by LETO, JULIE
For Max and Madelyn’s sake, Ariana was glad they’d learned their lesson before they’d taken their vows. She didn’t wish the heartbreak of divorce on anyone. And now that her hot shower seemed to have cleansed away any lingering and unnecessary guilt over her night with Max, Ariana knew she couldn’t let this opportunity pass. Max was a free agent. And most important, his interest in her matched the fascination she harbored for him.
Time to grab the fantasy while she could.
Living in Chinatown gave her the advantage of owning one of the most complete collections of silk clothing of any non-Asian woman she knew. She swept through her assortment of silky robes and satin pajamas until she found her favorite: a thick, pink satin robe piped in red and sporting a glorious gold dragon on the back. With care, she laid the robe across her pillows, collected the assortment of discarded clothes and socks and underthings her hectic schedule kept her from gathering throughout the week and tossed them into an overflowing hamper in the corner.
She tidied and straightened wearing nothing but the towel on her head, stopping dead when she heard Max’s voice from the other side of the thin curtain. His shoulder or hand must have rustled the beads, because they tinkled in the silence, adding a musical accompaniment to the thrill of hearing him so close while she was so exposed.
“Mrs. Li brought the tea,” he announced. She silently inched to the opening, marveling at the subtle change in the atmosphere as she neared him—the way her body reacted instinctively with a pulsing thrum. The man was potent. Potent and dangerous. Just what she needed for a weeklong fling.
“I’ll be right there,” she whispered, swallowing when the curtain rolled with his movement, brushing inward as he shifted his weight.
They stood silently, mere inches away. One of them had to move away first. But neither did, for a long, torturous minute. Then the ebony glass she’d strung from the archway chimed ever so slightly and the air lost a degree of thickness. She heard Max sigh as he settled back into the cushions of her couch.
She towel-dried her hair, unwilling to waste fifteen minutes with a blow-dryer, combed it out and twisted it up into a loose chignon secured with chopsticks. She applied a dusting of powder and blush to her face, along with a light application of liner and mascara. She used a heavier hand with her lipstick, choosing a brick color that brought out the lush shape of her lips and hinted, however subtly, of the ancient tradition of the Chinese concubine or Japanese geisha.
After spritzing her body with jasmine-scented cologne, she donned the robe and tied the sash with a snug but easily undoable knot. One glance in the mirror reminded her she was an attractive, alluring woman. And attractive, alluring women deserved to live out a fantasy or two, even if only for a week.
And to that end, she unzipped her backpack and retrieved the magazine. The photographs gave her a delicious idea, an inspired plan. And she suspected she wouldn’t need much to convince Max to join her.
When she emerged from her bedroom, Max was moving the tray from the credenza to the coffee table. With a shake and rattle, he dropped the tea the last inch.
“Wow.”
She twirled around, pausing with her back to him to model the dragon.
“You like?”
Her final half spin swirled the hem of the robe against her bare legs. She watched him swallow thickly and couldn’t believe that she’d once considered him standoffish. Uninterested in a woman like her. Untouchable and somewhat remote. The man now wore his desire with the same rumpled charm and sexy innuendo as his half-discarded tuxedo. She forced her triumphant grin into an understated smile, more than willing to take some of the credit for Max’s new attitude.
“What’s not to like?” he asked.
Snagging her bottom lip in her teeth, she bounced onto the cushions beside the couch with a barely checked energy—a revved mixture of sexual excitement and daring spirit. She slipped the magazine beneath a cushion. First things first.
“Well, let’s see. I seduced you on the night before your wedding. That might make a man a little annoyed.”
He slung his hands into his pockets and eyed her with an irresistible mix of amusement and disbelief. “I may not remember the details of last night, but I think it’s safe to assume we each did a fair and equal amount of seducing.”
“Yes,” she conceded, “but I was completely sober.”
He squatted so they were eye level. “That gives you the advantage of knowing precisely how great we were together. Of course, I’m assuming we were great together or you wouldn’t have invited me to your apartment and offered me tea.”
She grabbed the edge of the tray and pulled it forward, sliding onto the cushions that had fallen from the couch to the floor beside the table. “That’s a fair assumption. Does it bother you that you still can’t remember?”
With a tentative touch, he laid his hand over hers while she lined up the cups and saucers.
“Bothered isn’t the right word. It’s more like torture. You may not know this, but I’ve been attracted to you for a very long time. Since the first time I saw you.”
His hand disappeared beneath the gape in her sleeve, his fingers inching up and down her arm slowly, erotically.
“Really?” she asked with a gulp. “You never flirted or came on to me.”
He closed his eyes and grunted in frustration. “No, I didn’t. Just proves once again that when it comes to women, I’m a full-fledged idiot. In hindsight, that drug in my drink may have been the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
She laughed. “Even with the headache?”
He snorted. “That’s the least of my discomfort, Ariana.”
She pressed her lips together. The silken wet texture of her lipstick, coupled with the image of her smearing the brazen color on his mouth, emboldened her to the point of no return. “I have an idea that might alleviate your pain.”
From the way his emerald eyes darkened, enhancing the flecks of gold she hadn’t noticed until right this moment, she gathered he had a few ideas of his own.
