Temptation Of The Moon: A Silver Moon Novel

by L. S. Slayford

  “You must have a funny idea as to what constitutes a dream. Trust me, I’m everyone’s idea of a nightmare,” she replied, willing the red stains on her cheeks to disappear but knowing that it was deepening the longer she stayed sprawled across the floor. “I can’t go anywhere without knocking into anything or banging into someone.”

  A light chuckle flittered down to her ears. “Duly noted. Do you normally cause such a mess when you bump into things and people?”

  A crease formed between Tara’s brows, not understanding his words. Then she glanced down. Papers streamed across the floor, black lettering standing out against the light marble-effect tiles. Her bag lay on its side, half its contents sprawled over the tiles, her folder open and empty. “Damn, damn, damn,” she muttered angrily to herself, jerking out of the stranger’s arms and reaching for the papers. It was only when she glanced down at a sheet of paper that she realised it wasn’t one of hers. Graceful Chinese characters stared up at her, and she marvelled at the intricate beauty of them before she handed it to the man who had saved her from examining the floor up close. “These are yours, I believe.”

  “Thank you,” he told her, placing it in a pile next to his open briefcase. “It would be hard to finish this project without the necessary paperwork.”

  Tara gave him a knowing smile. “I can imagine. The joys of paperwork, right?”

  “Oh yes. My life wouldn’t be complete without all the paperwork I have to deal with.” Something tingled in the bottom of Tara’s stomach at his teasing laugh. Quickly, they gathered up the remaining paperwork, and Tara stuffed what belonged to her in her bag.

  Standing, Tara took a better look at the man who fate had decided to torment that day. She estimated him at around six-foot-tall, with short black hair combed back off his face. Wearing a dark grey suit tailored to his slender frame, and a white shirt that brought out the warmth of his cinnamon-coloured skin.

  Damn, girl, at least you picked a nice one to bump into, the voice in her mind told her. Tara had to agree. He did look good. There was something about a man in a well-tailored suit that just made her want to stop and stare. And wipe the drool off her chin.

  Finally swallowing the lump that had formed in the back of her throat, Tara opened her mouth as she quickly glanced at her feet, embarrassed. “I’m so sorry I bumped into you. I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

  Briefcase in hand, the black leather glistening in the sunlight, he shrugged, a graceful gesture. She looked up at him, her breath catching in her throat as one corner of his mouth turned upwards. “Not at all. I’m just glad I caught you before you hit the ground.”

  Tara sighed, her shoulders slumping. “Yeah, that would have made a great way to start my holiday.”

  “Has nothing as exciting happened on any of your other trips?”

  Tara shook her head. “Actually, this is my first trip.”

  “By yourself you mean?”

  “No, my first trip ever.”

  Black eyebrows rose in surprise. “Your first trip ever is to Macau?”

  A smile broke out over Tara’s mouth, and she tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve always wanted to visit the Far East, especially Macau and Hong Kong. A chance came up to come here, and I thought why not? It’s about time I did something for myself.”

  “Indeed. That’s a good attitude to take. But why are you alone? Why not bring a friend?”

  Tara shrugged. “No one could get the time off work, or else they have young children to look after. No one was able to come with me. But truthfully, I’m glad. I wanted the time to myself. This trip is going to be my experience. All by myself. A little selfish perhaps, but at least it’s honest.” Tara opened her mouth as she listened to the words pouring out. Another wave of embarrassment flooded through her. “Oh my god, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not really some heartless woman. It’s just … just that I -”

  The stranger just laughed and held up his hand. “It’s OK, and I don’t think you’re a heartless woman. It’s natural to want to have some experiences all to yourself once in a while. It’s good for you. This has been the first time I’ve saved a beautiful young lady from landing on her nose, so it’s been quite an experience for me, too.”

  Tara found herself laughing at his words, although she quickly bypassed the beautiful bit. She wasn’t bad looking, but beautiful? No. Just average. “Well, I’m glad I could help you achieve this once-in-a-lifetime experience. May you have plenty of equally as exciting experiences to come.”

