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  LAST NIGHT

  Meryl Sawyer

  THE ICE QUEEN. THE LADY KILLER. A TROPICAL ISLAND PARADISE…

  Her cool disdain and measured judgements led men to call her icy. Judge Dana Hamilton could not afford to trust any man. Until the least trustworthy man of all stormed into her life. Rob Tagett, star reporter for the Honolulu Sun, a jet-haired, blue-eyed lady-killer, was her only chance to find and destroy the blackmailer who threatened her career… and her life. His own unsavory reputation and the scandal that had forced his resignation from the police force made them an unlikely couple—although Rob made his intentions clear from the start.

  …THE POSSIBILITIES ARE ENDLESS.

  They would pose as lovers, living together, sharing the same bed, as they vacationed in the private Hawaiian island paradise owned by the power broker who had reason to destroy them both. Suddenly Rob was her only hope. She had to choose— between devastating secrets that tore them apart and passion she could no longer deny…

  1

  "It looked like a chicken—you know, feathers 'n all —but it was a jockstrap."

  A titter rippled across the courtroom and the witness stopped, a flush rising up her cheeks to her gray hair. Judge Dana Hamilton tapped her gavel, silencing the courtroom crowded with snowbirds who had retired to Hawaii and found themselves bored. She could count on having them pack her court whenever the weather was hot or a sensational case was being tried. Today the temperature hit triple digits, and the "Fowl Flasher" was on trial.

  "You may continue," Dana told the witness. Behind the concealing judge's bench she hiked up her robes and skirt to the tops of her thighs. Lordy, would they ever fix the air conditioner? It wheezed audibly, puffing moist air like a vaporizer.

  "The man was standing on the beach wearing a trench coat," the witness said. "He motioned to me and I walked over. That's when he threw open his coat and I saw this… this… chicken thing. Then he tore it off and threw it into the water."

  A volley of laughter erupted and Dana whacked the gavel on the wood, adding one more dent to the countless nicks left by fifty-plus years of judges in department seven, Municipal Court of Honolulu. The resounding bang was an effective substitute for her own pent-up laughter. The image of the flasher tossing the jockstrap in the surf tickled her. It shouldn't have—judges were supposed to be above such a human failing—but it did.

  She had a bit of a temper and an irreverent sense of humor that made her a little sarcastic at times. Hide your emotions, she told herself. The tough grind through law school and the years in the district attorney's office were finally paying off. She had a place on the municipal court; in time she hoped to move to a higher court. She'd better learn more self-control.

  As she silenced the crowd with another thump of the gavel, she accidentally glanced at Rob Tagett. She had noticed him that morning when she'd ascended the two steps to the bench, but she'd never once permitted her gaze to stray to the first row where the members of the fourth estate had reserved seats. She had absolutely no use for reporters. And Rob Tagett, star reporter for the Honolulu Sun, ranked right at the top of her list of creeps.

  Sometimes, late at night, when she was in bed alone, she thought about his rich, smoky laugh and the twilight blue of his eyes. During the day she had no trouble recalling how he'd gone for her jugular with one of his typically damning articles. Were the ugly rumors she'd heard about him true? Charges had never been filed against him. Still, the gossip about Rob was too consistent to discount entirely.

  Rob was smiling, evidently finding the Fowl Flasher as humorous as she did. He winked at her, but she pretended not to notice.

  "Please go on," she told the witness, warning the crowd with a frown.

  Finally the testimony concluded and Dana gave the jury its instructions, then quickly left the courtroom through the judge's door directly behind her without glancing at Rob Tagett. She yanked off her robe, telling her secretary, "Call maintenance again about the air. Scream this time."

  "Right away," Anita said, reaching for the telephone.

  Dana hung her robe on the padded hanger she kept on the back of her door and glanced around the room. She'd inherited the shelves of leather-bound books and the oak desk from the previous judge. She'd added her own personality to the small office with a Wyland sea-life print. She'd splurged on it, giving herself a present for being appointed a judge after so few years in the district attorney's office.

