He was staring at her, the expression on his face indiscernible. In the seconds before he answered, she took in the sight of his high cheekbones, smooth golden skin, and the light shadow of beard covering his jaw and upper lip. That, combined with the bag he carried, gave her the impression he’d been traveling. “I’m not certain. I’m looking for someone.” His voice was surprisingly gentle and polite considering his rugged looks, and his English was tinged by a heavy accent, as if he knew the language well, but had rare occasion to speak it.
Before she could respond, the bell on the door chimed again. She looked up, aware that he did too.
Auntie Yee, Grandfather’s girlfriend for many years, came in, her eyes looking strained. She usually looked younger than her sixty-five years, but since Grandfather died, she’d aged. She’d known Meg since Meg was a girl and had often helped Lao ye look after her.
“Da Ma, are you all right?” She slipped into Mandarin, the language Chen had raised her with her whole life.
Auntie Yee waved off her concern. “Oh, one of my headaches. My head feels like it’s going to explode. I just came to say good morning.” The tiny woman reached the cash register before noticing the man standing next to her. She acknowledged him with a brief nod.
Meg furrowed her brow. Auntie Yee had been like a mother to her and she hated to see her in pain. “Have you been to the doctor?”
Auntie Yee waved again. “No time. Too much sewing.”
Meg sighed. Truthfully, she knew the headaches had begun right after Lao ye passed away. She turned to the assortment of medicines, scanning the shelves for something that might help her. She knew what most of them were, she was just uncertain how to prescribe them.
“Excuse me, maybe I can help?” The man’s soft voice reached through her confusion. The mere tenor of the sound vibrated inside her, unnerving her as severely as if Bruce Lee had, indeed, come into the store.
She looked at him, her gaze suddenly trapped in those large brown eyes.
“I’m a doctor,” he said. “May I be of service?”
Meg nodded and looked at Auntie Yee. “Perhaps he can find out what I need to give you.”
Auntie Yee looked uncertain for a moment, and Meg knew it was because she didn’t want to impose. But to Meg’s relief, the older woman nodded. “Thank you,” she said softly.
The doctor set down his bag and jacket and picked up one of Auntie Yee’s hands. He pressed two fingers to the pulse point on her wrist.
Meg watched him, stealing glances at his face, at the light shadow of beard offsetting his soft full lips. She looked at his hair, smooth and glossy, short cropped around the sides and a bit longer on top, as dark as a raven’s wings. Her gaze slid guiltily down his arms, over the contours of rounded muscles, over the smooth dark hairs on his forearms. The lustful way she perused his body reminded her that she’d gone much too long without a man’s touch.
The doctor listened to Auntie Yee’s pulse for what seemed almost a full minute, then tilted her chin gently upward with a forefinger and looked into her eyes. “Let me see your tongue, please.”
Auntie Yee opened her mouth slowly, seeming embarrassed. Meg found herself wishing she were in Auntie Yee’s place right now. The doctor seemed to have such a gentle touch.
Finally, he nodded and released her.
Megan and Auntie Yee both looked at him.
He nodded again. “I see that you’ve had some distress and have been eating too much of certain foods, heavy dense things like animal proteins. They are irritating your sinuses.” He turned to Megan. “Do you have Pe Min Kan Wan?”
She nodded at the familiar name. Grandfather had always kept that medicine in stock. “How much does she need?”
“One course for now. That should be one bottle.”
Megan reached for the little green box and set it on the counter. “Here you go, Da Ma.” She looked at the doctor. “Thank you very much.”
“Yes, Doctor, thank you.” Auntie Yee smiled, though Meg could clearly see that the doctor’s mention of distress had reminded her of the man she’d loved. The older woman put money on the counter. She and Meg both knew Meg would give it back to her later, but Yee had always had difficulty accepting help.
Auntie Yee turned to the doctor. “Please, let me repay you.”
He held up a hand. “No need. Only if you get better.”
