“He says he doesn’t remember. Why would he lie?” Amy held her head and sighed.
“Uhm … uhm … uhm,” Mia hummed. “How about his body? I’m sure he showed you how he felt, judging from your well-loved appearance yesterday morning.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Amy dabbed her eyes with a tissue. “He used me and now he’s gone.”
“You told him to go. You said it would hurt less.” Mia’s voice grated Amy’s oversensitive ears. Since when had she become the voice of reason?
“Mia, what’s your point?”
“While he was with you, did it hurt?”
“As long as he didn’t talk, no.” Even now, delicious tingly chills skittered over her hypersensitive skin at the memory of his touch.
“So, why did you send him away?”
That woman didn’t quit. What was she, an annoying oracle?
Amy flung the sheets from the futon. “Can’t you shut up? Teo doesn’t love me. Nothing else matters.”
“How do you know? That’s your judgment of the situation.” Mia rubbed her shoulders. “Meditate on it. I’ll be back in half an hour.”
Amy dropped to the matted floor and knelt on a pillow. Her mind was far from calm.
How can one love without memory?
How can one love with memory?
Is love a memory? What is love? What is memory?
* * *
Amy stepped out of the limo and entered the Yamada mansion compound in Kyoto.
She took a deep breath as she stepped into a pair of slippers. She could do this. It was only a script reading, a private one with the author. She’d already been guaranteed the part, but even if she were to lose it, the worst had already happened, and she was still alive and functioning.
A servant led her to a room resembling a museum filled with armor, swords, and life sized models of fighting men. Calligraphic scrolls hung from the walls among portraits of the Yamada clan lords and rulers.
Kiyoko Yamada’s assistant met her, bowing low. Amy returned the bow.
“Kiyoko Yamada is excited to have the reading at her home,” the middle-aged woman said. “It brings honor to her ancestors.”
Servants brought Amy tea as she unrolled the new script and reviewed it. She would be meeting the Dark Samurai, her character’s love interest at the reading.
“Kiyoko is seated in the auditorium,” her assistant said. “When you are ready, kindly step through the stage door. The studio will be filming the reading, but you needn’t worry. It is a private viewing and will not be shown outside of the Yamada family.”
Amy gulped and tamped down the jitters. “Is my costar prepared?”
“Yes, he’s ready. You go on stage first, and he joins you after your soliloquy.”
Amy took a shuddering breath and tucked the events of the past day behind her. Her career was under her control and the key to her future. Like her character, Akiko Yamada, she would not screw up her future and her family’s honor on a rogue samurai, a man without a heart.
She placed the script on the table and walked onto the stage. She was in her father’s garden plotting her escape from an arranged marriage. Her soliloquy yearned for freedom and self determination. Akiko was not a woman of her times. She would never marry for position and power. As much as she loved her father and her family, she would not be a pawn.
A masked man jumped the wall and clamped his hand over her mouth.
“I’ve come to free you of your father’s vows.”
Teo? He was the Dark Samurai? Or had he cut into the reading? Paid off Kiyoko Yamada’s assistant to let him onto the stage?
“Never. I honor my family. Unhand me, or I’ll … I’ll …” Crap, her breath hitched and she flubbed for her lines.
Teo’s solid body pressed against her. His hand around her waist and hot breath at her ear shorted her brain circuits. He rubbed his cheek over hers. “I’ve watched you from a distance, lovely Manami. My heart knows you as if we had always known each other.”
Amy’s pulse pounded in her ears. What he said was the Dark Samurai’s line, almost, except he’d called her Manami instead of Akiko, her character’s name.
“Leave.” She stepped from his grasp, reciting her lines. “Even though I yearn to be free, I will not be beholden to a man such as you.”
He ripped off the mask. “I’m the man who loves you.”
The sight of Teo’s face threatened to melt her to her knees. His expression was pleading, but strong and resolute, like a warrior’s, earnest, ready for battle.
“You don’t know me. Tell me, what do you love? My family’s wealth? My lineage from the Emperor Meisho?”
“We grew up together. Surely you remember me, your servant’s son.”