  Of course, she'd received dozens of small presents and enough flowers for a gangster's funeral, but no one knew her well enough to realize how much she loved this painting. It showed the sea with the dolphins playing on the surface chasing a whale. What fascinated her more was the activity beneath the sea: the fishes, the coral, the deep-blue current sweeping the sand along the bottom.

  A hidden world. Just like people, she thought. What you couldn't see was often more interesting than what was on the surface.

  Anita buzzed her on the intercom. "Judge Sihida's on the line."

  Dana glanced at the school clock on the wall between the American flag and the Hawaiian state flag. Two o'clock. Gwen should be back in court by now.

  "Why are you taking such a late lunch recess?" Gwen Sihida asked. "I'm keeping my entire court waiting just to talk to you."

  Dana knew this had to be important. Gwen never kept anyone waiting. Petite, fortyish, with jet black hair and eyes to match, Gwen was Dana's closest friend on the court. "I wanted this flasher case to go to the jury. With any luck they'll have a verdict today."

  "How did my brother do with your wisdom teeth?"

  Dana almost said that she'd rather preside over a serial killer's case than go to Gwen's brother again. "It hurts a little."

  "That's to be expected. Frank said you had the most impacted wisdom teeth he'd ever seen." Gwen laughed as Dana touched her sore gum with the tip of her tongue, hoping she had another pain pill. Otherwise she would be miserable all afternoon.

  "Are you sitting down?" Gwen asked. Dana dropped into her chair, then swiveled nervously from one side to the other. "Judge Parker announced his retirement this morning. Guess who's being considered for his seat on the superior court?"

  "You," Dana responded, thinking how great this would be for her friend. After years on the municipal bench Gwen had run for superior court and lost. "It's about time. They need a woman."

  "They're considering you, Dana."

  "Me?" Shocked, Dana stopped swinging from side to side. "I'm too young."

  "Bullshit," Gwen said with characteristic frankness. "Thirty-four isn't too young. The last appointee was thirty-six."

  "And a man." Dana took a deep breath, shocked yet thrilled at the unexpected news. "I'm sorry they're not considering you, Gwen. They'll never appoint me. They're just paying lip service to women. That post will go to a man. You watch."

  "Don't bet on it."

  Dana understood the bitterness she heard in Gwen's voice. She had five brothers. One was a dentist, the others were well-placed politicians. The family, especially Gwen's father—Boss Sihida—expected more from her than just a seat on the municipal court, handling traffic violations and family squabbles.

  Boss had goaded Gwen into running for superior court and had been furious when she'd lost. Well, what did he expect? This might be paradise, but women weren't accepted the way they were on the mainland. The route to higher court was to be appointed—a sign that you were accepted by the establishment—then run as an incumbent. And pray you'd be elected.

  "You have the best record," Gwen said. "How many of your decisions have been overturned on appeal?"

  "A few." Very few actually, and she was proud of it. Cases criminal attorneys didn't win, they appealed, creating a legal log jam. "But the Tenaka case will be a black mark against me
."

  "That was three years ago, your first month on the bench."

  "And I received letters about it for a year." She cradled the phone against her shoulder and began arranging the files on her desk. "Just this morning I received a black rose with a note that said: I know what you did."

  "Kooks," Gwen said, and Dana imagined the dismissive wave of her gavel hand. "Judges are threatened all the time. Nothing usually comes of it."

  Dana wasn't sure she agreed; she found the dark side of the criminal mind frightening and unpredictable. The black rose and its note disturbed her, but she didn't voice her concerns, changing the subject instead.

  "Rob Tagett was in court today," Dana said. "When he gets wind of the vacancy he'll make dead certain the world remembers the Tenaka case."

  "Really? He was in your court?"

  Dana attributed Gwen's caustic tone to Rob. Gwen had gone out with him once, but then had the good sense not to see him anymore. She knew Rob Tagett would hurt her career. Dana admired Gwen's willpower. Women were drawn to Rob despite their better judgment.

  "Look, I've got to run," Gwen told her. "See you later."

