Kitabı oku: «The Trouble with Valentine's», sayfa 3

Henry glanced at Nick and narrowly avoided snorting.

‘Your sales manner is atrocious,’ Nick told his old schoolfriend.

‘Fortunately, my bullshit detector is as well honed as ever,’ said Henry. ‘I can set the Valentine ring aside for you for a couple of weeks. You can think about it.’

‘I don’t need the “let me set it aside for you” offer,’ said Nick. ‘I feel special enough.’

‘Old friend,’ drawled Henry. ‘Let me do it for you anyway.’

‘Did you get the week off work?’ Nick asked her as they exited Tiffany’s a short time later.

‘Yes. The owner’s niece is going to fill in for me,’ said Hallie, recalling the conversation she’d had with her employer earlier that morning. No need to tell Nick that if the niece liked the job, Hallie was out of one. If everything went to plan she wouldn’t need the job anyway.

‘What about your brother? The one you’re staying with. Does he know you’re going to Hong Kong?’

‘Not yet. It turns out he’s also going to be away next week.’ And wasn’t that a fine piece of timing. ‘I’ll leave him a note.’

‘That’ll go down well,’ muttered Nick.

‘Trust me. It’s as good a plan as any.’ Hallie smiled brightly. She really didn’t want to dwell on what Tris would have to say about this. ‘So where to now?’

Ten minutes later they were standing outside one of the most exclusive clothing boutiques in Knightsbridge. ‘Are we sure about this?’ asked Hallie hesitantly. Buying an outfit or two from a mid-range clothing store was one thing, dropping a bundle on a week’s worth of designer clothes was quite another. ‘I’m all for being well dressed but do we really need to shop somewhere quite this exclusive?’

‘Don’t worry, dear,’ said Clea. ‘I get a very good discount here.’

‘You want to hope so,’ Hallie muttered to Nick as she stared at the sophisticated power suit in the display window. ‘I think it only fair to warn you that I still have nightmares about the first time my oldest brother took me shopping for clothes. Pinafore dresses that came to my ankles. Sweaters up to my chin. Wide brimmed straw hats …’

‘And very sensible too dear, those hats, what with the harsh Australian sun and your skin type,’ said Clea.

Hallie groaned. And here she’d been hoping that Clea would be an ally when it came to clothes. ‘My point is I battled for years for the right to choose my own clothes and I’m not about to relinquish it now.’ She pointed a stern finger at Nick. ‘You can tell me what kind of look you’re after but I won’t have you choosing clothes for me. Are we clear on that?’

‘Well, I—’

‘Having said that, I will of course ask your opinion on the things I’ve chosen. I’m not an unreasonable woman. You can tell me if you like something.’

‘And if I don’t?’

Hallie considered the question. She could be a bit contrary at times. ‘Probably best not to say anything,’ she said and, squaring her shoulders, sailed on into the shop.

The boutique was streamlined and classy, the coiffed and polished saleswoman just that little bit daunting, never mind that she greeted Clea with friendly familiarity.

‘Size eight, I think,’ said the saleswoman after turning an assessing eye on Hallie.

‘Ten,’ said Hallie.

‘In this shop, darling, you’re an eight.’

Hallie liked the woman better already.

‘Do you have any colour preferences?’ the woman asked.

‘I like them all.’

The saleswoman barely suppressed a shudder. ‘Yes, dear. But do they all like you? Let’s start with grey.’

Hallie opened her mouth to protest but the woman was having none of it. She pulled a matching skirt and jacket from the rack and held them out commandingly. ‘Of course, it relies on the wearer for colour and life but I think you’ve got that covered.’

‘Umm …’ Hallie took the suit from the woman and held it up for Nick’s inspection. ‘What do you think?’

‘I’m confused,’ he said. ‘If I tell you I like it you may or may not decide to buy it, depending on whether you like it. However, if I say I don’t like it you’ll feel compelled to buy it whether you like it or not. Am I right?’

