by Janzen, Tara
When a phone opened up, she stumbled forward, weary to the bone. She let her carry-on bag slip off her shoulder to the floor, then dug the necessary coins out of her purse and fed them into the telephone. Before anyone answered, Cooper was back at her side with a luggage cart. She gave him a quick glance and a halfhearted smile, a smile that turned genuine when a sweet voice spoke into her ear.
“Hello. Langston and Signorelli residence. Christina Langston speaking.”
“Hi, sweetheart. I’m home.”
Cooper saw the sudden beatific curve of Jessica’s mouth, the soft glow in her eyes, and knew beyond doubt that neither of them was meant for him. They belonged to “sweetheart.”
A pang of jealousy he hadn’t expected tightened his chest. He had been without a woman’s love for a long time, and Jessica Langston made him feel that lack with a surprising intensity. At another time, under different circumstances, he would have welcomed her into his life. He would have taken a chance with her, this woman who acted on his emotions and made him want to rediscover tenderness.
Hoping his jealousy was completely unfounded, he took a guess as to who her “sweetheart” might be—her nine-year-old daughter, Christina, or her seven-year-old son, Eric. He’d finally read her personnel file. He knew she had two children and was divorced from a private investigator in New York. He knew she was thirty-three years old. He did not know if she was seeing a man.
“Oh, Christina . . . yes, honey.” She laughed, paused again, then murmured a reply into the phone. Cooper tried to remember the last time a woman had talked so sweetly to him. It had been a while. He could remember his mother talking in a similar way to Jackson—a green-eyed, dark-haired terror, the kind of wild child only a mother could love.
But that was a long time ago, and they were both gone now, his mother for more than half his lifetime and Jackson seemingly only yesterday.
Cooper felt the muscles in his jaw tighten. The pain never left him, the pain and the guilt. Jackson had been protecting Cooper’s back when he’d died, and Cooper was supposed to have been protecting Jackson. He had failed, and that failure had left him devoid of any tenderness, any love. He had nothing to offer a woman. Nothing.
He swore silently to himself and gave Jessica an impatient look, motioning with his head. He was ready to leave. He’d been moving fast for the last two months, trying to outrun his feelings. Now was not the time to stop, not when he was bone-tired, and his emotions were seeping through mental and physical barriers thinned by exhaustion.
She said her good-byes and picked up her carry-on bag, which he transferred to the cart.
“Sorry,” she apologized around another yawn. “But it’s the deal I’ve got with them. I always call from the airport to give them a chance to whip the house into shape. Paul hates for me to think he can’t handle the kids when I’m gone.”
Paul? Cooper didn’t remember anybody named Paul in her file.
“And Tony hates being taken by surprise,” she continued. “He’s always got something going on he’d rather I didn’t know about.”
And Tony. Cooper gave her a sharp glance. Even if she was seeing one man, she couldn’t possibly be seeing two, living with two. The thought of one man was aggravating enough. He couldn’t have misjudged—
He drew his thoughts to a sudden halt, realizing he had already misjudged just about everything else about her. He’d seen some pretty loose relationships in San Francisco, situations that would have easily accommodated a simple ménage à trois. One more mistaken opinion about Jessica Langston shouldn’t surprise him.
It did, though. It surprised the hell out of him. He’d have bet money on her playing for keeps in the love department. Privately, he admitted that was part of her appeal to him. He liked to think there was someone left in the world a person could count on when things got tough. And things always got tough.
“I’d like to stop by the office for a minute,” he said. “Will that be okay with you?” They had a job to do, he reminded himself. Nothing could get in the way of bringing Baolian down, least of all his hormonal response to the auburn-haired beauty who was his assistant.
“Sure,” she said, sounding like she was past the point of caring about details.
“Fine.”
More preoccupied with his new knowledge of her than he would have admitted to anyone, he led the way out to his car. Jessica Langston’s living arrangements and her lovers weren’t his business. Her employment was his business, and that should be uppermost in his mind. He needed her skills and her instincts, not her personal attention.
But he had liked having her personal attention all day. He’d liked sitting next to her, listening to her soft voice talking about his goals and questioning his assets. Her fragrance had eased him, her nearness had soothed him. Maybe he’d liked it all too much.
Jessica wasn’t sure what she’d done to sidetrack him, but Cooper hardly spoke a word on their way to his car. His sudden quietness was a welcome respite from the information overload she’d been getting. Once they were under way, she stretched out in the warm and comfortable luxury sedan and let the subdued hum of the engine and the quietly playing classical music lull her into a state of relaxation.
“For the remainder of your stay at Daniels, Ltd., you’ll be working under a strict operating procedure,” he said from out of nowhere, startling her back into awareness.
She’d really thought they were done for the night. Sighing, she turned her head so she could see him. “Operating procedure?” she repeated.
“Any requests for information will be done in the company’s name. You’ve been sitting at the receptionist’s desk for a couple of weeks. There’s no reason for anybody to know you are anything except my receptionist.”
She came more fully awake, her instincts telling her this was not an idle fancy of his.
