Beth Kery - Because We Belong

“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.