‘Yes.’ Hallie felt a smile coming on. ‘So what do you think?’

‘Try it on.’

And then when she did and his eyes narrowed and his face grew carefully impassive. ‘No?’ she asked. ‘It’s probably not the look you were after.’

‘Yes,’ he said firmly. ‘It is.’

Still she hesitated. ‘It’s very—’

‘Elegant,’ he said. ‘Understated. Just what we’re looking for.’

Elegant, eh? Not a term she’d normally use to describe herself. She’d won the right to choose her own clothes in her late teens and in typical teenager fashion she’d headed straight for the shortest skirts and the brightest, tightest tops. Okay, so she’d matured a little since then—she did have some loose-fitting clothes somewhere in her wardrobe but truth was they didn’t often see daylight. She had never, ever, worn anything as classy as this. The suit clung to her every curve, the material was soft and luxurious beneath her hands, like cashmere only not. Even the colour wasn’t so bad once you got used to it. And yet …

‘It’s not really me though, is it?’ she said.

‘Think of it as a costume,’ said Nick. ‘Think corporate wife.’

‘I don’t know any corporate wives.’ Hallie turned to Clea, who was busily browsing a rack of clothes. ‘Unless you’re one?’

‘No!’ said Nick hastily. ‘She’s not!’

‘It’s very grey, isn’t it, dear,’ said Clea, who glittered like a Vegas slot machine in her gold trousers and blood-red chiffon shirt with its strategically placed psychedelic gold swirls.

‘Greyer than a Chinese funeral vase,’ agreed Hallie glumly. ‘Do you have anything a bit more cheerful?’ she asked the saleswoman.

‘What about this?’ said Clea, holding up a boldly flowered silk sundress in fuchsia, lime and ivory. ‘This is pretty.’

‘Why my mother?’ muttered Nick. ‘Why couldn’t we have brought along your mother?’

‘She died when I was six,’ said Hallie, and waited for the silence that always came. She didn’t mind talking about it, honest. She barely remembered her mother but the memories she did have were good ones.

‘Sorry,’ said Nick quietly. ‘You said you’d been raised by your father and brothers but I didn’t make the connection. Try it on.’

And when she did …

‘She’ll take it,’ he told the saleswoman, and Clea nodded her agreement. ‘That’s non- negotiable,’ he said to Hallie.

So much for the rules of shopping. The dashing Nicholas Cooper had a bossy streak she was more than familiar with. ‘Lucky for you I happen to agree.’

‘His father had excellent taste in clothes as well,’ said Clea. ‘Bless his soul.’

But Hallie wasn’t listening. She was looking at herself in the mirror and her reflection was frowning right back at her as she turned and twirled, first one way and then the other. Finally, hands on hips, she turned to Nick.

‘Does this dress make me look fat?’

Two hours later, Hallie and Clea had purchased enough clothes for a six-month stint on the QEII and as far as Nick was concerned he was neither the boring geek Hallie had accused him of being when he made her get the dove-grey suit, nor the skinflint his mother claimed. No, for a man to endure so much and complain so little, he was quite simply a saint.

‘So where to now? Are we done?’ said Hallie after they’d seen Clea to her Mercedes and watched her drive away. ‘Is there anything you need?’

‘A bar,’ he muttered with heartfelt sincerity.

‘Good call,’ said Hallie. ‘I’ll come too. I never realised boutique shopping was such thirsty work. Mind you, I’ve never bought more than a couple of items of clothes at any one time before either. Who knew?’

‘You’re not going to rehash every dress decision you just made, are you?’

‘Who, me?’ She was grinning from ear to ear. ‘Only if you insist.’

Nick shuddered, spotted a sports bar a few doors up and practically bolted for the door. He needed a drink, somewhere to sit. Somewhere with dark wood, dark carpet, dim lighting, good Scotch and no mirrors. He needed it bad.

‘Ah,’ said Hallie as she slid into the booth beside him. ‘Very nice.’

