“Only two down. Eight to go. No point in getting stressed out this early in the game.”
“Just looking forward to a little time with the family.” Dad and Mum were only in California for another week before heading back to London. He’d talked with them every few days, had taken a walk over to his apartment last night to hang out with Birdie for an hour, so he’d had some breaks. No way was he confessing his desire to see Meilin. Birdie had taken off this afternoon to go home for the weekend. That meant their apartment was empty. Was it possible to convince Meilin to go there with him tonight? He wanted as many stolen hours of privacy with her as he could get.
Yeah, and he was a bastard for wanting to distract her from her engagement. A right rotten sod. The irony didn’t escape him that he’d be pissed as hell if he were engaged to her and another man was trying to make off with her. In this case, he was the outsider, the other man, the one trying to cuckold another. Wrong in every way except how much he wanted her.
Yeah, he was as dishonorable as a highwayman. He nearly laughed at the vision of himself dressed in boots, breeches, full sleeved shirt, long coat, mask, and tricorn hat, riding up on his black charger to rob the coach of the well-dressed lady inside. She’d be wearing voluminous skirts that would billow out as he plunked her down on his horse and rode off into the night with her captured in his arms. Guess he’d read The Beggar’s Opera too many times. He was as bad as his sister, who loved the historical romances where some masked man swept the beautiful heiress off to a life of decadence and debauchery, only to find himself tamed by the lady and reformed to living a life of decency with wicked depravity confined to the four walls of their Mayfair bed chamber.
Oh he was a gentleman all right. A large drop of spaghetti sauce dripped from his pasta and made a splodge on his light blue polo shirt. Yeah. A right proper gent.
“Oh dear.” A small hand reached over his shoulder to the center of the table and grabbed a wad of paper napkins.
Damn. Meilin. It just figured she’d show up the second he made a spectacle of himself.
He dropped his fork and accepted the napkins while she greeted each student. She took the open chair to his right, and he could feel her scent going directly to his brain.
“You have another spot,” she said.
He shot her a sideways glance and caught her smile. At least she wasn’t full out laughing. Trust him to lose his cool and make an idiot out of himself in front of her. Hadn’t happened since he was six and got caught throwing cake at a neighbor’s granddaughter during a tea party turned tiny food fight. The humiliation suffered that day had taught him to be very, very careful in social situations. He’d worked very hard to evolve into the suave and sophisticated man his mother had expected him to be. Although he hadn’t liked her methods, more than once he’d reluctantly acknowledged the value of her lessons. California’s relaxed ways must be rubbing off for him to let down his guard enough to make a splash of red sauce all over his shirt.
He dunked one of the napkins in his water glass and set about trying to sop up the stain. Stains. Hell, he’d be better off just buying a new shirt.
“Give it to me before I leave tonight. I’ll get the stains out,” she murmured, then turned her head away to answer a question from one of the female students a few seats around the table.
She’d clean his shirt? Still scrubbing, he gave her another glance and imagined towing her up to his room and stripping off the shirt there. Would she notice the thousands of crunches he’d done when he couldn’t make it to the gym? The tan he’d cultivated since arriving in this warm climate? With a flash of heat, he remembered her half-lidded eyes as she took in his shirtless torso once he’d changed into swim togs at the party week before last. Shifting as something else started to take note of her presence and his fantasies, he tried to blot up the excess of water now soaking two parts of his shirt. Damn, that was cold against his skin.
Janice from across the table loaded her dishes onto a tray. “Anyone else ready for coffee and dessert?”
To Drew’s left, Bob stood. “I’ll help you. How many want dessert?”
Every hand rose. Even Cindy, their resident teenager at barely nineteen.
“Coffee?” Janice asked.
No one put their hands down. “Right. I’ll bring back cream and sugar.”
“Don’t forget the forks and spoons,” Dave called after them.
