Reviews ...
"Very sexy, with interesting
cultural details...also has a suspense subplot that never gets
in the way." 4 Stars.
-Romantic Times Book Reviews
Australia /New Zealand edition
March 2007
Excerpt
...
Lost in her thoughts, she bounced off a blue wall. The wall turned
and she saw one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen.
No, she corrected herself, not handsome, exactly, but compelling.
Magnetic. He had wavy hair with streaks of blond, brown, and red
all tumbled together, kind of like an old color photo of JFK.
His eyes were bright blue with tiny glints of gold, set in sharply
angled, tanned cheekbones.
“I’m sorry.” His deep voice buzzed across her
already jangling nerve endings. She stared at him. He mistook
her silence for incomprehension and repeated his apology in careful
Cantonese.
“Oh. I’m Japanese, not Chinese.” It was nice
of him to try, though. How many men apologized in one language,
much less two?
“Sorry. I only know a few phrases in Japanese. But one
I do know is ‘Hajimemashite’.”
Meg tried not to cringe at his accent. “That means ‘I’m
pleased to meet you.’”
“Exactly.” He gave her a white smile, revealing a
dimple in one tan cheek. “And I hope you’d say you
were pleased to meet me too.”
Meg raised her eyebrows. He certainly was fast on his feet. She
wondered if he was fast off his feet as well. “I might be
pleased to meet you if I knew whom I was meeting.”
He extended his hand. “I’m Rick Sokol.” She
took his hand. Rick’s grip was gentle but enveloped her
smaller one. His right wrist was banded by a gold watch that was
expensive, but not ostentatious. She wondered if he was a lefty.
He released her hand and she fought a peculiar sense of loss.
“What’s your name?”
“My Japanese name is Michiko.” Where did that come
from? She almost never introduced herself to Americans as “Michiko”,
but she didn’t correct herself.
“Mitchy-coe,” he repeated, mangling the pronunciation.
Meg giggled, fighting the urge to cover her mouth like a good
Japanese girl. “No, that’s not how you say it. It’s
Mee-chee-ko.”
He tried again, getting closer. “Better?” He smiled
down at her and her stomach flipped.
She nodded, realizing she was in over her head. She tended to
attract either short guys who wanted to tower over her, or pale,
weedy types who had seen Memoirs of a Geisha twenty-seven times
and were fascinated by a Japanese girl with light eyes.
Tall, tanned, gorgeous men did not smile at her like this and
ask her a question, which she had totally missed. “Excuse
me?”
“I was asking if you’re here for a wedding?”
She glanced at her attire and was tempted to reply that no, she
always wore green satin dresses around hotel lobbies, like some
kinky bridesmaid hooker, but no good Japanese girl would even
think that, let alone say it. “Yes, my friend got married
this evening.”
“Mine, too.”
They both glanced at the ballroom and turned to each other. He
took a closer look at her, his blue gaze traveling from her face
to glide over her bare neck and shoulders. Her nipples tightened
and swelled against the snug satin bodice. His blue eyes brightened
to an almost cobalt shade, lingering on her breasts. She tottered
on her dyed-to-match sandals, a flood of lust washing over her.
Then he grinned. “I thought I recognized that dress. You’re
a bridesmaid.”
He’d been checking out the damned dress, not her. Well,
she could at least still be the exotic Michiko. “Yes, I
was the maid of honor. Are you a friend of the groom’s?”
“Oh, yeah, we met right after college and have been friends
ever since. I’m sorry I missed seeing you at the ceremony,
but my flight from Hong Kong was delayed. I just had time to toss
my things in my room upstairs and rush down to the reception.”
“Hong Kong? You are so lucky—I love Hong Kong.”
She smiled up at him, remembering days and days spent in the art
museum archives examining scraps of calligraphy.
“Have a drink with me and we’ll talk about Hong Kong.”
“A drink?” She froze mid-step and turned. Standing
on the fourth or fifth step, she was eye-level with him and the
view was even better.
Rick shrugged, his wide shoulders moving elegantly under the
well-tailored navy blazer. “To apologize for bumping into
you.”
How long had it been since she’d had a drink with a hot-looking
guy? Too depressing to calculate. “Yes, I’d like to
have a drink with you.”
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