‘You don’t find it a little too … masculine?’

‘Nope. Feels pretty homely to me. I have four brothers, remember?’

‘Trust me, I hadn’t forgotten. Where do they live?’

‘Wherever their work takes them. Luke’s a Navy diver midway through a three-year stint in Guam, Pete’s flying charter planes in Greece, Jake runs a Martial Arts Dojo in Singapore, and Tristan lives here in London. He’s the one I’m staying with while I do my course.’

‘Tristan?’ After Pete, Luke and Jake, a brother named Tristan sounded somewhat incongruous. ‘What does Tristan do?’

‘He works for Interpol.’

‘Paper pusher?’

‘Black ops,’ she corrected. ‘Somewhere along the line Tris was seconded by some special law enforcement group. I forget the name.’ Not quite the truth. Truth was, Hallie had never been told who Tristan worked for these days. She tried not to let that bother her. ‘But he’s a pussycat really.’

Sure he was. All black ops specialists were pussycats. It was such a caring, non-confrontational profession. ‘You know, maybe I need a different type of wife for Hong Kong,’ he said. ‘Maybe I need a brunette.’

‘I was a brunette once,’ said Hallie. ‘The hairdresser was a young guy, just starting out and we decided to experiment. He left the salon not long after that.’ She sighed heavily. ‘I’m sure Tris wouldn’t really have castrated him.’

Maybe he was doomed. ‘Or a blonde,’ he muttered. ‘I could always replace you with a blonde.’

‘Ha. You can’t fool me. You’re not going to replace me now; you’d have to go clothes shopping again.’

Nick shuddered. She was right. Replacing her was out of the question.

‘Besides,’ she continued blithely, ‘It’s not as if I’m going to be telling any of my brothers the finer details of our little arrangement. They wouldn’t understand.’

On this they were in total accord.

‘So tell me about your family,’ she said, deftly changing the focus back to him and his. ‘When did your father die?’

‘Two years ago. He was a property developer.’

‘And Clea? You said she wasn’t a corporate wife. What does she do?’

‘Many people find it hard to believe but she’s an architect. A very good one.’

‘Is that how they met? Through their work?’

‘No, they met at a birthday party. Clea was in the cake. I try not to think about it.’

‘What about brothers and sisters?’

‘There’s just me.’

‘Didn’t you ever get lonely?’ she asked.

‘Nope.’ She looked like she was struggling with the only child concept. ‘I had plenty of friends, plenty of company. And whenever I had any spare time there was always a computer handy and a dozen imaginary worlds to get lost in.’

‘And now you create fantasy worlds for a living. I guess that means you always knew what you wanted to do, even as a kid.’

‘I always did it. Is that the same thing?’

‘Probably.’ Hallie’s smile was wry. ‘With me it was different … every week a new idea … astronaut, race car driver, professional stuntwoman … My family’s still not convinced I won’t change my mind about wanting to work in the art business.’

‘And will you?’

‘Who knows?’ she said with a shrug. ‘I love the thrill that comes with finding something old and beautiful and I love discovering its history and the history of the people behind it. Hopefully I’ll find work with a respectable dealer in Asian antiquities and it’ll be fascinating but if it’s not … well … I’ll do something else. At least I’ll have given it a try.’

‘You want to make your own mistakes.’

‘That’s it!’ There was fire in her eyes, passion in her voice. ‘Do you have any idea how hard it is to make your own decisions with four older brothers all hell-bent on guiding you through life? I mean, honestly, Nick, I’m twenty-four years old and I’m not a slow learner. So what if I make a mistake or two along the way? I’ll fix them. I certainly don’t need my brothers charging in to straighten me out every time I step sideways.’ Hallie’s chin came up; he was beginning to know that look. ‘I can take care of myself. I want to take care of myself. Is that too much to ask?’

‘Not at all. What you want is freedom.’

