Page 1 of His Hawaiian Heart (Stateside Doms #26)

Chapter One

Samantha

If I’d ever needed evidence that Edward A.

Murphy, Jr.’s so-called “natural law of nature” was valid, all I had to do was look at the proof before me.

Considering the fact he’d spent a great deal of his life in researching ways to improve the world for mankind, it seemed a trifle cruel that, as a fellow researcher, the phrase coined after that law was being applied to me.

And yet, watching the luggage carousel at Lihue Airport making its second loop I knew that I was witnessing the law’s validation.

“Anything that can go wrong will go wrong.”

I’d known I was pushing it given the condition and the age of my suitcase, but I hadn’t been able to bear the thought of traveling without it.

It wasn’t that it was some brand name and or was so appealing that it risked being stolen by someone coveting an upgrade to their own luggage, but because it held so many memories for me.

Well, it’s not exactly holding anything anymore.

My jaw clenched at the voice that lived inside my head.

If she wasn’t attempting to be an all-knowing guru spouting her opinion, she was spewing out quips as if auditioning for some comedy show.

When I won my fellowship at the age of twenty, I’d slapped the first decal on the suitcase as a badge of pride.

That sticker, with the likeness of the Great Pyramids of Egypt, had been joined by many others over the past eight years.

Except now it appeared that the python—depicting a stint in Florida’s Everglades—had come to life and wrapped itself around the case, squeezing until the pressure was just too much.

Items that had once been neatly packed inside were caught in the squashed halves of the case which was now barely held together by one latch.

The second had completely broken free, allowing some belongings to spill out.

The trail of destruction included a red notebook, a package of brightly hued highlighters, a book featuring a giant orange larva on its cover, and a salmon-colored t-shirt, which was then followed by a lone emerald-green stiletto.

This trip had started before dawn yesterday in India.

A language barrier had my wake-up call scheduled for the wrong time, so I’d had to race to the airport to make my flight.

And by race, I mean close my eyes and pray the entire trip that my tuk-tuk driver was not only fearless but would decide the few traffic laws didn’t apply to him.

Of course, only after I’d actually run through the airport and reached the gate ready to shout at them to hold the plane, did I find the flight had been canceled due to mechanical problems. Not about to take a chance on missing whatever plane they found to take my broken one’s place, I’d slept on the floor with my backpack as my pillow, though sleeping with one eye open meant I might have dozed between jerking to full alertness at every odd sound throughout the night.

Now more than thirty hours and three flights later, I sighed and faced the awful truth.

My suitcase had given me its best try at soldiering on, but that last toss from the belly of the plane onto a conveyer and the python’s hug had been the death knell of my traveling companion.

At least the poor thing ended its life in paradise.

Laughter had me looking from the suitcase to discover that Murphy was not yet done testing me.

If the color explosion wasn’t enough to have my fellow travelers smiling, pointing, and swapping jokes, the item currently being ejected from the airport’s maw to roll down the short ramp to join the impromptu parade of my personal items certainly did.

Except rolling wasn’t all it was doing. It was twisting and writhing, buzzing and purring.

Having somehow mysteriously turned itself on, the ribbed purple vibrator appeared to be determined to reach its owner and jump into a waiting hand.

Don’t you mean your waiting hand ?

I didn’t have the energy to argue with Ms. Smartass and knew the longer the items played ring-around-the-luggage-carousel, the more entertainment I was providing.

But it was the sight of yet another object falling out of the bag’s interior to join the other items trailing along behind my suitcase like little lost ducklings that had me taking action.

Clothing, shoes, and even BOB, my battery-operated-boyfriend, could find new homes, but when light reflected off the lens of a very unique pair of glasses, I knew there was no way I could just turn and walk away.

I had no clue how they’d fallen from their case, but they were an integral piece of equipment I needed to do my job.

Telling myself I’d never see these people again, I bent and stretched my arm out.

My fingers had just brushed the glasses when suddenly, my hand was hit by none other than the purple vibrator whose buzz seemed to have changed into a contented hum as if happy to have found me.

My fingers wrapped around the object with a familiarity that had my thumb automatically finding the location of the power switch and flicking it off.

