The International Kissing Club (23 page)

“Paris is a great place.”

He sounded so wistful she couldn’t help asking, “You don’t like China?”

“It’s not that. It’s just there are a lot of bad memories here. For my parents, I mean. It makes my mom sad to be back.”

“Why?”

His eyes were startled—and a little wary—when they looked into her own. “Are you always this forward?”

“No.” She paused, a little self-conscious as she realized she was
lying. “Yes, I guess I am. I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want—”

“Well, you tell me. You’re a Chinese girl from America and your last name is Jones. You were adopted, right?”

“Yes.”

“A lot of Chinese girls are.”

That’s when it dawned on her—he might know more about her plight than she’d ever expected. She’d always focused on being the abandoned; she’d never thought about what it would feel like to be the one they kept.

“Do you know what happened to her, your sister?” she asked.

“No. My parents never said. But I assume she was adopted by Americans.”

“Like me,” Mei said quietly. “That’s why I came to China, to Shenyang, to find out about my birth parents. But now … I don’t know. Everything here is so overwhelming and I can’t figure out where to start, not to mention I can barely understand anyone or read anything. So maybe I came here for nothing.”

Could she get any more dramatic? A couple more minutes of this and she’d morph into Piper. But it felt so good to say it all out loud, to verbalize the fear and frustration she’d been having for weeks now. She took a really deep breath, filling her lungs. It seemed like she hadn’t been able to do that in weeks.

Guiran still hadn’t said a word, however, and he’d stopped eating altogether. Mei pushed around the last of the food on her plate with her chopsticks—another source of embarrassment for her. She felt like the only person here who longed for a fork.

Guiran’s nonresponse to her babbling made her even more self-conscious, and she worried she’d upset him.

Finally she asked, “Guiran? Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” he said, tossing his head back to move the lock of dark hair that had fallen across one eye. “You know, I’ve wondered
sometimes if my sister has ever come looking for us. If she thinks about my parents, and why they gave her up.” Sadness crept into his dark eyes again.

“I think all adoptees wonder about that at some point. But, at least for me, I’ve never been angry about it—I know my birth parents did what they felt they had to do.” She’d worked hard to bury any resentment she felt at being given up.

“I have wonderful loving parents, and I have a good life with them. I’m sure your sister does, too, Guiran.” She gave him a reassuring smile. After a moment, the corners of his mouth turned into a lopsided grin. Her stomach jumped a little and she hoped it was from his smile, and not a reaction to what she’d just eaten.

Then again, how dreadfully inconvenient. Here she’d planned to ignore all the IKC stuff. And now, for the first time since John, there was a guy she might want to kiss. On the other hand, for a girl who had been hoping not to become a leper thirty minutes before, she was getting a little ahead of herself.

“Okay,” Guiran said. “I’ll help you.”

“Help me what?” she asked, baffled.

“I’ll help you find your parents. If you have the information, I’ll do the translating and go with you to the SWI.”

“Really?” she asked, unsure what to make of his offer. “You would come with me?”

He shrugged. “Sure. It’s the least I can do to make up for running you over.”

“Thank you, Guiran.” Mei smiled. Suddenly, China didn’t seem so lonely.

“No problem. But, hey, before this goes any further, I have to ask. You don’t think there’s any chance we’re related, do you?”

Maybe she wasn’t the only one thinking about kissing. “How old are you?”

“I’m eighteen,” he answered.
Oh, thank God
. He was older than she was—there was no way she could be his sister.

“Good. No chance we’re related.” The sister his parents had given away would have to have been born before him.

As they got up to leave the table, she crossed off the first item on her mental to-do list and added a second. She’d found a friend. Now it was time to find her family.

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Chapter 13
Piper

Piper stumbled down the hallway in her pajamas, drawn to the kitchen by the amazing aroma of Marie’s special blend of coffee. Her mouth was actually watering for the rich, dark liquid, her brain screaming for the shot of caffeine it so desperately needed.