‘And equality,’ she said firmly. ‘And it wouldn’t kill them to show me a bit of respect every now and then too.’

Right. Nick quelled the slight twinge of sympathy he was beginning to feel for her brothers and concentrated on the bigger picture. Freedom, equality, respect. He could manage that. It wasn’t as if she was asking for the sun, the moon and the stars to go with it.

‘I want you to know that even though I’m paying you a great deal of money to deceive my future business partner you have my utmost respect,’ he stated firmly. ‘We’re in this together as equals.’

And to the drinks waiter who had appeared at his side, ‘Two single-malt Scotches. Neat.’

CHAPTER FOUR

PREPARING THE HOUSE FOR the arrival of Nicholas Cooper and his wife wasn’t a difficult task. Jasmine often acted as hostess for her father. Anything from arranging dinner parties to organising tickets and dealing with invitations. Personal assistant, Kai had called her more than once, but it was only to humour her. Jasmine contributed so very little to the running of this household, what with the housekeeper who came in three times a week, and the gardener who worked every morning and Kai who saw to the cars and the dozens of other things her father requested of him.

Bodyguard, her father still called him, only Kai had never been just that.

She really didn’t know what he was.

Eleven years old, she’d been, when her father had brought Kai home one night shortly after her mother’s death. It had been Jasmine’s bedtime and she’d been worried because her father wasn’t home yet. She’d worried about everything in those days.

Her father had called her into his home office and she’d stopped in the doorway, not dressed for visitors but unable to look away from the young man standing so straight and still beside her father. In profile, he’d been the most beautiful boy she’d ever seen, and that included on the television. And then he’d turned to look at her and his face had been so pale and he’d looked so incredibly lost. As lost as she felt.

‘Meng Kai’s going to be living here with us,’ her father had said, and Kai’s lips had twisted into a bitter smile, even as he offered her a small bow. Jasmine bowed back, lower, because Meng Kai was older, maybe eighteen, and Jasmine knew her manners.

She’d looked up at him again, wanting to ask why he was staying with them and for how long, and maybe she would ask her father those things when they were alone, but not now. Her father wouldn’t like it if she asked those questions now.

‘He’ll be staying here indefinitely,’ her father said quietly, as if reading her mind, and the utter silence that had followed had been clouded with an emotion that to this day Jasmine couldn’t quite define. Maybe it had been despair.

‘Did they take Meng Kai’s mother too?’ she’d asked, and her hushed voice had rippled across that silence and made the boy flinch.

‘Something like that,’ her father had offered gruffly – her father didn’t like to talk about what had happened to her mother, Jasmine knew that, but household staff gossiped and Jasmine had big ears and silent feet and she knew full well what had happened to her mother. She knew what loss felt like. And so too – it seemed – did this Kai, who still hadn’t spoken and whose eyes skittered away from hers every time she looked at him.

‘It’s okay,’ she said and stepped hesitantly forward, first one step and then another until she reached his side. She slipped her hand inside Kai’s and frowned when Kai tensed and sent her father a panicked look. Her father looked tense too, but he said nothing, so Jasmine filled the gap. ‘They can’t get us here. We just have to stay away from the windows and not go outside without permission and do exactly what the guards say. You’re safe here. No monsters can get at us here.’

Kai had looked down at her and there’d been a world of pain in his beautiful black eyes as he’d replied, ‘I know.’

‘Kai’s a bodyguard,’ her father had said finally. ‘He’ll see to your protection.’

There had been bodyguards on the grounds and in the house for weeks – at least half a dozen of them at any one time. Jasmine didn’t know why they would need any more, or why her father would choose a bodyguard so young.

She did know – instinctively – that Meng Kai was special. ‘Are you like Bruce Lee?’

‘No one’s like Bruce Lee,’ Meng Kai said.

‘Jackie Chan?’

‘No.’

Jasmine eyed him speculatively. ‘Maybe if you smiled.’

But Kai hadn’t smiled. Not during those first few months. Not for a very long time, and then only rarely.

