by Eve Kasey
“We have a house in the hills, about thirty minutes away.”
“We?” As soon as the word left her mouth, Rosie turned redder than she had when she’d met Chen. Even the tip of her nose was stained pink. She cleared her throat genteelly and spun the iPad around while Elle internally rejoiced. “I, uh, have another video to show you.”
Instead of exploiting Rosie’s slip-up, Tate’s expression softened. No lascivious looks or cocky grin. He was a true gentleman, unlike someone else she knew. “The Geier family,” he explained. “My cousin, Quinn, lives there with me. The villa is part of the estate. You would probably appreciate it. The house was designed by Le Corbusier.”
“It was not!”
“It’s a replica of the Villa Savoye.”
Rosie whimpered.
Tate looked happier than Elle had ever seen him. “You can see it anytime you want.”
Rosie couldn’t even reply. Her red-tinted lips were parted and silent.
“Tate, you’ve broken my friend.”
He smiled at them both. “Would it help or hurt that I want to get Abode Design under contract to build this twenty-room hotel any way you want?”
“Help,” Rosie croaked out.
“Good.” He rose and rapped his knuckles on the table. Another twitch to add to the tally. “Leave an estimated fee with a rate for incidentals with Luz and a signed contract will hit your inbox Monday.”
“I have more to show you,” Rosie protested.
“No need. I trust you.” He tore his eyes from Rosie to look at Elle. “Grab a company credit card from Luz and take our new architect out to dinner tonight.”
Paying for dinner in absentia was the best type of power move. “Thanks, Tate. Are you sure you don’t want to join us?”
His real answer lived in the long pause that followed. “Another time. I’m sure you two have plenty to discuss.”
Wrong. They had everything to discuss.
Rosie seemed to shake herself out of her reverie. She stood and stuck out her hand again. Tate grasped it immediately, almost gratefully. No games, no mixed messages, also unlike someone else she knew. “Thank you so much for this opportunity for Abode. We’re going to build an unforgettable experience together. I promise.”
Tate smiled. “I know we are, Rosie.”
Several hours later, both women were sprawled on Elle’s couch nursing full tummies.
“I can’t move. I had no idea I could eat that much spaghetti.” Rosie groaned and adjusted her limp form.
The nicest restaurant in Victory was an authentic Italian place run by a man named Lorenzo who had plied them with significantly more food than they’d ordered. The bread had been fresh and hot, the butter herbed, the tiramisu towering and oozing espresso.
Elle groaned at the sound of Chen stomping around upstairs.
“I still can’t believe you live below Chen Lew.” Rosie shook her head. “What are the chances?”
They hadn’t discussed Chen at dinner. They had focused mostly on ideas for the hotel, more fantasy than reality. Rosie hadn’t mentioned Tate’s name and Elle let the omission lie, but that grace period was nearly over.
“Why are you so excited about him?”
“You really don’t know his history? To begin with, he had a standout military career.”
Elle snorted. “Military? I can’t picture Chen following orders.”
Rosie pawed lazily at her phone until it was in front of her face. She typed, scrolled, then handed the phone to Elle. “Try issuing orders.”
Elle bit her lip. Chen in a decorated military uniform had an immediate effect on her lady parts. “Wow. I didn’t even know I was into the whole uniform thing.”
“He seems into you, too. He mentioned you multiple times during my tour.”
Luckily, eyerolls expelled no energy. If Chen was into her, she’d know. He was no wallflower.
“He’s also the youngest person the Chinese ever put in space,” Rosie continued, correctly guessing that Elle would not be responding. “He went solo, too. His trip was supposed to be longer, but he lost contact with Mission Control while he was orbiting.”
Fear slashed through her stomach. Chen had been floating in space alone? Space. Alone. Like last man on Earth alone, but not on Earth, which was even scarier.
“He made the call to manually re-enter ahead of schedule. Re-enter the atmosphere without being guided. Can you imagine? He landed within a mile of the intended drop site, too. It was insane. He’s an amazing pilot. You guys are so lucky to have him.”
