Walking in Fire: Hawaiian Heroes, Book 1 (25 page)

A growling noise made her jump. His stomach. Then her own answered, and she pressed a hand to her middle. “I’m starving,” she said.

Their last meal had been breakfast the day before. Of course, she didn’t know if they could count the time they’d been inside the volcano as actual time because they’d been…well, dead, for a while at least. Molten lava…rumbling rocks…falling. She shook her head, queasy at the memories. She’d think about that later.

“Come in, and I’ll cook you some breakfast,” he said.

She gave him a look. “No, thank you. I’ll cook.” He grinned, and she knew she’d been had.

The kitchen was beyond the living room, and walking through the wide double doors, Melia looked around the big kitchen, immediately lusting after the countertops of dark, gleaming stone, the huge island, the rack of fine cookware hanging over it, and the big range with double ovens in the wall beside it. The sinks were on the opposite wall, with a wide recessed windowsill over them. No matter where one stood, there was a view, whether of the ocean or meadow and forest behind them.

He followed her gaze. “Okay?” he asked.

She looked at him. He was serious. “Malu, this is a dream kitchen. Who in the world designed it? A professional chef?”

He smiled at her. “My mother and my aunts.”

She swallowed, fighting the butterflies in her tummy. “Oh.” His mother. Parents. He had a big family, right nearby. Whom she had yet to meet. And of which she was now carrying a scion. So they were stuck with her, in some form, and she was stuck with them. Which had all sorts of connotations she was unprepared to deal with. She’d just come back from the dead, for God’s sake. She needed some time.

“Hey, hey,” he said, coming over to slide his fingers under her hair, warm on her neck. “’S okay, pua. You’re gonna like my family, I promise, and they’re gonna love you.”

She nodded. “It’s just a lot to take in, you know?”

“I know. So, how about you focus on right now, and feed me?” he coaxed.

That she could handle.

Malu didn’t have a lot in his huge refrigerator, but there was milk, juice and eggs. The equally capacious freezer beside it was stocked with prepared foods. There was also what looked like an entire side of beef in neatly labeled packages.

“Wow,” she said in admiration.

He handed her a glass of juice and went over to open an appliance garage on the wraparound countertop, revealing a large coffeemaker and some other intriguing gadgets. “My cousins ranch upcountry and keep me supplied with beef to grill. Fish I buy fresh when I want it.”

His stomach growled loudly. “Want some frozen waffles?” he asked, rubbing his flat abs.

She smiled at him. “No. I’m going to cook for you.”

“Really?” he looked at once wildly hopeful and doubtful. “Are you sure you feel well enough?”

She tossed her hair back, and tightened the belt on his robe. “I am a professional chef, mister.” Looking at the contents of his cupboards, Melia decided she had plenty of ingredients to make pancakes. She drained the juice and selected two frying pans from the rack. Pulling the milk, butter and eggs from the frig, she set them with the flour and leavening on the counter. “Bowl,” she said, looking around at the expanse of gleaming golden wood cabinets. “Measuring cups and whisk.”

Without a word, he opened a cupboard and a drawer. He went back to grinding coffee beans while she began to crack eggs. “Have any fresh herbs for the eggs?”

“There’s a few over here.” He pointed to a row of small pots on the wide sill behind the sinks. “Not really sure what they are. My auntie planted them for me.”

Melia rubbed a few leaves between her fingertips and sniffed. “This is thyme. You also have chives, tarragon, basil and cilantro. Fabulous.”

He watched in open fascination as she pinched a few of the herbs into the bowl and whisked several eggs with them.

She opened the flour, measured some into another bowl, looked at Malu and added another scoop. He grinned at her over his coffee cup.

“You have coffee,” she accused. “Gimme. No, wait. I shouldn’t have caffeine.” She scowled. “We are so getting a pregnancy-test kit today. I need to
know
.”

He shrugged. “We can do that. Meanwhile, have some decaf. I made a small batch for you in the press.” He held out another steaming mug, already doctored with a dash of milk.

