Under a Silver Moon

by Barbara Sheridan

  The erotic dancing.

  In those butter-soft, black leather pants.

  “Donovan-san!” Imai bellowed from behind her.

  “Sorry!” Kim took one of the single socks that were folded neatly in a small bin and the boot and returned to the bedroom. “Let me help you,” she said dropping to her knees before him.

  The sight of Kim Donavan between his knees did nothing short of revitalize the frustrated ache in Imai’s groin. He forced himself to look away with an irritated sigh as she worked at tugging the boot on, but his hands clutched at the bed sheets.

  “What’s wrong? Too snug?” she asked, worried. “Maybe you need a more comfortable pair of shoes.”

  Imai bit his tongue to keep from blurting out what he “needed” as he remembered his arousal from last night. Hell, masturbating to the thought of Kim Donovan had proved more satisfying than half the nights he’d spent with an actual woman.

  “They are too tight.” Kim mistook the tortured look on his face and reached to pull the shoe off.

  “Stop!” he ordered, but to his own ears it sounded more like a squeak. “Shoe is fine. Fine!” He jabbed his index finger at his wristwatch. “Late!”

  A sharp laugh made both Imai and Kim look toward the bedroom door.

  “I hope I’m not interrupting kinky convalescent sex,” Imai’s friend and band mate Koji quipped.

  Imai flipped him off and motioned for Kim to move. He grabbed his crutches and hobbled to his friend, then began cursing him in their native tongue. Koji replied with another sharp laugh.

  “You want her bad, don’t you? I can see the frustration in your eyes.”

  “No, I don’t want her. She’s an obnoxious American who can’t do a damn thing right.”

  Koji grinned. “And I guess your bad attitude is not affecting your opinion.”

  “I do not have a bad attitude, you ass.”

  Koji answered with another laugh. “Whatever.” He held up a large envelope. “Jun and I worked on the music for those new songs of yours. You can take a look and let us know what you think. I think the second one might be good for your solo gig.”

  “Excuse me.”

  Imai glared over his shoulder at Kim. “What?”

  “Will your friend be driving you to the photographer?” She added driving gestures to indicate what she meant, which drew a loud, derisive laugh from Koji. Imai turned his harsh look on the guitarist.

  “What the hell?”

  “She thinks I only speak Japanese.”

  Koji laughed louder.

  “Shut up!” Imai demanded. He banged the heel of his crutch on Koji’s foot for emphasis.

  “Ow! What the fuck!” Koji hopped on one leg, flashing Imai a furious look. “Give me that crutch so I can shove it up your ass!”

  Imai snorted. “Good luck; I’ve seen your aim.” He jabbed his crutch in the direction of the door. “Get out before you ruin things.”

  “Asshole.” Koji glared. He turned to Kim and gave her a sympathetic look, speaking to her in English. “It seems Imai-kun finally scared off all the employable women in Japan. How did he bribe you to come and work for him? Did he have Nimura-san write a glowing, lie-filled letter on his behalf?”

  “Well, um,” Kim stammered. “I was referred by a friend of a Mr. Nakamura in Los Angeles.”

  Koji folded his arms across his chest. “Ah I see…”

  Imai fairly trembled with rage as he fixed his soon-to-be-former friend with the harshest look he could muster. Still, the bastard went on with his usual amiable grin.

  “So Imai whined to Ryuhei to get him a new victim. So sorry, an assistant.”

  Kim cleared her throat. “Since Mr. Shimizu broke his leg, I’m also acting as his personal assistant, yes,” she said.

  “Didn’t they warn you?” Koji shook his head. “Those bastards. Imai has…problems.”

  “Problems?” Kim raised her eyebrows.

  “Yes.” Koji lowered his voice. “Sometimes the rash gets so bad, he can’t stop scratching. He can’t really talk about it since his English is so bad.”

  Imai gritted his teeth so hard, his jaw hurt. “Can I talk to you outside?” he hissed in Japanese.

  Koji replied by giving him the finger.

  “Well,” Kim said, pausing for a time ‑‑ a rather long time, and Imai didn’t even want to think what things were going through her mind. Finally she said, “I’m a nurse as well, so I don’t imagine it isn’t anything I haven’t seen before.” She smiled, though it was clearly forced.

