Roaring Hot! (Contemporary Romance): A Billionaire Biker Romance (18 page)

Amy had no choice but to thank Teo’s mother and follow Sister Nora to the gate of the convent.

Teo bobbed on a bright cloud cradled in white fuzzy globes of light. All around him was comfort and love, a feeling of well-being. An incredible glow of iridescent beauty rose on the horizon in front of him like a multicolored sunrise, drawing him with soothing sounds: water trickling in a creek, bird song, and the chirrups of night bugs.

He’d never thought about God, except that his mother served Him. If God was in that beauty, that transparent, glowing place of peace, he could now understand why his mother would forsake him, a mere baby boy. What was he compared to the glory of God?

The fuzzy pillows he lay on radiated love, and he absorbed it hungrily. Someone loved him, someone in the globes of light caressing him. He reached for her, but found no one, yet he was bathed in the peace and acceptance of her true love.

Harsh voices mumbled in back of him, disturbing the globes around him. He turned and darkness swamped him. A black mist expanded menacingly, yanking his arms and legs, pulling him apart. He fought against it, struggling to return to the warm, soft globes.

A female voice caught up to him. “Teo, can you hear me? Open your eyes, Teo. Wake up.”

What was she talking about? Teo’s eyes were wide open. He was wide awake. He put his head down and swam against the tide pulling him under. The light remained in the distance, flickering. He desperately wanted the peace and beauty of God and the comforting clouds of love.

Would he find his mother there? Was she already there? Perhaps she couldn’t see him at the convent because she had already passed on.

“Nanay,” he called her by the Filipino word for mother.

It was the only Filipino word he knew.

“My love for you is better served by praying than being with you. I have always prayed for you, day and night.”

“I want you to be with me, Nanay. I will die to be with you.”

The beauty was gone. Black streaks slashed across the clouds, and the fuzzy globes quivered and scattered.

“Teo, I love you. I didn’t know it then, but I know now. Be with me, Teo. Just be.” This voice was different, pleading with him. It was soft and very feminine. Who was it?

Teo closed his eyes, struggling to breathe. A heavy weight pressed on his chest and claws tore his skin. Sharp teeth gouged his flesh, and pain raged through his arms and hands.

“Snap out of it.” A sharp sting slapped his face. “A warrior fights. He doesn’t give up.”

Sweat burned every nerve and pain sharpened, drawing huge knives through him. He gasped for air, his lungs burning. The roar and rumble of motorcycles buzzed around and around, never ending. Where was the peace? The beauty? The love?

He jerked himself, forcing his heavy eyelids to open.

Everything disappeared, except for the beeps and whirs of electronic devices.

“Teo’s awake. Teo’s back. Oh, thank God.”

His vision cleared and a young woman smiled at him. What was her name?

A herd of strange faces peered down at him. Someone shined a bright pointed light in his eyes.

“Stop it.” His mouth and throat were parched.

“What is your name?” One of the faces asked.

“Teo?”

“What year is it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you know me?” Oba-chan shook him.

“Yes, Oba-chan.”

“How about me?” The younger woman peered at him.

He didn’t know. She was pretty. He shut his eyes. Too tired. He wanted to go back to the clouds of love and beauty.

* * *

The next time Teo woke, he knew what had happened. He was in a hospital room, and his sister Tasha was at his side.

She caressed his face. “You were out for almost a week. We were so scared.”

“The race? Did I miss it?” He raised his left arm and found it in a cast. “What am I doing here?”

“You crashed, but you’re going to be okay. Let me tell Oba-chan’s driver to bring her in.” She texted a message and slipped her phone into her purse.

Teo grabbed a cup of water and wet his lips. “Tell me what happened.”

“Rampini cut you off when you tried to pass and you went flying. You barely missed getting run over.”

Teo tested his toes, wiggling them and moved to sit. Every muscle and bone ached, but he seemed to be able to move.

“You were lucky,” Tasha said. “No spinal injury, a broken arm, and bleeding in your brain. That caused the coma. You came out of it yesterday when me and Oba-chan were visiting.”

“Just you two? Was my mother here? I heard her voice.”

