Eight
Showtime.
The rhythmic sound of the drums pounded in the distance. On cue, one spotlight, then another, lit up the stage at the center of the open courtyard. With loud whoops and cries, the Mau Loa Maui dancing troupe took the stage.
Kalani Bishop watched the show begin from the dark corner of the courtyard. Spread out across the lawn of his resort were hundreds of hotel guests. They were mesmerized, as was Kal, by the beautiful movements of the traditional Hawaiian dancers onstage. He had no doubt that he had the finest traditional dancers on the entire island of Maui. He could have nothing less at his hotel.
The Mau Loa Maui had been the brainchild of Kal and his younger brother, Mano. Their family hotel, the original Mau Loa, was located on Waikiki Beach on Oahu. Growing up, they had dreamed of one day not only taking over the Oahu location but expanding the resort chain to other islands. First—Ka’anapali Beach in Maui. Kal had fallen in love with the island the moment he arrived. It was so different from Oahu—so lush and serenely beautiful. Even the women were more sensual, in his opinion, like ripe fruits waiting for him to pick them.
It was without question the most beautiful hotel on the island. The look on his grandparents’ faces when they arrived at the resort the first time was proof enough that they approved of his work. The tourists certainly did. Since they opened, the resort had remained at capacity and had reservations booked solid a year in advance. They made vacation fantasies come true.
Part of the Hawaiian fantasy included attending an authentic luau with the kind of dancing seen in movies. At the Mau Loa Maui, the luau took place three nights a week and included a full dinner of kalua pork, poi, fresh pineapple, mango rice and other traditional Hawaiian foods. The guests sat on pillows around low tables that surrounded the stage.
Kal had worked hard to craft the perfect atmosphere for this hotel. Flames leaped from torches stationed around the wide lawn, lighting the area now that the sun had finally set into the sea beyond the stage. The fire cast shadows that flickered across the faces of the dancers and the musicians who beat drums and chanted along with them.
One of the female dancers took center stage. Kal smiled as his best friend, Lanakila Hale, commanded the attention of every person in the courtyard. Before she even began her solo dance performance, she had captivated the audience with her traditional Hawaiian beauty. She had long, wavy black hair that flowed over her golden brown skin. A crown of Plumeria flowers sat atop her head and circled her wrists and ankles. She was wearing a skirt made of long, green ti leaves that showed the occasional flash of her upper thighs and a bright yellow fabric top that bound her full breasts, leaving her stomach bare to highlight her toned core.
He couldn’t help admiring her figure. They were friends, but it was impossible to ignore that Lana had an amazing dancer’s body. It was hard, sculpted and lean after years and years of professional dance training. While she specialized in traditional Hawaiian dance, she had studied dance at the University of Hawaii and was well versed in almost every style including ballet, modern dance and hip-hop.
As the drums continued to beat faster, Lana kicked her movements into high gear. Her hips gyrated and swayed to the rhythm as her arms moved gracefully to tell the story of that particular hula dance. The hula wasn’t just entertainment for tourists; it was his culture’s ancient storytelling method. She was amazing, even better than she had been the night he first saw her dance in nearby Lahaina and knew he wanted her at his new hotel as the head choreographer.
Lana was the human embodiment of contradiction. She was both an athlete and a lady: strong and feminine, hard and yet with womanly curves in abundance. He couldn’t imagine a more physically perfect specimen of a woman. She was an amazing person, too. Smart, quick-witted, talented and not afraid to call him on his crap, which he needed from time to time.
He turned away to focus on the crowd as he felt his body start to react to her physical display. He didn’t know why he tortured himself by watching the show when he knew what it would lead to. With each beat of the drum and thrust of her hips, his muscles tensed and his pulse sped up.
Kal reached up to loosen his tie and take a deep breath to wish away his attraction to Lana. It happened more often than he’d like where she was concerned, but who could blame him?
She might be his best friend, but she was undeniably his type. She was every red-blooded male’s type, but she specifically checked every one of his boxes. If he had a list, and he didn’t, because Kal didn’t do relationships. Even if it wouldn’t damage their friendship—and it would—there were other issues at play. Namely that he wasn’t interested in the family and the white picket fence, and of course, Lana wanted the whole shebang more than anything. He couldn’t risk sampling the forbidden fruit because she’d want him to buy the whole fruit basket. Giving in to his attraction for her could be a disaster, because if she wanted more and he didn’t, where did that leave them?
Former best friends.
That wasn’t an option, so they were to be friends and nothing more. He just wished he could convince his erection of that. They’d been friends for over three years now and he’d been unsuccessful so far. That meant the occasional cold shower to keep things in check, but he was managing.
The other female dancers joined Lana after her solo to complete the routine. That was a helpful distraction. When they were finished, the male dancers took the stage and the ladies made a quick exit to change into their next dance costume. At the Mau Loa, the show went through the whole history of hula, covering years of styles and dress as it evolved. Kal didn’t just want some cheesy performance to entertain the hotel guests; he wanted them to learn and appreciate his people and their culture.
“Do we meet with your approval, boss man?” a woman’s voice asked from beside him.
Kal didn’t have to turn to recognize Lana’s low, sultry voice. He glanced to his left and found her standing beside him. As the choreographer, she did some dancing and filled in for ill or absent performers, but she didn’t participate in the majority of the numbers herself.
“Some of you do,” he noted, turning away from the show to focus all his attention on her. To be honest, the only dancer who could truly hold his interest was standing right beside him. “Alek is looking a little off tonight.”
Lana’s head snapped around to the
