Since I Saw You (2 page)

“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.

K
am 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, reaching 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.

“If anything, they’ll be courting you, Kam.”

He met her stare at the sound of her saying his name.

“Will
you
be there?”

She blinked. “At the meetings? Of course. I thought you knew that. Ian thought I could help. Is that all right?”

He shrugged. “I don’t need any help. But seeing you again makes this whole thing interesting, at the very least.”

Her eyes widened. He’d gotten to her. He waited, curious as to how she’d respond.

“I thought you’d prefer to settle in and spend time with Ian and Lucien for the next few days. I’m out of town, anyway. So we’ll get things started on Thursday with two representatives from Gersbach,” Lin began, her manner abruptly brisk and businesslike. So, she was going to ignore his overture. “I wanted you to meet with them first, let them set the stage for what we’re dealing with here. As you probably know, Gersbach is the premier Swiss watchmaker. It’s a large company, but it’s still privately held by the Gersbach family. The family prefers doing business face-to-face. Otto Gersbach, the current chief executive officer, is carrying on the family tradition of sitting down with potential business partners, breaking bread together, really knowing one another on a personal basis.”

“If he values personal business transactions, it’s a wonder he doesn’t take offense at the idea of me meeting with his competitors.” He gave Lin a sideways glance and noticed her implacable features. “Oh, I see. He
doesn’t
know,” he added sardonically.

“I didn’t tell him outright, no,” she replied in an unruffled manner. She really was a cool one. He watched as she slipped the silver spoon between her lips. Her white, pearl-clad throat convulsed slightly as she swallowed. He mentally shouted at himself to look away. She was
too
cool to be making him so hot. The imbalance irritated him. Suddenly, the idea of him putting his rough hands all over her smooth body . . . of him sliding his big, aching cock into her sleek pussy, seemed about as likely as a balmy summer in Antarctica next year.

Still, a man could dream. When the fantasies were as hot as Lin inspired, he had no choice.

“But Otto likely suspects that he has competition for your product,” she continued. “He’s no fool.”

He paused in eating as she set down her spoon, turned to the chair next to her and retrieved her slim leather briefcase. She lifted it to her lap and extracted something from the pocket, her actions precise and graceful. He stared at the black-and-white photo of a fit-looking man in his late fifties with graying blond hair. He was sitting at a table covered with papers and his thin lips were opened as if he had been photographed speaking.

“Otto Gersbach,” Lin said. She placed another photograph on top of Otto. This one was of a good-looking, curvy blond woman in a business suit, walking through what appeared to be a large lobby. “And his daughter, Brigit. She’ll be there tomorrow night as well.”

“Where’d Ian hire you from? The CIA? These look like surveillance photos,” he said, both amused and disgusted. He liked Ian and respected his brain, but Kam valued his privacy and freedom too much to condone spying. Just one more reason to tread very carefully in the carnivorous world of high finance and business—

“Ian values preparation,” Lin said neutrally, interrupting his thoughts. “He likes to have every detail he possibly can available to him before he goes into a meeting.”

“And you help him do that,” Kam murmured, his narrowed gaze running over Lin’s stunning face. What
was
Ian and Lin’s relationship? He’d met Ian’s wife—Francesca—on several occasions and liked her very much. He knew Ian was crazy about her. Other women didn’t seem to exist for him with Francesca in the picture. The fact that Francesca was going to have his baby this winter cemented the idea in Kam’s head that Lin and Ian definitely were not romantically involved. But what about
before
Francesca had come on the scene? Surely his half brother wouldn’t have denied himself with this exquisite beauty efficiently meeting his every demand?

He let his spoon drop in the bowl with a loud
plink
at the thought.

“What lengths would you go to in the name of service to Ian?” he growled softly.

“What do you mean?” she asked, her smooth expression fracturing slightly. “Are you suggesting I’d do something illegal for my job?”

He tore apart a piece of bread and shot a pointed glance at the photos.

“Those photos were taken from a security feed at Noble Enterprises in public places. There’s nothing illegal about them,” she defended.

“How many photos of me did you review before you walked in here tonight?” he asked before he wolfed down several bites of soup.

“None, if you must know,” she said, and he was glad to hear the anger in her voice. Good to know there was some passion behind that perfect face and body.

“You said you’d recognize me anywhere.”

