by Amelia Autin
He merely smiled at her, and all at once the wine steward was there. Jason didn’t even consult the proffered list, shaking his head to decline it. He glanced across the table at Alana, then told the wine steward, “Champagne, I think. The Bollinger ’96.”
“Excellent choice, sir. I’ll bring it right out.”
As soon as he left, Alana glanced to the left and to the right, then leaned across the table again to whisper, “I meant what I said, Jason. You don’t need a restaurant like this to sweep me off my feet.” She’d tried so hard to build a life apart from her parents and their moneyed world, and at first it bothered her Jason might think he needed to impress her this way. Then her ever-present sense of humor bubbled up, and she chuckled suddenly. When Jason cocked a questioning eyebrow she explained, “My feet are already swept.”
His answering smile was so tender Alana lost her train of thought. Then he extended his right hand across the table, palm up. An invitation. She placed her left hand in his and clasped it, pleading, “It’s a lovely gesture, Jason. Please don’t think I’m unappreciative. But it’s not necessary, I promise you.”
He raised her fingers to his lips. “I know what I’m doing, lang loi,” he murmured. “Please just sit back and enjoy the meal and the surroundings.” He gestured toward the window, and for the first time Alana let herself focus on the incredible night view.
The lights of the city twinkled like diamonds, rubies, emeralds and sapphires on black velvet, and she sighed her appreciation. She was well aware the darkness and the lights cloaked the seamier sections of the city, but from up here it was easy to forget anything one didn’t want to think about.
“The Lobster Cardinale sounds good to me,” Jason said judiciously. “I feel the same way you do about the abalone steak, and—”
“How did you know?”
A faint smile touched his lips. “You have an expressive face.” Then he returned to his original topic. “I don’t know about you, but I’ll pass on anything with even a hint of garlic tonight, so the prawns are out.”
Alana had been thinking the same thing. “I’m not all that fond of lobster, either,” she confessed, quickly perusing the menu in front of her. She didn’t recognize many of the offerings, and without the prices... She loved steak, but she knew it was prohibitively expensive in Hong Kong. In most of Asia, actually. So she wasn’t going to order steak.
“They do an excellent shrimp in lobster sauce here,” Jason volunteered. “And no, there’s no lobster in the lobster sauce.”
She raised startled eyes from the menu. “There isn’t?”
“Nary a scrap,” he reassured her, grinning. “The lobster sauce is actually made with egg whites, but shrimp with egg white sauce doesn’t have the same cachet.”
His grin was contagious, and she just had to smile in return as she closed her menu with a little snap. “Then I’ll have that. I love shrimp.”
“I know.”
And just like that, his suggestive tone made her thoughts wing to the day they’d spent on the water. Jason cooking stir-fry shrimp for her...and everything that had preceded it.
She was grateful for the interruption provided by the wine steward bearing a silver bucket in one hand, a stand in the other. He set up the stand, then reverently withdrew the champagne bottle nestling in the crushed ice. He popped the cork without wasting a drop and handed it to Jason, who sniffed it lightly, then nodded. A small amount of champagne was tipped into a crystal wine flute for Jason to sample.
“Excellent.”
It wasn’t until the wine steward went to fill Alana’s glass that she suddenly remembered. “None for me, thank you,” she said, holding her hand over the top.
The steward shot a shocked glance at Jason, who merely tilted his head in a gesture of dismissal. The man replaced the bottle in its bed of ice and quickly departed.
“You don’t care for champagne?” Jason’s voice was quiet. “I could have ordered something else.”
“It’s not that.” This was the perfect opportunity to tell him about the baby, and she opened her mouth. But the words wouldn’t come. How do you tell a man who’s adamant about not wanting children he’s going to be a father, whether he likes it or not?
“Then...” His voice was even quieter than before. “You don’t feel we have anything to celebrate?”
“Oh, no!” she rushed to assure him. “It’s not that, either. It’s...” She took a deep breath preparatory to telling him, but was frustrated by the return of the waiter. Placing their order seemed to take forever, and when they were finally alone again she heaved a tiny sigh of relief. She slid her hand across the table, palm up, just as he’d done earlier.
When he took her hand, she said softly, “You know I love you, Jason, don’t you?” She’d never actually said the words to him before, but he had to know.
A wary expression stole over his face, almost as if he feared what was coming next. “Yes.”
“I love you, but...I can’t agree with your ‘no children’ rule. I’m sorry, but I just can’t.”
His hand was sharply withdrawn, and its loss made her heart ache. “I thought you’d changed your mind. When did you decide this?” The icy tone in which this was delivered caused her to shiver.
She took another deep breath. “Almost from the beginning.”
“So when you texted me that we needed to talk...this was what you meant?”
Jason’s face was an expressionless mask, but his eyes...all Alana could think of to compare them to was the eyes of a lost and bewildered boy who didn’t understand why he was being abandoned, and her heart broke for him. “No. Not exactly. I wanted to ask you why. That’s all. I thought I deserved to know why.” She bit her lip, but she knew she had to finish. “Then later on I realized why you felt that way didn’t matter, because I couldn’t go through with it.”
