by Lily Cahill
She could have taken a seat at one of the plush booths, but Kam opted to sit at the bar. It was better for people watching, and Kam loved nothing more than observing people. As an archaeologist, it was her job to extrapolate how people had lived in eons past. Oddly, she sometimes felt she understood the ancient cultures she studied better than the people she dealt with every day.
She slipped onto the high-backed barstool and greeted the bartender. "Martini, please. Dry and dirty."
"Good choice," said a voice beside her.
Kam turned to see a man two seats down, offering her a small salute with his own martini glass. He was devastatingly handsome, with thick hair the color of honey, intelligent brown eyes, and a mouth made to kiss a woman senseless.
He also looked vaguely familiar. Kam was better with facts than with faces, but she couldn't shake the feeling she had seen him somewhere before. She flipped through her mental catalog, but couldn't place him anywhere.
"Didn't mean to bother you," he said with a shrug, and Kam realized she was scowling at him. Her "thinking" face. Her colleagues and friends knew not to be offended, but this man didn't know her well enough to understand she wasn't irritated with him.
She forced her features into a smile. "You're not bothering me. As for the martini, it seems like the sort of thing you have to order in a place like this. It makes me feel like Humphrey Bogart."
He returned her smile. "Not Lauren Bacall?"
"Nah. Bogey was the one who had the adventures." When the bartender set her drink in front of her, she lifted it to the man in salute. "Here's looking at you, kid."
He leaned over the empty seat between them to clink glasses with her. When Kam took a sip, the drink was cold, crisp, and perfect.
"Nothing goes quite as well with a steak. Best porterhouse in the city," he said, gesturing at his plate.
Kam's eyes widened at the generous slab of meat of his plate. "I'm thinking a filet mignon, personally. And some of those mashed potatoes. Ooh, and French onion soup," she said as she opened her menu.
"Save room for dessert," the man said, motioning as a waiter rolled past a tray of delectable sweets.
"Good Lord. They'll have to roll me back to the hotel."
The man smiled and applied himself to his steak. "You're just visiting Seattle then?"
"Just in town for the night," she said.
"Well, you picked a good spot for your dinner. Where are you from?"
There was no easy answer to that question. "At the moment, I'm living outside of Pasco."
"Do you teach at the college there?" the man asked.
She tilted her head. "Why do you ask that?"
"You look like a professor."
Kam thought of her glasses, long braid, and over-sized cardigan. "Frumpy and bookish?"
"Smart," he said, looking her up and down appreciatively. "Interesting. Like there's more to you than meets the eye."
Kam's heart rate spiked. Up until that moment, she had simply been making conversation. But now ....
The man wiped his hand on his napkin and reached out to shake. "I'm Caleb, by the way."
"Kam," she replied, laying her hand in his.
She felt a spark pulse up her arm. His hand tightened briefly on hers. Had he felt it too?
It had been seven months, sixteen days since the last time Kam had sex. She wasn't sure why that particular statistic flashed in her brain, but it did.
She took a sip of her martini to cover the sudden heat in her face. "Are you from Seattle?"
"Born and raised."
Something about his half-smile tickled something in her memory, but she couldn't figure out how she knew him. "And what do you do?"
He definitely looked amused now. "I'm in IT."
"Ah." Kam used computers, of course, but she relied on her partner Alex for anything beyond basic programs.
"It's a shame you're only in town for the evening. Seattle has more to offer than steaks."
There was something in his eyes ... like an invitation. "Is that so?"
"Oh, yes. You need a tour of the town."
Kam had studied flirtation techniques as an offshoot of her anthropological interest in commitment rituals across cultures, but she rarely engaged in the practice. Still, she had the skills. And she found herself wanting to use them.
She leaned toward him slightly, propping her head on her hand. "What would you show me, if I gave you the chance?"
His eyes warmed as he also leaned in. "What do you want to see?"
"The best the city has to offer."
