The Affair: Week 5 by Beth Kery Page A

watching her as he also placed his elbows on the bar and leaned forward, matching her pose.
    “Yes. I think we’ve established that,” she murmured humorously, studying him with her chin brushing her shoulder. They sat close. Much closer than they would have if they’d been seated at a table. Their elbows touched lightly; their poses were intimate. Too much
so for having just met. She instinctively glanced downward, taking in his crotch and strong, jean-covered thighs.
    Heat flooded her cheeks. She fixed her gaze blindly on the glassware hanging behind the bar.
    She silenced the voice in her head telling her to lean back and gain perspective. Lin Soong didn’t hunch down over bars flirting with rugged, sexy men. His face fascinated her, though. She wanted to turn again and study it, the desire an almost magnetic pull on her attention. And . . . she could smell him. His scent was simple: soap and freshly showered male skin. No, it
should
have been simple, but was somehow light-headedly complex. Delicious.
    “I wasn’t trying to insult you by saying I’d rather eat at the bar,” he said, referring to her earlier, subtle gibe that he’d intended to insult her. “I’m more comfortable here. I’m out of practice. I’m not used to places like this,” he said, glancing around without moving his head.
    “I’m sorry,” she said, meaning it. With a sinking feeling, she thought of the schedule she had planned for him in the next few weeks. Ian had approved of it, but clearly Kam wouldn’t. Perhaps it’d be best to ease him into things, maybe just tell him about each appointment a day or two in advance so that he didn’t have time to dread them too much? “I wasn’t trying to be pretentious by asking you to meet here. Even though Savaur might seem upscale, I consider it the opposite. It’s almost like a second home for me. I’m good friends with the owners—they’re neighbors of mine, in fact.”
    “Was that one of them who you were laughing with—presumably about me—when you walked in?”
    Guilt swept through her. “We weren’t
laughing
at you.”
    He arched his brows and gave her a bland look, as if to say it was all the same to him whether they were or they weren’t. Lin had the distinct impression his impervious manner wasn’t for show. He really must have built up a thick skin living like an outcast for all those years. She couldn’t help but admire his nonchalance about what other people thought of him. It wasn’t a thing she encountered much in this day and age. His concise observance mixed with his cool indifference and jaw-dropping good looks left her unsure of what to say.
    “I’m sorry if I gave the impression I was laughing. I was—
am
, I mean—very eager to meet you.” She cleared her throat. It suddenly struck her that they were speaking in hushed, intimate tones. She was relieved to see Victor appear with the menus. “May I order for you?” she asked Kam politely. She saw his flashing glance and knew she’d made another misstep.
    “Which do you think? That I don’t know how to place an order myself, or that I can’t read?”
    “Neither, of course. I was thinking of what you insinuated earlier about tiny servings. I promise you, I won’t order two bites and a sprinkle on a plate. Emile Savaur knows how to feed a hungry Frenchman. He and Richard are Frenchmen as well, and more often than not, hungry ones.”
    She took his silence and slight shrug as agreement and ordered them both the steak au poivre.
    “So Ian sent you to make me feel more comfortable for this experiment of his,” Kam asked once Victor had walked away, his low, resonant voice amplifying the tickling sensation on her bare neck. Again, she experienced that heavy feeling in her lower belly and sex.
    She blinked. What was wrong with her? This whole experience was bizarre. It was his similarity to Ian that was setting her off balance. She’d trained herself long ago to remain cool and professional with Ian