“If you want a uniquely Japanese shopping experience, there’s no place better than Ginza,” she told him.
Richard had never been anywhere like Ginza.
As they wandered through the shopping district, Jenny pointed out famous department stores beside tiny shops selling traditional handmade crafts tucked next to galleries and ultra-modern showrooms. She dragged him from one store to the next, showing him the wares, explaining the history or tradition behind different items.
“You like to shop,” he commented, noting the pink flush in her cheeks, the sparkle in her eyes, as she led him through yet another store.
Her smile was easy. “It’s a definite vice.”
“But is it your only vice?” he teased.
“The only one you need to worry about right now,” she said.
“Well, I’m grateful for your help.” Following her suggestions and guidance, he’d finished most of his shopping. For his nephew he’d picked up a kite shaped like a carp, which Jenny told him was a symbol of courage and strength and a traditional gift for young boys; for his brother and sister-in-law he’d found a ceramic Murasaki sake set; and for his mother he’d purchased a framed watercolor of Mount Fuji. “But I still don’t have anything for Caitlin.”
“You will.” She took his arm to steer him down a small alley, then over a broken step and through a narrow doorway.
It was a doll shop. A tiny room with floor-to-ceiling shelves lined with white-faced dolls dressed in silk kimonos. He glanced around at the hundreds—maybe even thousands—of dolls, before selecting one at random for a closer examination.
“The workmanship and detail are amazing.”
“It’s an oyster shell doll. I had one when I was a little girl. My mom bought it for me on our first trip to Japan.” She smiled. “I carted that doll everywhere with me until it finally got lost somewhere in our travels.”
It was more information than she’d ever volunteered about herself, and he was eager to hear more. Maybe learning about the child she’d been would give him some insight into the woman she’d become. But he knew better than to pry—anytime he asked direct questions, she seemed to shut down.
“I cried when I realized it was gone,” she admitted. “But I was almost a teenager by then—too old to be playing with dolls.”
She shook her head, as if to shake off the memory, and smiled again. “But eight is just the right age for a gift like this. Still young enough to want to play with it, and old enough to know to take care of it.”
“I think you’re right,” he agreed. “The only problem now is choosing the right one.”
Jenny picked up another doll, stroked a hand gently over the hair. “This is like the one I had,” she told him. “I still remember the glossy red lips and matching scarlet kimono.”
“Then that’s the one I’ll get,” he decided.
After his shopping was done, she took him to the Nissan gallery where he admired the latest offerings from the motor vehicle company, then to the Sony showroom where he played with the latest electronic gadgets.
“My mother always said that the only difference between men and boys was the price of their toys,” she told him as they walked out of the store.
He smiled. “I imagine there’s some truth in that.”
“The truth is in the bag in your hand.”
“It’s a digital camera barely bigger than a credit card. How could anyone resist that?”
“I can’t possibly imagine,” she said, tongue in cheek.
He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing that it had been an impulse buy. He refused to admit that he rarely bothered to take pictures. Instead, he took it out of the box and snapped a quick photo of her.
He checked the display screen, pleased with the image he’d captured. He found the tantalizing glimpses of the woman beneath the surface even more captivating than her beauty, and there was just a hint of that woman in the picture he’d impulsively taken. There was the illusion of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth and a glint of amusement in her deep green eyes. She intrigued him more than he wanted to admit, enticed him as no other woman had done in a very long time.
He tucked the camera into his pocket, wishing he could so easily tuck away his thoughts about Jenny, and fell into step with her again. They wandered some more, around the Gallery Center Building to look at the art, then through Hankyu and Seibu department stores.
Despite the sexual tension, which had been exacerbated rather than alleviated by the fiery kiss they’d shared the day before, Richard found it surprisingly easy to talk to her. But he noticed that while she was knowledgeable about any number of topics, she didn’t offer a lot in the way of personal information. The revelation in the doll shop was the only real insight he’d been given, and he wanted to know so much more.
“Tell me about the story you wanted to write,” he said, hoping—despite her loss of the assignment—that it wasn’t a topic that would create new barriers.
“I pitched it to my editor as a piece about gender inequality in the contemporary workplace. As I began to research it, however, it became a story about sexual harassment with a prominent corporate VP at its center.”
“No wonder you were annoyed when you lost the assignment.”
She nodded. “I’d talked to five women—all of whom were either promised promotions if they provided sexual services to the boss or threatened with demotions if they refused to do so.”
“None of these women ever complained?”
“He’s a powerful and influential man—they didn’t see any point.”
“How did you get them to talk to you?”
“One of the women is a friend of mine,” she admitted. “When she confided in me about what had happened, I guessed she wasn’t the first victim. I suggested she approach some other women at work, and they agreed to talk to me, too. They believed that exposing his actions in a public forum—such as the newspaper—would help them get justice.”
