‘My father’s a history professor with a particular interest in dynasty ceramics and I hung out in his workshop when I was a kid, read all his books.’ It had been the crazy-cracks in the glazes that had first captured her interest. The rich history behind each of the pieces had held it.
‘So you’re following in your father’s footsteps. He must be proud of you.’
‘No, mostly my father ignores me. I learn anyway. I can spot a fake dynasty vase at fifty paces. In fact I’m absolutely certain the Ming in the Museum of London’s a fake.’
He stared.
‘All right, ninety percent certain.’
‘So why aren’t you finishing your diploma?’
‘I will be. Just as soon as I earn enough money for my last two semesters.’
‘By selling shoes?’
‘It’s a job, isn’t it?’ she said defensively. ‘Interesting, well paid jobs are hard to come by when you’re a student. Employers know you’re just filling a gap.’
‘Couldn’t you ask your family to help out?’
‘No.’ Her voice was cool; he’d touched a nerve. Her brothers would have lent her the money. Hell, they’d wanted to give her the money and so had her father for that matter, but she’d refused them all. Little Miss Independent, and it galled her that they hadn’t understood why she’d refused. None of her brothers had taken money from anyone when they’d started out. She was staying with Tris because there was more than enough room for her in his home and because London rentals were outrageously expensive. That was all the help she was prepared to accept.
No, money for nothing wasn’t her style at all. But ten thousand pounds for a week’s work … a week’s fairly unorthodox and demanding work … Well now, that was a different matter altogether.
‘How much do you need to complete your studies?’ he asked curiously.
‘Ten thousand pounds plus money to live on. But I’ve already saved five so with your ten thousand I figure I’ve got it covered.’
‘And then what?’ he said. ‘Then will you roam the world in search of ancient artefacts and long lost oriental treasure?’
‘Yeah, just like Lara Croft and Indiana Jones,’ she said, heavy on the sarcasm. ‘You know, maybe you need to get out more. You might just be spending too much time in fantasy land.’
‘See? I knew it wouldn’t take long before you started sounding like a real wife,’ he countered with a grin. ‘Don’t you want to be a Tomb Raider?’
Sure she did. She just didn’t think it very likely. And as for sounding like a nagging wife … Hah! Wait till she really put her mind to it. ‘Right now I’m thinking I want to be Xia here because she’s really good at this alien butt-kicking business, isn’t she? What does she get if she wins?’
‘Points.’
‘Points as in money? Does she get to shop afterwards?’
‘Only for a new weapon.’
‘What, no plastic surgery? Because I really think a breast reduction is a must here.’
‘Our target demographic is teenage boys.’
‘I’d never have guessed.’
‘Besides, there’s nothing wrong with her breasts; those are excellent breasts. Fantasy breasts.’
Hallie sighed.
‘Not that yours aren’t very nice too,’ Nick added politely.
‘Mine are real,’ she said dryly, slanting him a sideways glance. ‘Completely real. Just in case anyone should ask.’
‘I’m very impressed.’ His eyes were blue, very blue, and his smile was pure pirate. ‘Because they look to be in excellent shape. I should probably take a closer look; acquire a real feel for them so to speak. I’m not a fact-file person either.’
‘Is your distributor’s daughter watching?’ she countered smoothly, even as her breasts tingled and her nipples tightened at the thought of him touching her. ‘Are we in a public place?’
‘Sadly, no.’ And through eyes half closed, his attention back on the screen, ‘Man I love kinky women.’
Oh, boy. ‘So what’s in this game for us girls?’ she said hastily. ‘Other than this very cool vibrating controller.’
‘Shang.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Shang. Paladin princeling.’
Nick flicked back to the main menu and a male figure appeared on the screen. He had dark, carelessly cut hair, an exotic face, a tough lean bod, and was no slouch in the ammunition department either. ‘Is that a gun in his pocket or is he just glad to see me?’
Now it was Nick’s turn to sigh. ‘You’re not taking this seriously.’
‘It’s a game, Nick. I’m not meant to.’
‘You’re right, you’re not. My mistake. I’m the one who has to take it seriously. My people have spent three years developing this platform, Hallie, and now it’s up to me to market it. I can’t afford to make mistakes. Not with John Tey, not with his daughter. That’s where you come in.’
‘Call me naive when it comes to big business but I think lying to a potential business partner about your marital status is a mistake,’ Hallie felt obliged to point out.
‘You sound like my conscience,’ he muttered. ‘If you have a plan C let’s hear it.’
‘Ah, well, I don’t currently have a plan C.’
‘Pity.’
He looked tired, sounded wistful. As if having to deceive John Tey really didn’t sit well with him. Sympathy washed over her and all of a sudden she wanted to slide on over to his recliner and comfort him. Weave her hands through that dark, tousled hair, touch her mouth to his and feel the passion slide through her and the heat start to build as she feasted on that clever, knowing mouth and – Whoa! Stop right there. Because that wasn’t sympathy.
That was lust.
‘What?’ He was looking at her strangely.
‘Indigestion,’ she said. ‘I think it was something I ate. Probably the clams.’
‘Probably the situation,’ he said. ‘What’s it to be Hallie? Are you in or out?’
Hallie hesitated, tempted to say yes. Not for the adventure, the excitement, or the money but so that she could spend more time with Nick. The same Nick who was prepared to pay her ten thousand pounds so that at the end of the charade she’d leave.
A sensible woman would refuse him now and save herself the heartbreak, the genuine heartbreak, that was bound to come if a woman was careless enough to fall for him. A smart woman would sigh over that Hermès handbag, maybe even spend a minute or two imagining what it would look like on her arm, but in the end she’d turn away. That was what she should do.
What she said was, ‘Do you believe in destiny, Nick? Do you believe in fate?’
‘Only as a last resort. Why?’
‘I think we should let the game decide. Xia and Shang against the Martians. If we win we go to Hong Kong as man and wife. If we lose, you throw yourself on the tender mercies of Mr Tey and spill your guts.’
‘You’re serious, aren’t you?’
She was.
‘Deal,’ he said, and the fighting began.
Two murderous