  The laughter continued to flow between them, and those whiskey-coloured eyes drew her gaze, locking with them. Both sides of that full mouth rose, and the glint of white teeth shone between those lips. “I always welcome exciting experiences,” he purred, his gaze dropping down to Tara’s lips before meeting her eyes once more.

  That prickle of something tingled in her belly once more, and it was only when her lungs demanded air that Tara realised she had been holding her breath. A sizzle of excitement coursed along her nerves, streaming throughout her body. The heated smoulder in his dark gaze forced her to clench her thighs together. Clearing her throat, Tara tried to ignore the feeling. “Do you know which the way is the exit, please? Hopefully, there will be taxis outside.”

  Nodding, the stranger twisted his body and pointed to the back of the terminal. “Just head that way. You can’t miss it.” Turning his gaze back to her, he dropped the smile. “Could I offer you a ride to your hotel? I’m just picking up my luggage and then will be heading to the city.”

  Blowing out a steady breath, Tara offered him a small smile and shook her head. “Thanks, but I couldn’t trouble you any further than I’ve done so far. I’ll be fine with the taxi.”

  Giving her a small nod, he took her hand in his and raised it to his lips. The tingle in her stomach intensified under the softness of his lips. “I’m sure you will. Have a safe trip, lanzai. And welcome to Macau.”

  Cong

  Cong watched as the red-headed beauty walked away from him. Even in the busy crowds, he could easily spot her. Several inches shorter than himself, her hair helped her to stand out from a distance. Mind you, it was easy enough to spot anyone who was hobbling up and down. Christ, what woman these days would buy cheap shoes with heels that would snap in the middle of an airport? He didn’t know any woman who didn’t spend hundreds of dollars on a single pair.

  Even if the damned shoe hadn’t snapped, she had caught his attention. If he was honest with himself, he had been watching her as she manoeuvred her way around the crowds, even from a distance. Her flame-coloured hair had drawn his attention, like a moth to a flame. That creamy coloured skin was flawless, and those black trousers moulded to her slender frame like a second skin. He wasn’t keen on the baggy red top that attempted to hide her curves, but he knew that they were under there alright.

  Cong exhaled as the image of her walking towards him sprang to mind now she had finally escaped his line of sight. Lacking the grace that many of his ex-lovers possessed, she certainly had a fresh appeal to her as she had come close to him. Thank all the gods that her heel broke just as I was standing there, he thought to himself. She had fallen into his arms – literally – like she was an offering from the gods themselves. That smooth skin was softer than he’d ever known, and it was all he could do to restrain himself from reaching for her once again after she had slipped out of his hold and started gathering the papers from the floor.

  “Definitely one way to mark the end of this trip,” Cong muttered under his breath as he waited for the carousel to start bringing out the luggage. Damn, he needed a drink. The meeting was a disaster waiting to happen, and if he didn’t get a start on trying to fix it, then the shit was going to hit the fan.

  The last forty-eight hours in Tokyo dealing with Fujimara Industries had been a nightmare. Everything that could have gone wrong did go wrong. From the sloppy organisational skills of his secretary’s new assistant, to the tyre blowing out on the limo on the wa
y to the meeting. If he didn’t know better, he’d say the whole damned venture was cursed.

  But no curse was going to stop him from sealing a multibillion-dollar venture.

  There was nothing in the world that could stop him from making money. It was all he lived for. Each project closed caused satisfaction to flow through him like a cool breeze on a summer’s day. From researching various companies, to unravelling the secrets of their CEOS, their portfolios, to setting up meetings, it was a rush. Of course, the greatest rush was when everyone’s signatures had been signed and the money was in the bank. So to speak.

  Yes, there was nothing quite like it. Not even the most beautiful women in his arms – or between his sheets, for that matter – could rival the rush that flowed through his veins when all that money was firmly his.

