by BETH KERY
“I’m not most people,” he said, watching her as he also placed his elbows on the bar and leaned forward, matching her pose.
“Yes. I think we’ve established that,” she murmured humorously, studying him with her chin brushing her shoulder. They sat close. Much closer than they would have if they’d been seated at a table. Their elbows touched lightly; their poses were intimate. Too much so for having just met. She instinctively glanced downward, taking in his crotch and strong, jean-covered thighs.
Heat flooded her cheeks. She fixed her gaze blindly on the glassware hanging behind the bar.
She silenced the voice in her head telling her to lean back and gain perspective. Lin Soong didn’t hunch down over bars flirting with rugged, sexy men. His face fascinated her, though. She wanted to turn again and study it, the desire an almost magnetic pull on her attention. And . . . she could smell him. His scent was simple: soap and freshly showered male skin. No, it should have been simple, but was somehow light-headedly complex. Delicious.
“I wasn’t trying to insult you by saying I’d rather eat at the bar,” he said, referring to her earlier, subtle gibe that he’d intended to insult her. “I’m more comfortable here. I’m out of practice. I’m not used to places like this,” he said, glancing around without moving his head.
“I’m sorry,” she said, meaning it. With a sinking feeling, she thought of the schedule she had planned for him in the next few weeks. Ian had approved of it, but clearly Kam wouldn’t. Perhaps it’d be best to ease him into things, maybe just tell him about each appointment a day or two in advance so that he didn’t have time to dread them too much? “I wasn’t trying to be pretentious by asking you to meet here. Even though Savaur might seem upscale, I consider it the opposite. It’s almost like a second home for me. I’m good friends with the owners—they’re neighbors of mine, in fact.”
“Was that one of them who you were laughing with—presumably about me—when you walked in?”
Guilt swept through her. “We weren’t laughing at you.”
He arched his brows and gave her a bland look, as if to say it was all the same to him whether they were or they weren’t. Lin had the distinct impression his impervious manner wasn’t for show. He really must have built up a thick skin living like an outcast for all those years. She couldn’t help but admire his nonchalance about what other people thought of him. It wasn’t a thing she encountered much in this day and age. His concise observance mixed with his cool indifference and jaw-dropping good looks left her unsure of what to say.
“I’m sorry if I gave the impression I was laughing. I was—am, I mean—very eager to meet you.” She cleared her throat. It suddenly struck her that they were speaking in hushed, intimate tones. She was relieved to see Victor appear with the menus. “May I order for you?” she asked Kam politely. She saw his flashing glance and knew she’d made another misstep.
“Which do you think? That I don’t know how to place an order myself, or that I can’t read?”
“Neither, of course. I was thinking of what you insinuated earlier about tiny servings. I promise you, I won’t order two bites and a sprinkle on a plate. Emile Savaur knows how to feed a hungry Frenchman. He and Richard are Frenchmen as well, and more often than not, hungry ones.”
She took his silence and slight shrug as agreement and ordered them both the steak au poivre.
“So Ian sent you to make me feel more comfortable for this experiment of his,” Kam asked once Victor had walked away, his low, resonant voice amplifying the tickling sensation on her bare neck. Again, she experienced that heavy feeling in her lower belly and sex.
She blinked. What was wrong with her? This whole experience was bizarre. It was his similarity to Ian that was setting her off balance. She’d trained herself long ago to remain cool and professional with Ian Noble . . . even if in her deepest, secret self, her feelings for Ian were far from aloof. Only she knew that particular truth, however, although a couple of friends—namely, Richard St. Claire—seemed to have guessed it, much to her discomfort. She struggled to focus her errant thoughts. She would have defended herself better if she’d known how potentially volatile this situation would be.
“Is that what you call it? An experiment?” she asked crisply.
“I could come up with a more accurate description, but I’m not sure you’d like it.”
She laughed softly, glancing around when Victor set a glass of claret on the bar in front of her, along with some ice water. She thanked Victor and took a sip of wine, glancing sideways at Kam as she set down her glass. “I hope you don’t mind Ian suggesting that we meet. Work together.”
