“And now, you are still trying to be the woman he wanted, by ensuring Hanson Media Group does not fold?”
Her posture straightened. She leveled him a long look, shaking her hair back a little until it rippled over her shoulders like cool moonlight. “I’m doing that to prove to myself that I’m more than just George Hanson’s trophy wife, and to make sure that my stepsons don’t lose their entire heritage because of their father’s poor judgment. Whether they like it or not, they are my family and I want them to have everything they deserve.”
“They do not know of this.” He tapped the top of the jewelry box.
She looked horrified. “Of course not. I don’t want their pity. As far as that goes, I shouldn’t have told you.”
As far as Mori was concerned, he was not entirely convinced her stepsons merited her championship. But he recognized one thing.
Helen Hanson was more deeply honorable than he would ever have believed just a short while ago. She might not describe her actions as that, but the result was the same.
She was caring for her family in whatever manner she could.
And the reasons why he should leave, immediately, were becoming harder to obey when the reasons why he should stay were gaining a strength that he could not deny.
That he did not want to deny.
Chapter Ten
“It has been a day of revelation,” Mori murmured, taking a step toward her and feeling a jolt of satisfaction when she made a nervous movement as a result.
Helen’s hand tightened over the lapels of her robe, holding them together. But her green eyes were not afraid.
He realized he had never seen her truly afraid of anything and it, too, was a heady realization.
He closed his hands over her shoulders. She was slender, but he did not have a sense that she was fragile. “You need to sleep,” he reminded.
Her chin lifted a little. “So do you.”
When had he thought her voice was not musical? Her low words stroked over his nerves with a mellow tone.
He smoothed his hand down her hair. “You do not often wear your hair down.”
Her eyes nearly closed, and her head pressed against his palm, like a cat unconsciously seeking petting.
“It’s easier pulled back.”
He slowly threaded his fingers through the strands. It was thick. Smooth and silky and infinitely pale against his hand. “I have dreamed of you.”
Her lips parted and he saw another swallow work down her throat. “You…have?”
“That surprises you? It should not. You have been consuming my thoughts much longer than I wish to admit.”
Her lips curved. “How long?”
“Always wanting to clarify the details.”
“That would be me,” she agreed. Her fingers slid inside his shirt collar. Rested against his pulse that beat heavily, only to move again, finding a button and toying with it.
“I have wanted you from the beginning,” he admitted.
She made a soft sound. Of disagreement?
“I believed I could want and not touch, however, until the night Kimiko made her hair pink. At dinner.”
“We did nothing but have dinner that evening.”
“You asked when, not why.”
She lifted her lashes, slanting a look up at him. “How is it that you can get me to want to laugh, after a day like this has been?”
“Laughing is good,” he murmured, “but it is not my specific goal at the moment.”
“And you are a goal-oriented man.”
“Hai.”
She continued toying with his button. He wondered how long she intended to torment him in such a manner.
“If I might ask, what is your specific goal?”
He flattened his hand over her tantalizing fingertips, stilling them against his chest. “You.”
Her eyes darkened. “We have established that isn’t a wise decision.”
He traced the lapel of her robe from her neck, down the slope of her breast to the belt that was, even now, falling loose. “I am thinking right now that wisdom is rated too highly.”
She moistened her lips. Swallowed. “Is that so?”
He slowly pulled the loop of her belt free. The thick white terry cloth began to part.
She caught his wrists in her hands. “Mori.”
She was shaking. He frowned. “You do not wish this.”
“No!” She shook her head, her cheeks turning pink. “I—I do. Really. It’s just—I haven’t—” She raked her fingers through her hair, holding it back from her face. “I’m sorry. I’m a grown woman, I should be better at this. But I told you. George and I didn’t…hadn’t…it…it’s just been a while,” she finished in a rush. “A really long while.”
He slid his hands along her jaw, cupping her face. She was blushing and he wanted her more than ever. “Are you in need of a refresher course?”
She stared at him for a moment, seemingly speechless. Then a soft smile touched her lips. “Perhaps I am. Sensei is the word for teacher?”
“It has a wider reference, but yes.”
“Sensei,” she repeated. Her fingers returned to his shirt collar, sliding over it, then under it and his skin heated wherever her gliding grazed. “So…refresh me.”
He tilted her chin up, lowering his head toward hers. “First, there is the touch.” He slipped his fingers beneath the thick skein of pale hair and touched the nape of her neck. Drew his fingertip down the line of her spinal cord. She trembled against him, her own fingers faltering unsteadily.
“Mori.” His name sounded like a soft ache in her husky voice. “The…light?”
He had no desire to turn off the single lamp burning near the bed. “Second is the kiss,” he continued and kissed the corner of her eye.
Her lashes fluttered like butterfly wings against his lips. “But—”
“Why do you wish to hide in the dark, Helen?” He kissed the high curve of her cheekbone.
“I don’t hide,” she defended, arching against him when his hand slid over the robe as he explored the long length of her back.
