"Have a safe trip. Miss Fsumy. Call, and I will meet you here on your return."

Fanny watched until Chue's truck was out of sight. She felt dizzy with her freedom. She hadn't traveled alone since her trip to Hawaii to meet Ash over thirty years ago. She'd been a girl then. Now she was a woman ready to meet her destiny.

Simon was her destiny. SaUie had said so. Simon had said so.

She believed.

He was walking toward her, his eyes searching the milling passengers as they walked the concourse. Fanny stopped, forcing people to walk around her. She didn't apologize, her mouth was paper-dry, preventing any words from escaping. She remembered another time when a young lieutenant dressed in navy whites had met her at this airport. She shook her head to clear the thought away. This was Simon, wonderfid, wonderful Simon. He was a vision to 446 Fern Michaels her weary eyes, dressed in a crisp white shirt, open at the throat, with roDed-up sleeves, creased khaki trousers, and tasseled loafers. A lightweight summer jacket was folded over his arm. He was more handsome than the young lieutenant dressed in na7 whites she'd remembered a moment ago.

"Simon," Fanny said breathlessly.

"Fanny! I was starting to panic. I must have walked this concourse five times. I thought you might have . . . changed your mind." His voice was hoarse, his eyes drinking in the sight of her.

"Never." Her voice was still breathless.

"Tired?"

"I'm too excited to be tired. I am hungry, though."

"We have two hours, so let's head for the nearest restaurant. I'm all checked in, so we can cut it right down to the wire. How about you?"

"Me too. We're seated together. The passenger scheduled to sit next to me decided at the last moment to wait until tomorrow to travel. I told the ticket agent you were my husband but coming from another direction. I hope you don't mind."

"Not likely. I planned to crouch in the aisle next to your seat until they made me move or took pity on me and ousted the person next to you."

"I can't believe we're here. Together. It's like a dream. Sallie always said, 'all good things come to those who wait.' I think it must be true."

Over bites of well-done hamburger, soggy french fries, crunchy pickles, and greasy potato chips, Fanny repeated, verbatim, the letter she'd received from her attorney. Simon stopped chewing long enough to stare at her. "What's the trick? Ash never gives in."

"He had to agree; otherwise, he doesn't get the money. Ash signed off on everything. In five more days I'll be free."

"That's good enough for me."

"They're calling our flight, Simon. We're really going to get on that plane together, aren't we?"

"Yes we are. Allow me," Simon said, extending his arm.

"Simon, I'm giddy."

"Look at my feet, Fanny, they aren't touching the floor. From this point on, we are not going to talk about family, friends, or business. This is our time, yours and mine. We've waited a long time for this and now that time has arrived. No clocks, no calendars. Agreed?"

"Oh, yes, Simon. Yes, yes, yes."

**This, my dear, is the Peninsula Hotel, the finest hotel in all of Asia. It's the home away fi-om home of queens and kings, grand dukes, heads of state, divas, captains of industry, and, Fm told, CIA Agents. I read everything I could get my hands on in regard to Asia.

"See that man dressed in white, the imperious one. He's a ma-jordomo. The young boys are pages. This is a serious business to all of them. No one smiles. We're going to register, have tea here in this golden room, go for a walk, have an early dinner, go to bed, in separate rooms, catch up on our jet lag, and get up in the morning and do it. By doing it, I mean we're going to do Hong Kong."

Fanny giggled. "I knew what you meant Does Queen Elizabeth really have tea here?"

"So I have heard."

"I feel important," Fanny said as a white-clad waiter ushered her to a seat at a small round table.

"And well you should," Simon said smartly. "I believe the man to your left, the one in profile, is Prince Charles."

"Who cares?" Fanny said airily. "I'd rather look at you."

"Ah. This is Lushan Yun Wu tea. By the time we leave here, we'll be drinking it with gusto."

Fanny made a face. "I find that hard to believe. I prefer Lipton Tea bags. Does that mean I won't fit in?"

