by Leah Ashton
Certainly not the man who was talking to her so openly now.
It was disconcerting.
‘It’s good that Manning is okay,’ she said. She blinked, trying to get her thoughts back in order.
Gray studied her for a long moment. ‘It doesn’t make any sense. If the business is okay, if I know what I’m doing, and if this particular project is no more of a risk than any other significant new venture for Manning, then why on earth am I second-guessing myself?’
Lanie met his gaze. ‘Because you’re human,’ she said, echoing his words of the night before.
His attention flicked over her shoulder, maybe to the waves beyond.
She spoke carefully, not even sure herself what she was trying to say. ‘It’s difficult to be so directly compared to someone else. When your father retired it was natural that people would search for change. That they would judge you and weigh up your achievements against what had come before. You’ll be benchmarked against him for a very long time.’
‘Is that what people really do?’ Gray said, a derisive edge to his tone.
Lanie shrugged and her gaze dropped to her feet.
‘It doesn’t matter if they do it or not. Maybe they don’t. Probably they don’t—not all of them, anyway.’ She curled her toes in the sand. ‘All that matters is that you think they do.’
The touch of Gray’s fingers beneath her chin shocked her.
Slowly, he tilted her face up again, so she was looking straight at him. Into his eyes.
‘Who are we talking about here?’ he asked gently. Too gently.
She took a step back, annoyed. ‘You. Me. Does it make any difference?’
His hand fell away. The sea breeze was cool against the skin he’d touched.
He started to walk again. Whatever had happened then—if it had been a moment or whatever—had clearly passed.
Lanie took a second to follow him, but he paused a few metres away to wait for her.
Together, they walked again, the quickening breeze whipping long strands of Lanie’s hair out of its ponytail.
‘So what do we do about it?’ Gray asked at the base of the steps to Lanie’s villa.
Lanie laughed out loud. ‘I wish I knew.’
A moment later Gray followed suit, and they stood there laughing together about nothing really funny at all.
When they’d both gone silent again Lanie gestured towards her front door. ‘I’d better get inside. Sort out some room service or something.’
In response, Gray looked at his watch. ‘Damn, I lost track of time.’ He looked up at Lanie. ‘Can you be ready for dinner in fifteen minutes? We’re having dinner in Hoi An town with the investors.’
Lanie grinned. This Gray she was comfortable with. ‘So what you’re saying is that you’d like me to accompany you to a business dinner tonight, please?’
He nodded, completely oblivious. ‘Yes. I realised today that it would be good to have you there. I should’ve included you from the beginning.’
‘Okay,’ she said.
But Gray had already turned down her steps, never even considering she might decline.
‘Don’t be late!’ he called out, not bothering to look over his shoulder.
And that was just so quintessentially Grayson Manning that Lanie was laughing again as she closed the door.
NINE
That night was the full moon festival in Hoi An town.
Gray explained the celebration as the group had dinner in a café overlooking the Thu Bon river. On the fourteenth day of the lunar month the streets of the ancient town were closed to motorised vehicles and the street and shop lights switched off. The result was a world lit only by lanterns and candlelight—and, of course, the light of the moon.
It was a night during which the locals celebrated their heritage, and Lanie and the investors all got to experience this first-hand, with a dragon dance on the street outside the open windows of the café: three young boys—one beneath the elaborate dragon’s head, another as its body, and the third providing the beat with a makeshift drum.
Amongst the celebrations, and at this simple café where each meal cost only a few dollars, they were a million miles away from the luxurious resort where the investors had spent the day.
It was a beautiful spot. Across the river the ancient buildings also housed restaurants, all with packed chairs and tables spilling out onto the street, dark except for the smattering of lanterns. The temperature was balmy but far from unpleasant, and the locals and tourists were out in earnest. A gentle buzz of happy chatter spread from the street to the shops and restaurants and back again.
Lanie thought Gray had chosen well. This was what Hoi An was about for tourists—amazing, authentic Vietnamese food served in the ancient town without any airs or graces. As lovely as the beach and the five-and six-star hotels that were popping up along it were, it was Hoi An itself that had originally drawn people, and it was this town that would continue to do so. She’d been here two days, and that this was what it was all about was already clear to her.
Hopefully the group of investors would see that too.
After dinner a line of cyclos arrived to whisk them out of the ancient town to where three cars waited to drive them back to the hotel. Lanie had enjoyed her ride down to the river in the three-wheeled bicycle taxi, seated ahead of her driver between the front two wheels on a canopied bench seat padded in shiny red vinyl. One by one each investor climbed into their own cyclo and were driven away two abreast, so they could continue their conversations as they sped across the cobblestones.
Lanie and Gray had sat at opposite ends of the long table at dinner, Lanie’s role simply being to keep the conversation going—especially with Raquel and another investor who was travelling alone. Unsurprisingly the evening hadn’t been about business at all—a few cocktails and their guests had seemed to forget about work entirely.