“He certainly thinks so,” Elle grumbled as the man continued to stomp around above them. “He’s got to be stomping on purpose, right? No one walks like that.”
Rosie ignored her grumbling. “Hiring Chen was a smart move on Tate’s part. Who better to handle unknown situations in space than someone who’s already faced the toughest one?”
Perfect segue. “Speaking of Tate...”
“Shh! I am mortified.” Rosie covered her face with both hands. “If I wasn’t afraid the contract wouldn’t have gone through for my team, I’d have chosen death on the spot.”
Elle mustered a chuckle. “Why? He might actually be the handsomest man on the planet and, more important, the most genuine. I’m starting to think he might be one of those freaky lifelike robots from Japan, designed to be the perfect man.”
Rosie giggled. “Real or robot, you know I wouldn’t do anything about my attraction to him. I have been ruined for office romance for life.”
“Ah, but you don’t share an office.” Elle was teasing but she knew how traumatized Rosie had been by her previous experience. To mix business with pleasure again would take a miracle. Or a really patient man.
“Are you still drawing?”
“Obvious change of subject, you beautiful minx, but no.” Elle sighed. “I don’t know if it was me or William Markham who drove me to work the way I did on the island. Probably both. I felt compelled to always conceive of bigger and better ideas. I started to have anxiety when I wasn’t working.”
“Oh, Elle. I had no idea.”
Elle shrugged. “Experiential planning can be a challenge to justify; the results aren’t always tangible. This job is going to hard for me to adjust to, I think,” she admitted. “The experiences I’m planning are two years out. I’m really worried about keeping Tate satisfied with my work over that length of time. Myself, too. I like to see the expressions on people’s faces. The emotional reaction is the reason I do what I do. This job will be the first time I can’t pivot based on feedback. Waiting is going to be strange.”
“Sounds like some real growth potential. You’ll have to learn patience and lean more on your own gut instinct. And you’ll have to learn to be less busy. Tate doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to work you to death.”
“He’s not. His people leave before five. What kind of nonsense is that?”
Rosie reached over and squeezed her hand. “Thank you for bringing me here. This is a big deal for my firm.”
“And for you. Let’s not forget you got to meet the great Chen Lew.”
14
Days later, Chen still couldn’t stop thinking about Elle’s crestfallen face inside Stratos. He couldn’t forget the feel of her skin under his fingers or how readily she’d leaned into his touch. He should have fucking kissed her. Instead, he’d been selfish. Cowardly. And Chen was no coward. Or he hadn’t been until he met her.
But he knew himself. If he kissed Elle’s smooth skin or sensuous mouth, he’d never stop. He’d throw away the life-preserver and let himself drown.
Still, he couldn’t avoid her. He wanted to fix what he’d purposely broken.
Except for a few hours at the gym each morning, the rest of his weekend was spent waiting for Rosie to leave Elle’s. He caught up with his family, his former commander, and his best friend, Vadim. A pilot contracted to fly a Spanish football team, Vadim was never in one place for long. During college, they’d explored Europe together. For many rea
sons, Vadim himself being no small part, those years had been the best of Chen’s life. Until he’d floated weightless in space.
He waited until Rosie left on Sunday morning. Then he got dressed, folded himself into his toaster car, and headed into Victory to hit up a taco shop whose food he’d seen Elle bring home for dinner a few days prior. Food was a weapon that could bring down walls and build bridges.
He knocked on her door thirty minutes later. Elle pulled the door open and immediately cocked her head, fixing him with a stare. Her frown didn’t dampen his flood of happiness. She looked softer this morning. Maybe it was because she wasn’t sporting her typical sultry eye makeup or that her long curls were stretched from sleep. Maybe her softness came from loose, ripped jeans and a tiny T-shirt, the most dressed down he’d ever seen her. More likely, Chen had just missed her.
He brandished his weapon. “I need you to help me understand what’s so great about tacos. I’ve never heard of a food getting its own day.”
