by Reese, Jenn
"We're in for quite a ride," Ian whispered. He extended his elbow, and Shan slipped her arm in his, letting her hand rest softly on the sleeve of his shirt. The touch of his body seemed to ground her, help her find her balance again.
"Hope you don't get motion sick," she grinned.
"Archaeologists are immune to such trifles," he countered. "It's all in the brochure."
Just then, a door opened from the right side of room, and a woman walked out. Trim, blonde, and probably mid-thirties, she wore a skirted black suit and walked with the confidence of a professional.
"Ashton likes his employees as beautiful as his artifacts, it seems," Shan whispered to Ian. He didn't answer. Shan looked at him and saw his eyes wide, his mouth twisting into a smile.
"Rachel?" he said.
The woman grinned, revealing a row of perfect white teeth. "Ian!"
Shan pulled her arm away from Ian just as the woman joined them and planted a lingering kiss on Ian's cheek.
"Ian Dashell," the woman said, smiling, "did we ever actually break up?"
CHAPTER 11
Ian pulled himself away from the woman. "Rachel Sexton, this is my friend, Shawna Westin. Shawna, this is Rachel."
"It's a pleasure," said Rachel, extending her hand.
Shan shook it. "It certainly is, Ms. Sexton," Shan said. "Ian speaks of you often."
This seemed to surprise Ian slightly, but Shan just smiled. Well, he had mentioned her back at his house in New York. Of course, he'd been mostly unconscious at the time.
"Is that so?" Rachel said, turning back to Ian. "I didn't know you were still carrying a torch, Dash. How flattering!" Ian shot Shan a dark look, but she just smiled and blinked her eyelashes. "Oh, but the guest registry listed Mr. and Mrs. Dashell. I had assumed that was your parents, Dash, or are you and Shawna more than just friends?"
Oh, great, thought Shan. Rachel was as direct as she was beautiful. They had planned on masquerading as a married couple, but as Rachel knew Ian--and apparently quite well--the story might be harder to maintain.
"We're, uh, engaged," Ian said.
Rachel's gaze went immediately to Shan's left hand, and the notable absence of a ring.
"Recently engaged," Ian added. "The ring is getting appraised."
Rachel nodded, seemingly appeased. "Well, let me just get Mr. Chiang over here to take care of these other guests, and I'll give you two a private tour." She put her hand on Ian's arm.
"We'd love a private tour," said Ian, emphasizing the "we" part a little too obviously, in Shan's opinion, though she appreciated the thought. "I can't wait to get a better look at this place. And to figure out how you landed this gig. Right place at the right time?"
"Hell, no!" Rachel said. "I fought tooth and nail for this job. Private investors are the best thing that ever happened to our field. Just wait until you see this place! You'll be kissing that university of yours good-bye and signing on for lifetime tour."
"I'm feeling a bit tired after the trip," Shan said, "I think I'll take a nap. You two go ahead."
"Well, I guess you're not an archaeologist," Rachel said, smiling. "Dash and I were always energized by long trips. Remember our first trip to Tenochtitlán? We checked in at the site, then went out drinking with the dig crew until dawn. What was the name of that dive where we ended up?"
"El Gato Gris," Ian laughed. "Worst tequila in the world."
"Not that you could tell after the first shot," Rachel said.
"But at least I didn't start dancing on the table and telling the bartender he looked guapo."
"Actually, I think you did," Rachel countered.
Ian winced. "Oh, yeah. That was me."
The two of them laughed. Shan smiled and tried to ignore the sudden pang of...what? Jealousy? Yes, Rachel Sexton was beautiful and smart, and could apparently speak Spanish and hold her liquor... But Shan didn't actually feel threatened by her. At the Jade Circle, girls and women saw each other as sisters, not rivals. If Ian chose to pursue a relationship of some sort with Rachel Sexton, then that would be Ian's choice.
Of course, Shan hoped things didn't progress that way. True, she and Ian had never discussed their growing relationship. They'd never mentioned commitment, exclusivity, or the future. But, all the same, if she found Ian making out with his ex, there wouldn't be a future for them. Shan didn't share her men, even if the tiger would allow such a thing.
