A One Night Affair (Kissing the Boss Book 2) Read online

  “The seat belt sign is off,” I pointed out. “I doubt anyone’ll stop you if you need to stretch.”

  Besides, I wouldn’t have minded some alone time. Sitting this close to my boss for this long was nerve racking. Every time his shoulders brushed mine, I jumped. I hoped he didn’t notice.

  “I’ll pass,” he muttered. “I can stand another three hours. Don’t ask me for the time again, though.”

  I blinked. “Are you asking me a favor?”

  “Not a favor. An order.”

  “You’re a terrible boss.”

  “Sara the Flight Attendant would disagree with you.”

  “Well, she thinks you’re hot.”

  He didn’t look away from the screen. “If I remember correctly, you think I’m good-looking as well. Wasn’t there a time when you told me not to move my, ah, good-looking ass?”

  My face heated. “I’m not blind.”

  He laughed. “No, you most certainly aren’t.”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but then closed it again when nothing came to mind.

  What was I supposed to say?

  I wish I were blind because then I wouldn’t have naughty dreams about you every night.

  On the other hand, I’m glad I’m not because watching you is a treat.

  I groaned mentally, closed my eyes, and tried to fall asleep. Three hours later, I resisted the urge to cheer when the captain’s voice came over the intercom, saying we were making our final descent over Los Angeles.

  And not a moment too soon.

  Being so close to the object of my most fevered dreams was driving me up the wall. I had taken to concentrating on the beating of my heart so I didn’t focus on Nobuki, but even that was wearing thin.

  As the plane’s wheels hit the tarmac with a slight bump, I let out a breath I hadn’t even known I was holding.

  It looked like I was going to hang on to my sanity.

  For a while longer, anyway.

  Chapter 2

  “Every city has its own distinct scent.”

  I never understood why Ayaka said that until we stepped off the plane and into a wide hallway, following the arrows indicating baggage claim.

  Los Angeles smelled of gasoline and flowers.

  People were everywhere and I couldn’t stop gawking at the sheer variety of humans. Fat, thin, tall, short, light skin, dark skin, it was all so interesting and I almost tripped over my own feet as I watched an Indian man with a turban argue with a Caucasian woman in a business suit and dark sunglasses.

  “You’re staring,” Nobuki muttered as we stood in the immigration line. “Stop it. It’s rude.”

  “Sorry, sorry,” I said, guiltily looking away from a family of four, the blonde mother chastising her son for teasing his sister.

  “You haven’t been outside of Japan, have you?”

  Was that scorn in his voice? “I have.”

  Nobuki lifted a brow. “Where?”

  “Okinawa.”

  “Okinawa isn’t abroad.”

  “It is to me. I had to get on a plane and there were lots of foreigners there. It might as well have been abroad. I swear, there were more Americans than Japanese,” I shot back. “Besides, you know there’s the army base. I walked into a bar near the airport and thought I was in New York.”

  “New York?”

  His doubtful expression made me mumble, “What I think New York looks like.”

  Nobuki sighed. We didn’t talk again until we got through the line and ended up at the baggage corrals.

  There were so many people milling around, and I couldn’t stop staring at the diversity surrounding us. Skin as white as milk and as dark as charcoal, and every degree in between. No wonder I couldn’t keep my mouth closed.

  They say Japan is one of the most homogeneous places in the world.

  They’re right.

  I could count on my hands how many foreigners I saw on the subway in any given week, and still have a few fingers left over.

  Here, I stood shoulder to shoulder with people from other countries; the man on my left who looked very Swedish with his white complexion and almost as white hair, while the woman on my right was short, squat, and darker than ebony.

  Her luggage came out first, a gigantic gray Samsonite. When she struggled to pull it off the conveyor, I helped her with the bag that probably weighed as much as she did.

  She gave me a brilliantly white smile.

  “Thank you, thank you,” she said in a heavy accent, patting my shoulder. “You’re an angel.”

  I said a silent prayer for all those English lessons in dreary classrooms and replied, “No problem.”

