Javen gazed out across the sapphire waters to the island of Maui, fast receding as the catamaran approached Lanai. The sky above them was purely blue, dotted here and there with fluffy white clouds, and the sun was shining brightly. A gorgeous day for a day trip to Lanai, and a perfect day for snorkeling, he decided.

Something flashed in the corner of his vision. He turned from the rail, his eyes drawn like magic to a young woman reclining on a beach towel atop the cabin of the Trilogy.

Her slim tanned body was clad in a pair of practical white cotton drawstring shorts and an aquamarine "Bike Down the Volcano" shirt she must’ve picked up from the tour company after a ride down the side of Haleakala. Her face was tilted up to the sun, fiery gold hair streaming out behind her in the wind, eyes closed. She looked the picture of a tawny cat sunning itself. He didn’t need to ask if she was alone.

A smile curved his lips as he approached her.

He leaned against the side of the cabin down below her, his amber eyes level with her dangling ankles. As though she sensed him, her eyes opened, revealing startling depths of lime green. He blinked in shock, mouth dropping open.

"Yes, men often have that reaction," she faintly purred, a wicked gleam in her eyes. She chuckled. "I suggest you close your mouth, unless you’re out to catch a snapper." He chuckled in return.

"Princess, if I closed my mouth, then you wouldn’t hear the sonnet I’ve just composed in honor of your beauty." The sun caught his eyes then, gold flecks glinting in them as he gave her a mock bow.

She arched a brow at him, grinning flirtatiously. "Indeed? Well, lay on, MacDuff, for a woman can never hear too many sonnets."

"Beautiful and literate? Be still my beating heart!" He clutched his hands to his chest as she laughed, a low velvety sound. He reached out and caught at one of her ankles then, and his eyes locked on hers. "You here on a vacation, Princess? You don't have the ... feel of an islander."

She laughed at the innuendo. "Yes, m’lord, I am here on vacation. And that’s ‘Your Royal Highness’ to you, sugar. Or Janelle, if you prefer."

"Janelle," he murmured, her name rolling off his tongue. "It suits you."

She inclined her head regally. "So I’ve been told. Mind letting go of me now, babe?" she asked, gesturing to his hand on her ankle. 'Wouldn’t want to mar the goods." He obediently released her ankle with a sly wink.

"I’m Javen, a lowly cook at the Royal Lahaina. I’m the guy who gets to show all the morbid mainlanders how we roast the pig for the luau Wednesday nights. Enchante, Princess." He held out his hand for hers, pressing a soft kiss upon it.

"Romantic and bilingual? Now whose turn is it to be amazed?" She sniffed delicately and moved to withdraw her hand, but he held it tightly in his.

She opened her mouth to say something more, but was interrupted by the voice of the captain over the intercom. "Attention: we are now docking at Lanai. Please gather up your things and move into a single file line to disembark. Ladies first, gentlemen," he said jocularly.

Janelle sighed with relief. "Finally! I thought we’d never get here."

Javen cocked his head quizzically. "You didn’t enjoy the ride over?"

She snorted and shook her head emphatically, leaning down to whisper, "I get seasickness. I was sunning myself and conjugating Spanish verbs in my head to take my mind off it when you came along."

He laughed heartily. "Princess, you absolutely amaze me. Tell me, do you even swim?"

She glared at him. "Of course I do. Quite well, thank you. I even snorkel, Senor Pig Roaster."

He laughed again. "A beautiful seasick mainlander who snorkels. Will wonders never cea...?" He broke off as she dropped a pink-and-black diving bag on him from above. "Oomph! Damn, Princess, go easy on a poor guy," he muttered, hefting it.

She smiled sweetly. "Too heavy for you, darling?"

"I think I can manage," he murmured, referring to more than her gear.

She laughed lightly as she leapt down gracefully to the deck. Dear God, she even moves like a cat, came the unbidden thought. She pulled her towel off the cabin roof and tucked it on top of her bag.

"Why, thank you for offering to carry my bag, Senor Pig Roaster. They sure grow them polite in these parts, don’t they?" Her smile was most saccharine.

His teeth flashed brilliantly in response. Remind me to day trip out here more often, he thought to himself.

Disembarking proved a quick task, and ten minutes later, the group was loaded aboard a trio of white Jeeps, headed for the bay. As if by design, Javen and Janelle were bundled together.

"So, where’re you staying, Princess?" he asked casually, hanging on to one of the Jeep’s roll bars for dear life.

She turned her head and gazed into his eyes, almost stealing his breath away again with their startling hue. "You mean, you don’t know, dear?" She quirked a brow at him, smiling deviously.

