“Or will ever know,” Lin said with a pointed glance. She shut her eyes, pressing lightly on her burning eyelids. She was alarmed to feel her hand trembling.
“Do you think Ian would show you the same loyalty, Lin?”
She looked up slowly at the sound of his sober question. Richard winced at whatever he saw on her face.
“Aw, sweetie. I’m sorry,” he groaned, standing.
“I’m not even sure how I do feel about Ian, despite all your confidence on the matter,” she exclaimed. “I really can’t think about all this right now. I have to get ready. I have to go—”
“To work,” Richard finished. “I know. Work is the place where you make everything in your world right. I respect that. I adore you. Just forget what I said. Thanks for the tissues. I’d give you a hug, but I don’t want to spread the plague, so I’ll just say ‘don’t worry.’ It’s all going to work itself out. You’ll see.”
“Thanks. I have some homemade soup in the freezer. It’s not the hot-and-sour, but it’ll still be good for your throat,” she said, leading him out of the room.
“Merci, ma poupée,” Richard said gratefully when she handed him the container of soup in a plastic bag. “We’ll talk more later, yes?”
Lin just nodded, sure her heart was on display in her eyes, and watched her friend leave the kitchen.
• • •
Kam resisted a nearly nonstop urge to rip at his shirt collar and give himself a little breathing room. Fucking tux. No wonder they called businessmen stiffs. These clothes were made for masochists, not men. Someone tapped him on the shoulder. He spun around and saw a startled-looking waiter. The thin-faced man hurriedly stilled his slightly tottering platter of champagne flutes.
“Might you be Mr. Kam Reardon?” the waiter asked when everything came to a rest.
“Yeah,” Kam replied, his gaze skimming the elegantly clad crowd. They stood in the grand foyer of the Civic Opera House, people chatting, tippling champagne and eating hors d’oeuvres and fancy desserts. Lin had told him she’d meet him and Jason Klinf at the opening night party, so he’d reluctantly used his ticket to enter. It was now six forty, and Kam hadn’t glimpsed a hair on Lin’s gorgeous head, no matter how furiously he searched the crowd.
Even though he didn’t particularly feel like talking business with Jason Klinf or attending a crowded opera, he’d been looking forward to seeing Lin again. Instead, he was standing here like a chump in a penguin suit at a stuffy formal event, and Lin was glaringly absent.
“That man over there”—the waiter said, nodding his head in a general direction of the black-and-white, cocktailing mass of partygoers—“requested that I come over and check if you were Reardon.”
Kam’s gaze landed on a tallish, debonair man in his thirties with short brown hair and an expectant expression standing at the edge of the crowd. “Why didn’t he just ask me?” Kam asked bluntly.
The waiter looked offended. “I don’t know,” he said, his sallow cheeks flushing. “His name is Jason Klinf and . . . oh, here he comes.” Kam nabbed a glass of champagne from the waiter before he made his escape, not because he liked champagne, but because he suddenly felt certain that a drink was imperative for survival of this evening.
“Mr. Reardon?” the elegantly dressed man said, approaching him with a smile and hand outstretched. “Jason Klinf. I can’t tell you what a pleasure this is.”
“Thanks,” Kam said, shaking his hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you and your watches from Lin.”
“I understand from Lin that this is your first time to the States. Are you enjoying yourself?”
Something caught Kam’s eye. He stared. “Yeah,” he said distractedly. “Enjoying myself immensely.”
Jason looked politely confused and turned to see where Kam was staring. In a sea of black-and-white tuxes and monochrome dresses, Lin wore red. Jason and he weren’t the only ones in the crowd gawking. The evening gown she wore had a plunging V neckline, leaving a mouthwatering, yet tasteful amount of her creamy, firm breasts exposed. Her hair was unpinned and fell in lush, sexy waves down her back and arms. She glided toward them instead of walked, her round hips moving in a mesmerizing, lust-inspiring sashay.
“Voulez-vous regarder ça!” Kam thought he heard Jason mutter under his breath. Would you look at that! Kam tore his gaze off the vision of Lin approaching long enough to throw the other man a repressive look. Klinf wasn’t doing anything different than Kam and the majority of males in the ballroom were, but he found the other man’s hot, covetous gaze on Lin especially offensive.
“I’m so sorry for keeping you waiting,” Lin said breathlessly, glancing from Kam to Jason. “A good friend of mine is sick and I needed to make sure he’s all right. Hello, Jason,” she said warmly, accepting Jason’s kiss of greeting on her cheek.
“Don’t apologize for a thing,” Jason murmured, not leaning back for a moment. “The result was more than worth the wait. You’re stunning, as usual.”
“Thank you,” she said. Her smile wavered slightly and she hesitated when she transferred her gaze to Kam. With a slight jerk, as if she’d had to jumpstart her actions, she put her hand on Kam’s arm and craned up to replicate the kiss of greeting Jason had given her.
“Kam,” she murmured.
The fabric of the dress was cut out on her shoulders, leaving them bare. He touched her there, feeling exquisitely soft, cool skin. He turned his head, interrupting her intention to kiss his jaw. Her kiss landed on the corner of his lips, his on hers. Using his hold on her, he kept her in place for an additional second, sliding his lips against hers, aligning them. He felt the tiny puff of air that signaled her surprise, and then the slight give in her lips as she ever so briefly molded them against his. That tiny gesture on her part gratified him. It was a fleeting kiss, but it was far from being the typical dry peck of greeting. He was getting a little fed up with all this cloak-and-dagger business when it came to the fact that he and Lin were more than just business associates. As a result, he didn’t regret Jason’s slight scowl when they separated.