by BETH KERY
“I’ll say you weren’t. You were acting like a bully.”
His eyes flared with anger, but then he briefly closed them and inhaled.
“You’re right. I deserve that,” he said stiffly.
Her gaze narrowed as she stepped toward him. “It would have been one thing if you were just being an oaf. But you were being intentionally rude. You were trying to be hurtful. Why?”
He blinked, grinding his jaw, looking like he was “chewing metal” as Richard had put it. “When I saw you getting dressed that night when I came out of the bathroom, I realized you were done with me,” he suddenly bit out.
Her expression went flat. A tingling sensation swept along her limbs. A car horn beeped loudly as traffic passed, but it barely penetrated Lin’s awareness.
“It suddenly hit me how truly unlikely it would be that a woman like you would have initiated something with me,” Kam said.
“So you accused me of going to bed with you on Ian’s orders?” she clarified quietly.
He shrugged and glanced uncomfortably out at the street. “I knew I was wrong almost the second I walked out your door. But if I hadn’t fully guessed how wrong I was then, I would have this morning.”
Lin took another step closer. For the first time since they’d slept together she looked straight into his eyes. He noticed and glanced down at her. She thought she really did see regret mixing with irritation in the light-infused, silvery depths. She got the distinct impression the frustration she witnessed was with himself. “What do you mean?” she asked. “What happened this morning?”
“Ian seemed genuinely put off by your . . . presentation in his office earlier. There’s no way in hell he could have asked you to tango with me purposefully,” Kam scoffed. “If he had, he wouldn’t have seemed so stunned by the way you acted. He seemed completely out of the loop for once in his life.”
“Tango with you?” she clarified, amused despite her determination to keep him at arm’s length.
“Face it. I set you off balance,” he said, leaning down slightly, a small smile tilting his lips.
She blinked, unsteadied yet again. “Your cockiness is epic,” she said in mixed amazement and irritation, forgetting momentarily that he’d just admitted point-blank a weakness to her. He’d been as vulnerable as she had been after they’d had sex.
“Only if it works,” she thought she heard him mutter under his breath in a thick accent. “Will you have lunch with me?” he asked, his gaze sinking slowly to her mouth in a familiar way that she recognized from the other night. Heat rushed through her, testing her straining defenses.
“I told myself I was going to steer clear of you, Kam.”
“Why?” he asked, taking a step closer, so that the placket of his open shirt brushed against her coat. She found herself staring up into those magnetic eyes. She was nearly as close as she had been Monday night when they lay side by side, both of them turned inside out by thunderous climaxes. “I apologized, didn’t I?” he reminded her quietly. “I know when I make a mistake. Or are you one to hold a grudge?”
“No, it’s not that. I appreciate your apology,” she admitted. “It’s just . . . you’re trouble.”
“As a rule?” he murmured. “Or for you in particular?”
She hesitated. “Both, I think.”
“Best news I’ve had all day.”
Something hitched in her chest when she saw the smile in his eyes.
“At least have lunch with me. It’s boring in that hotel room all alone.”
“You said you wanted to be alone. You’ve lived in isolation for almost all of your adult life,” she reminded him.
“But always with something to do. I don’t like being bored.”
“There’s a fantastic workout facility at the Trump Tower hotel.”
“I already used it today.”
“You could take a tour of the city. Or I could plan a tour for you at a Noble Enterprises manufacturing plant.”
“Ian is going to take me out to a plant next week to show me around. We planned it today during the tour downtown. But if you know of any other technology or telecommunication sector companies I might visit while I’m here, I’d be interested,” Kam said, surprising her. He leaned in and said with mock confidentiality, “And you don’t even have to hold my hand during the tours if you don’t want to.”
“Kam, I’m not trying to patronize you. I’m trying to help.”
“I know that, and you will,” he said so earnestly he took her off guard. “But what I want to do right now is take you to lunch. Please?” he prodded, probably sensing her crumbling resistance.
She hesitated.
“I don’t want Ian to know. Or Francesca. Or anyone,” she stated finally.
“About today?”
“I haven’t done anything regrettable today with you, except for lose my temper in Ian’s office.” Not yet, you haven’t, a knowing voice in her head sneered. She suppressed it with effort. “I meant I don’t want you making Monday night public.”
“Because Ian is your boss?”
“Because I don’t want him to know,” she repeated.
He shrugged in that insouciant way of his. “Fine. It makes no difference to me. Ian isn’t my concern. Not at the moment, he isn’t.”
She hesitated but then noticed his small smile. A thrill prickled through her. That grin was piratical, yes, and daring, but there it was . . . that hint of shyness. She shouldn’t, but that smile told her she would.
“I have a feeling I’m going to regret this,” she said in a hushed tone.
“Sometimes the risk is the only thing that makes something worthwhile.”
Before she could respond, he’d taken her hand in his and was leading her to the curb to hail a cab.
• • •
“I read about it in a travel magazine while I was at school in London and always wanted to come,” Kam said by way of explanation when they pulled up to a restaurant and Lin stared out the window in amazement. She glanced around curiously when Kam held the cab door open for her and helped her alight onto the sidewalk. They were in the midst of an established North Side neighborhood. Kids played in the schoolyard across the way. Neat brick row houses lined the street for blocks.