Meng Kai had moved into the apartment above the garage, he’d had free rein of the house. It hadn’t been long before the housekeeper and the gardener and Jasmine’s tutors all answered to him. Jasmine had answered to him too – such a timid little thing she’d once been. No thought of disobedience – if Kai or her father told her to do something, Jasmine did it. So eager to please. So damn lonely, only Kai hadn’t wanted to be friends with her. Not at first.

And then the levee had given way and all of a sudden Kai had unbent – though only with her – and Jasmine had taken full advantage of his change of heart. Kai become her confidante, her sounding board, the big brother she’d never had. Kai was comfort, he was protection, and most of all he was hers.

To all intents they’d been family, Jasmine thought grimly, returning to the now just long enough to place new toiletries in the guest bathroom. Father, older brother, younger sister.

And then Jasmine had turned sixteen and Kai twenty-four, and Kai had fought hard for Jasmine to have more freedom, more friends. ‘She’s too sheltered,’ Kai had said bluntly, during one of his rare arguments with her father. ‘You have to give her room to grow. You can’t make her world this small.’

‘She has everything money can buy,’ her father had countered.

‘She needs freedom. We both do. She can’t continue to look to me for all those things you don’t allow her to experience any other way. Send her to school. Let her make friends. Widen her focus.’

Part of her had applauded Kai’s words. Part of her had been fearful. To this day, Jasmine didn’t know which emotion would have won out, because her father had been immovable.

Jasmine’s home-schooling would continue as usual. Her strictly regulated social outings would continue, as usual.

And no matter what Kai had said about needing his freedom, Kai had stayed too.

On the morning of Jasmine’s seventeenth birthday, Kai had taken her to the flower market. She’d thought of the trip as a birthday outing, at first. Thought that Kai had wanted to please her, and he had pleased her. He’d bought her street-stall food and given her one of his rare, unguarded smiles when she’d purchased a fake jade turtle on a leather band and slipped it over her head.

She’d been truly happy in that moment; and Kai had reached out to untwist the little turtle and his knuckles had brushed her skin and his eyes had met hers and then he’d withdrawn his hand slowly, almost casually, and put his hand to the back of his head as he’d turned away.

Such a fleeting touch shouldn’t have had the power to throw Jasmine’s world into chaos. Kai had always been beautiful to her. He’d always been her hero.

But just for that moment in time she hadn’t thought of him as a brother.

She’d bought flowers for the household after that and had them delivered, and she’d tried not to dwell on Kai’s touch and the awkwardness that followed. Such an innocent, everyday touch. Kai had meant nothing by it. Nothing at all.

Kai hadn’t wanted to go to the nearby bird market but Jasmine had persisted and finally got her way. Walk it off, she told herself. Focus on something else, something other than Kai. She’d heard that sentiment just days earlier, when Kai had confronted her father, and all of a sudden she saw a reason behind Kai’s impassioned words on her behalf.

A reason she barely knew how to acknowledge.

Morning had flowed around them, warm and bright as they’d made their way on foot to the bird market. Early morning, full of bright-eyed songbirds in their tiny bamboo morning cages. Plain little things, some of them, until she closed her eyes and listened, and then the beauty of the sound had taken her breath away.

So many birds, so many cages; all sorts of birds and everything one could possibly think to feed them. Expensive, the best of these birds. Doting owners who lavished their attention upon them. It had been such a welcome distraction from the memory of Kai’s touch. Something else to think about besides the smooth weight of the little plastic turtle against her skin. Jasmine had loved strolling through the bird market.

Kai, upon reflection, had not.

‘What do you see?’ he’d asked as they reached the end of one crooked alley way and turned to step into the next. ‘Why do you like it?’

‘I like it because there’s life here, and celebration, and beauty and sound and old men whose smiles fill their faces when their favourite songbird sings. There’s colour here, and frenzy. A social structure built around these alleyways. Why wouldn’t I like it?’

