THE NEXT MORNING, Sasha woke up before Juliana, and she tried her best to keep quiet as she went about preparing for the coming day.
It had been an enjoyable night in the Roppongi District, where they’d talked more about Tristan over dinner at a jazzy French restaurant, which Sasha had been overjoyed to find in the middle of Japan. Then jet lag had caught up, and they’d forsaken any research in the sexy bars and clubs Sasha had meant to visit in favor of turning in early at the hotel, thinking they’d make up for it today and tonight.
Or maybe she was avoiding it, which she could hardly afford to do. Not for the first time, she wondered if she’d bitten off more than she could chew with this topic, and if it could be that she was afraid to face it.
At any rate, Sasha thought, while securing her hair in its ponytail, she had the luxury of staying in Japan longer than Juliana, so there was no rush. Maybe she would even hire a private guide after her friend went home and Sasha had felt her way around the city a bit more.
By the time Juliana rolled out of bed, Sasha had already prepared the tea provided by the hotel and was surfing the Internet for some of those love hotels her friend had talked about. She meant to explore those in the book, but now she was extra curious.
Yet while she searched, a keen wistfulness invaded her.
Love hotels weren’t for single people….
She brushed the thought aside, wondering instead if she could check into love-hotel rooms by herself, or if she should bring Juliana. But if she did that, would they have to go somewhere that accepted same-sex couples, since that’s how it would look with her friend along?
Needing a stretch, she stood, then opened the curtains to a rain-splattered view of Shinjuku Gyoen Park. Late last night, the weather had turned, bringing gray skies with it.
Gray skies. Lonely.
Face it, Sasha thought. Chad’s in town and you wish you were with him right now.
That’s the reason she wasn’t talking about it to Juliana: because she just might break down if she told her friend how badly she’d wanted to encourage Chad back at Atami Castle. How hard it’d been to stick to her guns and leave him behind while she moved forward.
So why did it feel as though she was marking time in the same place?
Juliana finished getting ready, choosing to wear pants with a sleeveless, collared linen top. Sasha’s clothing was similar, right down to the light raincoat she’d been warned to pack. They were headed for Harajuku, where they wanted to spend Juliana’s unexpected day off checking out the trendy shops and the hip youth who’d brought media attention to the area by loitering around in splashy over-the-top costumes.
Sasha and Juliana ended up doing just that, not arriving back at their hotel until nearly dusk, their arms loaded mainly with items from a vintage store that sold old kimono and 1950s wear.
It’d been too hard to resist shopping, and between that and lunch, Sasha had run out of research time.
Or, maybe it was that avoidance thing again, because thinking of all the hot romance she was supposed to be uncovering only whipped up Chad’s blue gaze, Chad’s familiar scent…
Chad, Chad, Chad.
Juliana dropped her last package on her bed. “Tell me when I’m going to wear a used kimono?”
“It’s a perfect souvenir.”
“A pretty expensive one, too, even though it’s a simple creation. But it kept calling to me. ‘Buy me. Have me. I’m beautiful.’”
Laughing, Sasha started for her computer, then noticed the message light on the phone flashing.
Juliana saw it at the same time, then sent a grin to Sasha before picking up the handset and accessing the message.
Tristan. Juliana was obviously hoping it was him.
And, at first, Sasha thought it was, because her friend’s smile only got dreamier. But then after Juliana hung up and dialed another number, saying a sultry “Hi” to the person on the other end, she gradually angled away from Sasha, as if wanting to hide her expression as she “mmmhmm”ed, “oh-I’m-not-sure”ed then finally said, “Okay, we’ll give it a try in a half hour.”
When she ultimately set down the phone, she was hard to read.
“What’s up?” Sasha asked.
Juliana’s blond brows were slightly furrowed, but then they straightened.
“What do you say we put on our dinner clothes and then grab a drink in the lobby?” she asked. “Just a quick one.”
“Is Tristan meeting you there?”
“I suppose you could say that.” She made for the clothing drawers.
“Juliana.”
She turned around, a guilty cast to her expression that Sasha assumed was due to the whole Tristan affair.
“Just get dressed in snappy time, all right?” Juliana said, going about her business again. “Then we’ll have our drink and get on with our plans.”
