Akira Tong for Christmas (3 page)

“I’m trying. It’s hard.” I opened one of the boxes and sucked in a breath. “But I hate your taste in shoes! I’m going to die. They’re so high and
beautiful
. I hate you. I love you. What about makeup and jewelry and…”

“All there, sweetie,” she murmured. “Each outfit should have a bag attached to it—the jewelry. I had them stock it yesterday.”

“Wow, so particular.”

“If this goes well, I’ll get promoted, and our company will expand, and life will be great.” Her every word wavered.

“Stop talking. Are you eating? Taking your medicine on time? What about my hair? Good grief, I have no clue.”

“Your hair is beautiful down. Just wash it and blow-dry it…and put in that firming stuff. Don’t remember what it’s called. And curl the ends. Then you’re good to go.”

“Get some rest, Anna. I gotta go before he pops up naked again.”

“Naked!” That woke her up.

“Oh yeah, seems he doesn’t mind parading around without his shirt, and in only a towel,” I hissed.

“Holy hell, you lucky dog.”

“Lucky! Did I mention he’s like a cyborg? And what kind of name
is that? Tong
.”

“Oh, honey, I forgot to mention to be careful with his name.” She lowered her voice to barely a whisper. “It’s actually Chinese. I think there may have been a little Romeo-and-Juliet drama somewhere in the bloodline, so he may be sensitive about it.”

I quirked a lip. “I could care less about that, but it would’ve been nice if you’d told me how to pronounce it.”

She sucked in her breath. “What did you call him?”

“What the spelling of his name
suggests
I call him,” I whispered defensively.

“Oh, dear.” She giggled weakly. “But he’s so sexy, isn’t he? And that dress should help seal the deal, but be extra nice.”

I frowned at the sluttery she seemed to be suggesting. “Okay, yes, he’s very sexy. Heaven yes, but vaginafying this job will not further our cause. ’Sides that, I don’t kiss ass, not in that way.” Anna only chuckled. No doubt pitying me. Poor pitiful Farmer Jane. Farmer Jane come to town—

come to
New York
—to stay in the same suite as an Asian god tycoon for two weeks!

“I have to admit, this is more exciting than I’d ever imagined. This place is beautiful. The Christmas decorations are amazing. Oh crap, it’s late. Talk to you later. Bye.”

“Please, Sarah, don’t forget. You’ve done this a hundred times.”

“Right, right, got it. Raised in opulence. I can do that. I’ll just think of you and pretend I’m you.

Works like a charm. I’m actually pretty good at it, you know.”

“Don’t get comfy, li’l sis.”

I snorted, bouncing my butt on the bed. “Little. I chased you out of the womb so I could take my time coming out.”

“Good night,” she whispered.

“Good night. Rest.”

Click.

I sat on the bed. Wow, so soft. I bounced on it a little harder, smiling, then checked my watch. Four thirty. Better move. I hurried and peeked out the bedroom door, then shut it.

Later I stood and gawked at myself in the bathroom’s mirrored wall. “You gorgeous woman, you.” I turned left and examined my sleek profile in the fitted black dress with long lace sleeves. I straightened my spine, jutting my breasts out. Well, as out as they could go. I exhaled sharply until I slumped. The B-cup made me look sixteen instead of twenty-four. Twenty-four-year-old virgin. It wasn’t that bad. Not like the forty-year-old virgin. I examined my backside and smiled. My hips and butt were my prized possessions. Anna had the brains and boobs. I had the butt and the hips and…a whole bunch of other good things. Too many to list.

I examined my makeup one last time, then picked up my watch on the counter. My heart dropped.

Five o’clock. You’re fine. You have plenty of time.

I clicked my way over the bathroom tile and headed out. I’d clean up my mess later. My heart thundered as I opened the bedroom door. “Mr. Tong?” I crept forward. “Mr. Tong, are you here? Are you ready?”

No answer. I went to check all the rooms. Except his bathroom and bedroom. I sat at the lavish desk next to the living room and pulled the cell phone out of my tiny black clutch. I paused, seeing a note.

Meet me at Mr. K’s—Tong.

Really! Wow, how rude. My gaze narrowed at the note. What beautiful handwriting. Better than mine.

I was supposed to drive myself, fine. Tacky, but fine.

What was I expecting? A limo escort? Gliding into the restaurant on his arm?
Stop being stupid
. Not like this Cinderella dream was ever about a prince.

Chapter Three

I walked into the restaurant, and an Asian woman dressed in an elegant black gown escorted me to Mr. Tong’s table. I was very conscious of the air hitting my legs. Lotta skin showing in this thing.