Raquel grabbed Lanie’s hand as she stepped into her cyclo. ‘Thanks for a fun night,’ she said, squeezing her hand. ‘I’ve never had dinner with someone famous.’
Lanie laughed. ‘Not quite famous.’
‘Pfft!’ the older woman said with a dismissive gesture. ‘Famous enough for me!’
And then with a wave Raquel was on her way.
Lanie was still smiling as she turned back to the road, but it fell away when she realised how close she was standing to Gray. It was the closest they’d been all night—almost as close as they’d been that afternoon down at the beach.
Her skin goose-pimpled, even though it wasn’t even close to cold.
Gray studied her steadily. His face was shadowed, but the full moon overhead and the lanterns that edged the street provided more than enough light for Lanie to see he was truly meeting her gaze.
‘Famous?’
‘Uh-huh,’ Lanie said with a grin. ‘Haven’t you heard? Raquel thinks she might remember watching the women’s relay final four years ago, and she might also have seen me on television. Therefore—apparently—I’m a star.’
‘She’s right,’ Gray said, very matter-of-fact. ‘You are.’
Then he immediately turned away to speak to the driver of the waiting cyclo.
Lanie blinked at his back for a moment or two, not quite sure what to say.
Tonight had been the first night in ages—months, even—that she’d really, truly enjoyed herself. Just as Raquel had said, it had been a fun night.
Of course amongst the plentiful food and drink her swimming career had come up in conversation. Lanie had forgotten how normal people reacted to it. To her family and friends—even in her old job—her achievements had long ago become part of the wallpaper. But Raquel had been impressed—seriously impressed. As had the others seated near them.
For a little while she had felt a like a star.
‘Lanie?’
Belatedly Lanie realised that only a single cyclo remained outside the restaurant.
‘Are you walking back to the hotel?’ she asked with a grin.
Gray smiled back—the first time she’d seen him do so all evening.
‘No,’ he said. ‘That market I mentioned last night... We...’ a pause ‘...we ran out of time yesterday. But I think you’d like it.’
Lanie smiled again. ‘Sure.’
He gestured at the cyclo for her to climb in.
‘So you are walking, then?’ Lanie asked, confused. ‘I can walk with you. I don’t—’
Gray shook his head. ‘There’s heaps of room,’ he said. ‘We can share a cyclo.’
Lanie took another look at the bicycle-like vehicle. It was admittedly slightly wider than the one she’d been driven in on. But still...
‘Maybe for two normal-sized people.’
‘Don’t be stupid,’ Gray said. ‘Trust me—we’ll fit.’
He neatly ended Lanie’s protest by grabbing her hand and tugging her into the cyclo behind him. The driver started pedalling the instant they were seated, and for a few moments they were both silent as they turned off from the relatively busy road along the river to an empty back street.
Silent and...squished.
From shoulder to hip to toe they were pressed tight against each other. The skin of Gray’s arm was hot against hers, and their knees bumped awkwardly with every jolt in the road.
And then Gray started laughing. Laughing so hard his whole body vibrated—and consequently so did Lanie’s.
‘So it turns out,’ he managed eventually, ‘we don’t fit.’
It was impossible not to laugh with him.
Their detour took them past a street corner crowded with tourists. Amongst the throng a small band played traditional Vietnamese songs and women in beautiful sashed dresses danced with oversized fans that flicked and flickered in time with the music. As they headed back to the river Lanie began to relax just a little—or as much as was possible given their proximity.
After their laughter faded away they didn’t talk for the remainder of their trip—although it wasn’t an awkward silence. Lanie had expected Gray to ask what she thought about the dinner. She’d definitely noticed a subtle difference—not so much in the stuff he couldn’t control, as she’d still seen the hints of tension in his posture, but he’d shifted his language, reverting to the more confident phrasing that she was more familiar with.
But she was glad he didn’t ask. It was nice to play tourist for just a little while.
She risked a glance in his direction.
His gaze was directed outside the cyclo at the many shop fronts and the boats moored along the river. In profile, Gray was every bit as handsome as he was from other angles. Although this close she noticed he wasn’t quite as perfect as she’d suspected. His nose wasn’t quite straight, and had the smallest bump near the bridge. His just-too-long hair had a couple of flecks of grey, and he’d even managed to miss a section while shaving. The tiny patch of stubble was unexpectedly endearing.
He must have sensed her attention because he turned to meet her gaze with a smile. Of course she smiled back.
It turned out that even now—when Gray’s smiles were almost a regular occurrence—they had just as much impact on her. It was near Pavlovian—one smile from Gray and her insides went all gooey, with a dopey smile to match.
Of course she knew this wasn’t a good thing. She’d told herself that many times—particularly in the past twenty-four hours and especially since he’d dragged her onto this cyclo. But what she needed to remember was that it was natural for the two of them to feel some sort of temporary closeness, given how much time they were spending together.
That was what this was. Nothing more.
The cyclo came to a stop at the base of a wide pedestrian bridge. On either side floated giant lantern-like sculptures—far taller than even herself—bobbing amidst the boats on the river. A tiger, a serpent, a fish and more—all glowing in shades of gold, red and green.