Tasha’s eyes popped wide. “No, she wasn’t. You must have dreamed it.”

“There was someone else, but I don’t remember who.” A sense of gloom pressed down on him and he struggled. The vision was right around the corner, but just out of reach. Someone lost, wandering around, someone important. “She was there. Are you sure there was no one else?”

“No one but me and Oba-chan, unless you saw an angel.” Tasha patted his hand. “The doctors say you might have near term amnesia. What’s the last thing you remember?”

“I must have crashed. I broke my finger and toe.”

“That was the last time.” Tasha’s eyebrows drew together. “What month is it?”

“April, no, May.”

“It’s August.” She pursed her lips. “I better get the doctor.”

“August?” Teo palmed the top of his head. “I don’t remember anything after Le Mans.”

“Le Mans was mid-May. You crashed in Indianapolis last week.” Tasha woke her tablet and showed Teo the date. “It’s okay. It should come back to you. We’re just happy you’re awake.”

“Yeah, I’m happy to be back too.” Teo leaned forward to let her kiss his forehead. “Can’t wait to talk to Oba-chan. Wonder what she wants for her birthday this year.”

* * *

Amy was back home after her disastrous trip to the Philippines. Teo’s mother was a real piece of work. How could anyone believe it was better to pray for a son rather than take care of him?

Thankfully she hadn’t told anyone outside of her family why she was gone. It would hurt Teo too much to know how little his mother cared and to have it confirmed yet again.

She should have left well alone. Now she was stuck keeping another secret from him.

She texted Tasha, the only member of Teo’s family who still spoke to her.

Any update?

A few minutes later, she received a reply.
He’s awake. Very confused.

Amy jumped from her bed. A flood of relief bathed over her. She dialed Tasha’s number.

“He’s okay? Thank God. Can I see him? Do you think your grandmother would let me?”

“Uh, well, Oba-chan’s furious with you and Ronaldo for cooking up the fake relationship. I know it wasn’t your idea, but she believes what she wants.”

“How’s Teo? What does he say?”

Silence stretched across the line.

“Tasha, you still there?” Amy’s stomach clenched and she sank onto her bed. “Is it bad? Is he still mad at me?”

“He doesn’t remember you. He doesn’t remember anything after Le Mans, the race in France middle of May.”

“You mean everything’s wiped out?”

“You, the reality show, bringing a girlfriend to Oba-chan’s party. He even asked me what Oba-chan wanted for her birthday this year. He had no clue. Honestly, when he first woke up, I don’t think he even knew who I was. The only person he recognized was our grandmother.”

“Oh … well, I guess that means he doesn’t remember what I did to him. He won’t know I caused him to crash.”

“The doctors say it’s common to lose a chunk of memory, especially the things that happened immediately before the trauma. He may not ever regain it.”

“Guess it’s good I was only a fake girlfriend.” Amy’s heart cracked and splintered into a million pieces. She’d lost Teo forever.

“Yep. And obviously Oba-chan’s not asking him to bring a girlfriend to her party anymore. When he asked her what she wanted, she told him she wanted to take him on a tour of Japan.”

“Is she well enough to go?”

“Why wouldn’t she be?” Tasha sounded puzzled.

“Teo said she had lymphoma, that she had three to six months to live.”

“Seriously?” Tasha chuckled. “I bet it’s part of his story to get you to go along with the fake girlfriend bit.”

“It sounded so real, though.”

“He probably got it from one of Oba-chan’s fictional characters. She writes novels in Japanese.” Tasha snickered, sounding amused. “Sheesh. I’m sorry, but my brother’s a real rascal.”

You can say that again.
Amy wanted to curl up in a little ball and hide under her blankets. Even if he had actually had feelings for her, had loved her, he most certainly didn’t remember it now.

He wouldn’t even recognize her if she walked by him on the street. He might wonder about her text messages and emails, or her contact information on his phone. But a guy like Teo had many women friends and acquaintances. He wouldn’t miss her.

“Thanks Tasha, for telling me all this. I’m glad he’s recovered. I guess it won’t work to say ‘hi’ to him from me.”

“I’ll mention it. See what he says.”

