by Mei Silk
As if they had heard her thoughts, the lips slowly moved closer and closer. She could feel the burning heat between them. She knew she should pull away, but she couldn’t. When Mateo’s masculine scent entered her nostrils, she regained her senses and hurriedly pulled away.
Taking a deep breath, she joked, “Does that mean I’ll have to keep volunteering at the Y?”
“You bet,” Mateo said, still looking at her and now breathing heavily. He threw his arm over her shoulder and pulled her closer into him.
* * *
The minute he’d pulled her closer into him, Mateo had felt Sara tense up, but he didn’t want to let her go. He had wanted to hold her the moment she opened the door for him in her house. That butterfly t-shirt was so sexy on her. It was simple and yet it showed the curves of her full breasts and her slender waist. Besides, he knew she wanted him to hold her. The soft, mellow look in her eyes when she faced him a moment ago told him that. No man in his right mind could resist that invitation. He only wished he hadn’t hesitated earlier, otherwise, he would be tasting those sweet lips at this moment . . . he stopped his wild thoughts. Sara wasn’t the kind of woman who would kiss a guy on their first date. She was different. She would try his patience and he was willing for the trial.
Their reserved room was upstairs. Dressed in Chinese traditional Qipao, Carol, their waitress, showed them to a room called Plum. The room was decorated with artificial plum bonsais and paintings of plum flowers. Carol opened the curtains behind the window as soon as they went in. Through the intricate carved window frame, they could see the night view of Pasadena, including the neon AT&T sign.
“How surreal!” Sara said and shook her head, “I’m not sure where I am anymore. China or America?”
“A neighbor of ours used to say that we lived in Amexica. I guess you can say you live in Chimerica?”
“Chimerica, that’s a good one,” Sara laughed, “although, it sounds like some monster.”
Mateo ordered egg rolls for appetizers and said they were better than those made by his mother.
“Your mother knows how to make egg rolls?”
“Yes. She’s Chinese, but she grew up in Venezuela. And this is the only Chinese food she knows how to cook, besides steamed rice. You know why? Because they are similar to tacuchos, or Venezuelan burritos.”
Sara laughed. “My friends from middle school actually called them Chinese burritos. So, your mom’s Chinese? That’s why you have Asian features.”
“Like what?” he asked her playfully.
She glanced at him for a moment and said, “Well, your narrow eyes and your broad cheekbones.”
Sara stopped, her eyes scanning over his face as she studied him.
“Thanks.” Mateo chuckled. “You’re the only person besides my mom who says that. People usually say that I look more white than Latino.”
“That’s not true,” Sara continued, “Your eyebrows are dense and your brow-ridge is high. Your nose isn’t big but pretty straight, and your lips are…solid.” Sara turned away abruptly, fiddling with her napkin.
Mateo caught the blush on her face before she looked away. Was she as interested in his lips as he was in hers? What happened earlier in the garden undoubtedly suggested the possibility. Women had always commented on his lips, but no one had described them as solid. Was she thinking about some geometric object? If by solid she meant firm, then hers was definitely liquid. The moist, creamy texture was perhaps due to her lipstick. But the shape of it, round, plump and slightly pouting, looked so inviting. Again, he imagined what sweet fountains he would encounter if he was admitted in between them. What was he doing here? Sitting and waiting for some dumplings? What he should do was take her back to the garden and kiss her until her lips remembered his.
What was happening to him? This was not the first time he had dinner with a girl. It was not even a date. It was just a thank-you dinner. He had gone out with numerous gorgeous women since college, and many of them had tried deliberately to seduce him. But he had never been as turned on as he was now. Sara wasn’t even dressed in anything revealing, but everything about her was sexy to him. Her hair was loosely put up, with a few strands falling by her ears. He was so agitated that he had to clench his fist so he wouldn’t reach out to smooth her hair.
Fortunately, Carol brought their appetizers before he acted on his urges.
