Love in the China Sea Read online

  “He is hard to capture on paper,” Anne agreed in a deliberately cautious tone. That was certainly the understatement of the year! Anne suppressed a smile as she tried to imagine how Madge would react if she knew the truth.

  “Well, you’ll think of something,” Madge consoled. “I’ve never known you to be stuck long for an angle.” She stood and moved to her own desk to answer the telephone. “By the way, I like your new hairstyle. That chignon was elegant, but so severe!”

  Automatically, Anne reached up and touched the waves that now tumbled freely to her shoulders. She’d been wearing her hair loose since the day she had brunched with Kai. “Thanks, Madge.”

  Anne turned her attention again to the pages of her notepad—most of them blank. After two sessions in Edward Payton’s office she still didn’t have a solid enough grasp on the man to write the opening paragraph of her article.

  Kai had been far more cooperative than she had anticipated. In his office, wearing custom-tailored suits and formal manners, he was every inch the British merchant All she needed to do was ask the right questions, turn on the tape recorder, then sink back into the sofa and let him talk He had a limitless knowledge about precious stones and the developing market trends, and had already supplied her with enough information for several articles.

  No, there was no problem with the interviews. The real barrier to the completion of the story was the way her brain ceased to function whenever he began to speak. Kai’s deep, expressive voice threw a monkey wrench into her thought processes. And whenever he emphasized a point with those strong, competent hands she remembered only the stimulation of his caresses.

  “It’s crazy,” she muttered, chastising herself more severely than any editor ever had. “And I’m crazy, too—absolutely, positively, certifiably bonkers.”

  A loner by nature, Anne was used to finding her own solutions to problems. She had chosen a competitive profession, one that was famous for spawning superficial relationships and dominating ambitions. Reporters were only as good as their latest scoop, and if she didn’t get a first draft off to World Trends she would have only herself to blame when she lost the assignment and all the prestige it promised. She swiveled resolutely in her chair and rolled a sheet of paper into the typewriter.

  “A, B, C, D—” Dick Tabor leaned over her shoulder and read aloud the letters that Anne had typed onto the clean white page. “That’s a hell of a lead-in, Hunter,” he teased.

  “What’s happened to privacy around here?” she snapped. “I’m only warming up.” Anne regretted her waspish tone when his friendly smile drooped into a hurt frown. “Sorry,” she murmured, lowering her gaze. “I didn’t mean to bite your head off.”

  “We all have our bad days.” Dick patted her shoulder. “But I hate to see you press yourself like this. Loosen up a little. And if you can’t get a handle on this Payton thing, then back off and let somebody else tackle him.”

  “I'm not pressing myself,” she denied vehemently. “And thank you just the same, but I can finish my own assignments.”

  “Okay. Okay.” He threw his hands up in a gesture of mock self-defense. “I don’t know what's playing havoc with your temper, but take it from a two-ulcer veteran, the rewards don’t justify the frustration,” he advised. “You’ve got a promising career ahead of you. So why waste all of this energy on a ‘maybe’ sale when you’ve got all sorts of definites piling up on your desk?”

  Anne opened her mouth to protest, but the words wouldn’t come. She felt a twinge of regret that he couldn’t see the lonely, confused woman hiding behind the efficient exterior she had polished to perfection. Dick had a right to expect top-flight performance from her.

  “Besides,” he added in an ominous tone, “New York is badgering me for something on this refugee story. They want to serialize it, and you haven’t submitted one damn word.” He lowered his bulk onto the corner of her desk and tipped her chin up. “I can’t hold them off much longer. Either you get busy on it or I reassign it. But this is your bread and butter, in case you’ve forgotten.”

  “No, I haven’t forgotten,” she grudgingly admitted.

  Anne balled her hands into tight fists. Nobody disliked her behavior right now more than she did. “I’ll get busy and put something together,” she promised.

  For a solid week Anne taxed herself mercilessly to produce the first in a series of editorials that Dick termed “brilliant and blistering.” Spurred on by his acclamations, she eked out enough spare time to tear into the material she had accumulated on Edward Payton. She didn’t allow herself the luxury of brooding about what might or might not come of an affair with Kai. Guilt, failure, rejection—she shook off the heavy burdens that had been gnawing at her confidence.