His slow smile had a pulse beating low in Kam's belly. "You're showing excellent taste so far."
At that moment, the bartender approached. Kam placed her order and gave herself a moment to collect her thoughts.
She hypothesized that, given sufficient encouragement, this man might be willing to put an end to her months of celibacy. She wasn't opposed to a one-night stand. On the contrary--it would be best to avoid emotional entanglements, given the demanding nature of her work. Sex was a healthy outlet. Perhaps she should take advantage of the opportunity.
He certainly looked capable, she thought, watching him eat out of the corner of her eye. His arms and shoulders strained at the fabric of his shirt, giving her a hint of the muscles that lay beneath. Her palms tingled as she imagined running her hands over the contours of his chest. She was a little surprised by the vividness of her own fantasy. He was an excellent specimen of manhood, she told herself. She simply wanted to observe his form ... for scientific purposes.
He might not be interested, Kam considered. His attraction to her was a variable she couldn't control. Kam had grown up all over the world, and she understood that standards of beauty were a combination of evolutionary instinct and cultural mores. Not everyone would find her amber skin and defined features attractive. While her strong body and womanly curves had been worshiped by previous societies, modern culture tended to appreciate smaller, thinner women. It was simply a product of social conditioning.
Thinking about it scientifically always helped Kam when she felt inadequate.
She needed more information. She wished she could just ask for it straight out. Would you like to engage in safe, consensual, no-strings-attached sex this evening? But that wasn't how flirting worked. She had to reopen the conversation. "What's your favorite thing about Seattle?"
He sat back, touching his napkin to the corners of his mouth. Kam, who loved a hearty meal, was impressed to see he'd demolished most of his huge steak. "The history."
She had to laugh. "Seattle was founded in what, the 1800s?"
"1851," he said. "We've managed to pack quite a bit into a hundred and fifty years."
Kam had studied cultures that were thousands of years past. The Native American tribe she was studying now had been wiped out decades before the first settlers had come here. But still, history was history. "Like what?"
He raised his eyebrows. "Did you know the original Skid Row was here? It was named for the path the logs made as they came down toward the river?"
She cocked her head. "Did it have all the usual accoutrements of a slum?"
"All the crime, poverty, and prostitution a prospector could desire," he said with a laugh. "Of course, now it's one of the wealthiest parts of town."
It was Kam's turn to laugh. "That's the problem with cities. Always something new."
"See, that's my favorite part," he said, turning toward her in his chair. "History is just time in layers, and each generations decides what to build or erode."
Kam felt a tickle of interest that had more to do with her mind than her body. She ignored it. She was supposed to be flirting with this man. Still, she was interested in his opinion. "And how has that history influenced Seattle?"
"It represents Seattle in a lot of ways. The city may seem straight-laced and restrained on the surface, but just beneath there's all this vice and sin."
Kam licked her lips. She hadn't intentionally used the flirting technique,
but Cal's eyes were drawn to her mouth all the same. "That's interesting. I find that cultures are often defined by what they consider sins."
He smiled. "Why does being bad always feel so good?"
Kam decided in that instant. She was going to put considerable effort into having sex with this man.
But first, she had a dinner to enjoy. She smiled as the bartender set a heavy plate in front of her. "Well, I'm about to be very, very bad."
Chapter Two
Kamilah
Kam and Caleb left the warm restaurant arm-in-arm. The rain was still falling in thick sheets, but now it struck her as cozy rather than depressing. She had three martinis heating her up from within, and Caleb's warm body at her side.
Over dinner, they'd chatted about Seattle and the other cities they had both visited. It turned out that Caleb was quite the traveler--he had been to nearly as many places as she had. They agreed that Rome was overrated and Macedonia was a hidden gem. He hadn't spent as much time in museums as she had, but he had worked more adventure and leisure into his travel itineraries. She got the impression that he would be a good travel companion, which, in her estimation, was high praise.