  My two first words in English since our plane landed in Los Angeles. I felt stupidly accomplished for saying that much.

  “I wish more girls were sweet like you.” She patted my cheek with a motherly hand. “I’d love to introduce you to my son.”

  “Um…”

  Had she just asked me to meet her son?

  Why? “Er, I…”

  My mind blanked. What should I say?

  Nobuki appeared next to me, carting both our bags. “Thank you for the offer, but she cannot accept.”

  The woman’s eyes widened.

  “Oh, is she your lady, then?”

  He smiled.

  Her laughter was surprisingly deep, bawdy almost. “Well then, why didn’t you say so, sweetie?”

  As she left with her giant bag, she slapped me on the butt.

  Hard.

  “Go get ’em, girl,” she said with another bawdy laugh and disappeared behind a crowd of tourists clutching Korean passports.

  I stared at Nobuki, my right butt cheek smarting from her sudden blow.

  “She hit me.”

  He looked like he was biting the inside of his cheek, but there was no obvious emotion on his face. “Let’s go. I don’t want to keep our escort waiting.”

  Still a bit in shock, I took my bag and rolled on after him.

  We skirted around a man struggling with an overloaded trolley while a young lady screamed a strange language, possibly Spanish, at her cell phone.

  “Do you know who our escort is?” I asked.

  “We’ve…met,” he said shortly as we got in yet another line, this one for a luggage scanning machine.

  “Oh,” I said. Thankfully, the line moved quickly. “Can you tell me anything about him? It’d be nice to know about the guy before we meet.”

  “Why?”

  “I want to say how much I’d heard about him.”

  He huffed out a breath. “He wouldn’t believe you.”

  “Wait, what? Why not?”

  “Just put your luggage up.”

  I did and walked the few steps to pick it back up at the end of the conveyor belt. The security employees looked bored staring at the X-rays of everyone’s luggage and I felt a sudden pang of pity.

  “Thank you,” I said, grabbing my luggage.

  “No problem, ma’am,” said one man who gave me a tired smile. “Welcome to LA.”

  Nobuki was already halfway to the doors and I ran after him, handbag banging against my hip.

  “So, about this guy,” I gasped out, almost running straight into his arm as he slowed down to let an older couple with a loaded trolley pass us. “It was good of him to meet us. We could’ve rented a car, right?”

  “Certainly would’ve been easier,” he muttered and sighed as the older couple exited into the meeting area. “Let’s go.”

  Why was he so disturbed?

  “Is something wrong?”

  Ignoring me—what a surprise—he surged ahead, and I had to jog to keep up with him.

  Par for the course.

  Me, always one step behind him.

  Entering the meeting area, I was awash in light and sound. Around me, people embraced each other, couples kissed, people shook hands. The smell of gasoline and, for some reason, French fries was thick in the air.

  Momentarily stunned, I almost didn’t see the tall blond man
hold up his arm in greeting, his eyes on us.

  He looked like a heartbreaker.

  And that’s me saying it with a devastatingly handsome devil for a boss.

  I watched him walk to the gates, looking amazing in a black leather jacket, a plain white shirt hanging over a pair of semi-tight jeans, and dark blue sneakers.

  When he met Nobuki, he pulled my boss into a bear hug, laughing loudly and pounding hard on Nobuki’s back.

  Maybe it was a thing here in America.

  Smacking people might be a sign of greeting.

  That’s something my English classes never taught me.

  “Man, it’s great to see you!” He pulled back, looking at Nobuki at arm’s length. “How long has it been? Ten, fifteen years?”

  Nobuki’s smile was wooden. “Twelve.”

  “Twelve? Twelve? Damn, it’s been too long, bro.”

  “Too long,” muttered Nobuki, although the look on his face said it wasn’t long enough.

  “Man, let me help you with your bag.”

  “I’ve got it, Julian.”

  “It’s all good, Nobu, I don’t mind.”

  “Well, I mind. I don’t need your help.”

