CHAPTER
White sand extended wide up from the sapphire
Pacific. Jacob Bolt lay flat and sacrificial on the
warm grains in a deserted， scimitar-shaped cove
sheltered by fragrant frangipani and bougainvillea.
His tired body soaked up the heat from the shim-
mering sand and sun. Near his feet the surf roiled
and crashed. In the emerald foliage behind him
birds sang and fluffed rainbow feathers. Above him
.~e balmy May trade winds rustled through palm
fronds.
\"A white hibiscus，\" Tami said beside him.
\"Kokio keokeo， white-white. Sorry， I don t have a
lily.\"
Bolt felt the hibiscus land on his naked chest，
light and scratchy. She meant a death lily， and that
he exuded the vitality of a corpse. He grinned. His
eyes remained closed beneath his Rayban sun-
glasses. God， he was tired.
\"Is that a hint?\" he said dryly.
Bolt saw her in his mind. Midtwenties， tiny
and slender， high tight breasts beneath the string
bikini top. Her name was Tami Tanaka and she
was Hawaiian-Japanese， maybe with a touch of
Caucasian and Filipino. She was beautiful in that
moist， allover golden glow that came from the
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