  Dana hung up and glanced at the desk covered with probation reports, motions, and briefs. She should work through lunch if she hoped to clear her desk for her vacation, but she felt light-headed. Considering the pain medication she was taking for the wisdom teeth she'd had extracted yesterday, she decided she should eat something.

  Despite her throbbing tooth, she felt like waltzing on the ceiling. Superior court. Dare she hope? She might have a shot at it, if…

  If she hadn't been assigned the Tenaka case another judge might have tried it. Not hotshot Dana Hamilton. She'd looked at the DA's botched evidence and did what the letter of the law required her to do: She granted the defense's motion to dismiss charges against the child molester.

  The press, led by Rob Tagett, attacked her like starving pit bulls. Her achievements—a stellar record for someone so young—were forgotten in a barrage of negative press. That's why she hadn't called the police when she'd found the black rose and the note this morning. She'd had enough of the press to last a lifetime. Hopefully Gwen was right and this was just some kook who'd gotten his kicks.

  There were few people in the cafeteria when Dana walked in; most of the other courts were back in session. She slid her plastic tray along the guide rail and looked at the mound of spaghetti in a pool of grease. Airline food was haute cuisine compared to anything the court cafeteria served. She selected a cup of coffee and a prepackaged sandwich that claimed to be tuna fish.

  She found a table that was almost clean and sat with her back to the room. When she'd come in she'd spotted Rob Tagett with a group in the corner. She didn't even want to look at him.

  "Your Honor." The tone was light, mocking.

  She glanced up and saw Rob Tagett swinging a chair around backward. He sat opposite her, straddling the seat with his long legs, his arms resting casually across the back of the chair as he grinned at her.

  Tall and well-built, Rob had blue eyes that flickered with amusement—as if he got a kick out of life in general. Of course, his hair needed to be cut. What else was new? Thick and jet black, it dusted his collar and swept low across his brow, making him look younger than thirty-eight.

  There was something subtly sexy about Rob. Maybe it was his arresting smile. Or his limber athletic stride. Whatever it was, the female population—despite his questionable reputation—adored him.

  Even now one of the cute ADAs was scouring him with admiring glances.

  Dana knew better. Rob Tagett was trouble, and any woman who allowed herself to become involved with him deserved what she got.

  "Thrilled to see me, huh?" he asked with his familiar mix of Texas drawl and gall. "And here I walked all the way across the room to ask if you wanted to see my chicken."

  "Rob, don't unzip your pants. Your brains will fall out."

  "Thanks," he said with a grin that could have convinced the toughest jury that he'd just received a supreme compliment.

  "Look, I can't talk to you." She shoved the sandwich aside, her appetite gone. "You're covering my trial and the jury is out."

  "S'okay. I'm not covering the Fowl Flasher. I kinda like the guy, though. Not your ordinary wienie-wagger, but a flasher with flair."

  "Then why are you sitting in my court?"

  "Parker's bailing out. The booze finally got to him. You're up for his spot on the superior court."

  "Really?" She tried to sound surprised, but obviously missed the mark, because he winked at her. The only way she could lie was to rehearse over and over and over. She'd done it; she could rise to the occasion. This time she'd been caught off-guard. "How'd you find out?"

  He shrugged, his powerful shoulders stretching the cotton fabric of his polo shirt. "Jungle drums. You know how it is. I heard about it two days ago."

  She silently fumed; Gwen had found out only this morning, while Rob had known for days. No doubt he'd hopped in the sack with one of the secretaries. They always knew everything first.

  "I'm here to get a statement from you."

  "No comment." Did he really think she'd talk to him? Rob had a weekly column called "Exposed." It was devoted to controversial issues. He loved to blow the whistle on government waste and foul-ups. Just having your name appear in his column was the kiss of death.

  "You stand a good chance of getting appointed, you know." He leaned forward, balancing his weight on the back two chair legs. "I'd hate to lose you. Most of the other judges around here are so ugly they could haunt a house and charge by the room."

