Her Unexpected Affair. Shea McMaster
to marry. Tonight was her last night to be free from the five thousand years of tradition that had suffocated her most of her life.
Tomorrow night, at a classy hotel, wearing something closer to traditional and more modest than her current very short, peek-a-boo, red lace dress, with a carefully selected guest list of the San Francisco elite of the Chinese-American population and a few others tossed in—mostly her father’s esteemed business associates—she’d officially sign the contract and accept the proposal of a man who’d been groomed his whole life to take over his family’s dynasty. Shan Lin, as the Americans would call him. Lin Shan if one were being traditional. A man ten years her senior, he was ready to take a wife. She was the one chosen by their two families.
At least Shan didn’t seem to object to her career, although it had been made clear to her she was expected to produce the all-important heir and a spare, or three, to cement the family future. At thirty-three she was very nearly at the end of her time to be fruitful, in the words of her mother. The time to have babies was now. They’d find a way to indulge her career as an interior designer along the way. Or not.
Never mind she had an active client list with people waiting up to a year for her to be free to decorate their homes, offices, and condos with the very best in Asian décor mixed with her own eclectic touch of European antiquity and Modernist utility. The crème of the crop sought her out, looking for that mix of dignity and style. People who appreciated the truly fine antiques from three continents and multiple countries mixed with tasteful modern treasures. No one disputed her talent for finding just the right balance of color, style, and sophistication to fit every client.
How that would work with a nursery full of the next generation, she had no clue. Especially since she had little experience with rug rats. Somehow the mother gene had never made a connection with her biological clock. No alarms ringing there.
Shan Lin was everything a modern woman should want in a husband. He was relatively tall, handsome, solid in build but kept in shape with mixed martial arts, could cement a deal in the boardroom that made all parties feel as if they’d come out on top, knew how to dance at formal occasions, and even made time to spend weekends out on the bay on the impressive sailboat he moored at the St. Francis Yacht Club. He could talk politics with the men without offending anyone, hold court with the ladies and make each one feel as if only she held his attention. He could even charm those under ten.
It didn’t hurt he’d even had the good taste to hire her to decorate his condo. It had been a big job, including public rooms and private. He’d left many details to her, accepting her suggestions with few demands. In fact, he’d been as close to a perfect client as she’d ever had. Large budget, interested in the best without being ostentatious, and didn’t get in her way too much. Especially since he’d been away on business during the bulk of the work. They’d met in his condo twice. Once when she showed him her design boards and again when the work was done. In between they’d communicated by e-mail, and she’d kept him up to date with digital photos. She could easily argue she knew his housekeeper and secretary better than she knew him.
On paper he was the perfect man.
In reality, he left her yawning.
Her mother and many of her friends thought she was crazy.
Hell, even she thought she was crazy at times. Certainly missing some streak of romance that would allow her to see him for the perfect specimen he was.
Although, she had to ask herself, if he was so perfect, why had he remained unmarried up to the ripe old age of forty-three? What made her so special that suddenly he had stars in his eyes only for her? They’d never even had a date. She didn’t count the dinner with both sets of their parents the previous month when she’d learned of their desire to facilitate a marriage between her and Shan. An idea that had left her blinking in surprise. Hadn’t seen that one coming, but on reflection, she’d decided, why not?
Even before he’d hired her, they’d crossed paths at social events, both of them networking their way across the room and occasionally sitting at the same table through endless rubber chicken dinners making small talk. She knew who he was, his reputation in the community, what charities he contributed to. He’d always been polite and not too forward, although she’d caught a certain appreciation in his eyes when she caught him looking at her. Once his regard from across the room had made her blush. But she’d turned and seen a very beautiful socialite behind her and decided his gaze had not been for her at all.
Meilin’s parents had known his parents long before either of them had been born. The family friendship, or business relationship to be honest, probably went back to the days when their great-grandparents and grandparents had immigrated from China. Back then the families had stuck together, building Chinatown from the ground up, building their business interests from extremely humble beginnings to the very top of the social ladder.
Their families weren’t unique in that legacy. Hundreds of families had done the same. And although she’d asked her mother what had suddenly made her stand out from so many other eligible women as the only one for him, she’d never received a satisfying answer.
Tomorrow she’d ask her mother again and possibly the question would be answered at the engagement bash for three hundred of their closest friends. Could it be during their first dance together she’d feel a spark of attraction?
The waitress arrived with the half dozen drinks, and Meilin handed over her credit card. “Run us a tab, will you, Junlei? And get the next round set up, please.”
“Sure thing. Who’s the celebration for tonight?”
“That would be me. Getting engaged tomorrow.”
“Lucky girl!”
Meilin shrugged. “I guess. My parents think so.”
Junlei set down the last drink. “Arranged, eh?” Sympathy filled her face. She patted Meilin on the shoulder. “Good luck to you,” she said and whirled away toward the next table.
Good thing Shan was rich. As part of the engagement, he’d be taking on her bills. He could afford this party and not even notice. However, with him covering her living expenses, she could pay for this one on her own.
Meilin picked up her drink and downed a healthy sip. Thank God she’d put aside enough cash for a cab home. She intended to crawl out of this place at closing time and not a moment before. After this, it would be one party after another so everyone in Chinatown could toast the soon-be-wed couple. She faced three months of invitations, thank-you notes, and wedding planning. Her mother already had the California Ballroom at the St. Francis Hotel booked, as well as the nave at Grace Cathedral. Both large enough to accommodate the four hundred estimated wedding guests. A number large enough to make her head hurt.
Movement from the doorway caught her eye and she turned her head to see Jack Ling enter and stop to survey the room. Second cousin so many times removed they were hardly related, he’d been a pest to her most of his life. She’d spent more family gatherings tasked with keeping track of the brat than she could count until she’d escaped to college.
Ready to dismiss him, she paused to note the blond couple with him. The tall man towered over Jack by a good five inches, not that Jack was tall, but this guy had to be six-one at least. The blue oxford shirt and pressed khakis spoke of a man used to dressing with care, or at least in expensive clothing. The revolving colored lights bounced off his golden blond hair, making it look artistically colored. He surveyed the room, but had his hand on the back of the girl beside him. A girl who could have been his twin, although she was shorter than him; In heels she was about even with Jack. Both of them extremely attractive. The girl also dressed with style, but with more glitz, ready for a night of dancing much like Meilin’s friends. And they both looked as young as Jack. Too bad. The blond man looked interesting. Sort of like Alex Pettyfer but with a better haircut. Next to Jack, who vibrated like a raw nerve as usual, the blond oozed calm reserve, giving the impression of being a high-born Brit. The girl was pure Californian with her long sun-streaked hair, wholesome, smiling face, tank mini-dress in neon blue, sparkly heels, and swinging earrings. Interesting.
However,