BindingCherryBlossoms (5 page)

Do everything he’d demanded.

Take everything he’d given.

This time they climaxed together, her
Bakushi
mouthing his pleasure against her lips as he pushed into her a final time
before collapsing at her side.

“I had intended to teach you the names of the utensils in
the Tea Ceremony,
keisei,
” he said, rolling up onto one arm, his other
hand pulling the glass rod free. “I will send you a gift to teach you. You will
have the words memorized by the next time we meet.”

Then he bowed, retrieved his robe and left her to get
dressed alone, wondering if he would return or if this was her cue to leave.
Deciding on the latter, she placed her mask on the bed and left, her entire
body aching in the aftermath of his attention.

* * * * *

Sakura was thrilled when the package arrived at Nakao
Enterprises the next afternoon. She had the delivery man carry the heavy box to
her office where she opened it in private, knowing her father would ask way too
many questions if he caught a glimpse of the box.

She cut it open to find a computer flash-drive tucked into a
small and elegant note that read:

On the flash drive you will find a video of one of the
great tea masters. Watch.
Keiko
—practice. You will show me what you have
learned Saturday at eight o’clock in two weeks’ time
.

Bakushi
.

She tucked the flash drive back into the note and placed
them both in her pocketbook before lugging out the heavy wooden box beneath.
Inside she found a
Chabako
—a Tea Ceremony toolbox containing everything
she would need to perform the ceremony except for a brazier on which to heat
the water. She examined each tool with serious intent before she placed them
all carefully back in their case.

Then she took the flash drive and plugged it into her
computer, watching as a beautiful Japanese woman appeared on the screen. She
could have been anywhere from thirty to fifty, her face ageless in its amazing
beauty, only the few strands of silver in her hair giving any hint that she was
older than she appeared. She wore a pink kimono dotted with flowers—cherry
blossoms, Sakura noted with excitement—her tiny waist wrapped with a darker
pink obi sash trimmed in purple. She crossed the room on traditional
geta
sandals, managing the task perfectly despite the footwear’s awkward heels which
were basically two bars that ran across the sole of the sandals, one at the
ball of the foot and one closer to the heel, making them difficult to balance
properly. Then the woman dropped to her knees beside the
tatami
mat,
sitting back on her heels without a wobble as she pulled a cloth from the
sleeve of her kimono and began to perform the ritual.

Sakura watched in awe, noting everything from the tilt of
the woman’s head to the movement of her hands, thrilled to have such a valuable
and thoughtful tool. Then the entire sequence repeated itself, but this time
she could hear her teacher’s voice saying the word of every item used in the
ceremony, both in English and Japanese.

She vowed to have everything memorized by the Saturday after
next when she would show her teacher what she had learned. After that Sakura
would make him scream his gratitude after her tea lesson was finished and they
moved on to darker pleasures…although she was disappointed he intended to make
her wait so very long.

Caught up in her studies, she did not hear the knock on the
door, jumping in guilty shock when Ian Shoji poked his head inside.

“Do you have plans for lunch? I’ve got a surprise for you.”
He held out a brown paper bag and shook the contents, giving her a curious look
when she slammed her computer closed. “Did I interrupt something important?”

“No.” Sakura removed the flash drive and reached for her purse.

But Ian wasn’t put off so easily. “What is in the box?”
Before she could stop him, he bent over the package, furrowing his brow. “If I
didn’t know better, I’d say you were importing contraband.” He grumbled as she
nudged him out of the way before folding the edges of the box closed. “Probably
banned produce or rare insect larva.”

Sakura had to laugh as he tried to look over her and peer
again into the box, pressing their bodies close together. “If it is
contraband,” she warned, her hands against his chest as she tried to push him
away, “you had better get your nose out of it now. Papa would have a heart
attack if he had to call your family and explain you were arrested.”

His muscles were firm beneath her palms, the heat of his
skin seeping up along her arms to trickle down her into her stomach. Desire
blossomed unexpectedly and Sakura knew Ian felt it too—she could tell by the
way he stiffened as if afraid to come closer, yet unwilling to break the
contact. Sakura stared at him from beneath her lashes.

“Didn’t your mother warn you not to look at men like that?”
He finally jerked away.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re ready to strip and take them to bed.”

“You wish.” Sakura waved her hand at his face. “We’ve
already had this conversation, remember?”

“We had a conversation about our family’s plans for a
wedding,” he countered, “not about having a hot round of sex.”