His gaze dropped slowly over her face, neck, and lower. “Now that I see you, I’m kind of warming up to the idea.”
She chuckled and shook her head, trying to shake off the spell again. Flirtation, she was used to. But who would have thought the alleged “wild man” of the French forest’s subtle sexual advances would be so appealing? Who would have thought she’d respond to him on such a basic level? The way Francesca and Ian had described Kam, she thought he’d be some kind of brilliant social misfit. True, he was raw and primal, but he was hardly illiterate.
And those eyes packed a precise, powerful sexual wallop.
Of course there had never been any doubt that Kam was a genius. What he’d pulled off in that makeshift, underground lab in northern France was nothing short of revolutionary. The question at hand was whether Kam would do middling well with his brilliant invention or sow the seeds to create an empire. Ian believed he had the potential to do the latter. Ian’s concern was that Kam would alienate every potential opportunity for capital and expansion on his climb up the ladder.
“Ian explained to me that you were doubtful about the idea of selling your biofeedback timepiece to the luxury watch industry. He thought I might be of some help in . . .”
“Making this whole ridiculous thing more palatable?” he murmured when she hesitated. She’d been trying to carefully choose her words. The truth was, Ian had taken her into his confidence, explaining that he hoped Lin could alleviate his brother’s doubts about the advisability of selling his revolutionary medical timepiece to the high-end watch industry. Kam had already sold his patent to one of the pharmaceutical giants for millions of dollars, the contract calling for an exclusivity clause that prevented him from selling to other pharmaceutical companies. But there was no prohibition from selling to unrelated industries. Ian thought that one of the sophisticated, groundbreaking mechanisms Kam had invented—a biofeedback timepiece that could do everything from tell time, to send warnings for an impending heart attack, to signaling to a woman when she was likely ovulating—would also be a smash hit in the luxury watch business. Lin and Lucien happened to agree. It would give him the cash he needed to begin a groundbreaking company at some future date. The problem was Kam’s condescending attitude about the industry.
To say the least.
Pair Kam’s scorn about cutting a deal with one of the luxury watch companies along with his rough manners, and it was a recipe for a business disaster. Thus the reason Ian had called in Lin to smooth over Kam’s jagged edges and present him in the best light possible to the interested buyers gathering in Chicago for a series of business dinners, presentations, and meetings.
Problem was, according to Ian, Kam would likely be insulted if he knew Ian had sent Lin to polish up a man who had once been considered an intimidating vagrant.
“Why do you find the idea of selling your invention to a high-end watch company ridiculous?” she asked.
“Look at me. I’m not interested in that world. I don’t cater to fashion or rich bastards,” he responded coldly, holding her stare. “It’s a waste. At least in my dealings with the pharmaceutical companies, I shared the commonality of science. Medicine.”
She considered him somberly before she responded.
“It makes sense. You hold
degrees in both biology and engineering as well as a medical degree from the Imperial College London. You received a highly esteemed scholarship to attend medical school there. I can understand how the world of luxury fashion might seem beneath your scholarly interests, but—”
She paused when he gave a harsh bark of laughter. “I’m no academic, either. I never finished my residency, and I don’t have a license to practice. I’m not being highbrow by saying I don’t want to work with the fashion industry.” He took a swig of his beer and set the glass back on the counter with a thud. “I just think the whole business is a waste of time, no pun intended. No offense intended, either,” he tagged on sheepishly with a flashing glance in her direction.
“None taken,” Lin replied evenly. “Of course you have to feel comfortable with such a large business venture. I think you might be underestimating the business savvy and brilliance of some of the leaders of these companies. Watchmaking is an ancient art that has also been a forerunner in miraculous advances in technology.”
“There isn’t a damn thing those suits can teach me about watchmaking.”
She absorbed his disdainful yet supremely confident manner. From what she’d learned from Ian, Kam wasn’t bluffing. When it came to both mechanical devices and the biological rhythms of the human body, Kam Reardon was a veritable da Vinci.
