Chapter Eight
Dawn stood high on a rocky point over the resort, sweeping it with her eyes. Looking for danger, it might seem like, when in reality she was looking for Hunter.
It was their third day on the job and their third day of tangoing gingerly around each other. No matter how hard she tried to focus on work and pretend Hunter was just another man, she couldn’t convince herself of the lie. The bear shifter part almost stopped feeling significant, because the man was so damn…sweet. He always seemed to amble along and pass her a bottle of water when the sun was at its highest — and then he’d quietly back away. He would turn up out of nowhere when one of the bride’s entourage was at their pissiest to announce that Dawn was needed — immediately! — somewhere else. Ken Thomas, the head of Armor Security, was a little awed by Hunter, and every time he paused to ask Hunter’s opinion, Hunter would clear his throat and turn the question over to Dawn with a respectful, “Officer Meli, what do you think?” Then he’d tilt his head to listen — really listen — and the others did, too.
He had a knack for heading the same way as she at exactly the same time, when he would adjust his pace and merge paths with her with a quiet, undemanding “Hi.”
One syllable. Two letters. But they sent a hot rush through her body every time.
How a man that big could come off as so sweet, she had no idea. But he was. Sweet — and sexy as hell. The way he ran his fingers through his hair made her fantasize about those fingers parting her hair, and when he walked beside her, she had the overwhelming urge to brush up against his shoulder, just to feel his heat. The way he rubbed his neatly trimmed beard made her imagine him touching her skin with the same slow, ponderous strokes. Her fantasies grew more and more detailed until she imagined him inching closer and kissing her bare skin on a moonlit night.
She puffed a breath of air upward over her face, trying to cool off.
It was as if Hunter had found a mesmerizing new cologne and doubled the dose every day, because she couldn’t stop daydreaming about him — make that, dreaming about him and her naked and indulging in reckless fantasies in a dozen hidden corners of the resort.
At the same time, Hunter kept his distance, taking such care not to crowd her that she almost wished he would, just to give her something to resent.
Without love, you don’t live. Lily’s words kept echoing through her mind, making it impossible to focus on the job.
So she’d come up to the rocky outcrop in an attempt to clear her head. Surf pounded the shoreline below, making the water churn the way her emotions roiled inside her.
Get your shit together, Officer Meli, she ordered herself. All you did was kiss him.
But it was more than a kiss, and she knew it. It was the step over an invisible threshold her soul had dreamed of for years. Years of pain, loneliness, and denial of desire.
You’re not afraid of him. You’re afraid of falling in love. Lily’s words whispered through her mind.
She tried blaming her tension on the fact that the whole resort was on pins and needles now that the wedding was less than twenty-four hours away. But even when she went home in the evenings, the ache went with her. Her body screamed for relief — so long and hard, she’d taken to touching herself at night and imagining it was him.
Whether it was black magic or Hunter’s raw masculinity that got her so riled up, she didn’t care any more. All she wanted was relief.
“Up there,” someone called.
Dawn whipped her head around and cursed at the sight of three figures marching up the hill. Regina Vanderpelt led the charge, wearing movie star sunglasses that covered more skin than her bikini did. Veronica and a hand-wringing resort employee tagged along in her wake.
“I’m sorry, Miss Vanderpelt, but it really isn’t possible—”
Regina ignored the man completely. “I want the wedding up here.”
“You see that sign?” The man pointed, but the bride looked in the other direction.
“I said, I want my wedding here.”
Dawn peeked at the sign that said, Proceed at your own risk. Do not approach cliff. Rocks may be unstable.
“The lawn is much better,” Veronica tried.
“I don’t want a fucking lawn wedding. I came to Hawaii for a beach wedding,” Regina snapped.
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” the man said. “That freak storm may be a thousand miles offshore, but the swell is increasing every hour.”
Dawn peered at the surf pounding into the rocks below, unperturbed by the vertical drop. If she were an owl, it would be the perfect place to roost. Well — fifty years ago, it would have been. Now that resorts had taken over most of the coast, the native birds had all moved to quieter nesting grounds.
Regina made a face. “I don’t care. I want the wedding moved up here. It’s the same view. An even better view. And I want it.”
“You can fit a lot more guests on the lawn,” the man said.
Regina made a face. “I’ll just un-invite a few.”
Veronica checked her tablet. “You’re already down to three hundred. And that’s not counting the guests your parents invited.”
Regina sniffed. “Crotchety old businessmen. They’d rather spend the day golfing anyway. Besides, I’ll look really good in my white dress with the ocean behind me. If that idiot photographer gets the angle right, that is.”
Dawn edged downslope, away from Regina’s cloud of negative snobbery.
Veronica clucked quietly. “What a tragedy it would be if the rock gave way, taking you and Ricky with it.” Her voice had a wistful quality to it.
