He slid the portfolio out of her surprised hands. “That is a pity.”
She eyed him when he cupped her elbow and urged her toward the door. “Why?”
“You are a beautiful woman.”
She didn’t presume that he meant it as a compliment. “I suppose you believe I should be more concerned with nonbusiness pursuits?” They’d arrived at the elevator and he released her elbow as he pushed the call button. “Maybe you think I’m only suited for finding another husband who can keep me in diamonds and Botox.”
“You prefer a marriage of emotion, I suppose.”
The elevator doors slid open and she stepped inside. “Contrary to popular belief, I did marry for love. And, quite honestly, I can’t imagine feeling that way again.”
Mori followed her into the elevator and pressed the button. “My daughter claims she never wants to marry.”
“She is only twelve.”
“When I was her age, my parents had already arranged my marriage.” He looked from the lights of the floor display to her. “Kimiko wants only to move to America and be famous.”
“Doing what?”
He seemed to shrug without ever truly moving a muscle. “I think she has not decided on that, yet. As long as it is very…American.”
Her stomach swooped a little, a result of the elevator’s rapid descent. “And you disapprove.”
“She would do better to apply her passionate interest to her schoolwork than to whatever fad currently has your country in its grip.”
At least his voice had lightened. She smiled in response. “Now that sounds like a typical twelve-year-old.”
He smiled a little, too, but didn’t comment.
She could guess what he was thinking, though. Probably the same thing she was. That her only experience with twelve-year-old children had been when she was one. They both knew she’d never been involved in her own daughter’s life when she was twelve.
The elevator slowed abruptly and the doors slid open to the silent, cavernous lobby. The only occupants were three security guards, who stood and greeted them as they passed and stepped out into the evening.
The same car as the other day waited curbside and Mori headed toward it. “Come. We will eat and not discuss business. That can wait for the next time we sit around the conference table.”
Her stomach swooped again, but this time she couldn’t blame it on the elevator. “Then what will we talk about?”
He lifted his hand toward her, palm upward. His hooded gaze settled on her face. “Something will come to us.”
Involvement with this man over anything that wasn’t business—even something as simple as a walk in the park or dinner—was a mistake.
She knew it. She knew it.
But she stepped forward anyway and put her hand on his.
Chapter Four
Mori was not certain what had prompted him to ask the woman to dinner. The same nonsensical thinking that had prompted him to accompany her to the park.
Both decisions were inexplicable.
Except that he could not rid himself of the image of Helen, alone once again.
She was silent as Akira drove them away from the TAKA building. Was she merely looking out the window at the passing lights, or was she wondering as much as he was what they were doing there together?
Business did indeed make strange bedfellows.
“I thought we would go to the Anderson hotel.” He finally broke the silence. “The restaurant there is admirable.” International food and international clientele. Helen would be quite at home.
“Yes, it is a lovely restaurant. I’ve eaten there several times.”
There was nothing in her voice to indicate dissatisfaction, nothing in the composed expression revealed by the on-off flicker of neon as they drove. For some reason, he still sensed it.
“It is uncomfortable for you to go there? The Andersons are—”
“Oh, no,” she cut in quickly. “I’m very comfortable at the hotel’s restaurant.”
Even if it was owned by the man who had adopted her daughter.
She did not voice the words, but Mori added them anyway.
She made a little sound. “With you having a suite there, I certainly don’t have to tell you how wonderful the restaurant is. But it’s been comfortable for me. Very…Western. I don’t have to worry about showing off how inept I still am eating with o-hashi. It’s silly, and nothing for you to concern yourself with, truly. I just…well, I find I’m missing my own kitchen.”
“You cook?”
She turned a little, until she was facing him more squarely. Her hair gleamed like a beloved pearl in the dim light. “I’ve been known to attempt it.” Her voice was slightly dry. “I wasn’t always married to a man who had a raft of household staff. George never understood that I actually liked fixing meals. That was Cook’s job and that was that.”
“Sumiko—my wife—preferred to be the organizer.”
Her smile widened. “Plan the meals, but leave the actual preparing of it to the chef?”
He did not know why he had mentioned his wife. Particularly when he so rarely thought of her. “Yes. It is refreshing to have a meal at home.” His words were sincere. Though he had not been to his own home outside the city in many weeks. “I also enjoy the kitchen. When are you planning your return to the United States?”
She took the abruptness of his question in stride. “Looking forward to getting rid of me?”
“Shiguro may be feeling some anticipation.”
She laughed softly, then waved her hand. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t laugh. Your brother is a credit to the TAKA organization.”
Shiguro was. But Mori was not unaware of his brother’s annoyance with having Helen involved in their negotiations or that he was an easier mark for their father when it came to influencing him against the Hanson deal.
“Actually, I was thinking how long it had been since I was at my home.”
“Where is that?”
“A few hours north of Tokyo. A very small village where I was born.”
“The original Taka-ville?”
He smiled faintly. “Something like that. Nesutotaka. My mother’s home is there though my father prefers to spend most of his time at their apartment here. He finds it difficult to be too far away from the office.”