“Lou’s Ribs and Pizza,” she read the sign in the window. The building looked like it’d gone through its share of years and renovations. It was a hodgepodge of materials from different eras.
“You’ve never been here?” Kam said as he walked ahead of her and opened the door.
“No,” Lin admitted. She followed him into a surprisingly crowded bar and eating area. A jukebox played a muted pop classic, and people chatted at booths and tables. Everyone’s conversation automatically went up in volume when someone turned on a blender behind the bar, as if the crowd was accustomed to the sound. “It’s doing a good business for weekday lunch. How in the world did you know about a neighborhood place like this?”
“I told you, I read about it when I was in college. It’s known for ribs and deep-dish pizza and incredible milk shakes. It’s been around forever. Frank Sinatra used to come here with his buddies. It’s crowded today because there’s a Cubs game at three. You grew up in Chicago and never heard of Lou’s?”
She shrugged apologetically. “I guess it took a Frenchman to introduce me to something in my own hometown. Besides, my grandmother was a vegetarian. She was very selective about where we ate.”
“You’re more used to places like Savaur or one of Lucien’s restaurants, but it wouldn’t hurt you to step out a little.” A flicker of irritation went through her at his smug certainty, but she quashed it as she glanced around at the homey restaurant. Maybe he was right. Maybe she should expand the boundaries of her world a little.
A stocky woman wearing an apron over stretchy polyester pants approached them. “We’re full at the moment. G
ive me fifteen minutes?”
“What about those two?” Kam asked, pointing at two empty stools at the bar. The woman looked doubtfully at Lin’s high heels and lightweight tailored coat, then more appreciatively at Kam. Again, Lin had chosen Kam’s clothing: a pair of jeans, a white shirt that set off swarthy skin, and a rugged gray overshirt that doubled as a jacket for the pleasantly cool fall weather. He fit in here. The waitress’s glance told her clearly she did not.
“They’re yours if you want them,” the woman conceded with a shrug.
Lin smiled at Kam and nodded. He took her coat and hung it on a coat rack at the front of the bar.
“Belly up to the bar yet again,” he said quietly when he returned and sat next to her, leaning his elbows on the scarred, yet gleaming walnut bar.
Lin glanced away, unsure what to say to that. She was strangely happy to be there with Kam in the bustling restaurant, but she was torn by that happiness. He’d been very rude to her Monday night, but she’d believed his apology. She’d actually been touched by his admission of vulnerability. That wasn’t what was bothering her.
“You mentioned earlier that Ian was upset by what happened in his office this morning?” she asked with forced casualness.
“Not upset. No,” Kam said, his gaze running over her face. She schooled her features into a neutral expression. “He was more surprised. I’ve only seen Ian riled a few times. Even when he got shot, Ian was calm,” Kam mused, referring to a horrifying event that had occurred earlier this year when Ian’s cousin Gerard Sinoit betrayed Ian and shot him in the shoulder. Kam had saved Ian and Francesca on that occasion. “He was just put-off, ” Kam explained presently. “I got the impression he’s not used to seeing you rattled.”
“I wasn’t rattled. I was . . .”
“Pissed off and good,” he finished for her.
“Thank you,” Lin said to the bartender when he set down two ice waters and a menu before them. “What did Ian say, exactly?”
Kam didn’t reply immediately, just took a sip of ice water and idly watched the bartender making a milk shake behind the bar. The machine made a discordant clunk, clunk, clunk sound.
“He was a bit shocked at the idea that I told you that you take your job too seriously. According to Ian—and to a few other people I’ve talked to—Lin Soong and her work are practically synonymous.”
She sat back. “You were talking to other people about me?”
“Not anything major. People talk,” he said impassively.
“Especially when you ask,” she returned wryly.
“Nobody has explained one thing. Why does a gorgeous, single woman bury herself in her work to the exclusion of almost everything else?” he asked, watching her with a sidelong stare.
“Why don’t you tell me why a good-looking, brilliant man with the potential to do anything he wants in life lives holed up in an underground laboratory for years?” She picked up her menu and studied it, but he continued to look at her. She knew he did because her cheeks heated beneath his steady gaze. He leaned closer.
“Maybe Francesca and Elise and some of the people at Noble have it all wrong. You do appear to be secretive,” he mused, choosing to ignore her question. Like it had in the restaurant on Monday night, his low, confidential growl caused the tiny hairs on her neck and ear to prickle in awareness. “Maybe you do have a man stashed away somewhere, someone you carefully hide from Ian.”
She dropped her menu to the bar with a slapping sound. “Why would I do that?”
“You tell me.”
She shot him a glare and really tried to read the menu this time instead of just pretending she was. “For your information, I’ve introduced several men to Ian over the years. Francesca has even met a few of my dates.”
“Several, huh? Nothing sticks?”
She was glad that the round, harried-looking bartender chose that moment to come and get their order. She ordered a salad, ignoring Kam’s frown of disapproval. He ordered a small stuffed pizza, a large chocolate shake, and a rib dinner.