Cindy rolled her eyes. “Come on, big guy, the least we can do is clear the decks.” She started stacking plates on her tray while Dave groaned. But he moved and started collecting trays and utensils. In a minute the table was clear, leaving Drew alone with Chung and Meilin.
“So,” he ventured. “Did Teach over there pass on our homework to you?”
Meilin grinned. “He did. You all did a very good job. Did it take long?”
“Only two nights,” Drew said with a groan. “We did learn how to use the Chinese to English dictionary going both directions.”
Two seats to Drew’s left the professor chuckled and drained his water glass. “I’m not sure I want to know what prompted those particular characters, but I must say you were all very creative. Especially you, Mr. Robinson. Makes one wonder at the type of upbringing you had over there in Merry Old England.”
“Oh, it was very typical of an over-privileged Sussex youth. Loaded with tales of knights and their heroic acts, highway robbers and heiresses, lords and ladies of the court. My father once told me Winnie the Pooh had come through our woods hunting for honey. The search for the bear and the bee hive filled the better part of one summer.” Until his mother had caught on and told him no such thing could ever happen. Odd, now that he thought about it, his father had been the one to read the better bedtime stories. The nannies had kept a wide selection on hand, and Dad had picked the most adventurous of the lot.
“I’m more curious about your upbringing.” Drew split his glance between the two. “You both spent time in China. What was it like?”
“You’ll find out when we get there in a few weeks.” Professor Chung waved a hand. “As American born, we were never fully recognized for our Chinese heritage. We’re still Americans to them, wouldn’t you agree, Meilin?”
She nodded. “I do agree. Even being raised bilingual didn’t help so much. I was better at listening, not so good at speaking. The Aunties and Uncles constantly reminded me, but at the end of two years they professed to be sad to see me go. They said I was almost like a Chinese.” The two of them laughed.
“Pretty much the same for me, but I was much younger when I went to live with relatives. I hated that my parents sent me away, but living in a smaller town really perfected my language ability.”
“Now people in Chinatown think he was Chinese born.” Meilin teased him with a twinkle in her eyes. “How did the week go?” she asked Drew.
“Pretty well. I’m still not sure I’ll ever really get the hang of it, but I’m recognizing a little more. Pronunciations are killing me.”
Professor Chung laughed. “The English accent might be hindering you a bit, but as you speak with the accent of the upper social class, it’s not as bad as if you’d been raised speaking Cockney or Welsh.”
“Or Aussie,” Meilin added.
“That darn Eton, paying off again,” Drew joked.
“What’s the joke?” Dave asked over their chuckles as he approached with a tray containing a few coffee mugs, sugar, and cream. Bob followed him with another loaded tray of mugs and a carafe. The ladies followed with trays holding plates of dessert.
“Oh,” Meilin said. “It all looks delicious. Glad I didn’t have dessert tonight.”
“Did you get dinner?” Drew asked.
“Drive-through. Egg rolls, crab rangoon, fried shrimp, and barbeque pork with a steam bun.”
“Didn’t know you could get anything other than burgers or tacos from a drive-through,” Chung said.
“New place. Not bad. A little dried out, but easier to eat than noodles whi
le driving.”
Next time he went out clubbing, Drew decided, he’d try it out.
“Field trip,” Janice said.
Coffee and dessert were passed around, and the professor led them back into speaking simple Chinese.
Eventually they moved back to the classroom to escape the noise of many other languages being practiced. The tonal sounds of Chinese were best learned in a quiet room without the competition of all the others. Although Meilin spent her time also helping Bob and Janice, she sat close to Drew. Close enough he was tormented by her perfume and the soft quality of her voice slowly repeating the vocabulary words they’d been given that morning.
Drew almost cursed his parents for not putting him in a bilingual school from the time he was three. Almost. But who would have guessed then he’d need to learn Chinese? French, Spanish, and a little Italian had been a part of his school years, all of them close enough to make learning one more a little easier. But Chinese? What had ever gotten into his head?
