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.
“I’m surprised you haven’t told me exactly what they like in bed,” he added, goading her a little.
Her dark eyebrows rose in amusement. Her expression was typically controlled, but her large eyes were compellingly expressive.
“That’s something I wouldn’t know,” she replied evenly.
“What about Ian’s preferences in that arena?” he prodded. “Are you familiar with those?”
Her gaze flashed to his at his impertinence, the whites of her eyes a striking contrast to the dark brown irises. “Absolutely not.”
“Good,” he said, unable to prevent a knowing, satisfied smile. She shook her head. She looked incredulous at his audacity . . . and slightly dazed.
“Presumptuous,” she said in a hushed tone.
He wrapped her wrist with his hand, slipping his thumb beneath a ruffle onto her warm skin. If he knew anything, he knew how to read a woman’s body. His own heartbeat escalated when he felt the rapid, strong throb of her pulse. He knew logically what it meant, but still his brain doubted.
“Realistic. Why deny it?” he said with much more confidence than he felt.
He was filled with an irrational urge to set Lin Soong off balance, to melt her cool exterior, to prove that beneath that crisp, efficient manner, she’d prove warm and supple beneath his touch.
He saw the column of her throat convulse as she swallowed. She twisted her wrist and slid her hand through his loose hold, her fingertips brushing against his palm.
“Why indeed?” she said so softly that he wondered for a second if he’d heard her correctly. Those two words and that whispering caress against calloused skin made the hair on his forearms stand on end. Part of him still doubted what was happening—not really believing a woman like Lin would ever want him—until she encircled his thick thumb with her elegant fingers and squeezed.
For some damn reason, it was the most erotic caress he’d ever experienced. His cock swelled painfully.
She glanced at his half-full glass. “We could stay here and finish our drinks,” she said, her lustrous eyes bewitching him. “Or we could go to my place.”
His eyebrows went up in wry disbelief. “It’s a good beer, but really? Compared to option number two?”
She laughed softly. “I’m glad we’re in agreement on at least one thing,” she murmured. She met his gaze frankly. “This is probably not a very good idea,” she said in a hushed tone, and he sensed her anxiety twining with lust.
He studied the sublime line of her jaw and the curve of her mouth.
“Maybe. But it’s the only idea in my head at the moment,” he admitted gruffly. For a moment, she just stared. Then she nodded once—done—reminding him of a woman who had just made a business decision and wouldn’t back down now. The spike of irritation he experienced wasn’t enough to lessen his intense interest, let alone cause even a flicker in his arousal. In the periphery of his awareness, he saw Victor set the check on the bar. His hand slid out and grabbed the leather portfolio, beating Lin by a hairsbreadth.
“Let me. Ian would insist,” she said anxiously as he pulled the folder out of her reach.
“Ian isn’t here. I am.”
When she didn’t reply, he reached for his wallet with a sense of grim satisfaction. Her submission in this wasn’t much.
But it was something.
• • •
She unlocked the front door and held it open for him to enter. He hadn’t tried to touch her during the foggy cab ride through the city. They hadn’t spoken, just sat in silence as the tension and anticipation mounted until it almost felt unbearable to her.