by Azure Boone
“I see you don’t drink either. Two glasses of wine, and you’re drunk.” I snorted out a laugh. “Oh, I drink.” I leaned and whispered in his ear. “And I screw people. Men.
Sexy men.”
“Where are you parked?” he asked, holding me up on the sidewalk outside.
“Wow, that was some really good wine.” I sucked in a breath at all the Christmas decorations and lights. “How beautiful. Like a dream. What kind of wine was that again?”
“Where are you parked, Anna?” he repeated.
I regarded him. “You already asked that.” I glanced around and pointed at the SUV across the street.
“There I am.”
He led me across, and my damned heel got caught on God only knew what. His arm wrapped my waist and pulled me against him. “I hate these sorry excuses for shoes.” I hiccupped. “Torture devices are what they are. They’re the most idiotic creations. And how much you wanna bet”—I pointed in his face
—“that a man came up with the stupid idea of high heels?”
“Actually, no, a woman did.”
Holding on to the SUV, I snorted as he opened the door. “I don’t believe you.”
“That’s fine. Anna.”
I plopped unladylike into the seat and looked at him. “You know what? Could you call me…Sarah?
For short?”
He peered in at me, holding the frame of the Jeep. “Sarah? Short for Anna?”
“Mmhm.” I nodded, staring at him. “Gosh, you’re so cute.”
He glanced right and smiled, then shook his head. “Okay. Sarah.” The door whomped shut. I watched him gracefully walk to the driver’s side and get in. “And I bet if a woman did make the first heels, then she did it for a man.”
“Oh, you think?” He moved my hand and helped me with my seat belt.
“Most definitely.” I leaned toward him. “Mmm, you smell amazing. Men are at the bottom of all stupid decisions women make.”
The seat belt clicked, and he raised his head, putting our faces close. My heart raced, and the butterflies soared. I stared at his lips. How would they feel on mine? They were so full, his mouth broad.
He started the SUV and pulled out into traffic.
Ugh. I took the stupid shoes off, then rolled down the window. And tossed them out.
“What are you doing?” he asked incredulously.
“What I shoulda done all along. I shoulda worn sneakers and jeans. Not all this malarkey. I’m not made for this crap.” I hiccupped, put a foot on the dashboard, and rested my head back with a sigh. “I’m a country girl, Tang.”
“Tong.”
“Mmm, yeah. Tongue.”
Fifteen minutes later, and—wow—we were already walking into the suite. “You know what, I’d like another drink. Wanna drink with me?”
He turned from locking the door and walked past me. “Definitely a virgin,” he murmured.
Oh, no, he did not. I marched to the wet bar and got my own damned drink. Wasn’t wine, but it was a nice gold, happy color. I poured a little glass, then took a giant gulp. The burn down my throat was unbearable, and I coughed. “Shhhit, that was nasty.” I put the glass down and frowned at the room. “Hey.” I found him facing the giant wall of windows in the next room. “Where’s all the Christmas decorations?
Why doesn’t your room have any?”
“Because I don’t celebrate Christmas.”
What? “Why on earth not?”
I saw his eyes roll in the window reflection. “Do you celebrate Obon?”
“O-what?”
He left the window and breezed past me. I followed his liger gait to the hallway leading to his bedroom. “It’s a Japanese holiday,” he mumbled before disappearing.
Japanese holiday? I snorted. Like Christmas? Yeah right, Mr. Japanese Scrooge. Oh well. I grinned at the paradise around me, still gorgeous all the same. I twirled in the middle of the sitting room between the kitchen and the living room, then continued the gracious ballet to my private abode. I went through all the boxes, seeing what goodies awaited. I sucked in my breath at finding a black sheer gown. Ohhhh, Anna? What on earth did she have planned? Was she going to seduce this guy?
Well. I was Anna. I got undressed, then remembered that amazing tub. A luxurious bath was just what I needed. I traipsed in with my sheer gown and turned on the water. Bubbles! I poured a quarter of the container in, wanting a cartoon-sized bubble bath.
“Ohhhh, yes!” I sank down into the cloud of heaven. Must’ve been whiskey I’d drunk. Damn, it worked well. Mmm, I felt so free and smart.
Fifteen minutes, and I was bored with my bubble bath. I got out and promptly slipped on the tile and busted my ass.