So the pang, Shan guessed, was more for a shared past that she was no part of. Shan wanted to see Ian get drunk and silly and dance on tables. She wanted to see him digging pits and studying artifacts and doing whatever else archaeologists do. Rachel Sexton had seen him do these things.
And for that she could be jealous.
Rachel used a walkie-talkie to summon Mr. Chiang, an older Chinese gentleman in a sharp black suit. Ian looked at Shan, a question in his eyes. He said, "Have a good nap, sweetie."
Shan grinned. "I will, darling. You two enjoy your shop talk." She leaned up and kissed him quickly on the mouth--more quickly than she wanted, but just the right amount for a fiancé, she guessed. Despite its speed, the kiss held enough power to tickle Shan's spine. Later, she thought. Later, she would kiss him as herself instead of Shawna.
"I'll bring him back in one piece, I promise," Rachel said. Then she took his arm and whisked him away toward a distant hallway.
Mr. Chiang led Shan and the other guests to their rooms. Shan and Ian had landed the Horse Suite in the Zodiac wing. Fitting, Shan thought, since she suspected that Ian had been born in the year of the horse. With his nobility and penchant for travel, it was almost a sure thing.
Fortunately, the room's theme never veered into tacky. A huge king-sized bed almost covered in pillows of gold and red silk sat on a platform at one end of the suite. A desk with a laptop and phone occupied the main part of the suite, along with a comfy sofa, table, and two wide over-stuffed chairs. The walls were lined with paintings of horses. Many were Chinese, their stark black lines evoking power and grace and the illusion of movement, but other styles were represented as well.
The real show stopper in the room, however, was the hot tub. Tucked into the back corner of the suite, it looked more like a natural hot spring than a tub. Water poured out of a crack in the ceiling and trickled down the rock-faced walls and into the pool. A gentle mist clung to the water, giving the alcove an almost magical aura.
Shan could barely resist the urge to rip off her clothes and dive in. On second thought, screw the clothes. They'd dry soon enough.
But, in the end, her willpower won.
Shan pulled herself away from the grotto and read through the paperwork on the desk. The only event listed for Wednesday was the welcome dinner at six. As it was now almost five, she'd only have a few minutes to snoop around before heading to the big event. Shan leafed through pages describing Thursday's martial arts and research presentations until she found a map.
Shan whistled. The place was even bigger than she'd thought, with four full guest wings and many sections marked "private." The auction items weren't scheduled to be unveiled until Friday, but Shan wanted to find the animals as soon as possible. If she found them today, they might be able to stow away on one of the ships delivering passengers.
Someone knocked on the door. Shan answered, and one of Ashton's servants came in with their bags. Perfect timing. Shan tipped the man, switched into a quieter pair of shoes, and headed off to explore.
The fortress, for all its size, buzzed with activity. Shan passed dozens of servants, guests, and other official-looking people as she walked through the hallways toward the "private" area closest to the auction display room. With all the activity, she only had to wait a few minutes before she had the opportunity to slip behind the thick red curtain covering the passageway.
The ubiquitous wall sconces were only dimly lit, casting just enough of a glow for Shan to see where she was walking. It seemed to be a portrait gallery. Picture after picture hung in elaborate frames along both walls. Shan wal
ked softly down the hallway, looking for security devices or anything unusual about the paintings. The floor seemed devoid of dust, meaning the area was obviously used or at least cleaned regularly.
Shan passed one portrait that, even in the darkness, seemed familiar. She stepped closer and squinted, wishing she had brought a flashlight.
It was Bruce Lee.
Shan smiled. She moved on and saw scientists, historians, and other martial artists, all of which were labeled in both Chinese and English. The hallway ended in a large, arched alcove containing just two paintings.
The first, labeled "Malcolm Ashton," depicted a Caucasian man in his sixties wearing a very British suit. There was a hardness to his eyes, as well... It amazed Shan that the artist had managed to capture such a look.
So this, then, was Victor Ashton's father.
Shan turned to examine the other picture and felt her heart skip a beat. The Chinese woman had been painted in her twenties and wore a beautiful blue cheongsam embroidered with flowers.