‘Have you ever wondered,’ he said, and his voice was low and rough and he would not look at her, ‘what they’d sound like if they were free?’

Three days after the marathon shopping trip, Hallie boarded a plane to Hong Kong. She’d been manicured, pedicured, pampered and polished and was corporate-wife chic in her lightweight camel-coloured trousers and pink camisole. Her shoes matched her top, her handbag was Hermès, and Nick was at her side, thoroughly eye-catching in a grey business suit and crisp white business shirt minus the tie. She was the woman who had it all and it was all pure fantasy.

That didn’t mean she couldn’t embrace the moment.

Wispy streaks of cloud scattered the midday sky, their seats were business class, the take-off was perfect, and Hallie relaxed into her seat, prepared to be thoroughly indulged, only to discover that any woman sitting next to Nick was more likely to be thoroughly ignored. That or she was currently invisible to the women of the world as they dimpled, sighed, primped and preened for him.

The flight attendants settled once the flight was underway and went about their business with efficient professionalism, but the encouraging smiles of the female passengers continued. One innovative young lady even managed to trip and fall gracefully into Nick’s lap amidst a flurry of breathless apology and a great deal of full body contact.

‘Do women always fall over their feet trying to get your attention?’ she asked once the woman had gone.

‘Actually, she fell over my feet,’ said Nick. ‘They were sticking out into the aisle. It was my fault she landed in my lap.’

‘And her breasts in your face? That was your fault too?’

Nick shrugged, trying to look a picture of innocence and failing miserably. ‘She was trying to get up,’ he said in her defence. ‘These things happen.’

‘So I see.’

He was used to it, Hallie decided. He was just plain used to women falling all over him. ‘You know, you’d save yourself a lot of unwanted attention if you wore a wedding ring,’ she said. She was wearing one, along with the terribly traditional diamond engagement ring. As far as the world was concerned she was well and truly taken. Nick’s hands, however, were ring-free.

‘I wasn’t wearing one last time I visited,’ he countered. ‘It’d seem a bit strange if I turned up wearing one now.’

‘No it wouldn’t, considering what happened.’ She was beginning to sense some reluctance here. ‘Say we really were married, would you wear a ring then?’

‘You’d have to insist.’ He slid her a sideways glance. ‘You would too, wouldn’t you?’

‘Absolutely.’ She held her left hand up between them, angling her fingers so that the diamond sparkled in the light. ‘Some people actually respect the sanctity of marriage and don’t hit on a person wearing a wedding ring.’

‘Funny,’ he said dryly. ‘You don’t look that naïve’

‘Hah. It just so happens I don’t think I’m being naïve. But I do concede that if you never wear one we’ll never know.’

The clumsy young thing was back, all purring solicitousness as she asked Nick if she’d hurt him, if he was feeling all right, and was there anything, absolutely anything, she could do for him.

Honestly!

‘Oh, I think we’ve got it covered.’ Hallie smiled, sharp as a blade, as her hand- the one with those shiny rings on it – came to rest high on Nick’s trouser clad thigh. Nothing subtle about that particular manoeuvre; she was claiming ownership and the other woman knew it. ‘On second thoughts, darling, you feel a bit cold,’ she said to Nick as she squeezed gently and slid her hand a fraction higher up his thigh. Muscles jumped beneath her palm even as the rest of him went absolutely still. ‘Would you like a blanket for your lap? There’s one in the webbing in front of you.’

With an annoyed pout and a narrow-eyed glare for Hallie, the other woman made herself scarce. Not that Nick noticed. His wife had his attention now. His complete and utter attention.

‘What are you doing?’ he rasped.

‘Practising.’

‘For what? The mile-high club?’

Hallie’s smile widened. Really, his imagination was so delightfully easy to manipulate. ‘I’m practising my possessive moves for when I meet Jasmine.’

‘Well, would you mind practising with your hand somewhere else? I’m not made of stone.’

