“So . . . you’re wearing that for an evening with the prince of smooth and the big bad wolf,” he said, glancing significantly at the dramatic red, floor-length gown. “Better watch yourself, Red. Sounds like there might be some fireworks tonight at the Civic.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she scoffed, although privately she was thinking that Richard’s description of Jason and Kam was pretty dead-on.

“Did Reardon find you last night? At your dance lesson?” Richard asked, opening one of the boxes of tissues.

“Yes, he—Wait, did you tell Kam where I was?” Lin interrupted herself.

Richard gave her a bland glance as he wiped his nose. “Of course. He’s a hell of a gorgeous man. Can you blame me for wanting to live out a little fantasy through you?”

Lin rolled her eyes. “I’m sure Emile would appreciate that,” she said drolly.

“He did appreciate it when I told him last night,” Richard said with a shrug. “I’m just looking, that’s no crime. So? Are you cursing me or thanking me for pointing Kam in your direction last night?”

“Maybe both,” she mumbled.

Richard leaned forward with interest. “Why are you thanking me? Does it have anything to do with phenomenal sex?” She gave him an exasperated glance, feeling vulnerable. “It does!” Richard exclaimed, dark eyes sparking.

“Maybe it does,” Lin admitted after a moment. It felt good to admit the truth to someone. Carrying around the secret of her smoking-hot sexual escapades with her boss’s brother suddenly felt like too big of a burden to carry alone. “But amazing sex aside, part of me is still cursing you for directing Kam Reardon my way.”

“So the sex is amazing?” Richard asked, latching on to that portion of her admission and refusing to let go. “I knew it would be. He’s got that primal, raw, ‘I’m gonna give it to you and you’re gonna love every second and inch of it, baby’ way about him, doesn’t he?”

Lin rolled her eyes at the comical description uttered in Richard’s French-accented voice.

“Amazing sex or not, it’s wrong. I shouldn’t be doing this,” she said.

“Why not?” Richard demanded, looking scandalized. “You never indulge. A beautiful, smart, wealthy woman like you should have a different stud in your bed every night. But instead, you’re always saving yourself for . . . Oh.”

“What?” Lin asked, alarmed when Richard suddenly faded off and his expression fell.

“That’s it. You think you shouldn’t be fooling around with Kam because of his brother.”

“Ian is my boss, Richard. You know it’s not right to mix business and pleasure, and whether I like it or not, Kam was definitely a work assignment.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Richard said significantly.

She checked her watch. “I really should get ready.”

“Don’t Lin. Don’t put me off again,” Richard said so gently that she glanced into his face, surprised. “I know you fancy yourself in love with Ian Noble.”

For a second, she just stared. “What? What makes you think—”

“I’ve thought it for a while. So has Emile. There’s no reason to deny it, sweetie. It’s just me, your old friend. Don’t cut yourself off. Sometimes it hurts to talk about this stuff, but it’s better than keeping it all locked inside. That hurts even more in the end. Not to mention, it will make you lonelier. Emile and I have always said you’re one of the loneliest women we know.”

Tears burned her eyes for the next several seconds as she stared at her friend, aghast, emotion swelling in her throat. She didn’t know what to say. She felt cornered. Miserable. Why did it feel like her world was crashing down around her? Ian was thinking about moving Noble Enterprises to London. She was confused about her job. She was perplexed by her life. And all she could think about was Kam—

“It’s not like it matters” tore out of her throat harshly. “Nothing will ever come of it. It’s just a stupid, hopeless infatuation.”

“It’s not stupid,” Richard soothed, compassion filling his face. “And of course it matters. It’s your feelings. There’s little else more important.” He paused, looking worried.

“What?” Lin whispered, noticing his sudden hesitance.

“It’s just . . . has it ever occurred to you that the hopelessness of your feelings for Ian might have been one of the reasons you held on to the infatuation for so long?”

“What do you mean?”

Richard shrugged and gave her an apologetic glance. “An unrequited love sucks, but it certainly assures safety. I know how cautious you are in relationships. I know that it hurt you more than you ever let on when your parents left you here in the States and moved to Taiwan—”

“Oh, give me a break” burst out of her throat. “That was ages ago. Don’t play psychoanalyst with me, Richard.”

“And then your grandmother passed, and I know she was everything to you. I’m just saying that your fear of being abandoned by people you care about could make an impossible love pretty damn appealing. Face it. None of the men you ever date are going to match up. Take Jason Klinf, for instance, since we’re on the topic and you went out with him a few times—”

“Jason is an inveterate womanizer, you know that. I’d just be another notch on his bedpost,” Lin interrupted impatiently.

“So? He’d be another notch on yours, too. It goes both ways. My point is,” Richard persisted when she gave a little disgusted groan, “his lechery for you aside, Jason also wanted you to work for him. He offered you a king’s ransom to do it. But you wouldn’t even consider the idea, not even for a second. No, you never wavered in your loyalty to Ian. Ian gets to exist on some kind of insurmountable pedestal, and you never have to worry about his rejecting you because he never knows how you feel.”

“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.