“You can always bring the groom up here for a photo before the wedding,” the man suggested.
Dawn wondered if the groom would sober up enough to manage the uphill climb. Ricky Zappello, the boy-band rock star, had arrived at the resort the day before, more than a little glassy-eyed.
“I don’t want a picture. I want the wedding up here,” Regina insisted, stamping her foot.
“Whoa—” the man muttered as the ground underfoot shook.
Dawn threw her hands out for balance. Veronica yelped and covered her head as if the sky threatened to fall on her head instead of the cliff giving way under her feet.
“Nobody move,” Dawn shouted, praying that, for once, Regina would listen. Because, wow. Either the outcrop really was unstable, or Regina was a lot more powerful than she looked.
Regina’s face turned white, but when the shaking stopped, she went back to her usual scowl.
“Hmpf.” She turned up her nose and stomped down the hill. “I didn’t want my wedding up here anyway.”
And off she went on her next battle charge, the amethyst in her engagement ring flashing in the sun. Dawn wondered which unlucky soul would be the butt of Regina’s scorn next.
“Come along, Veronica,” Regina snipped in the tone she might use with a pet poodle.
Veronica followed, as did the man, who shot Dawn a wide-eyed look.
“I swear she’ll give me a heart attack one of these days. The sooner this wedding is over, the better,” he muttered.
Somehow, the notion didn’t sit well with Dawn. When the wedding was over, her special assignment would be over, too, and then she’d be back to fleeting glances of Hunter on the highway instead of hours spent together on the same job.
She checked her watch as she walked down the hill. Only ten minutes to catch a bite to eat in the tent set up for staff near the wedding site. She snagged one of the last sandwiches off a tray and stepped aside to eat it, wondering if Hunter had taken his break yet.
Employees and security personnel rotated through the tent, murmuring as they flopped down in plastic chairs.
“Another day of this and I’ll be so done,” someone sighed.
“How much you want to bet that this million-dollar wedding ends in divorce five months down the line?” A man laughed.
“More like five weeks,” someone else quipped, and everyone laughed.
“Remind me never to get married like this,” a woman said.
“Like you’d have the money to.”
“Even if I did, it wouldn’t be like this.”
“How would you get married?” someone asked, eliciting a flood of ideas — everything from sandbars at low tide to castles in Scotland or even Disneyland.
Right here on Maui, Dawn couldn’t help thinking. A quiet little ceremony, with just a few friends. The ones who really count.
She closed her eyes, imagining a grassy lawn shaded by palm trees. A pure blue sky. Brown eyes gazing into hers, promising to love her forever.
The flaps at the far side of the tent slapped open, and Hunter and Cruz stalked in. Everyone stopped and stared for a moment. Something about their powerful aura did that every time. Hunter frowned and Cruz scowled, making everyone drop their gazes as if guilty of some crime.
Dawn, though, kept her eyes on Hunter, whose eyes swept over the area and came to rest on hers. Brown eyes just as soft and devoted as the ones in her daydream. His chest rose with a deep, slow breath, and Dawn stared while the conversation around her picked up again.
“I don’t think young people know what love is these days,” an older woman sighed.
Dawn’s pulse skipped. Funny, she had the feeling she did.
“Maybe we should give them the benefit of the doubt.”
Dawn bit her lip. Did that apply to a man who could shift into a bear?
“Maybe Regina really meant it about that sex video scandal — that she was just playing around. Maybe she’s finally found true love.”
An older woman scoffed. “True love is patience. Persistence. Self-sacrifice.”
Dawn worked a bite of sandwich down with a dry gulp, studying Hunter.
“True love is when just being close to the person is enough.”
Dawn’s eyes locked on Hunter’s, and time stood still.
“Love is about the little things, not grand gestures,” the woman added.
Dawn’s hands trembled, and her cheeks warmed. Love should be a vague, undefinable thing, and yet it seemed entirely tangible just then. Love was joy and peace and, yes, a little bit of fear balanced with a great reward.
The older woman sighed, and Dawn did, too.
Then someone snapped their fingers and said, “I need two volunteers. Right now.”
“I think those two will be perfect,” a man who sounded a lot like Kai said.
“Right. You and you. Come with me.”
Someone nudged Dawn, and she ripped her eyes off Hunter. “Who, me?”
Kai stood at the entrance to the party tent, wearing a mischievous grin. The photographer beside him gestured at Dawn and Hunter. “Come on already. This will just take a second.”
Hunter balked, as did Dawn, but Kai hustled both of them along. “No need to dally, kids.”
Dawn frowned. What was going on? Hunter’s nostrils flared like a dog testing the air for an intruder. But there was no disturbance outside the tent, just the section of lawn that had been cordoned off beside the bandstand. What did the photographer want? And why did Kai seem so amused?