“You succeeded him only a few years ago?”
He nodded. “We agreed to speak of other matters,” he reminded.
“So we did. Tell me about Nesutotaka.”
“You would consider it…old-fashioned. It is wooded and very green. No proper roads.”
“No concrete high-rises?”
“The only high-rise is the mountain that overlooks the village.”
“It sounds lovely.”
“Kimiko, my daughter, loathes it.”
“Kimiko.” Helen sounded the name softly. “What does it mean?”
“Essentially, beautiful child.”
“Kimiko,” she repeated again, nodding. “What a wonderful name. I suppose for a twelve-year old girl, Nesutotaka is pretty tame.”
“Dull was the word she last used, I believe. She is most happy to stay at her school, or at my father’s home. He does not indulge her liking for the more modern culture, but he has television, at least.”
“Does she stay with you at all here in Tokyo?”
“My duties are not very interesting to her, either,” he said drily. “She stays with me very rarely.”
She fell silent for a moment. “You must miss her.”
“Yes.”
“Well, perhaps she’ll grow up and work side by side with you at TAKA. Be the first women in a senior management position there.”
“She will make a suitable marriage.”
Helen made a soft sound. “Have you already picked out her groom?”
“There are families I would consider.” His father was already greatly displeased that the matter had not been fully arranged.
“And what about what
Kimiko wants?”
“Kimiko will please her father.”
Her brows rose a little. “Oddly enough, you just sounded like my father. He was adamant about what I would or wouldn’t do, as well.”
“It is a father’s duty to see to the well-being of his children.”
“I’d rather think of it as a father’s privilege.” Her voice had noticeably cooled.
“You are American. You have no reason to understand this thinking.”
“I understand that my father ruled his family with an iron fist, because that was his duty. I don’t think he once considered what was truly best for our welfare.”
“Our?”
“My mother. My brother. Me.”
“You are close?”
She shook her head. “My mother died several years ago. My father still lives in a small town in upstate New—” She broke off when the phone in the console discreetly beeped.
“Please excuse me.” He answered, knowing he was not going to like the results as soon as he heard the voice of Kimiko’s headmaster. He listened, watching Helen from the corner of his eyes.
She had looked out the window again in a polite attempt at offering him some privacy.
“I will come by tonight,” he cut off the headmaster’s stream of excited chatter and disconnected the call.
Yes, he missed his daughter, but he did not miss Kimiko’s present path of mischief.
“Problem?”
“An inconvenience.”
“If you need to pass on dinner, I’ll understand.”
Canceling at this juncture would be unacceptable. “The headmaster of my daughter’s school. He will wait.”
“Is she all right?”
Did he seem so cold that she thought he would ignore Kimiko if she were not? “Until she must face her father, she is.”
“And it is none of my business. I’m sorry if it sounded as if I were prying.”
Her voice had regained its formal cadence. The pearl that glowed from human contact now looked cool and distant. No less lovely, but far less valuable.
“The school is near here. If you would not mind delaying our dinner a short while, I can attend to the matter, and we can dine after.”
She made no movement, yet her demeanor immediately softened again. “I don’t mind in the least. But your daughter may wish to have dinner with you.”
He doubted it. He pushed the intercom button that connected the rear of the limo to Akira. “Stop at Kim’s school.”
“Hai.”
“I hope she isn’t in very much trouble,” Helen said after a moment. “Your expression is…fierce.”
He realized he was frowning and tried to stop.
A smile played around Helen’s lips as she witnessed his effort. “There is an expression. ‘Turn that frown upside down.’ Have you heard it?”
“No.”
She made an exaggerated frown and touched her finger to the corner of her lip, nudging upward. The frown became a smile.
“Silliness.” Kimiko would undoubtedly be enthralled with the woman.
“I think everyone needs a little silliness in their lives. Particularly men with twelve-year-old daughters.”
“And what is the silliness in your life?”
“Well…” Her hands lifted slightly, then fell back to her lap. “Maybe I’ve been a bit remiss in that area in my own life, lately.”
He touched his finger to his mouth and pushed up.
Her head tilted. “You should get an A for effort,” she assured, amused.
“And a D for results.”
At that, she laughed.
And he felt the frown finally ease from his face. “You are an interesting woman, Helen.”
“So you’ve said. I still am not entirely certain why.”
“I find you…curious.”
“Like a bug to be studied?”
He found he did wish to study her. For unfathomable reasons. Yes, she was a beautiful woman. But he had beautiful women available to him whenever he chose.
What was different about this woman?
The car pulled to a stop in the curving drive that fronted his daughter’s boarding school. “There is a small garden if you would like to wait there,” he told her when Akira opened the door.
“Yes, please.”
The headmaster, a short, fastidious Briton named Mr. Hyde-Smith, had spotted the car and was hurrying toward them.
Mori spotted his daughter hanging back, near the heavy wooden gate that guarded the garden in the forecourt. Though it was dark, there was enough illumination from the lanterns to see that her appearance was, indeed, as shocking as Mr. Hyde-Smith had complained.