Simon threw back his head and laughed. The Prince Charles look-alike fi"owned at this uncouth outburst. Simon laughed harder. Fanny smiled. She loved the sound of Simon's laughter, loved the merriment in his eyes. Loved sitting here with him at this little round table where queens and kings had tea. Loved him. Period.

"Tomorrow we'll have tea zuid crumpets," Simon said, the laughter still in his voice.

"Tomorrow we'll have Coca-Cola and potato chips. If we're going for a walk, Simon, we should go now before I fall aisleep."

"We can skip all that, Fanny. I'm tired too. Maybe we should check in, go to our rooms, sleep, and meet up for breakfast. Tomorrow is another day."

Fanny yawned. "That's the nicest thing you've said to me all day. Let's do that. Nine o'clock in the morning for breakfast. We'll meet in the lobby, okay?"

Simon matched her yawn. "I'll check us in."

Fanny slept for twelve straight hours, waking at 6:00 A.M. Hong 448 Fern Michaels Kong time. She felt groggy and disoriented as she slid her legs over the side of the bed. Her voice sounded thick and hoarse when she spoke with room service. "Coffee and orange juice. Immediately."

Fanny opened her traveling case to remove her robe and stared at herself in the huge bathroom mirror. VVTio was this person staring back at her, this person with the flyaway hair sticking up at all angles, this person with the smudged makeup and dry skin? It was true then what frequent travelers said; pressurized cabins sucked all the moisture from one's skin. She winced.

The coffee was strong and black. Fanny sipped leisurely as she fired up her first cigarette of the day. When she finished her third cup of coffee she felt like the Fanny Thornton who left Nevada the day before. She turned on the television to see American subtides. She turned it off; it was better to sit here and daydream about spending the next four weeks with Simon. She looked at her watch. She would see him, in two hours, sit across from him at breakfast, walk with him hand in hand. She was going to share her life with Simon for a whole month. She wanted to think beyond the month, but caution prevented her. One day at a time.

The last thing Fanny did before leaving the hotel room was to prop up a pocket calendar against the lamp. The countdown to her divorce was under way.

Dressed in a simple yellow linen shift that showed off her summer tan to perfection, Fanny stepped from the lift at five minutes to nine. She knew she looked good because she felt good.

"I've been here since seven-thirty. I could float out of here on the coffee I consumed," Simon said.

"You should have called me, Simon. I was up at six. If it will make you feel better, I consumed an entire pot of coffee myself. We can float away together. That thought makes me very happy. Let's just walk."

As Simon said later, "We did Hong Kong on foot."

The day passed in a literal blur for Fanny as they made their way through hordes of people, none of whom smiled. They took the Star Ferry, sitting close together on the slatted seat, holding hands. On solid ground again, Simon took her arm. "Want rickshaw ride?" a wizened man queried.

"Mercy, Simon, the man is so old, I can't in good conscience let him haul us around. It's too sad."

"You ride rickshaw? I take you, roads go wiggly, wiggly. Taxi no go wiggly wiggly. Much far. Where you want go?"

Fanny consulted her notes. "Cloth Lane."

"Okay, Cloth Lane it is," Simon said, helping Fanny into the rickshaw. "I'll give him a big tip," he whispered.

The old man was right, the road went wiggly wiggly. He trotted along at an even rate of speed, coming to a stop at the beginning of the lane. Fanny gasped in awe at the hundreds of colorful banners and metal signs hanging overhead, blocking out all traces of sunlight.

"I guess our best bet is to walk up one side and down the other. Exactly what are you looking for?" Simon asked.

"Materials for the new Rainbow Babies line and perhaps some new patterned fabric. I applied to the government for permission to travel to Zhejiang on the east coast. Billie told me the silks coming out of the famous Silk City as it's called, are clear as water, beautiful as poetry, like clouds in the sky and flowers on earth. I don't want to miss the mulberry trees and the silk experts in the Zhejiang Province. I wish I knew someone with clout who could intercede for me."