  Imai smirked and whacked Koji’s leg with his crutch. “Go now.”

  “Fine, I’m leaving.” Koji rubbed his leg and shot Imai a dirty look before speaking to Kim. “Just make sure he uses his cream in case the sores flare up.”

  “Why, you little shit!” Imai cursed in Japanese and tried to hobble after him, but Koji darted away.

  “It’s okay, calm down.” Kim put a hand on his shoulder, and he shrugged it off, straightening his shirt in a huff. Once this fucking cast was off, he’d make Koji pay for that last comment.

  “You don’t want to aggravate your leg…or anything else.”

  Imai whipped around to face her, his eyes wide. She touched his shoulder again and lowered her voice. “If you have some sort of venereal disease, please don’t feel too embarrassed to discuss it.”

  No wonder he hadn’t wanted to undress completely for his bath, although obviously the man had no problem undressing a multitude of strange women, judging by his “trophy collection.” Kim jumped when Imai prodded her leg with his crutch and pointed to the open jewel box on the bed. “Cuffs. Skull.”

  “Right. Sorry.” Kim went back to the box and tried not to wonder how much all this stuff cost. There was a tray of rings with stones and of plain metals. Beneath that were the cufflinks. She found a skull shaped pair in white gold or platinum ‑‑ she wasn’t sure which ‑‑ and took them to him. The singer imperiously held out his arm for her to set the links in place.

  Once that was done, he moved over to the dresser, picked up his wallet and keys, and shoved them into his pants pockets.

  “Go now. Late,” he grumbled at her and Kim nodded. She went down the stairs slightly ahead of him, watching as he hobbled down. It was clear that his limited mobility was driving him to distraction, but she hoped that he wasn’t pushing himself beyond his limits because that would only impede his recovery.

  Imai’s friend Koji was in the hall near the front door, speaking with Mrs. Nimura.

  “You. Go home!” Imai shouted.

  Koji flipped him off again and leaned in to whisper something to the housekeeper, who nodded before heading back toward the kitchen.

  Ignoring Imai’s angry stare, Koji smiled and addressed Kim in English. “Is a car coming to take you to the photographer?”

  “I don’t think so. I think he wants me to drive him, but I have no idea where I’m supposed to go. The place is called, Hib ‑‑ Hib-something.”

  “Hibiya,” Imai snapped.

  Koji nodded, totally ignoring his perturbed band mate. “I know the place I’ll drop you off. You can phone me when you need a lift back. I have some things to do out that way.”

  “Like prance around in a dress and high heels for Jun?” Imai said with a sneer.

  Koji smirked. “Someone needs to get laid, don’t they?” He put his hand lightly on Kim’s shoulder and led her out to his car.

  Imai was forced to take the backseat so he could stretch his leg out and found himself subjected to Koji’s playing the pleasant fucking host. What a smooth bastard the guitarist was as he humbly shrugged off Kim’s compliments on the band’s performance she’d seen via DVD and immediately turned the conversation back to her.

  Imai leaned forward and angrily jabbed the back of Koji’s seat. “Pay more attention to the road, dickhead,” he snapped in Japanese. He was loath to admit it, but the way Kim paid such close attention to Koji pissed him off.

  “What was that, Imai-san?” Koji gla
nced up into the rearview mirror. He pouted with fake concern. “Aw, you don’t feel so good. Is it ‑‑?”

  “Drive!” Imai roared in frustration, slumping back into the seat.

  “Okay, okay.” Koji coughed to hide what had to be laughter. He cleared his throat and turned back to Kim. “So is this your first time in Tokyo, Donovan-san? Where has Imai taken you so far?”

  “I only just arrived yesterday.”

  “And he’s working you to death so soon?” Koji let out an exaggerated sigh and shook his head. They stopped at a traffic light and Koji leaned over. “Between you and I, Donovan-san, it’s a good thing he doesn’t understand much English, otherwise I couldn’t say that I feel sorry for you having to work for such a selfish bastard. Working with him is bad enough; I can’t imagine what it’s like to have to work for him.”