“Why?” she asked.
“Precautionary measure.”
For someone who had talked her ear off across most of the Atlantic and North America, he’d done an amazing regression into taciturnity.
“Precaution against what?”
He briefly met her gaze, his eyes assessing her with cool briskness. “Involvement,” he finally said, returning his attention to the road. “Since you’re not sticking around for very long, there’s no reason for anyone to know you’re involved. If everything turns out the way we want, great. You can put Daniels, Ltd. on your résumé and go straight to the top of another organization.”
“And if things go bad?”
“Then you’re well out of it.” He ran his hand through his hair and shot her another glance. “You can tell people as much or as little as you like. I’ll back you up.”
He had a generous nature, she thought, which shouldn’t have surprised her—considering the salary he was paying.
Given his show of support, she felt she should be more up-front with him. “I have to tell you, Mr. Daniels, that I don’t think too much is going to happen in one week.” She tilted her head in his direction to gauge his reaction. There was none—except for a slight narrowing of his eyes. She pushed ahead. “The kind of investigation you want can take months. The kind of information I’ll need can be very hard to track down. Then there’s the time involved in determining the best course of action once we have the information.”
She didn’t consider her statements a concession of defeat before the game had even gotten started. She had more confidence in herself than that. But there were realities they both needed to take into consideration, and she hoped he was considering them.
“Call me Cooper,” was all he said, checking the traffic before changing lanes to pass a car, giving a good impression of a man who hadn’t heard a word she’d said.
Oh-kay , she thought, drawing the word out in her mind. If he didn’t want to take her seriously, that was fine with her. But now they’d both been warned. She just hoped he realized it.
Five
Cooper took her up to the office in the private elevator. It
was a throwback, he explained, to when the building had been owned by one of the old San Francisco shipping magnates who had gone head-to-head with the Damn Line and lost. Given the ancient workings and grumbling and groanings of the contraption, Jessica could only wonder in which century the battle had been waged.
The doors opened with a grinding noise, making each inch seem hard won. She waited, foot tiredly tapping, her chin down and her eyes lowered. When freedom was a few grinding seconds away, Cooper pulled her back from the door and stepped in front of her.
The rudeness of the action left her speechless. She hadn’t burned her bras. She was entitled to a little consideration, and she wanted out of his ancient cage of an elevator.
“Excuse me,” she said with soft sarcasm.
He had the audacity to flash her a grin over his shoulder. “We’ve got company.”
She looked past him and realized he’d spoken with typical understatement. A number of Oriental men were crowded into his office, sitting around his table, standing against his walls, and walking all over his dragon. Most of them were dressed like businessmen in suits and ties, but one was not. He was dressed like a Mandarin overlord, complete with arrogant demeanor and haughty composure. It took her less than a minute to realize the businessmen were actually the overlord’s bodyguards.
“Remember, I’m paying you to think on your feet,” Cooper said before stepping out of the elevator, his brief smile replaced by a more somber expression.
Those were the last words she understood for quite a while. Cooper greeted the silk-clad gentleman in a Chinese dialect and with great deference, an attitude she would have thought too alien to his nature for him to pull off convincingly. He proved otherwise with his low bow and his silent acceptance of the invasion of his domain.
During the introductions, she did manage to determine that the man’s name was Chow Sheng. After a short bow that she performed without conscious intent, she settled into one of the chairs flanking the large, low table in the middle of Cooper’s office.
She sat quietly, absorbing the nuances of the conversation if not its actual meaning, not quite believing she’d bowed to the imperious old goat.
With a clap of Chow Sheng’s hands, tea was served by two of the bodyguards. She could tell there was a discussion as to whether or not she should be included. At Cooper’s indication that she should be served, a cup was offered with only a modicum of hesitation, just enough to put her in her place as a woman of little or no rank. She was appropriately offended, but didn’t let her feelings show.
The amenities, if they could be called that, lasted twenty minutes by Jessica’s watch, which she checked discreetly but often. Then, with no more warning than a shift of inflection in Chow Sheng’s voice, the atmosphere became charged with tension.
Cooper stiffened beside her, and every bodyguard in the place responded with a not-so-subtle shift in his stance. All the awareness in the room was focused on the three people sitting around the table. The tension was palpable, hostile, and Jessica suddenly understood that she and Cooper were not at a tea party given by friends.
Under the table, she felt his foot nudge hers. She picked up her teacup and took a swallow, instinctively understanding she was not supposed to react to the new dynamics. She also understood the other implications of his action: He was aware of her; he was considering her presence and her safety. Or at least that’s what she thought before he spoke, this time in English.
“I was not aware, Chow Sheng, of your new status as a lackey dog for the dragon whore.”
Jessica choked despite her best efforts not to. They were fighting words if she’d ever heard them, and he was outnumbered. She quickly decided her wisest game plan would be to play dumb, defenseless, and inculpable, good guy to his bad guy.
“Fang Baolian’s offer is most generous,” Chow Sheng replied in perfect, unruffled English, pushing himself out of the deep comfort of the chair. “Five hundred thousand Hong Kong dollars to forget the unpleasantness between your house and hers.”
