by C. C. Gibbs
Sliding the chiffon dress off the hanger, she slipped it over her head and let the silky fabric swish down her body. Gazing at her image in a floor-length mirror, one of Whistler’s paintings of a gauzily dressed female sprang to mind. The flowered print, the sheer fabric, the pale, cream background was, with the exception of its short length – very much like those dresses in a Whistler painting. Although the tomato-red ribbon at the waist was a vivid touch of creative whimsy on Greta’s part. After tying the silk taffeta into a floppy bow, she briefly admired her handiwork before considering shoes. Naturally, there were silk, sling-back heels in tomato red. You could see how Dominic Knight could manage every detail of a global empire.
For a fleeting second, she wondered if this fantasy would evaporate at the stroke of midnight. Would Dominic Knight disappear in a puff of smoke and she’d discover that this was all just a dream?
A clock on the dresser suddenly chimed, reminding her that she actually was at the Ritz-Carlton, Hong Kong. And, she noted, checking the time, she still had a half-hour to do some exploring of the club floor. A date with Dominic Knight was a memorable occasion; she wanted all the little details etched on her memory.
Five minutes later, her tour complete, she discovered that with the exception of the concierge and bartender, she was alone. Stopping before a beautiful young Asian woman behind the concierge’s desk, Kate smiled. ‘The view’s absolutely stunning up here. You must hear that a lot.’
‘I do. But it is stunning, I agree. We have the distinction of being the world’s highest hotel.’ She arched her perfect, black brows. ‘May I help you with anything?’
‘No, I was just looking around. Is it always so quiet this time of night?’
‘Not always. It depends on the guests in residence.’ The concierge smiled politely. ‘Would you like a drink? Po makes a lovely Earl Grey martini rimmed with sugar and salt and infused with orange. He says it’s a perfect way to regain focus. Come,’ she added, rising from her chair. ‘Let me introduce you to Po.’
A few minutes later, Kate was seated at the bar, sipping one of the most delicious martinis she’d ever tasted. Not that she was a connoisseur with her drinking. Her experience was primarily limited to college haunts and pitchers of beer, but she was definitely broadening her horizons in a really satisfying way.
Po, the young bartender, brought over a plate of exquisite hors d’oeuvres, an embroidered linen napkin and a finger bowl. She was impressed and told him so.
‘The Ritz-Carlton prides itself on its service,’ he smiled. ‘Enjoy.’
It turned out that he was a native of Hong Kong and when Kate began asking questions, he recounted some of the history of the city, described the major tourist sights, acquainted her with the best restaurants on the islands as well as pointing out some of the tamer night-time attractions. He also knew the more licentious establishments too, places Dominic patronized, but he purposefully kept his mouth shut about all that.
Every bartender in the city augmented their salary by selling information to the tabloids because gossip, along with money and food, fuelled Hong Kong. Naturally, Po was curious why a rich gweilo like Dominic Knight had chosen to stay at the Ritz-Carlton with this pretty young lady who wasn’t a working girl. The billionaire had a home on The Peak. Why hadn’t he taken her there?
‘Have you known Mr Knight long?’ Po casually inquired.
Kate shook her head. ‘I’m just working on a project for him. Was,’ she added with a smile. ‘I’ll be going home soon.’ To his polite query, she explained where home was, described northern Minnesota in broad strokes and finished her drink only to find another being slid toward her. ‘I shouldn’t. We’re going out to dinner.’
‘I made it weak.’
‘What time is it?’ A question looking for an excuse. Maybe it was the drink or the two glasses of champagne or the fact that the privileged set knew how to relax, but it was truly like sitting in the clouds up here – calm, peaceful, the lights of the city twinkling and sparkling across the harbour.
‘Seven fifty. Emmie will tell him you’re here. Have you seen The Peak yet?’ The bartender was curious whether this young lady knew about Dominic’s house. ‘It’s one of the most high-end real-estate areas on earth. In fact, the most expensive residential site in the world sold last week for $231 million.’
‘No, I haven’t. It sounds posh.’
She didn’t know. ‘There’s no restrictions on who buys here,’ Po explained. ‘Hong Kong is the freest market in the world. We have lots of foreigners like Mr Knight buying property here.’
