Free Eden Burning by Elizabeth Lowell Page A

where he couldn’t miss seeing it.
    A few quick motions of her body had the lavalava and halter settled in the right places. She spared only a few moments more to weave her hair into an elegant mass that added defiant inches to her height. Years ago she had chosen the style simply because it discouraged men. There were few things the male of the species liked less than a woman who was taller than they were.
    Her hands hesitated. The hairstyle wouldn’t intimidate Chase. Even if she wore heels, he would still be taller than she was. With a shrug, she piled her hair up anyway. The style was cool, and Hilo was always warm. She needed no other reason than that to wear her hair as she pleased.
    She opened her purse and took out a small vial of perfume whose fragrance had haunted her since she had first discovered it a year ago. The scent was like a breeze whispering in a rain-swept tropical garden: delicate, tantalizing, sensuous, deeply feminine—all the things that she knew she wasn’t.
    And I won’t think about that either. Whimpering about it won’t do one damn thing but make my throat sore.
    Nicole picked up two slender ivory chopsticks. Each wore a cap of tassels made of strings of tiny golden bells. When the chopsticks were anchored securely in the coils of her hair, the bells gleamed and chimed sweetly with every movement of her head. She smiled at the pretty sounds. They reminded her of the past Christmas, when the Kamehameha family had given her the beautiful hair ornaments.
    Feeling more like her old self, she opened the door.
    “Your turn,” she said as she brushed past Chase in the semidarkness behind the stage. “I’ll be at Dane’s table.”
    The fleeting caress of soft skin, the elusive fragrance, the delicate chiming of bells exploded silently in Chase’s senses. For an instant he was too stunned to move. Then he reeled in his jaw and opened the bathroom door with a jerk, angry at himself for being taken off guard all over again by Nicole’s spellbinding sensuality.
    My hat’s off to you, little brother, Chase thought bleakly as he turned the shower on full. And cold. How did you hold out this long, even for Jan and the kids?
    It was a fast shower. Chase wasn’t going to leave Dane within reach of Nicole’s fire for one second longer than he had to. Ignoring the lavalava draped over the sink, he wrapped a towel around his hips and got his clothes from Bobby’s office, where he had traded them earlier for the lavalava he wore onstage. His slacks were black cotton, and his shirt was the same cold silvery gray as his eyes. He kicked into a pair of black beach walkers, settled his short, damp hair with a few impatient swipes of his palm, and stalked out to rescue Dane.
    He arrived just in time to see Nicole leave a tableful of laughing, politely drooling men and go to Dane. Rage flickered through Chase when his brother stood up and wrapped her in a big, close hug.
    “They’re going to pass a law against you.” Laughing, grinning, Dane shook his head and released Nicole. “Whoa, babe! I still don’t believe I saw that.”
    She winked. “Blame it on your brother.”
    “Yeah, he plays a mean set of drums. Only thing he’s better at is volcanoes. Speaking of unpredictable, how’s your car? Is it up to taking you home tonight, or do you—”
    Coolly Chase stepped between his brother and Nicole, cutting off the questions. “If she needs a ride, I’ll take care of it.”
    Dane knew his brother well enough to recognize the anger beneath the outwardly civilized words. He gave Chase an odd look, shrugged, and said, “Fine.”
    “Where’s Jan?” Chase asked him bluntly.
    “Working on the grant proposal, where else?”
    “Maybe she could use some help.”
    “I’m staying out of her hair,” Dane said, smiling. “What more could she ask?”
    “Moral support?” Chase suggested, his voice both soft and cold.
    Dane crossed his arms over his chest and said sardonically, “Who put the worm in