First thing I noticed about Prince Charming? He was already eating. Was there no end to his rudeness? The usher pulled out my chair, and I sat. “Thank you very much,” I cooed in my rich-and-famous tone.

“What would you like for a drink, madam?” the young Asian waiter asked.

“Um…”
Anna, I’m Anna
. “I’ll have red wine, thank you.” He listed several to choose from, none of which I had a clue about. “How about you choose for me?

Thank you.” Final, firm.

“Yes, madam.”

I glanced around and cleared my throat before planting my gaze on him. “Enjoying your meal, I hope?”

He didn’t stop or bother to look up. “Yes. I am.” He checked his watch before finally leveling his gaze on me. The decadent lighting in the restaurant made his dark eyes feel like warm mocha. Yes, feel. I could feel his eyes. Maybe ’cause he probed me with them. No, the stare he gave me was more than just probing. He seemed…kind of disgusted. Surely disgruntled.

Hold his gaze, hold his gaze. Hold your smile.

“So I was thinking…” I kept my voice light. “After dinner I could show you around town? There’s the—”

“Surely you don’t expect to drag me around the city. It was a long flight. We’ll begin your endless tours tomorrow.” That annoyed gaze dropped lazily to my gown, and butterflies rammed my stomach. His eyes made the same bored return to my wide ones. Then he just stared into me. Contemplating. For a rude eternity.

I waited—trapped, pinned.
Just say it. Say what’s on your mind, you…stupid man.

He raised his wineglass to his lips, not breaking that connection. Took a sip. Set it down. Licked his lips. Heat pooled inside my stomach, setting those butterflies on fire. He chuckled and lowered his gaze.

“You behave like a virgin.”

I couldn’t stop the intake of shocked breath. Then the stupid gaspy laugh. “How utterly ridiculous.” Okay, why would I even say that?

He brought his glass to his lips and met my gaze. I lowered my eyes, barely escaping that lethal snare again. “What is?”

Calm. Down. Anna. You’re Anna.

I thanked the server for the glass of wine he appeared with. Then took several ladylike sips, wishing I could guzzle. “You are ridiculous, Mr. Tong.”

His light laugh seemed genuinely…pleased? Strange man. “Because I know a virgin when I see one?”

Oh hell, was he really saying this? I took a huge swig of wine and shook my head, then set the glass down a little too hard. “Because you
think
you know a virgin when you see one.”

“So you’re not a virgin?”

Anger tingled along my spine, and I leveled a bold gaze on him. “That is none of your business.” A smile tugged at his full lips. Dammit, he was distracting.

I casually scoped out the restaurant, fighting for something to turn the tables.

“You look beautiful, by the way.”

Composure ka-poof. Heat crawled over my neck and face. “Thank you.”
Meet his gaze. You’re
Anna
. I did and immediately got lost in that liquid cocoa stare. “You look… You look, um…” He chuckled again, more loudly. “See?”

The spell broke. “See what?”

“You’re a virgin.” Fact established.

“As if you could tell something like that from such a…a silly conversation. And so what if I was?

Am? There’s no law that says I can’t be one, is there?” Anger stiffened my backbone.

He reclined in his chair and drew his lower lip briefly between his teeth, then smiled. A one-sided

—God help me—dimpled smile. “Not at all.” He raised his glass and saluted me.

What was that supposed to mean? “Then again, maybe I’ve been around the block more times than you?”

More sincere laughter. At my expense. “How do you know…that I’m not a virgin too?” Too? Anger growled through me. Didn’t matter that he was right; that wasn’t the point. “You? A virgin? Now that’s a funny one.” An unladylike snicker escaped.

“Are you ready to order, madam?”

I turned to the waiter. “Actually, no. I’m just going to have more wine. Ate earlier.”

“Very well, madam.” He took the wine bottle from the table and filled my glass.

I met Mr. Tong’s dancing gaze again, irked by the smile teasing at his lips. “So is that your business?

Sex?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Of course not.”

“Of course not,” I mumbled and nodded, taking a few more gulps of wine. What a piece of work, this guy. I barked a laugh. And another. “You are something else, aren’t you?”

“Am I?”

This was funny to him? “Oh, yes.” I nodded with a grin, then took a few more gulps of wine, fighting the tremble in my hand. The bite of the wine was awful. Oh, but the effect. Yes, that would do. My stomach loosened. My spine warmed. Then hardened. “You don’t seem the typical rich, spoiled-man type.” I stared at the full-blown smile he wore, pissed at how damned handsome it made him. So amused with the little virgin, was he? Well, I didn’t see how that fit in with my job description. I downed the rest of my wine and stood up. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll be retiring, Mr. Tong.”

