Jade Orchid Lovers

by Mei Silk

  Jade Orchid Lovers

  Mei Silk

  Copyright ©2017 by Mei Silk

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author/publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Thank you for buying Jade Orchid Lovers. I hope you enjoy it!

  If you have any questions or comments, please email me at meisilk2000@gmail.com, or contact me at meisilk.wordpress.com. You can also reach me on Facebook. I look forward to hearing from you!

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 1

  Sara Wang was floating on water and trying to do backstrokes with ease, but she couldn’t quite pull it off. The gorgeous lifeguard was watching her. It was a lifeguard’s duty to watch the swimmers, and there were other people in the pool, but Sara could feel his eyes on her.

  She’d moved back to LA a month ago, and she was pleased she had come back to the Y here in Monterey Park. She had come here often when she was a little girl, but the place looked very different now.

  The pool had been renovated. It was bigger and prettier than she remembered it being. The arched, stained glass windows reminded her that the building used to be a church. The old-fashioned wood ceilings with soft skylights and colorful swim gear piled in the corners, all brought back childhood memories. Coming here had always been the happiest event of the day. The Y had been her second home. Now it felt like she had returned home after a long and weary trip. She knew some of the people who worked here—Julia, the cleaning lady; Sam, the handyman; and Patricia, the Yoga instructor—they’d all worked here before. But that was about it. The others were strangers to her, including the handsome Latino lifeguard, who was at least six feet tall, and whose broad shoulders and muscular arms were blatantly seductive. Sara closed her eyes and imagined how it would feel to touch those arms. Her heartbeat increased and she stroked faster to escape her wild thoughts.

  Sara loved swimming. Swimming helped her forget all her stress and troubles. The minute she entered the pool, a sense of blissful calm washed over her. There was freedom in every stroke. Oh, how she had missed that feeling. It had been three years since her divorce from Bill, but she hadn’t been feeling free, not even when she was eight hundred miles away from him. Just a few nights ago, she had startled awake from a nightmare in which he was knocking on the door of her condo. That nightmare had been the deciding factor in coming back to the Y, hoping that physical activity would get rid of her accumulated anxiety. It would be teaching and swimming from now on, and on weekends, she would visit her dad, shop in Old Town Pasadena, learn to cook, and try some gardening in her little front yard . . .

  She hadn’t done any of those things in years. Throughout her marriage, she’d spent most of her free time at home with Bill. Bill, an obsessive scholar, was always working on some research paper. He never took her out, and he never allowed her to go out on her own. When they were first married, she’d brought up the subject of having children—she so desperately wanted children—but Bill told her flatly that he would rather produce a research paper than raise a child.

  In retrospect, it was good that she hadn’t had a child with an insane man, but a child—no, a dozen children—were all she wanted for her life. She loved children, which was why she would be volunteering at the local library over the weekends to tutor kids in basic math. She wanted so much to see her own children grow, to take them to the mountains, and to the beach. She wanted to watch them smelling roses and catching butterflies. She wanted to teach them how to swim in a backyard pool . . . Would that dream ever come true? She was nearly thirty-three, though she looked much younger and she had no shortage of admirers, but the shadow of her marriage still lingered in her mind. No, she didn’t want another man. She wouldn’t let another man control her life again.

  * * *

  Mateo found himself staring at the woman doing freestyle in the first lane. She was a great—no, superb—swimmer. Her earlier butterfly strokes were what had attracted his attention. It was the most difficult stroke, but she did it so effortlessly that it looked almost as if she was a butterfly fluttering above water. She was simply elegant. Her freestyle was also flawless. While her hand entered the water gracefully and smoothly, without splashing, her underwater movement was quick and decisive. With each stroke, she propelled twice as far as the man backstroking next to her. It was perfection, Mateo thought. Having been a lifeguard since high school, he had seen plenty of swimmers. It always amused him that every swimmer had a unique style for the same stroke. He could always recognize the swimmers by their strokes instead of what they were wearing: the way they turned their heads to breathe, the rhythm of their kicks, or the combination of it all.

  She was a newcomer, but he felt he had seen her before. When and where? Rose Bowl? He occasionally used the competition pool there, and he was acquainted with many professional swimmers. Perhaps she belonged to the masters swim team. She was definitely well trained. But she lacked the vigor and rigidity one often saw in a professional swimmer. She looked like she was skating in water, with her steady and unhurried rhythm. The patient lead hand, the perfect synchrony between strokes and kicks, and the smooth transition of each breath, were all signs of perfection. He walked towards her lane and stood by the window, looking closely at her, and noticed an extra gesture. It was the way that her hand brushed against her hip right before it was lifted from the water. It was sexy.

  Suddenly, long-hidden images flashed in his minds’ eye: the tall and skinny girl with a black ponytail, her long arms, her smooth skin, and her rusty red bathing suit. Yingying, his first swimming coach, had had the same habit of touching her hips before lifting her arms. The thought of Yingying aroused some melancholy in him. She was solely responsible for his love for swimming and the Y. Because of her, he’d practiced hard and gone to the Y after school every day, when his friends were watching TV or hanging out on the streets. Because of her, he had gotten the first prize in the boy’s competition. And because of her, he had decided to take over the Y when it was nearly bankrupt.