  They fought over Nobuki’s one medium-sized suitcase and I tried not to laugh.

  A pair of young women with bleached blond hair turned to look at Nobuki’s friend, their eyes admiring.

  I couldn’t blame them; I was doing a lot of staring myself.

  If Nobuki was the night, then his friend was the day, the masculine personification of the sun at its zenith.

  All tanned skin, blond hair, and eyes the color of the blue sky. Legs long enough to draw one’s attention, and impressively muscular arms, evident even through his jacket.

  He was thicker around the torso than my boss. Nobuki was built like a runner, all lean and whiplike but his friend was shaped like a Viking marauder. Broad shouldered with large hands that were just as capable around the hilt of a sword or pruning roses.

  Nobuki managed to wrest the luggage handle from his friend’s hand and then nodded in my direction, his hair all over the place from the brief struggle. “If you’re so eager to help, why don’t you help her?”

  The Viking warrior finally noticed me.

  This close to him, the color of his eyes made my heart leap to my throat.

  The ocean.

  Not just any ocean.

  The ocean I saw in a hot Okinawan summer, all blue and green and gray, jewellike in its intensity.

  His face wasn’t as refined as Nobuki’s; there was a slight bump to his nose, as though it had been broken, but he had a strong jawline and sensual lips that looked as though they smiled often.

  Such a contrast with Nobuki Miyano.

  The stranger’s mouth widened in a blinding smile as he straightened up to his full height, a couple of centimeters taller than Nobuki. “Damn, Nobu. You never mentioned bringing a friend along.”

  Nobuki straightened his cuffs, looking a little less disheveled.

  “She’s not my friend,” he said bitingly.

  I ignored the sudden pain in my heart.

  “She’s my secretary. Miss Hasegawa, this is Julian Lambert. Julian, this is Rika Hasegawa.”

  “Very pleased to meet you, Miss Hasegawa,” said Julian. “Welcome to Los Angeles. If you need anything, just let me know.”

  I blinked.

  He had addressed me in flawless Japanese, not a shadow of accent detectable.

  “Um,” I fumbled for words through my surprise. “I speak English, too. A bit, anyway.”

  He laughed, one hand on the back of his neck, adopting a boyish and strangely becoming air. “Damn, I was hoping I could practice some Japanese today. It’s not every day I get to talk to such a pretty lady.”

  I suppressed the urge to giggle like a twit. “Your Japanese is impeccable. I was so surprised.”

  “And your English is very good,” he said graciously.

  “You’re too kind.” My face heated as I let him take my bag. He was close enough to touch, and even through the scent of leather emanating from his jacket, I could smell something else, something spicy like cinnamon. “Thank you.”

  He winked at me. “Are you sure you don’t want to speak in Japanese? I would appreciate the practice. Don’t want to forget the language of my best friend.”

  “Oh, please.” Nobuki rolled his eyes. “You call our company every day, bugging the hell out of anyone who picks up the phone, and now you’re going to bother my secretary? I don’t think so.”

  Julian frowned. “Man, you always know how to kill a party.”

  “Wasn’t much of one.”

  Julian led us to a black SUV, large and dangerous, very much like himself, and opened up the trunk. He hefted in my bag as though it weighed nothing and held out his hand to Nobuki, who pointedly ignored his hand and threw in his own piece of luggage.

  “I’m not a woman. I can handle my own stuff.”

  I stiffened. His comment was insulting.

  Apparently, Julian felt the same. “Dude, do you always have to sound so damn sexist? I’m pretty sure Miss Hasegawa could carry her own stuff, but she’s letting me do it because she’s polite. Just like every other damn Japanese I’ve met.” He paused. “Except for you. You’ve always been a bit of an asshole, haven’t you?”

  Abruptly, Nobuki turned around, less than five centimeters away from Julian, his face set in a thunderous mask.

  “You weren’t my first choice,” he spat out, and even though I wasn’t the recipient of his ire, I found myself taking a step back.