She stared at him for a moment, unable to keep the surprise out of her voice. ‘He has a place here?’
The bartender shrugged.
‘And you’re wondering why he’s staying here?’ It was her turn to shrug. ‘Sorry, I don’t know. Or for that matter, care. Now why don’t you tell me something. Why is it so quiet up here? Where are the other guests?’
‘There aren’t any.’ And the ones that had been here had been herded out at Mr Knight’s request. ‘You didn’t hear it from me.’
She lifted one brow. ‘Or you won’t get a tip?’
‘I already got one.’ And he expected more since Mr Knight had reserved the floor for a week.
‘Wow. Do you see many people like him here?’
‘Some. This is the financial centre of Asia.’
‘There you are,’ a familiar voice said. ‘I’ll have one of those too.’ Dominic pointed at Kate’s glass as he slid onto the barstool next to her. ‘This view is on a lot of bucket lists,’ he remarked, running his hands over his wet hair and flicking it behind his ears.
‘I can see why,’ Kate replied, determined to come across as casual as he did. ‘It’s breathtaking.’
‘I could say the same about you,’ he said with a smile, his gaze raking her from head to toe. ‘And I like the dress too.’
‘You don’t look too bad yourself.’ A vast understatement for a man who could silence a room with his stark beauty. A man who apparently didn’t spend too much time worrying about his looks if that was the extent of his grooming: shower, shave, dress, run your hands over your wet hair.
She began to wonder if he didn’t wear cologne, if that musky fragrance was his own personal animal scent. ‘Do you wear cologne?’ she blurted out.
Even the bartender turned around at the weirdness in her voice.
‘I mean,’ she quickly said, trying to do calm and collected, ‘it seems like a familiar scent. Or is it one of those personal fragrances distilled for you?’
Dominic smiled. ‘It must be the shampoo. I don’t wear cologne.’
‘Oh,’ she said, because her mind was blank with the exception of the words ‘animal scent’, which she had no intention of discussing. And rather than stammer on under that amused gaze, she picked up her drink and downed it.
The bartender began to move, Dominic gave him a look that stopped him. ‘You better pace yourself, Miss Hart,’ Dominic said, pleasantly. ‘Or you won’t remember dinner.’
‘I never get drunk.’
‘A shame,’ he said.
She looked up at his tone.
He smiled. ‘I thought we were going to have fun tonight.’
Ohmygod, could she freeze this moment in time? The sinful look in his eyes, the heart-stopping smile on his gorgeous mouth, that little lift of his brows that was hotter than hell.
But before she could answer, before whatever she was about to say appeared in the gossip columns tomorrow, Dominic turned to the bartender. ‘Would you call down and see if our car is here?’
As the man walked away, Dominic leaned in close and whispered, ‘I am so fucking hard.’
She looked down, his erection huge, the fly of his trousers strained to the max. Her breath caught, her body opened in undisguised welcome and she was about to impulsively blurt out ‘Let’s skip dinner.’
But he spoke first. ‘So don’t get too close, Miss Hart. We have reservations. And I’m hungry.’
Wide-eyed, she whispered, ‘Can you just stop everything like that?’
He held her gaze. ‘I can do anything, Miss Hart.’ His voice took on a raspy edge. ‘I’ll show you later.’ Then he tossed a few bills on the bar for Po, stood and with complete nonchalance as though he’d not just spoken in a rough, harsh tone, flicked his hand towards the elevators. ‘Shall we? The car’s waiting.’
He described the restaurant and its reputation as they walked to the elevator, the conversation one-sided with Kate trying to suppress her all-consuming desire. She was still trembling slightly when the elevator began its descent.
He stood across from her, humming softly. He glanced at her. ‘I’m in the mood for steak. What about you?’
‘Don’t talk to me,’ she breathed, trying to get a grip on her frenzied nerves, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.
‘Think of something else. You’ll relax.’
‘We aren’t all automatons,’ she said with a little sniff.
‘I know. That’s one of the things I like about you. Your spontaneity.’
She shot him a harried look. ‘While your world view is pure logic.’