"We can stop by the embassy tomorrow. Perhaps they can expedite your request," Simon said.

They walked from shop to shop, getting the knack of haggling by the time they visited the fifth shop, where Fanny bought two silk robes for the twins with dragons belching fire appliqued on the back. For Sunny and Billie she bought pale pink silk robes with appliqued flowers around the bands of the sleeves and the hem. They ate noodles, rice cakes, and egg rolls and drank the awful Lushan Yun Wu tea by the cup.

Late in the afternoon, walking down Nathan Road, on their way back to the Star Ferry, they found themselves caught in a horde of people watching a Dragon Boat Festival whose lead Dragon Boat belched fire. Simon snapped pictures, one after the other. When they were allowed to proceed to the ferry, Fanny pointed to the camera, her face full of laughter. "You ran out of film after the first shot."

"No!"

"Uh-huh. At least you got one shot."

"What would I do without you?" Simon asked.

"Oh, Simon, I don't ever want to fmd out the answer to that question."

At the American Embassy, Fanny's countrymen helped her locate the families on Chue's list. Written messages were sent, and phone calls were made. On the evening of the fourth day, Chue's 450 Fern Michaels gifts were dispersed and a pile of gifts was offered to Fanny to take home for Chue. Fanny showed pictures of Ghue, Su Li, and their families. The relatives' smiles were the only ones she saw during the entire time she spent in Hong Kong. The trunk was ftill again.

One more day until her divorce was final.

Day five was spent taking the Kowloon-Canton Railway-the Peak-tram-thirty kilometers to a height of 397 meters above sea level. Fanny and Simon had a picnic.

Dinner at Gaddi's lasted three and a half hours with two bottles of vmie. Simon and Fanny parted company at her door a little after ten, promising to meet for breakfast at nine the following morning.

Fanny removed her makeup, changed into her nightgown, and crept into bed. Tomorrow was day seven. Tomorrow she would be a free woman. Suddenly she sat up, bolted from the bed to race to the dresser where the small pocket calendar leaned against the lamp. Her mind raced. Tomorrow was day seven. Day seven in the United States. Day seven here in Asia was half-over. Hong Kong was twelve hours ahead of US time. Her divorce hearing was scheduled for 9:00 A.M. on the morning of the seventh day. Lordy, Lordy, Lordy, she was already divorced! She was free to go to Simon. Now. This minute.

Later, she had no memory of putting on her robe and slippers, no memory of opening her door, no memory of walking down the hall, five doors away, to Simon's room, no memory of knocking on his door. When the door opened, she stared at Simon for a fuU minute. "Hong Kong is twelve hours ahead of the United States. Simon, Vmjree."

Fanny's feet left the floor as Simon yanked her into the room. His voice was hoarse when he said, "How did that slip by us?"

"Simon . . ."

"Shhh," he said, kissing her.

"Oh, my, do that again. I liked that."

"You should see what else I can do. That was just a teaser," Simon murmured.

Fanny nibbled on Simon's ear, her tongue tickhng the inside. "You should see what else I can do. That was my teaser," Fanny said.

"I can be out of these pajama bottoms in a heartbeat," Simon S2iid.

Fanny's nightgown was on the floor and she was in the bed before Simon had his left leg out of his pajama bottom.

"There's a lot to be said for speed," Simon grinned.

Simon looked at her naked body with the eye of a lover and a connoisseur. "You're beautiful," he whispered.

"You talk too much. Come here, I want to feel you next to me. I want to feel all of you against all of me."

He knelt over her for a long moment, his eyes drinking in the sight of the long, sweeping lines of her body. His gaze traveled up the length of her thighs to the perfection of her molded breasts. The blaze in his loins raced to his head, making him light-headed, knowing a deep, aching desire. Fanny held out her arms to him, and with a sound close to a moan, he lay down next to her, entwining himself around her. His arms drew her close.