  “Yingying, where are you?” Mateo closed his eyes. He hadn’t seen her for more than fifteen years, and over the years her face had turned blurry although his feelings for her stayed the same. Could this woman be Yingying? His heartbeat quickened at the thought but he managed to tame it. That wish had possessed him over the years and it never came true. He knew from a friend of hers that she had gone to college somewhere in the north. He had hoped that she would return after four years, but she never did. And yet, he still couldn’t forget that summer before she left, that summer when she got mad at him at that camp because he had messed up her date. Being pretty and smart, she must have been married long ago.

  No this woman couldn’t be Yingying. Yingying was slender and tan. At least that was how he remembered her. Mateo sighed. He wouldn’t be able to recognize her even if Yingying stood in front of him r
ight now. He had to let her go. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. If he didn’t let her go, he would never be able to develop a long-term relationship with any woman.

  “Mateo, could you bring me a kickboard please?” A request from Bella, a woman who was doing water exercises, called him back to reality.

  “Sure.” Mateo nodded and went to the closet in the corner.

  “Thank you, sweetheart.” As she took the kickboard from him, Bella stroked his hand. Mateo wasn’t sure whether the touch was intentional.

  “No problem.” Mateo stepped back as soon as Bella took the kickboard.

  “Mateo, stay and talk to me please!” Bella blinked at him and flipped her curly blond hair.

  “What do you think of my perm? I had it done at a new place this morning.”

  “Very nice. Glamorous!” Mateo said after looking at her closely for a second.

  “Oh, you’re so sweet.”

  She had a thick layer of makeup on her face, and her mascara was smudged all around her eyes. A few months ago, he’d suggested that they implemented a no-makeup-in-the-pool rule, so the water wouldn’t be so cloudy after just one class, but the majority of the board was female, and they immediately rejected the idea.

  “Just a second,” Bella called him back as he again attempted to leave her. “Perhaps you can help me out with my pose. Tell me whether I’m doing it right.”

  She put her foot against the wall, bent her back and reached for her toes.

  “You’re okay,” Mateo said as he watched the woman stretch. “But make sure your legs and your back are straight.”

  “Like this?” Bella asked as she deliberately thrust her chest forward.

  Mateo averted his eyes the moment he caught sight of her cleavage over her low-cut swimsuit.

  “Yes, you’re doing it right,” he muttered and hurried away.

  Mateo was used to this kind of flirtation from the women who frequented the Y. At the previous board meeting, Laura, the CEO of the board, had told him that the “accident” rates had hit a record high the month after he had returned to lifeguard at the Y. Six near-drownings—all women—and all happened when he was on duty. While he was performing CPR on a seventy-five-year-old woman, she stuck her tongue into his mouth. He had almost fainted at that. But, according to Laura, those were just negligible downsides.

  “Just look at the figures,” she’d gushed as she showed him the monthly report. “Over a hundred new members, plus twenty returning ones, and a record-high enrollment for aquatic classes. My goodness, Mateo, you’re a genius!”

  Mateo had shrugged and Laura had gone on complimenting him on his interpersonal skills and customer service talents, although they both knew it was really just his looks that attracted all the women. He didn’t mind. If his presence made women enjoy swimming or water exercises more, why not?

  * * *

  “You have beautiful skin,” a woman in her fifties told Sara in the locker room. “What lotion do you use?”

  “Thank you.” Sara smiled. “I use jojoba oil.”

  “Really? I’ve heard about and I’ve seen it at Trader Joes, but never tried it. Does it smell like oil? Is it greasy?”

  “Not at all. It’s odorless and it’s extremely easy to absorb. I put it on my hair, too.” Sara pulled out a bottle from her gym bag. “Here, try it for yourself.”

  The woman took the bottle and put a drop on her palm. She smelled it and gingerly rubbed it over her arm.

  “Amazing!” she said. “I’m going to Trader Joes this afternoon! By the way, my name is Bella.”

  “Sara. Nice to meet you.”

  “Are you new here?”

  “In a way. I used to come here as a child, but that was a long time ago.”

  “I’ve been coming here for a year. I love swimming, but the chlorine damages my skin. I’ve asked them to switch to salt systems, but they say they’re too low on funds to switch everything over. I’m willing to pay extra for it every month, and it doesn’t really cost that much. We switched the system for our pool at home, and after the initial installation, our pool bill was almost cut in half. It’s so easy to maintain as well, and you don’t need to store chlorine.”

  “Why are you here if you have a pool at home?”

  “It’s much more fun to exercise with other people. And besides,” the woman lowered her voice, “I come to see Mateo.”

  “Mateo?”

  “The lifeguard. Isn’t he cute?”