  It may have sounded cold, heartless, maybe even ruthless, but what did it matter? It wasn’t as though he had anyone for him to be a mentor to, to provide a good standing for. No wife, no kids or parents, and his grandparents were dead. No, all he had was himself to look out for.

  Well, almost.

  Shaking his head as though to cast away the flashes of the past before they could even take hold, Cong reached down for his luggage. Damn, he hated travelling when it was busy. Everyone wanted to talk about nonsense, or they kept bothering you for stuff. Even in first-class everyone wanted to chatter. Surely first-class was there so you didn’t have to deal with the hassle of talking to perfect strangers.

  Just as he was turning to go, his phone vibrated in his pocket. Stepping to the side so he was out of the way of a middle-aged woman reaching for her bags, Cong set his briefcase down and withdrew the device. “Yes?” he asked, the tinge of tiredness evident in his voice, even to his ears.

  “Hey, boss,” came a raspy voice down the line. “You off the plane yet?”

  Rubbing a hand over his weary eyes, Cong nodded. “Yeah, not long got off. Just grabbing my bags then heading home. Did you get the fax I had Angela send over?”

  “Yes, got it. I didn’t like the looks of it though.”

  “Oh. Why not?”

  “The lawyer for the Japanese company is one smart cookie. Put a lot of details into the contracts he thought we’d overlook.”

  “But you’re smarter, Zhihuan,” Cong replied, the corner of his mouth turning upwards.

  A chuckle flowed into his ear. “Damn straight I am. That’s why I work for you. No one can beat you in the boardroom, and no one can beat me when it comes to contracts.”

  “What little surprises were they attempting to throw at us then?” Cong asked, knowing that the Japanese firm would try their best to relinquish all their assets to him. They could attempt it, but they wouldn’t succeed.

  Zhihuan snorted in disgust. “You wouldn’t believe the crap they tried to include. I could barely control my laughter when I read it.”

  “Well, we expected that they would try a few things. It’s a multibillion-dollar business; they don’t want to give up too quickly.”

  “They’re going to have to. Fujimara Industries are heading down shit creek without a paddle as my wife says.” Although Zhihuan had almost as much love for money as he did, Cong couldn’t help but smile at the man’s love for his wife etched into his tone. For the last eighteen years, Zhihuan had been his lawyer. Over the years, both had enjoyed an endless string of affairs with women – some for a few months, others for a single night – but six months ago, the lawyer had finally allowed a woman to drag him up to the altar. Melissa was smart, gorgeous, and took a no-nonsense attitude with her man. Born and raised in Beijing to American parents, she knew what she wanted and ensured she got it. Poor Zhihuan, he never stood a chance, Cong laughed to himself.

  Not that he would ever allow himself to succumb to that. Oh, hell no. He wasn’t falling for that. Love was acceptable for others, for books, for movies and songs, but in real life? No way. I’d rather be single, thank you very much, he thought. Falling in love was not on his schedule. Love was a distraction. Sure, women were essential once in a while – a relief from a constant ache in his groin – but one woman, on a full-time basis? Nuh huh.

  Over the years, and especially since he started making a name for himself, Cong had enjoyed the company of countless women. Chinese, Korean, Japanese, American, Canadian, Australian, Indian, African, all beautiful, sexy, with grace and poise. Actresses, models, singers, the wives or daughters of his business rivals. Yeah, he had them all. In spite of how gorgeous they all were, or how skilled in bed, none of them could tempt him to deal with them for longer than a month or two. He couldn’t afford to deal with them for longer than that. He just didn’t have it in him. So it was flowers, chocolates, an expensive piece of jewellery, and a ‘thank you for all our time together but business calls and all that,’ and it was back to work.

  Mind you, I could give up a night of work for that red-head. The thought popped up in his head without warning. Those curves under the red top were there, and he hadn’t seen a ring on her finger. Not that a wedding band would stop him. If women were happy with their husbands, then they wouldn’t cheat. But those green eyes of hers sparkled in a way he had never seen before. It was as though two rings of creamy jade had been positioned on her face, and her lips were full and perfect for his own mouth to sample. By the gods, what was happening to him? She was gone, and he didn’t get her name, so it wasn’t as though he had any means of pursuing her. When was the last time he got laid? Maybe that’s all he needed.