“How did your friend feel when she found out you weren’t going to write the story?”
“She wasn’t happy,” Jenny admitted. “Especially when my replacement went to the boss to hear his response to the allegations.”
“I’m really sorry, Jenny.”
She shrugged. “There will be other stories.”
“But you weren’t just upset because you lost your byline, were you? You were upset because you’d let your friend down.”
She was surprised that he’d so readily understood. Maybe, she reluctantly acknowledged, she’d been a little hasty in her judgment of him.
“Tell me about your job—why you wanted to be a lawyer.” She smiled. “Because I’m sure you didn’t do so just to please your mother.”
Richard didn’t smile back. In fact, she thought she saw a shadow pass over his face, but it was gone so quickly she decided she’d imagined it.
“I went to law school because I like to argue,” he told her. “And it seemed a good way to get paid for doing something I enjoy.”
“That sounds like an oversimplified explanation,” she complained.
“What do you want me to say—that I felt a burning need to uphold truth, justice and the American way?”
“Only if it’s true.”
“The truth is, my parents owned a coffee shop. My dad did the baking and tended the shop while my mother took care of my brother and me. They worked hard to make life easier for us, and I wanted to do something that I thought would make my parents proud.”
“I’m sure you succeeded.”
“Not entirely. My mother wanted me to become a district attorney.”
“Why?”
She was sure she saw the shadow this time, but he only shrugged.
“Instead you chose to wage your legal battles over contract addendums and penalty clauses.”
“Pretty much,” he agreed.
“What about your wife? What kind of law did she practice?”
“What makes you think she’s an
attorney?”
“I have friends who are lawyers,” she explained. “And they all seem to be married to one another, having babies who will grow up to be the next generation of lawyers.”
He smiled. “I guess there is a fair amount of inbreeding within the profession. And Marilyn—my ex-wife—is also a corporate attorney.”
“It seems with so much in common, you’d have the foundation for a good marriage,” Jenny noted.
“We thought so,” he agreed. “We got married right out of law school, both of us young and ambitious. Six months later, she was offered a great job at a firm in Decatur. She decided to take it, and though we tried to make it work, time and distance eroded our relationship until there was nothing left.”
“I don’t imagine it was as easy to let go as you imply.”
His mouth twisted into something that might have been a smile. “She made it easy when she decided to sleep with her new boss.”
“Ouch.” Again, she knew his explanation had only skimmed the surface and though she wanted to know more, she was reluctant to pursue what was obviously a painful topic for him. Instead, she glanced at her watch. “I had no idea it was getting to be so late.”
“Do you have somewhere you have to be?” he asked.
“Actually, yes,” she said. “And if we don’t hurry, we’re going to miss the first pitch.”
The crowd was thick around the amusement park and outside the Tokyo Dome, so Jenny took Richard’s hand to ensure they didn’t get separated. She ignored the now-familiar tingle that skated through her veins when their fingers linked together. It didn’t matter how his touch made her heart race and her heart pound—she was going to be smart and keep their relationship simple.
She led him through the gate, handing their tickets to the attendant. “It’s not the White Sox or the Cubs,” she told him. “But I thought it might be something you’d enjoy.”
“She’s smart and beautiful and she likes baseball—that’s an almost irresistible combination.”
“Only almost?” she teased, refusing to take his words seriously. “Wait until you see our seats.”
She led him down section A16, four rows back from the infield, directly facing first base. Close enough to smell the dirt and sweat and feel the tension and excitement as the players stood along the baseline for the national anthem. When the last notes faded away, Jenny sat down beside Richard and breathed deeply to inhale the unique ambience of the ballpark.
“Those are the Yomiuri Giants,” she told him, pointing to the home team in the white-and-orange uniforms. “They’re the oldest and the most popular professional baseball team around, and they’ve won more pennants and series titles than any other team in Japan.”
“Tokyo’s version of the Yankees.”
She nodded. “Tonight the Giants are playing against the Hanshin Tigers.”
There was a collective cheer as the first pitch was thrown and a strike was called.
“Do you come to the games very often?” he asked.
“At least a few times a year. Samara likes to come with me sometimes.”
“Your roommate is a baseball fan, too?”
“She doesn’t understand much about the logistics of the game,” Jenny confided. “But she appreciates a nicely toned butt in tight pants.”
The next pitch was swung on and missed, and the crowd cheered again.
“What’s the attraction for you?” Richard asked.
She answered without hesitation. “The crack of the bat when a fastball hits the sweet spot, a diving catch from center field, a well-turned double play, a full-count pitch in the bottom of the ninth of a tie game.” Then she smiled. “And nicely toned butts in tight pants.”
He shook his head. “I thought you were immune to that sort of thing.”
“It’s like shopping for a car. I can look without wanting to test drive.”