He headed toward the other man, wanting to avoid discussing his daughter’s behavior in front of Helen. She had revealed herself to be a challenging opponent in their negotiations. For her to see that he was unable to control one small twelve-year-old girl would only weaken his position in her eyes.
Mr. Hyde-Smith bowed deeply as Mori reached him. “I didn’t wish to disturb you, Taka-san, but as you can clearly see, Kimiko has broken our personal grooming requirements. Something must be done before the other students see her. Why, she could start a revolt!”
“Revolt is a strong word.” Mori gestured to his daughter, who begrudgingly made her way to his side. She would not meet his gaze and he touched her hair that had been a gift from her mother—a deep brown silk—that was now as pink as bubble gum. “She can stay in her room until someone can be summoned to fix it.”
“I’m sorry, Taka-san. We do not allow our students to make their hair vile colors, nor do we allow visible piercings or tattoos.”
His mouth tightened. “Piercings?”
Kim rolled her eyes. “I don’t have any piercings, Papa.”
“The tattoo!” Mr. Hyde-Smith jogged Kimiko’s arm and his daughter huffed and lifted it to her father’s inspection.
The thing covered the entire length of her inner arm, from narrow wrist to inner elbow. An American flag.
He had last seen his daughter less than a week earlier. Her arms then had still been untainted. “Go wait with Akira.” His voice dropped.
Fortunately, she had the good sense not to argue.
When she was gone, Mori pinned his irritation on the headmaster. “What sort of supervision is occurring here that she not only has time to turn her entire head pink, but can have that thing applied to her arm?”
Mr. Hyde-Smith gulped a little. “It was a free day today, Taka-san. You were supplied the schedule at the beginning of the school term. We expect our pupils to monitor their own behavior, particularly when they reach Kimiko’s age.”
Mori knew what was coming even before the headmaster got there.
“Perhaps Kimiko would be happier in a different educational setting.”
Mori wanted to gnash his teeth together. For the past year, the man had been hinting that his daughter would be better off elsewhere. “I will return my daughter in the morning,” he told the man evenly. “Thank you for your trouble.”
Mr. Hyde-Smith opened his mouth, but closed it again. He bowed. “Domō arigatō gozaimasu,” he murmured.
Mori was already heading back to the car.
Helen had remained seated inside, and he could see Kim leaning over, talking rapidly, her hands gesturing.
The gnawing headache settled in for a nice long visit. How long after a tattoo was given could it be removed?
Mori curtly told his daughter to stop disturbing Mrs. Hanson and to get into the vehicle.
She gave him a long look, but did as he bid.
Once they were inside, Akira drove away from the small, prestigious boarding school. Kimiko was sitting between him and Helen. “This is Mrs. Hanson, Kimiko.”
“Dōzo yoroshiku,” his daughter mumbled.
“I’m pleased to meet you, too,” Helen replied, in English. “Is that one of those stick-on tattoos?”
Kim held up the arm in question as if it were truly a thing to be admir
ed. “I bought it in the marketplace this morning,” she said.
“It is temporary?” His relief was so great he wanted to box her ears all over again.
“Yes,” Kim said, as if he were dimwitted. “It washes off with soap.”
“And will your hair wash back to its usual color?”
Her expression clearly told him it would not.
“You look like you have dipped your head in Day-Glo pink.”
“It took three bottles,” Kim said, then ducked her chin, evidently realizing that he was not as impressed with that fact as she.
“You have to dye it back.”
His daughter remained stonily quiet.
“Why pink?” Helen asked, as if there were no tension congesting the vehicle at all.
“To match the dress I want to wear at my thirteenth birthday party.”
“That is not for some time yet,” Mori said evenly. “And long before then I expect my daughter to possess the color of hair with which she was born.”
“When I move to America, I will make my hair every color of the rainbow.” Kimiko looked up at Helen. “Maybe even gold as the sunrise. Could I have the color you have?”
“Well…” Helen’s gaze flicked over his daughter’s head for a moment, meeting his. “I’m afraid mine is pretty much what I was born with.” She tugged the length of her thick ponytail over her shoulder. “It’s darkened only a little since I was a girl. I always wanted to have beautiful, rich brown hair. Like a sable. But I never had the courage to try it.”
“Changing it would be a waste.” He eyed his daughter. “Now I have to find a professional to fix this mess. At this hour.”
“I don’t see why I have to change it at all.”
“There are rules to be followed.”
“It’s a dumb rule.”
He let out a sharp breath. He would not engage in an argument with his daughter in front of Helen. “Since you have delayed Mrs. Hanson’s dinner long enough, you will join us for our meal. I will deal with you, afterward.”
“It’ll be even later then. To find a hairdresser, I mean.” Helen’s voice was cautious. “Perhaps we can take a rain check on dinner.”
“Rain check?”
“A promise to do it another time.”
Kimiko suddenly looked abashed. “Please, I do not wish to interrupt your meal, Mrs. Hanson. I am happy to do as my father requests.”
Mergers & Matrimony Page 5