‘Maybe you could reform me.’ He smiled as the elevator doors opened. ‘Would you like to try?’ He held out his hand.
‘I can’t think of a more hopeless project. And I’m not touching you.’
His hand dropped. ‘You first, Miss Hart.’ He held open the door for her and as she passed by, gave her a sunny smile. ‘Maybe you could look on me as one of those puzzles you like to solve. Max says you like the complicated ones.’
‘I don’t see myself in a therapist’s role,’ she said over her shoulder.
He caught up to her in two strides, swung in front of her, came to a stop and took a quick step back so she didn’t run into him. ‘What role were you considering?’ he lazily asked, his gaze resting for a moment on the neckline of her dress.
‘I thought you were hungry.’
‘It can wait. I’m curious. Do you like to play games?’
‘I don’t know. Do you?’
‘That’s what I do. You haven’t played before? Would you like to?’
There was a splintering silence while she debated how to answer and he debated what he’d do if she answered one way or the other.
‘You’re the kind of man who might leave scars,’ she said a moment later, her voice deliberate as though clarifying her position not just to him but to herself. ‘But you’re also the kind of man who might end up leaving a tattoo on my sex life that I’ll enjoy looking at later. Something between hearts and flowers and your blood type inked into my psyche. You hit me that hard. So give me a little time. It’s complicated.’
‘Complicated is better. More intense.’ Then he smiled almost shyly, although it was still a lion’s smile. ‘Maybe I’ll give you a rose tattoo. Something dew-fresh like you.’
‘Maybe you won’t give me anything. I still haven’t made up my mind. I’m not sure I’m looking for trouble.’
He laughed. ‘And I’m trouble. Fair enough, Miss Hart. I won’t argue about that.’ He dipped his head, so their eyes were level. ‘I like your honesty. Take your time. I won’t rush you.’
‘You couldn’t anyway.’
He lifted his head and smiled. ‘I’m sure you’re right,’ he politely said, not about to discuss what he could do or could not do. ‘Now let’s get out of here.’
CHAPTER 8
After they exited the hotel, Dominic abruptly stopped and gazed at Kate with a slight frown. ‘You’re going to be cold.’ The air had a bite to it, the wind off the harbour chill; Hong Kong in January required a jacket. ‘Come, we’ll get you in the car.’
Once Kate was seated, Dominic leaned in. ‘I’ll be right back.’ He shut the door and sprinted back inside the hotel. Minutes later he returned, a white cashmere shawl draped over his arm. ‘She said white goes with everything.’ He tossed the shawl to Kate as he entered the car. ‘I should have thought of it before.’ He signalled the driver and the car pulled away from the hotel entrance.
‘No you shouldn’t have. Here.’ She held out the shawl. ‘I keep saying no, and you keep ignoring me.’
‘I don’t like hearing no,’ he said, like it was the most reasonable statement in the world. ‘And why should you be cold tonight? It doesn’t make sense.’
His gaze was dead serious. ‘I suppose.’ She let her hand drop. ‘Still.’
‘Still, nothing.’ He gave her a nod. ‘Put it on. It cost a few bucks. Don’t make a federal case out of it.’
‘I’m still trying to deal with these clothes,’ she said, plucking at her skirt, ‘what it says about me.’
‘You’re taking this too seriously. There’s nothing to deal with. Wear them or don’t wear them, give them away. I’m sure some charity will take them.’
‘You gotta be kidding.’
‘Not in the least. If they make you unhappy don’t wear them, although,’ he said, his gaze sliding down her body, ‘you look beautiful in every one of Greta’s designs. So if I get a vote, keep them. Now put this on.’ He took the shawl from her lap, said, ‘Sit up,’ wrapped it around her shoulders and dropped back against the seat with a grin. ‘Why don’t we wait until we’re really drunk before we fight. It’ll be more interesting.’
‘Or maybe it’ll just be more violent.’
A wicked smile. ‘Now I’m really hopeful.’
Oh lord, that sexy smile and treacherous murmur zeroed in on her clit like a heat-seeking missile, detonated, and sucked the air from the car, from the universe. She tried not to let him hear her gasp, tried not to squirm – and failed miserably.