He turned her hand palm up and swirled an erotic shape in the center with his fingertip. “I was thinking we drink our tea, relax, then go back to my house and wait until tonight. You could reconstruct the evening for me. Kiss by kiss.”
“I like the way you think,” she admitted, somewhat breathless at the suggestion. But while his idea brimmed with sensual promise, hers bordered on outrageous. Sinfully outrageous.
“But we didn’t kiss that much,” she finished.
“We didn’t?”
She shook her head and licked her lips, shocked that her mouth fairly vibrated with anticipation of his kisses.
“See? I obviously wasn’t myself. I’ve spent more hours than I’d care to admit fantasizing about doing nothing more than kiss you.”
The flattery pushed her further. “Nothing more?” she challenged, certain that a grown man like Max would never settle for just kissing. And why should he, when touching and caressing and exploring and mating were so incredible?
“Well, maybe a little more. But only after a lot of kissing.”
She nodded and poured the tea into one tiny cup, then the other. The spiced scents of ginger and clove flared her nostrils instantly. This was Madame Li’s most potent tea, a mixture of herbs and spices and secrets handed down from generation to generation.
“Smells strong,” he commented as she slid the cup over to him. He settled more comfortably into the cushions, folding his legs to his side rather than attempt to squash them beneath the low table.
“Oh, it is. She brewed this tea for me once, a long time ago. It’ll clear your head.”
He started to lift the cup, but she stopped him by laying her hand on his wrist. “Don’t rush.”
Chuckling, he removed his fingers from the cup. “What? Is there a tea ceremony for alleviating hangovers?”
She plucked the top off a small china pot, allowing a stream of amber honey to drizzle from the imbedded spoon. When the rivulet thin
ned to a golden thread, she flicked her finger across, breaking the string momentarily.
She slipped her finger into her mouth and sucked away the sweetness. “We could make up our own ceremony.”
Ariana dipped the top back into the pot, then lifted the honeycomb-shaped end again, dripping sweetener into his tea.
“A little sweetness and a little spice?” she offered.
He hummed, then silently watched as she added honey to her own tea. She removed the cups from the tray and slid it out of the way, positioning his tea in front of him and drawing hers closer. Folding her legs completely beneath her, she pulled up on her knees. He mirrored her position, directly across from her.
“Close your eyes,” she instructed.
He did so without hesitation.
Her heart swelled. Gotta love a man who takes orders.
“Now, lift your cup to your mouth, but don’t drink.”
He peeked long enough to make sure he didn’t spill the piping-hot contents and brought the porcelain to his lips. The cup was so white against his tanned, rugged skin. So delicate in hands that Ariana knew could be demanding and rough in the most wonderful ways.
“Take a deep breath.”
His chest lifted as he complied then stilled while he held the scent of the tea in his lungs for a long instant.
“The smell alone can clear the brain,” he said.
“Wait until you taste it.”
He interpreted her comment as an invitation to drink, but she stopped him again with a gentle, “Not yet. Put your tea down.”
His eyes remained closed, but he followed her directions, this time without peeking. He adeptly set the cup on its saucer. The corners of his mouth twitched. He wanted to smile, but was valiantly fighting the urge, causing Ariana to grin from ear to ear.
“Lean forward.”
He did so as she drank from her own teacup. When the liquid had heated her mouth, she leaned forward to meet him halfway across the table, swallowing when their lips touched, then parted. The taste of the tea flowed from her tongue to his, filling their kiss with the delicious flavor of exotic desire.
When his hands touched her sleeves, she broke the kiss but didn’t back away. Their noses brushed as his eyes sprung open.
“Can’t I touch you?”
“Kiss me first.”
“Can’t I do both?”
“You could, but that would be rather…ordinary. Expected. Don’t you think?”
He inched back just far enough to study her face. The taste of the tea and the heat of his mouth filled her with the courage to see her fantasy through. She had one week of freedom, as he did. Why fill it with an ordinary affair when they could have a sensual and special liaison? A touch of imagination? A dose of risk? Like in the magazine. Like in the dozens of daring ideas dancing in her head whenever she thought of Max.
“You want the unexpected?” he asked.
“Think about it, Max. When’s the last time you really let yourself go? Grabbed the excitement of life and didn’t worry about how your adventures would affect your work or responsibilities?”
He shook his head, tilting his face downward so she nearly missed the regretful look that twisted his features.
“That sounds like my brother, not me. Ford is a drifter. He goes where the excitement is, whenever the mood takes him.”
“You say that with envy in your voice.”
“You think?”
“I’m calling it like I see it. You and I have a bit in common. Both of us have a very clear picture of what we want from life.”
“Crystal,” he added with emphasis.
“And we’ve both sacrificed a lot, from a very early age, to get where we want to be. I mean, I left my family on the other side of the country and I work long hard hours every day of the week, but I’m this close—” she pinched her fingers together “—to reopening Athens by the Bay and making it a real force in the restaurant world. That’s what I want—a business that’s mine, that people talk about, that they travel to San Francisco just to visit.”