Fanny's head was swimming with exhilaration. Her body was ready, arching, needing, wanting, eager for his touch. She didn't know how she knew, but she knew Simon would be slow and artful. He would give and take and finally, claim her for his own. And when he was deep inside her, then he would take her, joining her to himself Their mouths touched, his tongue spearing into the warm wetness of her mouth. His arms wrapped around her, anchoring her body to his while her senses soared and took flight. Her world, upside-down, focused only on those places covered by his hands and lips.

She moved to cup his face in her hands. She kissed his mouth, his chin, his ears, her tongue trailing kisses down his chest, down, down, down. She felt herself being moved, felt his lips on hers, forcing her to arch her back, her head moving back and forth on the pillow as though to negate the exquisite demand of her sensuality. Their lips met, lingered, tasted, and met again. She felt a prisoner, loving the feeling.

His hands grasped her hips, drawing her against him, filling her with himself, knowing his own needs, demanding she fulfill them. Her breathing was as ragged as his own, his chest heaving to the same rhythm as hers. He moved within her, rhythmically, insistently, rocking against her, forcing her to tighten herself around him, bringing each of them closer to their sunburst climax, where each of them would surrender to the other.

Gasping and panting, Simon covered her body with his own, quieting her shudders, calming her spasms. When he finally withdrew from her, he cradled her to him. He whispered words only lovers knew until they slept in each other's arms.

452 Fern Michaels

22.

Fanny sucked a long noodle through her pursed lips at the same time Simon did. It was a silly thing, but both of them laughed and did it again.

All their shopping had been done, the gifts and mementos packed in two large trunks. Their visit to the Silk City had been accomplished. They'd had half of the silks sent direcdy to BilHe Coleman in Texas, the other half to Sunny's Togs in Las Vegas.

They headed for a small park they'd found by accident. Simon carried a string bag with a blanket, cheese, apples and Coca-Cola. Fanny carried a book and a day-old copy of the Wall Street Journal. Together they spread the blanket and then removed their shoes. Both of them rolled over on their stomachs with the easy familiarity of a couple in love. They spoke quiedy, softly to one another so as not to disturb the many young people studying under the trees.

"We haven't made any kind of a plan," Simon said. "I need to know, Fanny, was this just a vacation to you? Are we going home to . . . what? I hve in New York. You live in Nevada. How are we going to handle that?"

"I don't know, Simon. This has been so perfect I've tried not to think about it. Inevitably when you make a plan, things start to go awry. I don't want anything to go wrong."

"We're talking about the rest of our lives. You're free. I'm free. What are we going to do about it?"

"What would you like to do?"

"Marry you of course."

"Simon, it's too soon. I've only been divorced a few weeks. I don't want to . . . rush into anything. I'm thinking about the kids too. It would bother me tremendously for them to think you and I were having an affair while I was still married to their father. I realize they aren't kids any longer, they're adults, but even adults have a problem when their parents get divorced. You should be able to relate to all of this, Simon. How did you feel when your mother and Devin . .. when they started keeping . . . company, for want of a better word?"

"My parents had a very strange style, Fanny. Dad was one place, Mom was someplace else. We got together on holidays. I accepted it because I didn't know any other way. I knew it wasn't normal because I had friends who had normal families, like Jerry. I had already enlisted when Mom and Devin got together. Jerry wrote and told me what was going on. Mom kind of talked around it in her letters. I really liked Devin. He could make Mom smile, make her eyes sparkle. Dad could never do that. Your kids are no different than I was. They'll accept me. I think they like me as much as I like them."

"They more than like you. They adore you. You're their father's brother. That's the difference. They don't think of you and me in romantic terms."

Simon rolled over onto his back, his hands laced behind his head. "Are you saying you won't marry me because of the kids?"

"For now. I can go to New York twice a month. You can come to Nevada twice a month. We'll see each other every weekend. It will only be for a litde while. Simon, I worked so hard to keep my family together, I can't take the chance ... I won't take the chance that something could go wrong. You can't just walk away from a business that has taken you all your life to build. I would never ask you to do that. Please, tell me you understand."