Auntie Yee bowed to him. “Thank you.” She looked at Meg. “Bye, daughter. I must go back to work.”
Meg smiled at her. “Feel better.”
Auntie Yee bowed again and bustled out of the store.
Meg turned to the doctor, vividly aware that she was alone with him again. The first rush of customers didn’t usually begin until seven-thirty. “That was very kind of you, thank you,” she said. “She’s dear to me.”
A boyishly shy smile curved his lips. “It’s what I do.”
The way his eyes warmed nearly took her breath away, a surprising feat considering the breakneck speed her heart was pounding. “Are you certain there’s nothing I can offer you in return?”
“Nothing, thank you.”
“At least a cup of tea?”
His smile widened and a touch of humor sparked in his eyes, deepening their chocolate hue. “All right, I can accept that.”
Chapter Four
Meg smiled and came out from behind the counter. She indicated the small table in the corner next to the register. Grandfather had always kept it there for his friends who came to sit and drink tea with him every afternoon. “Please sit down.” She’d already made a large coffee urn full of tea as she did every day for herself and the customers and poured him a cup from the spigot.
She set the cup on the table in front of him, poured one for herself, and sat down, taking a quiet moment before customers came in. She sipped her tea, observing his polite, graceful mannerisms and watching the corded muscles in his forearms flex as he lifted the cup to his lips. She wondered briefly if it were truly possible to fall in love with a man just watching him sip tea. “I’m Megan, by the way. Megan Phillips,” she said when he’d set his cup down.
He held out his hand. “Jie Sing. Pleased to meet you.”
She accepted his hand, which closed around hers warmly. His touch was strong yet gentle and sent a jolt of heat up her arm. To her chagrin, a light pulsing began between her thighs. Another moment passed before she realized she was staring at him, and she blinked as if shaken from a trance. It had been a very long time since a man had had such an effect on her. Come to think of it, she didn’t ever remember feeling quite this taken with someone, especially so soon. She found herself not wanting to release his hand.
He, too, seemed reluctant to let go, though after one more second, he squeezed her hand gently and released it. A look of bewilderment clouded his eyes, and he picked up his tea, seeming to use it was a way to busy himself, and took a sip.
Meg swallowed past a lump in her throat. She hadn’t been this nervous since Ben had first asked her out years ago. “You said before Auntie Yee came in that you were looking for someone?”
He nodded and set down his cup.
Meg’s eye caught the tiny movement in his throat as he swallowed the tea, and she experienced the most wicked urge to press her lips to his neck.
A shadow passed across his eyes, but disappeared just as quickly. “Yes. Can you tell me, the name on the sign, Chen, is he here?”
Meg’s hand closed around her small teacup. “No. He ... passed away six months ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
She nodded, avoiding his gaze. The sympathy in his eyes made tears threaten to well in her eyes. “He was my grandfather.”
“Your grandfather?” He sounded clearly puzzled, and she knew exactly why.
She looked at him and smiled. “I know. I don’t look like I’d be his granddaughter, do I?”
He frowned, looking sheepish. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean --”
“It’s all right. My father was a tai chi student of Gr
andfather’s. He was white.” Megan found herself spilling the story of her heritage to the doctor. Something about his quiet, gentle manner made her feel like she could tell him anything. “My parents were killed in a plane accident when I was nine. I’ve lived here with Grandfather ever since.” She looked briefly into her cup, feeling suddenly foolish. “I’m sorry. You probably didn’t need to know all that.”
“Nothing to be sorry for. Nothing at all.”
She looked at him, feeling her cheeks burn. There was something in the way he spoke that warmed her and made her know he was completely sincere.
“I lost my parents when I was eighteen,” he said softly. “Not as young as you were, but I know how it feels.”
“I’m sorry.”
He nodded. “Thank you.”
“What happened, if I may ask?”
“They were killed in Tiananmen Square during the student protests. By the People’s Liberation Army when they opened fire into the crowd.”