The batter connected with the third pitch—a line-drive straight to the third baseman that was easily snagged for the first out. The fielders tossed the ball around as they waited for the next batter to step up to the plate, and Richard turned his attention to Jenny. “Who do you have to know to get seats like this?”
“It’s not the ‘who’ so much as the ‘what’,” she admitted. “For these tickets, I had to endure endless hours of tedium and boredom.”
The next batter swung at the first pitch, sending the ball deep into the foul territory of right field.
“The shareholder meeting,” she explained in response to his quizzical look. “When my parents gave me their proxies, I negotiated for these along with them.”
“These are your parents’ seats?”
She nodded as the first ball was called, low and outside. “Although, between their business and travel, they don’t get to come to many games.”
“You said Samara sometimes comes with you—who else do you bring here?”
“Any one of a dozen different men,” she lied glibly. She had no intention of admitting that when Samara wasn’t available, it was usually her brother who came or, less frequently, a coworker she knew would enjoy the game.
“A dozen?”
“Usually only one at a time.”
Ball two, low and outside again.
He slid an arm across the back of her chair.
She eyed him warily.
“And of the dozen men you’ve brought here, how many went home with you?”
“None—” another swing, another hit, this one into the right fielder’s glove for the second out “—of your business.”
“Yasushi told me you don’t date. Why is that?”
She frowned. “You talked to Yasushi about me?”
“I was curious,” he said easily, brushing his fingertips over her shoulder.
It was a casually intimate touch that made her skin burn and her heart pound.
“Now I’m curious about what he’d say if I told him you brought me to a Giants game.”
She didn’t need to look at him to know he was smiling.
“It doesn’t matter because this isn’t a date,” she said firmly.
“Why aren’t you dating anyone right now?”
“Why does there have to be a reason?”
“There doesn’t have to be,” he allowed. “But there usually is.”
“Okay,” she relented. “I ended a long-term relationship before I came back to Tokyo a few months ago.”
“How long-term?”
“Two and a half years.”
“That’s longer than my marriage lasted,” he admitted.
Jenny considered this revelation as she refocused her attention on the field, surprised to see that the Giants were leaving the field for their turn at bat. And annoyed to realize that she’d been so disconcerted by his casual touch, she’d completely missed the third out.
Richard enjoyed watching the game—at least after he got used to the incessant chanting of the crowd and the unusual background music. Japanese baseball fans might not be as loud as their American counterparts, but no one could claim they were any less enthusiastic.
But even more than the game, he enjoyed watching Jenny. The way her eyes would light up for a well-hit ball or darken with frustration over what she perceived to be an inaccurate call by the umpire, the enthusiasm with which she joined in the cheering, the simple enjoyment she showed in munching down on a hot dog generously slathered with mustard.
He would never have guessed she was a baseball fan. The woman he’d met outside of the TAKA boardroom had caught his eye because she was attractive. In the time they’d spent together since then, he’d realized there was a lot more to her than a pretty package. She was smart, passionate, fun and she didn’t interrupt the game to ask about the infield fly rule. She was, quite possibly, the perfect woman.
The perfect woman for someone else, of course, because Richard wasn’t in the market for a woman—perfect or otherwise. He was only killing time until Mr. Tetsugoro returned to Tokyo and the negotiations for the Hanson-TAKA me
rger finally commenced.
The Giants trounced the Tigers and they did so quickly. As Jenny and Richard filed out of the park with the rest of the crowd, she noted that it wasn’t even nine o’clock. She considered suggesting a bar or nightclub, but she really just wanted to get home. As much as she’d enjoyed the day with Richard, she still wasn’t completely comfortable with him.
It was the attraction, she knew, that kept getting in the way of what might have developed into a genuine friendship between them. Every time she started to relax, something would happen to remind her of the kiss they’d already shared and the desire that continued to simmer between them. A glance, a smile, a touch—any and all of these silent communications kept her on edge.
She wasn’t afraid of him. Although she hadn’t known him for very long and certainly didn’t know him well, she trusted that he would respect the boundaries she’d set. She was afraid of her own response to him, of the longing that had started to stir deep inside her.
It would be smart to take a step back—several steps even. Because they’d both been honest about what they wanted and while she wasn’t interested in a temporary affair, he couldn’t offer her anything more.
But he did offer to see her home again. Insisted on it, in fact, and while Jenny tried to object, she was secretly pleased by the courtesy.
When they got to her apartment, he dug into one of the bags he carried to offer her a tissue-wrapped package. “This is for you.”
She was surprised, pleased and curious all at the same time, with just a hint of caution dancing around the outside of her other emotions. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had spontaneously given her a gift. Brad certainly hadn’t been the type to pick up little trinkets, and flowers had arrived for her only once each year—on Valentine’s Day.
“Why?” she couldn’t help but ask.
Her Best-Kept Secret Page 6