His eyes widened. "You! You’re mainlander that the desk staff kept complaining about. I should’ve connected ‘snobby redhead’ with you." He chuckled.

Her brow raised again. Such an aristocratic arch she has, he thought. "Yes, it was quite snobbish of me to demand that I be given a suite, wasn’t it? I mean, who wouldn’t simply bunk down in the room that they had originally booked, and just ignore the missing TV and obnoxious painters taking up residence in it?"

He winced. "Point taken. My apologies, Princess. We usually strive to be a little more accommodating. ‘Mahalo,’ and all that."

She patted his leg and winked. "No problemo, Senor Pig Roaster."

His eyes flicked to the necklace she wore. It was a series of sterling silver blocks on a chain that spelled out her name. He was intrigued by the simplicity of it, half expecting that a woman like her would only wear gold and diamonds.

The Jeeps rolled to a halt then, and Javen jumped out. She passed her bag to him, and he hefted his own, headed up the dirt path for the wooden pavilion in the shade of the palms. He set their bags down on one of the tables inside ... and strolled off. Janelle frowned, then shrugged and sat down on the bench.

After a lunch of barbecued ribs and pineapple juice, one of the crewmates demonstrated for the crowd in the pavilion how to tell the difference between a male and a female pineapple. (Pineapples have sexes? Janelle thought. How queer.) Her mind wandered.

Their tour guide, a short, wiry Aussie fellow who’d spent the ride over on the catamaran regaling a group of German ladies with tales of his days on the rowing team at Pepperdine, was droning on about the history of Lanai. Normally Janelle adored Aussie accents and paid close attention to their owners, but today she felt distracted. She gazed out into the bay.

"This is the part where he tells you how much Bill Gates’ wedding here on the island cost," Javen whispered into her ear.

She shivered, whispering back in her throaty voice, "Do you always sneak up on a body like that?"

"Only the beautiful ones," came the soft reply. She chuckled appreciatively, not noticing when he slipped off again.

"All right!" their guide called out in the voice she’d pinned down to West Oz. "Who’s ready to go snorkeling?" The crowd roared in the affirmative, and there was mad dash from the tables out onto the warm white sands of the beach. Janelle slung her bag over her shoulder with a tiny grunt and struck out.

A few minutes later, she’d stripped down to her Caribbean blue one-piece suit. Her neon pink goggles were affixed tightly to her face, matching snorkel attached and flippers on her feet. A disposable underwater camera dangled from a strap on her wrist. She flopped awkwardly down the beach to the water’s edge, turning around and moving backwards into the tide. Javen watched her from shore, a smile on his handsome dark face.

Janelle turned and moved fluidly through the water until it came up to her breasts. Then in one smooth motion she was on her stomach, floating over it, peering through her goggles at the wondrous world below her.

Schools of brightly colored fish darted around beds of coral of every size and shape imaginable. Look at that! She thought, gazing at the coral intently. That one looks like a brain ... and that one like antlers ... and that looks like cottage cheese. How funny. The little camera at her wrist snapped away.

Farther and farther she drifted out from shore, unmindful.

After fifteen minutes of lazy floating, she brought her body down into the water so she could clean the haze from her goggles, leaving her snorkel piece in her mouth. Her camera kept getting in the way, however, and with annoyance she pulled the rubber strap off her wrist and held it in her hand. And promptly lost her grip on it. The little camera floated downward.

Automatically, she arched her body to dive down - and got a snorkel full of water for her trouble. She came up for air, sputtering as she ripped the snorkel from her mouth. A chuckle drifted to her ears.

"I thought you said you could snorkel, Princess?"

She whirled in the water, sending little ripples away from her. "I can, damn you! I just dropped my camera, and I ... She trailed off lamely.

He laughed at her with his eyes. "Don’t worry, Princess. I’ll fetch your precious camera for you." He pulled his mask and snorkel off, passing them to her. "Try not to drop these, okay?" He was diving deep before the indignant gasp passed her lips.

Javen’s hand closed around the camera, lifting it from the sand with ease. His bronzed body moved upwards through the crystalline waters. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied several gray bodies rocketing through the bay towards them. He quickly broke the surface. Janelle grabbed his arm, pointing.

"Oh, Javen, look!" she breathed with delight. "Dolphins!"

"Yes, Princess, dolphins. Spinners, if I don’t miss my mark. A whole pod of ‘em. Does Princess want to touch the dolphins?" he asked teasingly. She glared at him. He merely chuckled and reached for his snorkel and mask, slipping them back on, and securing the camera to her wrist.