Confusion flickered across her brows. Then a quick eyeroll. “Taco Tuesday. Fine. I don’t say no to tacos.” She held open the door to let him in.
Victory. Chen fought a smirk.
Her place smelled good after a couple of weeks of her living there, clean and floral and feminine in a way that made his mouth water more than the tacos did. He set the two bags of food on the L-shaped counter in her kitchen that mirrored his own upstairs.
“Have you really never had a taco?” She moved through her kitchen, pulling plates down from a cabinet and flatware from a drawer.
Chen tried not to stare too obviously as the tan skin of her lower back played peekaboo while she moved. He blinked away flashes of his hands on her back, hips, everywhere. Of that wild hair tickling his thighs. “I’ve had tacos.”
She set plates, forks, and napkins down on the counter in front of him and started unloading the bags, popping open a few takeaway containers. “And? Do you not find them to be a perfect food?”
Chen chuckled. “They’re no xiaolongbao.”
“Say that again?”
“Shao-long-bow,” Chen pronounced more slowly. “Dumplings. Those are a perfect food. Symmetrical, balanced, delicious.” He gestured to the open container of crispy rolled tacos slathered in lettuce, cheese, salsa, and sour cream. “This is slop.”
“How dare you.” She opened more boxes until she apparently found what she was looking for. “Here. If symmetry and simplicity are what you’re after, try the street tacos.”
Chen peeked into the box she shoved his way and saw three small, flat tortillas piled with steak and adorned simply with raw onions and some greenery. Elle attacked her rolled tacos with a fork while Chen attempted to hold his in a way that wouldn’t spill food everywhere when he took a bite. Didn’t work. “See? Even the pretty ones are a mess.”
She laughed. “But they’re good, right?”
“They’re good,” he admitted, polishing off the first taco.
Now what? Did he apologize for shutting her down? Or pretend the moment inside Stratos never happened? They seemed okay right now. Maybe temporary amnesia was a safer bet. And maybe he was a coward.
“I really like Rosie,” he offered. “She hardly took any convincing to give up your dirt.”
She huffed, a predictable response. “I’m not worried about any dirt.” She paused. “Wait, what did she tell you?”
“I thought you weren’t worried,” he teased. “Sorry, but it’s my dirt now, to be unearthed at the least convenient time for you.”
“You are the—”
“The worst. I know. Tate seemed interested in her outside of her abilities as an architect.”
Her scowl transformed into a smile. Her teeth actually seemed to sparkle. “They’d be great together. Both old souls with similar priorities. But Rosie won’t let anything happen.”
“Why not?”
“She won’t date someone she works with.”
Unease flared in his chest. Did Elle have those same restrictions? And did restrictions matter if he couldn’t date her? He and Elle couldn’t be more than they were in that moment. Not with a temporary visa and a permanent obligation to his family in China. Fuck, being drawn to his neighbor was turning out to be messier than the tacos.
“Why won’t she date someone she works with?”
Elle’s face reflected compassion for her friend. “Rosie was burned badly. Like, move jobs and change her number badly.”
Chen frowned. “I’m sorry to hear it. I’m sure she didn’t deserve to get burned so badly.”
“No one does. Her especially.” She slid another box his way. “Try the pork carnitas.”
He devoured the pork tacos in a few bites and leaned against her counter, sated. At least when it came to food. He still couldn’t decide if not kissing Elle had been the best or worst decision for his sanity.
“So, no tacos where you’re from? I don’t even know where you’re from exactly.”
Chen grinned mischievously. “You could ask Rosie. She seems to know all about me.”
Elle dropped her fork in the container with a sigh. “Do you do that on purpose?”
“Do what?”
No eyeroll. No glare. Just a serious question with her deep brown eyes on his. “Make it hard to get know you.”
He did when he had a lot to lose. Like now. “Is that what you want, Elle? To get to know me?”