The vibrator gave one last shuddering writhe from tip to base before going still to stand tall and blessedly silent in my hand.

A horrified gasp came from behind me followed by, “Oh my. Is that one of those… those… those dirty little s-e-x toys? Do you think she’s one of those actresses, Mildred?”

Mildred’s answer dripped with derision. “I’m wondering if her poor mother knows what kind of nasty movies her daughter makes.”

Snorts and the loud burst of laughter the women’s conversation garnered had me stiffening and yet I didn’t allow their disgust or amusement keep me from my task.

With a final stretch I managed to snag the glasses.

Straightening, I checked the earpieces and slipped them on to assure they weren’t damaged.

A snicker had me looking up to see a distorted audience I’d never asked to appear.

Evidently dozens of people had decided to take time out of their travel itineraries to watch the impromptu circus my life had become.

“You’d think she’d be able to see that dildo without using a pair of ugly-as-shit goggles, am I right or am I right?” a man in an obnoxiously loud Hawaiian shirt asked.

“You’re right. Hell, if she’s that nearsighted, she’s gonna think I’m the Jolly Green Giant,” another guy in the trio of men said before giving a laugh that instantly brought to mind the yips of hyenas fighting.

“Come on, darlin’, you don’t need no toy. We can show you how good real men can make you feel,” a third man in their group said, his hand cupping his crotch and his hips giving a lewd thrust which seemed to amuse his companions greatly if their snorts and back slaps were any indication.

“I believe I’ll pass,” I said.

“Pass? You’ll pass ?” Obnoxious Shirt asked, as if I’d spoken Latin instead of plain English.

Even from where I stood I could smell the alcohol on his breath.

Evidently, he’d begun his Hawaiian vacation on the plane.

Before he could embarrass himself further, I decided to put him out of his misery.

“I was taught to always remember my manners, so I’ll spare you the answer I’d really like to give and simply reiterate my declining of the invitation. ”

“Huh? Wha-what’d shee—” A loud hiccup accompanied by alcoholic fumes prefaced the last word Jolly Green managed to slur. “Sha-say?”

It was obvious Hawaiian Shirt hadn’t been imbibing alone. His companions all appeared to be three sheets to the wind.

“What’s wrong with us?” Hip Thruster demanded, his tone a great deal less congenial than before. His eyes narrowed even further as he snarled, “You can fuck yourself with a dirty sex toy but turn down riding a real man’s cock? ”

Seriously?

I’d been willing to give the drunks a pass, but vulgarity was where I drew the line on etiquette. “You wouldn’t know a real man if he bit you on your ass,” I said, adding a silent apology to my mother.

Another gasp sounded beside me, and I turned to see a plump older woman with snow-white hair and big round eyes shifting from me to the trio and then back to me.

I braced myself for a lecture about the evils of sex, disrespect, traveling alone or any other thing I’d done that she cared to judge me on.

Instead, she reached out a hand to pat my arm.

“Well said, my dear. I didn’t mean to startle you, but I just want to say that if the men of today believe that’s how a lady should be treated, it’s no wonder young women are reaching for batteries.”

Far more shocked at her words than those of a bunch of drunk, horny men trying to outdo one another, I smiled.

“Isn’t that the truth.” Seeing my bag disappearing into the chute of the airport’s immense interior, I knew it would be a few minutes before it reappeared.

God only knew what else it would vomit up by then.

I attempted to shrug off my backpack, the move hampered by my hands being full.

“Here, let me help you,” the woman said, reaching out her hands.

“Aren’t you afraid you’ll catch something?” Okay, so I was still stinging a bit from that earlier remark.

A trill of laughter surprised me further. “Trust me, I’m not with those women. I may be old, but I promise I’m not a Puritan who believes sex to be either dirty or nasty. Nor do I believe there is anything wrong with enjoying life’s pleasures whenever possible.”

The horror of the day lightened with her smile and her assurance, but it was when she took the vibrator as easily as she did the glasses that I truly believed her.

With my hands now free, I slid my backpack’s straps off my shoulders, unzipped it, and began to remove some items in order to assess what the best way was to shove the remainder of my belongings into its depths.

“Oh, that’s beautiful,” she said.

Startled, I looked up and then blushed.