* * *
The streets of Kowloon were teeming with people when Dirk DeWinter walked out of the soundstage ten weeks later and approached the waiting black Rolls-Royce that would take him back to the Peninsula Hotel.
“Thanks, Patrick,” he told his driver, who held the door for him. He leaned back against the leather seat, enjoying the stream of cold air blowing from the vent. Just walking from the soundstage to the Rolls in the intense heat and humidity had left him uncomfortable. “I sure am glad to be done,” Dirk said, satisfied but exhausted. “Hong Kong in July is pure misery. How do the locals stand it?”
Patrick grinned into the rearview mirror. “Guess you’ll find out, won’t you?”
Dirk returned the grin, but didn’t say anything more—he didn’t want to jinx his luck. Mei-li’s family all knew his intentions. He’d refused to keep it a secret. But she still had to say yes.
* * *
Mei-li fussed over the two-person table in her tiny dining room, deciding at the last minute to replace the romantic white candles with red ones. She wasn’t superstitious—well, not much anyway. But white was the color of mourning, red the color of celebration. And tonight she was going to wear the same red dress she’d been wearing the first night she’d met Dirk. “Good omen?” she muttered to herself. She slanted a quick look at the clock and realized she was going to be late if she didn’t hurry. She’d planned to take a long, luxurious bath before dinner, but she was going to have to settle for a quick shower instead.
Ten weeks, she mused as the water sluiced over her body. How was it possible ten weeks had flown by so quickly? Dirk had been working twelve-and fourteen-hour days, not to mention the amount of time he devoted to his daughters. And she’d had her work, too. One week she hadn’t seen him at all. But every day he’d sent her something. A song. A poem. Sometimes a quotation, famous or obscure. Just something to let her know he was thinking of her.
And she’d reciprocated...although he didn’t know it. But every night she’d written to him in a little journal she kept. Not long letters—a paragraph here, a sentence or two there. Sometimes it was in response to what he’d sent her. And sometimes it was a confession of the way her body longed for his. Tonight...if he asked to marry him tonight...she would give him the journal. So he’d know he’d always been in her heart.
* * *
Dinner was over, the table cleared and the dishes done. Mei-li had wanted to just clear the table and leave everything in the kitchen, but Dirk had insisted on washing while she dried. Then he’d taken her hand and led her into her small living room.
“Why are you so nervous?” he asked her. “This isn’t like you at all.”
“Because...” Her voice trailed away.
“It can’t be a surprise.”
“No, but...”
“I told you ten weeks ago I wouldn’t take no for an answer. Is that what’s worrying you?”
“Oh, no, but...”
“You can’t be worried about losing your career. I told you, I can live anywhere. Hannah already agreed to move to Hong Kong, so she’ll bridge the gap with Linden and Laurel when Vanessa marries Chet. And I have the money to take my daughters back to the States to visit their grandparents, or whenever you’re afraid they’ll lose touch with their heritage.”
“It’s not that, but...”
“Finish one sentence,” he told her. “Just one.” She laughed, the deep, throaty laugh he remembered late at night in bed when thoughts of her kept him from sleeping.
He took both her hands in his, smiling a little to himself. “You know,” he told her. “The night we rescued my daughters? I remember looking at your hands and thinking you could move mountains. That’s so true.”
She breathed deeply and snuggled closer, laying her head against his shoulder.
“I was also—I think humbled is the word, humbled you’d decided I needed rescuing as much as my daughters. That’s so true, too. I did need rescuing.”
Her eyes softened, and her hand came up to caress his cheek. “I just wanted you to know you weren’t alone.”
“If I have you, I’ll never be alone again.” He drew a deep breath. “I love you, Mei-li. I didn’t think I’d ever love again after I lost Bree, but I do. I always will. You wanted me to wait. So I waited. You wanted me to be sure. I can’t be any more sure than I am at this moment. It seems so simple to me. I love you. You love me. I want to build a life with you. Which, for me, means I want you to be my wife.”