Island for Two: Hawaii MagicFiji Fantasy Page 3

  “I’m going to miss flying with you, Cheri.”

  Tomorrow would be her last run. She was getting married next month and moving back to her native Louisiana. “I’ll miss you, too, Steve, but the rest of my life calls.”

  They’d been flying together for a few years, and he liked her because she was no-nonsense, knew her way around an aircraft and always showed up for the job alert and on time.

  Cheri said, “I’ll take care of the lockdown and meet you back here in the morning.”

  “You’re not coming in to say bye to Ferg?”

  “Uh, no. If you need to get in touch, just text me. I’ll be at my sister’s in L.A.”

  Ferguson Parker was also a Hawaii-based pilot but was temporarily manning the hangar’s office. He and Cheri had had an ill-fated love affair a few years back. He had broken her heart and she’d had nothing to say to Ferg since. Steve always felt bad about how things had turned out because he’d introduced them. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

  He grabbed his backpack and headed for the office.

  Steve and Ferg were marine buddies who met during boot camp at Parris Island. They’d also served together during the hellhole that was Iraq. Like Steve, Ferg was in his late thirties, but unlike Steve, Ferg was blond and blue. Both men lived on the island of Kauai—Steve with his landlady, Mrs. Tanaka aka Mrs. T, and Ferg in the wide-open emptiness of Waimea Canyon.

  When Steve entered the office, Ferg was seated at his desk, his attention on the screen of a laptop.

  “Hey, Ferg.”

  “Hey, Cap. How was your flight in?”

  “Easy.”

  “Cheri with you?”

  “Yeah, but she’s gone to her sister’s place for the night.”

  Ferg shook his head. “I really screwed up with her, didn’t I?”

  “Yeah, you did. She’s getting married next month, so tomorrow will be her last run with me.”

  “If I could do it over—” His voice trailed off.

  Steve was of a mind that if Ferg was given a second chance, he’d do right by Cheri, but life rarely handed out seconds and besides, Cheri had moved on.

  Ferg shut down the computer. “Let’s get something to eat.”

  They chose a steak house not far from the hangar, and once they were seated and placed their orders, they caught up on their respective lives. “How’s the dog?” Ferg asked while downing his beer.

  Steve looked up from the baked potato he was filling with butter. “Fine. Left him with Mrs. T.” The dog was a large male Rottweiler appropriately named Dog. Steve was technically his owner but they often shared custody.

  “Good. How’s your mom and dad?”

  “They’re good.” Steve’s family was in the oil business and had been since the early twentieth century. Ferg’s folks owned a construction firm in Iowa. Coming from such different backgrounds it was hard to fathom why they were friends, but serving their country and having each other’s back in the midst of the horror and carnage of Iraq made them close as brothers. At one time, there’d been three of them: Steve, Ferg and David Tanaka, but David lost his life to an IED in the streets of Baghdad and nothing was ever the same for the two friends he had left behind.

  “So when are you coming home?” Steve asked.

  “In a few days, hopefully—if the old man doesn’t let that young girl kill him.”

  Steve laughed. The hangar’s owner, a World War II vet named Tate was touring Europe with his thirty-year-old bride. Ferg had been running the place for the past two weeks, and this was Steve’s first time seeing him since he had left the island. “Do you want me to do a flyby of your place next time I go up?”

  “Yeah, that would be great. Make sure things are all right.” He cut into his steak. “Damn I miss home.”

  Steve understood. The island of Kauai had a way of getting into your blood. Every time he was away from the island for more than a few days, a yearning to return would set in and all he could think about were the mountains, the ocean and the stars blanketing the night sky.

  After their meal, Ferg gave Steve a ride, pulled up into the parking lot of the motel he’d been staying in while away from home. Steve had a reservation for the night there, also.

  Ferg asked, “Do you want to ride in with me in the morning?”

  “Yeah, I’d appreciate it. Save me cab fare.”

  “You are so cheap.”

