Running Hot by Jayne Ann Krentz Page A

now.

FIVE
    The concourse was crowded with tourists and business travelers from around the world. The planes landing and taking off on the runway bore the logos of nations from every part of the globe, including a few from countries that would have been unfamiliar to most people living outside the South Pacific. The warm, silken breeze carried the twin scents of jet fuel and the light mist that was sweeping down from the mountains.
    Luther lounged against the wall, his hand wrapped around the handle of the cane, and watched the dark-haired woman walking toward him. She had come into view at the far end of the walkway a couple of minutes ago. For some reason, he found his attention shifting back to her again and again.
    What the hell, he had a few minutes to kill. According to the monitors, Grace Renquist’s plane had landed on time a short while ago at the main terminal but it would take her a while to find her way to the interisland terminal. She was an elderly lady so she would probably wait for the Wiki-Wiki bus that connected the terminals rather than make the long hike along the concourse.
    The dark-haired woman disappeared behind a large tour group of senior citizens heavily draped in leis. Anticipation zinged through him while he waited for her to reappear. When she popped back into view she was closer, still coming his way. He could see her more distinctly now. She was pulling a carry-on suitcase with one hand. Her stride was lithe and purposeful and somehow sexy. A frisson of excitement hummed through his senses, all his senses. That hadn’t happened in longer than he cared to think about.
    Her hair was cut at a dramatic angle that started high at the nape of her neck and ended in two sweeping wings just below her cheek-bones. She had him riveted now but damned if he could figure out why. She was attractive in some indefinable, out-of-the-ordinary way but she was no glossy cover model; far from it. There was something proud and determined about the strong lines of her nose and jaw; a cool, touch-me-not attitude that radiated sexual challenge, at least to him. Dark glasses veiled her eyes. That was hardly unusual in Hawaii where everyone wore shades, but for some reason the glasses seemed to add to the air of exotic, sensual mystery that stirred the atmosphere around her.
    She must have just arrived from the mainland, he concluded; someplace where it had been raining probably because she wore a lightweight trench coat. Was he an ace detective or what? The coat was unbuttoned over a pair of dark pants and a classically cut shirt in a deep coppery color. The collar of the shirt was pulled up high and flared out a little, framing her throat and somehow subtly protecting it. A black leather handbag trimmed with bronze buckles was hooked over one straight shoulder. The hand that wasn’t wrapped around the handle of the suitcase was tucked into the pocket of the trench.
    He could not take his eyes off her. Maybe it was just him. No one else seemed to be paying any attention to the woman. This was a fine time for his long-dormant sexual appetite to wake up and go on the prowl. Life had been so peaceful since he’d sunk into his own private well of gloom. Maybe Wayne and Petra and Milly were right. Maybe he had been flirting with depression. But at least life had been calm.
    It had also been damned uninteresting.
    She was close enough now. He jacked up his senses. Light and dark inverted. Most of the people in the crowded concourse were instantly transformed into human glowworms, their auras flaring and pulsing in the usual hues and patterns that he had learned to associate with those who did not possess strong psychic talents.
    Power flared around the dark-haired woman, however. She stood out in the crowd like some incandescent butterfly surrounded by a swarm of pale, nondescript moths.
    She was a strong talent of some kind. That was probably what his senses were responding to. Even on the normal plane he had picked up