“Do you want to have a hot round of sex?” If Shoji was going
to act like an ass, she would be very glad to help him. “The two of us, naked
in your hotel room, drinking champagne and making love until we both pass out?”
Putting on her best come-hither pout, she sidled toward him, her hips swinging
from side to side in an exaggerated motion.

To her surprise he chuckled and shook the bag once more. “I
had intended to save these until after lunch but right now I feel like I need
one.” He wiped imaginary sweat from his brow. “Or the proverbial cigarette. You
won’t tell your boyfriend I made a pass, will you?”

“Boyfriend?” Sakura was puzzled. “Oh.” She shook her head
and grabbed her purse. “I made him up. So what do you have hidden in the bag?”
she added as she saw his brows draw together. She hadn’t intended to let him
catch her in the lie, but since they had reached an arrangement, she didn’t
feel the need to keep up the pretense. And she certainly was not going to tell
him about her teacher at the Red Mask.

To her relief he accepted the explanation, tipping his head
toward the much bigger package. “Are we going to have some deal where I’ll show
you mine if you show me yours?” While his tone was still light, a darker
glimmer lurked at the edges of his eyes, making Sakura want to slide up to him
once more, but this time have the courage to actually reach out and wrap her
arms around his shoulders and have him pull her close against the tapered
muscles of his thighs.

With deliberate intent, she tucked such thoughts away. Ian
wasn’t on the menu…not today, not ever.

“Not a chance.” Sakura slung her purse over her arm and led
the way to the door. Some fresh ocean air would do them both some major good.
“But I will spring for lunch if you’ll show me your surprise,” she called over
her shoulder, making certain he followed. “I’m willing to fork out twenty bucks
or so to see what’s hidden in bag number one.”

“Kit Kat bars,” he answered with a smirk.

“Kit Kat bars.” Her disappointment was obvious.

“Don’t look so glum, grasshopper. There are eighty different
flavors of Kit Kat bars in Japan and I am going to make you taste some of the
more interesting ones.”

“I can’t wait,” she said dubiously as they stepped out into
the afternoon, squinting into the sudden sunlight. What had she hoped for…an
intimate champagne meal for two? But Ian was different from her
Bakushi
,
as light as her master was dark, as fun as her master was serious. Which was
really too bad since she enjoyed the company of both men…although in completely
different ways. “So where do you want to eat?” she asked, unable to resist the
smile he gave her, or the way the wind feathered his sleek black hair.

“I thought we could grab some sandwiches and head down to
Waterfront Park.” He took her hand in his and led her down the sidewalk. “I
want to see the big pineapple fountain.”

Thirty minutes later they were sitting on a bench on the
pier finishing their sandwiches while the sea foamed around them. Sakura loved
the sound and the smell of the ocean. She had grown up with it all her life and
could not imagine spending even a few days away from the restless tempest of
the water.

“In Japan the sea is an even brighter shade of blue,” Ian
commented, his eyes fastened on the horizon. “But it is nice here too.”

“Snob. I’d pit the Atlantic against the Pacific any day of
the week.”

“Have you ever seen the Pacific? And not in some picture or
travel magazine. When the sun rises over the waters, it takes your breath
away.”

Sakura sighed. “No. I’ve never been out of the country,
actually.”

Ian frowned. “You’ve never even been to Japan?”

“Not once. Papa was the youngest of four sons and stood to
inherit nothing from his family, but when he decided to come to the States to
seek his fortune his father was livid. Papa had two uncles who were killed in
World War Two, and after the added horror of the bombings at Hiroshima and
Nagasaki, his father hated the US with a passion that bordered on insanity.
Papa never went back.”

“So why all the interest in expanding his business there
now?” Ian tossed their trash in a nearby can before moving to open the bag of
Kit Kat bars.

“After his father passed, his brothers decided he’d been
exiled long enough. They found Papa and made amends. Now he can’t get enough of
what he’d given up all those years ago.” She shook her head as Ian laid several
of the foreign candy bars across his lap. “Those are not Kit Kats,” she
observed, picking one up to examine it.

“Indeed they are.” Ian pointed to them each in turn. “What
flavor would you like to try first? I have Purple Sweet Potato, Citrus Golden
Blend, Edamame Soybean—”

“Soybean? That sounds totally gross!”

“Or Japanese Chili and Wasabi, my personal favorite.” A
wicked smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. I will so not eat that.” But
she giggled as he waved the candy in front of her face.

“Trust me, it’s a cult favorite.” He made a grand show of
unwrapping the bar, which turned out to be a nasty pea-green color.