So he had read the script. Could he actually be her costar? But how? She hadn’t heard any gossip from the casting director. Everything had been hush, hush, and there was no way Teo had enough experience to pull off a leading, romantic role.
She huffed, screwing her eyes into slits of disdain. “We might have played together as children, but you turned your back and left. You’ve forgotten me. Not a word. And what could I do? Tell my parents I pined for a servant’s son? It’s too late, I’m to be married in a fortnight. Go, and never darken my door again.”
Teo edged closer and bent his head to her face. “I may have lost the memories of our time together, but not the love I have for you.”
Wait. Teo had gone off script. Was he speaking about himself or his character?
Amy trembled from his closeness, his scent and body heat hugging her so enticingly. She couldn’t succumb, not when her every nerve burned for answers. “If you’ve forgotten me, how can you say you love me?”
“I don’t need my mind to know what my heart wants.” His voice deepened, sending shivers of longing through her body. “We were together while I was asleep. You were with me on a bright cloud, surrounded by sparkling waters, high above the darkness of life. You wrapped around me with fuzzy globes of love.”
“Fuzzy globes of love?” Her jaw slackened. Teo sure had a way with words.
“Like pillows and arms and breasts.” His mouth curved into a semi-smirk. “I’m not explaining very well. But it was peaceful and comforting. I’m sure it was you.”
She drew back, retaining her dignity as he tried to conjure memories of her. She could see it in his face, the way his eyes moved, looking inward into his imagination, but unable to land a solid memory of her.
Her heart shriveled, and she cast for a way to let him off the hook. “You were hallucinating. It happens in a coma.”
Teo shook his head and tilted her face up, locking his eyes onto hers. “No, you are my love. I don’t need videos, or text messages, or people telling me about you to know what I know. I might not remember the exact things we did, but as soon as I opened my eyes, I knew you were missing. I panicked, because I didn’t know your name. Later, Tasha and Oba-chan told me about you, how you went looking for my mother. I knew then that you loved me.”
Well, duh. Of course she loved him, but that still didn’t mean he felt the same way. Tears welled in Amy’s eyes and she shuddered to control them. Why wasn’t Kiyoko stopping the reading? They’d long departed from the script. Maybe she’d fallen asleep. Hadn’t Mia said the writer was over eighty years old?
“Amy, why aren’t you saying anything?” Teo caressed her cheeks, her lips, her chin, and her neck. “The reason you love me is because I loved you first. It’s true, isn’t it? Did I tell you I loved you while you were still unsure?”
“Don’t you remember?” She didn’t have the strength to back away. He had told her, and he’d believed it, shown it with his gifts and emotions. What did it matter who loved who first? She slid her hands around his waist and sank against his chest, feeling like she’d come home.
“You remember.” His smile spread and he glowed as if the moon reflected from his face. “I love you, Amy. I love you more than my past.”
Amy’s heart was about
to burst as she gaped at him, the man she loved. Even though he’d lost the memory of their time together, she felt the connection, a quiet understanding, an awareness of truth.
His warm brown eyes encompassed her, flooding her with love, as if she were his world, the sole meaning of his life. There was no need for him to say more.
Her throat frozen solid, Amy could only nod. Nod and gape like a love-struck girl as Teo dropped to his knees.
“I, Teo Kazuo Yamada Alexiou, am your Dark Samurai. Will you accept me as your husband?” His eyes focused on her, he reached into his kimono and swept a solitaire diamond ring, the size of a marble, in front of her face.
All of Amy’s emotions exploded into her throbbing heart. She peered at his eyes, the once sad eyes etched with hope.
“Teo-chan, I accept.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him hard. “I accept everything about you. I love you more than my future.”
Clap, clap, clap. The sound of a single pair of hands came from off stage.
Amy jumped from Teo’s embrace. “The reading. I forgot. I screwed up the script.”
A small figure climbed the steps to the stage. It was Oba-chan. She calmly took the diamond ring from Teo’s fingers and held it in front of Amy.
“I, Kiyoko Yamada, author of the Dark Samurai series, approve.” She slipped the ring on Amy’s finger. “Welcome to the Yamada family.”
