Under a Silver Moon

by Barbara Sheridan

  It didn’t come as a surprise when she slapped him, but the look of shame and the tears that sprang into her eyes before she turned and fled the house did. He was still standing in the center of the wide staircase when Nimura-san ventured out of the kitchen.

  “What have you done, Imi-chan?” she asked, reverting to the pet name she’d used for him as a child.

  “None of your business,” he snapped, going down the stairs the rest of the way and locking himself in the parlor with the liquor cabinet.

  * * * * *

  All the clothes Kim had folded away in the dresser the day before yesterday were now bundled in piles around her feet. She moved from one stack to the other, haphazardly stuffing them into her suitcases, her vision blurred with tears.

  She wasn’t going to give Imai the satisfaction of firing her. Before she let that happen, she’d walk out of here herself ‑‑ the way she should’ve done the moment she realized things weren’t going well.

  “How stupid could I have been?” She wiped away the teardrops that slid from beneath lashes.

  A soft knock sounded at the door to the guesthouse, and Kim debated just ignoring it in case it was Imai coming to humiliate her more. But she doubted the jackass bothered with courtesies like knocking, and sure enough it was Mrs. Nimura at the door.

  The old woman peered around her and frowned when she saw the suitcases. “Imai-san has a bad temper,” Mrs. Nimura said. “He doesn’t realize what he says can hurt others.”

  Shaking her head, Kim disagreed. “Imai-san knows exactly what he says, and he knows exactly the effect his words and actions have.”

  “But he is like the dog that barks but doesn’t bite.”

  “I think he’s more like the scary troll that eats the fools who cross over his bridge.”

  “He needs a woman who can see past his worst side,” Mrs. Nimura said.

  Kim couldn’t help but laugh. “When that woman appears you give her a gold medal for me, okay?”

  “Imai-san is not always easy to get along with.” The old housekeeper gave Kim a tired look. “But he has a good heart. Many times he goes out of his way to help charities and he is good to his fans. But when it comes to his personal life, he forgets himself, I think.”

  Kim remembered that scrapbook she’d seen in Imai’s room and the letter from that one little girl who’d been injured in an accident while trying to see Imai’s band perform.

  “There isn’t anything I can do to help him with that,” she said finally. “He doesn’t like me very much.”

  “I think he likes you more than he wants to admit,” Mrs. Nimura replied. She gave Kim a short bow and left.

  Kim looked at her clothes and the suitcase for a long time before giving in to her gut feeling. She put the clothing back away and tucked the bag into the closet, then went back up to the main house.

  Mrs. Nimura was coming down from upstairs with Imai’s untouched breakfast tray in her hands when Kim entered the foyer. She nodded toward a set of closed double doors to the right of the hall. “He’s in there.”

  Kim knocked on the door, then pushed it open just a little, not wanting to get a surprise eyeful as she had the other night.

  “Go away,” Imai said as he sat staring at the brandy snifter in his hands.

  “No.” Kim strode across the room and took the glass from him. “Why do you insist on doing this? Do you want to have a fatal overdose?”

  “I didn’t drink any.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “I can prove it, no liquor on my breath.” He opened his mouth and beckoned her closer.

  Kim leaned in. He was telling the truth. She pulled away, and he stood to face her, stepping close, his robe untied and hanging open to reveal his toned, bare chest.

  “Are you sure you believe me, Donovan-san?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and made a point to look away from his body. “I’m still trying to figure that out.”

  “Of course,” he grumbled, placing the snifter on the end table next to his chair. “Maybe you can ‘figure out’ your way to the door while you’re at it.”

  “Maybe I should.” Kim clenched her jaw, wondering why she’d even bothered coming here in the first place. Mrs. Nimura was wrong ‑‑ the only thing Imai Shimizu cared about was himself. She moved to leave, but froze when he called her.

  “Wait, Kim. Please.”

  “Thought of another way to make me feel like a fool?” Kim pressed her lips together in a thin, angry line.