I moaned, pain shooting in my butt with every breath. The bathroom door flew open. “Sarah!” Tong snatched a towel from the nearby bar and threw it at me, keeping his back to me. “Are you hurt?” he growled.
“Just…my butt.”
“No more drink for you.”
“I can drink if I want,” I moaned, getting the towel around me.
He turned and helped me up, then walked me to my room.
“Wait, my…my gown’s in there. I need it.”
“I’ll get it. Just sit here before you kill yourself.”
I sat on the bed. “Fine. You get it.”
He brought it to me and tossed it on the bed. “Don’t you have normal sleeping attire?” I grabbed the black sheer. “This is normal.” I fought to get it over my head, trying to hold my towel up too.
“God, woman,” he muttered, helping me.
I giggled when he was done, and stood, letting the towel fall. I spun in a slow circle only to stumble into him. That was when it hit me. He had no shirt on. So warm, smelled so good. Tasted good. He pushed me off him and sat me on the bed.
“You’re drunk. Stop.”
I tried to laugh, but he was all gorgeous, standing there, distracting me. I knew only one thing at that point. This man—this godly, glorious, hunky, delicious man—would be my first.
“You were right.” My voice went husky as I raked my gaze over his chest, before boldly leveling it on his. “I am a virgin.” There. I said it. I’d actually said it.
Wasn’t so bad.
I waited for him to make the move. He came to me and scooped me up in his arms. I held his neck, staring into his eyes—eyes so mysterious and masked. My heart throbbed. He presented his hard jaw and profile as he walked to the side of the bed and laid me down. My breath quickened as he burned his gaze down my front, then back up to meet mine. “You’re beautiful.” His voice sounded hoarse. He lowered his face to mine…and kissed my forehead. “And you’re drunk.”
He walked out. He just walked the hell out.
I lay there, frustrated. That bastard. How dare he? I wasn’t good enough, apparently. Drunk! What a pathetic excuse. He was a man, goddammit; men were supposed to want to screw virgins!
I marched out and stormed to his room, then gave his door a nice, long, obnoxious knock.
He opened it, and I jabbed my finger at him. “I am not that drunk. I know what I want. And I want it with you.”
“You don’t know what you want.”
I couldn’t believe this. “Are you gay?” How could he just stand there with a half-naked woman before him and appear…bored!
Then it finally dawned on me. Oh shit, did it ever dawn on me. Oh. My. God. I forced a stiff laugh, furious with the sudden tears that blurred my vision. “Wow, sorry. I…I mis…I misread…” I shook my head and hurried off, struggling to breathe.
I got to my room and remembered there was no lock. I went to the bathroom, locked the door and sank to the floor. An avalanche of need and want crashed through me. I swallowed and groaned at how much it hurt, putting my hands over my stomach, pressing the ache back. But it refused to go. It just grew larger and larger, pushing against my chest. What had I done? I’d ruined everything. Threw myself like a slut at a very important man. A wave of pain surged as that expression on his fa
ce flashed in my mind. He wasn’t just bored. He was embarrassed. That he had to deal with such harassment. Sexual harassment! I covered my mouth with a hand, feeling the sob coming. Couldn’t let it come. It’d never stop.
Chapter Four
I woke to a hand on my shoulder, shaking me lightly, and managed to pry my eyes open. “Coffee.” Tong set the delicate china on the table next to my bed and turned to go. “I want to talk to you as soon as you get dressed.”
Everything crashed in on me in one devastating wave, ending dead center in my chest. I almost vomited right there. His tone had been so casual. “Okay, I’ll…be there in five minutes.” I got dressed, feeling like somebody had died. I shook my head, denying the tears threatening. It was me—I had died. Still was dying, in fact.
How did this happen? How could I let this happen? First day out of the cage, and I was running like a rabid animal wanting to screw the first thing in sight. He’d probably sue. Fear and humiliation twisted my gut. I just wanted to lie in bed, curl up in a ball, and go back to sleep. Pretend I was back at home and I’d never come to stupid New York.
I went to the bathroom, paused at the mirror, and stared at the whore. Two swollen, red-rimmed eyes stared back at me; the careful makeup of the night before now ran down my cheeks in inky trails. My blonde hair was a rat’s nest of tangles. He’d seen me like that. How disgusted he must be.
