Wife for a Week(26)

Jasmine blinked. Then she went white.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Hallie hurriedly, cursing her wayward mouth. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you. It was just a thought. I’ve only been here two days, what do I know?’

‘It would explain many things,’ said Jasmine with a tiny shake of her head. ‘Oh, Hallie, I’ve been so mean to him lately.’

‘I think Kai can handle a little mean, don’t you?’ said Hallie, her gaze meeting Kai’s as he reappeared at the bottom of the stairs and started towards them with that silent, ground-eating stride. He was a warrior this one, a warrior steeped in the old ways; she knew the breed. Honour-bound to protect his charge; he would be equally determined to resist his feelings for her.

Not that he had the slightest chance of doing that indefinitely, thought Hallie as Kai’s hooded gaze connected with Jasmine’s newly aware one. Particularly if Jasmine decided she had feelings for him.

Water always prevailed in the end, no matter how hard the rock. Everyone knew that.



Lunch was a feast of flavours and hugely entertaining. The food hall was large, the crowd was raucous and Hallie loved it. Almost as much as she enjoyed the silent byplay between Kai and Jasmine. Kai seemed to sense Jasmine’s disquiet and watched her closely. Jasmine watched him when he wasn’t watching her.

When Hallie could eat no more, when she was full to bursting and couldn’t contemplate another mouthful, they cleared their table and headed up the escalator to browse the shops on the next level. Collector’s shops, Jasmine told her distractedly before excusing herself and hurrying down a side corridor towards the bathrooms.

Kai watched her go, his gaze not leaving her retreating form. Moments later he was striding after her, catching her by the arm and swinging her round to face him just as she reached the bathroom door in an unmistakable display of baffled masculinity.

Hallie grinned and left them to it, wandering over towards an odd little corner shop while she waited. It was hard to tell what it sold; the red velvet drapes in the display windows weren’t giving away any clues. And then she saw it. A solitary Chinese funeral vase sitting on a pedestal. It was old, so very old, and almost luminous in its fragile beauty. It was absolutely breathtaking.

The stark black signwork on the entry door was in Chinese. Hallie had no idea what it said. But a glance through the door showed more funeral vases inside, some on pedestals, some behind glass, and she simply couldn’t resist a closer look.

The mood inside the shop was a sombre reflection of the stock, the salesman young and immaculately presented in a tailored grey suit. He looked up, surprise and wariness crossing his face as she came further into the shop. Maybe he didn’t speak English and was worried about how to approach her, thought Hallie. Or maybe he’d forgotten how to speak at all; that was a possibility too given the number of customers he probably saw in a day. She sent him a reassuring smile and turned to the vases on display. Many of them were old. They were all beautiful. But none was lovelier than the one in the window.

‘Excuse me,’ she said to the young salesman, who still hadn’t spoken but was watching her closely nonetheless, ‘but do you speak English?’

‘Some,’ he said with a slight smile.

Some was good. Some was definitely better than none, which was the exact extent of her Cantonese. ‘May I have a closer look at the vase in the window?’

‘Madam probably wishes to buy a different kind of vase,’ said the young man with surprising firmness. ‘There are many other vases for sale on the next shopping level.’



‘I’ll keep that in mind,’ she said. ‘Right now I’m more interested in these vases.’

‘Madam does realize that these vases are not for flowers.’

‘I know. They’re funeral vases.’

‘Indeed so. They house the ashes of our beloved deceased.’

Yes, they did. And the one in the front window was perfect for a certain pretend husband whose postcoital sensitivity was non-existent! Nick wanted a vase. She wanted his money gone. Definitely a win-win situation. ‘Would I be able to take a closer look at the one in the window?’

‘It’s very expensive, Madam.’

‘I suspected as much,’ she said smoothly. Not exactly salesman of the year, this one. She waited. So did he.

Finally he moved to the window, retrieved the vase and placed it carefully on the counter in front of her. She wanted her magnifying glass, contented herself with examining the vase inside and out. Definitely a collector’s item.

‘No refunds,’ he said. ‘Madam has to be very sure.’