Near ten o’clock a large yawn stole over him. Shaking his head to clear it, he looked up to see everyone else trying to hide their yawns.
“Enough,” the professor declared. “It’s late, you’ve all studied hard this week. We won’t start until ten tomorrow. Get yourselves out for a walk, run, bike ride, or sleep in, but get some down time. We’ll pick it up then and tomorrow afternoon I have some language videos. We’ll get some culture in while letting you hear the words spoken slowly enough you may understand it.”
“No closed caption subtitles, eh?” Cindy laughed.
“Only in Chinese,” Chung quipped and was answered by good-natured groans.
Drew groaned because it meant saying good night to Meilin, again. With his eyes, he asked if he could walk her out. She nodded slightly and finished packing her briefcase before turning toward the door.
Excitement tore through him and suddenly he felt as if he could leap tall buildings. No, it wasn’t pure imagination. This woman meant something special to him. He only had to find a way to make her accept and act on the attraction between them.
Piece of cake.
Chapter 20
With Drew a few steps behind her, Meilin exited the building. At her car, she unlocked the door, and Drew took her briefcase and tossed it inside.
“Come for a walk. It helps clear the mind after a long day.”
She’d just opened her mouth to protest when her phone rang. “Excuse me.” It was Shan’s ringtone, and if she didn’t answer, well, she wasn’t sure she wanted to face an annoyed Shan in the morning.
“Hello?”
“Oh good, you’re awake,” he said. “After my fuss about you canceling on me last weekend, I really hate to do this…”
“You have to cancel this weekend?” She peeked up to see Drew grinning from ear to ear.
“Yes,” Shan said heavily. “Believe me, I’m extremely unhappy about this, but…well. No point in whining about it. I need to fly out tonight. Don’t suppose you could drive me to the airport?”
Meilin cringed and put an apology in her voice. “Arnie’s study session just let out. I’m in Palo Alto. What time is your flight?” At the thought of driving home, only to turn around and make the drive to the airport and back home again… The fact remained she was already tired from the long week.
“A lot of driving so late on Friday night, and I need to leave now. I won’t ask.” His words were mild, but his tone held an edge.
“If you let me know when your return flight arrives, maybe I can pick you up.”
“Since I don’t know exactly when I’ll be back, might be Monday, might be Wednesday, I’ll have to get back to you on that.”
“All right. Text me the details when you know. I’ll do my best to be available.”
Shan chuckled. “I like that last sentence. I was so looking forward to tomorrow. Tomorrow night. Sunday morning.” He sighed. “The wait will make it so much sweeter. I’ll change our reservations to next weekend. Will you miss me?”
“Of course. Be safe.”
“For you? Always. Text me when you’re home so I can leave with an easier mind.”
Meilin murmured her agreement, then disconnected. Her shoulders sagged and she leaned into her car, forehead against the roof.
Large, warm hands settled on her shoulders, lightly massaging. “Bad news?”
Meilin raised her head. “Depends on how you look at it.”
“Tell me.”
She dropped her head back against his shoulder. “My plans for this weekend fell through. That means I can sleep in tomorrow and spend the day in my pajamas with a carton of cottage cheese, a bag of barbeque chips, and a good book.”
“An odd combination. I have a better idea.” He took her hand, pulled her away from the car, and shut the door. “Beep it locked, will you?”
She did as he asked, then followed as he pulled her along, taking a different path than before.
“What happened?” Drew asked, pulling her up beside him.
“Leaving town on business. Flying out tonight.” A simple enough answer.
“So you’re free the entire weekend?”
“Yes.”
Drew grinned down at her in a way that lifted her heart and made her forget she was tired. “Have your day of indulgence, but not too indulgent. Let me take you out to dinner tomorrow night. Nothing stuffy, but something fun. When was the last time you played tourist down at Fisherman’s Wharf?”
Meilin laughed. “It’s been years.”