* * *
The first main course that arrived was braised ham in honey sauce, a traditional Shanghai dish. The sight of it was mouth-watering. The reddish brown ham was sliced in squares, with a thin strip of fat on, soaked in a glossy, honey sauce.
“Mmm!” Sara moaned as soon as she felt the soft texture of the meat. She practically swallowed it without chewing it. “It’s so good. It melts on your tongue!”
Mateo agreed and gave Carol a thumbs-up, and she left with a satisfying smile.
Soon the other dishes arrived as well, including the crystal shrimp, sweet and sour ribs, and the boiled chicken. Even though the portions weren’t that big, Sara was stuffed. But Mateo insisted she should try the dessert that was a house special: brown sugar stuffed buns for dessert, a sweet version of the soup buns.
“Be careful. They’re hot,” Carol warned them as she brought the steamed buns in a bamboo container. “Better wait for a minute or so. But don’t wait too long, otherwise they’ll get soggy.”
As they waited, Sara asked Mateo whether he had ever been to China or Venezuela.
“No.” Mateo shook his head. “But I want to go to both countries. When I was a kid, my mother was busy and we were poor. Now we’ve got the money but I can’t afford to leave my business behind for long. But if I ever get to go, it would probably be Venezuela, because it’s the place that my parents are from. My mom, although she hates it there, still misses her family.”
“Has she ever gone back?”
“Never.”
Sara wanted to ask why, but Mateo told her that the buns were probably ready to eat and told her to pick one.
Sara picked a bun the size of a ping-pong ball and bit carefully into it, knowing that the juice inside could be tricky to handle. The crust was chewier than she had expected, so she pulled a bit harder, and the syrup in the bun squirted onto her shirt.
“Oops!” Sara put down the bun and the chopsticks, and reached for the napkins. But the juice had already left a brownish stain on the wings of the butterfly, right between her breasts.
She barely noticed Mateo taking his own napkin and pouring some water on it. She only noticed him when he was by her side, and his whispered words sent a shiver down her spine. “Allow me.”
He rubbed the napkin against the stain, carefully and without hurry. Little by little, the brown color faded. Sara’s skin burned with each rub. His knuckle pressed against her skin, and she let out a small gasp. She gulped when Mateo stopped rubbing at the stain, and looked up at her. The desire thrumming through her body was reflected in his eyes. His eyes flicked to her lips, and she watched, completely frozen, as he moved closer to her mouth. Her eyes fluttered closed as she felt his breath on her lips, and then his lips brushed against hers for a brief second. Her lips tingled and burned from the touch, but then it was gone.
“I’m sorry,” Mateo apologized. His tongue flicked out and licked at his lips. “I just had to taste it.”
“It’s okay,” Sara responded and stood up. “Excuse me, I have to use the restroom.”
Sara saw her flushed face in the mirror. There was a tiny smudge of brown sugar under her lower lip. So, that was what he was after? She couldn’t help but chuckle. Touching her lips with her index finger, she tried to recall the feeling that the contact of his lips aroused. His lips! She had to take back what she had said earlier about his lips. They were not solid, not at all. They were soft, they were velvety. She smiled and closed her eyes. Velvety. Who would have known? Those thick, masculine lips were so tender. She splashed cold water over her face. Her stomach twisted with heat, and she desperately needed to regain
control of her emotions.
* * *
They walked back to the car in awkward silence. Sara was still intoxicated by that sudden kiss. Mateo was very attractive, and he was a perfect gentleman, but she didn’t know him well enough to encourage any kind of relationship. And he was too hot for her. She had to stop her foolish fantasizing.
“Did you grow up in Oregon?” Mateo finally broke the silence as he pulled the car out of the parking lot.
“No, I’m from California. I grew up right here in the San Gabriel Valley.”
“Really?”
“Yes, in fact, I . . .” Sara paused. She was about to tell him she’d been a champion swimmer at the Y when she was a teenager, but a sudden bout of shyness overtook her. She said instead, “I, uh, would go to the Y occasionally.”