“Hungry, are you?” she asked, chin in her hand, watching him as the bartender walked away. He placed his elbow on the bar next to hers. A prickle of awareness went through her at the feeling of him pressing lightly against her. The fabric of the shirt she’d purchased for him was thick and hardy, a stark contrast to the sheer, insubstantial fabric of her dress’s sleeve.
“I had to order all the specialties since you were being such a spoilsport and ordered a salad.”
“I like to eat light for lunch. You’ll regret not doing the same when you’re served Elise’s food tonight at Frais and don’t have room for it. Your sister-in-law is a fabulous chef.”
“You don’t have to tell me that. I just had one of her breakfasts this morning.” He took a swallow of ice water. “And she’s cooked for us at Aurore Manor when she and Lucien were visiting. I won’t regret a damn thing about ordering this food, though. And don’t think I’m sharing any of my ribs and pizza.”
“Fine with me,” she said with determined unconcern. He rolled his eyes.
“All right,” he said with an air of being strong-armed, his gaze dipping to her mouth. “I’ll share.”
She smiled. Why did she always feel that shift in her lower belly and sex when his stare sunk to her mouth like that? It was like he could stroke the very deepest pit of her being with his eyes. The lighting in the bar probably didn’t change much from day to night given the three solitary windows all the way at the front. In the dimness, Kam strongly resembled Ian. Was that the real reason for that delicious sensation? Somehow, she didn’t think so.
A question wormed its way into her entrancement.
“Do you?” she asked quietly. His brows quirked slightly in puzzlement, so she clarified. “Have a woman back in France, I mean? Someone special?”
“I wouldn’t have had sex with you last Monday night if there was someone special.”
“That’s good to know,” she said, her gaze dropping at the mention of them having sex. It sounded illicit and exciting murmured in Kam’s rough, accented voice. Not to mention how him speaking the words caused graphic snippets of erotic memories to flash across her brain.
You want it now, ma petite minette? You want it fast and hard?
“Good to know I have a smattering of basic morality, you mean?” he asked.
“You aside, Kam,” she said, recovering from the charged memory. “It’s a good thing for any woman in this situation to hear.”
There was a loud metallic grinding sound from behind the bar and the bartender cursed. Kam winced slightly, but neither of them broke their stare.
“Ian never talked to you about it?” Kam asked.
“About what?”
“About me . . . and women.”
Now she was confused. “I thought you said there wasn’t anyone.”
“Not anyone special.”
She blinked. “Oh, I see. There are women, in the plural sense. The non-special variety. What does Ian know about it?”
His expression went blank. “Nothing.”
She gave an exasperated sigh. “Then what would he have to tell me if he knew nothing? He stayed with you on several occasions at Aurore. Aren’t you suggesting he knew something about your comings and goings?” She flushed. Comings and goings. Every word she used with him seemed to take on a sexual tinge.
The bartender was now cursing in subdued tones while the woman who had come to seat them barked instructions at him. Kam’s impassive expression didn’t give.
“Okay, so we’re not going to talk about it,” she said.
He sighed in a beleaguered fashion. “No, it’s not that. Just . . . excuse me for a moment.”
“Okay.” Was he irritated at her probing? Maybe he was going to use the men’s room. She sat forward curiously when instead of walking toward the rear of the establishm
ent where the restrooms were located, he calmly walked around the bar. The waitress immediately noticed his tall, formidable and uninvited form behind the bar, but the bartender kept wrestling with and poking at a countertop shake freezer and blender, cursing. Kam thumped the bartender on the shoulder.
“Do you mind?” he asked, pointing at the machine.
“Be my guest,” the bemused-looking bartender said after a second, stepping aside.
Kam had caught the attention of everyone sitting at the bar now, not just Lin. He stepped up to the machine and opened a utility cover. For a moment, he just studied the whole unit. Lin had the impression he was absorbing the machine somehow. It was a little how she felt whenever he looked at her with his laserlike stare that seemed to see more than just the surface, like he was examining her component parts and analyzing how they all worked together. She couldn’t say precisely what he did next, but if she had to describe it, she’d say he flipped one thing, twisted another, and jerked a third: one, two, three, quick as counting up to something good.
He turned on a switch and the blender made the familiar monotonous roar Lin had heard sporadically when they first entered.
“I hadn’t even noticed it was broken. That was nice of you to fix it,” Lin said in amazement when he sat down again next to her at the bar a moment later, waving off the bartender’s profuse thanks with a look of vague discomfort on his face.
“Not really,” he said, his mouth curled in a self-derisive expression. “I wanted my milk shake.”
“That’s not it,” she said quietly after studying him closely for several seconds. “It bothered you. Having something out of joint . . . broken in your vicinity. Didn’t it?”
He frowned, not replying for a moment.
“I can’t stand to be around a machine that doesn’t work. It’s like they call out to me. Scream at me. It’s been that way for as long as I can remember.”
She recalled him reading her body the other night with his touch. “And with human beings? Is it the same? Is that why you studied medicine?”