  Time lost all meaning as she immersed herself in the familiar groove of hard work. Day and night crowded together, and she experienced the thrill of triumph when the stacks of neatly typed pages were enveloped and mailed. Anne’s phone began to ring constantly—UNA’s editor-in-chief calling from New York to congratulate her on a job well done; World Trends wanting a few minor revisions on the Payton piece; three new stateside subscribers hoping to syndicate the entire refugee series.

  Anne’s memories were the only company she kept during the long, lonely nights. Her sense of loss was sharply painful whenever Kai’s black-eyed image invaded her dreams. The waxen beauty of flowers scenting the summer air—lovers strolling hand in hand along the crowded sidewalks—the deep purples of dusk and the first flames of sunrise—everywhere she looked, she was reminded of him.

  Anne was poring over yet another report on the refugee situation when she reached absentmindedly to answer the telephone.

  “Good morning. Anne.”

  “Kai!” Her heart leaped at the welcome sound of his voice.

  “I must apologize for not calling sooner,” he said. “It was necessary that I make an unscheduled buying trip to Tokyo and I only returned late last night.”

  “That’s okay,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut and remembering every inch of him. “I’ve been rather busy myself. As a matter of fact, it looks like you’re going to be the cover story in one of the fall issue of World Trends.”

  “Congratulations.” There was a smile in his voice—or was she only imagining it?

  “I’m due at a conference shortly, but I’m calling to invite you to join me on Saturday at my home on Victoria Peak. May I pick you up around ten that morning?” The husky timbre of his invitation was music to her ears.

  “That sounds lovely,” she replied, a heady sense of relief and delight bubbling through her veins. “I’ll see you then.”

  The next two days dragged by while Anne forced herself to concentrate on work. All she could think about was seeing Kai again.

  Sparkling blue skies and bright sunshine promised a glorious day when Anne awoke on Saturday. Her white silk sundress splashed with purple flowers had been an impulse purchase over yesterday’s long lunch hour, and she wondered whether Kai would like it.

  The material clung to her like a second skin, the bodice dipping low enough to show the cleft between her breasts and the thin straps baring her creamy shoulders. It was the most daring dress she had ever owned—a stark contrast to those sensible knits for the office—but it suited her mood. She turned in front of the mirror, examining her reflection from all angles. Her hair tumbled freely, brushing her temples and cheeks, then spilling onto her naked back. Anne knew instinctively that Kai would appreciate her softer appearance.

  “You look charming.” His compliment and caressing glance rewarded her efforts. The top was down on his Mercedes and Anne reveled in the wind as the car hummed smoothly toward the rugged green slopes of Victoria Peak.

  As the car began to climb the winding road up the mountain Kai shifted into a lower gear. Anne looked ahead at the granite face of the towering peak, a dramatic backdrop for the beautiful harbor below.

  “Have you always lived on Victoria Peak?” she asked.

  “I was
born in this house. My parents preferred the location because it’s much cooler than at sea level.”

  “What’s that?” Anne pointed toward a small mound of dirt thrust against the western slope of the peak. “It looks like a turtle climbing the mountain!”

  “It’s merely a bulge in the earth,” Edward explained. “But the Chinese consider it to be a real turtle. They believe that when the turtle reaches the summit of Victoria Peak, Hong Kong will sink into the sea and be lost forever.”

  They passed a number of elegant mansions before they turned into an oyster shell driveway lined with banyan trees. Anne’s eyes widened with awe. At the arc of the circular drive stood an imposing house, totally Chinese in architecture. Graceful columns supported the upswept ridges of a glazed tile roof. Past the sun-dappled, sandstone house Anne could see an arched bridge that led to a pagoda-shaped gazebo. The mystical simplicity of the landscape was enclosed by high red boundary walls.

  “It’s enchanting,” she breathed. “And I want to see everything.”

