by Kery, Beth
“I know—the accent. Not that he said much. He’s been sitting at the bar looking like he’s been chewing nails for the past ten minutes. Victor doesn’t know if he’s scared to death of the man or in love with him,” Richard murmured, referring to the bartender serving Kam. Indeed, Victor was surreptitiously studying the tower of whiskered, glowering brawn seated at the bar with a mixture of wariness and stark admiration as he dried a glass.
Lin threw her friend an amused glance and walked over to meet Ian’s brother. Kam was one of the few people seated at the teak bar, a half-full glass of beer in front of him.
“I’m so sorry for being late. Work was crazy, and there wasn’t a single available cab to be found when I finally did get away. You must be Kam. I’d have recognized you anywhere,” she said when she approached him, smiling in greeting. “Ian never told me how much you two resembled one another.”
He turned slightly in his chair, giving her an unhurried once-over. She remained completely still beneath his perusal, her expression calm and impassive. Inwardly, she squirmed. Ian had also failed to warn her of the fact that Kam Reardon oozed raw sex appeal.
Although it couldn’t have been any more than a second that he studied her, it felt like minutes before he finally met her stare. She recognized the sharp edge of male appreciation in his eye. A strange sensation rippled down her spine. Was it excitement? Or that uncommon brand of lust that strikes like lightning during a rare, uncommon rush of attraction. His face and form were similar to Ian’s, although up close, there were notable differences: the nose was slightly larger, the skin swarthier, the mouth fuller, the hair not quite as dark, with hints of russet in the thick waves. Ian would certainly never go into public with a day-and-a-half growth of dark stubble on his jaw. Although Kam’s clothing was suitable for the restaurant, it was far more casual than Ian’s typical Savile Row suits. It was like seeing Ian in some kind of magical mirror—a shadowy, savage version of her debonair boss. Kam’s silvery gray eyes with the defining black ring around the iris were certainly strikingly unique. Or at least the effect they had on Lin was.
“Ian probably never noticed our similarity. He’s never seen me without a full beard,” he replied. Another stark difference. Much like her grandmamma, who had learned English in Hong Kong, Ian’s accent was all crisp, cool control. This man’s French-accented, rough voice struck her like a gentle, arousing abrasion along the skin of her neck and ear.
She put out her hand. “I’m Lin Soong. As you probably already know, I work for Ian. I can’t tell you what a pleasure it is to finally meet you.”
He took her hand but didn’t shake it, merely grasped it and held on. His hand was large and warm, encompassing her own. The pad of his forefinger pressed lightly against her inner wrist.
“Does my brother make a habit of overworking minors?” he asked.
She flushed, the temporary trance inspired by his voice and touch fracturing. She knew she looked younger than her age, especially with her makeup faded from the mist and her hair curling around her face like a dark cloud. Besides, she was young for the position she held at Noble Enterprises as Ian’s right-hand woman.
“I’m hardly a minor. Ian seems to find me capable enough for all my duties,” she said smoothly, arching her brows in a mild, amused remonstrance.
“No doubt.” His finger moved on her wrist and she suddenly pulled her hand away, afraid he’d notice the leap in her pulse.
“Actually, I’m twenty-eight,” she said.
“Isn’t that young for the position you hold at Noble Enterprises? Ian can’t seem to function without you,” he said, studying her narrowly.
“You might say I was groomed for the role. My grandmother was the vice president of finance for Noble. She’d get me summer internships during college and graduate school.”
“And one day you ended up in Ian’s lap?” he asked, silvery-gray eyes gleaming with what appeared to be a mixture of humor and interest. “Does your grandmother still work for Ian?”
“No. She passed two years ago this Christmas.”
Her breath stuck when he reached around her waist. Was he going to touch her? She jumped slightly when a chair leg made a scraping sound on the wood floor. She exhaled when she realized he was pulling back on the chair next to him so that she could sit.
“Our table is actually ready,” she explained.
“I’d rather eat at the bar.”