I brushed my teeth, my hair, washed my face, and hid the evidence of my sins with makeup.
I found him sitting in the living room, reading a newspaper like nothing had happened. Must have been nice to have such steel resolve. I thought of Anna. Sick and counting on me. I shoved my pity party into the backseat and poured myself more coffee. Taking one of the seats across from him, I cleared my throat. “Look, I understand whatever decision you’ve made. I just want you to know, before you say it, that I’m…” I swallowed hard and forced myself to look him in the eye for the apology. “I’m sorry for what I’ve done. That wasn’t me. I mean…it was me. I’m not trying to deny what I wanted.” God, I was digging my grave deeper. “If you want to sue, please just sue me. I don’t want my company to get hurt over my actions.” There. I took a sip of steaming coffee just to have something to hide behind.
His eyes brewed with…with what? He was so pensive, so harsh looking. “Did you mean it?” His words were hard.
“Mean what?”
“What you said last night.”
I chewed my lip. “I said…a lot of things.”
“Are you really a virgin?”
What? Why did that even matter? I lowered my gaze. “Yes.”
“Did you mean the other thing you said?” His words were harder.
I closed my eyes and set the cup down. Think of Anna. Save this if you can. But I couldn’t lie. Not about that. “Yes.”
He lunged off the couch, grabbed my hand, and pulled me up so fast my body slammed against his.
I could only gasp.
He stared into my wide eyes for a coldhearted eternity. I wanted to look away from the storm there.
The hardness of his lips. The bad it all meant. But I couldn’t.
“Don’t ever…say that to me again. Or you will be sorry.”
My heart ached between sorrow and relief. I glanced left and nodded several times. Stupid tears.
My stomach jolted when his thumb stroked over the streaming tears running down my face. Then he walked away, leaving me dizzy from his smell and touch. “Get ready,” he mumbled on the way out. “I have a lot of work to do.”
I stood dazed as relief and horror raced through me. I’d accepted that he’d fire me. And I hadn’t thought of what it’d feel like if he didn’t. The shame. He would force me to endure it. Did he know that would be more unbearable? Of course he did. He was Japanese. Everything was about integrity and swords and dying with honor and suffering humility for your sins. At least that was how they portrayed it in the movies.
Integrity. Honor. Honesty. Did I even know what those words meant? Maybe once. Maybe yesterday, even. Which felt like forever ago. But I would endure. For Anna’s sake…I would.
* * * *
The itinerary trembled in my hands, the sound of the shower distracting me. No, the thought of him in the shower distracted me.
Muscular, tanned flesh rebelliously licked through my mind. I hardened my jaw. Why did he have to be so gorgeous? Those damned eyes were the worst. No, his mouth. No, no, the way he used both. I remembered that dimple when he smiled. Definitely his biggest weapon. And his hair. The way it hung around his face, so rugged, so sexy and masculine and…
Focus!
I buried the thoughts with a determined huff, concentrating on the day’s events and how I had no clue what they were at this point. He seemed to have his mind made up about everything anyway.
He walked into the spacious living room and headed to the open kitchen like a panther. My eyes glued themselves to his body. Jeans. Only jeans.
I looked up, and my harloty gaze locked on his stormy one. Shame burned through my limbs and came out in sputters of awkward twitching and wordless syllables. He glanced down at his cup, pouring his tea.
I cleared my throat. “Would you like…me to call your limo and…”
“No. You’ll be taking me.”
Me. Dammit. “Okay. And where would you like to go?”
He snatched up the newspaper from the counter and peered at it. “I want to spend the first half of the day seeing the city.” He headed toward the hall.
The idea of having to do that was nearly unbearable. “You know, Mr. Tong, I would certainly understand if you wanted to call my agency and get…”
He stopped and pierced me with those hard eyes. “I am very aware, Ms. Shelby, of what I can and cannot do. I didn’t hire you to counsel me on my decisions. I hired you to tour me around your city. If you don’t mind, I’d like you to focus, if you can, on doing just your job.”
“Of course.” My ears burned with his careful words “if you can” and “just your job.” He walked off. “Today will be casual. Bring extra clothes and your swimsuit. I have to meet with a business associate at his home.”