“Rosie says you’re fascinating,” she replied with a shrug. “Tate obviously thinks highly of you. You’re from a place I know nothing about, with a job that’s insanely cool. I can tell from your wardrobe that you’re well-traveled and have good taste. But I haven’t decided if getting to know you is worth the effort. I mean, since we know you’re the worst.”
Chen couldn’t date Elle or kiss her, but he also couldn’t lose her. Not when she felt so important after only a few conversations. He didn’t even riff off her little joke. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Where do you want me to start?”
A perfect eyebrow raised. “Really? We’re doing this? A real conversation?”
“Yes.”
“Then I want you to start at the beginning.”
15
Elle didn’t know why she’d called for a sudden stop to the banter that had so far defined her relationship with Chen. His smirk when he teased her caused the best kind of butterflies. As did the very snug hoodie and pants that were his weekend wear. She had never seen a hoodie look so good. His defined upper body filled it to perfection. And that baseball cap? Shit.
But she wanted to know who he was under the jokes and swagger. What had his life in China been like? What did he miss? And who? He’d commanded a military unit. She’d heard him speaking French with Quinn. He’d traveled in space, alone. Putting aside that she’d wanted to kiss him, she wanted to know the dark-eyed man whose orbit she was locked into. They’d been circling around each other long enough.
She’d never seen him look more serious. Maybe she’d pushed him too far. Maybe getting personal wasn’t his style or his culture. But he’d agreed.
“Guangzhou, thirty-three years ago. That’s the beginning.” His determined expression tugged at her navel. But then his eyes lit in that familiar way. “And Elle?”
She hated how much she loved the way her name sounded in his velvet voice. “Yeah?”
“You’re going to play, too. I didn’t get nearly enough out of Rosie.”
She couldn’t stop her answering smile. “Okay. I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”
She pushed off from the counter and grabbed two wine glasses out of the cupboard. She chose a bottle of red from the wine rack. Chen wanted to play? She’d play. She poured them each a glass and moved to her living room unhurried. Chen followed, clearing his throat as he chose a spot on the same couch. Elle leaned over and handed him the glass. He took it, eyes never leaving hers.
“Your turn,” he prompted.
“San Diego, twenty-eight years ago. Single dad. I was fond of pi
gtails. Siblings?”
“A younger sister. You?”
“Two younger brothers. Twins.”
“What did you want to be when you grew up?” he asked.
“Wealthy and fulfilled. You?”
“Out of China.”
They parried, each teasing information out of the other, for more than an hour. The conversation slipped from light to serious and back again. Chen got looser the more he talked, and his face and neck redder the more wine he drank. At one point he patted his flaming cheek and grimaced. “One of the many reasons I don’t drink much.”
“I think it’s cute,” Elle replied without thinking. His sly smile caused her to immediately regret the comment. “Favorite movie?” she asked, hoping to distract him. “Kung fu fan?”
“Julia Roberts fan.”
“That’s right. Why Julia Roberts?”
He shrugged. “My sister and I love a good love story. The films help with her understanding of English. She fell in love with Julia in My Best Friend’s Wedding, but Notting Hill is her favorite.”
Elle giggled. Picturing Chen and his little sister watching rom-coms together was adorable. “You said that I looked like Julia Roberts. Is that why you like me?”
“Who said I liked you?” he teased.
“Two bags of tacos said so.”
“Maybe I just like food.”
Elle rolled her eyes. “Maybe,” she conceded.
“But I might also like your company.”
“Wow.” She placed her hand on her chest. “I’m honored that the great Chen Lew might like my company.”
He stared at his empty wine glass. “There’s no might, Elle. You know that as well as I do.”
He stood suddenly, grabbing both their wine glasses. She couldn’t help but wonder at his tone, or admire his broad shoulders and narrow waist as he sauntered away.
“Another one for you?” he asked from the kitchen.
“Are you having one?” The ease with which he moved through her kitchen shouldn’t affect her. He probably had the exact same layout one floor above. But Elle really liked seeing the big, intriguing man in her space.
