeth impossibly white against his golden skin. “Good times can still be had, though. Right, ladies?”

The lovelies seated on either side of him nodded, but the blonde looked doubtful. “I’ll have to stay out of the sun as much as I can. Wrinkles.” She shuddered, and the guy patted her pale, perfect leg.

Joel gazed at her, forgetting his irritation. Why the hell had DelRay hired a sun-phobic for a tropical, backcountry gig? His gaze flicked to Bella Moran in time to see her tilt her head again, as if this were just one more distressing detail she must deal with. Man, she was uptight. She’d never last in the business world if she didn’t relax. End up chewing antacids all day, or hitting the booze, like his show’s last producer.

Well, she’d figure it out, or not. Not his problem. Meanwhile they were passing Kealakekua Bay, one of his favorite spots. Captain Cook’s memorial spire gleamed white against the lush vegetation that surrounded the pristine little bay. Great snorkeling—Joel had spent a memorable afternoon there with a pretty local wahine, no one else around. Nearly drowned going at it between their kayaks like a couple of dolphins. Damn, that had been a day.

Now, here he was with this odd bunch. Ah, well, he was used to dealing with whatever camera and support crew his network patched together. He’d learned to get along with anyone and everyone. His crew could jolly along suspicious locals and nervous officials, soothe them into doing what they needed to do while he did his thing, explaining outdoor survival in some of the world’s most exotic locales to an audience that would, for the most part, only explore the wilds vicariously.

Joel was also used to his share of feminine admiration and curiosity. The blonde model was watching him closely, and he had an idea what was coming next.

“You have a television show, don’t you?” the blonde asked. “You’re that guy.” She had a clear, slightly nasal voice, giving her speech a childish tone.

“What guy?” The redhead cocked her head, sliding her sunglasses up into her hair. Her green gaze assessed him avidly.

Joel grinned at them.

“What guy?” The male model gave Joel a blank look.

“You know,” the blonde said as if the guy were dense. “Joel, from
The Wild Zone
. The new outdoor adventure show, where he sleeps in trees, and parachutes off of waterfalls, and stuff.”

“That’s me,” Joel agreed.

“It’s so cool to meet you. I’m Cassie,” the blonde said. “This is Matt and Tanah.”

“Nice to meet you too.”

“Hey, Joel.” Matt smiled. Obviously not threatened by his girlfriend’s interest, but then, with his looks, he probably didn’t have a jealous bone. Maybe he’d ordered that face the way the blonde had ordered her breasts:
give me a handsome one.

“Very nice to meet you, Joel,” the redhead said, smiling. She whipped her phone up and snapped a picture of him. Used to it, he ignored the gesture.

“I watched you eat a bug once.” Cassie wrinkled her perfect nose. “How’d you
do
that? I’d throw
up
.”

Joel had, on more than one occasion, but that was a professional secret. “You do what you have to do in a survival situation.”

Tanah tossed her auburn curls in the breeze. “Maybe you could show me how,” she offered, not specifying what she wanted to be shown. He assumed she didn’t mean eat bugs. The tip of her tongue traced her parted lips as she looked at him.

“Maybe I could.” He grinned at her, appreciating the sheer pleasure of a come-on from a pretty woman, even if he didn’t intend to take her up on it.

Bella Moran’s soft mouth twisted with distaste. He considered describing in detail what it felt like to chew up a big, juicy grub pulled from the core of a plant and decided regretfully against it. He didn’t want to gross everyone out, just Ms. Hawaii.