Victor Ashton's mother had been a member of the Jade Circle.
Shan studied the face again. She had known Li Jiang as a quiet woman in her fifties, polite and careful with her words. Jiang had never mentioned any sons, though Shan had certainly never asked. Li Jiang had been one of the first to fall when the sanctuary was attacked.
"Can I help you with something?"
Shan gasped and spun around. She almost brought her hands up into a fighting pose, but pulled herself back at the last second. Shawna Westin was no fighter.
"No, I..."
It was Victor Ashton.
Shan wouldn't have been able to recognize him before seeing the portraits, but his parentage was present in every crease in his face. Like Shan, he had Western eyes in shape and color, only his were a bright, startling blue. He wore his dark hair long and straight, though it had started to gray in streaks. And his clothes... The blue silk of his shirt clung to his torso, revealing more muscles than most men approaching their fifties could boast. And the blue--it shone the same color as his eyes, even in the almost-darkness of the alcove. The best of East and West, Shan decided, and with a presence that riled the chi in her body, from head to toe.
"I'm sorry," Shan continued, "but I was trying to find the bathroom." She smiled again and tilted her head in a show of calculated embarrassment.
Ashton smiled, his teeth predictably perfect.
"Well, then you are quite lost, Miss...?"
"Westin, Shawna Westin." Shan held out a hand, and Victor took it in his. At his touch, Shan winced. His energy lapped against her flesh in waves. He brought her hand to his mouth and pressed his warm lips to her flesh. Shan shivered. Even if she hadn't seen the portraits, she could recognize power.
"You are quite beautiful, Miss Westin," Ashton said, "even though you are in a part of my home clearly marked private on your map."
Was it a compliment or a threat?
"You're right, Mr. Ashton, I'm not looking for the bathroom." Shan tilted her head and looked up at him through her lashes. "You caught me. I was hoping to steal a glimpse of the items up for auction. There's a piece of porcelain--"
"Ah, the early Yongzheng jar?"
Shan smiled. This felt like a test. "No, a Qing Dynasty vase. But if all you have is Yongzheng..." She let her voice trail off with feigned disappointment.
"I assure you, Miss Westin, we have enough Qing pieces to fill your private warehouse."
"Now you've really whetted my appetite for a sneak peek," Shan said.
"I can't let you see the pieces, my dear, but I can do something about that appetite." He held out his arm, and Shan took it. Chi raced through her body, faster than blood, as they touched again. The tiger was awake and pacing. Not that Shan blamed it. Victor Ashton had more power and charisma in one finger than most men carried in their entire bodies.
She smiled. Fortunately, Ian was not "most men."
The banquet hall was over-the-top extravagant, just as Shan had expected. Too many people, too much gold plating, and almost more exotic spices than her nose could handle.
Of course, it didn't help that she entered the room on the arm of Victor Ashton himself. Or that, across the great room, Rachel Sexton was still firmly attached to Ian's arm. And laughing. At least Ashton had given Shan a chance to change into a slinky, sequined dress--the white one Lydia had so thoughtfully labeled "Big Dinner, Day 1." Ian had changed too--into a timeless tux that accentuated his tall, lean body. Shan itched to trace its tailored lines with her fingers.
Ashton maneuvered Shan slowly through the room, pausing only to shake hands or return an abbreviated bow. His presence was the signal for everyone to find their seats at the great U-shaped table.
"You'll sit next to me," Victor said in a low voice. "Please," he added, probably as an afterthought.
Shan nodded her acquiescence. She was both repelled and attracted by Victor Ashton, but there was no way she was going to pass up a chance to learn more about him...and his interest in the jade animals.
As they reached the top of the table, Rachel and Ian joined them. Ian sent Shan a small smile. She returned it and raised him a wink.
"Miss Westin," Rachel said, "I see you've had a chance to meet Victor. Victor, may I present Professor Ian Dashell, Miss Westin's fiancé?"
Ashton raised an eyebrow at Shan. She smiled and raised an eyebrow right back.