“Only because you look so much like Ian,” she blurted out heatedly. He met her stare, a little shocked by her outburst. She inhaled slowly, seeming to try and calm herself, and Kam realized she’d been shocked, too. “Trust me, I never saw any photos of you. If I had, I . . .” She paused and looked away. “Why don’t you tell me what’s really got you so prickly?”

He gave a rough bark of laughter and shoved back his bowl of soup. “You want my whole life story?”

“No, just the reason you’re so determined to dislike me,” she replied without pause.

His gaze dropped over her white throat to the exposed skin of her upper chest, above the neckline of the fitted sweater she wore. The garment was streamlined and chic, but included a ruffle around the wrists that he found sexy—a concession to her femininity. Her breasts looked like they’d fill the palm of his hand perfectly, not too large, not too small. They thrust erotically from the plane of her chest, pert, firm, soft seeming. They rose as she inhaled. He met her startled stare.

Not
like
her? What gave her that impression?

Maybe it’s because you know a woman like her would never give you the time of day if it weren’t for these unique circumstances. And you’re playing defense against that knowledge.

“I like you just fine,” he said honestly, ignoring the voice in his head and refusing to censor the heat in his tone.

Her lush, unadorned lips trembled slightly. He couldn’t take his eyes off them. She had to have the sexiest mouth he’d ever seen. He leaned in without conscious thought, a man who had caught the scent and was determined not to lose it.

“What do you mean by that? What if you
had
seen a photo of me?” he demanded quietly, their faces just inches apart.

“I would have been better prepared.”

“Too late,” he replied succinctly. He leaned closer still, her eyes drawing him in . . .

She blinked and started back. Victor had arrived with their entrees. The bartender flinched when he saw Kam’s furious scowl for having interrupted at such a crucial moment.

He could tell Lin was flustered as she asked Victor for another glass of wine and swallowed some ice water. Feeling a little guilty for coming on so strong, he let her talk business as they ate the steak. She’d been right yet again. The meal was delicious and more than satisfying. So was listening to her smooth voice and watching her.

She ate with a combination of elegance and genuine hunger that fascinated him. He’d wondered at one point if she was studying his table manners, determining whether or not he’d make a fool of himself by grabbing his food with his hands or using the wrong fork at one of these stuffy business dinners. Her face was very hard to read, however, if lovely to look at. He realized he was taking pains to revert to his college and medical school years in London in an attempt to appear more civilized and refined. Irritation flooded him.

Lin had been sent here to make him more comfortable in this proposed venture, not judge his rustic ways. He hadn’t adapted to polite society at his biological father’s hypocritical urgings, he reminded himself, despite his mother’s pleas for him to do so. He didn’t change for any woman, either. His experience with Diana had proven that. He couldn’t alter who he was.

He
wouldn’t.

“I understand from Ian that you appreciate art,” Lin said after they’d both finished their meal and lingered over their drinks.

“I like looking at it. Some of it, anyway,” he admitted gruffly. “I’m no aficionado like Ian or his grandparents. Don’t get your hopes up.”

“It doesn’t matter. The Gersbachs aren’t experts, either, just appreciative amateurs.”

“So you figured this art showing of Francesca’s at Lucien’s new hotel would be an icebreaker for the Gersbach meeting? Something to talk about over dinner other than the weather and everything we don’t have in common?” He shook his head.

“What?” she asked, her brows furrowing in bewilderment.

“You think of everything, don’t you?” he asked.

“I like to take control of whatever is in my power to control. There are always plenty of elements that I can’t control,” she said, giving him a small smile and a significant glance, “so it’d be foolish on my part not to get a good handle on what I can.”

“Elements like me, for instance?” he asked.

“I’d be a fool indeed if I thought I could control you,” she murmured, holding his stare. For a few seconds, Kam forgot the topic. She cleared her throat and looked away.

“Do you want to know anything else about the dinner tomorrow night?”

“You already supplied me with Otto and Brigit’s psychological profiles, including juicy details, like that Otto is a conservative control freak while Brigit is a little too
uncontrolled
with her love of men and scotch—something that infuriates Otto. I know their history, their hobbies, their politics, their favorite foods and vacation spots,” he said dryly. In truth, he was impressed. She was everything he’d come to expect from Ian’s references. He had the impression Lin Soong’s brain was like a vast warehouse filled with neat, meticulously kept files. All she had to do was mentally roll open an imaginary drawer and all the desired information she wanted was at her fingertips.