“This could be a very lucrative venture for you,” she reasoned.
He gave her a gleaming sideways glance, his eyes going warm as they wandered over her face. “How lucrative?”
“A hundred, possibly two hundred times more than the deal you cut with the pharmaceutical company for your device. Ian believes your invention deserves all the acknowledgment it can get. He wants you to have as much security as possible. This sale could give you even more working capital, a solid base for a future company.”
Kam rolled his eyes and exhaled with a hiss. “Ian’s got it all figured out, hasn’t he? He’s known we’re related for less than a year and already he’s pulling a big brother act on me.”
Lin smiled. “I hadn’t realized he was the elder of the two of you.”
“By a year and a half. Lucien is the oldest of us all. Six weeks ahead of Ian,” Kam said. She noticed him studying her face with a narrow-eyed gaze. Instinctively, she knew he wondered if Ian had told her about the background of their common heritage.
“Ian has explained to me about Trevor Gaines being his, Lucien’s, and your biological father,” she said without flinching.
“Did he also tell you that dear daddy was a fucked-up son of a bitch?” he asked with harsh flippancy, before he took a swallow of beer. Too flippant. She sensed the edge of anger beneath his unconcern this time. His description of Trevor Gaines was apt. The French aristocrat had been a sick SOB who got his thrills from impregnating as many women as he possibly could, whether by seduction, rape, or other unsavory means. Using those means, he’d gotten Lucien’s, Ian’s, and Kam’s mothers pregnant in a close span of time. There had been other victims, too. The newly discovered knowledge had nearly sent Ian over the edge when he’d learned of it last year. This much she knew: Kam came by his bitterness toward his father honestly.
“He told me,” she replied simply.
His tense expression relaxed somewhat when she offered no false platitudes in regard to the unthinkable crimes of the man who had created him.
“I’m having trouble finding uses for all the money I got with the pharmaceutical deal,” he said, changing the subject. “What am I supposed to do with a hundred times that amount?”
“Ian and Lucien both seem to think the capital will help you to buy more advanced laboratories and equipment that will spur you on to more creative heights of invention. You could potentially create a lasting company that could revolutionize the watchmaking and medical biofeedback industries—not to mention people’s everyday lives. You could provide thousands of jobs. Ian has a lot of faith in your brilliance, Kam. But in the end, if you can’t think of anything you’d do with the capital from another sale, then this entire conversation is pointless.”
His nostrils flared slightly as they faced off in the silence. Just beneath his obstinacy and wariness, she sensed he was listening.
“I’ve arranged meetings with three watch company representatives,” Lin said, sitting back slightly so that Victor could arrange bowls of Emile’s steaming, fragrant onion soup before them. “I can tell you with certainty that every one of my contacts is far from thinking it’s a waste of time, as you put it. They’re extremely interested in your product. Fascinated, in fact. They’re all very eager to see a firsthand demonstration of your product.”
“And to meet me,” Kam muttered.
She met his stare calmly. “And to meet you, yes. Thank you, Victor,” she said when the bartender handed her a black napkin. He knew the white ones left lint on her black skirts. She was in the process of smoothing the napkin over her thighs, when she glanced sideways.
Kam’s gaze was on her lap. As if he’d noticed her sudden stillness, his stare flicked up to her face. The heat she saw in his eyes seemed to set a spark to her flesh. Excitement bubbled in her, the strength of her reaction surprising her. She couldn’t deny it, this unexpected rush of lust.
It was because he looked so much like Ian that she was having this reaction. It must be that. The forbidden held the power to tantalize. God knew there was nothing more taboo than her boss. Ian Noble was the one thing she couldn’t have . . . could never have. Even if he was the only man she’d ever loved, he was off-limits to her, now more than ever since Francesca Arno had entered his life.
But his newly discovered brother wasn’t off-limits, Lin acknowledged as Kam’s hot, gray-eyed stare lowered to her mouth and she felt her nipples tighten as if by magic. No, Kam Reardon appeared to be about as available as she wanted him to be.