“So all this time,” he said with deliberate slowness, “all this time when we talked on the phone...when I confided in you things I’ve never told a living soul...you never had any intention of building a life with me.”
“No! That’s not true!” Alana desperately wanted to cry, needed to cry—for Jason and herself. But she couldn’t. Not here. Not in a crowded restaurant. “I want to be with you more than you’ll ever know, but I...I was praying I could change your mind.”
Jason shook his head, and Alana’s secret dream died. But she forced herself to ignore the pain and say as calmly as she could, “There’s a reason you don’t want children. There has to be. Some crazy reason that makes sense to you. Won’t you tell me what it is? Please?”
She’d never seen a colder, more cynical smile than the one on Jason’s face when he said softly, “If you loved me, my love would be enough.”
* * *
Alana flinched as if he’d struck her, and all the warm color faded as it had done once before, leaving her face pale and still. Jason wanted to retract the words, but it was too late. He’d intended to wound as he’d been wounded...and he had.
Her lips parted as if she was going to speak, but then she closed them again, pressing them tightly together as if to hold in words she’d regret. Finally she said, “I won’t dignify that with a reply.”
She lifted the napkin from her lap, folded it precisely, then placed it on the table. She seemed preternaturally composed, but Jason noticed the slight tremor in her hands. “I’m not very hungry after all,” she said in that civilly polite tone she’d used on him once before. The one that pretended they’d never lain naked in each other’s arms. “I’ll take a cab, but my luggage is in your car.”
He signaled for the waiter. “I’ll take you home.”
“I’d rather—”
Fierce anger slashed through him, and he wanted to shake her. But he contented himself with an implacable “I’m taking you home.”
Chapt
er 17
You don’t die from a broken heart, Alana told herself during the interminable ride home. You just want to.
Neither she nor Jason said a word the entire time—what was there to say? They’d said it all in the restaurant. Jason had drawn a line in the sand, saying, in essence, “If you love me, you’ll do this for me. You’ll give up the idea of having children.”
She could never tell him about the baby now. Maybe it wasn’t fair to him, but that no longer mattered. You have to think about what’s best for the baby. Which meant more than just raising her child on her own. If she wanted to keep the secret from Jason, something she had to do at all costs, she’d have to quit her job and move away, someplace where she’d never run into him. Because if she stayed working for Dirk, Jason would inevitably learn she was pregnant when she started showing. And it wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out he was the father.
She tried to make plans, but her brain wouldn’t function. All she could think about were the questions for which she had no answers, like where could she go? She’d rather beg on the streets than go home to her parents. No way would she expose her child to their prejudices, especially since that child’s father was Eurasian.
What would she live on? Her parents were wealthy, but she wasn’t. She had a small inheritance from her grandmother, the one whose ruby earrings her uncle Julian had given her for graduation. But the principal was tied up in an unbreakable trust, and the income wasn’t enough to live on. Not to pay for her own medical expenses and those of a baby. Unless she put her pride in her pocket and appealed to Juliana for assistance, something she was bound and determined not to do except as a last resort, she would have to have a job. Other women do it all the time, she told herself stoutly. You won’t be the first single mom juggling raising a child and holding down a job. You can do this.
Only...what would she tell Dirk? What excuse could she give him for leaving? She didn’t want to lie to him—he’d been too good to her for her to do that. But if she told him the truth, he’d know Jason was the father. And Dirk being the honorable man he was, he’d insist Jason needed to live up to his responsibilities. Meaning he’d tell Jason, which was the last thing she wanted now.
If you loved me, my love would be enough.
The backs of her eyes suddenly ached when those words replayed in her mind, and she knew tears weren’t far away. But not for herself. For Jason. Because she knew with unshakable conviction he would never have said those words...unless he no longer believed she loved him.
* * *
It was nearly dawn when Jason walked into his penthouse and laid his keys and cell phone in the Ming bowl on the credenza. The need for speed had possessed him after watching Alana walk away from him, but there was no way he would put someone else at risk by racing the Jag on the streets of Hong Kong. So he’d driven to his private dock near Causeway Bay instead. He’d changed on board his yacht into one of the all-black outfits he wore on an RMM op, then had strode back up the dock and had taken one of the RMM speedboats out on the water. He’d donned one of the life jackets stashed beneath the seat the minute he realized he’d forgotten the first rule of boat safety, and once he was clear of the shipping lanes he’d opened her up and let the horses run.
As did all the RMM boats, this speedboat had the latest high tech electronic gadgetry, courtesy of Wing Wah Enterprises, and he’d set course for Macau. Not that Macau held any appeal for him as a general rule. He never gambled...except with his life. And prostitution was anathema to him. But it was a destination. And he’d figured while he was there he could also surreptitiously check out the Eight Tigers’ casinos and brothels. Part of him had known it was the longest of long shots, but he’d theorized at least it would take his mind off Alana, which he’d desperately needed to do.
