“You sound like you’re about to get laryngitis, too,” she said, alarmed. “Have you been to the doctor?”
He shook his head. “I don’t have a fever. I just need some rest.”
“Follow me,” she said, bustling back to her bedroom. She tossed the two dresses on the foot of the bed and entered her bathroom. When she came out a moment later carrying her humidifier, Richard was looking at the dresses. “Going out tonight?” he asked.
“Yes. To Frais,” Lin said, handing him the humidifier.
“Traitor.”
“Elise and Lucien are practically family, just like you and Emile are,” she chastised him fondly. “Besides, Otto Gersbach is a health nut. Doesn’t touch alcohol, and just between you and me, would prefer to dine at restaurants that don’t serve it when his daughter is with him.
“Ah,” Richard said, nodding in understanding. He knew that Elise’s restaurant catered to individuals with a history of substance abuse and their friends and family, taking away the element of alcohol, yet still providing everything else an epicure might desire in a luxury dining experience. “The things you learn about Noble’s business associates would stun the man on the street, Lin. Speaking of which, how did things go on Monday night?” Richard asked. He gave her a give-me-a-break glance when she feigned confusion. “With the sexy Brazilian street fighter?”
She picked up the dresses. “Very well, I think. It was just work, you know . . . Ian’s brother,” she reminded him when she noticed his amused expression. “I have a business dinner again tonight with him, in fact.”
“Uh-huh,” Richard murmured doubtfully.
She shot him a cool glance. On the inside, however, her heart began to throb in her chest. She had tried not to be conspicuous in leaving Savaur the other night with Kam, but Richard didn’t miss much. He might have noticed they got in a cab together. Still, that didn’t mean anything necessarily. They might have been sharing a cab.
“He really does look an awful lot like Ian,” Richard said too casually.
“Yes, he does,” she admitted, going to a mirror over her dresser and holding up one dress and then the other. “Although he couldn’t be more different.”
“So being around him isn’t . . . difficult for you?”
She knew what Richard was hinting at, but she didn’t want to discuss it. Richard and Emile were both smart, observant men. She’d never admitted point-blank to either one of them that she had a “thing” for her boss, but they suspected. She ritualistically refused to talk about it with either of them, so why would things be different tonight?
“No,” she replied. “Kam is a unique, shall we say challenging personality, but nothing I can’t handle.”
“You’re certain?”
“Absolutely,” she replied, meeting his eyes calmly in the mirror.
Richard studied her face soberly for a second before he shrugged. “You’re a locked chamber when it comes to some things, Lin.”
“I have no reason to lock anything away. Not on this topic,” she lied.
“So socializing with a man who looks so much like Ian Noble is a simple, easy thing for you, eh?”
As easy as sin.
She suppressed the automatic thought and held up the two dresses. “Which one?” she asked.
“Is this some kind of riddle for me to answer my own question?”
She gave him an exasperated glance, and he laughed. Richard considered the two dresses with the air of an expert. He said the name of the designer of the black-and-white dress, as if the choice was obvious. It was a tuxedolike halter cocktail dress with a high neck that left her arms, upper back and shoulders bare. A curved cutout in the front also left a good portion of her legs exposed. It was a structured, geometric design, but the dress was also fiercely sexy.
“Don’t you think it’s too . . . much?” she asked doubtfully, examining the dress critically.
“You tell me which one,” was Richard’s arch reply.
She held up the decidedly more demure dress with frothy skirt and a high waist and collar.
“Interesting,” Richard mused as he started to leave, carrying the humidifier.
“Be sure to drink lots of liquids. I’ll check in on you later. And the dress is not interesting,” she couldn’t stop herself from calling after him. “It’s a perfectly uninteresting dress.”
“That was what was interesting about you picking it,” he said before he walked out the door.
• • •
Francesca immediately greeted her when she walked into the small ballroom. Lucien’s staff had converted it into a studio to display her artwork.
“Hi! You’re one of the first to get here. Or maybe you’re one of the only to come,” Francesca added worriedly under her breath, before she gave Lin a hug and a kiss on the cheek and Lin reciprocated.
“Don’t be silly. Loads of people will come. You got that wonderful mention in the Chicago Tribune last Sunday in the arts section. I just came early to be sure I was here before everyone else. You look beautiful,” Lin said. The vibrant green color did wonderful things for Ian’s wife’s rose-gold hair and dark eyes. The cut of the dress subtly emphasized Francesca’s pregnant state rather than disguising it. Francesca was in the fifth month of her pregnancy, and she looked radiant. Strangely enough, considering Lin’s secret feelings for Ian, she’d never been painfully jealous of Francesca. Perhaps that was simply because the vibrant, fresh, and singularly talented young woman was difficult not to like. Lin’s feelings toward Francesca Noble had deepened from cautious amiability to respect and caring. She understood why Ian was so captivated by his wife. Besides, how could she profess to genuine feelings for Ian and not be glad for his obvious peace and happiness?