“I see.” Mateo nodded, “So what made you decide to move back to LA?”
“I, uh, got divorced.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It’s all right. It just didn’t work out.”
“How long were you married?”
“About five years. I was a graduate student and he was my professor. He was an excellent mathematician and I was in love with his mathematical mind. It was only after we were married that I realized just because he was a great mathematician, didn’t mean he’d be a great husband—” Sara stopped abruptly. Why was she telling him all these things? She cleared her throat and turned to look out window, surprised that they were already close to her neighborhood.
* * *
“Let me walk you to your door,” Mateo said as he parked his car outside the condo community.
“There is no need to. It’s a safe place,” Sara said as she unfastened her seatbelt. Mateo turned off the engine, and exited the car. Before Sara could open hers, Mateo was there, opening the car door for her and offering a hand to help her out.
Sara had no choice but let him touch her lightly on the arm. She instantly became aware of his strong, masculine scent. Desire shot through her, and she had to stop herself from collapsing in his strong arms.
The night was quiet as they walked side by side towards her condo. There were a few other cars parked on the street. Sara saw a movement in one of the cars and noticed a man sitting inside. Normally, she would be alarmed, but with Mateo walking beside her, she didn’t give it too much thought. The feeling of being protected was simply wonderful, and the knowledge that the protective force came from a gorgeous man flattered her. The night air was permeated with the scent of Champaca, which didn’t quite mask Mateo’s masculine scent. They walked silently until they got to her yard.
“Thank you very much for the evening,” Sara said, surprised that her voice sounded so normal. “I enjoyed it very much. It was a fabulous restaurant.”
“My pleasure!” Mateo answered. “Just let me know whenever you want to go again.”
“Oh, thank you, that’s so very generous of you, but . . .”
“I owe you a dinner per lesson, remember? And I don’t enjoy being in debt.”
Sara laughed. “I have no problem being a creditor. If I started to charge interest, pretty soon you’d need to treat me dinner every day.”
“No problem! I’m willing to do it for the rest of my life” Mateo said in a low and husky voice.
His voice sent an electric current through her spine.
He put his hands gently on her shoulders and whispered, “Sara.”
Sara fought of the tremble she felt and tried to avoid his eager eyes. “It’s getting late,” she said uneasily, “you’d better get going.”
Mateo squeezed those delicate shoulders gently, as if he was battling with the temptation to pull her to him and to kiss her. For a moment, she wished he would do just that. She knew it would be good, knew the kiss would send shivers down her spine. She licked her lips, her chest rising and falling in anticipation. She saw a flicker of lust flash through his eyes, before he lowered his gaze. He took a loud breath and let her go.
“I’ll see you again soon,” he said as she was turning towards the door. “We’ll go to the nursery together one day. Are you free over the weekends?”
“I’m busy on Sundays. I help my dad in his flower shop. ”
“Your dad owns a flower shop?”
“Yes. In Alhambra. It’s a small shop and he usually works alone.”
“We’ll go on a Saturday, then.” And without giving her time to make up an excuse, he said, “It’s summer time, and the roses are begging to be planted.”
“Let me think about it,” Sara muttered as she stepped into her yard. “Good night!”
“Good night,” Mateo said softly and turned.
Sara lingered at the entrance of her yard until Mateo’s back vanished into the night.
She heard the start of a car engine. And before she got into her house, she heard another. The image of the parked car with a man inside flashed in her mind. She gasped in horror. It had been a black car, but had it been a Chrysler? She ran to the gate and looked out at the street. There was only one car in the parking lot. The black car was gone.
She stood in terror for a moment and then calmed herself down. It couldn’t possibly be what she was thinking. Bill was in Oregon. And even if he were here, he wouldn’t be waiting outside her condo, he wouldn’t know where she lived, and he wouldn’t know what time she went out. Convinced by that series logical reasoning, she went back to her house and got straight into the shower.
