Hong Kong Heat (2 page)

It was the guy from the hotel. No snazzy suit, but black running shorts and a black sleeveless vest that shouted serious runner to her. As he approached along the track, she couldn’t help but admire—and drool at—the way he moved. His short hair had curled in the heat and the sheen of sweat over his body highlighted the muscles in his arms and the strength of his legs. She’d bet he had a washboard stomach and a cute ass.

Dammit, cease and desist drooling, woman, you’ll embarrass yourself.
Nevertheless, she took a step back to wait for him to pass.

There was a grunt of pain from behind her. Deb turned to see an elderly lady, with perfectly coiffed white hair and wearing an elegant linen suit, rub her ankle.

“Oh, heavens, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t watching what I was doing. Have I hurt you badly?” Debra was appalled at her clumsiness. First day there and injuring the natives wasn’t a good start.

The lady laughed. “Don’t worry, no lasting damage and I wasn’t paying attention either. I was waiting for Gorgeous George to go by.” She inclined her head toward the guy who was a few yards away.

“George?”

The lady rolled her eyes. “No idea if that’s his name, but he sure is gorgeous. Sexy Steve, Hot Bod Harry, take your pick. I see him most evenings and it makes my day.” She waved at the man who grinned and waved back, before he slowed to almost a halt.

“Hi, gorgeous, you ready to run away with me yet?”

The lady cackled. “I’m too much of a woman for you, honey.”

“Too true, my loss.” He looked straight at Debra and winked. “How about it?”

Deb bit back a snigger. “Depends what ‘it’ you mean.” She blushed. Was she actually bandying innuendo with a stranger? A much younger than her stranger. Her kids would be horrified.
Tough, it’s only a ships that pass in the night thing.

He jogged in a circle. “Up to you, honey.” He waved, increased his speed and moved away.

The older lady sighed. “See what I mean? Fit as hell. I think Gorgeous George has the hots for you. The Jie Jies will be disappointed.”

“The what?” Debra hadn’t heard that expression before.

“Jie Jies, sisters, people who look after the family. Like Ayis, or Amahs. It’s a very Hong Kong expression. My Jie Jie was a darling. Ah well, back to my Angus and a cuddle. He might not be as slim as Georgie boy, but he won’t wear me out. Mind you our Mr. Mysterious does make me quiver and even wonder if I could take up jogging at my advanced age.”

Debra knew just what she meant. Trust her to fancy a fitness freak. Debra was the first to admit that her idea of fitness was to abstain from eating three extra chocolate biscuits and run up the stairs rather than walk.

She sighed. Ah well, she knew what the lady meant about having her day made. There was no two ways about it, the guy was sex on legs and the sort of man to make you roll over and shout ‘play your cards right and you can have me’.

With a mental shrug at her fanciful notions, she took her life into her hands to cross the road and dodge pedestrians, cars and trams, and walk back to the hotel. As if someone like that would pay more than passing attention to a middle-aged overweight lady who could give him several years. Let alone listen to her telling
him
to play his cards right.

Oh well, I can dream.
But dreaming led to a damp
crotch and a need for
relief. Debra made her way into her suite, dragged her clothes off and indulged in a well needed self-induced orgasm that left her hot, sweaty and pleased that she was gifted with a great imagination. Her mystery man had featured heavily, as she used her hands to tease her clit and fall over the edge.

Never had a shower been so welcome. Debra let the lukewarm water stream over her, soaking her hair and body, and reveled in the tingles that still shook her.

The water stung her climax-sensitive skin as she rubbed shower gel over herself. It was worth it and in lieu of the real thing, not half bad.

Her tummy rumbled to remind her not to linger. Debra switched off the shower and toweled herself dry. It didn’t take long to dress and with her laptop under her arm, she made her way to the residents’ lounge for a welcome cocktail.

She couldn’t help the way she scanned the room to see if a certain blond head stood out from the mix of people seated there.

It didn’t. The lump of disappointment that hit her like a lead weight was way too over the top for such a few brief glimpses of someone who, for all she knew, could be a serial ax murderer.

