Page 15 of Wife for a Week

As for her wanting him, well, that was only to be expected. It was an automatic response to a man like Nick, like breathing. It didn’t necessarily mean she wanted a relationship with him. She’d fought hard for her independence from her well-meaning brothers; fought dirty at times to keep it. She couldn’t give it up. Wouldn’t. She didn’t want to be a cosseted corporate wife. Not even for Nick.

So it was settled. Nick was right. From now on she would stick to the plan. And to the rules. For both their sakes.

Nick joined her slightly before seven, freshly showered, shaven, and thoroughly eye-catching in dark trousers and yet another one of those crisp white shirts he wore without a tie. Honestly, how a woman was supposed to keep her resolve around such a man was anyone’s guess.

Still, her smile of greeting was warm but not provocative, her body language welcoming but not enticing. ‘I’ve had a rethink about the whole wanting dilemma,’ she said casually, as if they were talking about nothing more important than the weather. ‘I’m thinking denial is our best option.’

‘I’m way ahead of you,’ he said.

‘I mean, it’s only for a few more days, I’m sure it’s doable. That way you get to concentrate on your work and I get the money to finish my diploma.’

‘Exactly. Thanks, Hallie,’ he said with a relieved smile.

‘Don’t smile,’ she warned him. ‘My resolve is not altogether reliable. I’m also thinking I should be more supportive. More corporate wife. What can I do?’

‘Just what you have been doing. Keeping the conversation easy, finding common ground. In that regard you’re doing fine.’

Uh, oh. A compliment. Dangerous ground. She hurried on. ‘And I’m not sure where I should sit at dinner. Beside you? Opposite you? Where?’

‘Beside me,’ he said. ‘John says the restaurant we’re going to doesn’t look like much but it has the best chilli crab in Hong Kong. I hope you like it hot and messy.’

She did. Hallie felt her mouth begin to water. Dinner didn’t sound very corporate at all. It sounded like fun. She looked down at her black trousers and pink shirt. The trousers were fine. The shirt was a problem. Chilli crab juice splattered over pink silk was not a good look. ‘Maybe I should change clothes.’

Or maybe she could try to be a tidy crab eater, she thought with a sigh as John, Jasmine and Kai joined them.

‘I thought we might travel to the restaurant by ferry,’ said John with a smile. ‘Consider it an old man’s indulgence. I delight in being out on the harbour at night.’

‘He delights in showing our city off to visitors is what he really means,’ whispered Jasmine to Hallie with a grin. ‘But it’s a journey you won’t forget, I promise you. Shall we go?’

The ferry crossing was every bit as magical as Jasmine had promised, with Hong Kong Central on one shore and Kowloon on the other, each of them trying to outshine the other with their neon-draped skyscrapers and their laser displays that lit up the night. The harbour itself was vibrant with activity; the playful breeze and the gentle slap-slap of waves against the boat a sensual delight. But it was the skyline that truly dazzled her, the thousands upon millions of lights that turned the busy harbour into fairyland.

‘You’ve made John’s night,’ said Nick. ‘Just watching your face was enough.’

‘Nick, it’s so beautiful.’

‘Yes, it is,’ he said quietly. But he wasn’t looking at the lights of Hong Kong. He was looking at her.

Disconcerted, Hallie clasped her arms around her waist and looked away.

‘Cold?’

‘No.’

But he pulled her closer anyway, so that his warmth was at her back and his arms were around her waist, and she let him because they had an audience.

Because it felt right.

The restaurant was nothing more than daytime pavement converted by plastic tables and chairs into a night-time eating area. Large bins of live crabs, their pincers tightly tied, lined one side of the makeshift square, bamboo growing in tubs lined another. The shopfront made the third side of the square. The fourth side was the gutter. It was badly lit, full of people, had no tablecloths whatsoever, and, more importantly, loads of paper napkins.

A ragged waiter hurried over to greet them and escorted them to a vacant table only to discover the tabletop sticky with beer. He skirted around it with an apologetic smile and showed them to an adjacent table. Bottled water arrived not thirty seconds later, along with cups for everyone. Chopsticks and crab-claw crushers appeared in front of each person. There was no menu. The restaurant served crab; that was all it served.