He’d returned home exhausted, covered with dried sea salt from the ocean spray, and unsuccessful...in putting Alana out of his mind. But he had uncovered something that might be helpful about the Eight Tigers. He needed to turn that info over to the others in RMM working this investigation with him, see if they agreed.
A quick shower took care of the sea salt. A cold bottle of water and a protein bar revived him. But there was nothing he could do about his craving for Alana except suffer.
He rifled through his clothes before stuffing them in the laundry hamper and pulled out the little ring box he’d transferred there earlier from the suit he’d left on the yacht. He’d had some crazy idea of heaving it overboard on the way to Macau, but something had stopped him at the last minute. Not because he still believed they had a future; that belief had died in the restaurant. No, the only reason he hadn’t chucked the ring was because he knew he could turn around and sell it back to the jeweler, then donate the money to one of the philanthropies he supported.
That the amethysts matched the color of Alana’s eyes had absolutely nothing to do with his decision.
He collapsed naked on his bed. Moonlight streamed through the blinds and across the bed, reminding him he’d left them open on purpose. He’d told the maid who maintained his condo in pristine condition on a daily basis to change the sheets. But he’d been the one to arrange bowls of gardenias at strategic points around the room so their erotic fragrance would fill the air. And he’d opened the blinds before he’d left for the airport, to welcome the moonlight into the room for when he brought Alana back here after dinner. After he’d proposed. After she was wearing the ring he’d so painstakingly chosen for her.
Alana. He’d had such plans for her. For them. Plans that meant nothing, now that he knew the bitter truth.
He turned over abruptly, cursing himself for a lovesick fool.
If you loved me, my love would be enough. The words replayed in his mind as they had off and on all the way to Macau and back. Alana hadn’t denied them. She hadn’t insisted he was wrong, that she did love him enough for any sacrifice.
And yet...
He couldn’t forget how pale and still she’d gone when he’d thrown that accusation at her. Couldn’t forget the stricken expression in her lovely eyes. As if he’d mortally wounded her. As if he’d been her judge, jury and executioner.
Shock held him immobile. Was that what he’d done? Hadn’t he told Alana he was willing to break the law, but he couldn’t kill in cold blood? That he wanted to bring the Eight Tigers to justice, not deliver a death sentence?
But wasn’t that exactly what he’d done tonight?
And where was his much-vaunted compassion for the innocent when it came to Alana? Nonexistent, his stern conscience answered. In his anger and pain over not being loved the way he selfishly demanded she love him, he’d lashed out at a woman he’d never wanted to hurt. A woman so beautiful inside and out she could have had her pick of men, but she’d chosen...him.
And why had he accused her of not loving him? Because she wanted his children. Not a crime any way you looked at it—most women felt that way when they loved a man. His own sister had confided she and Dirk were trying for a baby. “Don’t misunderstand,” Mei-li had said. “I love Linden and Laurel as if they were my own. But...”
Hadn’t he understood what Mei-li meant? Hadn’t he seen the wistful expression in her eyes, the desire to express her love for Dirk by creating a child from their love, to bind their lives together in this unique way?
So why had he condemned the same desire in Alana? Because of wounds more than twenty years old?
* * *
The High Tiger laid out his plan. “RMM has interfered with our endeavors once too often and must be taught a lesson.”
“And how do you intend to do this?” queried the enforcer in charge of running the Macau casinos.
The High Tiger smiled slowly. “I have a source who tells me the High Dragon of RMM is enamored of a woman.”
A chorus of “aahs” went around the room as most of the men there immediately gr
asped the cunning nature of the plan.
Only the enforcer in charge of prostitution inexplicably didn’t seem to get it. “What?” he asked, glancing left and right, then seeking elucidation from the High Tiger. “How does this knowledge help us teach RMM a lesson?”
He must go, the High Tiger vowed silently. How did we ever think this man could be trusted with one of our most profitable undertakings? “He is vulnerable through this woman,” he explained patiently. “Therefore all of RMM is vulnerable through him. We do not know who the members of RMM are...but we know who this woman is. We could not strike before because she was out of the country, but she has now returned.”
It took a minute, but understanding finally dawned. “You mean...?”
The High Tiger nodded and allowed himself another smile. “After she has spent time in one of our brothels in Macau...after we have taken photos of her with the men who will pay lavishly to pleasure themselves with her, the same way RMM took photos during their raid on our porn film...after we kill her and leave her naked body exposed, with the photos as a warning. Then RMM will get the message that the Eight Tigers will not brook interference.”
Then he added silently, Yes, and after we take care of this woman and RMM, we will take care of you, my friend.
* * *
Even though it was a Saturday, and was technically one of her days off, Alana threw herself into the work that had piled up in her absence, and not just to keep from thinking about Jason. Loyalty to Dirk, who’d gone above and beyond in proving his loyalty to Juliana and her, made Alana determined to catch up as quickly as possible.
She was just laying the tidy pile of printed responses to the hand-written fan letters on Dirk’s desk for his signature when he walked in. “Hey, today’s Saturday. You’re not supposed to be working.”