  “Cong? Cong? You there?”

  Shaking his head once more, Cong realised Zhihuan was waiting for an answer.

  “Yeah, I’m here. Sorry, it’s been a hell of a few days. What were you saying?”

  A sigh flowed down the line. “I think we’d better go over these reports and contracts and you can tell me what you want to do. If they’re going to play with the big boys, let’s show them who they’re dealing with.” Satisfaction and arrogance coated Zhihuan’s words.

  “Fine,” Cong replied. “Be at my place in an hour. Let’s get this sorted. I’ve got a ton of stuff to get done this week. The quicker we sort the Japanese project out, the better.”

  “Damn. Melissa had plans for tonight,” Zhihuan said, hesitation now replacing the earlier satisfaction.

  The man really didn’t like pissing his wife off. “The quicker you get there, the quicker we can get this done, and you can get back to your wife. At least I know who rules your house,” Cong teased.

  Laughter sang in Cong’s ears. “I keep telling her that I’m the head of the house, but all she says is that she’s the neck and will turn me any way she damn well wants.”

  Cong chuckled. Melissa was a petite brunette, standing only five-foot-tall, but she could take a grown man down with only a few words and a ladle. “I believe her. See you in an hour.”

  “One hour,” Zhihuan repeated before hanging up.

  Releasing another long sigh, Cong slipped his phone back into his pocket but made no effort to pick up his luggage. Instead, he remained where he stood, watching the crowd, something he didn’t usually do. Light streamed through the many windows that lined the building, and despite the air-conditioning that blasted chilly air throughout the terminal, he could already feel the heat from outside. It had been surprisingly cooler in Tokyo for that time of year, and Cong longed for the same temperature there. Hundreds of people flowed around him, some clutching their bags tightly as they hurried through customs and towards the exit, while others languished, taking their time. Endless voices in various languages flowed throughout – Cantonese, Mandarin, Japanese, English – the din was constant, yet strangely comforting.

  Every few weeks Cong found himself traipsing through the terminal, off to some city somewhere to close a deal. Never had he been this tired on arrival though.

  The sounds of luggage dropping beside him shook him out of his reverie. A young Asian girl stood close to him wearing a yellow sundress, and rubbing her wrist. Sweeping her long black hair out of her f
ace, the girl looked resolved as she reached down for her bag. For a second, Cong held his breath as he watched her pick up the suitcase and walk away, straining with the height of the bag. She held his attention while his brain struggled. It’s not her, Cong repeated in his head, almost like a mantra. There were striking similarities, but the girl wasn’t her.

  Eyes closing, the image of a young girl sprang before his eyes. At first, all he could see was a yellow dress, and long black hair fluttering in the breeze. Then a face came into view. Dark hooded eyes peeked out behind tendrils of jet-black tresses, then a rounded nose, and finally, a sweet smile. The blue sky behind her was clear, the mist melted away by the morning sun. Suddenly, she was gone, running away from him, towards the bank of the river, the water deafening in his ears.

  “No,” Cong muttered, the word a harsh growl to his ears. Opening his eyes and clenching his jaws tight, he reached down and picked up his luggage. The sensation of leather in his grasp was comforting. This was real. This was real. Images were not real.

  He strode towards the exit where he knew his limo would be waiting. It was time to go home. Grab a shower, get something to eat, maybe call up Ling. Her husband was out of town for another week, and she was always up for a secret liaison or two. God knows, the fat bastard she was married to had enough women on the go, the poor girl needed her own sexual outlet. Yeah, that wasn’t such a terrible plan. Get his bodily needs seen to, and then he’d be able to concentrate on wrapping up this project.

  After all, that was what mattered the most. Not a gorgeous redheaded woman he’d caught in his arms, or an image in his mind. The deal was all that he needed right now.