Feeling another ridiculous blush coming on, Celeste turned back to the path. Kanoe was right behind her, balancing the surfboards. Just looking at him made her feel hot and flustered all over…for more reasons than she cared to consider.

Straightening her spine, Celeste turned and opened the chain-link gate to the twisting path leading up to the house.

Kanoe was a nice guy, the kind of guy who surfed in the middle of a weekday. Definitely not a professional. Definitely not the kind of man she generally found attractive.

But she found him so, so damn attractive.

He couldn’t possibly have any other intentions when it came to her. She was a freakishly pale girl who didn’t understand his local lingo, who had to be rescued from treacherous riptides and was hopeless on a surfboard. More embarrassed by the ordeal than she’d thought possible, she clenched her fists at her sides and pressed on.
All this was simply more proof that she was out of her element. At the office, she impressed people every day.

Here, she could hardly walk across a beach.

Her irritation with herself growing, Celeste marched up the mossy path to her rental. Why was she so embarrassed? Why did she wish, deep inside, that she could’ve impressed him out there? Why did it even matter?

Pausing in her step, she glanced back at him. Well, it was obvious. She remembered the smoldering way Kanoe had looked at her when they were out on the water, with his golden-brown eyes slightly narrowed, focused. As if he wanted more of her. The look had heightened sensation throughout her body and even out there, it had been hard to keep from touching him.

It meant nothing. A little chemistry never meant anything.

She sighed, thinking of how she’d been so giddy on the beach after that first time. Why hadn’t she controlled herself? First of all, nobody rode in all the way to the sand. Nobody jumped up and down afterward. Nobody laughed like a maniac.

Nobody but her, the white woman who liked to pretend she belonged but didn’t. What was she trying to prove? Celeste never lost control, never abandoned her cool reserve. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d behaved like that. It was amazing Kanoe hadn’t run for the hills hours ago. He must think she was a complete moron.
Then that awful wipeout and her bleeding head sealed the deal. She was a moron.

She heaved a sigh. Well, she couldn’t do anything about it now. She might as well be herself—she had nothing to lose at this point.

Kanoe set the boards upright on the lanai and followed her inside. There, he sat her on the couch, then found a towel and wet a washcloth. He sat beside her and began to bathe her forehead with gentle strokes.

She gave him a rueful look. “This is becoming a habit. You helping me out, I mean. First with my gate and my luggage, and now with surfing and my stupid head injury. Maybe I should keep you around.”

“Maybe you should,” he said mildly.

Maybe I should.

There it was, the same dark gaze he’d given her out in the surf, before she’d made a complete idiot of herself.
Maybe he hadn’t minded her behavior. Could he have liked her overexcited behavior? Could he get past her inexperienced klutziness?

“I’m sorry I was an idiot.”

He raised his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“You know. The riptide. Surfing on my stomach all the way to the shore. Jumping up and down like a…” She frowned at his smile. “What?”

His smile transformed into a low chuckle as he gently pressed the towel to her wound. “I liked watching you out there.” His laugh diminished and his face turned serious again. “Not many people are as enthusiastic as you.”

She snorted softly. “That’s a nice way of putting it.”

He shook his head. “No it isn’t. It’s the truth.” He glanced toward the window then back at her. “I’ve been surfing with Nalani since we were little kids, but I’ve never met a woman I—” Breaking off abruptly, he stood and raised the bloody towel in his hand. “I’m going to rinse this off.”

Celeste watched him walk over to the sink. With his back facing her, he rinsed off the towel. What had he meant? He’d never met a woman he…what? She was dying to know.

She couldn’t dwell on it. He was here now, and something was happening between them. The tentative first steps toward…something. What it could possibly end up being, she couldn’t imagine.

He wrung out the towel and headed back to the couch, lowering himself beside her. His expression was shuttered now—unreadable.

Impulsively, she reached out. Her hand hovered above his shoulder. Then she swept her fingers across the broad black stroke of ink just below his collarbone.

He drew in a sharp breath.

The hair on the back of her neck prickled. His skin was taut, warm, smooth. The air between them felt electric, charged with something she couldn’t define.

“What does it mean?” she whispered, continuing to trace the line across his shoulder.

“It’s a tapa design. For my family and ancestors.”

“What about this?” She trailed the path to the outside of his upper arm, circling a leaf inside the pattern. Kanoe drew the washcloth down her shoulder.

“The ti leaves are symbols of rank and power.” Was it her imagination, or was his voice hoarse? “They’re also talismans against evil, to encourage the favor of the gods.”

She exhaled. “Why do the arrowheads wind around the leaves?”

“They represent the path of my life.”

He hooked his finger under her bikini’s shoulder strap, caressing the flesh underneath. “You got blood on it.”
It would only take a flick of his finger, and the strap would be down, exposing her breast.

She wanted him to do it. To strip her until she was naked, then lay her on the couch and— She swallowed that thought down.

“Ah, well. I have other bathing suits,” she said, trying to bring herself back to the realm of “light conversation with a guy I barely know”.

“Maybe a good idea not to wear this one again, anyway.” His fingertips stroked her collarbone.

“Why not?”

He stared at her mouth. “I think I like you. I don’t want you to get eaten.”

He thought he liked her!

“Eaten? What, is there a giant silver-bathing-suit-eating manta ray lurking in these waters?”

He laughed gruffly, showing off his dimples.

She couldn’t tear her focus from him. He was so sexy, he took her breath away.

“No. I mean, there are rays, but not the kind that like to eat bathing suits. The sharks, though—they’re attracted to shiny metal things. Makes them think of fish scales.”

She frowned. “Really?”

His gaze dropped to her bikini top. He rubbed the bloody strap between his fingers. “Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you tell me before?” Her cheeks were hot. She didn’t know why, really. She supposed she was angry. She could have been eaten, apparently, and he hadn’t told her. She should be angry.

He looked back up at her. “I didn’t want to scare you. Don’t worry, there hasn’t been a shark attack at this beach in…” he pondered a moment, “…two years, I think.”

“Two years? That’s not very long at all.”

“It’s long…” His voice seemed to come out in slow motion. The way his gaze had locked on to her lips sucked the air from her lungs. “Very…very…long.”

She stiffened. This guy was a stranger, she told herself. This wasn’t part of the plan. She didn’t want this.

But that was a lie. She wanted it. Bad.

His fingers closed around the back of her neck, drawing her close. His lips brushed against hers, feather-soft.

Then he kissed her.