“Of course,” she said, refusing to be flustered. She set down her briefcase in the seat next to her and reached for her chair. A frown creased his brow and he stood. “Thank you,” she murmured, surprised when she realized he’d grudgingly stood to seat her. Maybe he wasn’t so rough around the edges after all.
“You’re a cool one,” he said as he sat back down next to her, his jeans-covered knees brushing her hip and thigh.
“What do you mean?”
He shrugged slightly, his gaze glittering on her face. “I thought you’d take offense to sitting at the bar.”
“Don’t you mean you’d hoped I would?” she challenged quietly. She transferred her gaze to Victor when the bartender approached, speaking before Kam had a chance to refute her. “Victor often serves me at the bar when I stumble in after a long day’s work. He takes good care of me,” she said.
“It’s always a pleasure. The usual, Ms. Soong?” Victor asked.
“Yes, thank you. And will you please let Richard know he can give our table to someone else?”
Victor nodded, giving Kam a nervous, covetous glance before he walked away.
“Goodness, what did you do to that poor man?” Lin asked in a hushed tone, leaning her elbows against the bar and meeting Kam’s gaze with amusement.
“Nothing. I asked him to give me a beer.”
“That’s all?” Lin asked doubtfully.
He shrugged unconcernedly. “Maybe not. Might have said something like, ‘Forget all that crap and just give me a damn beer.” He noticed her upraised eyebrows. “He was trying to get me to buy some fancy drinks and two bites of food and a sprinkle on a plate.”
“Imagine him suggesting you eat and drink in a restaurant.”
Much to her surprise, he grinned full out, white teeth flashing against his dark features. “The guy’s got balls, doesn’t he?”
Lin forced herself to look away from the magnetic sight of Kam Reardon’s smile. It was a tad devilish, no doubt, and full-out sexy, but there was also just a hint of shyness to him in that moment, as if his interest was unexpectedly piqued by meeting her. And like her, he hadn’t been prepared for it. It was potent stuff, to be sure. Perhaps she could forgive Ian for not giving her warning about his half brother, but surely his new wife, Francesca—as a fellow female—should have hinted at something that might prepare her for the impact of Kam.
“Most people who belly up to the bar expect a friendly chat with the bartender,” she chided lightly.
“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 over 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 intimate. Too much so for having just met. She instinctively glanced downward, taking in his crotch and strong, jeans-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 jibe that he’d intended to offend her. “I’m more comfortable here. I don’t like fancy places like this,” he said, glancing around without moving his head.
“I’m sorry,” she said, meaning it. “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 over me—when you walked in?”
She stared at him, aghast. “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 if 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 flagrant 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 glad 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 often hungry Frenchmen themselves, after all.”
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?” he asked once Victor had walked away, his low, vibrating voice amplifying the tickling sensation on her bare neck. Again, she experienced that warm, 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 herself knew that particular truth, however, although a couple friends seemed to have guessed at 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 having less of a problem with 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’s subtle sexual advances would be so appealing? The way Francesca and Ian had described Kam, she’d thought he’d be some kind of 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 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, his 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 ovulating—would also be a smash hit in the luxury watch business. Lin happened to agree. The problem was, Kam’s attitude was condescending about the industry.
To say the least.
Pair Kam’s scorn about cutting a deal with one of the luxury watch companies 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, homeless 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, 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.
“Yes. I understand you hold degrees in both biology and engineering from Imperial College, and that you received an esteemed scholarship to medical school there, as well. I can understand how the world of luxury fashion might seem beneath your scholarly interests, but—”
She paused when he gave a bark of harsh laughter. “I’m no academic, either. I never finished my residency. 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, he 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?”
“Twenty, possibly a hundred times more than the deal you cut with the pha
rmaceutical company for your device. Ian believes your invention deserves all the acknowledgments it can get. He wants you to have as much security as possible.”
Kam rolled his eyes and exhaled with a hiss. “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, referring to a third half brother, Lucien Lenault. 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 haven’t got much use for all the money I received from the pharmaceutical deal,” he said, turning 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 build more advanced laboratories and equipment. You could potentially create a lasting company that could revolutionize the watchmaking and medical biofeedback industries and 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.”