“Tell her I’ll see her in hell.”
The Oriental man smiled blandly. “A certain rashness is required for your business, but of the two brothers, I always thought you were the more practical. Baolian’s offer will be available for one week. Send someone if you change your mind.” He walked around the table toward Jessica’s end, his smile directed at Cooper as he said something else in Chinese.
Cooper responded in the same language.
Chow stopped next to Jessica’s chair and spoke again, a soft questioning in his voice, his hand moving gracefully to her shoulder.
In an instant Cooper was on his feet with the old man’s wrist manacled in his fist. Total mayhem would have broken out if Chow hadn’t immediately raised his other hand to quiet the bodyguards.
Chow spoke again in Chinese. Cooper replied in the same language, his voice tight and threatening. When the older man acknowledged what had been said—by the barest gesture of his free hand—Cooper released him.
Studiously ignoring her presence, Chow clapped his hands twice, and he and his entourage exited through the reception area, leaving empty teacups and a surfeit of tension in their wake.
Jessica slowly rose to her feet and took a deep breath. She didn’t know which was more disturbing: that Cooper had risen to her defense, or that she’d needed defending in the first place. From what, she wasn’t sure, but she hadn’t liked Chow Sheng touching her.
She should have listened to George, she thought, her heart continuing to pound too rapidly for comfort. Smart money would have her typing out her resignation before she left that night, it wasn’t too late to jump ship. Now that she’d seen exactly what she’d gotten herself into, she should get out. Piece of cake.
She reached for her tea and took a hesitant sip, her hand shaking. It was obvious what she had to do . . . walk away. It was so simple.
“Damn,” she whispered to herself, rattling the teacup against the saucer as she set it down. Nothing was simple. She wasn’t walking away or jumping anything, and she knew it.
She had agreed to fulfill her contract, and she wasn’t going to be frightened off by a little “big boy” pushing and shoving. With four brothers, she’d had years of hands-on training in dealing with macho posturing.
Of course, what had looked like an intimidating bluff on the part of the bodyguards had looked remarkably like a sincere promise of damage from Cooper Daniels. His willingness to protect her struck a responsive chord deep in her psyche, one she was sure she should have outgrown. It should have galled her to think she needed a man’s protection.
But in a man’s world, playing a man’s game, having a man ready and able to protect her virtue didn’t seem like a bad thing at all, even if it was macho posturing.
Not when the man was Cooper Daniels.
“What did Mr. Chow say that got us into so much trouble?” she asked when Cooper returned from locking the doors behind Chow and his gang. If she was in the game, and she was, then she needed to know all the facts.
He looked at her before walking behind his desk. At first she thought he wasn’t going to answer her question, but then he spoke.
“The most honorable Mr. Chow,” he said, seemingly disinterested as he checked his fax machine, “thought you looked too old to be a virgin, but noticed with great pleasure that your skin was beautiful, like white jade.” He read the fax message, then turned and flipped a switch on his computer. The actions were automatic, casual, but the tension in the room didn’t drop by so much as a degree.
“And?” Shocked as she was by the revelation, she knew there was more.
“He wondered if you would disrobe. If he dismissed his bodyguards, of course.” His fingers moved over the keyboard, punching in commands.
“Disrobe?” Her voice was a hoarse croak of disbelief.
The typing stopped, and she could see the working of the finer muscles in his jaw. A perfectly silent moment passed before he shifted his gaze up to meet hers.
&n
bsp; “I told him you would not disrobe under any circumstances.”
She was grateful, but she sensed anything she might say would be inadequate, or worse, embarrassing.
“And that last bit of conversation?” she asked instead, even though she was afraid of what he might say. It seemed nothing was beyond Chow Sheng.
His eyes held hers across the length of the room, level and compellingly green, the irises still bright with the adrenaline rush caused by the confrontation. “When he accepted that you wouldn’t disrobe in my office like a Chinese slave girl, he wanted to buy you for the night.”
She’d been right. No atrocity was beyond Chow Sheng. His request was shocking and abhorrent. It was also curious and archaic. But curious begat curiosity, and much to her perplexity, she found herself asking the most awful of questions.
“How much?”
“Two thousand Hong Kong.”
She did some quick figuring, and embarrassment blossomed full-blown. “Isn’t that a little on the cheap side?” She should have had more pride than to ask, but a part of her hoped she’d made a mistake in her figuring.
A smile curved the corners of his mouth, and the brightness of adrenaline in his eyes was replaced by a glint of pure mischief.
“Skin like white jade can be a most desirable feature in a woman,” he said. “But the lack of virginity is an irreparable flaw, which, under any circumstances, lowers the value of the goods in question.”
As the goods in question, Jessica showed great face-saving restraint in her reply. “Of course.”
“I probably could have haggled the price higher,” he said, with only a hint of wryness in his tone.
“No,” she said too hurriedly. “No, I think you did the right thing.”
“Personally, I would have offered much, much more for a night with you.”