“But—”
“Nope.” Juliana held up a finger. “Trust me, Sash. I may seem cryptic right now, but it’s going to be a great night.”
Rather intrigued, Sasha went along with her, slipping into a modest yet stylish maroon sheath with capped sleeves, then pinning up her hair. Juliana chose a light-blue, summery dress.
They went downstairs to the lobby, and Juliana headed for a grouping of chairs underneath some chandeliers where one person was already sitting, his back to them.
Just one man with wavy, sandy hair…
Heart crashing to her stomach, Sasha turned away from Chad to face Juliana. “What’s going on?”
Now her friend looked really guilty. “If you want to head straight out the door with me, then do it, and no one is going to fault you for it. But I have the feeling that you’d truly rather stay here. And you might not want to thank me now for this kick in the bustle, but I know you. You regret what didn’t happen at the castle yesterday.” Juliana paused. “But here’s another chance.”
Sasha didn’t know how to respond. You’re right, Juliana, I haven’t been able to stop wishing I’d reacted differently. Or maybe a better option would be: You and Tristan should just keep to your love hotels and let me do my own thing.
There was that pride that had taken her over yesterday, almost ruining everything.
Juliana cocked her head, her gaze sad. “I only want you to be happy.”
Now Sasha’s heart slipped down to the floor.
This time, answering was easy, even if her throat was tight. “I know you want that.”
She glanced back at the man in the chair, and it seemed as if everything were zeroing in on Chad: the light spearing toward him, the wood in the room closing in around him to make him the one, the only focal point.
Juliana was still talking in a rush of apologetic words. “That message on the phone? It was Tristan. He asked me to call him at his hotel, and at first I thought…hoped… he was asking me because he wanted to see me again. And he did want that, Sasha, but he also told me that Chad wanted to see you, even if it was just for a drink, and would it be okay for him to come over here? I told him yes, and I didn’t tell you anything at first because I wanted to get your donkey-stubborn self in the same room with Chad before you made up your mind.”
Sasha couldn’t stop gazing at him—the man she’d missed with every passing minute, the man who’d broken her heart.
“Sasha?”
She tore her attention away from her ex, feeling as if part of her were being ripped, too.
Juliana put a hand on Sasha’s arm. “Maybe we should just go to those clubs tonight. We’ll paint the town red. Just tell me and it’s as good as done.”
Juliana’s heartfelt plea finally registered with Sasha, and she grabbed her friend’s hand, squeezing it.
She did want this, so badly it was chipping away at her.
But…scared. She was so damned scared that she’d experience more shattering truths—that they would come to a dead end again and it would hurt more than ever.
“It’s just a drink,” Juliana said. “That’s all.”
Only a drink.
Sasha glanced at Chad again, but her heart had already decided.
“What I have to talk to him about is going to take more than a drink,” Sasha said. “I don’t want to ruin your night.”
“Then if you think this’ll take a while,” Juliana said, “I can make longer plans.”
When Sasha glanced at her friend, she found Juliana looking off to the side of the lobby, near the concierge’s desk, where a man dressed in a burgundy long-sleeved shirt and dark pants was waiting, nearly camouflaged by a crowd of Western businesspeople.
Juliana glanced back, her eyes full of desire. Full of yearning.
“Go,” Sasha said, releasing her friend’s hand. It felt as if she were giving up a lifeline, coming to float and bob on her own.
Juliana smiled, whispered, “Good luck,” then moved to where Tristan was, and Sasha felt as if she’d been set adrift.
But when she turned to see Chad waiting so patiently for her, she took a deep breath and dove in.
FROM BEHIND THE GROUP of businesspeople, Tristan watched Juliana approach, his pulse swatting at him as he recalled yesterday and how she’d left him to toss and turn last night, unable to stop thinking about her.
But now, here she was in a Wonderland-blue dress that clung to her waist, her hips. She’d worn her hair long again, and he wanted to damn all the hands-off customs in this country and slide his fingers through it as she came to stand in front of him, looking as pleased as pie.
“Phase One complete,” she said, referring to Chad, Sasha and the setup Tristan had facilitated based on the drink-fueled talk he’d had with his cousin last night over room service. But neither he nor Juliana glanced over at the star-crossed couple.