Ah well, obviously not a guest any longer. If he had been in the first place. Grow up and get over it. And quit thinking worst case scenarios. He might have been an eccentric millionaire on his way to Bora Bora or somewhere exotic, with a harem and thirteen Chihuahuas waiting for him in that stretch limo I saw in the street.

The thought amused her all the way through her rum punch and dumpling nibbles, as she listened to an amazing duo playing and singing popular classics.

It put her in a great mood as she elected to eat in the lounge and not bother with the dining room. It was one of the bonuses of an executive suite and she might as well enjoy it. The room was small and intimate and probably less intimidating to eat in alone.

Not that it bothered Debra overmuch. As ever she had her laptop to write her diary on and catch up with her emails and her eReader with whatever she fancied reading at the ready.

It didn’t stop her taking a surreptitious glance at every new occupant. None were tall, blond and drop dead gorgeous.

Debra put him out of her mind and enjoyed her chicken and rice instead. Combined with a good dry Australian white wine and rounded off by fruit, she felt nicely full but not stuffed. After declining a liqueur or coffee, Debra took herself back to her suite. It had been a long day.

It became even longer. So sure that she’d be tired and want an early night, Debra clambered into bed before ten and turned the light off by half past. To lie awake with her mind buzzing.

Half an hour later, she accepted that sleep wasn’t on her agenda any time soon and got out of bed and slipped on her sundress. She’d take herself up to the garden and spend a few minutes looking at the city by night. Maybe some fresh air and a circuit of the walking path would make her sleepy.

The corridor was quiet and the lift arrived within seconds. Not much more than ten minutes since she’d thrown back the duvet, Debra opened the door to the terrace. The area was dimly lit with just enough light to show where the paths and flowerbeds were.

She took a deep breath to savor the night-scented flowers and the warm air. From the street below, a car honked its horn and engines revved. The clatter of a tram drifted up to where Debra stared over the parapet.

The water of the harbor shone in the moonlight and the lights of the boats twinkled and shared their positions with each other. High above, a plane headed toward the airport and as more often than not, the Peak was shrouded in cloud.

Debra acknowledged that there and then, she was at peace with the world. Maybe it was her earlier climax, maybe it was the thought that she would soon see her family again, but she had a perfect sense of contentment.

She turned toward the pool area and leaned on the gate to look over into the water.

The gate opened and nearly deposited her knees first on the floor. Either the lock was faulty, or someone hadn’t turned the key, because it stated in the hotel information booklet that the pool was locked from dusk to dawn.

Tonight it wasn’t.

Debra bit her lip and considered her options. On the one hand it should be locked and she didn’t want to get anyone in trouble. On the other, it was hot and sticky, the humidity seemed to have descended with dusk and she hadn’t kicked over the traces since the belly dancing and… She shut that thought off.

Sod it, I always said I wanted to swim at midnight.
Actually she’d said from a beach at midnight, but beggars couldn’t be choosers and it was a perfect opportunity. Debra looked down at her sundress. She wasn’t subjecting it to chlorine, but her underwear maybe. Before she had time to change her mind she pulled the dress over her head, flung it on a nearby chair, kicked off her flip-flops and dove in.

Into water as soft as silk and as warm as a perfect bath.

* * * *

Abraham Van Meister, Braam to his friends, Mr. Van Meister to his business associates and ‘that Bloody Van Meister’ to his enemies, of whom he guessed there were more than a few, stretched his arms and yawned. At least he was able to hand the hotel over to the night manager and think about what was going to happen next. A glass of wine and a good night’s sleep he hoped. Sadly not in his own bed. It wasn’t worth the journey out to Sai Kung on the mainland, just to get back for six in the morning. In a few more days he’d be able to leave the new manager to fend for himself whilst Braam had a couple of welcome days away from the hotel. Once away he’d not think about the ex-manager, the ex-head receptionist and a missing several hundreds of thousands of pounds.

As a troubleshooter for the Channing chain, Braam reported directly to Mike Channing, the grandson of the founder and now CEO of the company. He liked and respected Mike who generally let him get on and do his job without interference.

