by C J Matthew
“Yes. Your housekeeper will have cleaned out everything. Given it to the needy.”
Downstairs at the mall, Devlin handed over Shinsuke’s USB drive to Mr. Hana while Yori went to purchase new sheets for one of the guest rooms.
They split up to raid a favorite gourmet store and the cheese shop across the way. Devlin spent the trip back to the corner market near his condo recalling his mate’s every word and all her different expressions.
At home, he sank down on the couch in the living room while Yori enlisted the butler and one of the doormen to finish unloading the sedan. The building had a big cart to bring the grocery bags up on the elevator.
After only a few minutes of quiet and inactivity, Devlin’s worry set in. He pictured his beloved mate bloody and broken in a car wreck, buried alive in an earthquake, facing a killer tsunami.
Hell, he could shift and probably rescue her from a tidal wave.
Right, if the sight of a huge sea dragon didn’t give her a massive heart attack first. Idiot. He shook his head like a dog after a swim.
Having a mate was fucking complicated.
Chapter 6
Portia
Portia grumbled and swore under her breath as she zig-zagged the tiny rental car through the holiday traffic to her small budget hotel. She desperately needed a shower and a change of clothes before she faced Obasan. Damn it. Their brunch get-together was scheduled for tomorrow. Until the old lady called while Portia was at the mall tea shop and out-of-the-blue summoned Portia to a command appearance today. Two hours from now. God, she hated it when people changed appointments at the last minute.
She squeezed the car into a non-parking spot, slammed the driver side door and raced for her room. According to the old lady, Portia’s all-important job interview had been rescheduled as well.
“You’ll receive the official email from HR this afternoon,” Obasan had announced in a smug tone, “informing you of the new date and time, tomorrow the 2nd.”
One silver lining? If it was true, if the interview took place tomorrow, then the whole questionable spy arrangement with Obasan would stop tomorrow.
What the hell was really going on? Sure, a little mystery now and then added spice to life. But Obasan had pole vaulted over that line into genuine, spooky intrigue. Actual cloak and dagger shit. Shedding her clothes, Portia stepped into the tepid shower and shivered.
Maybe she should rethink applying for the new job? A press of disappointment descended on her shoulders. Damn it. She loved Japan and one of the main attractions of the new position was the Tokyo location. And after today, maybe she could add the prospect of a torrid affair with Devlin Rudraige. Casual sex with that man would be an extraordinary job perk not listed in the annual report or mentioned in the corporate brochures.
Portia rinsed away her scented soap in the rapidly cooling water, turned off the shower, and stepped out. Interviewing early would give her an extra vacation day in Japan. After pouring over all the options, she’d booked a four-day sightseeing tour by train. Which left her a day or two after the tour before she was booked to fly home to Chicago.
She grabbed one of the thin bath towels. Holding it up, light shone through the flimsy fabric. “It’s going to take more than one of you,” she muttered and dried herself.
In front of the aging mirror, she popped off her shower cap. No time to shampoo and dry. Besides, a style with her hair up was more professional. Weaving sections of her thick hair into several heavy braids, she secured them atop her head. Dressing for dinner with Devlin rather than tea with Obasan, she passed on the expensive suit and chose her favorite dress and matching coat. Portia stepped into her heels just as her phone chimed with a text.
Obasan. Sent the limo for you. At hotel entrance in thirty minutes.
Score. Portia did a brief victory dance over the short distance to the closet for her gloves and scarf. Please let the driver be the same one as last night. An easy-going guy who wouldn’t let on to the boss what a crappy hotel she’d chosen.
In the back of the limo, she helped herself to a tiny glass of the expensive sherry. Fortified, she swore last night’s friendly chauffeur to strict secrecy about her hotel accommodations.
“I thought you had the holiday off,” she said. “Why are you working today?”
“The almighty yen. What’s your excuse?”
“Same reason.” She shrugged even knowing the driver wouldn’t see it. “I can be as greedy as the next person.”