Chapter 6
Sara pulled into the parking lot of Artist Florist five minutes early. She was sure she’d inherited her father’s punctuality, since her mother was never on time. Derek and Mable used to come to the shop together but he got tired of waiting for her every morning in the car, and bought another car for her in order to open the shop on time. Sara often wondered whether her dad could have saved his marriage if he had given in to her mom’s habit. The flower shop might have been long gone but her parents might still be married to each other. But such wistful thinking had no meaning, of course, since Mabel had been remarried for nearly ten years.
“Hi, Dad!” Sara entered the shop with a chime of the bell hanging on the door.
“Hi, Yingying.” Her father smiled warmly at her.
“Wow, Dad, are these your newest creations? Awesome!” Sara called as she spotted the flower arrangements at the back of the shop.
“Yes, I’m making a collection called the Eastern Beauties.”
“Oh!” Sara looked closer and found that the arrangements indeed shared a common trait—they were made of flowers favored by Chinese traditions.
There was a ceramic vase with yellow mums on top of lucky bamboos, a plate featuring a single branch of the boat orchid, a glass vase with white lilies matched with white plum flowers, a basket of azaleas with dwarf bamboos, and there was also some crimson China Roses.
“Are the white plums from your yard?” Sara asked, thinking that it was too late in the season for them to bloom.
“Yep.” Her father nodded proudly, “I preserved them.”
“Really?” Sara looked carefully at the flowers. “You can’t tell them from fresh ones.”
“Of course,” Derek said smugly.
“What are you going to do with the roses?”
“I’m still trying to decide. It seems like they look the best when they’re alone.”
“Really?” Sara took a branch of rose and placed it among each arrangement. Her dad was right, it didn’t look congruent with any others.
“Have you had breakfast?” Derek asked, pointing at a bag on the table. “There are some fresh pineapple buns from Aunt Liu’s bakery.”
“Fantastic!” Sara exclaimed. Pineapple bread had always been her favorite, and Aunt Liu made the best bread in the San Gabriel area. The bakery was just a few doors down the block and had been their family’s breakfast provider for as long as she remembered.
Before taking a bite, she asked, “How is Aunt Liu?”
“She’s all right. Comes to th
e bakery every day, never takes a day off.”
“You guys have a lot in common, Dad.”
“Really, like what?”
“You’re both hard-working,” Sara said, hoping her father would take the hint. Aunt Liu was about her dad’s age, and had never been married.
“Oh, then her oven and I also have a lot in common.”
“Dad!”
“Eat your bun!”
Sara knew her father was trying to avoid the topic, but she wouldn’t give up so easily. “You don’t intend to be alone for the rest of your life, do you, Dad?”
“Shouldn’t I be worrying about you? After all, I’m the father.”
“No, seriously, Dad. Aunt Liu and you are a perfect . . .”
Before Sara could finish her sentence, they heard Aunt Liu’s voice outside, “Yingying! Yingying!”
“Speak of the devil!” Derek went to the door.
“Where is Yingying?” Aunt Liu shouted as soon as she got in the shop. “Oh, there you are! Your dad told me you would be here today. Ah, you’ve grown—and prettier than I saw you last time!”
Which was about six months ago. Sara smiled and gave Aunt Liu a hug. “Thank you, Aunt Liu, you too!”
Aunt Liu could be summed up in one word: round. Her eyes, nose, mouth, and the shape of her body, all reminded Sara of her favorite pineapple bun. Perhaps that was the reason that she felt especially happy whenever she saw Aunt Liu.
“Ai, Yingying.” Although Aunt Liu didn’t have any kids, she sounded like a mom. “You poor thing, you’re really divorced?”
“Yes.” Sara nodded calmly. It had been a secret until lately.
“I don’t believe it. When your father told me, I just couldn’t believe it. Why? You’re a good girl!”
Derek spoke in order to help out his daughter, “It has nothing to do with being good or bad.”