He couldn’t bring himself to look away from her.
A blush consumed her, and he knew she was remembering the waterfall, the pool, the bed in the love hotel, too.
The few hours they’d had together that he was trying to stretch into the here and now.
He skimmed a finger oh-so-subtly over her forearm, and she bit her bottom lip.
“Chad has big plans,” Tristan said. “I’m glad that Sasha’s giving him a shot.”
“Thank goodness. She can’t hide that she’s been thinking about him ever since yesterday.”
She was talking about Sasha, but Juliana’s eyes told Tristan that she was thinking of herself, as well. That she’d run their tryst through her mind a million times in an attempt to experience every thrill again.
One of the businesspeople next to them, a suited man with receding reddish hair, addressed Tristan. “So you want to come with us then?”
Juliana looked at Tristan, clearly not expecting that he’d been over here making small talk with people as he waited for her.
He did a one-shoulder shrug—I’m not that antisocial— then introduced the group. They were a computer crew from the States who were in Tokyo to observe and learn from a major software company.
The lone woman amongst the four—a brunette named Caroline who wore her hair in a low ponytail—spoke to Juliana. “When we heard your boyfriend asking the concierge about things to do in the city, we butted in.”
At the word boyfriend, Tristan and Juliana smiled at each other. They both knew better. But at the same time, something curved within Tristan, as if trying to change course.
He corrected it. They could have two nights together, and by the end of this one, it’d be over. The arrival of Dream Rising tomorrow guaranteed that, but common sense did, too.
The redheaded man, Charles, added, “We come to Tokyo a few times a year on extended trips, so we know our stuff. You’ll like this snack bar we’re going to. It’s kind of a hole in the wall, and the mama-san who runs it always recognizes us.”
When they’d mentioned it to Tristan earlier, it’d sounded perfect because the group could navigate the language and customs. Besides, Tristan had wanted to take Juliana out, anyway, flaunt her in public, even for just a meal—something they wouldn’t have the luxury of enjoying out in public when they got back home.
The blood in his veins almost growled in anticipation.
It would almost be an alternative present, he thought. This was how it could have been if they’d come out in the open with their relationship and stayed together.
So sue him if he was taking advantage of borrowed time. Later, they’d have plenty of opportunity to get back to the real present, alone again in their separate hotels, remembering what waited for them outside of their front doors back in Parisville.
They all exited the hotel and met the rainy evening together, Tristan holding an umbrella over both Juliana and him. Then the business group—the Fab Four, Tristan thought—brought them to a subway that stopped in Ebisu, where the bars and restaurants were piled on each other, advertised by boxy, lit signs that reminded Tristan of the “down” parts of a crossword puzzle.
Mysterious, rain-slicked, sexy. It was exactly the romance he knew Juliana would enjoy, and he longed to see that smile on her face.
Longed to know that he’d made her happy in the midst of their damned family feud.
In a quiet section of a paper-lantern-strewn alley, behind a door with white panels that only hinted at silhouettes and a female voice raised in song, they found their “snack bar.”
The dark-wooded, smoky room wasn’t crowded, boasting only two people besides the singing woman. All lounged at a bar while the floor seats waited to be filled.
When the mama-san greeted the Fab Four plus Tristan and Juliana, she did it as if they were the most important guests there.
She was middle-aged, dressed in a dark-blue-and-gray striped cotton kimono. After she led them to chairs positioned around a table, she knelt and made a sedate fuss over the Fab Four, chatting, then welcoming Tristan and Juliana, too. She took drink orders and rose to fetch small dishes of salad and popcorn.
Near them, a few TVs played generic footage of a rolling ocean while karaoke lyrics scrolled over the bottom. Yet Tristan wasn’t watching that. He was all too aware of Juliana sitting next to him, his thigh against hers.
He leaned over to talk to her, his mouth near her ear so she could hear over the music. “Did you have to cancel big plans for the night?”
She shifted, whisking a few soft hairs against his lips. The gentle contact sent blades of hunger through him.
“No, I was glad you called.” She moved even closer. “Really glad.”
Tristan itched to reach over and bring her onto his lap, where she could straddle him, her sex to his cock….