Caleb popped open his umbrella and snuggled them both beneath it. His arm was wrapped around her shoulder, his hand resting decorously on her arm, but it somehow felt so intimate Kam wanted to shudder.
"It's just a couple of blocks. Do you mind walking? I love the rain."
"No," Kam said. It gave her more time to enjoy the delicious sensation of being close to him. "This weather doesn't depress you? This city has a high incidence of Seasonal Affective Disorder."
He chuckled. "Thanks, Professor. No, the rain doesn't get to me that way. I grew up here. To tell the truth, I get antsy when there's too much sunshine."
"That's how I feel about too much concrete."
"Well, soon you'll be back in the wilds of eastern Washington. I hope you're enjoying yourself in the city, at least a little bit."
She looked up at him through her lashes. "My night is going better than I anticipated."
"Let's see if we can keep that going," he said, letting his hand slide around to her lower back. The heat of his roving fingersseemed to activate a shared heat inside her.
She caught a glint of gold on the lapel of his jacket. "That's an interesting pin."
Caleb glanced at the pin on his overcoat. "Thank you."
She peered at the pin, trying to get a better look at it. The lines of it were interesting; she couldn't quite tell if they were meant to represent something. "It looks quite old. Is it an antique?"
"An heirloom," he said. "Look here, Professor. This is the oldest bar in Seattle."
She looked up, taking in a corner bar that was doing a brisk business. Behind the neon beer signs, she could see the touches of a previous century. The heavy oak door was inlaid with stained glass, and the ironwork above the doorway had been lovingly restored.
"Do you want to go in?" Caleb asked.
Kam shook her head. The martinis were still swimming in her system. "Show me more," she said.
Even with the rain falling, there were still plenty of people in the streets. He led her through Seattle's Pioneer Square, pointing out the old buildings that had once housed bars and brothels. They had been replaced by shops and art galleries, but if Kam ignored the more obvious signs of modernism she could almost imagine how the city had looked a century ago.
Chinese and Japanese immigrants, who had crossed an ocean to get here, would have come face to face with the Europeans who ventured across the continent. Together, they had built this city. She knew better than anyone, though, how quickly a city could fall. A hundred and fifty years from now, would some archeologist be digging into the foundations of this city the way Kam was digging into the Yursui site?
Would they have clearer answers than she did?
"Is everything all right?"
Kam shook off her musings. "Yes. Just thinking about work."
He chuckled softly. The sound echoed under the umbrella, as if they were in a cave. "Well, that puts me in my place."
"What do you mean?"
"I can't think of anything but kissing you."
Kam sucked in a breath. "You're direct."
"Is that a problem?"
"No," she said. "I appreciate it. It's more efficient than relying on social cues, which are easy to misinterpret."
He stopped and turned her to look at him. "Have I been misinterpreting your social cues?"
There was amusement in his eyes, but she thought she recognized desire as well. Gods, he was handsome. Her gaze drifted down to his mouth, watching his lips curve into a confident smile.
She frowned. Hadn't she employed her flirting techniques correctly? "You haven't misinterpreted a thing. Though I have to wonder why you've been thinking about kissing me without doing a thing to make it a reality."
He laughed, pulling her closer. "I'm not sure. Why don't we find out?"
Images flashed in her mind--his mouth at her breast, his hands on her hips, his tanned skin under his hands. Despite the cold rain, heat was rising inside her. She pressed her lips together, but it wasn't enough--she wanted the pressure of his mouth on hers.
"Why don't we?" she whispered, then rose on her toes to kiss him.
He met her halfway, his mouth as hot and eager as her own. Kam's heart sped as desire roared to life. His mouth was even better than she'd imagined, somehow soft and hard at once. When his tongue touched hers she wrapped her arms around his neck. She was suddenly shaky on her feet.
His hand pressed into her back, drawing her closer to the hard planes of his chest. The umbrella was lodged between them, and she realized he had freed his other hand so he could run it up under her braid, cupping the back of her neck.