Turning to Teo, she hooked her hand around his elbow and winked.
“Grandma always knows best.”
~ THE END ~
Acknowledgments
This is a very strange one, but the first person I want to thank is Teo Alexiou, the hero of this book. He taught me to let go of myself while I’m writing, not to look over my own shoulder and wonder whether I’m hitting the right emotions, describing the right nuances, or what others will think about my “performance.”
As Amy and Teo’s story unfolded, I realized that my writing should flow as part of my being, radiating out of my innermost self. Yes, it will eventually be put on display, but not during the writing process when I, too, should be in the moment of “now.” Later is later, and the past is gone. All that matters is the awareness of the story as it plays itself out.
I thank my Sisters at Heart, not Crime, although sometimes it seems that way. We LOL, ROTFL, LMAO, and JK each other in a way only writing friends can do: Melisa Hamling, Brittney Rhondeau, Emerald Barnes, Stacy Eaton, Melissa Foster, Natasha Brown, Christine Cunningham, Bonnie Trachtenberg, Amy Manemann, Shewanda Pugh, Wendy Young, Lyssa Layne, Kim Cano, Elena Dillon, Jan Moran, Racquel Reck, Geraldine Solon, Sharon Coady, Kathie Shoop, Annamaria Bazzi, Jade Kerrion, Michele Shriver, Christina McKnight, Lauren Stewart, F.L. Williams, and Patricia Zick. Thanks for being only a “chat” away. I’ve met some of you in person and I hope to meet all of you someday.
I am blessed with the most awesome team of beta readers ever! They let me know if what’s on the page is what I meant it to be. Of course, they give me the ultimate gift, their precious time, to help me make my story the best it can be. Hats off to: Amber McCallister, Michele Shriver, Chantel Rhondeau, Kelley Kidder, Lindsay Medina, Patricia Zick, Joanna Daniel, Myra Brooks, and Racquel Reck. You ladies came through with a very fast turnaround with great remarks and insights. Thank you so much!
About the Author
Rachelle Ayala is a bestselling Asian American author of dramatic romantic suspense and humorous, sexy contemporary romances. Her heroines are feisty and her heroes hot. She writes emotionally challenging stories but believes in the power of love and hope.
Rachelle is the founder of an online writing group, Romance in a Month, an active member of the California Writer's Club, Fremont Chapter, and a volunteer for the World Literary Cafe. She has won awards in multicultural and historical romance.
Check out her website at http://rachelleayala.me and find her books at most online retailers.
Fiction: Michal’s Window, Broken Build, Hidden Under Her Heart, Chance for Love Boxed Set, Knowing Vera, Taming Romeo, Whole Latte Love, Played by Love, Playing the Rookie, A Father for Christmas, Claiming Carlos, Roaring Hot!
Nonfiction: Your Daily Bible Verse, Romance in a Month, 366 Ways to Know Your Character
Whole Latte Love (Excerpt)
Whole Latte Love
Excerpt Copyright © 2014 Rachelle Ayala
All Rights Reserved
Carina Chen had no time for nonsense.
“Show off.” She couldn’t help glaring at the shaggy-haired barista as he demonstrated the art of milk frothing to a gaggle of college girls.
Hair flipping and eyelashes fluttering, they oohed and ahhed nonstop while he spun milk underneath the steam nozzle. When he layered the milk over a cup of espresso, they squealed as if they were in the middle of a group orgasm.
Carina elbowed her way through the crowded coffee shop and ordered her cup from the female barista, whose line was much shorter. Serving lattes didn’t require sleek muscles and gem-blue eyes.
“Yummy.” Her friend Sheila checked her watch. “I come just to watch the show. Wonder which one he’ll take home tonight.”
“Only one?” Carina set her cup on the table. “Enough about him. I still haven’t found a room for the summer. Didn’t you say you had a friend needing a renter?”
Sheila stole her gaze from the demonstration of coffee-making prowess and licked her lips. “Yeah, let’s wait for his break, and I’ll introduce you.”
