Her Unexpected Affair (The Robinsons) (22 page)

She’d never thought of herself as that kind of woman. One who could make love with one while thinking of another. This was wrong. She forced her hands back down to his shoulders and pushed. It was like pushing against an immoveable wall.

“Shan,” she said, not expecting her voice to betray her too. It had come out far too soft, too much like a whimper of need, not shame.

“I’m here,
ai ren
.” His mouth closed on her skin, just above her collarbone, sucking, licking.

Great, now he was calling her beloved in Chinese. “Shan.” Much stronger that time. “Don’t.”

“I won’t stop, baby. I promise. I’m yours to have anytime you want.” The heated words brushed over her skin as her head tilted sideways, sending entirely the wrong message.

She tried again. “No.” Once more she pushed at his shoulders, their bodies too close for her to press against his chest. “Stop.”

Shan grew still, his breath sawing in and out, sending warm breezes over the newly dampened skin, raising goose bumps. “What?”

“Stop. Please.”

A new tension tightened his arm at her back and the hand now covering her breast. “Why? I thought…”

Desperately she searched for a reason that wouldn’t piss him off. Something like
I don’t really want you. I was thinking of someone taller and blond
. “Too fast.” Did her voice have to sound so wispy? So breathy?

It took him some effort, obviously he didn’t want to submit to her demand, but slowly the tension eased from his body. His hold gentled. A sigh ghosted over her face as he raised his head, eyes heavy with a desire so strong it nearly weakened her knees. The hand holding her breast slipped away with one last fleeting brush of his thumb over her traitorous nipple before slipping down her side to her waist.

Much safer. The breath she’d been holding escaped as a sigh. Instead of stepping back, Shan pulled her into a hug, his other hand rising to cup her head and hold it against his shoulder. Both of them fought to control their breathing.

“Right.” The word disturbed the hair at her temple and the shudder that wracked his body took the last of the passionate tension from his body as a new tension replaced it. “Too fast. You’re right. But you can hardly blame me. The way you responded, damn, Meilin. You’re driving me wild. It’s going to be so good between us.”

Weak with relief—he could have so easily pressed the issue, ignored her words—she accepted his hug, resting her head against him. Without agreeing with him, she hummed a little. Just enough to let him know she’d heard him.

“I guess I’d better go. My self control isn’t very strong.” Shan kissed the top of her head. “Dinner tomorrow night.” It wasn’t a question. It was a confirmation of a commitment.

“Yes. I’ll be ready by six thirty. Do you want me to meet you there?” His hand relaxed enough she could lift her head.

“I’ll pick you up. I’ll call when I’m outside if I can’t get a miracle parking spot like tonight.” He kissed her lightly, a mere pressing of his lips to hers. “I can hardly wait for this weekend.”

“Mmmm.” She let her hum give a noncommittal response. One he interpreted as agreement if the heat in his eyes was anything to go by.

“Wear something tasteful but sexy tomorrow. I want to show you off.” He gave her another soft kiss, then stepped back, letting her go and opening the door. “I want the world to know you’re mine now.”

The smile she forced on her lips was weak. Only the role she’d chosen to play kept her at the door, watching him stride toward the stairs where he looked over his shoulder at her before heading down.

Too tired to slam the door, she closed it quietly to keep from disturbing her neighbors. Now Shan thought she was falling in love with him. However, it wasn’t his dark eyes she saw as she leaned against the door. It was a sea of blue that filled her vision, and she had no idea what to do about it.

She was so in trouble.

Drew stared at the door of the cafeteria. Over the past week the lessons had been a bit clearer, but no less difficult. It had been harder to concentrate not knowing for sure whether he’d see Meilin again anytime soon. Then this afternoon his teacher had mentioned she was coming tonight. The whole class had perked up at that. Not that they didn’t like Professor Chung, but Meilin had provided a different touch. One they all responded to. And in the back of his mind he’d kept wondering if she’d get to see the homework she’d assigned. Five sentences.

Once they’d matched the characters to the words, the whole class had laughed. Love. Heart. Family. Cat. House. It had been hard forming short sentences that didn’t give him away. Things along the lines of,
My heart wants to form a family with you in a house of love with a cat
. Although he’d prefer a dog. Then again, he didn’t really care if it meant spending time with her. A pet wouldn’t matter in the least.