The photographer fiddled with a light meter and squinted into the sun. “Over there, please.” He motioned Dawn and Hunter into the center of the square and circled them. Hunter circled too, a wary expression on his face.
“Perfect,” the photographer murmured, totally unaware of the bear lurking inside the man he’d just put on high alert. “Now get a little closer…”
Dawn’s jaw dropped. Hunter looked to Kai, who shrugged.
“Come on. Help a guy out, won’t you?” the photographer said in his nasal tone. “I need to check my angles for the wedding party tomorrow. You, put your hand on his shoulder,” he said to Dawn. “And you, put your hands on her waist.”
Dawn and Hunter stared at each other like a couple of awkward seventh graders at their first dance.
“Don’t just stand there. Dance. Honestly, how hard is that?”
If Hunter hadn’t looked absolutely petrified, Dawn might have balked. But her heart softened, and she took his hands.
Hunter gulped and looked down, and she did, too. His hands dwarfed hers, but his grip was soft. Perfect, in fact. She stepped a little closer, trying to breathe steadily.
Hunter tipped his chin, following her movements, and his Adam’s apple bobbed.
“Better,” the photographer murmured, moving around them. His rapid-fire camera clicked away. Then he checked the results and adjusted the setting. “Over there a little more. And I need her on my side.”
A low growl built in Hunter’s throat, and Dawn might have laughed if she hadn’t been holding her breath. Funny that she actually liked the feeling of Hunter keeping other men away. She turned slightly for the photographer, squeezing Hunter’s hands. The second she did, his eyes softened.
Well, dang. Was that all it took to calm a bear shifter down? A little touch? A smile? She thought back to the day of the shifter battle and filtered through the memories. The image of a murderous bear had pushed every other memory aside, but when she searched deeper, she realized there was more. Hunter had only looked fierce when he’d halted her attacker. Moments later, when he shifted back to human form, all she had seen was sorrow. Deep, deep sorrow through eyes that beseeched her, begging for a chance to explain.
I only want to protect you. To love you. Forever, if you’ll let me. Please.
Slowly, she ran her hands up his forearms.
True love is patience. Persistence. Self-sacrifice, the woman in the tent had said.
Dawn took a deep breath, working her hands up to his shoulders. Boy, did he smell nice. Like oak and leather. Like the Kahalawai peaks after a spring shower. Like koa, the toughest kind of wood.
“Just a little more to the right,” the photographer murmured.
She stepped right, then put her weight back on her left foot, and then shifted right again, swaying into a pantomime of a dance.
Hunter’s arms loosened slightly, and his chest brushed hers. She nestled a little closer.
The speakers squeaked with static, and music started up with an old-fashioned tune that worked its way into her limbs and told them how to move. She’d never been much of a dancer, but wow. It wasn’t actually that hard. Not with Hunter there and the music helping her along. It helped him, too, because he gradually loosened up and started swaying to the beat.
“Perfect,” the photographer murmured. “Let me just try my other lens…”
Dawn tuned the voice out and concentrated on Hunter instead. The man was rock solid, yet he yielded to the slightest pressure to turn this way or that. His chin was close to her cheek — so, so tempting to nuzzle against.
And oops, she really did sneak in a nuzzle. Or two. Maybe even three, until Hunter tipped his head against hers and snuggled her in even closer, and that was nice, too.
She had the vague feeling that people were watching, but her mind was just blurry enough not to care.
“Okay, just one more shot over here,” the photographer said.
Dawn nearly murmured, No rush. She could keep this up all day.
Hunter’s hands moved over her back, and her imagination ran away with the idea of all the other parts of her body they might wander to. Not that they did, damn it. She pressed her hips against his and felt him nudge back. Her lips parted as she considered kissing his neck, though a fuzzy sensation told her she’d better not — yet. Which was puzzling, because it felt so perfect, squeezing her body against his. Natural. Peaceful, almost. Why should she hold back?
Then a sudden racket sounded behind her, and Hunter lunged around, protecting her body with his.
Dawn’s eyes fluttered as she fought to focus. Whew. Where was she? What was happening?
“Sorry,” the photographer said sheepishly, stepping away from the chair he’d backed into. “Anyway, that’s enough. You can go back to work.”
No, she wanted to protest. I’m not ready yet.
But then the blood rushed to Dawn’s face, and her brain switched back on. Wait — had she just been slow-dancing with Hunter?
His face was as pink as hers must have turned, and they stared at each other, half a step apart. His eyes glowed, and it wasn’t a trick of the light.
A lump formed in her throat. She hadn’t even realized how close she’d gotten to Hunter. She hadn’t felt anything but an inner pull. No fear, no panic gripping her body, telling her to scream and shove him away.
“Hunter,” she murmured, not really sure what she wanted to say. Thank you? Don’t let me go? I’m sorry?
He squeezed her hands, and his lips turned up in a smile.