She loved this--the freedom of letting her body rule, when she spent so much of her life controlled by her mind. All she could think was that she wanted more of him, more, and ran her hands down his chest, desperate to feel his skin. There were layers of buttoned fabric between them, but she swore she could feel the wild drumbeat of his heart.
Suddenly the umbrella tipped, and they were both drenched with freezing rain. Kam shrieked in surprise, instinctively pulling away. But he simply moved the umbrella back over their heads and pulled her back in.
"Isn't kissing in the rain supposed to be romantic?" he said, his voice husky.
"Maybe in places where the rain is warm," Kam said, teeth chattering.
"Do you want to go somewhere and ... warm up?"
She could tell by the tone in his voice what he was really asking. And she knew her answer. "How about your place?"
Chapter Three
Caleb
Caleb Ingram had been through plenty of one-night stands. He considered himself an expert at one-night stands. He knew how to woo a woman, charm her, satisfy her, and leave her the next day with no hard feelings.
Though he never tired of women, the thrill of the chase had begun to wear off lately. These days, his reputation seemed to do most of the work for him. Perhaps he shouldn't have "dated" all those starlets. He'd ended up with his face splattered all over the tabloids. That wasn't so bad. But his reputation as a billionaire playboy made getting women too easy, just like everything else.
The truth was, he was bored. Bored of his multi-billion dollar tech company, bored of extreme sports, bored of world travel. The only thing that didn't bore him was his secret life as a bear shifter, but he couldn't spend all his time as an animal.
And he was not yet completely bored of women.
This one--Kam--was more intriguing than the rest. For one thing, she had a brain. A quick, complex brain that seemed to keep up with his own. For another, he was fairly certain she didn't recognize him. Which said something about her interests. She didn't care about big business, or tabloid gossip.
But she still wanted him, knowing next to nothing about him. She seemed perfectly willing to use him for his body, without having any interest in hi
s money or his connections. Which, he admitted, was fine with him. Plenty of people looked at him and saw only his wallet.
He could feel the heat of her body where she was pressed against him in the cab. His arm was around her shoulder, tracing little circles on her arm, and her fingers were tracing the same circles on his thigh. She wasn't looking at him, but he could tell from the way she was taking deep, slow breaths that she was just as worked up as he was.
She definitely wasn't his usual type. The last few women he'd been with had been actresses who, in the sack, were more interested in their performance than their pleasure. Their hair was always perfectly tumbled, their bodies perfectly hairless, their faces perfectly made up. Fucking a Barbie doll had seemed like a great idea, until he'd actually done it.
Kam, on the other hand, was about as far from a Barbie as a woman could get. Her short, curvy body swelled and dipped under his hands, driving him crazy with the need to squeeze and knead. He started to do just that, rubbing his way down her arm. Just a little closer to those gloriously heavy breasts that he couldn't wait to bury his face in.
She inhaled sharply. In the flickering light of the passing street lamps, he could see that she was biting her lip. Then, in the darkness of his lap, her hand began to massage its way up his thigh.
Caleb caught his breath. He was already hard, but the slow progress of her hand had his cock straining against his pants.
He glanced up at the street signs. They were still six blocks from his condo. The cabbie met his eyes in the rear view mirror for an instant--long enough to remind Caleb that they weren't alone. The driver couldn't see Kam's hand in Caleb's lap, though. Just as he couldn't see Caleb's hand slipping down to cup Kam's hip.
She shifted slightly, giving him more access. He slipped his thumb into the sensitive crevice between her torso and her thigh and was rewarded with a faint gasp. Her body arched, as if she wanted his touch on those glorious breasts. Well, she was going to get it, he thought. Her hand was inching ever closer to his cock, so close he could barely breathe. She had to feel the way the fabric of his pants was stretched over his hard cock. She had to know that if she moved her hand just a few more centimeters ....