Only Uni (38 page)

Well, it wasn’t her fault if he didn’t believe her. He’d end up walking while she huffed and puffed next to him.

They started off on a campus footpath used by the more consistent runners. She set the pace, following the concrete ribbon that wove through the green campus to a street, which twisted through the rolling foothills into a wealthy residential area.

She’d been following God’s path for her, hadn’t she? Why was all this trouble happening to her? Well, okay, right now she wasn’t doing so hot on rule number three, persevere and rely on God.

Rely on God to do what? Protect her from Grandma’s wrath now that Trish had told her no for once? Plus, Grandma had suddenly gone completely psycho on her and her three cousins because of their Christian faith. Fear of what Grandma would do next hung around in her stomach like bad
sashimi
.

Spenser had slowed down to match her speed, but with his longer stride, he was almost walking. “Hey, Trish.” He breathed normally.

“Wha-aht?” she panted.

“I’m sorry.”

“Fo-wha-aht?”

“About not saying anything about Kazuo.”

“Izz-o-kay.” She could understand. Kind of.

Trees
shushed
above them in the breeze, and the occasional car passed them and swept the early spring wildflowers into a waving dance. The winter rains had colored the foothills emerald green and mud brown, and dark jade juniper bushes dotted the hillsides.

Spenser cleared his throat. “So did you . . . ?”

“Whah?”

“Get tested.” His mouth formed a grim line.

“Yes . . . Results . . . next . . . week . . . Also . . . asked . . . him.”

“What’d he say?”

She couldn’t talk, so she wheezed and gave an A-OK sign.

His face relaxed like he’d gotten a botox injection, although his mouth was still taut. “I’m glad. Let me know when you get the results back — I want to know you’ll be okay.”

A glowing warmth blossomed in her chest. No, that warmth must be her heart about to fail from this exertion. She should run more often than once a week.

“What are you doing tonight?” He suppressed a yawn, the more-physically-fit stinker.

She mimicked
Wax on, wax off.
“Wha-halls.”

He gave an amused smirk at her gasping. “Scrubbing walls?”

She nodded.

“How about you take a break and go out to dinner with me?”

The air rushed from her lungs in a hacking cough.

“You okay?”

She stopped, folded over, and sucked in a few larger breaths. “What?”
Pant, pant.
“Date?”
Wheeze.
“Me?”
Cough, hack.
“Why?”

“Come on.” He broke into a jog. “Don’t stop.”

So much for romance. She dragged herself up to speed while her legs protested and her side ached. “So?”

“So what?”

Her short break had allowed her to get some of her breath back. “Not . . . about . . . Kazuo?”

He looked her directly in the eye when he answered. “No, I promise this has nothing to do with him.” He wasn’t lying.

She reluctantly broke eye contact and turned her attention back to the road so she wouldn’t trip over a rock and sprawl body parts all over the concrete. “Why . . . a date . . . now?”

He ticked off on his fingers. “I’m Christian, which is a good thing because you’ve been
looking
.”

“Shut up.”

“We’re friends.”

“On . . . good days.”

“We have fun together.”

“We do?”

“So, why not?”

Why not, indeed? Especially with him ignoring her interjections because he knew she was annoyed and about to collapse in exhaustion.

What about Grandma? Would she have a fit if Trish dated someone else? She really wanted to go out with Spenser. They’d had lunch together dozens of times, they had fun, and Trish was usually trying hard not to
look
.

“Sure.” It zapped out of her mouth so fast, he blinked before he caught it.

He flashed that fabulous dimple. “Great. I’ll ask my mom to sit for Matthew.”

Oops. Maybe she should have prayed before answering him.
Uh . . . sorry, God.
No bolt of lightning struck her down dead. Wasn’t that a good sign?

He was her coworker — didn’t that make it seem less like an “official” date? And maybe nothing would come of it — she’d feel nothing but platonic affection for him.

Yeah, right.

