‘Come on.’ Rafe took her arm as she paused, having to fight to drag the thick, humid air into her lungs. ‘There’s a limo waiting; let’s get inside it before we melt.’
Once they were inside, the car moved off with a silent smoothness and Shaan let her head fall back against the soft leather cushions. She felt like a limp rag, whilst Rafe looked as alert and as fresh as he had when he’d escorted her out of his house this morning—or had it been yesterday morning? She couldn’t remember, hadn’t taken the trouble to find out what the time difference was.
‘What time is it?’ she asked, totally disorientated.
‘Almost noon,’ he said. ‘Local time,’ he clarified when he caught her expression. ‘About four in the morning to us.’
No wonder she felt dead on her feet! Her eyes were having difficulty even focusing, they felt so tired.
The car battled its way through the snarling traffic and into a tunnel which she assumed was taking them beneath the water to Hong Kong itself. Then they were moving along the rows of tall buildings where the modem splendour of plate glass and forged steel stood alongside old and crumbling colonial stone.
There seemed to be no rhyme nor reason as to why one building plot had been transformed into a plate glass towerblock while the one beside it bore the resemblance of a slum. Yet between them both, they only added to the charm of the city which was already beginning to spark her interest.
They pulled up outside the elegant-looking place with a porticoed entrance and white uniformed porters waiting to jump to open the car doors for them.
‘Welcome, Mr Danvers, Mrs Danvers.’ The young Chinese man who bowed to them surprised Shaan with his personal knowledge of who they were, but it did not seem to surprise Rafe at all.
‘My wife is exhausted, Lee,’ he said with the brisk informality of one who came here a lot. ‘Are we in my usual suite?’
‘Yes, sir.’ With a snap of his fingers, Lee had two more porters running to get their luggage from the boot of the limo. ‘If you will follow me, we will deal with the formalities.’ With a jaunty lilt to his stride, he moved off in front of them, leaving Shaan feeling slightly overawed by all the special treatment as she followed mutely behind, with Rafe’s hand possessively on her arm. She had always known he was important—after all, he was head of the great Danvers Corporation. But she thought this kind of treatment was reserved for government dignitaries and film stars only!
Signing in took mere seconds, then Lee was leading them off towards the lifts and politely inviting them to precede him in
side before he stepped in with them and set the lift moving.
Shaan felt so tired she was in danger of wilting. And, indeed, when Rafe’s arm came about her shoulders to urge her against him, she didn’t bother to struggle; it was that necessary to let him take at least some of her weight for her.
‘Hang on a little longer,’ he murmured understandingly. ‘Then you can have a nice long shower to freshen you up before we go in search of lunch.’
Lunch? ‘All I want to do is fall into bed,’ she told him on a stifled yawn.
‘No can do, I’m afraid,’ he refused. ‘The best way to combat jet lag is by fighting it. Get through the rest of today without sleep and you’ll feel a whole lot better for it tomorrow. Trust me,’ he added at her protesting look.
‘Trust me’. His favourite two words, she thought as she subsided wearily against him. A small smile touched his mouth as he watched her, but there was no hint of softening. That solid chin of his still jutted out in stubborn determination, and she let out a stifled sigh. ‘One day soon I’m going to put a stop to your bullying, Rafe,’ she promised him on another yawn.
‘Really?’ he said. ‘Good. I’ll look forward to it.’
Shaan glanced up at him, looking for the expression that should have gone with that disturbingly sanguine tone, but, as usual, his face told her nothing.
The man was an enigma, she decided. A total enigma.
Their room was a luxurious suite, with a rich rose carpet and creamy damask furnishings. She barely had time to take in the spacious sitting room, with its soft, curving settees and elegant dining table complete with candelabra, before Rafe had hold of her arm again. Lee was dismissed, and Rafe took her through another door.
It was a bedroom, furnished in the same soft colours but with a huge double bed covered with a creamy satin quilt.
‘The bathroom is through there,’ Rafe indicated with a nod of his dark head. ‘Go and take a shower, wake yourself up, while I check on the bags.’
Twenty minutes later, wrapped in a snowy white bathrobe she had found hanging behind the bathroom door, she came back into the bedroom to find that everything had already been unpacked and put away for her.
And hanging on the wardrobe was a fresh set of clothes—yet another display of Rafe’s peremptory manner.
He’d selected a plain linen shirt-waister dress in a natural wheat colour, with brown leather buttons up the front and a matching brown leather belt. She had never seen it in her life before—or the matching brown blazer that hung beside it.
Or the brown leather shoes sitting neatly to attention on the floor, and the cream silk underwear draped on the bed.
With a puzzled frown, she stepped up to the wardrobe and slid open the door.
It was a shock. She recognised nothing of her own in there.