Carina looked toward the espresso machine. “Him? Never mind. I’m not sure I could stomach the guy. He’s got to be full of himself.”
Sheila’s eyes wandered back to the front counter and lingered. “You have to admit, he’s hotter than the Sahara.”
“That’s exactly my point.” Carina watched him hand a steaming mug to a perky cheerleader. His mischievous smile did funny things to her insides and it wasn’t even directed at her. “I need a quiet place to crash after my eighteen-hour days, not some bachelor pad with nightly orgies. I can imagine the revolving door on his bedroom. No thanks.”
Despite her hasty denial, warm flutters bubbled in her belly when the barista stepped out from behind the counter. He was broad-shouldered, but not bulky, and he moved with the easy grace of a mountain lion as he collected the empties. Heck, the man probably boosted Abercrombie & Fitch’s stock price two full points each time he bent over to wipe a table.
“You could at least meet the guy before you pass judgment.” Sheila folded her arms. “Look, the important thing is, he has a great apartment close to the Berkeley BART station.”
Easy access to rapid transit was a point in his favor, but … “You sure he’s safe?”
“I promise. Dylan’s a boy scout. Besides,” Sheila said with a sly smile, “an orgy or two might do you some good.”
While Carina struggled to close her gaping mouth, Sheila raised a hand to wave him over.
Dylan wiped his palms on his apron and pulled a stool from the next table.
“Hey, what’s up?” He greeted Sheila with a nod and trained his eyes on Carina.
Up close, he was even more swoon-worthy. Wavy brown hair hung almost to his neck, and his jaw was stubbly, as if he’d forgotten to shave a day or two. His presence filled all available breathing space between them, and his piercing gaze felt like a tractor beam drawing Carina toward him.
“Dyl, this is Carina Chen. She needs a room to rent,” Sheila said. “She’s working at Mogul this summer.”
“Nice to meet you,” Dylan said. “Investment banking?”
“Intern analyst.” Carina tamped down the pride swelling in her chest as well as a more worrying heat in her lower regions. “I got the offer two days ago, last minute.”
“Cool!” He gave her a thumbs up, and the thick silver cuff on his wrist glinted in the late afternoon sunlight coming through the window. “My roommate moved out two days ago. Must be fate.”
It had to be the sun’s heat that was making her sweat under her suit jacket. Nope, it
was definitely not Dylan’s sideways grin nor the way his veins moved over his large hands when he flexed his fingers.
“How much?” Carina’s voice barely squeaked past her tight vocal cords.
“Your share of the rent’s twelve-hundred a month. We split the utilities. You get your own bedroom but we’ll share a bathroom.”
Sharing a bathroom with a guy might get tricky. Where would she hide her feminine products?
“You’ll love it.” Sheila cut in. “It’s close to shopping, restaurants, and the campus.”
“That’s so much more than I paid in Philadelphia,” Carina said. “I don’t know Berkeley very well. Is that what rentals go for around here?”
“It’s much less than San Francisco, especially the Financial District.” Sheila hopped off her barstool. “I gotta hit the loo. Text me when you’re ready to leave.”
“Wait, I’m not sure.” Carina faltered. Why was she acting like this was a blind date? It wasn’t like she hadn’t lived in a coed dorm before. Besides, a guy satisfied to work in a coffee shop was not her type, so there should be no worries whatsoever about wanting him for a boyfriend.
Dylan placed his smartphone on the table. “I have to get back to the job. Call yourself from my cell so I’ll have your number.”
Zing. His killer grin hit the mark, right between her thighs. The guy knew what he was doing. Oh no, she wasn’t giving her number to that kind of man. She’d ask Sheila if she knew of any women needing roommates. She still had one more day to hit the streets and go over listings, and she most definitely was not going to be another phone number on his to-call list.
“I still have a few other places to check out.” Carina picked up her coffee cup. “Do you think I could get a takeout cup for this?”
Dylan grasped the handle, his fingers lingering a beat too long against hers. “Even better. I’ll make you a new one. This one’s cold.”
Roaring Hot! (Contemporary Romance): A Billionaire Biker Romance Page 24