Braam was no stranger to mysteries and underhanded dealings, but why a trusted manager had felt it necessary to abscond with the money and the nothing out of the ordinary head receptionist, he couldn’t understand. There had been no triggers to point to the happenings until Braam had had a phone call from head office, which had interrupted an overdue holiday. It was a plea to cut the vacation short and return to Hong Kong, try to sort things out and help a new manager to settle in.

“Don’t worry if you see our esteemed Head of Human Resources pop by. He’s out in Asia soon and bloody worried like the rest of us about this mess,” Braam had been told by Danielle, Mike’s PA. “Just a heads-up, not that I think you’ll need it.”

So far, Alex Chin had been nowhere to be seen, but he wouldn’t be at all surprised if that changed now that Braam was due to move on.

A few weeks earlier, Braam’s proposed companion on his sun, sea and—hopefully—sex break had made up her mind she wanted the sort of commitment Braam didn’t feel toward her. The upshot was that she had canceled her booking. Therefore he’d had no problem in returning to his home city and the troubled hotel.

Sadly, though, he’d spent more nights sleeping at the hotel than in his house on the outskirts of the fishing village of Sai Kung. Two more nights after this, he promised himself, then three nights in his own bed. Solo, but his.

“All’s well, Sidney,” he said to the serious Chinese man who was the duty night manager. “I’m going to walk around the roof terrace to smell the fresh air, then grab a glass of Merlot and turn in. Ring me if you need me.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Van Meister, but I reckon I’ll not need to. You get a good night’s sleep and I’ll see you in the morning.”

Braam nodded and caught up his jacket to slip his finger through the neck loop and hook it over his shoulder. A few minutes to de-kink his muscles and fill his lungs with fresh, or as fresh as Hong Kong air got, and he’d head to his room and the bottle of wine he had waiting for him there. He wasn’t a big drinker, but a glass of wine as he wound down was welcome.

He ignored the thoughts about a much more pleasurable way to wind down that slid into his mind. One that involved him and the woman he’d seen in the park earlier. The curvy brunette with the cheeky grin had interested him—and his cock—more than a little. She’d stood and watched him run toward her and his body had tightened at the blatant interest he saw in her expression. If he hadn’t been pushed for time, he’d have tried to talk to her for longer. Braam was sure the old lady he spoke to most days had winked at him in encouragement.

He was certain his mystery lady had been checking in when he’d been in the foyer with the new manager earlier that day. However, it hadn’t been possible to find out who she was without seeming like a stalker and making the receptionists wonder what was wrong.

Story of my life. The ones I’m interested in don’t see me and the ones who are interested in me scare me senseless. Or want more than I’ve got to give.
Braam got into the lift and pressed the button for the roof. Ten minutes, he promised himself. Ten mindless stress-reducing minutes and he’d turn in.

The lift slid to a halt and Braam got out and walked toward the edge of the building. He loved it up there at night, when the sounds of the city were muted and the stars vied with the city lights to illuminate the sky.

Tonight the sky was almost cloudless, except for the Peak’s semi-permanent veil and it was bright enough to see his way around the garden using the few security lights that came on automatically at dusk.

As he reached the entrance into the pool area, he heard splashing and noticed that the gate was open.

He took a step toward it then hesitated. The area should be locked and secure, but by the sound of it, someone had managed to unlock the gate. If his ears didn’t deceive him, that person was swimming.

Braam’s first thought was anger and that someone needed a kick up the arse for negligence. His second was that whoever it was swimming couldn’t sing for toffee. The off-key rendition of ‘Just Keep Swimming’ from
Finding Nemo
was excruciating. It stopped mid verse and there was a loud splash then silence. Braam pushed open the door to the pool area and looked at the rippled surface of the water. A few bubbles popped up from the depths but the singer-swimmer was nowhere to be seen.

He waited anxiously as the seconds passed. All he could see were those damned bubbles
. Shit, had they drowned singing that stupid song?
There was nothing for it
.
Braam pulled his shirt over his head and heard buttons pop and roll over the floor tiles, as he dragged it from his body and threw it over a handy bush.

Bloody hell, why me?
He fumbled with his belt buckle and drew the belt through the loops that held it in place before he grasped the tag of his zip and lowered it.