“You wish the darkness,” he murmured against her ear before he caught her unadorned earlobe between his lips.
Her head twisted against his shoulder, her fingers knotting in his shirt. “I wish I were a decade or two younger,” she muttered. “Oh.” She moaned softly when he pressed his mouth against the side of her neck.
He pulled at the sleeve of her robe and it slid unimpeded, over her shoulder, falling down to her bent elbow. He lifted his head to study his work. If she knew the way he had to work to form thoughts when he would rather just stare at the perfection before him, she would never make such a comment.
He drew her head up from where it was pressed against his shoulder. He caught a flash of vulnerability in her eyes before her lashes swept down, hiding it. “I have no desire to be with a girl twenty years younger than me. I wish a partner who matches me. I wish for you.”
She caught her lip between her teeth. He tsked and rubbed his thumb over the tiny spot and felt her indrawn breath when she dragged in a breath.
“What is the third thing to remember?”
“The heart.”
She drew one of her palms down the center of his chest to rest over his heart. “You are a romantic,” she whispered. “Who would have thought it?”
“I am a man and I want a woman,” he corrected huskily. He mimicked her actions, drawing his hand down the center of her chest until he felt her heartbeat racing against his palm. The robe fell off her other shoulder, fully baring her body to him.
She wasn’t an ivory candle, slender and tall and unlit.
She was golden and warm and wherever, whenever he touched, she seemed to glow.
And he ached.
“I think it’s coming back to me,” she said huskily, and covered his hand with hers, sliding her fingers between his for a moment, then retreating to his wrist for a moment, only to return to his fingers. Her heart raced beneath their
joined hands and she shifted slightly, her gaze on his face as she drew his hand over the swell of her breast. Her lips parted, her gaze flickering.
His hand tightened on her breast, circled the rigid peak that rose greedily to his touch, then his taste.
Her head fell forward again, her cool hair sliding over them both. “Take me to bed, Mori,” she whispered.
He kicked aside her robe and pulled her tightly against him.
She inhaled sharply. “You know I like things to be fair.” Her hands worked between them to tear at his shirt buttons.
He caught her lips with his, helping her and in moments, his clothes were a thing of the past.
Her arms clung around his shoulders as he backed her to the bed, following her down. Her hair streamed around them and her eyes glowed in the soft light.
“Let me see if I remember, now. Touch.” She dragged her fingertips down the length of his spine and a faint smile touched her lips when he let out a low breath.
“Hai.”
Her knee slowly slid along his thigh. She pressed her mouth against his chest, tasting him. “Kiss.”
“Hai.” He caught her head in his hands and kissed her deeply.
The green of her eyes turned glassy when he lifted his head and staring into them, he slid against her. She made a soft sound, her arms tightening against him. Her legs tangled with his. “Please. My heart can’t take teasing.”
“No teasing,” he promised, and slowly, inexorably pressed into her.
She moaned his name and he exhaled roughly, curving over her. But she lifted herself against him, removing any protective distance he would have created between him and her slender body, which was already quaking against him.
She was welcoming and warm, and female to male, and if he’d held any notion of control, it was suddenly lost.
His hands found her hips and he sank deeply.
She cried out and held him even closer, twining herself around him. “Yes,” she gasped. “Yes.”
Then the lapping waves of her shuddering pleasure became a tidal wave that dragged him under.
And he was drowning with her, for nothing in life had ever prepared him for a woman like Helen.
Helen overslept the next morning.
It wasn’t until she heard the heavy pounding on her hotel room door that she finally opened her eyes and stared at the empty pillow next to hers on the bed.
The tumbled covers helped assure her that she hadn’t merely dreamed of Mori.
Not this time.
He hadn’t stayed the rest of the night, which wasn’t much of a night, given the dawn light that had been slipping around the window drapes when he left.
She’d wanted him to stay. But it was simply too foolhardy for him to do so.
Knowing it didn’t make her miss him any less, however.
Another pounding rattled the door from the living area. She heard the muffled sound of her name being called.
Feeling lazy and not entirely rested, she glanced at the clock on the bedside table.
The time finally registered.
“Oh, hell.” She jumped out of the bed, grabbing up the robe that was lying on the floor. She was just tying the sash when she reached the door.
A glance through the peephole revealed Jack’s face, his expression as thunderous as his pounding.
She opened the door, already turning away before he could step inside. “Give me ten minutes, and I’ll be ready to go.”
“Jesus, Helen.” He entered the suite behind her, slamming the door. “I thought something was wrong!”
First Andrew’s concern and now Jack’s. Oh, they were such surprising men.
“I’m fine,” she assured. “I just overslept.” She raced into the bedroom, closing the door behind her. The shower water wasn’t even warm before she was jumping back out of it and toweling off. She flipped on the blow dryer, directing it through her hair long enough that she could pin it into a chignon without looking like a wet cat, and forced herself to slow down enough to apply some makeup without smearing mascara or lipstick over her face. She didn’t seem to need much color, anyway. Her lips were pinker than usual. Fuller than usual, too.
