Tempo of Love

by Kianna Alexander

  “Good morning.” She stuck out her hand.

  He took her hand and kissed it instead of shaking it. “Good morning. Welcome to Yamada Creative.”

  Her perfectly arched brow lifted. “You seem to be in a much better mood today.”

  “I am. I came in early, and I think I’ve finally landed on the right design for the main hall of the Grand Pearl.” He stood back to allow her inside, then let the door close. As she passed him, his gaze reflexively fell to her hips, where the skirt grazed over her body. The skirt wasn’t tight, but it fit her well enough to reveal the outline of her womanly figure. He knew that if he continued to look at her this way, a physical reaction would soon follow. He chastised his hungry eyes, reminded himself that she’d come there for an interview, not a romantic interlude. He swallowed, dragging his eyes away before his body revealed the desire she ignited in him.

  She stopped at the reception desk, turning his way. If she’d felt him looking at her backside, she didn’t let on. “So I guess days get started a little late around here.”

  He shrugged. “My assistant usually comes in before ten. We don’t get a whole lot of visitors because of the nature of our business.”

  She nodded. “I’d love to see your office.”

  He gestured with a finger. “This way.”

  Walking down the short hallway, he turned right to lead her into his office, where she executed a full turn to take in the sights. While her attention was on his office, he was taking advantage of the full view of her body as she spun around. In that moment, he swore his body temperature climbed ten degrees.

  “Your office is very bright and open. I can tell you don’t do clutter.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t concentrate in a crowded or dark space, so I made sure my office would be well lit and sparsely decorated. Only the essentials.”

  She smiled, and the room seemed even brighter. “Ah. So I’ve already learned something about you, and I haven’t even asked any questions yet.” She moved toward the love seat. “Do you mind if we sit here?”

  “No, that’s fine.” As he followed her, he did his best to keep his eyes on where he was going and off the tempting sway of her hips.

  She sat down on one of the white cushions, crossing her legs demurely. After she’d taken out her phone and set it to record, she spoke. “So, I noticed your decor. Are all these designs yours?” She gestured to the blueprints and sketches on his office walls.

  Taking a seat next to her, he nodded. “Yes. The blueprint closest to my desk is my first professional job. These sketches and blueprints are like a road map of my career thus far.”

  “I see.” She touched her chin. “Some might see the display of only your own art as conceited or self-centered.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “On the contrary. Seeing my work around me helps to ground me. It helps me see my growth as an artist, and it also shows me how much I still have to learn. Do you consider it a sign of my ego, Nona?”

  She seemed a bit flustered at having him question her. “No. I was merely making an observation.”

  He wasn’t sure he believed that but decided not to push the issue. “Any more questions?”

  “Yes. The trophies I see displayed on your bookcases. I know you’re a runner. Do you run competitively?”

  He shook his head. “I run for fitness and to relax. The trophies are for my kendo wins.”

  Her brow crinkled. “Kendo. I’ve heard of it, but I’m not familiar with the intricacies.”

  “Kendo is a martial art, where opponents use bamboo swords to battle. The word means ‘the way of the sword.’ The focus is on physical and mental discipline, courage and respect.”

  She appeared impressed. “Sounds interesting.”

  In that moment, an idea struck him. He remembered Marco’s complaints, as well as his vow never to spar with Ken again. “I have an idea.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Come to the gym where I do kendo. You can see me in action and get a better understanding of me. And if you’re brave enough, you can learn a few moves.”

  A sly smile tipped up the corners of her mouth. “If I’m brave? You mean, as brave as you were earlier when you were staring at my ass?”

  He blinked a few times, noting how smoothly she’d cut him off at the knee. Then and there, he knew she’d make a brilliant sparring partner. “I suppose. I hope I didn’t embarrass you.”

  “You may have embarrassed yourself. As far as I’m concerned, as least I know you have good taste.” She winked.

  A tingle ran down his back. She’s flirting with me. Now he knew he had to cross swords with her. “So, will you come to the gym?”

  She laughed and stuck out her hand. “I’m game.”

  Chapter 6

  The afternoon sun beat down on the beach, warming Nona’s feet as she dug them into the sand. It wasn’t how she typically spent a Thursday. Despite the feature story she currently had in the works, she’d taken the rest of the week off to celebrate her thirty-fourth birthday in the manner most appealing to her: drinks and relaxing on the beach. So there she sat in a folding chair about twenty feet from the lapping waves of the Atlantic Ocean. She wore a blue one-piece bathing suit, a matching wide-brimmed hat, dark sunglasses and a smile. To her left was a small cooler holding ice and a few chilled miniature bottles of wine.

  Hadley sat to her right. She wore a bright pink bikini, a wide-brimmed straw hat, cat-eye sunglasses and a sheer floral cover-up. Hadley, eight years Nona’s junior, had been an incoming freshman during Nona’s senior year. Hadley was as smart as a whip, having come to college at sixteen and graduated at nineteen. Oddly enough, Hadley had been so mature that Nona hadn’t thought twice about hanging out with her, despite their age difference. Since Nona had been relatively tame during college, avoiding parties, drinking and carousing in favor of working and studying, she and Hadley had been thick as thieves.

