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.”

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“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.




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