  The massive carved front door opened onto a coolly shadowed hallway. To her right was a large room in which a gleaming grand piano stood, sheet music at the ready. The polished parquet floor reflected the sunlight that filtered through the fronds of large green ferns that sat here and there on mahogany jardinieres.

  “It’s lovely.” Anne was fascinated. “Do you play?” She inclined her head toward the piano.

  “It’s my second favorite form of relaxation.” There was a twinkle in his coal-black eyes and a faint smile on his lips. “I prefer Chopin and can lose myself for hours when I play.”

  Anne wondered whether this man would ever cease to amaze her. As she turned to ask him about the glass-encased display of watches, she noticed a Chinese man standing in the doorway. Clad in baggy gray trousers and a matching jacket, he had quietly materialized and now spoke to Kai in rapid Chinese.

  Kai answered in the same language, then introduced Anne in English. “My guest, Miss Hunter. Anne, this is my manservant, Chen.”

  Chen bowed low to both of them before he left the room as silently as he had entered.

  “Excuse me for speaking to him when you cannot understand, but Chen is not bilingual, although he does understand some English. He has complete charge of my house and handles everything for me with only minimal instruction.”

  Kai gave Anne a short tour of the rest of his home, and then they exited at the rear and stood on a flagstone terrace. Wind chimes tinkled in the cool mountain breeze and she stood next to him, silently studying the exquisite view. The deep blue expanse of the South China Sea swept toward the horizon, its coastline a lazy, meandering border. Far below them in Victoria Harbor sampan sails were crisscrossed with the trailing black smoke of diesel freighters.

  “It's so peaceful here.” She sighed. Kai’s warm arm was wrapped around her waist and her head rested against his shoulder. An overflowing sense of contentment erased her loneliness, and she wished this moment could last forever.

  “This is where all of my dreams rendezvous.” His solemn gaze lingered on her profile. “Whenever I hear the word ‘home’ I think of standing here, absorbing the beauty and tranquility always waiting for me.”

  They stood in silent communion with the landscape and with each other for a while longer. Anne’s eyes were drawn again to the intriguing outline of the gazebo beyond the small arched bridge that she had noticed when they drove toward the house. “May we go over there?’ She gestured and he nodded, seeming pleased by her request.

  When they crossed the bridge Anne stopped to admire the enormous goldfish swimming in the pond below. The still water was festooned with large white lotus blossoms nestled among emerald leaves. Kai stood beside her and their reflections shimmered in the water beneath the span.

  Anne smiled with delight when she stepped up into the gazebo. Several cane chairs surrounded a small carved table on which sat two tiny cups and a carafe of rice wine. A platter of almond cookies and preserved fruit was centered on the table. Flower branches in a slender, translucent vase filled the air with the sweet fragrance of cherry blossoms.

  “I hoped this part of my home would intrigue you, so I asked Chen to prepare something for us.” Kai poured the rice wine into the cups and handed her one. “Would you care to join me?”

  “Gan Bei.” Anne’s version of the Chinese “bottoms up” evoked an amused chuckle from Kai. She lifted her cup to touch his and their eyes locked in a visual embrace.

  “Tell me what other projects you plan to undertake now that the article on Edward Payton is completed,” he encouraged.

  “Well, I’m still working on the refugee series. I haven’t visited a resettlement village in Kowloon yet, but I plan to do that before I finish the next installment.”

  Kai’s brow furrowed and angry concern clouded his eyes. “The last time we discussed this I emphasized the dangers of exposing these people. Perhaps I didn’t make it clear how very nasty they can be.”

  “Oh, didn’t you know? Danger is a foreign correspondent’s occupational hazard.” Anne kept her reply saucy, making it plain that she didn’t share his fear for her safety.

  “I do not want you to work on that article, Anne.”

  There was an urgent note in his voice and the muscle in his jaw constricted tautly.

  “Don’t spoil the day with an argument, Kai,” she pleaded. “I’m as committed to my work as you are to yours. Nothing you say will change my mind about finishing this assignment. If there’s danger in doing it,” she shrugged, “so be it.”