God, when am I going to get used to the late hours Simone keeps?
she wondered as she turned the corner into the kitchen. Not that she was complaining. She loved every second of living and going to school in Paris, so much so that lately she’d been thinking of what a great university the Sorbonne was. But that didn’t make getting in at three a.m. after a long day of school any easier to bear—especially when L’Académie de Paris started at seven thirty in the morning.

But today was special. She’d been planning it for years, ever since she first became interested in art, and she wasn’t going to blow it by waking up too late to do everything that was on her list.

Thinking about the day she had planned, she was on autopilot as she cruised over to the very stylish coffeepot Marie had in the middle of the counter—and the ambrosia of the gods that was currently percolating away inside it. When she left here in seven weeks, she was taking an entire carry-on full of the stuff back home. And then she was going to ration it—only bring the coffee beans out on the most special of occasions. Because going the rest of her life without it just didn’t bear thinking about—and she
so
wasn’t sharing with her family.

She had just poured herself a cup, and brought it to her nose for a long, ecstasy-inducing sniff, when she heard someone else enter the kitchen. Figuring it was Marie or Simone’s dad, Gus, she turned with a quick smile, then froze as she took in the tall, dark, and absolutely gorgeous specimen of manhood staring at her, an overnight bag on his shoulder.

He was tall, really tall, and she wasn’t just saying that because she was in her bare feet. This guy would tower over her even in the very chic, very sexy five-inch-heeled boots she had spent way too much money on while shopping with Simone the other day. He was also really muscular, unlike most of the guys she’d met here, a lot of whom would give a string bean a run for its money. His shoulders were wide, his chest broad, his biceps well-defined where they strained against the dark cotton of his T-shirt.

“You must be Piper.” His voice wrapped itself around her like a river of dark, warm caramel.

“I am.” She smiled at him and tried to remember if she had washed her makeup off before falling into bed a few hours before. “And you are … ?”

“Sebastian.”

Oh, right, of course. Simone’s absent brother. She could see the resemblance now—he had the same sapphire-blue eyes and ebony hair, but his was styled in a short, suave cut that emphasized his strong jaw, lush lips, and slightly scruffy day-old beard. For a second her fingers itched to sketch him, so much so that she shoved her hands into the pockets of her sweats to make sure she didn’t grab the closest napkin and give in to the impulse.

Her strange reaction bothered her, especially considering how perfect he seemed. Not just how he looked, but in the way Simone and his parents all but worshiped him. If she’d learned anything from Germaine it was that anyone who looked and sounded that good probably wasn’t. Too bad the lesson didn’t stop her heart from thudding painfully in her chest.

“Right.” She forced herself to smile. “Marie said something about you making it home this weekend.”

Sebastian nodded before leaning against the counter, ankles crossed in a pose so indolent, so self-assured, that she couldn’t help thinking he looked like a movie star—more than aware of his impact on the female half of the species, but determined to act as normal as possible under the circumstances.

“I’ve got midterms next week and it’s easier to study at home than in the dorm.” His voice was a little bored but the look in his indigo eyes was intense.

“I bet.” She took a sip of her coffee, searched for something to say even though she wanted nothing more than to flee back to her room and away from those eyes that seemed to catalogue everything about her. “What classes are you taking?”

“Basic first-year stuff, except I did manage to squeeze in a class on art history and one on sculpting.”

“Really? Who are you studying?”

He sighed, a long, drawn-out exhale that somehow managed to sound both condescending and annoyed. And French, so French. It shot the small niggles of unwelcome interest she’d been feeling right into annoyance, and Piper nearly called him on his boorish behavior. But she had been raised in the South, and annoyance—no matter how well deserved—was no excuse for rudeness.

Still, she couldn’t just stand here and gape at him like an idiot. She was struggling to come up with a reason to excuse herself when Marie breezed in. “Piper, you’re up early! I thought surely you’d sleep until noon after the night you and Simone had.”