“No, please don’t. I’d like to stay in touch with you and check up on him from time to time, but I’ll stay out of his life.”

“Sure, email or call whenever you want. I liked hanging out with you.”

“Send me pictures when you can.”

“I will. Gotta go.”

Amy hung up. Teo was okay. She should be happy. She was happy. He would recover and go on racing. It served her right to be wiped out by that concussion. It was her punishment.

Her cruel punishment—to love a man who wouldn’t be able to pick her out of a lineup.

Six months later.

“Your fan mail.” Amy’s personal assistant, Mia Fairbanks, staggered into her room, dumping a stack of gaily colored envelopes and postcards addressed to Akiko Yamada, her character’s name.

It was mid-February, and the Japanese guesthouse she stayed at had the perfect view of Mt. Fuji. They’d been on site for a week so far, shooting scenes in the snow covered forest at its base. Some of the days had been snowy and foggy, but today glowed brilliant, and the air was clear and crisp.

The locals were excited about the filming of the popular
Dark Samurai
series, and Amy had already made several appearances at area hospitals and festivals. Heck, she’d even gathered marriage proposals. The men were hot and definitely cute, but Amy had no heart to pursue a relationship.

Her acting career was taking off, and she’d learned the Zen of acting—being in the moment with her fellow actors on stage and responding to them as the story unfolded, rather than worrying about what came next or quarterbacking herself on how to portray an emotion correctly. Many times, she’d be so into the scene, she was shocked when the director yelled “cut” and brought her crashing back to real life.

Amy flipped through the mail and sorted them. Part of being a star was to love her fans. People still appreciated handwritten notes. She couldn’t keep up with all of them, which was why she’d hired Mia. Besides, her colorful outlook in life was the best medicine to keep her from pining for Teo, a man who had no memory of her.

“Remember you donated twenty-thousand to the Wishes Come True Foundation?” Mia threw an envelope at her.

“They want more money?”

“Uh, no. More like they want you in a talent show.”

“I have no talent other than acting. I can’t sing, or dance, or do magic.” Amy opened the envelope and flipped through the brochure.

She blinked back tears at the glossy picture of her and Teo on stage, he in his Elvis impersonator costume and she looking star struck and in love. If she’d known then that her feelings had been real, not manufactured, she would have treated him better.

Mia looked over her shoulder. “I wonder what he thinks when he sees these pictures.”

“They’ve probably told him he had a stint in a reality show, and I was his costar.” Amy ran her finger over Teo’s face. “One question. What’s he up to these days? Do you keep in touch with Ronaldo?”

“That’s two questions.” Mia flipped her braided weave over her shoulder and tied them under a paisley patterned turban. “Teo’s practicing for the circuit, but his times are too slow to qualify for motoGP. Maybe next year he’ll make a comeback.”

“I knew that already. I follow the blogs.”

“Oh, you want to know if he has a girlfriend?” Mia’s white teeth gleamed from behind her bright, cherry red lips. “Word has it he’s seeing someone long distance.”

Amy’s scalp crawled with prickly spikes and her heart crashed and splatted in her gut. “What does Ronaldo say?”

“Teo won’t tell him anything. Just says he doesn’t want to waste his time going to parties and dating hot models.” Mia shrugged. “He’s always videoconferencing and writes long letters by hand. He even flew off somewhere without telling anyone. It’s all hush, hush.”

Not what she wanted to hear. As the months had passed, she lost more and more hope. At first, she imagined he would get his memory back and call her. Then she figured he remembered, but deliberately refused to acknowledge her. Finally, she received a Christmas card simply addressed, “To Amy, my costar. Merry Christmas.”

“Well, I’m glad he found someone. He had a tough year.” Amy shoved the mail into a basket. “Guess I’ll turn in early tonight. Make sure to wake me for my meditation time.”

“Okie doke, boss.” Mia checked her phone. “Oh, wait. I almost forgot. You’re supposed to visit a heart patient, Kazuo, and his mother. I set you up at a tea house.”

Amy brushed back the edge of annoyance, taking a calming, centering breath. “Am I supposed to serve tea? I don’t know the tea ceremony.”