All week the catering staff had spent one day on a menu pertaining to each culture in the school. Monday had been Chinese. Tonight was Italian. He’d liked German night, and Russian hadn’t been bad. Indian night had been a little bland, the curry not up to the spiciness he was used to. So far Italian was pretty typical with spaghetti and garlic bread with a green salad. He was looking forward to the dessert table where it looked as if they’d tried to make tiramisu. Gelato would have been better, but the summer heat seemed to defy the attempts to serve such a large number. Rumor had it tomorrow was Japanese day.

He could only hope Meilin would show up in time for dessert.

“Hey, what’s with you?” One of his classmates nudged his shoulder, bringing his attention back to the group. “You’ve been dancing in your chair like you’ve got ants in your pants.”

Drew snorted and swirled his fork in the long strands of pasta smothered in red sauce. “Just been a long week,” he told Bob, a thirty-something exec from New York who was headed to China to take over IT operations for his company.

“Only two down. Eight to go. No point in getting stressed out this early in the game.”

“Just looking forward to a little time with the family.” Dad and Mum were only in California for another week before heading back to London. He’d talked with them every few days, had taken a walk over to his apartment last night to hang out with Birdie for an hour, so he’d had some breaks. No way was he confessing his desire to see Meilin. Birdie had taken off this afternoon to go home for the weekend. That meant their apartment was empty. Was it possible to convince Meilin to go there with him tonight? He wanted as many stolen hours of privacy with her as he could get.

Yeah, and he was a bastard for wanting to distract her from her engagement. A right rotten sod. The irony didn’t escape him that he’d be pissed as hell if he were engaged to her and another man was trying to make off with her. In this case, he was the outsider, the other man, the one trying to cuckold another. Wrong in every way except how much he wanted her.

Yeah, he was as dishonorable as a highwayman. He nearly laughed at the vision of himself dressed in boots, breeches, full sleeved shirt, long coat, mask, and tricorn hat, riding up on his black charger to rob the coach of the well-dressed lady inside. She’d be wearing voluminous skirts that would billow out as he plunked her down on his horse and rode off into the night with her captured in his arms. Guess he’d read
The Beggar’s Opera
too many times. He was as bad as his sister, who loved the historical romances where some masked man swept the beautiful heiress off to a life of decadence and debauchery, only to find himself tamed by the lady and reformed to living a life of decency with wicked depravity confined to the four walls of their Mayfair bed chamber.

Oh he was a gentleman all right. A large drop of spaghetti sauce dripped from his pasta and made a splodge on his light blue polo shirt. Yeah. A right proper gent.

“Oh dear.” A small hand reached over his shoulder to the center of the table and grabbed a wad of paper napkins.

Damn. Meilin. It just figured she’d show up the second he made a spectacle of himself.

He dropped his fork and accepted the napkins while she greeted each student. She took the open chair to his right, and he could feel her scent going directly to his brain.

“You have another spot,” she said.

He shot her a sideways glance and caught her smile. At least she wasn’t full out laughing. Trust him to lose his cool and make an idiot out of himself in front of her. Hadn’t happened since he was six and got caught throwing cake at a neighbor’s granddaughter during a tea party turned tiny food fight. The humiliation suffered that day had taught him to be very, very careful in social situations. He’d worked very hard to evolve into the suave and sophisticated man his mother had expected him to be. Although he hadn’t liked her methods, more than once he’d reluctantly acknowledged the value of her lessons. California’s relaxed ways must be rubbing off for him to let down his guard enough to make a splash of red sauce all over his shirt.

He dunked one of the napkins in his water glass and set about trying to sop up the stain. Stains. Hell, he’d be better off just buying a new shirt.

“Give it to me before I leave tonight. I’ll get the stains out,” she murmured, then turned her head away to answer a question from one of the female students a few seats around the table.

