Free The Green Room by Deborah Turrell Atkinson

distract you?” He ran one finger gently around the curve of her ear.
    Storm gave a little shiver and edged closer to him. “You’ll have to work harder than that.” She grinned. “But I do have my appetite back.”
    â€œThat’s what I like to hear.”
    In a couple of hours, Storm’s concerns about the parcel had faded to a lurking unease. The menu was filled with tempting dishes and neither she nor Hamlin had been able to make up their minds, so they ordered different entrees and shared. The restaurant was so accustomed to people doing this that waiters brought extra plates. She had shutome, or swordfish, which came with a red Thai curry basil peanut sauce. Hamlin ordered coriander-seared ono, or wahoo, and mussels with Kalua pork, taro hash, and Polynesian coconut crab. They took their time, and when they finally pushed away empty plates, Storm sighed with contentment.
    â€œWant to share dessert?” Hamlin asked.
    â€œYou’re going to go for a long walk tomorrow, while I’m going to be sitting on my derriere in the car. I’ve got to drive out to Haleiwa.”
    â€œYou do?”
    â€œI forgot to tell you. I want to talk to Stephanie about her case and she can’t get any more time off work.”
    â€œWish I could go.” Hamlin ran his eye down the menu. “Did we have to order the melting hot chocolate soufflé ahead of time?”
    â€œYes, thank God. I love it, but the most I could eat now is a few bites of sorbet.”
    The waiter showed up as if he operated by telepathy.
    â€œWe’ll have a scoop each of haupia and lilikoi sorbet, to share.”
    Storm sighed happily. “My favorites.”
    â€œI know.”
    â€œYou’re going to make me fat.”
    â€œNo way,” Hamlin said, and slid his eyes over to hers.
    â€œYou’re bad,” Storm said, and he just smiled.

Chapter Ten
    Storm didn’t even think about checking the messages on her cell phone until the next morning, when she went home to grab a bite of breakfast and feed Fang. The cat had already let herself in the kitchen pet door. She was sitting in front of the refrigerator when Storm walked through the front door, and she made scolding noises to let Storm know she’d been waiting.
    Storm rooted through the refrigerator, sniffed at a carton of milk, which still smelled okay, and dumped the remainder of some fishy stuff in Fang’s dish. She ground coffee beans, started a pot of coffee, and checked her answering machine while she waited for the coffee to finish brewing. There was a message from Ben Barstow, and when Storm called the number he’d left, she got his voice mail. She left her cell number and figured she’d catch up to him later.
    By the time she sat down, dug into her cereal, and started the crossword puzzle in the morning paper, Fang had finished her fish and jumped into Storm’s lap. This not only obliterated Storm’s view of the paper, the cat’s feet dug into her thighs. Storm got up and dumped the remainder of her breakfast into the cat’s dish.
    â€œThis is why you’re huge,” she told Fang, and washed out her dishes.
    Storm kept a bathing suit and beach towel in the trunk of her ’72 Volkswagen Beetle, and she decided to take her board, which fit if she put the top down. This meant that she would only take the freeway from her Kahala cottage as far as the Likelike Highway to Kaneohe. There, she’d get on Kahekili Highway to Kamehameha and wind along the coast through Ka‛a‛awa, Hau‛ula, and Lā‛ie, where the Brigham Young University-Hawaii campus was located. It was her favorite route, more scenic than the faster-moving H-2 freeway up through the center of the island.
    As an afterthought, Storm threw some toiletries and a change of clothes in a duffle, and added dry cat food to Fang’s bowl. The cat looked up at her with round yellow eyes.
    â€œDon’t eat it