“Oh, dear God, no.” She clamped her mouth shut as he broke
off a piece of the candy and held it to her lips.

“Wafer thin,” he said in a horrid French accent, causing
Sakura to laugh so hard she disturbed a flock of seagulls perching on the
railing. The birds took flight with a chorus of squawks and hisses.

She gave him a curious look. “I didn’t take you for a Monty
Python fan.”

With a wink, Ian took a bite of the Kit Kat, closing his
eyes in rapture as he chewed. “My father is practically obsessed. When I was
young, we used to run around the yard clomping coconuts, pretending to be
Knights of the Round Table. He still makes me watch
The Holy Grail
whenever he gets the chance.” He broke off another piece of the green candy and
offered it to her. “Seriously, it is good.”

Sakura was still not convinced, but she bent closer and
sniffed at the bite in his hand. “Ugh. Smells like horseradish sauce. Why are
these so damn popular anyway?”

“
Kitto katsu
.”

“What?”

“It means great success.” He took another mouthful. “I’m
surprised your parents didn’t teach you Japanese.”

“Papa spent years being completely American. He made Mama
learn English, also, and it was all he would allow spoken in the house. I’m
sure I knew some of the language when I was a child, but I’ve forgotten most
everything.”

Ian touched the candy to her lips. “Taste,” he ordered in a
voice so like her
Bakushi’s
Sakura opened her mouth out of instinct.
Physical attraction thrust its sultry head between them as it had before. To
break the mood Sakura closed her eyes so she couldn’t see the color, bit off a
tiny bit of the candy and chewed, surprised by the sweet and spicy taste. While
she wouldn’t eat it on a daily basis, it was much better than she’d expected.
“Not too bad.”

By this time, Ian had already finished the entire bar and
was reaching for another. “How about the hot chili flavor?”

“Uh-uh, not me. But don’t let that stop you.” She smiled as
he tore open the wrapper and broke off an entire piece of the chocolate-covered
confection before stuffing it into his mouth. “So did you grow up learning both
Japanese and English?”

He shook his head while he chewed. “Not at first. My
mother’s family refused to speak to her after she married an American, and my
father almost refused to let me learn anything about her culture in return. But
about ten years ago my mother’s last nephew passed away and her father, Shoji
Senior, realized I was the only male relative left to take over the business.”

“You call him that?” Sakura was fascinated by Ian’s overly
formal mention of his grandfather and of their families’ similar histories of
alienation.

Ian’s expression shuttered. “We have reached an agreement.
He addresses me by my middle name, Hideo, because Ian is not a proper Japanese
name. In return I refuse to call him Grandfather.”

“But your father is American, right? Why don’t you use his
surname?”

He grunted. The sound was so familiar it brought a sharp
sense of déjà-vu, but she could not place it as he chastised her, causing a
rush of embarrassment to flood her cheeks. “For such a delicate woman you ask
indelicate questions. My legal name is Ian Hideo Shoji-Hayes, and I use it on
all formal documents. But it is too big a mouthful for everyday affairs.”

“So why did you ever consent to take over the business?” Her
curiosity had already overcome her earlier embarrassment.

He sighed and ran his hands down his face in exasperation,
but he answered her willingly. “After some harsh negotiating, my mother
convinced my father she would give anything to be reunited with her family. We
packed up and moved to Japan. Since I had just finished high school and had no
firm plans for the future, I decided to grant my mother her wish and go to meet
the relatives. Once I’d made certain they knew I had no interest in running the
business, I intended to move back to the States. To my shock I was doted on by
my aunts and uncles, loved the way it made my mother happy and came to accept
the country as home.” He paused, his tone growing serious. “There is a beauty
to the culture I never expected and I have learned some…shall we say…very
interesting physical delights.”

His expression dared her to ask, but Sakura found she
couldn’t say a word as her thoughts turned to her
Bashuki
and his
particular brand of pleasure. Would the men like each other, she wondered,
braving a glance at her companion from the corner of her eye. Would Ian be as
fascinated by the ropes, the bondage, the way immobility forced a woman to
submit?

As her body began to hum in arousal, Sakura jumped to her
feet and strode purposefully toward the parking lot. She needed physical
activity, and since sex with Ian was out of the question, exercise would have
to do as a substitution.

“Want to work off that chocolate at the gym?” she demanded
as Ian caught up with her by the car.

“More than you know,” came his cryptic response.

