by EM BROWN
She had a hard time imagining anyone beating up on Ben. She saw how he moved. Smooth like a ballerina, flowing like one of those dragons in the Chinese New Year’s Parade. She had seen him in nothing but his swim trunks. His muscles were well defined everywhere, not in a beefy way but plenty delicious for her to want to run her hands over the planes and ridges of his chest and torso.
“Did you have to carry a weapon?” she asked.
“I carried a knife and learned how to make myself a weapon through martial arts. The gang was small potatoes, only loosely connected to one of the triads but enough to worry my dad.”
She itched to ask him a dozen questions, which she would have done if she were openly interviewing him, but since she wasn’t, everything was technically off record. She wanted to know anyway but didn’t want to appear prying.
They walked to the area of worship.
“This is so cool,” she whispered of the paper prayers on the walls and intricately carved altars decorated with bold colors of red and gold. “It’s not something I expected to find out here.”
She looked at one of the scrolls hanging from beside the altar. “Do you read?”
After he had translated the Chinese on the scrolls, which talked of the emperor, gods, and devils, she recalled, “One of my dormmates at Stanford claimed to be a Taoist, but he only talked about it in reference to sex. I’m not sure how authentic it all was. Some people thought he was just being an ‘egg.’”
She glanced at him, and it was like walking into a brick wall when she met his stare. At first, she thought maybe he didn’t like that she had used the term ‘egg’ since it was sometimes used in a critical manner to refer to white Asiaphiles, but there was an amused gleam in Ben’s dark brown eyes that told her he was fixed on her, not her words. She could barely swallow. He looked as if he had some secret he may or may not share with her. She wanted to know what it was, even though she was certain that finding out would only get her deeper in trouble.
CHAPTER TWO
By her expression, not unlike a deer caught in headlights, Ben supposed he must have been staring at Kimani like she was a piece of meat he wanted to devour. And he did. On the drive over to Weaverville, he had toyed with the idea of pulling over and making her come all over the car. He was going to make her squirt again, just like he had the night before. The morning swim through the lake’s cold waters had helped clear his head, but spending all that time on the boat and seeing her naked had put him back to square one. Her body had felt so damn good leaning against his.
She stood inches from him looking like a frumpy tourist with her broad-brimmed hat, cheap sunglasses, and khaki shorts. And if there had been no one around, he would have been tempted to rip her clothes off and take her right there in the temple. Or at least feel her up through the thin tank top she wore. He had noticed she had chosen a sports bra, which made her breasts less accessible, but she was wrong if she thought a little sports bra could protect her.
“Sex is an important part of Taoism,” he explained, “and some engage in intercourse as part of a spiritual practice.”
“Really? Sex is usually taboo and wrong when it comes to religions.”
“Taoism isn’t a religion in the same way as Catholicism or Judaism. It’s a philosophy and a way of living. Central to Taoist practice is the care and cultivation of jing, essence or energy. Sex is the joining of this energy.”
She was eying him curiously, as if trying to read his mind. If she could, she would see herself spent and exhausted as he wrung yet another orgasm from her. She had no idea how long a session with him could last. Most women couldn’t keep up, and he wondered how Kimani would fare compared to the others.
“That sounds very holistic, spiritual,” she commented. Then, as if sensing his thoughts, though she couldn’t see them, she turned and stepped away. “Looks like there’s a garden out back.”
A deer leaped over the fence as they strolled outside and to a fountain with a small statue of Kuan Yin.
“’One who listens,’” Kimani read from the plaque in front of the fountain. “Is she a goddess?”
“Sort of. She is an enlightenment being and the gateway to a paradise where souls are reborn with the truth of their eternal nature, compassion and joy.”
“That sounds lovely. You seem to know quite a bit about Taoism.”
He didn’t tell her that it was the Taoist sex practices that had been his primary interest. It was best to stay away from topics of a sexual nature. Any wood would show in his tight-fitting jeans.
Instead, he said “Taoism is embedded in Chinese culture, though much of it was suppressed in favor of Confucianism.”
After they finished their visit at the Joss House, he decided to stop in one of the coffee shops to get something to drink. He wanted Kimani to himself and was in no hurry to get back to the cabin where his cousin, Jason, was probably getting stoned with Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum. The three of them had tried to convince him to attend the Scarlet Auction to “buy” a woman for the week. He had thought the idea of “buying” a woman stupid—for guys too lazy to get real dates. But the instant he saw Kimani, he had to have her. Or at least he couldn’t let Jake keep her, especially if he was the one that had given her the bruise on her cheek, which had deepened in hue since yesterday.
If it weren’t for the fact that Jake Whitehurst represented players that the coach of the Golden Phoenix wanted to recruit to play in the Chinese Basketball Association, Ben would not have chosen to spend the week in the wilderness of Northern California. But Kimani was going to make it all worthwhile.
At the coffee shop, he ordered two mugs of green tea.
“Green tea?” Kimani echoed in disbelief. “It’s warm out here. I was hoping to get an iced mocha.”
“Green tea is healthier.”
“So is broccoli juice but that doesn’t mean I want to drink it.”