She’d clean his shirt? Still scrubbing, he gave her another glance and imagined towing her up to his room and stripping off the shirt there. Would she notice the thousands of crunches he’d done when he couldn’t make it to the gym? The tan he’d cultivated since arriving in this warm climate? With a flash of heat, he remembered her half-lidded eyes as she took in his shirtless torso once he’d changed into swim togs at the party week before last. Shifting as something else started to take note of her presence and his fantasies, he tried to blot up the excess of water now soaking two parts of his shirt. Damn, that was cold against his skin.

Janice from across the table loaded her dishes onto a tray. “Anyone else ready for coffee and dessert?”

To Drew’s left, Bob stood. “I’ll help you. How many want dessert?”

Every hand rose. Even Cindy, their resident teenager at barely nineteen.

“Coffee?” Janice asked.

No one put their hands down. “Right. I’ll bring back cream and sugar.”

“Don’t forget the forks and spoons,” Dave called after them.

Cindy rolled her eyes. “Come on, big guy, the least we can do is clear the decks.” She started stacking plates on her tray while Dave groaned. But he moved and started collecting trays and utensils. In a minute the table was clear, leaving Drew alone with Chung and Meilin.

“So,” he ventured. “Did Teach over there pass on our homework to you?”

Meilin grinned. “He did. You all did a very good job. Did it take long?”

“Only two nights,” Drew said with a groan. “We did learn how to use the Chinese to English dictionary going both directions.”

Two seats to Drew’s left the professor chuckled and drained his water glass. “I’m not sure I want to know what prompted those particular characters, but I must say you were all very creative. Especially you, Mr. Robinson. Makes one wonder at the type of upbringing you had over there in Merry Old England.”

“Oh, it was very typical of an over-privileged Sussex youth. Loaded with tales of knights and their heroic acts, highway robbers and heiresses, lords and ladies of the court. My father once told me Winnie the Pooh had come through our woods hunting for honey. The search for the bear and the bee hive filled the better part of one summer.” Until his mother had caught on and told him no such thing could ever happen. Odd, now that he thought about it, his father had been the one to read the better bedtime stories. The nannies had kept a wide selection on hand, and Dad had picked the most adventurous of the lot.

“I’m more curious about your upbringing.” Drew split his glance between the two. “You both spent time in China. What was it like?”

“You’ll find out when we get there in a few weeks.” Professor Chung waved a hand. “As American born, we were never fully recognized for our Chinese heritage. We’re still Americans to them, wouldn’t you agree, Meilin?”

She nodded. “I do agree. Even being raised bilingual didn’t help so much. I was better at listening, not so good at speaking. The Aunties and Uncles constantly reminded me, but at the end of two years they professed to be sad to see me go. They said I was almost like a Chinese.” The two of them laughed.

“Pretty much the same for me, but I was much younger when I went to live with relatives. I hated that my parents sent me away, but living in a smaller town really perfected my language ability.”

“Now people in Chinatown think he was Chinese born.” Meilin teased him with a twinkle in her eyes. “How did the week go?” she asked Drew.

“Pretty well. I’m still not sure I’ll ever really get the hang of it, but I’m recognizing a little more. Pronunciations are killing me.”

Professor Chung laughed. “The English accent might be hindering you a bit, but as you speak with the accent of the upper social class, it’s not as bad as if you’d been raised speaking Cockney or Welsh.”

“Or Aussie,” Meilin added.

“That darn Eton, paying off again,” Drew joked.

“What’s the joke?” Dave asked over their chuckles as he approached with a tray containing a few coffee mugs, sugar, and cream. Bob followed him with another loaded tray of mugs and a carafe. The ladies followed with trays holding plates of dessert.

“Oh,” Meilin said. “It all looks delicious. Glad I didn’t have dessert tonight.”

“Did you get dinner?” Drew asked.

“Drive-through. Egg rolls, crab rangoon, fried shrimp, and barbeque pork with a steam bun.”

“Didn’t know you could get anything other than burgers or tacos from a drive-through,” Chung said.

“New place. Not bad. A little dried out, but easier to eat than noodles while driving.”

Next time he went out clubbing, Drew decided, he’d try it out.

“Field trip,” Janice said.

Coffee and dessert were passed around, and the professor led them back into speaking simple Chinese.