“That’s a big dream,” he said, but not a single syllable suggested that he thought she couldn’t make her dream come true.
“Yeah,” she said proudly, “but I almost have it. And you know what? It’s not always enough.”
Max’s tongue still tingled from the united tastes of spiced tea and Ariana, and his mind reeled as she made admissions that seemed to come straight from his own heart—from the part he routinely ignored so he wouldn’t have to face how empty and predictable his life had become.
“Not always,” he agreed.
“Well—” she scooted forward, cradling the teacup in her hands “—imagine we both had a chance to grab some excitement, really drink life. And in the end, there’d be no consequences, no repercussions except a collection of amazing memories.”
“Sounds too good to be true.”
“I don’t think so. I think it sounds too good to pass up. Come on, Max. Have an adventure with me. What do you say?”
8
GOT ’EM.
Leo swung past the dingy narrow alleyway a second time, this time slowing enough to read the license plate. This was too easy. He’d nearly lost them when Forrester doubled back to Chinatown, but despite his employer’s low opinion of him, he wasn’t stupid enough to blow a second chance at a rather hefty amount of untraceable cash.
Hell, he’d pocketed a cool five hundred just for some misty photos of assorted body parts flailing in the fog. He clucked his tongue as he scanned for a parking place, wondering what the hell the old man was going to do with such screwed-up pictures. But what did he care? He had a wad of twenties in his pocket and a chance to make a hell of a lot more.
He waited for a carload of tourists to pull away from the curb and took their spot. With binoculars, he surveyed the uneven row of old buildings across the street and half a block down. A gift shop. A tea shop. T-shirts. Two restaurants. Cameras for sale.
Luckily, he already knew where Ariana Karas lived. Trading his binoculars for his camera, complete with a telephoto lens, he trained his view to the third floor above Mrs. Lin Li’s establishment and snickered. Madame Li might be selling rare herbs and unique tea blends out the front door, but upstairs? Her boarder was selling something entirely more choice. He only wished he’d have a chance at some. But he’d made that offer only to crash and burn. He’d have to settle for the cash.
Red curtains fluttered from open windows.
They were there, all right. And he was going to get them. Mr. Thien Wong owned the porcelain shop across from Mrs. Li. And upstairs, Wong also rented rooms. He hadn’t had any vacancies for a long time, but luckily for Leo, his young nephew, Ty, who lived in the room facing the street, facing her apartment, loved easy money just as much as he did.
And it wasn’t hard to share when more was on the way.
“I SAY, YEAH.”
Judging by the widening of her fathomless black eyes and a grin that ever so slowly bowed those luscious lips of hers into a burgundy smile, Max had answered her proposal faster than she expected. The dark lipstick did wondrously erotic things to her mouth, but he still could hardly wait to kiss off all that color.
“Really?” she asked.
“You seem surprised.”
“No. Well, yeah, I guess I am. A little.”
He shook his head, wondering how the hell she hadn’t known how attracted, how enthralled he’d been with her from the first moment they’d met. Max had no idea his self-control and cool demeanor were so effective. Well, he’d certainly need neither of them over the next seven days.
“Good,” he said with a grin. “It’s not often that I surprise people, except in business. I’m a fairly predictable guy outside the office.” He slid the honeypot to his side of the table, lifting the top to slowly swirl the golden contents. He had lots of unpredictable, incredibly surprising ideas about where he’d like to spread the sweet, sticky substance. Places he’d like to lick for the long spans of
time required to remove the honey from her sweet skin. “But surprises are good, right? That’s what you meant? One week of…”
“…Anything goes?” She reached across the table and dipped her finger in the pot, extracting a stream of honey that drew a thin path across the table leading to her. She dipped her fingertip in her hot tea briefly, then sucked the melting sweetness away, flashing him a devilish grin.
“Anything goes…I like that,” he answered.
Her smile bloomed with some secret meaning. He questioned her with a curious glance.
“You said those exact words to me last night,” she explained, untangling the long silk robe from around her legs. She fanned the material behind her, exposing her bare knees and thighs.
The warm scents of clove and ginger wafted from the teapot, calming him so he could tap into his practiced restraint. The honey would be good. Later. Mrs. Li had mixed a potent blend he longed to taste, especially when served in the warmth of Ari’s kiss. “I said that? Doesn’t sound like me.”
“Maybe you do have inhibitions that need loosening,” she suggested, drawing from an earlier conversation he did recall.
“I know I do. I’m all the things you said I am, Ari. Driven. Single-minded.” The smile dropped away from his mouth when he admitted, “I can’t make any promises to you beyond this week.” He had to be sure she understood. Now that Maddie was on her own, the last thing he wanted to do was drag another woman into the craziness that was his life. Max knew he could afford only a brief respite from who he really was—a man who refused to forget what it felt like to be poor and helpless. Or from what he really wanted—the stability only an overflowing bank account and the respect and trust of his colleagues could ensure. Like Maddie, Ariana didn’t deserve to be weighted or dragged down by his pursuit of true success.
She didn’t deserve his late-night meetings, long phone calls or Sundays at the office. Women like her deserved pampering, attention and damn good loving. At least for the week, he could give her that—and receive the same in return.