‘Come on,’ Gray said. ‘We’ll walk this last bit.’
He stepped out and then reached out a hand to help Lanie. Once she was standing, and while he asked the driver to wait for them, he kept right on holding her hand.
Lanie looked stupidly down at their joined hands, but let him tug her behind him as they crossed the bridge. His touch did such strange and crazy things to her. This was different from how she’d felt in the cyclo because—like down on the beach—she couldn’t interpret it as anything but deliberate. Sensations fluttered in her belly that she really had no business feeling.
He was her boss, after all.
And he wasn’t interested in her.
Are you sure?
More than once now she’d thought she’d seen something when he’d looked at her. As they’d swum together in the ocean. When he’d surprised her at her villa door in her bathers. That moment he’d raised her chin with a tender touch... And maybe now...
No. No, no, no, no, no.
She was being fanciful. Imagining things.
She should pull her hand away from his immediately.
But she didn’t.
She wanted to kick herself for her weakness. What was she going to do next? Swoon at his feet?
They emerged from the crowd on the bridge to a wide expanse of road on the other side. As the crowd parted their destination was immediately obvious: the Night Market.
It was so beautiful that Lanie came to a sudden halt right in the middle of the street. Gray’s hand dropped from hers, and with the removal of his touch he returned her capacity for speech.
‘Wow!’ she said. Which pretty much said it all.
‘I thought you’d like it,’ Gray said, looking pleased. ‘Do you want to go explore?’
As if that question actually required an answer.
The market was small—only a single row of stalls, plus a line of freestanding carts and stands selling jewellery and souvenirs. But what it did have was an abundance, or even an overabundance, of light. Each and every stall sold lanterns—lanterns in silks and chiffon and lace and cotton and in every colour under the sun. And all were lit—rows and rows of them. Pendant shapes and diamonds, columns and spheres. Some with golden tassels, others without. Some delicately painted, others tiny and strung together on delicate strings.
All beautiful, all bright, all magical.
There was no other light in the market but that thrown by the lanterns—but it was enough. Lanie approached one stall and a woman immediately offered to make her a lantern on the spot, in any design she wanted. Any colour, any size, any painted decoration.
Lanie turned to Gray. ‘I don’t actually need a lantern...’ she began.
Gray laughed. ‘Neither do I. But I have two from here at home, in a cupboard somewhere.’
Once again he’d surprised her, and she found herself laughing back at him. ‘Grayson Manning the impulse shopper?’
He slanted her a look. ‘Do you honestly believe you’re leaving here without a lantern?’
‘Good point,’ she said, and then embraced the inevitable by weighing up her many, many lantern options.
In the end she kept it simple—a sphere-shaped silk lantern in a blue that reminded her of the South China Sea, with today’s date painted in delicate script at its base. What she’d do with it when she got home she had no idea—it wouldn’t exactly blend in with her mother’s décor. But of course that wasn’t the point.
Directed to return in half an hour to collect her new lantern, Lanie took her time browsing the other stalls, exploring even more lanterns, plus jewellery, trinkets and silk fans. Tonight Gray didn’t disappear. He didn’t hover o
ver her shoulder, either, but browsed the stalls with her, occasionally drawing her attention to the weird and the wonderful—like the unexpected discovery that one stall was selling, of all things, cheese graters.
Eventually they reached the edge of the Night Market. They stood together in a puddle of light thrown by the final stall’s lanterns, both of them looking back the way they came.
‘I read your CV,’ Gray said out of the blue. ‘I figured I should check for any other hidden talents I was unaware of.’
Lanie shifted her weight a little uncomfortably. ‘Um...’ she began. How to explain?
‘For an elite athlete,’ Gray went on, ‘you’ve managed to squeeze a heck of a lot into your business career.’
Maybe she’d imagined his questioning tone, but regardless she needed to tell him. ‘My CV—excluding the swimming part—is a little...uh...creative. A friend of mine made some adjustments without my knowledge.’
‘So you lied to get your job?’ he said. But his tone wasn’t accusing.
‘In a way...yes.’
A long pause. ‘I should probably be pretty angry about that,’ Gray said.
Lanie met his gaze, and even in the lantern light a sparkle was unmistakable. ‘Probably,’ she said. ‘But you’re not.’
He studied her. ‘No.’ A shrug. ‘You’re doing a great job. And you haven’t quit. So that’s in your favour.’
‘I’ve heard you have an issue with people doing that.’
Gray sighed. ‘Marilyn says I need to be nicer to my staff.’
‘Marilyn is a very wise woman,’ Lanie said. ‘Although you are improving. You’ve been almost nice at least once this weekend.’
Actually, many more times than that.
‘Have I—’ Gray began, but then a couple with a huge, fancy-looking camera began talking to them in a language she didn’t understand—although their hand gestures soon made their intentions clear. They wanted to take a photo down the length of the market and she and Gray were in the way.