“Relax. They have hired tea servers. They do want you to wear a kimono. After all, you are Akiko Yamada, daughter of the lord samurai.”

Amy was exhausted after the day’s shoot, but she couldn’t deny the young boy his dream. After all, everyone deserved to have a wish come true.

* * *

Amy arrived at the tea house, a pavilion set over a partially frozen pond. She washed her hands and left her shoes outside and donned a pair of white
tabis
, or thick soled Japanese socks. She bowed before crawling through a small door onto the heated floor covered with tatami mats. Kazuo and his mother had not arrived.

Amy bowed in front of the traditional scroll depicting two kanji characters, a horizontal line signifying ‘one’ and the complicated brushstrokes for ‘love,’ which included the word ‘heart’ in the center.

The boy’s mother had chosen the scroll to have everyone at the ceremony meditate on her pure love for her son. Hopefully it meant her son’s heart condition could be healed. Amy said a small prayer for him under her breath.

A geisha was already in place, kneeling in front of the tea apparatus, an iron pot sunk into the hearth in the middle of the room, her back toward the entrance. The room had a pleasant fragrance from the incense cone lit under the tea pot, and a soundtrack of traditional
koto
music looped in the background.

Her hair pinned up in the traditional style, Amy knelt at the side of a table where the tea-making tools rested. She calmed her mind in quiet contemplation. A tea ceremony was not a place to engage in casual conversation, but one of connection between the participants in a deeper way, recognizing the interdependence of all beings and nature. Its essence was the shared experience, the oneness and closeness of acceptance, of being one with each other and the universe.

The door to the tea room slid open and a large figure entered, probably Kazuo’s mother. Amy kept her eyes to the ground, concentrating on her meditation.

After the second guest moved to the scroll and bowed, the geisha crawled out the door. Strange. Amy swallowed and kept her breathing steady. If they expected her to serve, they’d be sorely disappointed. She had no idea of the ritual and the order of cleaning the utensils.

The second guest settled at the tea table across from her. He was wearing a man’s black kimono with the lowered
obi
, a broad sash.

Amy raised her eyes and blinked right before her heart catapulted to the top of Mt. Fuji and her awareness sharpened to a single point of focus.

Teo knelt in front of her.

His eyes connected with hers, and sparks zapped between them. Warmth overflowed her, and she yearned to ask him a million questions, except that would destroy the Zen of the moment.

The only thing that mattered was he would share the tea with her and be in the present with her, joined in space and time.

He bowed and offered her a dish of dainty sweets: small treats made of
mochi
, glutinous rice, with delectable fillings. She bowed to him and accepted the dish, her heart aching with expectation. Was he here because he remembered her? Would he restart their relationship, or was this a way of closing the circle?

Teo began the ritualized cleansing of the utensils, taking his time. Each step was choreographed by ancient tradition and steeped with meaning.

He scooped the
matcha
, powdered green tea, into the earthenware bowl, then added hot water from the pot with a long white ladle.

Amy tried to remain solemn and calm, but her heartbeat was pitter pattering with the voice of a thousand raindrops. The treats were sweet on her lips, and the aroma of tea and incense wrapped her in a bubble of rapture. She etched every movement and sensation into her memory to store as a treasure.

After whisking the bright green tea, Teo held the bowl, rotated it and handed it to Amy. Her eyes never leaving his, she inhaled the steam of the soothing tea. Her heart opened as she drank the tea, letting it enter her mouth, filling it with the essence of life.

She swallowed, licking her lips, her tongue tingling. The tea was fragrant, like sweet nuts and fresh grass. She watched his expression as she turned the bowl to give him a clean side away from where her mouth had touched.

With a half-grin, he turned the bowl back to the spot she’d drank from. His eyes were half closed, but still holding her gaze. He kissed the rim and inhaled the noble aroma of the tea, then drank their shared moment in time.

He set the bowl down. The impact was meaningful, the connection deep. The tea tied them together in the here and now, stretching to forever.

Amy reached for Teo’s hand as he reached for her. Their fingers laced together, and their lips joined over the bowl of steaming tea.

* * *

The ceremony was over, but what it started would never end. Amy lingered over the kiss, restraining herself to keeping it chaste and sweet.