  “I love you, too, man,” said Julian mildly. “Seriously, though, you need to relax.” He continued in that same calm tone, as though they were talking about the weather, not about…whatever was really going on. “I know what your problem is.”

  “No.” Nobuki’s eyes blazed. “You don’t. Don’t pretend like you do. I don’t need your pity, Julian.”

  Julian stepped back and something eased in my chest. Thank God. I thought they were going to come to blows.

  “It wasn’t just you, man,” Julian said, as we slowly baked under the hot Los Angeles sun. “She got me, too. She got both of us.”

  My ears perked.

  She?

  The way Julian sounded, it seemed as though they were talking about a possible…girlfriend? Lover? Coworker?

  Nobuki looked away, his shoulders stiff. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “That’s fine.” Julian took another step back and put one hand on the upraised trunk door. I tried not staring at the torso peeking out from the raised shirt hem, but I’m only human.

  Oh, and I haven’t had sex in about two years.

  Just hormones.

  That’s all.

  Just a simple biological reaction.

  Because, hey, it was okay to have sexy dreams about my boss but still think another man is sexier than black leather strappy heels, right?

  Nobuki took a deep breath and then looked at me. “I’m sorry, Miss Hasegawa. That was—”

  “No, no, it’s okay,” I stammered. While I was curious about what happened between Julian, Nobuki, and the mysterious woman they referred to, I didn’t want to embarrass my boss by making him explain something that was none of my business. “It’s between you and Mr. Lambert, and I don’t—”

  The car trunk slammed down, making me jump at the sudden thump.

  Julian moved past me, once again bathing me in the subtle scent of leather and cinnamon, and opened the passenger door. “After you, ma’am.”

  “In the front? With you?”

  A development I hadn’t expected and wasn’t sure if I wanted. Not with Nobuki staring daggers into our escort.

  The corners of Julian’s ocean-blue eyes crinkled. “I’d much rather look at you than Nobu. You’re a lot easier on the eyes.”

  “Um, I—”

  Thankfully, Nobuki stopped me from having to give Julian a good excuse as he slipped into the front passenger seat.<
br />
  “I think Miss Hasegawa would prefer sitting in the back,” he said, his gaze forward. “She was telling me how tired she was.” He looked at me coolly. “Isn’t that right, Miss Hasegawa?”

  Not bothering to hide the relief on my face, I smiled, opened the back door, and clambering onto the hot leather seat before Julian could blink.

  Feeling more than a little mischievous, I poked my head out the door and smiled at Julian.

  “Are you coming?” I was so relieved the two hadn’t come to blows that I even laughed a bit. “I could drive this, but considering my knowledge of your country, we just might end up in, ah, New York.”

  Nobuki snorted in the front seat.

  Julian eyed me speculatively. I kind of liked it. “Well, I hate New York, but if it’s with you, the damned place might not be too bad after all.”

  Now it was Nobuki’s turn to look out his window. “You’re flirting with my secretary, you moron. How about a little more class, hmm?”

  Julian sighed and shot me a glance through the rearview mirror. “Miss Hasegawa, normally if some asshole calls me a moron, I’m the kind of guy who takes it because, hey, sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.”

  I blinked. “I can think of plenty of insults that would be painful to hear.”

  “Then again,” he said, “There’s something about Nobu’s insults that tend to hit me especially hard.”

  “So why do you just take it instead of pushing him off a cliff?”

  “Because the nearest cliff is fifty miles away,” said Nobuki under his breath.

  Julian’s smile was amazing. “It’s his way of saying he cares. Notice how he never has anything good to say about anyone?”

  I stared at him. “You’re right. He’s never said anything complimentary about anyone.”

  “See what I mean?” said Julian. “But people he hates, he acts like they don’t exist. So if he treats you like crap, consider it a compliment because at least he knows you exist.”

  “So when he calls you a moron, he means—”

  Julian nodded. “Good friend.”

  “You wish,” snapped Nobuki. “Get us out of here before we melt in the heat, you bastard.”

  It was the first time I’d heard Nobuki curse.