She gazed at him, touched by his thoughtfulness. “You noticed how I drink my coffee.”

He saluted her with his cup. “I noticed a lot about you.”

She blushed and turned back to her cooking. Because judging by the look in his eyes, otherwise they wouldn’t eat for a while, and even though she was still befuddled with shock and awe at having this huge, rampant male at her sexual beck and call, she didn’t want to faint from hunger in his bed.

Malu found a jug of maple syrup and then hung over her shoulder as she turned the first plump, golden pancake, its edges sizzling crisply.

“Oh,” he groaned. “Smells so good, pua.”

Smiling, she lifted the pancake onto a platter and poured another. He reached over her shoulder, pinching a bite from the hot cake on the plate.

“Quit that,” she scolded, laughing. “It needs butter and syrup.”

As the next cake cooked, she dolloped butter and poured syrup on the first pancake and then turned to him, plate in hand, and forked up a bite for him.

“Open up,” she offered, holding the dripping bite to his lips. Malu opened his mouth and took the bite. His eyes closed in ecstasy as he chewed, and a deep moan rumbled in his chest.

She fed him the rest of the pancake, smiling with the sheer delight of his enjoyment.

He kissed her, his lips tasting of syrup and butter. “I’m your slave. Your pancakes no ka oi. Brok da mouf.”

“Really?” She kissed him back.

“But don’t burn the rest,” he murmured against her lips. “I’m still hungry.”

“Oh!” She whirled back to the stove. Fortunately, the pancake in the skillet was just ready to be turned.

He leaned against the counter, watching as she scrambled eggs in the other skillet and flipped pancakes into a small mountain on a platter.

“You love to cook,” he observed, watching her brisk, sure movements.

“I do. I’m going to cook you all my favorites.”

He sighed. “Something else to look forward to.”

They had barely settled at the table in the sunny breakfast nook, with plates of tender, fluffy scrambled eggs, hot, crisp pancakes, a pitcher of warm syrup and a bowl of fresh fruit, when Malu scowled.

“What’s wrong?” She looked at the food. “Did I forget something?”

He grabbed a pancake, slathered butter and syrup on it, and forked up a huge bite. “There won’t be any leftovers,” he said. “We’ve got company.”

She nearly choked on her first bite of mango as she heard it too, the throaty growl of an engine outside. “Your parents are here?”

He looked out the window as he chewed. “Worse. My brother Daniel.”

She speared a pancake and picked up the syrup pitcher. “Brothers are easy.” Compared to parents, anyway.

Malu consumed the rest of his pancake in record time, then shoved back his chair and strode around the counter to the door.

“Huh. Mine’s the only person I know who eats more than I do,” he told her.

“You’re afraid he’ll get your breakfast,” she realized.

“Oh, yeah. I grew up with him, remember.”

Chapter Twenty

Recipe for full recovery—take one traumatized wahine, add support of family and friends, and quality time with Hawaiian lover. Watch healing begin.

Daniel Ho’omalu was, if possible, bigger than Malu. Or maybe he just seemed so because of the way he carried himself, ready for trouble. Or because of his mane of dark hair, sun-bleached with auburn highlights, caught back from his face in a mass of braids tied at the back of his neck. Or the tribal tattoos which paraded down one side of his harshly beautiful face, down his throat and under his dark tank. Or the multi-pocketed utility pants he wore over laced boots.

He strode into the kitchen without knocking, a fearsome scowl on his face, his heavy brows drawn down, wide mouth tightened in a grim line as he looked Malu over.

Melia stared, her fork forgotten in her hand. Oh, wow. He was a Ho’omalu to the core, all right. He wore power like an aura, his darker, more mysterious than Malu’s. And all those tattoos… What on earth kinds of perilous situations had he been in?

“What the fuck you land in this time, brah?” he demanded in a deep, rough voice. “I go to an art show in Honolulu, and the next thing I know, you’re throwing drug runners to Pele like sacrifices.”