  Realizing that she wasn’t the only one who fancied him, Sara felt foolish and she mumbled, “I didn’t notice it.”

  “You’ve missed so much!” The woman giggled. “It’s just as well. I’ve had my eye on him for a while. We wouldn’t want things to get catty between us, would we?”

  Sara looked at the woman curiously. Was she serious? She sounded like she was joking, but there was a menacing look in her eyes.

  “Okay.” Sara laughed uncomfortably. “He’s all yours. I have no interest in lifeguards.”

  Something in Sara’s tone must have offended Bella, because she glared at her and hissed, “Mateo is not just any lifeguard. He’s a successful entrepreneur. He owns San Gabriel Real Estate Management. And have you ever been to Valley Car Wash? That’s his, too.”

  “Wow, you know a lot about him,” Sara said, impressed by the Bella’s knowledge of the man.

  “Of course. He’s famous around here. He’s one of the Ten Successful Young Entrepreneurs chosen by the San Gabriel Tribune. And he’s generous. He donated a hundred thousand dollars to the Y last year, and now he’s chair of the board of directors. The CEO has to listen to him, so he practically owns the place. But to me he’s not the chair, or a wealthy businessman, but the prince of the Y. He’s sweet. He’s not here for money. He’s here because he loves the Y!”

  Bella’s passion impressed Sara. She could tell the woman was crazy about the lifeguard. As for the information about Mateo, Sara shrugged her shoulders. So he was fortune’s favorite. He chose to idle away his days in a lifeguard’s chair instead of a leather armchair in an office. Who knew what fun he found in lifeguarding? Maybe he liked seeing women in bathing suits. His hot gazes that had burned her skin earlier now sent a chill through her. He could be a pervert! Sara shuddered at the possibility as she gathered her things from her locker.

  * * *

  As Sara made her way to her white Corolla in the parking lot, the door of a silver BMW swung open. A young man in sunglasses dashed out and blocked her way. Her breath caught in her throat. It was not the first time a stranger approached her in a parking lot, but something about the young man, perhaps his sense of urgency, made her heart pound. She gripped her car keys tighter, the sharp point of her key sticking out between two of her fingers. She thought of possible strategies and deliberately walked on the other side of the path, as far from him as possible.

  “Excuse me!” he called just as she was passing him. He sounded friendly and Sara couldn’t help but turn to look at him.

  He was wearing a crisp, white shirt, grey trousers with sharp creases, and a pair of black leather shoes. He looked every inch the businessman. He was at least six feet tall, and the snug fit of his shirt revealed the contours of his shoulders and arms. His black hair was still damp from the shower. Sara became conscious of how fast her heart was beating. She gasped as he took off his sunglasses and smiled at her through his chocolate brown eyes.

  “You’re the lifeguard!” she blurted out. She instantly regretted it. That was a dead giveaway. It meant she had noticed him.

  “Yes. My name is Mateo,” he said with smile that took her breath away.

  It took Sara seconds before she could find a response. “Uh, I’m Sara.”

  “Pretty name. Nice to meet you, Sara.” His deep voice made Sara tremble. She wondered how old he was. He looked no more than twenty-five, too young for the successful entrepreneur being described by Bella.

  “Nice to meet you, too,” Sara said mechanically, and moved away from his direct and i
ntense gaze. “Shouldn’t you be at the pool?”

  “I’m done with my shift. I only work here a couple hours a day.”

  “Volunteer?” Sara waited for him to brag about his identity.

  But he avoided the topic. “Sort of. Listen, I just wanted to tell you how nice you swim. Your freestyle is flawless and your butterfly is professional. In fact, you’re the most gorgeous butterfly I’ve ever seen.”

  The most gorgeous butterfly? “Thank you. But I swim for relaxation only. How did you know it was me? I had my goggles and my cap on.”

  “I know.” He smiled mysteriously as he glanced at her legs below her skirt, and added, “I can tell by the shape of your legs.”

  Sara blushed. Without a second thought, she blurted out, “Is that why you volunteer? To look at women’s legs?”

  Mateo laughed. “Not at all. I usually work the afternoon shift, when the children are here. I’m also an instructor for the seniors’ aquatics class.”

  “I see.” She swallowed down the shame that crept up her throat at her previous comment.

  “Would you perhaps be interested in being a substitute teacher for our summer swim class? The class started last week but a coach was sent to work in the camp.”

  “Uh,” Sara considered. She had taught young children how to swim when she was a teenager. And she was planning to volunteer to work with children one way or another. But at this point of her life, with a new condo to set up and a new class to teach at a new college, she wasn’t sure whether she could handle anything extra.

  “It’s just two half-hour sessions a week.”

  So, it was really only an hour a week, Sara thought. She could do it. But she wouldn’t be hasty on her decision. “Let me think about it,” she said.

  “What’s there to think about? You’ll have fun working with kids. And I can tell you’ll be good at it. We pay our instructors twenty dollars per session, plus free membership. You can’t find such a deal anywhere else.”