Thinking about the reason for that slowed her movements when she had no time to spare, so she just would not think about it.
But every movement she made as she stepped into an ivory-colored suit made a mockery of that particular vow.
There wasn’t a part of her that didn’t bear the memory of Mori’s touch.
She shoved her feet into her shoes and went back out to join Jack. “I’m sorry. I just need my briefcase.”
He picked it up off the table where she’d left it and handed it to her. “I thought you always left a wake-up call.”
“I do.” She took the case from him and headed for the door. The last thing she wanted was for Jack to begin speculating. “I didn’t sleep much last night.” That was true enough. “I guess I slept through the call this morning.”
“And Samantha’s when I couldn’t get you to answer the door?”
“Evidently. Oh. My room key.” She glanced around. The small credit-card-size piece of plastic was on the coffee table.
Next to Mori’s glass from the night before.
Worse, it was within a foot of Mori’s jacket, laying on the end of the couch. Jack had to have noticed it.
She snatched up the key and turned back to the door. Her feet dragged to a halt, though, at Jack’s low voice.
“Whose jacket is that?”
“Mine,” she lied blatantly, and grabbed his arm, hustling him out the door, which she slammed behind her.
“Right. Looks like it’d fit you, too, Helen, if you grew about half a foot and gained about sixty pounds.” He caught her arm, stopping her in her tracks. “Who was here?”
She gave him a long look. The elevator door slid open beside them. “Actually, Jack, that isn’t your business.”
“Dammit, Helen, Samantha and I were concerned.”
“And I appreciate it,” she said sincerely. “But there is nothing to be concerned about. Now let’s get to this meeting. Obviously, you got the message from TAKA.”
“A courier brought by a schedule last night after we got back from Jenny and Richard’s.”
Mori hadn’t mentioned a schedule. She punched the button for the lobby floor and the elevator began its dizzying descent.
“It was Mori Taka, wasn’t it?”
She swallowed. “He came to tell me what happened at the board meeting.”
“And left his jacket.”
“Is that so unlikely?”
“Why did he take it off in the first place?”
“For pity’s sake, Jack. This isn’t the Inquisition. The man came to speak with me. I offered him a drink. Do you think it was easy for him to face that meeting yesterday? His own father was trying to undermine him.” She shot him a look. “You of all people should have some sympathy over that.”
His expression only tightened. “You never change, do you, Helen? One wealthy husband is out of the way, so you’re looking for another? I really thought I might have been wrong about you before, but I wasn’t, was I? I’ll give you credit, though. At least this one isn’t old enough to be your damned father, and he could buy and sell Hanson Media several times over. Nice work.”
He might as well have slapped her.
She stared hard at the number display but his anger was a physical thing sucking all the oxygen out of the small space. She actually felt dizzy.
“I haven’t given up everything I’ve worked for to see the deal go down the tubes because you and Mori can’t keep your hands off each other. The man’s not going to be interested in you forever, you know. You’re an American, for God’s sake, and he’s about as Japanese as they come.”
The elevator doors opened and Jack stepped off.
She followed him slowly, vaguely surprised that he’d bothered to keep the taxi waiting for her. Without a word, she climbed in beside him.
&nbs
p; The drive to the TAKA building had never seemed to take so long.
Wasn’t it the height of irony that in finding one night—not even an entire night, for that matter—of happiness with a man, she would end up losing what little progress she’d made with the family that had never wanted her, anyway?
She could feel Jack’s sidelong look and deliberately pulled out her leather portfolio and flipped it open to her notes.
She didn’t read a single word of them.
The meeting ran through lunch, which was brought in on several rolling carts and distributed around the conference table.
It was Italian food, and the sight of the lasagna, garlic bread and green salad made Helen want to laugh.
Hysterically.
Mori had not said one word personally to her since the moment he’d entered the room and taken his place at the head of the table.
He’d barely looked at her, for that matter.
Jack, however, seemed to be looking from Mori to her and back again. She didn’t need a degree in rocket science to interpret the “I told you so” look in Jack’s eyes when he happened to catch her gaze.
She jabbed her fork into a lettuce leaf and ignored all of the men surrounding her.
The lunch break was mercifully brief, and the meeting resumed.
About a hundred years later, it concluded.
Helen tucked her pen in her portfolio and closed it, pushing back from the table.
Mori cast her an inscrutable look.
Well, she’d known that their relationship would remain private, hadn’t she?
It wasn’t as if he could go around crowing that he’d slept with Helen Hanson, after all. Mori’s father might have recanted his accusation, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t put it forward yet again. Or that someone else within TAKA couldn’t do it for him.
Still, the complete lack of acknowledgment in Mori’s demeanor toward her hurt. He was even cooler to her than he had been at the very beginning.
As if such a thing were possible.
She squared her shoulders, though, and looked around the occupants of the room as they began pushing back from the table. “Have a good evening, gentlemen. I look forward to tomorrow.”
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