  “My great granddaddy didn’t make his fortune wasting money on cabs.”

  “You can’t take that money or that oil with you, you know.”

  “Just turn off the car, farm boy, so we can go inside.”

  “I got your farm boy. You’re going to be real mad in the morning when I leave your ass.”

  “Yeah, right. I can see you now trying to explain to Cheri why I’m a no-show.”

  Ferg’s head dropped. When he raised it, his face held a grin that matched Steve’s. “That was so cold. Does your mama know how cold and cheap you are?”

  “Leave my mama out of this before I call yours and tell her Cheri kicked you to the curb because you couldn’t keep your pants zipped up.”

  They both knew how much his mother had liked Cheri and how disappointed she’d been when the breakup had happened.

  “Get out of my car.”

  The next morning, they grabbed a fast-food breakfast and were in the office eating when Ferg’s desk phone rang. As he finished the conversation, he said to Steve, “That was Ernie. He picked up your fare and is on his way back. Should be here in a few minutes.”

  Ernie was Old Man Tate’s brother-in-law and served as the driver for people needing transportation to and from the hangar.

  “Aah, here he is now.”

  Steve turned to the window and saw a glistening black town car pull up. Ernie, eighty years old if he was a day, jumped out and hurried around to open the passenger-side door. Out swung a pair of black stilettos attached to two lean chocolate-brown legs so toned and taut they could only be described as gams. The rest of her exited next, showing Steve a slamming red business suit with a tastefully snug, short skirt. The attire screamed power and it draped the nice curvaceous body of a woman of average height. Her hair, straight and cut short, framed a gorgeous brown face hidden by high-end sunglasses.

  Ferg asked, “How much you want to bet she’s cold as Juneau in January?”

  Steve silently agreed. A woman exuding all that juice probably froze men in their tracks on a regular basis, but he didn’t do corporate ice maidens. He left the big-money babes to his investment banker brother, Kyle.

  Moving forward with a walk that mesmerized, she was talking on her phone as she followed Ernie who was pulling her suitcase to the door. She entered the office while saying, “I know, Mother. I think this whole vacation idea’s ridiculous, too, but if you had told me when we talked the other day that you were coming out here, I’d’ve delayed leaving until tomorrow, but I’m on my way to the plane now.”

  She stopped speaking for a moment to say to Ferg standing behind the counter, “Hello, I’m Anita Hunt. Is the pilot here?”

  Ferg inclined his head Steve’s way and his gaze locked with hers; her fancy shades to his mirrored aviators. She glanced away as if unimpressed and resumed her phone conversation. “Okay, Mother. I’ll call you when I land. Bye.”

  She asked Steve, “Are we ready?”

  “Whenever you are. Name’s Steve Blair by the way.”

  “Nice to meet you,” she said sounding exactly the opposite. “Where do I go?”

  “Follow me. Later, Ferg.”

  Steve reached out to grab the handle of her bag only to be told frostily, “I got it, just show me to the plane.”

  He paused in response to the impatience in her voice and offered up a small shrug. “Understood.”

 
Throwing Ferg a silent look, Steve strode out the door that led into the cavernous hanger. She trailed behind. Since she didn’t seem to want his assistance, he didn’t warn her that there might be oil on the hangar floor, and to be careful of her footing. And sure enough, he heard a surprised cry and turned back just in time to see her in the air and landing on her sweet, red-suited behind. She had such a startled look on her face, he forced himself not to smile as he explained quietly, “Sometimes the mechanics miss a few spots when they mop up the oil.”

  She set her hands to brace herself so she could rise only to place both palms in the small oil slicks she’d slipped on. “Dammit!” she hissed, looking down at the oil stains.

  Holding on to his amusement yet again, he waited for her next move.

  She eyed him critically. “After you’ve finished laughing, do you think you can find me some toweling to clean off my hands?”

  “I’m not laughing.” He watched her stand.