One of the Fab Four—Daryl, a guy who kind of looked like Tommy Lee Jones—canted toward them, and Tristan got his act together.
“Careful what you order,” the businessman said over the finale of the Japanese rock ballad that the woman was singing. “The bill adds up.”
Erik, the fourth member, loosened his pinstripe tie. “Even this—” he gestured toward the first round of food “—equals a cover charge.”
The woman finished her tune, and everyone clapped with enthusiasm.
One of the other men at the bar took up the microphone and started in with “Blue Hawaii” in Japanese while the mama-san brought their drinks.
Juliana lifted her glass of plum wine and Tristan held his beer in one hand, relaxing against the back of his chair. They toasted each other, then sipped, never losing eye contact.
The visual flirtation sent a zing through him, and he drank a little more to keep himself occupied.
“So,” Charles the redhead said over the music as the rest of the Four began thumbing through the book of song selections. “Is there anything in this great country you have your heart set on seeing?”
Yeah, Tristan thought. Juliana with her clothes off again.
“We’re going to a ryokan tomorrow,” she said.
“Ah, the Japanese-style inn,” the other man said, smiling as if recalling a time there of his own. “You’ll love it. It’s a beautiful experience, but very involved. They even have instruction sheets in the room about how to stay at a ryokan.”
“Everything is involved here,” Juliana said on an airy note.
But when she glanced at Tristan, he saw a double meaning.
The feud makes everything too involved.
Tristan tightened his grip on the beer while Juliana folded one leg over the other, toward him. His senses went nuts, dodging and attacking and generally making him regret his fanciful notions of romance and taking her on what would have to pass as the one and only date between them. Ever.
Maybe he should’ve just taken her to bed, as Terrence had done with Emelie during their days of indolent lovemaking and picture-painting.
Before they’d had to face reality with his engagement.
Before the world had gotten to them.
Juliana was speaking to Charles again. “If there’s anything else I wish I could see, it’d be a geisha.”
Tristan remembered her carrying around some book about geisha in school, remembered being curious about what might be going through Juliana’s mind. So he’d looked the word up in one of Gramps’s encyclopedias.
He recalled now a few details about the accomplished women who so smartly pleased men; they were artists and occasionally mistresses who had to quit their calling if they wished to marry.
“A geisha would really be a sight,” Charles said, “if you’re lucky enough to catch a glimpse of a true one. Genuine geisha places are normally closed to outsiders. You’d need to be invited by a Japanese insider who’s familiar with them. The company we work with over here hosted quite a banquet last year, Tokyo geisha and all. I count myself lucky to have been there.”
The mama-san knelt by the table again, telling the Fab Four that a man at the bar had requested them to sing.
Tickled by that—but not very surprised—the Four told her their selections.
Then Caroline explained what was going on. “When we first started coming to this snack bar, the mama-san was wary because we’re foreigners. But they’re used to us now. We even get requests from the locals since they like to hear us sing American tunes.”
Tristan could see that; when Charles ripped into his sub-American Idol version of “Danger Zone” in English, the patrons loved it, clapping at the end as if Charles were a rock star.
Juliana and Tristan applauded with the group, and by the next round of drinks, the Four were so into their karaoke that it left the two of them pretty much alone.
“You going to sing?” Tristan asked.
Juliana emphatically shook her head, her eyes wide.
“Oh, come on.” He grabbed a songbook and turned to the sliver of a section near the back with the English tunes. “Madonna? Spice Girls? Britney Spears?”
“No, no and hell no.”
He put the book down. “Not even a little Beyoncé?”
She laughed with such spirit that she leaned her head back, and his belly seemed to tilt like a room that’d collapsed on one side.
What was that about? She wasn’t naked. She hadn’t even made a sassy innuendo about what they could be doing in a bed just as soon as they’d finished eating enough to give them energy for the rest of the night.
At the tail end of her laughter, she tucked her hair behind her ear.
Then she went silent altogether when she saw what must’ve been a stunning intensity in his gaze.
He looked at her. She looked at him.
He’d fallen for her a long time ago, but now, in a place where no one would care how he felt about her, he was free to admit that he’d always hoped for another chance.
And he had it right in front of him.