  He opened his mouth to reply, but apparently thought better of what he’d planned to say. After a moment, he said softly, “I was the fool. I shouldn’t have said those things to you earlier.”

  She stuck her hands into the pockets of her slacks. “I wasn’t spying on you. I forgot my jacket the other night. I’m sorry for walking in. I thought you might have been sleeping.”

  He dismissed it with a wave of his hand, and she tried not to remember the pleasure that hand had brought her last night. “You didn’t eat your breakfast. Is your leg still bothering you?”

  “It’s fine. In fact I have an appointment this afternoon to have it checked. Are you up to braving the Tokyo streets, or should I call a taxi?”

  Kim offered him a shy smile. “I’ll brave it if you trust me.”

  He stood and reached for his crutches. She darted over to grab them for him.

  “Do you need help dressing?”

  Imai shook his head. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

  “I’ll get my purse and meet you back here.”

  He raised his hand to acknowledge her comment but didn’t bother to look back.

  After dressing in a dark navy blue shirt and black jeans, Imai made his way back downstairs to find Kim waiting for him at the front door. She’d changed also, and looked simply beautiful in an off-white linen dress with a scoop neck that complemented the curves of her body. He almost told her so, but caught himself in time.

  He’d already tricked himself into thinking she felt more for him besides the mutual sexual attraction. Keeping things “strictly business,” as she’d phrased it, was for the best.

  The garage was apart from the main house, and a pebbled driveway led behind a small garden where the spring ume blossoms were already filling the tree branches. Three cars were parked in the carport, and Imai handed Kim the keys for the silver BMW.

  “Before we go to the doctor’s, I want to make a stop in Shinjuku for some shopping I have to do,” he said, easing down into the backseat where he could stretch out his leg.

  “Shinjuku. Right,” Kim said confidently as she closed the door and got into the driver’s seat. It was so weird being on the “wrong side,” but she could deal with it. She hoped. She turned the key in the ignition, and the expensive engine purred to life, unlike her crappy old clunker back home. “So. Is Shinjuku anywhere near the photographer’s studio?”

  Imai chuckled and she glanced in the rearview mirror to see him slipping his sunglasses on. “Turn left out of the drive, go straight ahead until we reach the main intersection, make a right, and I’ll guide you from there.”

  He could see how intent she was on not making a mistake so he didn’t trifle with small talk. Instead he looked out the window, taking in the familiar passing scenery until they closed in on the shopping district and he directed her to a valet car park.

  “Your daughter is how old? Eighteen?” he asked when she helped him out of the car.

  “She’ll be eighteen in a few months. Why?”

  “I need to buy a birthday gift for a young lady.”

  Kim put her sunglasses on. “I would think buying women gifts comes naturally to you,” she said coolly, falling into step beside him.

  “Women, yes. Young girls, no.”

  “Touché.”

  They paused to await the traffic signal to cross the street and Kim glanced over at Imai. “Is this for a niece? Daughter of a friend?”

  They began to cross. “It’s for a young American girl. You may
know the one. She was in the scrapbook you were snooping through the other day.”

  Kim hesitated right in the middle of the crosswalk, but collected herself quickly to keep up with the crowd of other pedestrians making their way to the shops. Imai continued on, smirking as she came up beside him again.

  “Hey,” she said. “I wasn’t ‘snooping.’ It looked like it might’ve been a coffee-table book, or something similar.” A moment later she cleared her throat. “But this is very kind of you.”

  “It’s nothing.” Imai shrugged as best he could with the crutches. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Kim kept staring at him, and he raised his eyebrows at her.

  She answered his unspoken question. “Just thinking about a few things Mrs. Nimura told me earlier.”

  “Like what?” Imai frowned.

  “Nothing,” Kim shrugged, but the hint of smile appeared at the corners of her mouth.

  As they came up to a boutique with a display in the front glass featuring trendy-looking clothes and fashion jewelry, Imai stopped. “Would something from here be good?” he asked.

