by Amelia Autin
“That doesn’t bother you?”
“That you broke the law...for the right reasons? That you did whatever you had to do to rescue me?” Her oddly colored eyes—almost amethyst, really—glowed with an inner fire, holding his gaze. “What do you think, Mr. Moore?”
He smiled faintly. “Jason, please. And I think perhaps you’re romanticizing what happened.”
She shook her head. “I may be idealistic, but I’m not naive. Tell me that if the men who abducted me had come into the room you would have escaped without me. Tell me and I’ll believe you.” When he remained silent, her voice dropped a notch. “You would have done anything to rescue me. Even if it meant killing those men. Even if it meant dying yourself.”
He couldn’t lie. Not about this. “Yes.”
“I knew it. I knew it that night. You have no idea how much that means to me, knowing there are men like you left in this world.”
“Don’t make me out to be some kind of hero, Miss Richardson,” he began.
“Alana, please.”
“Alana,” he acknowledged. “Don’t make me out to be a hero. I—”
“You are. But that’s not the only reason why I’m—” She broke off, warm color tingeing her cheeks.
Mei-li walked back into the room at that moment, saying, “Dirk’s running late, Jason. Later than you. He said not to wait dinner for him, that he’ll—” She stopped short, and he knew his sister had read and correctly interpreted their body language. “I didn’t tell her, Jason, I swear.”
“I know.” He smiled at Mei-li with a touch of ruefulness. “She recognized my voice.”
Her concerned expression morphed into a smile. “Yes, that would tend to give you away.” Then she looked at Alana. “Since you didn’t say anything to the police about it when they were here, does that mean you don’t intend to? Ever?”
“Don’t put her on the spot like that,” Jason began, but Alana broke in.
“Never.” The implacable way in which the one word was uttered was even more revealing than the word itself. “If your brother hadn’t rescued me, I...I’d be in Macau right now. Forced into...” She shook her head slowly, then turned to gaze at Jason, everything she was feeling reflected on her face. The horror at what could have happened to her. Her fervent gratitude over being spared that fate. “Much as I’d like to help the police find the woman who was abducted yesterday, I don’t think telling them who rescued me will do any good, so your secret is safe with me.”
Jason wanted to make light of his actions, but for some reason he couldn’t think of a single thing to say. He didn’t want Alana’s gratitude. Or did he? Last week his ego had been stoked by the idea that Alana saw him as a superhero. Apparently that hadn’t changed. Because the way she was looking at him? He wanted that. The same way he wanted her.
And he knew he was in trouble.
* * *
Verbal conversation at dinner was almost nonexistent between Jason and Alana. Mei-li kept the conversation going by addressing questions to both of them, questions they were forced to answer. But in between their gazes locked on each other, and they communicated without words.
Don’t look at me that way. You know nothing about me, his eyes said.
I know everything important there is to know, hers replied, then added, I could say the same to you about me. You know nothing about me.
His eyes flickered down to her wrists, which still bore the marks of the rope that had bound them—the rope she’d struggled against—then back upward. You’re a fighter. You refused to surrender. And when I showed up you knew not to ask questions right then. That tells me all I need to know.
Even after Dirk arrived, full of apologies for being late, Jason and Alana continued their silent conversation over the curried chicken.
I’m a criminal...in the eyes of the law.
You answer to a higher law.
Jason had believed that about himself since he’d found his true calling the day Sean had been buried, but he’d never thought he’d find a woman who understood. Was it possible? Could Alana understand? Truly understand?
Long before dinner was over Jason knew he wanted to see Alana again. And not just because he was physically drawn to her, although he wouldn’t lie to himself—there was a strong physical element to his attraction. But he also craved an opportunity to talk with her one-on-one, to get to know her as a person. And that was new for him. His previous relationships with women hadn’t prepared him for this at all.
Your own fault, he chastised himself. You gravitated toward women who knew the score. Who were expecting exactly what they got from you...and nothing else. And who gave you exactly what you asked of them...and nothing more.
The thought brought him up short. Had he become so jaded he hadn’t allowed himself to find the woman he’d been searching for all these years? Had he let his money and his complicated childhood become a barrier...and a self-fulfilling prophecy?
And what did that mean where Alana was concerned? Wouldn’t she be better off if he left her the hell alone?
* * *
The Eight Tigers only met as a group a few times a year as a general rule. But the enforcer in charge of prostitution had asked for this special meeting, and the High Tiger had acquiesced...once he knew what the other man had to report.
“We are back on target,” the man boasted to the assemblage. “A new woman has been added to our premier house in Macau.” His eyes took on a lascivious leer. “She is quite a prize—I have sampled her myself.”
The High Tiger ignored the expressions of disgust on the faces of three of his fellow Tigers. Prostitution was not to every man’s taste, especially when women were abducted and forced into one of the Eight Tigers’ illegal brothels. Which was why those men were not in charge of the prostitution arm of their criminal organization.
This was business—an extremely profitable one for the Eight Tigers. It generated nearly as much money as heroin, cocaine, ecstasy and the other illegal drugs they dealt in, which he privately deplored but allowed to continue because the market was too profitable to ignore.