“I’m dying for some fresh seafood. Also haven’t had time to play down at Pier 39.” Drew swung their hands between them. “What d’ya say? Sound like fun?”
“But what about class?”
“I’ll take off just before dinner. That’ll give us a few hours to eat and play tourist. Please? Pick you up about five-thirty? We can talk in Chinese, and that should count for study time.”
She couldn’t help it. Drew was too adorable, too playful. When was the last time she’d played? Too long, she decided, choosing to ignore her day of sailing with Shan. That hadn’t been anything lighthearted as she felt with Drew. Still walking, she looked up at him from under her lashes. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“Maybe get a snack first from a street vendor, work our way up one side and down the other of Pier 39, then meander over to Alioto’s for some crab and shrimp. We’ll finish off the evening with a stroll along the waterfront. No set destination, no agenda, just wander where we want like real tourists. If we had all day, I’d love to take the Alcatraz tour, but…”
“If we went Sunday, we could have the whole day. If you can spare the time from your studies, that is.”
“And you’d get your day of down time.” Drew looked ahead, as if seeing something in his mind. “Okay, it’s a deal. I pick you up at ten on Sunday. We’ll do the whole day.” He focused on her once again. “For now, I want to show you a spot I know.”
It wasn’t far. Around a bend, behind a building dark for the summer, they approached a small grove of trees and bushes. And in one dark corner, a bench so private it was easy to believe they were entirely alone.
“What do you want to talk about?” she asked.
“Nothing special.” He put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to his side. It felt so perfect; she wondered if it was true two people could be specially made for each other. “Maybe I just want to be here with you. Did you ever think about that?”
She couldn’t resist his grin or the sparkle in his eyes. “You’re a bad influence.”
“But in a good way, I hope.”
Meilin chuckled and rested her head on his shoulder. “I shouldn’t be here with you. Shouldn’t be making plans.”
“Stop the guilt train right there. We’re just spending time together. Being friends.”
“I don’t usually cuddle on dark secluded benches with my friends.”
“Neither do I, but we’re a different k
ind of friend to each other. We can talk about dreams, plans, silly politicians, or last week’s art show. You can tell me about your latest job, or the most exciting one waiting for you to get to it. Tell me your philosophy on life and the state of trade relations with China. I don’t care. We can talk about anything or nothing.”
“All right then, tell me about your favorite American thing.”
“Oh, that’s easy. Actually I have a short list.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“Football, Thanksgiving dinner, sunny pools, girls in bikinis, almost anything cooked on the grill, and”—he pulled her close, staring down into her eyes—“beautiful women with jade green eyes and sweet dispositions. Now that I think about it, I have to say you’re my favorite American thing.”
The descent of his lips to hers was slow enough she could have pulled away. She should have pulled away. But the electromagnetic energy that had sparked between them from their first touch was in full force that night. A force that made it as natural as breathing to open her lips to his.
The kiss started slow. Lips brushing against lips. Air was exchanged, each one breathing in the other. One hand curled behind her neck, cradling the base of her skull. The other slid down between their bodies, the back of his fingers caressing her side to her hip, then thigh where he slipped his hand under and pulled her leg across his legs. With little urging, she scooted fully onto his lap, bringing her face even with his.
She brought her hands to his face, his golden stubble soft and prickly against her palms. His skin was warm to her touch, his jaw firm, his hair perfectly soft for tunneling her fingers into. The faded scent of his aftershave blended with his skin, making a perfume that was all Drew. He had the power to drug her senses and leave her feeling mellow and energized all at once.
Pulling her top loose from her skirt, his hands found the skin of her back, then front, one cupping her breast, the other loosening the hooks of her bra in back. “Drew,” she said on a moan.
His hands stilled. Lips still touching hers, he quietly asked, “Stop? Or more?”
She should say stop, but instead demanded, “More.”
Her Unexpected Affair (The Robinsons) Page 18