  “I imagine anything from you would thrill her to pieces. Even a simple card or flowers.”

  “I have more class than that.”

  Kim frowned and followed as he moved on to the next boutique. “Cards and flowers are lovely.”

  Imai stuck that perfect nose of his in the air and paused before another window. “They’re cheap and show a decided lack of concern.”

  Kim frowned again and adjusted the strap of her shoulder bag. “So what does that say about women who like cards and flowers?”

  Imai’s reflection smirked at her in the large display window. “It would seem to indicate a woman who is easy to please.” He moved on toward the next shop.

  Kim heard a squeal that sounded rather a lot like Mandy, and she jerked her head around to see two Japanese teenagers in sailor-like school uniforms dash across the street toward Imai. Oh God. Was she supposed to act like a bodyguard, too? She moved quickly beside Imai. “Look out, incoming fangirls.”

  But Imai hardly batted an eye. He turned to greet the two girls with one of his stunning, knee-weakening smiles. They started bowing nervously and gushing about his music.

  “Imai-san, we can’t wait for your solo concert,” the taller of the two girls said. “You’ll be better by then, won’t you?”

  “The cast may come off today,” he said with another dazzling smile.

  “We have tickets to your Zepp Tokyo show already!” The other one smiled shyly. “In the front.”

  “Then I’ll have to say hello during the concert,” Imai said, making the two girls start squealing all over again. He laughed and pointed to the notebooks one of them held.

  “Would you like an autograph?”

  Why did he even bother asking? The two girls whipped out a pen and some paper, and he made out an autograph for each of them.

  The girls ran off deliriously happy, and Kim found herself smiling at Imai.

  “You’re good to your fans,” she said quietly.

  “They’re the ones who really sign my paychecks, aren’t they?”

  “I suppose they are.”

  He gestured to a sprawling department store at the end of the block. “Let’s go there.”

  Kim smiled when she saw the name on the front of the building. “I read about this store on the plane. It was founded as a kimono shop in the 1600’s.”

  “I know,” Imai said dryly, waiting for her to hold the large glass door open for him.

  Grinding her teeth, Kim followed him through the crowd and to the floor where the women’s clothing was located. He would of course know exactly where that was. “Oh, darn. We should have brought the dress from last night. You could have returned it.”

  “I didn’t get it here. I bought it at Isteban. They stock larger than average Japanese sizes. “

  Kim’s jaw and molars soon hurt from gritting her teeth. She tried not to notice all the petite Japanese women with their flawless complexions and tiny little waists. She felt like a blond Amazon, and if she didn’t know better she’d think all the turning heads were because of her “freakish” appearance and not the fact that Imai’s handsomeness was blowing them away.

  She bumped into Imai when he stopped suddenly, grabbing him when he almost lost his balance.

  “Are you trying to re-break my leg?”

  She returned the glare she was certain he was giving her behind those expensive sunglasses. “If I could cause you any impairment, it would be to give you a case of laryngitis.”

  He stuck his sculpted nose in the air once more, then headed back toward the elevator. “I think a piece of jewelry would be better.”

  “But not something too flashy or expensive,” Kim said. “You wouldn’t want her to get the wrong idea.”

  “Like you did?”

  Kim stood open-mouthed as he went into the elevator and a group of middle-aged ladies crowded in after him, not giving Kim a chance to get on.

  As the doors closed he gave her a little wave from over the shoppers’ heads.

  “That bastard,” Kim seethed. Instead of waiting for the next elevator, she stalked over to the escalators in the middle of the store. With each step, she started to feel self-conscious of the three to four inch height difference she had over most of the women here-- not to mention her bust size. By the time she got to the second floor, to say she wasn’t in the best of moods would’ve been the understatement of the century.

  She found Imai leaning over the jewelry counter, looking at a matching set of earrings and a pendant with some kind of cobalt stone. “It’s about time,” he said with that same, infuriating smirk as always. “What do you think about these?”