The dolphins circled them lazily, enjoying human company in their bay. Janelle’s laughter echoed across the waters as they darted playfully about, allowing themselves to be stroked now and again. In her joy, she completely forgot to snap some pictures. And suddenly, the dolphins were gone. Janelle’s heart stopped.

She pulled her goggles down over her eyes and laid her face on the water, knowing instinctively what she’d see. There, about fifteen yards away, was a brownish-gray body cutting through the water that she instantly recognized as a shark.

She watched it, her mind quickly calculating. Bull shark, roughly ten feet, and he’s side-to-side slowly, so he’s just cruising. Thank God. We’ll be okay. She closed her eyes and breathed a mental sigh of relief that she’d remembered to remove her necklace. When she opened them again the shark was merely ten yards away. Her heart sped up in spite of what she’d told herself.

Javen’s own heart was drumming rapidly, and something primitive was coursing through his veins. He glided silently through the water to move in front of her, protective. He slipped his mask and snorkel off, letting them fall to the ocean floor. He blinked rapidly to accustom his eyes.

Janelle’s eyes widened. What the hell is he doing? she wondered.

The shark cruised closer to the couple, body twisting in surprisingly graceful motions. Javen stroked out from his chest, moving towards it.

Javen and the shark were but ten feet apart in the water. Janelle felt utter terror curl in the pit of her stomach like a fist. Javen seemed unafraid, however. His hand came out in front of him, fingers making a strange sign. His lips moved. The shark circled closer. For a terrible moment, Janelle was sure they were goners.

Time froze. Then the shark turned and headed back out to sea.

Janelle exhaled noisily through her snorkel. Javen rose out of the water and drifted next to her. She moved her mouthpiece aside and strangled sound came from her throat. He pulled her into his arms, holding her briefly as she gathered herself. Then as one they turned and swam towards shore.

Hand-in-hand they stumbled up out of the shallows and onto the wet sand of the shoreline. They fell to the ground and tore off what remained of their gear, tossing it carelessly aside. Other group members splashing in the shallows or relaxing on the beach glanced at them curiously, but they paid them no mind.

"Princess, you’re pale," he whispered as he rubbed the back of his hand along her cheek. Exhaustion shone in her lime green eyes.

"Javen, how ... how did you do that, back there? What did you do?"

"You forget," he murmured, stroking her wet hair. "I’m Hawaiian. We respect brother shark, and he in turn respects us." He cast a single glance over the bay before turning and lifting her to her feet and leading her up the beach to her towel.

The catamaran ride back to Maui was quiet. Javen looked out over the ocean, brooding, while Janelle stood on the starboard side, hands gripping the rails, eyes fastened on Haleakala to keep her center of gravity. A brief storm blew up, making the waters choppy and doing nothing to help Janelle’s seasickness. She kept her stomach nonetheless, barely noticing.

And then they were standing on the dock next to the Trilogy in the light of approaching dusk. Javen, unsure of what Janelle’s plans were, set their bags down on the planks. He watched her as her eyes roamed over the crowds of tourists swarming through downtown Lahaina on the way to Planet Hollywood or the Hard Rock Café.

"I’d ... I’d like to head back to the hotel now, Javen," she whispered, looking away. He caught her chin in his hand and turned her face back to his, met her eyes. Then he bent to pick up their bags. She stood still, lips pursed in thought.

"Might as well head back together, since we’re going to the same place," he said, breaking the quiet. She nodded silently. They strolled along the street towards the resort, in no particular hurry.

A minute later, she spun, eyes flashing with sudden anxiety. "Oh, my God! Javen, your gear! We forgot your gear!" He set their bags down.

"Princess, another day. I can go back for it another day. It’ll still be there." She started to open her mouth again, but he laid a finger across her lips. His eyes dropped to her bare neck. "Princess, where is your necklace?"

Her brow furrowed in momentary confusion, then she brightened. Her hand fished into one of her pockets, and out came the silver blocks and chain. "Could you ...?" She looked up into his eyes, hopeful. He smiled warmly and took it from her, turning her around before him.

With a deftness she found surprising in a man, he gently fastened the tiny clasp at the base of her neck. His breath was warm on her skin, causing her to shiver.

She turned and found herself in the circle of his arms. "Say ... Don’t you have a pig to roast, Senor Pig Roaster?" she asked innocently, smiling up at him with mischievous eyes.

"The damned pig can wait," he muttered as his lips descended on hers. She moaned her agreement into his mouth, arms hooking around his neck to pull him closer.

Neither of them noticed as the sun slipped gently beneath the horizon, painting the waters every shade of fire.