  She didn't acknowledge the backhanded compliment. She knew she was passable, but not pretty. Her sister, Vanessa, now there was pretty—beautiful, actually. It was a leap of faith to think they were even from the same gene pool.

  Ever mindful of the testosterone brigade who ran the judicial system, Dana strived for a professional appearance. Glasses instead of contacts made her look older, more like a judge, and kept her green eyes from appearing so large. Cutting her warm brown hair into a wedge that brushed her chin gave her a no-nonsense look. She dressed carefully, conservatively, in keeping with her position—except for her underwear. She adored lacy, feminine undies, the frillier the better.

  Now Rob's grin was positively wicked. "None of the other judges pulls their robes up to the tops of their thighs during a trial."

  "It was broiling—" She snapped her mouth shut, realizing he couldn't possibly have seen anything. The judge's bench was totally enclosed. But Rob was smart, too smart for his own darn good. "You're a real jerk, you know."

  "Let me get back to you on that." He winked at her again, then straightened, bringing his chair to rest on all four legs again. "I have tickets for the Eagles' concert—front row."

  Dana stifled a gasp. He wasn't asking her out, was he? Well, it didn't matter. Rob might be sexy and devastatingly masculine, the kind of man who made you dream about him at night, but she couldn't go out with him. The last thing her career needed right now—when she was up for that coveted spot on the bench—was to become involved with a cut-throat reporter.

  Oh, go on, Dana, admit it. It's more than the appointment that's keeping you from going out with Rob. Something about him frightened her. Maybe it was that he was unpredictable; maybe it was something more.

  She'd first met Rob at the cocktail party the DA threw to celebrate her appointment to the court three years earlier. She'd heard the ugly rumors about him, of course, but she didn't pay much attention to gossip. Still, she wondered why he'd left the police force so suddenly, then become a reporter. She'd been attracted to Rob and thought he'd liked her too. A week later he wrote the article that triggered a cry of public outrage that still echoed in her ears.

  "You interested in seeing the Eagles?" Rob repeated, his tone now serious.

  She picked up her purse and scooted her chair back from the table. "Thanks, but I'm busy."

  "I haven't even said which night yet.
"

  Oh, boy, he was going to press it. If she refused, was he going to crucify her in print? Again?

  "Still sore about that article I wrote?"

  "Of course not," she said a little too quickly. He wasn't fooled.

  "You hate me, don't you?"

  "Hate you? No. I like you. I've always gone for creeps."

  That evening when Dana drove behind Diamond Head to her home on Maunalua Bay, she was still cursing her sharp tongue. Really, what had gotten into her? She had walked away as soon as the words were out of her mouth, but not before she'd seen the look in Rob's eyes. He wouldn't forget the insult.

  What was wrong with her? She really must need this vacation. Lately she'd lost her temper much too easily. It's the pressure, she silently cried. No, it was more than that. It was the isolation.

  When she'd been in the DA's office she'd had lots of friends. Well, not friends exactly, just people to go out to lunch or dinner with. Now she couldn't see those lawyers and have them try cases in her court. Of course, some judges did, but it wasn't proper. Dana always did things by the book. She always had.

  She was too busy to be lonely, too ambitious to be lonely—or so she told herself. Once in a while something would trigger a wellspring of emptiness buried inside her like the secret life beneath the surface in the Wyland painting. Somehow, just seeing Rob made her lonely.

  He was nothing like the men she admired. The ideal man was intellectual. Sensitive. Safe. Everything Rob Tagett wasn't. Like a lone wolf, Rob had an elusiveness about him, a hint of risk and adventure. And danger.

  She slowed her car as she rounded the corner overlooking Maunalua Bay, catching her breath as she always did at its beauty. The sun had slipped behind Diamond Head, leaving the bay in a purple twilight and firing the clouds with amber and gold. On the point, cloaked in early evening shadows, was Koko Head. A smaller version of Diamond Head, the ancient volcano stood like a lonely sentinel guarding Maunalua Bay. To Dana, Koko Head was as majestic as Diamond Head, yet friendlier, the symbol of the back bay.