Trish strolled into Sushi Masa restaurant. She resisted the urge to smooth her pants over her ample behind, and stopped her hand from reaching up to make sure the jeweled clip still held her hair in place.

No one sat in the waiting area — she knew she should have waited longer to drive here. Spenser had suggested the place since it was only a few minutes away from her home. She’d thought a “few minutes” meant five. It had taken her about 90 seconds.

She took a seat, smoothing her khakis so she wouldn’t stand up with creases, and crossed her legs with a show of indifference.

Why was she so nervous? It was just Spenser.

On a real date.

She couldn’t even try to convince herself he wasn’t attractive, not when they were on a real date. Would this make things awkward with them at work? Maybe she should call him on her cell and cancel. He’d understand.

The door opened and Spenser strode through. It was way weird to see him in date clothes. His Ralph Lauren short-sleeved knit shirt accentuated his broad shoulders but didn’t caricature them. His gaze alighted on her, and he gave a wide, white smile softened by his dimples, which didn’t come out often enough when he was with her.

She rose to her feet and dreamily returned his wide grin. Spenser paused and stared down at her for a moment, looking a little dazed. Strange, he did that randomly when they talked. She couldn’t figure out why.

He blinked as if waking from a daydream. He turned to nod at the hostess, who had approached with two menus in hand.

“Tell me you like sushi.” He sat gracefully into his chair.

“I’m Japanese. Of course I like sushi.”

“Good. Let’s order a platter.”

They ordered, and Spenser started fiddling with the paper wrapping of his wooden chopsticks. Trish rested her cheek in her hand.

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

“So, Spenser — ”

Up went his hand, palm out. “You’re going to start babbling, because you hate dead space. Don’t. We’re friends, we’re past that stage. Ask me something. Anything.”

“Tell me about Kazuo and Linda.”

Oh, Trish. You should staple your mouth shut.

He looked like he’d swallowed a goldfish. Live. “You really go for the gut.”

“Sorry, sorry.”

“No, I did ask for it. I don’t know how they met, I know she was modeling for his latest painting.”

“Did you see it?”

“What?”

“The painting.”

“And when would I have been at his studio?”

“Oh. Well, you’d be pleased.”

“Why?”

“She’s Asian, right? Besides mine — his current one — he only has one other Asian woman painting, and he cut her head off.”

Spenser had a look on his face that indicated he really didn’t know how to respond to that.

“Kazuo has a headless motif.”

“Ah. Anyway, I found out when she told me she was leaving me and Matthew.”

“
What?
What a tramp. I can’t believe — oops, sorry, I shouldn’t have called her a tramp.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.” His heavy lidded eyes gave her a dry look.

“How old was Matthew?”

“Five months.”

“She left her
baby
? I would never do that. Boy, do you pick ’em — uh . . .” Oh, man. Shoe-leather diet. She was on a roll tonight.

“You’re on a roll tonight, honey.”

How did he do that? “I’m sorry, I keep forgetting this is a date and not lunchtime at work.”

They stared at each other for a moment. The next thing she knew, she was laughing like her lungs were going to explode. He wasn’t laughing quite so hard, but his dimple peeked out.

Trish saw a glimpse over his shoulder of a long ponytail of straight hair falling almost to the ground, swung in an arc over a bony shoulder. “Oh no.”

She hadn’t realized she said it aloud until Spenser’s brows came together. “What is it?”

“My cousin Mimi. My eternal enemy, Dracula’s daughter, Mephisto’s mother, vamp of villainy . . .” She couldn’t come up with more flavorful descriptions before the she-devil herself sashayed up to their table.

Mimi’s signature ankle-length ponytail measured a few inches shy of five feet, since Mimi herself had stopped growing at four feet, eight and three-quarter inches, to her frustration and rage and Trish’s secret delight. Everything else in Mimi’s life had gone according to her wishes — luscious pearl-pink lips and onyx eyes set in a face of pale ivory, a delicate bone structure giving the impression of frailty and triggering male-protectiveness, yet flaunting two bouncing C-cups and a tight little buttocks. It amazed Trish that Mimi’s height wouldn’t follow expectations, also.