"It is a pleasure, Professor," Victor said. "I hope that you shall join us for dinner. I'm sure Ms. Sexton can find a seat for you next to her. As you and Miss Westin are engaged, I'm sure you can manage to sit apart for the space of one small dinner?"
It wasn't a question; it was a challenge. Victor Ashton had every intention of testing her commitment to Ian, and he meant to start right away.
"Of course we can eat separately, Mr. Ashton," Shan purred. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder, as they say. But what they don't say is that it also makes the sex grow hotter." Shan nibbled on the tip of her index finger and smiled. Victor's eyes narrowed, but his gaze stayed on her mouth.
Ian, it seemed, was having trouble breathing. Rachel tried to offer him a glass of water, but he didn't seem to notice.
"Shall we eat?" Victor said to Shan. "I'm getting hungry."
"And I'm ravished," she said.
"Ravishing is more apt."
She let her eyes slip half closed, but kept her gaze on Ashton. He pulled out her chair, and she sat languidly, letting the tiger guide her movements. With energy roiling through her body and sparking off Ashton's, Shan wouldn't be surprised to see every man in the room looking at her. And every woman looking at Ashton.
Shan, however, had to struggle to keep her eyes on him. Her gaze kept straying toward Ian in his tux. Ian with his mussed brown hair. Ian, her anchor, her crane, her balance. She and Ashton were both predators, and when predators tangled, only one survived.
Fortunately, Victor Ashton stood for his opening speech, giving Shan a respite from her tiring femme fatale routine. Who'd have thought little Shawna Westin had it in her? Not Shan, that's for sure. Ride the wind, she thought. The tiger may rule her spirit now, but the other animals were hardly forgotten. Change the plan. Remain flexible. Adapt.
Ashton was, of course, a compelling speaker. His body glistened in its blue silk shirt, his hair fell straight down his back, never a strand out of place. He himself was a work of art.
"Please," Ashton said, "relax in my home and make it your own. Tomorrow, you may watch or participate in a number of martial arts demonstrations. Or, if you bent is more academic," here, he spared a small glance at Ian, "then you may prefer our ongoing research presentations. We have almost a dozen separate digs in operation around the globe at any time, and you'll want to see for yourself the kinds of treasures we're unearthing. Thank you."
He sat to applause. Rachel stood then and reiterated the schedule for the week. "The auction items will be on display in the museum wing on Friday, beginning at ten a.m. This gives you all ample time to check wi
th your experts at home and clear any of the funds you'll need for Saturday's main event."
Shan had difficulty hearing much else, as Victor Ashton's hand was on her knee and slowly creeping up toward her thigh. But, instead of breaking a few of his fingers, Shan placed her hand on top of his, stopping its forward progress.
"We're planning a winter wedding, Mr. Ashton," she said sweetly. "Don't you just love the cold?"
"Not really," he said. "I much prefer...hotter weather." His hand gained another inch.
"Fly too close to the sun, and your wings will melt," Shan said, letting a little too much of her own voice sneak into Shawna's.
Ashton stopped moving his hand and stared at her. Stared into her.
"If you're not nice," he whispered, "I may not buy you a wedding present."
"I like presents," Shan said quietly, "and I'm partial to jade."
It was a risk, and she knew it. But she'd be much happier if the conversation led to fisticuffs than continued to follow its current route.
Ashton lifted his wine glass and swirled it without taking a sip. "It seems we share a similar interest, then," he said. "If you're a good girl, I may have something to show you on Friday."
"Friday?" Shan breathed. "Why not tonight?"
He raised an eyebrow. "So eager now? You must really enjoy your jade."
"Jade's not the only thing I enjoy, Victor. The list is quite long, actually."
He eyed her, more wary now. She'd definitely pushed too far.
"Friday," he said. "And I'll need to see that list."
Waiters arrived bearing plate after plate of steaming food, successfully severing the connection between Shan and Ashton. She ate, but only to keep up her strength. Despite its exotic decoration, the food all tasted bland. And it didn't help that Ian and Rachel were laughing again, no doubt over some shared joke from their shared past.
No matter. She'd made progress with Ashton, regardless of how disgusted the process had made her feel. This was Shawna, she told herself. This wasn't the tiger, and it wasn't her.