Swimsuit? It was the middle of December! Did I even have one? Surely Anna would never dream of… Oh, yes, she would. You needed swimsuits for hot tubs. Images of me sitting in a hot tub with naked men doing business knotted my guts. But Mr. Tong was clearly not into women. Don’t flatter yourself.
You. He’s not into you.
I hurried into the bedroom and searched the boxes, nearly swooning when I came across a one-piece.
White. With a sheer skirt. Great, white on white. I snagged it up, rushed to the closet, and picked a pair of delicate white sandals. I found a pink tote and stuffed everything in it.
Casual. Did that mean jeans? Not for me. I doubted it. I read the tags on the line of hanging bags and
—whaddaya know—one read casual.
Thank goodness Anna had known what to expect, or I would be more doomed than I already was.
Casual for me was cream-colored slacks, low black pumps, and a long-sleeved black cashmere top.
Like a damned grandmother. I checked my figure in the mirror and realized not a grandmother, but a sophisticated woman. Now all I had to do was act like one.
* * * *
We had breakfast in the lavish hotel restaurant. Fancier than the oriental place we’d eaten at the night before. Or he’d eaten at, rather. Which explained my ravenous appetite that I couldn’t indulge without ruining the sophisticated act. I nibbled ladylike on the perfectly prepared food, and all too soon, my head told my stomach it was full. I argued the point to no avail as Mr. Tong ate like a beast. A glorious god beast, but damn, did he put it away. I’d love to cook a homemade meal for him.
What? Shut. Up.
Next was an easy con-job tour through New York City to help smooth matters over. I could do this crap. I could.
“I’m thinking a trip down Fifth Avenue is in order.” I tried to hide the giddy
excitement that brought me. “I think it will give you the best feel of what New York City is all about.” His gaze went lazily from my eyes to my mouth and back to my eyes. Was there food on my chin? I wiped it with my napkin.
“You lead, Ms. Shelby. I follow.”
Nice to have his cooperation, stoic or not. “Okay, Mr. Tong. Sounds like a plan.” I had the streets memorized by now. Pretty much. All we had to do was walk north till we got to Fifth Avenue and left or right; it didn’t matter. Either way throbbed with the spice of New York life. I spent the first thirty minutes pointing out the obvious to an aloof and bored Mr. Scrooge. And here we have a shoe shop…and oh, look, an accessory shop for when you need accessories…nice plant nursery…fancy jeweler…and oh, wow, look, it’s the Empire State Building . “Ah, look. Pouparts. New York’s finest desserts. How ’bout we try one? Get a coffee?”
“We just ate breakfast. Are you hungry already?” Like I was being a glutton.
“Well, it just so happens that I have two stomachs. One for good food and one for desserts.” I fought to keep my smile bright and cheery, but the uninviting look on his face didn’t budge.
“Come on, Mr. Tong!” I nudged his arm with a fist. “Relax. Have a little fun.”
“I would if it were interesting.”
Just remain pleasant. “Well, it might be if you just put in a little effort? Show a little holiday spirit?”
His brows furrowed with a slight, humorless smile. “How is it you keep forgetting that I don’t celebrate your Christmas?”
What? I mentally rummaged through his pertinent-information file and came up empty. “Wow, I must’ve…overlooked that. So sorry.” Had he told me before? When I was drunk, maybe? Slivers of awful memory danced in my head. “I had no idea Japanese people didn’t celebrate Christmas. How sad. I mean, not sad.” I chuckled a little. “Sad for me. To have to spend this time of year in the city best known for its Christmas spirit.” Dig that grave deeper, Sarah. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to sound so devastated.”
“I didn’t say Japanese don’t celebrate Christmas. I said I don’t.” I nodded slowly, trying to see how that made it any less sad. “Well, I hope you don’t mind that I celebrate it.” I took a deep breath of Christmas air. “Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve always loved Christmas. Even though we didn’t have money, Momma always made it special. I’d find stuff around the house to wrap up and put under the trees just to pretend we had a lot of presents.” I laughed at the memory. “We’d make paper chains and decorate the tree, but Momma always saved enough money to buy those boxes of icicles, and I’d hang them everywhere and pretend my whole house was a Christmas wonderland.” I gazed around. “And here, in New York City, it’s like the best Christmas place ever.