  Every time Nona had doubts about the gap year she’d taken between high school and college, she reminded herself that if she hadn’t taken a year off, she probably never would have met Hadley.

  Popping a piece of chocolate into her mouth, Hadley sighed. “Nona, am I ever going to be able to convince you to have a birthday party, like regular people?”

  She shook her head. “We both know I’m not regular people. I prefer to spend my birthday relaxing rather than getting drunk, acting a fool and waking up the next day with a colossal hangover.”

  Hadley pulled her shades down, letting them rest on the bridge of her nose so Nona could see her rolling her eyes. “That’s what makes birthdays fun. Come on. We never did any of that stuff in college. I was too young, and you were way too straitlaced back then.”

  “True. But I don’t necessarily think that means we missed out on anything.” She took a sip from a tiny bottle of chilled merlot.

  “Speak for yourself.” Hadley sat back in her chair with a dramatic sigh. “Okay, at least promise me we’ll throw a real party when you turn forty. That’s a milestone.”

  Shaking her head, Nona laughed. “I’ll think about it.”

  “Look. If you’re going to be in my Golden Girls squad, you gotta be able to cut loose every now and again.” Hadley offered a chuckle of her own.

  Nona gestured around her. “Look where we are. Am I not on the beach right now, even though I’m on deadline for a feature? I’m already cutting loose.”

  “Not really. It’s your birthday and you only took off a few days.”

  She couldn’t deny that truth. Generally she tried to take vacation days in between assignments, but her schedule was so packed that meant she usually ended each year with unused vacation days. It was a small step, but she was still proud of herself for taking the day off, despite the large amount of work she still had left to do on her article.


  “Speaking of the feature, how is that going? Were you able to get Secret Squirrel to open up yet?”

  “You’re too young for that reference, Hadley. Anyway, I think I’m making progress with him, but I still haven’t gotten down to his core. Not yet.”

  Hadley drained the last of her hard lemonade. “What do you mean? Didn’t you go running with him or something?”

  She nodded. “I did. And I visited his office to get a feel for his process when he’s working.”

  “And you still don’t have enough information?” Her brow hitched.

  “No. But I’m supposed to go to his kendo gym later this week, so hopefully he’ll be chattier then.”

  Hadley’s dark brow arched. “Nona, you see what he’s doing, don’t you?”

  Her face scrunching in confusion, she shook her head. “What do you mean?”

  “Think about it. You’ve been to a coffee shop with him. You’ve been running with him, you’ve been to his office and now you’re talking about doing martial arts with him.”

  “So?”

  “So, that man is running you around on purpose! He wants to see if you show an interest in his hobbies. And so far, you are playing right into his hands.”

  “No, I’m not. I’m just doing my job, taking whatever steps I need to take to get my story right.”

  “Nope. It’s more than that. Didn’t you tell me the other day you thought he was fine?”

  She swallowed, suddenly regretting blabbing to her girlfriend. “Yes. I did say that, but...”

  “It’s all good, girl. Get down with the swirl, I’m not judging. All I’m saying is you need to admit that you wouldn’t be doing all this stuff with him if you weren’t attracted to him.”

  Nona pulled the brim of her hat low over her face as she cringed. “Come on, Hadley.”

  “Come on, nothing. Think about the hardest interview subject you’ve ever had, and what you did to get the scoop. Have you ever made this much effort before?”

  Running through the tougher characters she’d covered over her years working at the newspaper, she already knew who had made her work the hardest before Ken—a reclusive elderly woman who had given most of her wealth to charity and had insisted Nona help her in the garden if she wanted any information. As much as she hated to admit it, Hadley was right on both counts. No one had ever made her go through this much to get information, and if she were honest, she probably wouldn’t have done it with anyone else.

  “Mmm-hmm.” Hadley folded her arms over her chest. “You’ve gotten quiet, which means you know I’m right. If Ken Yamada had a face for radio, there ain’t no way you’d be participating in this gantlet of activities he’s given you.”

  Nona smeared a hand over her face and took another sip of wine. “Crap.”

  Hadley merely smirked in her direction.

  “Enough about me. You’re the one with the exciting life on the Crystal Coast. Who are you dating right now?”

  “Nice segue.” Hadley stuck out her tongue. “For your information, I’m not dating anyone, thanks to my brothers.”

  “So I’m guessing Campbell and Savion are still on that overprotective kick, eh?”

  “Girl, I don’t know if they’ll ever let it go.” She shifted in her seat. “No man can get within thirty yards of me before they start hounding him and giving him the third degree.”

  “You know it’s just because they love you and don’t think anyone is good enough for their precious baby sister.”

  “Whatever. I think they’re in cahoots with Daddy to keep me single and pure until I’m thirty.”

