“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.

“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.

He was slightly taller than Ian, Lin realized dazedly. Ian had been to her place several times over the years in order to drop something off or for a working dinner, both when the condo had still belonged to her grandmother and after she had died. She knew precisely where her boss’s dark head hit the doorframe, and she thought Kam surpassed that imaginary measuring mark by a fraction of an inch.

He met her stare as he crossed the threshold. Her consciousness felt fogged by a glass and a half of wine and a rush of unexpected, potent lust.

She couldn’t believe she was doing this.

She saw his nostrils flare slightly as he approached—a predator’s stalk. A thrill of excitement went through her as she guessed what he was about to do. He swept down and captured her mouth with his. Firm, warm lips moved over hers, not forcefully, necessarily, but with unapologetic hunger, shaping her flesh to his own, learning it, owning it. He placed one hand on her jaw and penetrated her lips. She gasped at the impact of his taste and heat.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since I first laid eyes on you,” he said roughly next to her lips a moment later. “Your mouth is downright indecent.” He pulled her closer to him so that he could close the door. He shut and locked it, his piercing stare never leaving her face. Her sex clenched tight at the sensation of his large, lean, solid body pressed against her own.

“Use that mouth right now,” he demanded hoarsely. “Use it to tell me you want me.”

“You really need me to tell you that?” she asked, touching his face experimentally. She liked the sensation of his whiskers abrading her fingertips so well, she opened her other hand along his jaw.

“I think it’d help to make this whole night seem a little more believable,” he muttered, leaning down and nipping at her lips with his. She joined him in a barely restrained, blistering kiss.

“Go on,” he said in a gravelly voice after a mind-hazing moment.

“I want you. I must, to be doing something so crazy,” she whispered, meeting his stare and arching her back, rubbing her breasts against his ribs. He growled appreciatively and ducked his head, greedily taking her lower lip between his scraping teeth. A hand came up and cupped her left breast, squeezing it firmly, molding her flesh to his, testing her texture. She moaned as liquid heat rushed through her, the sharpness of her arousal a fresh cause for amazement. His groan sounded every bit as appreciative.

She’d never had a man sweep her into his arms before. Somehow, it didn’t surprise her in the least that Kam did it without blinking an eye.

He was unknowingly stroking a narrow, sweet spot in her being without even trying. She wanted him just a little less than her next breath. She craved him just enough to relinquish her typical rigid control. That kind of desire left room for little else, let alone rational thought.

He held her stare as he carried her down the dim hallway.

“There,” she said breathlessly, waving at the master bedroom suite.

He kicked lightly at the partially open door to widen it. She looked up at him as he set her at the foot of the bed, a thrilling combination of lust, wariness, anxiety, and electrical excitement beginning to simmer in her blood.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her face. Later, he’d realize that if asked what her condominium looked like an hour after being there, he wouldn’t be able to supply even a sketchy description. That’s how rapt he was with Lin Soong. That lush, rosebud mouth was his to touch, lick . . . ravage, the smooth skin his to caress and kiss, the sweet, thrusting breasts his to drown in, to coax to a full response with his mouth, lips, and tongue . . .

. . . for a little while, anyway.

Without a word, he began to undress her, sweeping her coat off and tossing it carelessly on a chair, raising the thin sweater over her shoulders and head and discarding it on the mattress. His actions mussed her hair even further. He delved his fingers into the gathered mass at the back of her head, finding three long, smooth wooden hair sticks and removing them. He tossed them. The pins flew several feet where they landed with clicks on a bedside table, rolled and came to a rest. He never took his eyes off her. A midnight mass of hair whispered around her white shoulders. He clutched at it with both hands, burying his fingers in the curls. Gently, he arranged it around her back and upper arms.

“I’ve never seen an Asian woman with curly hair. It’s beautiful,” he muttered, distracted by the sensation of it coiling around his fingers. Her hair was a lighter weight than he would have thought considering the mass at the back of her head, but there was tons of it. The fragrance of the liberated tendrils reached his nose—fruit and flowers, musky and sensual. It whisked next to his calloused fingers, feeling like silk and air combined.

“It’s not that common. The humidity makes it worse,” she said huskily, staring up at him with a solemn, dark-eyed gaze.