So just as he suppressed his personal dislike of that enterprise for the good of all, so, too, would the men who objected to forced prostitution. They might be personally disgusted, but they would say nothing, do nothing. Nothing at all.
* * *
It was very late by the time Jason left. Alana said her good-nights to the DeWinters and headed for her bedroom, unable to get Jason out of her mind. Also unable to eradicate the terrible disappointment that he hadn’t asked to see her again. She’d given him as much encouragement as she could without being too obvious, and a bubble of excitement had sustained her throughout the evening. Now her bubble had burst, leaving her crushed.
Could she have mistaken the very male intent in his eyes? She didn’t think so. She wasn’t that naive. She’d dated steadily in high school and college, and had already gently turned down three marriage proposals, one of which had caused her a pang because she’d known the man had genuinely cared about her, unlike the other two who’d proposed only because her family’s money and prestige made her a “suitable” bride for someone in their social stratum.
But she’d never found a man whose kiss, whose touch, made her want more. Had never even come close. She’d been so concerned she’d even mentioned it to Juliana. Her cousin had reassuringly dismissed those fears, saying, “Don’t sweat it, honey. It’ll happen, I’m sure. Some women are just a one-man woman. I was. All the men I dated in Hollywood? Zip. Zilch. Zero. But with Andre...” Juliana had laughed softly, suggestively, adding, “When you meet him, you’ll know. Trust me.”
Jason hadn’t kissed her. But he’d touched her a week ago. And just like that, she’d wanted him. As if her body had recognized he was the one she’d been saving herself for...even though she hadn’t consciously been
doing it for anyone.
But apparently Jason didn’t feel the same way, despite what she’d thought were their nonverbal exchanges this evening. Had it all been in her mind? Had she imagined the emotional and physical bond that had seemed to spring to life between them?
Alana brushed her teeth, donned her pj’s and slipped into bed, still wondering. Then buried her face against her pillow. “Right, Jules,” she muttered, using her pet name for her absent cousin. “When I meet him I’ll know. Terrific advice. But what if he doesn’t feel the same way? What then?”
Her smartphone chirped in the stillness.
She scrambled out of bed and rushed to answer it. “Hello?”
“Alana?” She caught her breath, because only one man said her name that way. Only one man’s voice made her go weak in the knees. She didn’t even need him to say “It’s Jason Moore” to know who was calling her.
She clutched the phone tightly against her ear. “Hi, Jason.” Then couldn’t think of another single, solitary thing to say except, “How did you get my cell phone number?”
He laughed softly, and her nipples tightened until they ached. “I’d better not tell you. I don’t want you to think I’m stalking you.”
She let her breath out in a whoosh, and only then realized she’d been holding it. Jason called you, she exulted as she padded back to her bed and slipped beneath the covers. It wasn’t your imagination after all.
“I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“No. I wasn’t asleep. I was hoping you’d call.” Which wasn’t exactly true, but true enough.
“I debated with myself for the longest time,” he admitted. “My better self said I shouldn’t. But here I am, calling you.”
“I’m glad,” she whispered. Then she focused on what he’d said. “Why would your better self say you shouldn’t? Couldn’t you tell that I...” She cleared her throat. “What I mean is, I’m a nice person. At least I think I am—most people like me.”
His voice deepened. “It’s not you, it’s me.” Then he laughed suddenly. “And isn’t that the stereotypical response when you’re trying to brush someone off? ‘It’s not you, it’s me’?” The humor fled his tone. “But in this case, it’s true. I can think of a hundred reasons why you should avoid me like the plague, and only one reason why you shouldn’t.”
“And that is...?”
He breathed deeply in her ear. “Because a connection exists between us, whether we want it to or not. Physical and emotional.”
She didn’t even hesitate. “Yes.”
“You admit it.”
“Yes.”
“Then would you spend the day with me tomorrow? It’s Saturday. Are you free?”
“Yes, I am, and yes, I will. I’d love to.”
There was silence at the other end until he said, “You don’t play games, Alana.” The approving note in his voice wasn’t lost on her.
“No, I don’t play games. But I also don’t...” She couldn’t quite bring herself to finish that statement, but he finished it for her.
“You don’t sleep with a man on the first date.”
Warmth inundated her cheeks, and she couldn’t tell him that not only did she not sleep with a man on the first date, she also hadn’t slept with any man. Ever. But she hadn’t been tempted before. She hadn’t known Jason before. If she had, she wasn’t sure she’d still be a virgin at the ripe old age of twenty-six.
Once upon a time that wouldn’t have been an issue. But nowadays it made her an anachronism. And everyone assumed—men and women alike—that she had more experience than she actually did. Men in particular thought a woman who was still a virgin at this age either had to have strong religious beliefs about chastity or wasn’t into men at all. Neither of which was the case for her. She just hadn’t met a man who made her want to sleep with him. Until now.
“You don’t have to worry, Alana. Do I want to sleep with you? Absolutely. But would I pressure you when you’re not ready? Never.”