The limo pulled up at the Ritz-Carlton and the uniformed doorperson beat the driver to her car door. “Show-off,” Portia whispered under her breath.
On the curb she called back, “Thanks, Archie,” to the driver. “See you later.”
Inside the soaring marble-floored entrance, she started toward the concierge desk but he, too, came forward to meet her.
“Miss Sullivan?” he asked with a bow.
“Yes.”
“Your party is already upstairs. We serve high tea on the forty-fifth-floor lobby lounge.” He escorted her to the elevator and bowed again.
In the posh room full of well-dressed people, Obasan was holding court at a round table directly in front of one of the floor-to-ceiling windows offering a spectacular view of downtown Tokyo. As she approached, the several ladies bowed politely to Obasan and hurried away.
Portia hesitated, unsure how to greet her temporary boss.
“Sit down,” Obasan commanded in her velvet-over-steel voice. “Tell me, on a scale of one to ten, how good a kisser is Devlin Rudraige?”
Oh hell. “He’s easily a twelve.”
“I just knew he would be,” the older woman said with a wistful sigh. “Did you spend the night with him?”
Portia stiffened and frowned. “Obasan, the fact that you’re my beloved godmother, and your son Shinsuke is interviewing me tomorrow for a position at Ichiban Shipping, does not give you the right to ask me that question.”
“Fair enough.” She gave Portia an imperious nod. “Allow me to rephrase. On a scale of one to—”
“Stop,” Portia begged, as an embarrassed giggle escaped her lips. “If you must know, following the Skytree party I spent a couple of fun-filled hours with two handsome, virile men. Archie, your very skilled chauffer and Len, the hunky security man. Now, on a scale of one to—”
“Touché. And today’s trip to the mall?” Obasan arched one penciled brow and looked superior.
“That is an embarrassing story. This morning, Devlin caught me tailing him. Tracked me to the mall where I went attempting to hide.”
Her godmother continued to smile as the server delivered a tea service and a stacked tray of finger foods and pastries.
After enjoying several sweets and a cup of tea, Portia leaned closer and whispered, “Godmother, Devlin recently completed a secret computer search as a favor for someone. You know everything that’s happening from the Keihin hub on Tokyo Bay to Hanshin on Osaka Bay. Plus everything in between the super ports. Who would ask Devlin for help?”
“I’m not aware of anyone asking Mr. Rudraige for assistance or a favor. However, now you have me intrigued. I’ll put out discreet feelers and let you know what I hear.”
“Domo arigato gozaimasu, Obasan. And am I officially off the hook?”
“Do not presume to use American slang when speaking to me.”
“Sorry. Have I fulfilled the terms of the task you assigned to me? The favor? May I now discontinue spying on Devlin?”
“Yes, my darling girl. I have all the information I need. What are you planning to wear for your interview tomorrow?”
An hour later, she kissed her godmother goodbye and left the family matriarch signaling to one of her cronies to join her at the table for a chat.
Portia sought out a quiet corner in the main lobby and texted Devlin.
Finished with business. What time is dinner?
Devlin texted back: Where are you? I’ll pick you up. We’ll get an early start on the sunset.
Not here. She
pulled up Google map and studied the coast for a minute. Hell, she didn’t know where to tell him to meet her. Besides, she wasn’t in the mood for a busy restaurant, or more crowds. She craved alone time with Devlin.
Portia had experienced lust at first sight before and managed to ignore the feeling both times. New Year’s Eve had been the only time she’d surrendered to the impulse and kissed an almost total stranger. Now that she’d talked to him and he was no longer her target? She longed to do a lot more than kiss him.
The frequent thoughts of climbing his naked body, were driving her crazy. Contemplating him putting her into an orgasm-induced-coma, was driving her wild. She jumped to her feet and headed for the main door where Obasan’s limo would be waiting. For some reason the taciturn bodyguard Len joined them this trip.