“Tong,” he corrected with a grin.

I grabbed my clutch. “Tung, Tong—whatever.” I turned and ran right into the waiter. Goddamned heel snagged in the carpet. Before I could hit the floor, strong arms wrapped my upper body and righted me.

I found myself staring into Tong’s chocolate eyes. What else was there? What else had there ever been?

“I’ll drive you.”

He’ll drive me?
“I drove myself,” I said drily, remembering he was an asshole.

“I’ll drive you.” His arm hooked inside mine, and he smoothly led me out.

“You are a pushy prick, do you know that?” I smiled at the hostess who bowed toward us both.

“I see you don’t drink either. Two glasses of wine, and you’re drunk.” I snorted out a laugh. “Oh, I
drink
.” I leaned and whispered in his ear. “And I screw people. Men.

Sexy men.”

“Where are you parked?” he asked, holding me up on the sidewalk outside.

“Wow, that was some really good wine.” I sucked in a breath at all the Christmas decorations and lights. “How beautiful. Like a dream. What kind of wine was that again?”

“Where are you parked, Anna?” he repeated.

I regarded him. “You already asked that.” I glanced around and pointed at the SUV across the street.

“There I am.”

He led me across, and my damned heel got caught on God only knew what. His arm wrapped my waist and pulled me against him. “I hate these sorry excuses for shoes.” I hiccupped. “Torture devices are what they are. They’re the most idiotic creations. And how much you wanna bet”—I pointed in his face

—“that a man came up with the stupid idea of high heels?”

“Actually, no, a woman did.”

Holding on to the SUV, I snorted as he opened the door. “I don’t believe you.”

“That’s fine. Anna.”

I plopped unladylike into the seat and looked at him. “You know what? Could you call me…Sarah?

For short?”

He peered in at me, holding the frame of the Jeep. “Sarah? Short for Anna?”

“Mmhm.” I nodded, staring at him. “Gosh, you’re so cute.”

He glanced right and smiled, then shook his head. “Okay. Sarah.” The door whomped shut. I watched him gracefully walk to the driver’s side and get in. “And I bet if a woman did make the first heels, then she did it for a man.”

“Oh, you think?” He moved my hand and helped me with my seat belt.

“Most definitely.” I leaned toward him. “Mmm, you smell amazing. Men are at the bottom of all stupid decisions women make.”

The seat belt clicked, and he raised his head, putting our faces close. My heart raced, and the butterflies soared. I stared at his lips. How would they feel on mine? They were so full, his mouth broad.

He started the SUV and pulled out into traffic.

Ugh. I took the stupid shoes off, then rolled down the window. And tossed them out.

“What are you doing?” he asked incredulously.

“What I shoulda done all along. I shoulda worn sneakers and jeans. Not all this malarkey. I’m not made for this crap.” I hiccupped, put a foot on the dashboard, and rested my head back with a sigh. “I’m a country girl, Tang.”

“Tong.”

“Mmm, yeah. Tongue.”

Fifteen minutes later, and—wow—we were already walking into the suite. “You know what, I’d like another drink. Wanna drink with me?”

He turned from locking the door and walked past me. “Definitely a virgin,” he murmured.

Oh, no, he did not. I marched to the wet bar and got my own damned drink. Wasn’t wine, but it was a nice gold, happy color. I poured a little glass, then took a giant gulp. The burn down my throat was unbearable, and I coughed. “Shhhit, that was nasty.” I put the glass down and frowned at the room. “Hey.” I found him facing the giant wall of windows in the next room. “Where’s all the Christmas decorations?

Why doesn’t your room have any?”

“Because I don’t celebrate Christmas.”

What? “Why on earth not?”

I saw his eyes roll in the window reflection. “Do you celebrate Obon?”

“O-what?”

He left the window and breezed past me. I followed his liger gait to the hallway leading to his bedroom. “It’s a Japanese holiday,” he mumbled before disappearing.

Japanese holiday? I snorted. Like Christmas? Yeah right, Mr. Japanese Scrooge. Oh well. I grinned at the paradise around me, still gorgeous all the same. I twirled in the middle of the sitting room between the kitchen and the living room, then continued the gracious ballet to my private abode. I went through all the boxes, seeing what goodies awaited. I sucked in my breath at finding a black sheer gown. Ohhhh, Anna? What on earth did she have planned? Was she going to seduce this guy?