This was debatable. Right this minute, Nicholas Cooper’s thigh was hard as a rock. ‘Sorry, my mistake. I thought we agreed on physical contact in public places,’ she said as she withdrew her hand, reached for the blanket and draped it across his knees. She shouldn’t bait him; she knew it. But she couldn’t resist. ‘This is a public place,’ she said sweetly. ‘And we did have an audience.’

‘You know you’re right. You’re absolutely right,’ he said. He flicked off the overhead light, brought her hand back to his thigh and drew the blanket over his lap with a smile that was pure challenge. ‘Feel free to continue.’

Okay, so there was a slight chance she’d been asking for it. Now he was asking for it and she was tempted, very tempted, to deliver. But if she did, things would get out of hand. Or out of trousers and into hand, so to speak, and heaven only knew what would happen after that. Come to think of it, she had a pretty good idea what would happen after that …

And what if they were caught?

They’d be thrown off the plane in disgrace. A big red ‘deviant’ stamp would appear in her passport and then Interpol would sign her up for sexual misconduct reform school and Tris would find out and, oh, the horror …

Nick wasn’t the only one with a vivid imagination.

Feigning nonchalance, Hallie withdrew her hand from his thigh and reached for her glass of water. She was flustered; she was aroused; she was totally out of her league.

She was enjoying every minute of it. ‘Actually, I’ve changed my mind,’ she said.

‘Good call.’ He exhaled deeply.

‘After all, it wouldn’t do to forget that this is strictly a business arrangement.’

‘Exactly.’

Exactly. The sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach was not disappointment. Nick was her employer, nothing more, and only for one week. After that it was contract fulfilled and goodbye. Surely she could resist his considerable charms for one lousy week.

All she needed was a more professional approach.

‘So how do you want to approach this business of being married?’ she said crisply. ‘Are we aiming for warm and fuzzy or a fiery attraction of opposites?’

‘Think of yourself as a cross between a personal assistant and a German Shepherd,’ he said. ‘Supportive, loyal, and when necessary, extremely protective.’

A German Shepherd? Ugh. This new approach worked fast. ‘Anything else?’

‘Are you sure you couldn’t manage a simper?’

‘Positive.’

Nick sighed. ‘Just be yourself then. That’ll work too.’

‘Oh.’ And after a moment’s reflection, ‘That was a nice thing to say.’

‘You realize that was almost a simper?’

‘It was not.’

Nick’s answering smile was suspiciously gleeful as he flicked on his overhead light, reached for the in-flight paper and snapped it open, effectively ending the discussion.

Hallie glared at the back page of the paper. It was shaking ever so slightly. He was laughing at her, dammit. ‘That was not a simper.’

‘If you say so, dearest.’

A fiery marriage, she decided. A constant battle of words and of wits and it was a damn good thing this marriage was only going to last a week.

Any longer and she’d probably kill him.

Twelve hours and several time zones later, they touched down at Chek Lap Kok International Airport, collected their luggage, and met up with the Teys’ driver, who went by the name of Kai. They followed the silent Jet Li lookalike through the streamlined arrivals terminal, out through the huge automatic opening glass doors, and they were in Hong Kong.

‘Phew.’ Wide-eyed at the sleek steel-and-glass building they’d just emerged from, Hallie paused to gather her composure. ‘It’s cooler than I thought it would be.’

‘It’s winter,’ countered Nick. ‘If you want hot and humid, we’ll have to come back in September.’

‘Ah.’

They followed the Teys’ driver towards an illegally parked Mercedes and Hallie began to watch their guide with increasing interest. Maybe it was the easy, graceful way he moved or the way he seemed to know what was happening around them without ever seeming to notice. Maybe it was the way he loaded their suitcases into the trunk as if they were empty, which was definitely not the case. Maybe it was simply that he was gorgeous, with a quiet intensity about him that drew the eye, but … no. That wasn’t it either. He reminded her of someone.