‘Cooked any way you like,’ the waiter assured them.

They ordered a chilli crab platter along with beer and white wine, and Hallie sat back to wait while her stomach growled and her mouth watered with every fragrant, steaming platter that emerged from the shopfront doorway.

‘You’re drooling,’ said Nick. ‘A good husband would point this out to his wife.’

‘I am not drooling,’ she said indignantly. ‘I’m embracing the atmosphere.’ As for him being a good husband…Ha! She wasn’t even going to start thinking along those lines. As soon as this week was over she’d probably never see him again. She would do much better to think about that.

Another waiter emerged from the doorway, steaming crab platter in hand, and wove his way towards them, turning at the last minute to deliver the tray to the people who’d arrived just after them and been seated at the sticky table. ‘Damn,’ she muttered. ‘So close and yet so far.’

‘You’re really not a half measures kind of girl, are you?’ Nick was looking at her with a sort of wry resignation.

‘Er, no. Is that a problem?’

‘Not exactly.’

Hallie watched the activity at the next table as the waiter deftly served the topmost whole crab to a dark-haired European man and then distributed various bits and pieces of crab to his Asian companions.

‘The first serving always goes to the honoured guest,’ said Jasmine, noticing her preoccupation. ‘It is the best.’

Hallie nodded. The Chinese were one of the most widespread and successful cultures on earth and force had nothing to do with it. Why use force when flattery and business acumen worked better? Only this time the flattery didn’t seem to be working well at all. The dark-haired European was making strange choking noises and his face was turning an unnatural shade of purple. His hands were clutching at this throat; his eyes were glassy with tears.

‘Just how hot is the chilli crab?’ she whispered to Jasmine.

‘Not that hot,’ whispered Jasmine as the man toppled to the floor, foaming at the mouth, his chair sliding out from beneath him to ram into a half-full tub of crabs and knocking it over.

The rest was chaos.

Diners fled. Crabs scuttled beneath nearby tables, some with their pincers tied, some with them snapping. Nick was over by the fallen man and Kai with him. John Tey was barking what sounded like directions into his mobile phone and the crabs…the crabs were on the run.

‘Feet up,’ said John, and neither she nor Jasmine wasted any time arguing that it wasn’t very ladylike. Jasmine leaned over and dangled her chopsticks in front of a crab and, when it bit, deftly lifted it up and shot it back into the tub.

‘Don’t do it again,’ ordered her father.

Jasmine just smiled.

The kitchen staff descended; the apron-clad cook protesting loudly that this wasn’t his doing, while nimble-fingered kitchen hands scooped escapee crabs into buckets.

By the time the paramedics arrived, the crowd around the fallen man was six deep. Hallie stood well out of the way as he was stretchered into an ambulance that zoomed off with its sirens wailing. He hadn’t looked well. Truth be told, he’d looked practically dead.

‘Probably just a reaction to seafood or something,’ muttered Jasmine, worrying at her lower lip.

‘Yeah,’ said Hallie, reaching for Jasmine’s hand and watching in silence as Kai casually liberated a piece of crab from the victim’s plate, wrapped it in a napkin and pocketed it. He did the same for a crab claw from another plate. ‘Reckon he’s going to get them tested?’

‘I think so,’ said Jasmine, her attention all for Kai as he rejoined them.

‘What?’ he said, eying her warily.

‘Go wash your hands.’

CHAPTER SIX

NO ONE was hungry after that. Not for crab. John’s suggestion that they return to the house and eat there met with instant approval although Jasmine looked a little panicked.

‘Do we need to stop by a supermarket on the way home?’ Hallie whispered as they headed for the wharf and the ferry terminal. Her brothers could strip a fully stocked kitchen of its food in less than two days; she knew what it was like to be asked to cook up a little gourmet something when the cupboard was practically bare.

‘I have noodles,’ whispered Jasmine. ‘I can’t feed guests noodles.’

‘Of course you can,’ countered Hallie. ‘Nick loves noodles.’ And if he didn’t, he’d eat them anyway. ‘May I help you prepare them?’

‘My father will have a fit if you do,’ said Jasmine.

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