It took barely fifteen minutes to drive to the gym and sign
in. To Sakura’s surprise the personal trainer greeted Ian warmly.

“Closest to my hotel,” he commented, heading for the locker
room. “I will meet you in five minutes and teach you some
wing chun
—fast
hands.”

Sakura was thrilled that Ian had offered to teach her
something new. She was not a stranger to martial arts, having studied the
typical
tae kwon do
in high school and beyond, but Ian’s form of
sparring turned out to be a totally different animal. For starters, it was full
contact.

He laced up her boxing gloves and gave her a smile. “Ready?”

She noticed he did not put on gloves himself. “You plan to
knock me out with the first hit?”

He chuckled and took up ready position. “My aim is perfect.
I will barely lay a hand on you.”

“Right.” She placed herself in ready stance also, her legs
spread hip-width apart with her right foot slightly ahead of the other, arms
held up at shoulder height. But she knew enough not to bob as a boxer would,
instead holding her position steadily as she waited for Ian to make the first
move.

When he did the strike was so quick she didn’t even see his
hand move before his knuckles brushed lightly across her cheek.

Damn,
he was fast.

The second blow landed against her neck as Ian stepped
beside her and spun, his other hand batting her bottom as he passed.

“No funny business,” she warned when he stepped to her front
once more, his palm landing square upon one breast. “Cheap shot. You did that
on purpose.”

He had the decency to bow his head, and when he did Sakura
punched with her left fist, aiming for the side of his jaw. She didn’t even
come close. Her blow hit air as he whirled away, smacking her on her ass once
more, this time strong enough to actually sting.

“Enough.” Sakura dropped her hands to her sides. “Go find
another patsy while I pretend this weight bag is you.” She stepped over to the
heavy hanging bag and wrapped her arms around it, ramming her knee solidly into
the vinyl exactly where a man’s private parts would be.

This time Ian laughed aloud. “Remind me not to take you on
in kickboxing.”

Just then an amazingly attractive man crossed the gym toward
them. He was taller than Ian by a head with a thickly muscled chest and biceps
to die for. But Sakura could see the mass of scar tissue that disappeared
beneath the sleeve of his t-shirt and could not miss the way he favored one leg
over the other. With his military haircut and his massive body build she
guessed he was a soldier. That he’d seen combat was evidenced by his injuries.

He smiled at Ian before turning his amazingly blue eyes on
her. “Ty Brisson,” he introduced himself. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

Sakura blinked in surprise. Ty Brisson? As in relative of
Manette Brisson who ran the Red Mask? And the man was every bit as regal as the
woman, despite his wounded state.

“Sakura Nakao.” She held out her hand, giggling when she
realized she was still wearing the clumsy boxing gloves. “Pleased to meet you.”

His hands were wrapped in gloves as thick as hers, she noted
as they bumped fists together. “And you,
ma cherie
.”

His French accent was nearly her undoing. Sakura had a
sudden picture of Ty holding her immobile in his burly arms while her
Bakushi
tied her up in silk, before both men ran their hands and tongues over every
inch of her body.

The image became even more intense when Ian and Ty began to
spar. Ian was faster than the bigger man by far, but Ty matched him in skill, landing
one heavy blow for every two Ian rained down upon his shoulders—although Ty’s
mouth thinned every time one of Ian’s fists made contact.

Sakura found herself fantasizing that the men were fighting
for her favor, although a tie would be the most satisfying ending. Then both
men could declare themselves the winner and she could lavish her favors on them
equally.

As she continued to indulge herself in her erotic thoughts,
she grew uncomfortably aware of Ian as a potential sexual partner. So far,
despite the occasional sting between her legs, she had managed to keep to the
initial parameters of their relationship, appreciating his friendship and
companionship without the messy encumbrance of a physical liaison.

And her encounters with her teacher at the Red Mask
satisfied her strongest erotic needs. But where her
Bakushi
was stern
and cold and demanding, Ian was much more fun and entertaining. Why couldn’t
she wrap both men into one?

Ian was handsome and kept his body in prime condition. She,
on the contrary, was certain she had gained at least ten pounds over the past
couple of years from her fondness for burgers and crispy french fries. Which
spurred her to attack the weight bag with renewed force. If she was going to
fantasize about making love to both men, she was determined they should
fantasize about making love to her.

By the time they were ready to leave the gym, Sakura had
sweated out any leftover sexual energy. She dropped Ian off at his hotel before
heading home to watch the video and turn her full attention to learning the Tea
Ceremony as quickly as she could.