Meg’s heart wrung painfully. “That’s terrible.”
He nodded. “You’re very kind. But I was fortunate to have a godfather who’s been there for me. Li Yun Po. I believe he knew your grandfather.”
Meg immediately knew who that was. Grandfather had spoken many times over the years about Li Yun Po, his boyhood friend in the Shaolin temple. Grandfather and Li had been very mischievous and were always getting into trouble with the abbot. She rose from her chair and picked a framed photograph off the nearby wall, taken of Grandfather and Li just before they parted. Two young men of sixteen standing side by side peered out from the sepia tones of the photograph. Grandfather was dressed in a Western style traveling suit while Li still wore the baggy traditional Chinese trousers, shirt and cap.
She extended the photograph to the doctor. “This is Grandfather with his friend. They corresponded for some time after Grandfather reached America, but lost touch when Li was relocated to Tibet by the Communists.”
The doctor took the photograph from her. His fingertips brushed hers lightly. Just the whisper of his touch sent warm thrills into her hand and up her arm. Her mind went fuzzy and the room tilted slightly.
She cleared her throat and watched him study the picture, his thick dark lashes resting against his high cheekbones as he looked down.
“Yes,” he said after several moments. He looked up at her. “This is Li.”
Meg sat back down, her heart beating hard, both from the arousing effect this man was having on her and from the excitement of this visit from Grandfather’s past. In the next moment, she realized that Dr. Sing must have come all the way from China to find his godfather’s friend, only to find he’d passed away. She sighed. “I’m sorry, Dr. Sing. You’ve traveled such a long way for nothing.”
“Please, call me Jie.” He smiled, causing her heart to gallop. “And I didn’t come here for nothing.”
The bell on the door tinkled before Meg could respond. She turned to see the first customers coming in. The traffic would be steady for the rest of the day. She felt a stab of disappointment. Jie would probably leave now. She looked back at him. “I’m sorry. The customers are coming. You’re ... welcome to stay.”
He nodded in that polite way of his. “Yes, I will.”
She smiled, ridiculously happy to hear those words. “Wonderful. Help yourself to tea. It’s right here.” She pointed to the urn. She smiled at him again, feeling almost giddy. “Excuse me.” She turned abruptly to make herself available to the customers before she began to babble like a lovesick teenager.
The moment he said he’d stay, Jie went into turmoil. He wondered if Megan Phillips could be the woman he sought. If she was his mate, then he needed to claim her and protect her from the other lang ren. But if she wasn’t, it meant there was another woman out there somewhere who was vulnerable to his opponent.
He sat quietly, with his hands around his teacup, his contemplative posture belying the storm inside him. Truthfully, the thought that she might not be his mate greatly disappointed him. Megan’s scent, a female musk unlike any he’d ever experienced, churned the very air he breathed, making him dizzy and aroused. Since he’d been bitten and his senses sharpened, he’d become aware of all females’ scents, but none were as strong, as deliciously overpowering as Megan’s. His groin tightened each time their eyes met, and her smile, sweet and sad, seared him in a place so deep inside he’d almost forgotten it was there. In just minutes, she’d revived part of his heart he’d thought Su Lin had taken away with her, or that the PLA had stolen when they murdered his parents. If that alone wasn’t the sign of a mate, he couldn’t imagine what was.
He listened to her voice as she helped the customers, the soft, gentle sound resonating deep inside him, stirring his heart.
As the time passed, his hope that she was his mate intensified. Something about her very essence comforted him as much as it roused his desire. In spite of his confusion, he found that in her presence, he felt calmer and more peaceful than he remembered feeling in many years, perhaps ever.
He didn’t want to leave. He couldn’t.
She, too, seemed to want him to stay. Her face had lit up like no woman’s ever had just from his saying he would stay. As far as he could see, she didn’t have a husband or a boyfriend. Perhaps she was very lonely. No doubt she was grieving for her grandfather, whom she’d obviously loved very much. There also didn’t seem to be anyone else who worked here, meaning Megan ran this place by herself. He admired her strength.