“I know you wouldn’t. It’s not you, it’s me.” As soon as the words left her mouth she laughed, embarrassment combining with dismay. “Oh, no, did I really say that? What I meant was—”
“Part of you wants to...but you’re not sure.” His deep voice curled through her. “Don’t worry. When you’re ready, and not a moment sooner. You’ll be as safe with me as you want to be.”
Which only raised the question in Alana’s mind...how safe did she want to be?
Chapter 5
Just over two weeks later Alana and Jason stood on the sidewalk in the Ladies’ Market in the Mong Kok district, browsing the gaily colored scarves on display at a stall. “It looks like silk to me,” she said, stroking one that had swirls of amethyst fading into lavender blue, colors she loved. “But how can I really know?”
“Easy.” Jason took the scarf from Alana and rubbed it between his fingers. “Real silk will feel warm when you rub it.” He made a sound of dismissal. “This isn’t real silk.”
“It’s beautiful, though,” Alana said wistfully.
“Yes, but the price he’s asking is unreasonable. You need to bargain.” When Alana hesitated, because that wasn’t something she felt comfortable doing, Jason turned to the smiling shopkeeper, saying something in rapid Cantonese she figured was an offer. And from the exaggeratedly shocked expression on the shopkeeper’s face and a couple of words she recognized, it was a lowball offer.
“How much?” she whispered.
“Shhh. He probably knows more English than he lets on. Let me handle this.”
Five minutes of heated bargaining later, Jason drew a banknote from his wallet to pay for the scarf. “Wait,” Alana said, tugging at his arm. “I can’t let you—”
He ignored her protest, pocketed his change, then dexterously looped the scarf around her neck and tied it in a festive bow. He smiled down at her. “It’s less than the cost of our lunch,” he said patiently. “You didn’t say anything about that.”
“That was different.” She struggled to explain. “That was a...a date. Like all our other dates. This is a gift.”
He brushed back a lock of her hair that had fallen forward and tucked it behind her ear. “The scarf was made for you. It matches your eyes, you know.”
“Yes, but...”
“I paid a tenth of the asking price. Not so expensive.”
“Yes, but...”
“It gives me pleasure to see you wearing my gift, Alana. Would you deny me that small enjoyment?”
When he put it that way, she could only accept with as much grace as she could muster. “Thank you. It’s very sweet of you. I just don’t want you to think I expect...that is, I can afford to buy...I mean—”
“I understand. And I’ll answer the question you wouldn’t ask. I can afford it.” His smile was tender. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice you picked the least expensive item on the menu at every restaurant I’ve taken you to these past two weeks?”
Now she was really flustered. “Oh, I...”
* * *
It was really quite endearing, Jason thought. But did she honestly not know he could well afford to buy her anything her heart desired? But you haven’t driven the Jag since you began taking her out, his conscience reminded him. You didn’t want her to know...
Alana came from money. Mei-li had told him all about it, including how Alana had ended up as Dirk’s executive assistant. But there was money...and then there was money. Millions versus billions. Just as he didn’t want Alana to confuse gratitude over her rescue with the attraction she felt toward him, he didn’t want her dazzled by his immense wealth, either. Which was why he’d rented a middle-class car for his dates with her. He didn’t mind her knowing he was comfortably well-off. He wasn’t going to pretend to a life of poverty. But he wasn’t going to flaunt anything, either; was
n’t going to announce that he could buy and sell her father’s company ten times over.
He took Alana’s arm and they continued strolling down the crowded street. They paused every now and then to look at something that caught her eye, but she wouldn’t let him buy her anything more even though he offered several times.
Jason was well aware he and Alana drew more than their fair share of interest from the people they passed. He was taller than most Han Chinese, for one thing. And he didn’t look Chinese. But cosmopolitan Hong Kong was used to British, Australian and American residents and tourists, so both of those things would have been quickly dismissed...if he hadn’t been with Alana.
Young, delicately beautiful, with long, dark hair, which she wore down, and those unusual eyes. Did she know her resemblance to her famous cousin Juliana—long acknowledged as one of the most beautiful women in the world—made both men and women give her second and third glances? Covetous looks from the men, envious looks from the women. She didn’t seem to be aware, and that intrigued him. He’d been with beautiful women before—his wealth drew them like bees to honey. But other than his mother and sister, he’d never known a beautiful woman who didn’t trade on her beauty. Who didn’t play it up every chance she had.
Until Alana.
She was wearing a simple lavender blue sundress today, which had been unadorned except for a simple silver locket until he’d bought her the scarf. Sandals on her slender feet meant lots of bare leg showing, which would have drawn comments of the wolfish variety in Cantonese...if Jason hadn’t been at her side.
He’d brought her here to the Ladies’ Market deliberately, although he hadn’t told her that. This wasn’t the same street from which she’d been abducted three weeks ago, but it was similar. And in a strange way Jason had wanted to make sure she wasn’t afraid to return to the scene of the crime, as it were. Hong Kong was his city. He’d spent years in England attending an elite boarding school like his father before him, then studying at Oxford. But Hong Kong was his home, and most likely always would be. He didn’t want one bad experience to taint Alana’s perception of the city.