  Now when someone falls their first instinct is to wipe off their behind and she did, but upon realizing she’d swiped her oily hands over the back of her snug red skirt, she snarled again, “Dammit!”

  He decided she was the best entertainment he’d had in a while.

  “This suit cost me a fortune,” she cried.

  “What do you do for a living?”

  “I’m a lawyer, and the owner of this hangar should be sued for maintaining a hazardous enterprise.”

  “Typical lawyer response—a lawsuit.”

  A much lesser man might have withered under the ice that lasered from the fancy shades, but when you’ve been to war, an oil-streaked cutie whining because of a ruined suit didn’t amount to much, if anything at all. And because playing butler wasn’t part of his job, he told her. “Ladies’ room’s over there. You can wash your hands inside. I’ll wait until you get back.”

  Anita stormed off. She was so upset she wanted to stamp her feet. If Blair’s not-so-hidden smile were any indication, she’d given him quite a show. How humiliating. Not to mention she was going to have to change clothes. You don’t arrive at a five-star resort looking like you’ve been working on engines all morning. This was her mother’s fault for calling at the crack of dawn to demand Anita pick her up at the L.A. airport later today so she could attend a judicial conference. The reason she’d not mentioned it earlier was because Diane wanted her visit to be a surprise. Some surprise.

  The inside of the restroom was just large enough to turn around, and mercifully clean. Anita spent a few minutes washing her hands before wriggling out of the skirt. The sight of the big blotch of oil spread over the seat left her so dismayed she chucked it into the trash receptacle because her dry cleaner would never be able to remove such an ugly stain.

  Managing to open her large suitcase within the too-small confines took some skill but a few minutes later, she was dressed in a pair of gray silk pants and a sleeveless white silk blouse. There were fold lines in the garments from their stay in the suitcase but she hoped they’d be less noticeable by the time she touched down in Hawaii. Remembering the pilot was out in the hangar waiting, she chucked her oil-covered heels, too, pushed her painted toes into a pair of designer sandals then zipped the suitcase. Giving her makeup a quick glance in the tiny mirror over the sink, she hurried out to join him, and this time watched where she stepped as she pulled the wheeled suitcase in her wake.

  He was standing with his arms folded, but because of the aviators she couldn’t tell whether the pose was one of impatience, or if he stood that way habitually. Even though she preferred her men clean shaven and in suits, he exuded a sensual confidence that was all male. He was wearing a nice white shirt and pressed brown khakis. He was lean and fit, and sported just a shadow of a beard on his cheeks. He was so good-looking, he could have been on the cover of one of the romance novels Val George was always reading at lunch.

  “You ready?”

  She swore he was still laughing and she didn’t like starring in embarrassing situations. “Yes.”

  “Follow me.”

  Onboard, Anita met the copilot, Cheri Davis. Blair then led her back into the well-appointed tan-and-cream-toned passenger cabin.

  There were ten empty seats and she wondered if there would be more fliers. “How many other passengers will there be?”

  “You’re it, so sit wherever you like.”

  She chose a window seat midway down the aisle.

  “It’ll be about a six-hour flight,” he said next. “Movies are there. Headphones, too.”

  Determined to ignore the unsettling heat that seemed to be emanating from him, she glanced at the monitor and other paraphernalia tucked in the seat back facing hers. He appeared to be silently studying her from behind his aviators and she wished he’d go to the cockpit, so she could pull herself together.

  “Restrooms are in the back. If you get hungry, there are sandwiches and drinks in the galley, but wait until I say it’s okay to move around before you check it out.”

  She nodded.

  “You didn’t hurt yourself when you fell, did you?”

  His serious tone caught her off guard. She shook her head tightly. “No.”

  “Good. I’d’ve warned you about the oil but you didn’t act like you wanted my input.”

  “And I certainly paid for that, didn’t I? Hope you enjoyed it.”

  “You always so frosty, Counselor?”

  Her chin rose. “Don’t you have some place to be, Mr. Blair?”