JULIANA FAINTLY HEARD Caroline launching into another Top Gun song in the background, but it was all white noise.
The only thing she could really process was Tristan, the way he was watching her, as if…
As if he was looking into her.
She glanced away from him, leaning forward to grab her wineglass so he couldn’t see anything in her eyes—not the delight she’d felt when he’d joked about her singing. Not the moment of personal connection that had threatened to turn this sexual romp into something that couldn’t go beyond that.
As she sipped from her glass—maybe this was what was making her so fuzzy, all the plum wine—she reminded herself of tomorrow’s meeting at the ryokan for Dream Rising, then of having to go back home all too soon.
If only they were different people, she thought.
But…they weren’t.
Besides, what if Tristan were some guy her family would adore? Would she even bring him home?
Or would she keep him to herself just because it would be a show of hidden rebellion that would make her feel powerful in some petty way in the face of her family’s control?
All she knew was that Tristan made her weak—her limbs, her veins, her willpower.
And she didn’t want to be the weaker part of anything, like a mistress who had to answer to a man, or a subordinate who kowtowed to a boss or—
Or Emelie, she thought.
The realization rang through her as she leaned back against the chair, bringing her eye-to-eye with Tristan.
Not that he was going to ask her to keep seeing him in Parisville, but if he did, she wouldn’t be his version of Emelie—the woman who was desperately in love with a man, only to be cast off like a paintbrush that’d gotten too old to be used anymore.
What would she do from this point forward?
Should she keep seeing other men who weren’t Tristan? Men who bored her and didn’t have a prayer of living up to him?
Would she trade in the love from her family to be with him beyond this trip?
She wished Emelie and Terrence were around to give her advice, to tell her if they regretted not fighting for each other.
What had really gone on between the two of them, even beyond all the family legends? She only had a superficial account of Emelie’s side of the story.
Maybe there was a way for Juliana to find out….
“Know what might be interesting?” she asked Tristan, peering into his gray eyes. They were enough to talk her into just about anything.
Almost.
“What?” he said softly.
She could barely hear him, thanks to the music, but she could somehow feel his intimate tone feather through her.
“If you told me about what was in Terrence’s journals,” she said. “And I told you about Emelie’s letters.”
He sat up a little.
Of course. She’d almost forgotten that Tristan had let her go years ago, that he hadn’t seemed all that invested in having her stay because he didn’t want to make waves with his family, either.
He’d be loyal to them, just as she should be staying loyal to her own clan.
She straightened, too. “Okay, maybe there are certain places we shouldn’t go with each other. That journal and those letters belong to our families, not just us. I know my relatives might go ballistic if I showed them to you.”
“Right.” He ran a hand through his thick hair, pushing it away from his face.
He looked conflicted, and she remembered how he’d told her that his father hadn’t wanted him to jump all the way into the feud, becoming like his grandpa, who’d taken up Terrence’s cause.
Was Tristan straddling some line right now between moving on from this feud or defending his family?
She tried not to get excited about the possibility.
“Let’s pretend I never brought it up,” she said. “It was a random idea, anyway.”
“No.” He rested his forearms on his thighs, his hair spilling back over his brow. “It was a good idea. If our families understood each other more, maybe…”
He clamped his mouth shut, and Juliana got the finger-in-light-socket feeling that he’d been about to say something neither of them should be saying to each other.
Maybe they would’ve had the courage to stand together in front of their families, pursuing what they’d felt for each other back then.
Maybe it was time to end this now, before one of them did say the wrong thing. Before someone went too far when they’d already gone far enough.
The crowd, which had grown by three more Japanese customers within the past five minutes, applauded for Caroline as she ended her song, and she modestly gave them a wave.
Tristan slid Juliana a testing glance, and it pummeled her, mashing her common sense and leaving her bare with yearning for him.
She wanted him so badly, and what were they doing? Just sitting here talking about things that couldn’t be changed.
There were only so many hours left before tomorrow, so why were they wasting time?
With more bravado than was good for her, she downed the last of her plum wine, feeling its warmth glide from her mouth, down her throat, to her gut then outward. Her desire was pointed, sharp, in need of easing.
“Ready?” she asked.
Passion making his gaze burn, he signaled to the mama-san to settle the bill.