She also understood his losses, having suffered in the same way. Their lives, though at once different, seemed to have followed very similar paths, making him feel a deep connection to her through the men who’d been their teachers and dear friends.
For what seemed a long time, he sat observing Megan while his tea grew cold in the cup. A few times he overheard a customer asking her about medicinal herbs for a certain ailment and he volunteered an answer, touched each time by the gratitude and sweetness in her smile when she thanked him. By late morning, he’d felt almost as many pulses as he did on an average day of his practice back in China.
Li’s astrological chart seemed to have led him to Megan’s doorstep.
And he wasn’t going to leave until he knew for sure.
He looked down again into the light golden tea in his cup. The clues Li had given him now echoed in his mind. Smooth ivory. Deep jade. Golden silk. The words sounded like a puzzle to him. Somehow he sensed there was a deeper meaning to them than the mere words implied.
It didn’t seem logical that a woman would be his mate simply because she could give him these objects. He was in Chinatown and, no doubt, silk, jade and ivory were substances that he could find in abundance in any shop that sold Chinese imports. In that case, any woman who sold such items would qualify as his mate. This didn’t make sense.
No. There had to be another answer. Li always told him that the answers would be inside him if he looked and if he believed he could find them.
Smooth ivory. Deep jade. Golden silk. He tapped a forefinger absently against the teacup as he reflected. Each substance mentioned invited the senses of touch and of sight. By touching, one could experience the softness, the smoothness of each beautiful thing. By looking, one could see the colors that mystified the heart.
But he couldn’t see colors. Ever since he’d been bitten, he could only see in black and white.
However, what if he could see color? What colors would they be? Ivory. Very pale, near white. Jade, green. And the silk, golden, perhaps like the sun, or like wheat. It was not so long ago that he could have seen these different hues.
Suddenly, as if someone had flipped a switch, Jie understood. His heart yawed in his chest and prickles of heat skittered over his skin. He looked up at Megan.
She’d just finished with a customer and there was no one else in the store at the moment. This lull was his opportunity.
She was smiling at him and coming out from behind the register. Her gaze went to his teacup. “Would you like
some more tea? Yours must be cold by now.”
“Megan, I need to ask you something.” He hadn’t meant to ignore her offer of hospitality, but his inquiry couldn’t wait. It was everything.
Her brow furrowed and her eyes clouded. “Of course.” She lowered herself into a chair. “What is it?”
“I know you’ll think I sound crazy, but I promise I’m not.”
She nodded. “All right.”
He sat up in his chair. “I’m colorblind and I need to know what color your hair is.”
A shy smile touched her lips. “Blonde.”
“May I ... may I touch it?”
“Okay.” She looked puzzled, but thankfully, not offended. She reached up and pulled out a pin, unwinding the bun and loosening the ponytail. She held out the long strands.
Jie’s heart raced. He reached out and took the very ends between his fingertips, caressing it gently. Her hair was soft, dreamy, making him wish it was loose and that he could bury his face in it while he held her in his arms.
Golden silk.
He released her hair, pretending that touching it hadn’t made him wild with desire for her. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She coiled it up and pinned it back into its bun.
“What color are your eyes?”
“They’re green, like my father’s eyes were.”
Deep jade.
He didn’t need to ask her about her skin. It was pale. Pale as ivory. He could see that much. “May I see your hand? I’m sorry if I sound strange. I promise I have a reason.”
She looked at him. “I believe you, Jie.” She reached her hand out to him.
He accepted it, trying very hard to suppress the raw jolt of heat that shot through his groin at the contact. He let her hand rest in his, turning it over, palm down while he caressed her skin with the fingers of his other hand. There was only one word to describe the way her skin felt under his searching fingertips. Smooth. Smooth ivory.
TOL2 Kiss of the Werewolf Page 3