  Nona laughed at that, because she knew the good ship Purity had already sailed for Hadley. “What they don’t know won’t hurt them, right?”

  “Right. I can’t have them knowing all of my business. Besides, celibacy’s got to count for something.”

  Grabbing her magazine from the sand next to her, Nona used it to fan herself, stirring up the warm, humid air encircling her. Looking out on the surface of the water, she thought about what Hadley had pointed out. Was this really about her story? Or was she letting Ken drag her all over the Queen City because she found him irresistible?

  Either way, she was in too deep now to change her strategy. And with less than two weeks before her article was due, she didn’t have the luxury of stepping back.

  She had to find out who Ken really was, both for the sake of her feature and for her own purposes.

  * * *

  When Ken visited his father’s home for dinner Friday evening, he let himself into the house with his spare key. As usual, the house was mostly dark and quiet. Walking through the grand foyer, Ken once again wondered why his father insisted on clinging to this house. It was much too large for a man of his age, especially one who lived alone. Beyond that, Ken knew the house held many painful memories for his father, and he couldn’t figure out why he’d want to face those old ghosts every day.

  Months ago, Ken had tried to have yet another conversation with his father about selling the house and moving into something smaller and more manageable. The conversation had quickly gone downhill, with the old man ranting about how this was his home and he had no intention of leaving it as long as he lived. There had been nothing he could say to convince the old man to leave the house, so Ken had let the matter drop, hoping to revisit it later.

  While he made his way to the dining room, Ken noted how cavernous the house seemed these days. He’d grown up here, and by most standards, it was a modest family home. With four bedrooms and three bathrooms, it had had just enough space for the family’s needs back then. But now, with the three thousand square feet being occupied only by one frail old man, an echoing emptiness filled the place.

  He walked farther down the hall, headed toward the light flooding from the dining room. Just outside the door, he stopped at the side table and picked up a small silver-framed portrait. The image of the smiling, youthful woman, her stomach swollen with child, was one of his favorite pictures of his late mother. He knew from the stories his parents had told him that the photograph had been taken while she was pregnant with Ken, as she and his father enjoyed a day in the park. It was also one of the few portraits his father had kept after his mother’s untimely death.

  A slight smile touched his lips as he remembered her quiet, loving nature. Setting the photo back in its place, he entered the dining room.

  Inside, he found his father sitting in his usual spot at the head of the low black-lacquered table. “Hello, Father.”

  “Hello, son. Come in.” From his seat on the cushion, Hiro Yamada motioned to him.

  Sitting in his usual spot to his father’s right, Ken bowed. The food for the evening had already been laid out by Hiro’s housekeeper, Frances Crane. Over the years she’d worked for the family, she’d become very adept at Japanese cooking. The grilled meats, jasmine rice and sautéed vegetables she’d prepared perfumed the air with a delicious aroma.

  As Ken and Hiro ate, the dining room remained mostly silent. Ken watched his father discreetly, noting the careful way he ate. The old man guided each bite to his mouth with a slow hand. Despite his efforts to hide it, Ken could clearly see the tremor in his movements.

  “Father. Are you sure you have all the help you need? Because there is more that can be done.”

  Looking up from his plate of food, Hiro offered a long sigh. “Son, I am fine. I’m not as young as I used to be, but I can still take care of myself. Stop pestering me.”

  He smiled in spite of his father’s sour mood, knowing that was simply the old man’s way. “I worry about you because I love you, Father.”

  “You love me so much? Then let’s talk of something else.”

  Shaking his head, Ken took a sip of tea, then did as his father wished. “I told you about the Grand Pearl Theater project. Now the Observer
has assigned a reporter to write a feature article on me.”

  Hiro set his chopsticks aside. “Really? And how much have you told this reporter?”

  “So far, not much. She knows about my running, my kendo—”

  “She?” The old man’s eyes were locked on him.

  “Yes. The reporter is a woman. Her name is Nona Gregory, and she—”

  “Has my name come up?”

  Ken could tell his father was agitated, by both his tone and his repeated interruptions. “Yes. She asked if we were related, but I refused to answer.”

  Hiro responded with a slow shake of his head. “If she is a reporter, she will find out. It’s only a matter of time before she does.”

  “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine. After all, the story is about me, not you.”

  “It doesn’t matter, son. Once the connection is made, she will latch on to the scandal of our past.” His eyes changed then, becoming empty, unseeing. “Soon the secret shame of this family will be made public.”

  Ken sighed. While he understood his father’s concerns, he didn’t like the way he was talking. “Miyu is not shameful, Father. I love her.”

  “I care for her as well.” His eyes remained devoid of emotion. “But the circumstances of her birth are shameful to our family legacy.”

  Ken pushed his plate away, his appetite gone. He said nothing, knowing his words wouldn’t matter. Hiro was well past the age when a man made up his mind about certain things, and he couldn’t be convinced otherwise.

  “Son, all I ask is that you give me as much time as you can, stall her somehow. If my secrets are going to come out, I need time to prepare.”