Settled in the back seat, Portia sent a text to Devlin: On my way to you. Where we can watch the sunset, eat dinner, and enjoy each other.
When the limo rolled to a stop in front of Devlin’s building, he stood on the curb waiting for her. He handed her out of the vehicle and into his warm embrace. The breeze was cold next to the water and she snuggled against his hot body.
Len closed the limo door and awaited instructions.
Devlin looked up and said, “You won’t be needed again tonight. I’ll be taking Ms. Sullivan back to her hotel.”
Knowing Obasan’s staff wouldn’t leave without Portia’s say-so, she turned back and waved. “Thank you both.”
As Len bowed, Devlin tightened his arm around her waist and urged her inside. “It’s getting colder.”
Exerting iron-willed control, she dug her nails into her palms to kept them off Devlin’s tempting body during the ride up in the elevator.
He didn’t seem to notice. “Would you like a tour of our, uh, my condo?”
“Sure. Maybe later?”
“We won’t get much of a sunset. The clouds have been rolling in for the last hour.”
“No problem.”
The elevator stopped at the top floor. Devlin guided her through a foyer and turned into a massive, ultra-modern kitchen boasting every appliance known to man.
“Come see the view from the terrace.”
She pressed a hand to his chest, and he stopped in his tracks. “Wouldn’t you like to kiss me now?” she purred.
His pupils dilated and the muscle in his jaw clenched. “More than I want my next breath.” Covering her hand with his large one, he drew in a deep breath and both their hands rose together. “Problem is, if I start, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”
Lifting her hand, he kissed her fingertips. “Portia, I’m seriously crazy about you, which is why I’m determined to go slow. Let you get to know me. So, why don’t we decide what to cook for dinner and we can share our food likes and dislikes.”
The man wanted to talk about food preferences? But then he had to be certifiably crazy to believe he was any more anxious for a physical affair than she was.
“I’m only in Japan for two weeks,” she said. “After a job interview tomorrow, the rest is vacation. Since I’m crazy attracted to you, I was hoping to seduce you. Right now.”
Shock and desire battled across Devlin’s chiseled face. What was his problem? Could he possibly believe there was any valid reason for them to wait? To hold back? Midnight marked the twenty-four-hour anniversary of their meet-cute. A stolen kiss.
She pulled her hand away from him and planted her feet. “You just said to me, I’m seriously crazy about you. Define seriously crazy.”
“I was hoping we could have longer than two weeks. More than a brief affair.”
What? “I can’t imagine how that’ll work. Where do you see us in three weeks, after I’m back home in Chicago?”
Devlin looked like somebody kicked his puppy.
Holy hell, the man wanted a relationship with her?
Chapter 7
Devlin
Devlin opened one of the French doors to the terrace, stepped out into the cold, gathering darkness and sucked in sea air. Well, oily, fuel laden sea air. His dragon had been overjoyed when they’d assisted Portia from the limo, hugged her, and she’d hugged back. Since that high point, for fully the next hour, his beast had rampaged, argued, threatened, and grumbled non-stop. Devlin could barely think straight. He needed to reach a compromise with the beast before his head exploded.
Our mate. She wants us to claim her. The sea dragon was adamant.
Not exactly, buddy. Try to be patient. She does want sex so we’re part of the way there.
Yes, sex. Claiming.
One step at a time. We need her to fall in love with—never mind. How about we have sex soon and claim her later?
Now. Show her our hoard.
He pressed his fingertips to his temples and groaned. The hoard was the sea dragon’s go-to solution for every problem. Devlin had convinced Portia the two of them needed to talk, to establish ground rules for their affair over dinner. She’d looked affronted but agreed. The beast wasn’t nearly as cooperative.
Our mate. She’s our mate.
Listen up, pal. This is important. You need to pipe down while we eat, and I talk to Portia. Got it?
Claim—
Shut the fuck up.