Melia made a tiny sound, and two nearly identical dark gazes turned on her, one rueful, the other turbulent, menacing.

“Um, hi,” she blurted, waving her forkful of melon in a small greeting. “So, you’re Daniel? I’m Melia. Want some breakfast? I cooked it myself.”

For a moment, the kitchen was silent, only the drip of the coffeemakers audible.

Then Malu’s big brother relaxed, his mouth quirking up at one corner. “Well, if
you
cooked it, mahalo. Don’t mind if I do. He can grill, but he can’t cook for shit.”

Malu slapped his brother on the back, grinning. “Mek plate, brah. Just save some for me, or I’ll kick your ass.”

Daniel poured himself a cup of coffee, pulled out a chair and levered himself into it, his eyes on the food. “For these grinds, you can try.”

The brothers ate with speed and concentration. Melia watched with awe as the mound of pancakes and eggs disappeared along with the bowl of cut fruit. Malu made sure she had enough but then vied with his brother to finish every scrap of food.

When the two finally put down their forks, she rose to pour them each another cup of coffee and refilled her own from the smaller pot. Then she sank back in her chair, curling one leg under her, and listened.

“She know whassup?” The question was directed at Malu, but Daniel studied her, an unnerving experience, even when she knew he really wasn’t going to gobble her up to go with his breakfast.

Malu laid his hand on her bare knee. “She does.”

Daniel nodded shortly. “Sensed it. Been a lot of chanting going on for you these last few days, little brah.”

Malu looked at him, and Melia’s heart swelled at the powerful emotion between the two men. “I felt it. Mahalo.”

Daniel nodded, then pushed his empty plate away and crossed his huge, knotted forearms on the table before him. “You set the Helman cartel back a certain distance, but they’ll be back with their Kona Kula.”

Malu nodded, his face grim. “Police will be on the lookout for them this time. They’ve put a watch on all the heli-tour companies. Any private rentals, hell, any rentals at all will be screened from now on.”

Looking out the window at the sea, Daniel narrowed his eyes, as if he could see into the distance far beyond the range of normal vision. “I don’t think they’ll try it the same way twice.”

Malu shrugged. “Well, no matter what they try, we’ll be waiting. One way or another, we’ll stop them.”

Daniel nodded. Melia stopped breathing for a moment as she gazed at the two of them. The power in the room was palpable. If the remaining Helmans and their cronies had any idea what they were up against, they’d run away with their tails tucked between their legs.

These two were truly men of kupua. Hawaiian heroes.

Daniel left soon after breakfast. He turned in the doorway, the sunlight bathing his dark, tattooed visage, highlighting the strength in his face and frame.

“Mom and Dad will be expecting to see you,” he said, raising a brow at both of them. “Better prepare Melia for the full Ho’omalu ohana tsunami.”

Malu nodded. “Thanks. We’ve already been summoned. Tomorrow evening.”

Daniel nodded. “See you there. Mahalo, Melia, for the breakfast.”

Malu closed the door behind his brother, and turned to Melia. She looked up at him, reacting instantly to the look in his eyes, heavy and intent.

“You’ve been through a lot, ku’u ipo,” he said. “I’m still worried about you. I think I better take you to bed, make sure you’re okay, yeah?”

She locked her knees, which wanted to melt. How did he do that to her, just with that look and that throaty tone in his voice? But she was still smarting from her lack of choice lately. Cocking her head, she looked him over, from the crown of his glossy black hair to his feet, big and bare.

“Maybe. I’ll decide.”

His eyes narrowed, but then he gestured politely toward the house, inviting her to choose.

She sauntered into the center of the big, sun-filled living room and turned to him, curling her bare toes into the soft rug, warmed by the sun. She looked up at him, licking the corner of her mouth to hide her uncertainty. Did she dare to take charge, the way he did? Then she remembered it was definitely her turn and narrowed her eyes at him.

“Take off your clothes and lie down,” she dared him. “Right here.”