  He had the nerve to smile. “Yes, ma’am, I do. Any questions before we get under way?”

  “No.”

  “Enjoy your flight.” He met her eyes for a beat longer and made his exit.

  She sighed and hoped that would be their last encounter. Something about him rubbed her the wrong way. It was bad enough that she was on her way to a place she’d rather not be. The last thing she needed was an irritating pilot with an overwhelming presence.

  Chapter 4

  Six hours later the plane banked over the island of Kauai and made its descent. From her window Anita took in the view of the populated area below and initially was not impressed, but the sight of the ocean and the mountains looming in the distance took her breath away. She’d seen the Pacific Ocean off the coast of California many times, and it always looked so primal and angry with the waves breaking against the Malibu coast, and of course she’d seen nothing but ocean for the duration of the flight, but this stretch was so placid and so blue it looked as if it were basking in the sparkling Hawaiian sunshine.

  Blair’s voice came over the speakers. “Welcome to Kauai, Ms. Hunt. Please fasten your seat belt. We’ll be landing shortly.”

  The sight of the beaches, the lush tropical green and the knowledge that she’d have an opportunity to explore this paradise for ten days momentarily banished her pique at being forced to leave L.A. Admittedly, she wanted to whip out her phone and check in with the office to make certain things were going as they should, but as the descent continued that desire grew less and less. There was a small jolt as the wheels touched down onto the black asphalt runway and Anita Hunt, who’d never taken a true vacation, was in Hawaii.

  Once the plane came to a halt, the female copilot entered the cabin. “How was the flight?”

  “Fine, thanks.”

  “Is someone meeting you at the airport?”

  “Yes, a rep from the resort where I’ll be staying.”

  “Okay. If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you inside.”

  On the way out, she saw Blair seated in the cockpit at the plane’s controls. He turned her way. “Enjoy Kauai, Counselor.”

  “Thank you.”

  Glad to put him and her embarrassment behind her, she followed Cheri down the steps and into the terminal.

  The resort’s representative was a brown-skinned ol
der woman dressed in what Anita assumed to be traditional Hawaiian garb. As she placed a lovely flower lei around Anita’s neck, she smiled and said, “Welcome to Hawaii, Ms. Hunt.”

  “Thank you.”

  “My name is Judith and I’ll be driving the van that will take you to your resort. Your bags will be brought to your room.”

  Anita gave Cheri a thank-you and followed Judith to the van.

  She boarded the air-conditioned van with a gaggle of people—couples, singles like herself and a few families with jet-lagged rambunctious children. That slightly alarmed her. She’d no idea she’d be going to a resort that catered to youngsters and that reawakened her pique. She slid into a seat behind a couple who appeared to be about her age. The guy was short and thin and wearing a loud print shirt. The woman with him was dressed in a nice sundress and flip-flops. She had her arm locked in his and was smiling up at him like he was her favorite dessert.

  The woman turned around and unprompted said to her, “We’re on our honeymoon.”

  Anita replied politely, “Congratulations.”

  “Thanks. This your first time in Hawaii?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Us, too.” She looked at her husband and said with a laugh, “Not that we’ll be seeing anything outside of the room.”

  The husband elbowed his bride and they both giggled.

  Anita blinked at the TMI—too much information—but noticed some of the other passengers react with indulgent smiles.

  Hoping she wouldn’t run into them with any kind of regularity, Anita pulled out her phone, then remembering Jane’s edict not to call, she sighed and checked for a message from Greg. Nothing. He’d promised to get in touch when he had reached Tokyo. A part of her was starting to worry, but she told herself he’d probably gotten so wrapped up in work, he hadn’t had the opportunity to send her a reply.

  They were soon underway and Judith the driver steered them through a small residential area that could have been any small city in America. They passed a couple fast-food chains, a familiar retailer and much more traffic than she’d expected.

  With the aid of a microphone, Judith began telling them about the resort. “It’s situated on fifty acres on Poipu Bay.”