Free The Typhoon Lover by Sujata Massey Page A

the chili-laden soup. “I’m not ready to open a bottle of champers yet, but if you’ll do the honors of pouring us each a glass of water, we can toast to your legal reentry in Japan, which I’ll be thrilled to witness.”
    I went to organize the lead crystal tumblers he kept in a cabinet, along with a bottle of mineral water, and various spirits. I asked, “Does this mean you’ll actually drive me to Dulles Airport in rush hour? You don’t have to, really. I can take the Metro.”
    “Better than that. I’ll fly with you, babe. We can hunker down under the blankets and get into the kind of trouble that we used to on all those night flights.”
    “Hold on.” I thought quickly. “You—you didn’t even have time to fly anywhere for a three-day weekend for my birthday. How can you get the time off to go with me to Japan? And I’m in a situation where I have to go in a real rush—next week, in fact.”
    “Have you forgotten that I’m supposed to visit Tokyo every three or four months for trial preparation?” Hugh raised the glass that I’d handed him in a toasting gesture. “I haven’t been in a while. It would be a cinch to convince the managing partner that it’s high time for me to return and get the Tokyo office in high gear.”
    “Hugh, I’m sorry,” I said. “This job for the federal government—you know that it’s my first, and I don’t think I would come off as a professional if I travel with my boyfriend in tow.”
    He studied my face for a moment. “Okay. We’ll fly separately and meet up at my company flat. No one shall be the wiser.”
    I took a deep drink of water, then put my glass down. “I can’t explain all the details, but believe me, they’ll know. I must go alone.”
    “What do you mean, they’ll know?” Hugh sounded impatient. “And who the hell cares, anyhow? Rei, I want to go to Japan with you. You’re the one who made me fall in love with the country, and it’s just not been the same going on business there without you. You know how to read street signs and order theater tickets and all the—” he stopped, as if he’d finally noticed how grave my expression had become.
    “I must go alone,” I repeated. “It will only be for a week, two weeks at the most. And if all goes well, I’ll get my visa status changed so I can return again, as much as I like and with you. We’re used to separations, sweetheart. I think we can manage.”
    “I wish you’d let me go with you, but if it means that much to you that you go alone…I understand. Yes,” he said, his voice growing stronger, “I’ll keep the home fires burning. I’ll take a break from gadding about and put some extra energy into researching the case, which you know is greatly overdue.”
    I looked at him, blinking back the tears that I felt. He was really hurt. I said, “You’re being very tolerant of the situation. Thank you.”
    He snorted and said, “Well, the bosses you’ve got sound just the opposite, if they’ve made you this agitated and uptight about the trip. I certainly hope they’re paying you a living wage.”
    “They’re sparing no expense, flying me over business class. You’ll have to give me tips, so I can fully take advantage of the situation—”
    Hugh frowned. “The government doesn’t usually fly its employees business class.”
    “Well, this is a special branch of the government. I mean,” I amended hastily, “because I’m a consultant from the outside, and not a federal employee, I get some perks.”
    “Ask them to put you on one of the planes that have the seats that recline back like beds. If there’s fresh-squeezed orange juice, drink it. And don’t forget to bring home the comfort kit.”
    The comfort kit. It would probably contain a little black eye mask like the one I’d been given on my birthday, a mask designed to help a person get some sleep—or to block out the truth about what she would have to do.
     
    The next few days passed in a blur of travel and