  There was a brief but uncomfortable silence between them as Anne met his eyes defiantly. Kai poured himself more wine and gazed distractedly into the distance. Anne wished he would look at her or say something to break the tension.

  “What do you like to do when you’re not working?” she finally asked. “You’ve told me about your music and I really would like to hear you play sometime.”

  It was a stiff attempt at conversation and she desperately hoped it would take his mind off his anger. When Kai failed to answer immediately Anne feared the worst. He was angry and would probably suggest taking her home.

  “Cooking is one hobby that I enjoy.” Kai had obviously realized the futility of a verbal battle, much to Anne’s relief. “In fact, I plan to experiment this evening with something new for dinner. Chen will be away until Monday, so your presence entitles you to the position of chef’s assistant.”

  “Chances are that you know more about cooking and kitchens than I do.” Anne laughed wryly. “With my schedule I usually eat out or skip meals altogether.”

  “All you have to do is follow my instructions,” he assured her.

  “Yes, Sir!” Anne jumped to her feet and saluted mockingly. “Anything you say, Sir.”

  “We do have a bit of a problem, though.” Kai stood, towering over her. His penetrating gaze burned into her wide-eyed, questioning one. Provocative fingers explored the sensitive swell of her breast through the thin silk of her dress. Anne’s heart thudded erratically under the light caress. “At the moment my appetite craves the sensual flavor of your body.”

  An aching need blazed through her. Anne’s lips parted under his searing kiss and she shivered with desire when his tongue traced the trembling outline of her mouth. Kai picked her up and carried her with unhurried ease across the terrace and into the house.

  The afternoon sun cast warm beams of light through the leaded glass windows of his bedroom. Anne saw nothing but those black eyes boring into hers. Gentle hands pulled the straps of her sundress from her satin shoulders. Burning lips nibbled the hollow of her throat and she arched against the throbbing pressure of his muscles.

  “My Lotus woman.” Kai breathed soft words into her ear as her dress slipped to the floor.

  He was naked to the waist, and his golden skin felt cool against her alabaster breasts. Anne was engulfed in the glowing sensuality of the moment—all thoughts and feelings focused on Kai. His fingers tangled in her hair and
his mouth descended on hers. A strange languor devoured her as adept hands lightly spanned her slender waist, then moved lower to mold her willowy hips to his hard length.

  “Kai,” she moaned, a ragged catch in her voice.

  Totally naked now, they stretched side by side on the silk sheet covering his rosewood bed, their lips meeting, their tongues mating in a slow, stimulating rhythm.

  “All I want is this moment—nothing else seems to matter anymore.” Anne shuddered her surrender to his intoxicating kisses.

  “You’re right to want only this moment.” His fathomless ebony eyes searched her platinum ones and found the answers he was seeking. “The here and now is all that matters.”

  Kai bent his dark head and his mouth opened over the ripe fullness of her breast. The length of his muscular back gleamed like topaz in the sunlight and she massaged the sinewy cords of his muscles with feathery strokes of her fingertips. When his searching mouth moved lower and his hand glided along her inner thigh a moan of ecstasy escaped her throat. The fiery imprint of his kisses blazed across the valley of her desire and she was lost in the mindless frenzy of primitive passions.

  Kai raised his head and saw her dewy-eyed expression. He moved to lie beside her in one fluid motion, then cradled her face in his hands. “The Daughters of the Earth—in one woman.”

  “Who are the Daughters of the Earth?” Anne’s breathless question was barely audible.

  He kissed her, tracing her lips with the tip of his tongue. “We will talk about them . . . later.” Kai rolled onto his back and lifted her over him. Strong hands fitted her pliant body onto his powerful one, and she rose and fell as they moved in passionate harmony. Amber fused with ivory, feeding the volcano that was building inside her. Aflame from head to toe, Anne was lost in the inferno of desire.

  In one continuous motion they shifted positions so that Anne lay beneath Kai on the smooth silk sheet. “Kai!” She cried out as he welded her to him and she enveloped him with a ravenous hunger. A glowing tempest of sensations exploded inside her as the storm of their lovemaking intensified to a tumultuous crescendo.