Should he tell her that green tea enhances physical performance or would that scare her off?
“Do you only do what you want?” he returned, taking the mugs of tea from the barrista.
She followed him to a table. “Of course not. I’m not a child. But...green tea? Hot green tea on a sunny afternoon?”
“You’ll get used to it.”
She gave him a small glare as she sat down. He almost laughed when she grimaced into her tea.
“You can have a glass of water after you’ve had some of your tea,” he said.
She blew at the tea to cool it down. “You’re obnoxious.”
“We established earlier that I was an asshole,” he acknowledged before leaning in and lowering his voice. “You came for me anyway.”
She flushed. “Well, that’s because you’re not a complete asshole. Just partly. Maybe a majority. I haven’t decided yet.”
He leaned back in his chair with his tea. She was cute when she was flustered. He knew her type: smart, well-educated, a little arrogant. But she had enough humility inside of her that if she were knocked down from her high horse, she would get up stronger and wiser.
“So what is it you exactly do? Do you work for the Chinese Basketball Association?” she asked.
“You haven’t had any of your tea yet,” he told her.
As he watched her take a sip, he smiled to himself. She was trainable.
“Is that why you’re doing business with Jake?”
He nodded at her tea. “Drink more.”
She took another sip. “So do you?”
“Why are you so interested?”
“Curious. I used to play,” she reminded him. “A part of me wishes I was good enough to play professionally.”
“How do you know you aren’t?”
“I guess if I had tried—but when I was applying to college, the WNBA was struggling, so it wasn’t clear what options I would have playing ball. But I like what I’m doing now.”
He raised a brow. “Working as an office assistant?”
She looked down. “I know that’s not what most St
anford grads aspire to, but it pays the bills.”
“Does it? You wouldn’t have done the Scarlet Auction if you had enough money.”
“Right. I meant my job pays most of the bills. The Scarlet Auction is a great opportunity to make extra cash to pay off student loans and maybe have some fun.”
“What does ‘fun’ entail?”
“Getting tickets to a Warriors game.”
“Is that your favorite team?”
“The Stanford women’s team is my favorite team, but the Warriors are a close second.” She was smiling and looking more relaxed. She even took another sip of tea without prompting. “You didn’t answer my question about working for the CBA.”
“I don’t work for the CBA. My father sponsors the Golden Phoenix, and it’s his pet project to make the team into a championship contender.”
“So when you’re not working on that, what do you do?”
“Mostly real estate developments for the family business.”
“Any here in California?”
“Some.”
“Like in the Bay Area?”
“Some.”
He set down his now empty mug. Unlike most dates, she seemed interested in details. But this wasn’t a date, even though it was beginning to feel like one. He didn’t date because he wasn’t looking to start a family.
“Are they commercial or residential?”
“These days policymakers like to see mixed-use for urban areas.”
“Do you like mixed-use?”
“If the pro forma works, sure. Mixed use is key to smart growth principles.”
Her brows went up. “You care about smart growth?”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
“I thought...”
“Thought what? That developers are evil and have no conscience when it comes to the environment? That we just care about maxing returns and triple net?”
“What’s triple net?”
“It’s a lease agreement in which the tenant agrees to pay the three ‘nets’ on the property: taxes, insurance and maintenance.”
She seemed to be storing away that bit of information. He was surprised to find himself talking about lease agreements with any woman who wasn’t in the business, but he believed few subjects would intimidate Kimani. And he found he talked rather freely with her. Hell, he had even revealed he had once hung with a gang. He couldn’t remember the last person he had told that to.
Noting that she still had half a mug full, he told her, “Finish the tea.”
She looked him in the eyes. “What if I don’t want to?”
He returned a tight smile. “You sure you want to find out, pet?”
She pursed her lips but lifted the mug. “I’m drinking it because I know it’s good for me.”
He didn’t bother disputing her. If the mug had root beer, she would be drinking it because he had told her to.
After the coffee shop, they walked to the drugstore where she found a package of Hanes underwear, various hair products, toiletries, a notepad, and pens.
“I’ll pay you back,” she said as the cashier rang everything up.
“I got it,” he reminded her.
“I’d rather pay you back. It’s all stuff I would have needed at home anyway.”
He studied her, wondering why she insisted on paying him back when she was financially desperate enough to participate in the Scarlet Auction.
“You’ll pay me back,” he assured her, “just not in the way you think.”
Her lips parted ever so slightly in a frown, and he had to look away before the urge to kiss her took over. As an Asian male and black female, they had received a handful of curious looks about town. He wasn’t going to give them more to gawk at.
“I need something from the hardware store,” he said when they were done at CVS.
She followed him the few blocks and watched him peruse the different ropes available. He looked first at a solid polypropylene braid. It was soft and smooth to the touch and had solidity and weight. But the thickness would make for large knots, so he went for the twisted nylon, which was also soft and smooth. It wasn’t as good as jute, but it would have to do. The white nylon would be a nice contrast against her skin.
“What’s the rope for?” Kimani asked.
He raised his brows. “You don’t know?”
She hesitated. “Is it for the boat?”
“I think you know what it’s for: paying me back.”
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