‘You OK?’
Another one of those I’ll-take-you-to-the-moon smiles, damn him. He knew exactly what he was doing to her and probably to every other woman who came within his sexual force field. ‘I’m good,’ she choked, forcing herself to think about glaciers or lake ice or snow.
‘If you need anything, let me know.’
The low, husky tenor of his voice was like silk on her skin. ‘Nothing right now, thanks,’ she said firmly. Call her bitchy or maybe competitive, but she didn’t want to be so fucking available. He had it too easy with women. ‘And we’re not done talking about these clothes,’ she added, wanting to change the subject, put a curb on her libido. ‘You can’t always have your own way.’
‘I know how to compromise,’ he said mildly, having watched with admiration as she’d brought herself under control. She wasn’t the only one who liked complicated puzzles. She might be naive, but she had a self-confident wilfulness that intrigued him.
Kate snorted. ‘Remember, I just saw you in action in Singapore.’
‘They were stealing my money. Why should I compromise?’
‘The question is – do you ever compromise?’
He tipped his head faintly in her direction. ‘Are we still talking about the clothes?’
‘No. We’re talking about you rolling over anyone who gets in your way.’
He grinned. ‘May I roll over you? Later? Right now, I’m starved.’
She gave him a jaundiced look. ‘Such smug arrogance. Do women like that?’
‘Women like me, Miss Hart, because I have a helluva lot of money. Ah, here we are.’ He unfurled from his lounging pose.
The car came to a stop near a quay where a sleek cruiser, obviously Dominic’s now that she knew he had a home here, was moored. They were shown into a warm cabin where a steward offered them drinks. Kate shook her head, Dominic said, ‘A single malt,’ and soon they were speeding across the harbour to Hong Kong Island where another car was waiting.
They were driven to the China Club, a members-only oasis taking up the top three floors of the old Bank of China building in Hong Kong’s Central district. ‘We’ll cab to Cépage from here,’ Dominic explained to the driver. ‘Meet us there.’
The club interior was colonial 1930s Shanghai teahouse decor with elegant ceiling fans, rotary phones, art deco architec
tural touches, an extensive art collection and a dress code. Informal here meant a suit and tie.
Since the handover of the territory from the British to the Chinese in 1997, fewer white men were members. But Dominic was ushered in with his usual deference because he was a member and even if he hadn’t been, men like Dominic Knight were always welcome everywhere. Even without a tie.
An attendant showed them into the small, cosy library, empty of guests.
‘Would you prefer champagne or drinks?’ Dominic asked as he ushered Kate to a fawn-leather club chair. ‘The cellar is excellent here.’
A small, irresolute pause. ‘You decide.’
Dominic gave her a teasing look as he dropped into an adjacent chair. ‘Feeling out of your element, Miss Hart?’
‘Am I not allowed?’ she testily retorted.
‘Ah, that’s better. Compliance doesn’t suit you.’
‘I didn’t think you even knew the word.’
He grinned. ‘It depends on how it’s being used.’
She shot a quick look at the waiting attendant.
‘They don’t listen,’ Dominic said.
‘Of course they do and if they’re lucky, they get paid for the information they put on the net. I believe you already figure largely on one of those sites.’
‘Not anymore.’
A spiking glance. ‘You shut it down?’
‘I didn’t personally, but someone in my organization did.’
‘Maybe I shouldn’t drink at all or I might be on YouTube tomorrow.’
‘The site you referred to was shut down with a good deal of money as an inducement. Along with a threat. So rest easy, you won’t be on YouTube. I promise.’
‘That was really you? It wasn’t photoshopped.’
‘No.’
‘No, it wasn’t you or no it wasn’t photoshopped?’
He smiled faintly. ‘No, it wasn’t photoshopped.’
‘Obviously, that doesn’t bother you.’
‘No, but since it bothered you, I had it taken down.’
‘You didn’t have to do that for me.’
‘I got the impression I should. If you want to know something about what you saw, just ask.’ He glanced at the young man standing at attention. ‘A Krug Clos d’Ambonnay ’96 and two plates of tea-soaked shrimp. There now,’ he said as the attendant walked away. ‘What do you want to know?’