  Imai grabbed Koji’s headrest and squeezed down the way he was going to do to Koji’s neck as soon as Kim wasn’t around. “Drive!” he sputtered, too furious to manage more than a strained little squeak. “No talking! Go!”

  Neither Kim nor Koji acknowledged they’d even heard him.

  “Well, it’s not so bad…” Kim started as the light changed and the car began to move with the traffic. Koji reached over and patted her hand, making her flash that same warm smile from earlier.

  “You don’t have to put up such a brave face,” Koji reassured her with another comforting pat. “I’m ashamed he hasn’t shown you around town, taken you on a night out to enjoy yourself.”

  “The city is beautiful,” Kim said. “From what I’ve seen, anyway.”

  “I’m actually free tonight.” Koji winked at her. Winked at her!

  Imai sucked in his breath, his eyes widening in horror. “What the hell are you doing!” he ground out between clenched teeth. Damn that Koji. He’d come this close to blurting it out in English.

  Kim whipped her head around to look at him. “Are you in pain? Should we pull over for me to check your leg?”

  Koji of course repeated it in Japanese just to be an ass, and he added, “Are you jealous of me, Imai-kun?”

  Chapter Five

  “Jealous?” Imai snorted from the backseat. “Please. I think Jun’s fucked out what was left of your brains.” He ignored that nagging feeling in the back of his mind that said otherwise.

  “See, I knew it.” Koji shook his head sadly and sighed. “You do need a good lay.”

  Kim touched Koji’s shoulder. “What’s he saying? Is everything all right?”

  “He’s just in a grumpy mood.” Koji pouted. “A little…frustrated…you know.”

  “Oh, I see.” Kim furrowed her eyebrows. She paused and gave Imai a puzzled look in the rearview mirror before lowering her voice to Koji. “Really?”

  “Frustrated in general. He’s not used to being confined to home. When we’re not touring or in the studio, he’s what you’d call a playboy. A different woman every night and sometimes more than one at a time.”

  “I see.” Kim turned to look out the window, apparently no longer interested in Koji’s conversation.

  Imai smirked at Koji through the mirror. “More than you ever had, isn’t that right?” he said in Japanese.

  That took the cocky grin right off the guitarist’s face. “Asshole,” Koji muttered sourly as he turned off the road.

  They pulled into the building’s underground garage, and Koji stopped the car in front of the elevators. As Kim moved to get out, he touched her hand.

  “Would you like to go out tonight, Donovan-san?” he asked with a small smile. “I think you’d enjoy a break after working so hard.”

  Imai glared and smacked the back of the driver’s seat. “Out! Late!” He kicked the back of Kim’s seat. “Help!”

  Koji helped Imai out, gripping his arm a lot harder than necessary. Imai poked him in the leg with his crutch and hobbled to the elevator.

  “Shimizu-san!” Kim called, hurrying forward. “Please go slowly.”

  Koji shook his head and followed. Imai tried to close the elevator door with the inside button, but Koji slipped in before he could. “Well?” he asked Kim. “Let me show you a little of Tokyo.”

  “No. My nurse,” Imai grumbled.

  Kim nodded. “He’s right. I’m on twenty-four-hour call.”

  Koji scowled at his friend as they exited the elevator. “That isn’t fair to you. I discussed it with Nimura-san. She is happy to stay over tonight and be there if Imai needs assistance.”

  “My nurse,” Imai growled. “Busy.” Damn, but Koji was pushing it. Imai tried to shove the pest out, but with his cast he couldn’t get the traction he needed.

  “I don’t think I can.” Kim gave Koji a disappointed look. “Maybe some other time.”

  “If Imai-san has his way, you’ll be busy right until the last moment before your flight out of Japan.” Koji pouted again.

  Kim smiled and Imai refused to see her disappointment. “Perhaps I can come back. Or if you’re free in a month you might show my daughter and I both around town. She’ll be coming over when she finishes school.”

  Koji knew enough to admit defeat. “All right.” He gave her a polite bow. “Maybe some other time. Hey ‑‑” He grinned and clapped Imai on the shoulder. “Maybe I’ll come by tonight and check up on everyone then.”

