The Little Teashop in Tokyo by Julie Caplin Page 0,36
the coffee, grateful for the fierce hit of caffeine.
He raised his eyebrows.
‘Problem?’
‘No. Not at all,’ she said with blithe insincerity.
With a wince he held his hand out for his coffee cup and then realising that it was empty put his hand back down again. ‘Is there something wrong?’
‘Now, why would you think that?’ Hiding a smile of satisfaction, she saw it register, a slight wariness denting that bored and indifferent facade.
‘You seem …’ He paused but she didn’t rush to fill the silence. Instead she left it hanging there and saw him groping for words.
Now it was her turn to raise an eyebrow.
With a shrug of his shoulders, he met her angry gaze. ‘I’m not into crowds and tourist places. I thought you’d be better off on your own.’
‘Perhaps. But just when does this mentoring kick in? Or do you plan to dump me at the key tourist attractions and hide out at the nearest coffee bar for the next two weeks?’
‘I’m not hiding out,’ he said, snapping upright with an indignant glare.
‘No?’ she asked. ‘Looks that way to me. I’ve been here for four days now and you’ve not exactly been very helpful.’
‘We went to the studio yesterday and the day before I was busy. Work.’
‘I’m not denying that … but I’d have thought your work would have provided a mentoring opportunity. I need to come up with an exhibition and a portfolio of pictures in the next two weeks. You’re supposed to be helping.’
Gabe didn’t quite go as far as looking ashamed but he pursed his lips and dropped his folded arms. His fingers worried at the sugar sachet again.
‘Have you had any ideas?’ he asked lightly, his gaze skimming beyond her as if the answer was of no real interest.
‘A few,’ she snapped. ‘It would have been helpful to discuss them with my mentor at the time.’
‘Well, now’s your chance,’ he said with a sudden smirk that she wanted to punch off his face. ‘I’m all ears.’
Now it was her turn to purse her lips. How had he done that? Turned the tables and made her feel like a needy child wanting attention? She didn’t like it. Not one bit. Because she wasn’t that child any more.
‘Do you know what, Gabe? I’ve flown over nine thousand miles for this trip, to be mentored by one of the best photographers in the world.’ She gave him a fierce stare. ‘And instead I get a second-rate replacement who can’t even be bothered with me.’ She felt a thrill of bitchiness when his eyes widened at the, ‘second rate replacement’ line. Good, she wanted him to feel bad. And if insulting him worked, she’d happily do it again. ‘Haruka has been nothing but kind to me and she seems to think you’re the bee’s knees. I’ve no idea why. I’m not asking for much but if you can’t be bothered then perhaps you can put me in touch with someone who can. Or I can ask Haruka’s husband for an alternative.’
‘You can’t do that,’ said Gabe and she saw him brace the table suddenly as if stopping himself from rising to his feet. ‘You know you can’t.’
Guilt pricked at her; no, she couldn’t. The family had been nothing but kind to her and she would do anything to avoid upsetting Haruka but Gabe didn’t know that. She shrugged. ‘I don’t see that I have much choice. You’re not interested. I came here to learn. Why would it bother you? It would let you off the hook. You can spend all day lazing around in coffee shops.’
Gabe glared at her. ‘I won’t have you upsetting Haruka. She’s been very good to me.’ His mouth crumpled mutinously before he asked. ‘What is it you want from me?’
Fiona felt the tension ease in her shoulders as triumph streamed through, at the same time as a little bump of disappointment that he so readily believed she was prepared to be that ruthless. She never would have done something like that. But then Gabe had never known her; she’d just been one of a multitude of students and the impact he’d made on her far eclipsed hers on him. Her overheated hormones and imagination had created a magical, romantic connection between them which had all been in her silly head. The familiar shame threatened to derail her thoughts and she reined them back.
‘To teach me. To mentor me. To listen to my ideas. Would any of that really kill you?’