She had a lot of questions for this so-called Kazuo. For one, did he ever meet his mother? And more importantly, when did he remember her? And what did this reunion mean?

The kiss was hopeful, but with men the way they were, she could never be too sure. She held her tongue until they exited the tea house and donned their heavy coats and boots.

“May we talk now?” She shook his arm. “The moment inside was too special for words.”

“It was.” Teo hugged her and dotted a kiss on her forehead. “I hope it was the beginning of many more moments with you.”

“Same here, except when did you remember, and why didn’t you contact me?”

“Too many questions.” He squeezed her tight against his body and started walking. “The house where I’m staying is around the corner. Why don’t I do my explaining in there?”

Typical man, evading her questions. But he was with her, physically present. Wasn’t that what was important? And if Zen meditation taught her anything, she should let go of wants, desires, and worries.

Arm, in arm, they crunched through the snow, inhaling the scent of the pine trees and the purity of the mountain air. Dusk was falling, but the view of Mt. Fuji was breathtaking. The snowcapped peak glowed pink under the purple skies. This was indeed a sublime moment.

They lingered, joined in a deep embrace, as the sky darkened. Amy could feel every breath he took, every beat of his heart. She willed the earth to stop turning, to be frozen with him forever, encased in his arms.

Darkness encroached as the evening deepened. The headlamps of a car snapped her back to the present. They walked over a bridge and approached the guesthouse.

“Hey, this is where I’m staying.” Amy poked Teo’s side. “Were you stalking me?”

He greeted that remark with an enigmatic smile. “A little. Let’s get inside where it’s warm.”

The guesthouse was furnished in the traditional Japanese style, with mats, low furniture, and papered windows. Teo’s section, however, was more luxurious than the area she stayed, which had probably been converted from servant quarters, back when this house was a lord daimyo’s domain.

As with good Japanese design, the décor was minimalistic and uncluttered, designed to soothe the spirit.

Teo helped Amy out of her coat and boots. She stepped through the door, observing the fine details of his suite. A winter arrangement of
ikebana
, a formal Japanese flower arrangement, sat in the center of the table, and the
shoji
, or sliding screen, leading to the sleeping area was covered with a serene landscape of pine trees and mountain peaks.

With a hand on her lower back, Teo slid the screen to the bedroom and guided Amy toward the king sized futon. He certainly wasn’t wasting his time.

Amy’s pulse jittered and her cheeks flushed hot. The room was spare, bright and romantic, one wall covered with papered windows. A small bonsai sat on a black lacquered table with a tea set. Delicate paper lanterns hung over the sleeping area, and a lotus flower-shaped incense burner added the heady scent of sandalwood and orchids.

Suddenly shy, Amy hardly dared to look at Teo. Dressed in a manly black kimono, he appeared like the hero in her new series, the Dark Samurai, who had yet to be revealed. He would be an enemy of her character’s father, seeking revenge for a dishonor done to his family centuries ago.

Amy brushed by Teo to admire the willow branch arrangement on the wall, but he snagged her and yanked on her giant
obi
bow. His eyes were fierce on her, deep with a painful mixture of want and denial.

Nervous tension crackled over Amy’s body. “Stop it, this took Mia hours to fix.”

“Too bad.” Teo untied his sash and shrugged the top of his kimono off his shoulders.

He wanted her, but in what capacity? As a fling with the star of
The Dark Samurai
? Bragging rights? Or to rekindle their
Romancing the Racer
fiasco?

His eyes intent on her, he tugged at the hem of his body-hugging tank shirt. In a split second, he lifted it over his head and cast it on the futon bed.

Amy gasped. Mesmerized, she moved to touch the tattoo on his chest. It was an woodcut of a Japanese girl smiling behind a fan in her hand.

“You like it?” he clasped her hand. “It’s the woman of my heart.”

The kanji characters for love and beauty were arrayed artistically around the portrait—of her. “Me?”

“Yes, Manami, beautiful love,” Teo muttered the meaning of her Japanese name. “And I’m Kazuo, one husband.”

“Teo Kazuo Alexiou.”