Chapter Two
Kam unglued his gaze from Lin Soong’s mouth with effort. She wasn’t what he’d expected.
Not in the slightest.
He’d caught her scent as they talked, and his cock had appreciated it even more wholeheartedly than his brain. When she’d moved her hands over her lap, it’d been like mainlining lust into his blood. How could a woman’s hands be so sexy? Watching her primly smooth the cloth napkin over her thighs had momentarily hypnotized him, not to mention made him go dry-mouthed. He couldn’t help but imagine her touching herself while she was completely naked, shapely hands gliding over lithesome thighs . . . between them. She had the most flawless skin he’d ever seen. He’d touched her on purpose. He’d never done that before when just meeting a woman . . . He’d wanted to put his hands on her so much it was like a mandate.
He didn’t need to guess that her skin would flow like silk beneath his discovering, hungry hand. She wasn’t built like the women he usually favored—robust, voluptuous women who wouldn’t quail at his demands in bed. No, she had a figure like an elegant wand, all compact, yet lush curves and graceful refinement. Fiercely feminine came to mind as an apt descriptor. Her effortless sense of chic defied description in any language he’d mastered. Her legs were long and shapely beneath the narrow skirt she wore. He hadn’t realized it was possible for a person to possess such a slender waist. If it weren’t for the suppleness of her movements and the sleek strength hinted at by her muscle tone, he’d worry he’d break her in bed.
Not that she would ever go to bed with him. That was just his cock spouting off, of course. Still, Kam was practical. He knew the game board had altered ever since he’d seen Lin walk into the restaurant; he just wasn’t sure how it would change yet.
He was captivated by even the smallest of her gestures. She was utterly perfect with her clothes on. He could only imagine the raptures of her naked body. Did a woman as graceful and sophisticated as Lin Soong purr in bed, or did she hiss and bare those small white teeth?
He mentally cursed his uncontrollable thoughts, reach
ing for the loaf of warm, crusty bread that Victor had set before them in a basket.
What was Ian thinking, sending him a woman that was so gorgeous, she was almost otherworldly? Was Lin Soong the enticement to come around to Ian’s way of thinking? Was Ian trying to prove to Kam there were indescribably worthwhile benefits to wealth and power? No wonder Ian grumbled that every chief executive officer and business mogul on the planet wanted to poach Lin Soong from him.
Too late, Kam realized he’d ravaged the bread with his rough hands. He glanced apologetically at Lin. Her face was still and calm as she watched him with large, dark eyes. Against his will, he imagined what it’d be like to have her look up at him with those eyes while his cock was harbored deep inside her, erupting.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, taking a piece of the torn loaf for himself and leaving a mangled portion in the basket.
“No problem.” She reached and ripped off a piece for herself, those hypnotizing white hands nearly as forceful as his had been. There was something sexy about her actions, knowing she didn’t disdain the place where his fingers had been . . . his touch. Blood pulsed into his cock. He shifted in the uncomfortable chair, grimacing. She picked up her spoon and matter-of-factly dipped the edge of her bread in the fragrant broth. Unable to look away, he watched her insert the corner of the bread between her lips and bite. His cock swelled and twitched. He tamped down an almost uncontrollable urge to nip at that mouth. It was small, but her dark pink lips were lush and shapely.
Her nostrils flared slightly as she returned his stare and chewed her bread, her expression a strange combination of calm innocence and complete understanding of what he was thinking.
Which was ridiculous. A woman like her would take offense at his pornographic thoughts.
Wouldn’t she?
“Should I explain what I have planned?” she asked in a low, melodious voice after she’d swallowed and tore off another piece of bread.
“Planned for what? The courtship of a bunch of rich stiffs who make status symbols for other rich stiffs that tell the rest of us peons loud and clear we’re not a part of their club?” he asked, his voice unintentionally harsh as he again ripped his attention off Lin. He began to eat mechanically, grunting softly in acknowledgment at the first savory bite of soup. Lin had been right. Her friend knew how to cook.