“Hiya, Trish.” Mimi rested her hand on the top of Spenser’s chair, probably sinking her claws into his back.

“What do you want?” Somehow, Lex got along swimmingly with their cousin, but Trish still didn’t see the girl’s less repulsive side.

Mimi feigned ignorance of the prime object of her attack in a brilliant tactical maneuver. “We missed you at the
Obon
dance committee meeting.”

Ah, a chance for a flush hit. “My mother went.” Her saccharine tones implied the
Obon
committee was for the older generation.

“So did mine. You didn’t want to help her?”

Ooooo, it had been a sacrificed pawn. “I haven’t been to an
Obon
in years.” Ever since Mimi “accidentally” shoved Trish out of the traditional Japanese line dance right into a mud puddle, ruining her great-grandmother’s heirloom silk kimono and Trish’s self-esteem.

Mimi’s gaze oh-so-casually settled on Spenser’s polite expression with a speculative gleam. Trish gritted her teeth. “Spenser, this is my cousin, Mimi Sakai.”

Mimi gave a mysterious, seductive smile reminiscent of Lucy Liu.

Trish watched him study her down-tilted face — flawless, gorgeous, and dainty — everything Trish was not. But something he saw made his eyes chill to beads of black ice, and his wide smile curled short of a sneer. He confounded her by his indifferent, “Hi,” before he turned back to rest both elbows on the table, shutting Mimi out.

Mimi’s jaw plummeted to the floor. Trish saw all the way down her throat to her tonsils, while her mystical eyes bugged out into gecko orbs. Trish wished for a camera so the
Cherry Blossom Times
would run a front page spread: “MIMI DISSED!” Trish gripped her seat with both hands to prevent herself from jumping into the Snoopy dance right there in the restaurant. She rewarded herself with a cheerful “Bye, Mimi.”

Her cousin swirled in a cascade of dark hair and flounced away.

Spenser’s face shone with mirth and shared triumph. She wanted to reach over and kiss those adorable dimples.

Nononono. Stop thinking about kissing.

She actually had brain activity for an entire 0.2 seconds before blurting out, “Not to be mean, but I would think she was your type.

She’s like the stick — I mean, the Hong Kong intern at work.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her.

“You said it yourself, I’m on a roll. Who am I kidding? We’re friends. I can’t expect to censor my mouth here when I wouldn’t if we were both in the lab.”

He sighed. “Good point.”

“So? Mimi?”

“Girls like that expect every guy they smile at to fall at their feet.”

“Mimi
is
gorgeous. It’s always been like that for her.”

Some of her wistfulness must have colored her tone, because his eyes gentled. “What’s it been like for
you
?”

The question startled her. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, the bad blood between you two isn’t obvious at all.”

Trish remembered flashes of her childhood: at family parties, the girls a few feet away laughing about her, making her feel isolated in the middle of the crowd. Mimi making a habit — case in point — of stealing her boyfriends. “She always made me feel like I didn’t measure up.”

“Maybe
she
didn’t.”

“Did ya
look
at her?”

“She looks like Barbie’s sister Skipper.”

Trish sighed and her eyes drifted to Mimi’s distant figure on the other side of the restaurant. “I’d kill to look like Skipper.”

“Snap out of it.” He glared at her. “You’re being an idiot.”

She gave a cheeky grin. “Now who’s on a roll?”

“Trish, don’t you know . . .” He held her gaze. He wasn’t being charming or flattering. Somehow, slowly, his serious expression made her feel as if she glowed. As if she was hotter than radioactive P32. As if she was the most gorgeous woman in the entire restaurant.

As she studied Spenser’s face, it seemed that in his eyes, she was.