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Authors: Eric Van Lustbader
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insufferably polite in their own homes can be so rude in public is beyond me.”
“I’ve told you, Justine, if a space doesn’t belong to any individual—like a public space—the Japanese feel there’s no need for politeness.’’
Justine was trembling and weeping all at once. “These people are nuts, Nick!” She turned on him. “If I’m going to be left alone with these madmen, at least I should have heard it from you.”
“I’m sorry.” She said nothing. “Justine, Seiko was only doing her job.”
“Then she’s too efficient by half.”
“How can you be angry with her for being efficient?” He looked at her carefully and was struck by how strange this house had become. It was like a suit you had liked in the store but didn’t in the clear light of day. “This isn’t about Seiko calling you, is it?”
She turned away, her palms flat against the counter, her arms like rigid poles. Her long dark hair was disheveled, her body almost painfully thin. “No,” she said in a strangled voice, “but it is about Seiko.”
He saw the extreme tension in the hunch of her shoulders, the way she stood spread-legged. She had unconsciously assumed the stance of a street fighter spoiling for a confrontation.
Nicholas was about to say something, then thought better of it, intuiting that she would use anything he said now as further provocation.
Justine turned, her face dark with anger that had been pent-up too long. “Are you having an affair with Seiko?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Tell me the truth, damnit! Anything will be better than this hell of suspicion.”
He took a step toward her. “Justine, Seiko is my assistant, period.”
“Is that the whole truth? You’d better search your soul before you answer.”
“Why would you doubt me?” Her stricken face hung before him and his heart broke. “Justine…”
“You’ve spent so much time with her.”
“It was necessary.”
Her shoulders shook. “Taking her to Saigon—”
“She knows Vietnam far better than either Nangi or I. I couldn’t have completed my business in Saigon without her.” He went to her, took her in his arms.
“Oh, Christ, Nick, I’m sorry. I don’t know…”
At his touch all the tension went out of her, and a heat flowed through her to him. His lips came down over hers and her mouth was already open, her tongue hungrily entwined with his. Her heat suffused him, warming a body whose bones, it seemed, had indeed grown cold in the bitterness of her accusations.
It had been unfair of her to suspect him, he knew, even as he was uncomfortably aware that it was unfair of him to continue to imprison her here in a land she despised and could never understand.
He opened her shirt, held her breasts in his hands as the nipples grew taut and hot. Her mouth would not relinquish its hold on him, and he thrust his hands down farther, unfastening the Western belt, dragging her jeans off her thighs.
He was so hard he pushed up against her urgently, but she shoved him back with surprising strength, slipping to her knees before him. She undressed him with sure knowledge.
“Justine—”
Her hand encircled the base of him while her hot mouth slipped over the tip. He tried to pull her up and away, but she resisted him. He did not want this now, to see her submissive, so terrified of losing him that she would do anything to keep him hers. He wanted only to lose himself inside her, to block out all else, in their intimate twining to remove her doubt about him and their life together. But, in the end, her busy tongue and lips obliterated his resolve, and he dug his fingers into her thick hair, feeling her head move back and forth.
At last, he found the strength to drag her away from him. He picked her up as if she were a child, and her thighs came around him. He could taste the sex in her mouth as it came down over his. He found her open and waiting, and with a deep groan, she impaled herself on him to the hilt. She was
“I’ve told you, Justine, if a space doesn’t belong to any individual—like a public space—the Japanese feel there’s no need for politeness.’’
Justine was trembling and weeping all at once. “These people are nuts, Nick!” She turned on him. “If I’m going to be left alone with these madmen, at least I should have heard it from you.”
“I’m sorry.” She said nothing. “Justine, Seiko was only doing her job.”
“Then she’s too efficient by half.”
“How can you be angry with her for being efficient?” He looked at her carefully and was struck by how strange this house had become. It was like a suit you had liked in the store but didn’t in the clear light of day. “This isn’t about Seiko calling you, is it?”
She turned away, her palms flat against the counter, her arms like rigid poles. Her long dark hair was disheveled, her body almost painfully thin. “No,” she said in a strangled voice, “but it is about Seiko.”
He saw the extreme tension in the hunch of her shoulders, the way she stood spread-legged. She had unconsciously assumed the stance of a street fighter spoiling for a confrontation.
Nicholas was about to say something, then thought better of it, intuiting that she would use anything he said now as further provocation.
Justine turned, her face dark with anger that had been pent-up too long. “Are you having an affair with Seiko?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Tell me the truth, damnit! Anything will be better than this hell of suspicion.”
He took a step toward her. “Justine, Seiko is my assistant, period.”
“Is that the whole truth? You’d better search your soul before you answer.”
“Why would you doubt me?” Her stricken face hung before him and his heart broke. “Justine…”
“You’ve spent so much time with her.”
“It was necessary.”
Her shoulders shook. “Taking her to Saigon—”
“She knows Vietnam far better than either Nangi or I. I couldn’t have completed my business in Saigon without her.” He went to her, took her in his arms.
“Oh, Christ, Nick, I’m sorry. I don’t know…”
At his touch all the tension went out of her, and a heat flowed through her to him. His lips came down over hers and her mouth was already open, her tongue hungrily entwined with his. Her heat suffused him, warming a body whose bones, it seemed, had indeed grown cold in the bitterness of her accusations.
It had been unfair of her to suspect him, he knew, even as he was uncomfortably aware that it was unfair of him to continue to imprison her here in a land she despised and could never understand.
He opened her shirt, held her breasts in his hands as the nipples grew taut and hot. Her mouth would not relinquish its hold on him, and he thrust his hands down farther, unfastening the Western belt, dragging her jeans off her thighs.
He was so hard he pushed up against her urgently, but she shoved him back with surprising strength, slipping to her knees before him. She undressed him with sure knowledge.
“Justine—”
Her hand encircled the base of him while her hot mouth slipped over the tip. He tried to pull her up and away, but she resisted him. He did not want this now, to see her submissive, so terrified of losing him that she would do anything to keep him hers. He wanted only to lose himself inside her, to block out all else, in their intimate twining to remove her doubt about him and their life together. But, in the end, her busy tongue and lips obliterated his resolve, and he dug his fingers into her thick hair, feeling her head move back and forth.
At last, he found the strength to drag her away from him. He picked her up as if she were a child, and her thighs came around him. He could taste the sex in her mouth as it came down over his. He found her open and waiting, and with a deep groan, she impaled herself on him to the hilt. She was
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