Ice Blue - Anne Stuart [94]
“Of course,” Reno said, pushing away from the table.
“Take off the kimono, Summer,” Taka said, grabbing at the shoulders to pull it from her.
She grabbed back. “I’m not wearing anything underneath it!” she protested.
“Americans,” Reno muttered under his breath, stomping from the room. A moment later he was back, tossing a cotton yukata at her. “Put this on and I’ll find your boyfriend a map.”
She grabbed the blue-and-white cotton and started for the bathroom, but Taka’s hands were still on her shoulders. “You can change here.”
“I’m not—!” But he’d already slipped the kimono off her shoulders, and with a shriek she pulled Reno’s over her nude body.
Reno laughed, saying something in Japanese, doubtless another insult, Summer thought as she tied the sash around her waist.
“I told you, hands off,” Taka said in English.
Well, maybe it hadn’t been that insulting, Summer thought, turning around. Reno had tossed the priceless antique kimono to the floor and Taka laid out Hana-san’s present in its place. The familiar painting, one Summer had known most of her life, suddenly took on new meaning as Taka spread a map beside it.
“Grandfather was right,” Reno said. “She did tell you where it was.”
“And I was right. She didn’t know,” Taka retorted. “Look at this, Summer. The mountain Hana-san painted is right there—” he pointed at the map “—and the torii gate is lower down, just outside the town of Tonazumi. The ruins of the shrine must be somewhere between.”
“Good thing it’s not been that bad a winter. There can be snow in the mountains,” Reno said.
“You think a little snow will stop someone like the Shirosama?”
“That crazy old coot? He’s harmless.”
“No,” Summer said. “He’s not.”
Reno looked at her for a long, contemplative moment, then back at Taka. “I’m going out,” he said abruptly. “I’ll be back in the morning. We can work out the details then.” He was already at the door, shoving his feet back into his boots, putting the sunglasses down over his extraordinary eyes. “You can use my bed,” he added with a grin, and then he was gone, the door closing behind him.
22
“I’ll use Reno’s bed,” Taka said absently, still staring at the kimono. “You can take the futon.”
“Why? Is his bed as scary as his toilet?”
He turned to look at her. Her encounter with Reno didn’t seem to have daunted her, but then, she wasn’t easily daunted. He didn’t like to see her wrapped in Reno’s yukata. More of that irrational macho bullshit that was running through his veins recently. He still couldn’t believe he’d hit his cousin, for suggesting something they’d actually done when they were younger. But that had just been sex with a willing young woman, and Taka understood sex very well. He just didn’t understand what was going on between him and Summer Hawthorne.
He could blame his mysterious American father for it, he supposed. His Japanese side was much more pragmatic; sex was healthy, athletic, not to be confused with practicalities like marriage and business and the important things in life. He preferred his sex undiluted with emotions, feelings, and up until now he’d managed that very well.
His future wife would be perfect for that. She was exquisite, graceful, controlled and athletic in bed. They would have the perfect marriage, and his grandfather, if he couldn’t accept Taka, might finally accept his children.
Unfortunately, his grandfather could go fuck himself, as Taka had politely suggested just an hour ago. The old man had connections, including his brother, Great-uncle Hiro, and once he knew Taka had returned to Japan, he’d tracked down his cell phone number, an impressive feat. A mistake, however. Taka had been too concerned with catching Reno before he came home to find Summer in his apartment, and demands about marriage contracts weren’t on the top of his priority list. Or his grandfather’s long-withheld approval, he’d realized. The wedding