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skirt. “Ready, girls?”
    The three of them rode down in the elevator. As they stepped out into the lobby, Claire spotted Melia first, standing with a tall, dignified Hawaiian woman. “There she is.”
    She and Bella hurried across the huge lobby, skirting groups of people. Melia held out her arms to both of them, and they met in a three-way hug.
    Melia looked beautiful, tanned and glowing. Clad in a simple, green, flowered dress and platform sandals, her long curls caught back in a loose roll at her temples and then falling free, she was as polished as the whopper of a ruby on her left hand, refined to her highest sheen. Even her freckles looked more chic.
    But her hug felt the same, and her little squeal of delight still made Claire laugh.
    After a quick hug for Grace, Melia turned to the woman who stood watching them with dark, liquid eyes that were somehow familiar. Strands of silver threaded her black hair, and she appeared statuesque, almost queenly in her pale-gray, flowered dress.
    “Tina, I’d like you to meet Grace Moran,” Melia said. “Grace, Tina Ho’omalu.”
    Of course, Claire realized with a jolt as the two women exchanged greetings. This was David and Daniel’s mother. Claire had seen those eyes earlier today, edged with the same reserve. She snorted inwardly. In Tina’s older son, it was more like a lava-rock wall. She hoped for Melia’s sake her new mother-in-law was not a hard-ass like her son. She’d better not be. Melia deserved the best.
    “And my two dearest friends,” Melia went on, smiling mistily. “Claire Hunter and Bella Moran.”
    Claire took the warm, brown hand held out to her, with another whopper of a ring, this one some smoky stone. “Pleased to meet you.”
    Tina Ho’omalu nodded graciously, but Claire swore she saw a twinkle in her eyes. Was it derision or simply good humor? Then the older woman looked past them, her expression changing. “Ah, here are the men.”
    Melia’s eyes lit up. “David, Daniel and their father are joining us.”
    Claire’s heart skipped a beat and then began to pound double-time as she turned. Wow. Just… wow . The three Ho’omalu men strode across the hotel lobby, head and shoulders above the mingling tourists, as if one of the painted panels on the walls had come to life, releasing Hawaii’s ancestral warriors into the present.
    Heads turned, and Claire saw more than one female straighten and preen themselves. She had to resist the urge to do so herself.
    Her gaze locked onto Daniel Ho’omalu. He still wore shorts, but he’d changed his tank for a soft, buttoned shirt the blue of an evening sea. And his sunglasses were gone, so she could gaze into his eyes. They were as sooty as his brother’s, but there the resemblance ended. Daniel’s eyes were guarded, watchful, the turbulence of a brewing storm in their midnight depths. His gaze met Claire’s with an impact so solid she was vaguely surprised she wasn’t rocked backward off her feet. She locked her knees as heat spiraled downward, clear to her loins, where it spread, softening her legs like butter.
    His gaze proclaimed with utter certainty that he was more than a match for her or any woman. The jut of his jaw swore that he was immune to the temptation. With an effort, Claire pulled her gaze from his before she totally humiliated herself by melting at his feet, a willing sacrifice on the hardened lava of his disdain.
    Although Homu Ho’omalu’s hair was silver, he carried himself like a much younger man in his flowered shirt and cotton shorts. His smile and the twinkle in his eyes were so like David’s that Claire had to smile back at him.
    His big paw was gentle as he squeezed her hand. “We’re honored to have our daughter’s friends with us.” Claire’s heart melted. 
    They all trooped across the lobby, through a section of ornately carved columns and onto a curving lanai. Tiki torches burned outside the broad balcony rail. The sun was sinking into the soft clouds that