He swiped his hands over his face. “I need to say the right words,” he whispered to the cloudy sky, “Or we could lose her.”
Silence from the sea dragon. Good.
“The oven timer went off,” Portia said from the French doors. “Let’s eat.”
“This is delicious,” Portia commented after a few minutes of quiet chewing. “Who knew you could cook.”
“Not just another pretty face.”
She smiled. “Let’s talk business for a minute. I’ve officially completed my stint as an amateur PI.”
“No more tailing me and taking pictures?”
“All done. And I sent you the photos of the woman at the apartment building.”
“And I passed them along. We’re good there.”
She’d stopped eating. Eyes averted, she used a fork to push around the vegetables remaining on her plate. “Once I met you, it occurred to me to be concerned about why I’d been asked to follow you. After speaking to Obasan today, I’m sure her motives were benign.”
“I’ll have to trust your judgement on that.”
“Are you all done with your favor?”
“My friend has the finished results of the computer work and your photos of the woman. I expect a call tomorrow. If he’s looking for more help from me, like tailing the guy whose apartment just got trashed, I’ll decline.”
Or Shinsuke might ask him to do something more dangerous. Like go undercover on one of his ships. Devlin’s stomach did a queasy lurch. Lurking, trying to watch Hoffman for suspicious activity? Spy on the man with bomb parts? Suspicious activity like planting an explosive? That was not happening.
He touched Portia’s hand and she lowered the fork. When she met his gaze, he said, “Can we address our situation? I want very much to make my personal goals clear.”
“All right.”
“Without any debate on the existence of Instalove or love at first sight?”
“Yes.”
He laced his fingers through hers. “When you initiated our amazing New Year’s kiss, besides experiencing an off-the-charts-attraction to you, I was also bowled over by your obvious bravery and spontaneity. In other words, before I was consumed by desire, I respected and admired you.”
“I see.”
“During your surveillance of me, did you observe what a trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, brave, clean, and reverent person I am?”
“Devlin, you’re just listing Boy Scout virtues. And you left out thrifty.”
“I cannot tell a lie.” He hung his head. “Look around you. Thrifty?”
She managed to swallow a gurgling laugh. Barely.
Great. He could keep things light. Squeezing her hand, he said, “Since you don’t yet realize wha
t a prince I am, that puts me a step ahead on the discovery path. Now, one important issue we face is the time constraint. And the last thing I want is to pressure you. So, I suggest, as soon as your interview is over, we spend your remaining days in Japan together, enjoying a physical relationship while we learn all about each other.”
“I’ve already booked a four-day train tour.”
“Note me being flexible and accommodating here. Either I can book the same tour and we’ll go together—you know, travel is a surefire way to quickly reveal a person’s true personality—”
She waited, then prompted, “Or?”
“Or, you can create a custom, expanded itinerary, and we’ll see more parts of the country we want to see, make more Japanese friends, and all while traveling at our own speed.”
Judging by her expression he’d hit a bullseye.
“Very tempting,” she admitted. “What happens if I discover you’re a rich frog?”
He slid his free hand further under the table and crossed his fingers. “I’ll drive you to the airport myself.”
“Good answer.”
“Shall we have dessert and brandy in the library? Or popcorn and candy watching a movie?”
“A test?”
“Not at all. More getting to know you.”
“Which movie?”
“Take a look at the list and you choose.” He brought a tablet from the kitchen counter, opened the program and propped it on the table in front of her. “Films are alphabetical by title or genre or actors. TV shows and miniseries are separate.”
“How many movies do you have?”
“Thousands. And how will you know which are my favorites? There’s a tiny number beside the title, indicating how many times it’s been viewed. Usually by me.”
She tapped Romance and scrolled through the titles. “Where do we watch?”
“Bring your list and I’ll show you.”
He escorted her to the private elevator built into the far corner of the condo. Two floors down, the doors opened to the recreation floor.
Devlin led his mate into the game room and indicated a solid wall in the middle of the space.