  “I think you can shove it where the sun doesn’t shine,” she muttered under her breath. She moved away and went to look at the adjacent counter.

  Imai smiled to himself and went over to the watch counter. He picked a simple white gold watch with a charm bracelet type strap, then chose three charms to have put on the watch; the letter “S” for his young fan’s name, a guitar, and a sakura blossom. He also requested that a birthday greeting be engraved on the watch back and asked that it be ready later that afternoon.

  He was stopped by more fans on the way to find Kim and chatted with them, all the while keeping track of where his lovely nurse was. When he caught up to her she was gazing down at the diamond rings, and he found himself remembering how beautiful she’d been in the necklace he’d given her. And that she’d rejected.

  “It’s tacky for women to buy their own diamonds. Didn’t you know that?”

  She turned and gave him a look of distaste that nonetheless amused him more than anything had in quite some time. “We have to come back. I bought a watch and am having it engraved. We can get lunch first. I know a quiet restaurant. Come.”

  Kim folded her arms across her chest. “Wouldn’t that be cutting it a bit close to your doctor’s appointment?”

  “You’ll drive fast afterwards,” Imai said lightly. “Unless what you’re trying to say is that you don’t want to have lunch with me.”

  “As a matter of fact, I don’t.” Kim scowled at him. “But as your nurse, I can’t let you go wandering around the city alone with that bad leg.”

  “Of course not.” Imai’s lips quirked up in a smile. He loved the way Kim not only bristled at his expression, but how a light blush appeared on her cheeks. She might not love him, but the attraction she felt for him was undeniable.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Is something the matter?” Imai asked as he looked over his menu and took note of Kim trying to look around but not be obvious about it. He contained his amusement when Kim buried her face in her own menu though it was written mostly in Japanese.

  “Nothing is wrong. I just thought I noticed a couple of people my daughter showed me in her Japanese movie and music magazines.”

  Imai glanced around the restaurant that was a usual stop for many in the entertainm
ent industry due to the management’s strict privacy policy where the press was concerned. “Would you like autographs to send her?”

  She lowered the menu and again that attractive blush crept into her ivory cheeks. “No, that’s all right. I don’t want to interrupt anyone’s lunch. I imagine it makes you guys rather crazy to be set on by fans all the time, and I’m sure they all aren’t as polite as you were to those girls today.”

  “It’s true.” Imai set his menu down and rested his chin in his hand as he stared across the table at her. “Some of them can actually be abrasive, bossy, know-it-all types.”

  She frowned, clearly knowing where his train of thought headed. “Ha ha.” Kim looked over her menu and glared at him. “It could be worse ‑‑ they could be immature, self-centered, not-quite-as-smart-as-they-think types.”

  Fighting the desire to chuckle, Imai sipped at his glass of water. “Why is it the more pissy you get, the cuter you get?” he asked with as dry an expression as he could muster.

  Kim rolled her eyes, but that blush colored her cheeks with renewed vigor. This time Imai did chuckle.

  “Hello, Shimizu-san.” A waiter appeared at their table with a pad in hand to jot down their order. “What will you have today?”

  “Kim, you’ve been reading the menu all this time.” Imai smirked. “Why don’t you do the honors?”

  “Of course,” she said forcing a smile. Oh, good lord she didn’t have a clue as to what half of this stuff was, but she did have an idea of the prices, doing some very quick conversion math thanks to Mandy’s loving to buy Japanese CDs online. She didn’t want to pick the expensive thing, but she didn’t have much of a clue as to what this stuff was beyond appetizers and main courses due to the sections of the menu and the corresponding cost.

  However, a particular piece of writing jumped out at her in the descriptive portion of one of the dishes. She recognized the characters for “shrimp” as being similar to that of the Japanese restaurant where she and Mandy sometimes ate in L.A. Kim pointed to the item on the menu. “We’ll have this, and Shimizu-san can choose the entree.”