  Gritting his teeth, Imai smacked Koji’s hand. “No. You stay away.”

  Koji smirked. “But I can help you with your English.”

  A growling sound rumbled in Imai’s throat. He needed help with English about as much as Kim Donovan needed breast implants. His father had been assigned to the Japanese Embassy in Washington DC when he was just a toddler, and by the time the family returned to Tokyo before his first year of high school he could speak English better than he could his native Japanese. He was the one who’d tutored the rest of ChildsPrey ‑‑ especially thickheaded Koji, who still had the whole R/L pronunciation problem.

  “I think it’s a wonderful idea,” Kim said before they reached the photographer’s studio door. “It would certainly help our working relationship if I knew that Shimizu-san was understanding me, since he evidently didn’t about mixing the scotch with his pain meds.”

  She gave Imai a scathing look, which he gladly returned.

  Koji chuckled. “Imai-kun is not the type to take orders. You should hear him and Jun get into it sometimes.”

  Imai grumbled yet again and pushed the studio’s door buzzer with the tip of his crutch.

  “I see.” Kim gave a knowing nod, smirking in Imai’s direction. “But when it comes to matters that concern my client’s health, I can be pretty stubborn myself.”

  Imai glared over his shoulder while Koji snickered. “Donovan-san, I think Imai’s met his match finally.”

  Before Imai could respond, the studio door swung open. The photographer leaned in the frame, his shoulder-length hair a mess of blonde tangles around his thin face. Staring over the top of his wire-rimmed, violet-tinted glasses, he pursed his lips at the trio standing outside his door.

  “Why didn’t you call me earlier, Imai-san!” Harada raised his hands in frustration. “With the show tonight, I’m up to my ass taking pictures of fashion models for the designers!”

  Imai leaned in and told Harada that he needed no more than thirty minutes, that in fact he’d sit and wait an hour or two if need be. Harada hemmed and hawed until Imai said the magic words, “I’ll pay extra.”

  Concealing his triumph, Imai turned. He ignored the lingering presence of Koji and fixed Kim with a cold look of disdain. He tapped his watch. “Late, so now wait turn.”

  Kim followed him into the studio’s outer office. “I’m sorry, Shimizu-san, I had no idea ‑‑” Kim broke off when Koji stepped around her and said something to the singer. Kim had no doubt they were arguing despite their low, controlled tones, yet she was at a loss to understand why. Maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea. Why on earth did she think she could work in Japan of all places?

  “Pardonnez moi.” />
  Someone shoved past Kim, nearly sending her into the wall.

  “Hey!” Kim caught herself on the edge of one of the leather seats of the studio’s waiting area. She looked up and saw a statuesque blonde model in a low-backed, skintight red dress saunter up to the two musicians.

  Shoving in between them, the woman grabbed the front of Imai’s shirt. Without a word, she pulled him close and took his lips with hers in one of the most passionate kisses Kim had ever seen. A muffled noise came out of Imai as his hands wrapped around the woman’s waist and their mouths moved together in ways that had to be illegal in some countries.

  The model broke away with a sultry smile, more of her lipstick on Imai’s lips than her own. “I hope you enjoyed that,” she purred, her English covered in a thick French accent. Her hands rubbed across the front of his chest for a moment before she slapped his face. “Because that’s the last time you’re getting it, bastard!” The model turned, obviously prepared for a dramatic exit.

  Kim glanced over to Koji Takasoto, who looked back at her. Koji shrugged. “That’s a first.”

  “It won’t be the last.” The model whipped around and smirked at Koji before turning a positively wicked glare in Kim’s direction. “I see he already has a new woman to keep his raging animal drives in check.”

  Kim returned the model’s condescending look. “I’m his nurse and stylist.”

  The model gave her a scathing look. “Yes, I’m sure he gets daily ‘physicals.’”

  She turned up her nose at Kim, who didn’t bother to hide her distaste. Bitch. She watched the model sashay away, only half aware of the quiet yet heated conversation Koji and Imai were having behind her until she heard “Donovan-san” mentioned.