Donovans 02 - Jade Island

between the valet parking and the south door of the hotel.
    “Let’s go in this way,” Kyle said, guiding her past the main entrance.
    “Any particular reason?”
    “Because I can.”
    She blinked, looked at him, and smiled suddenly. “That answer would cover a lot of questions.”
    “That’s why I like it.”
    Casually Kyle glanced over his shoulder. No one had pulled into valet parking behind them. He opened the hotel door for Lianne, walked in after her, and quickly scanned the collection of luxury shops. All closed. All empty. Several people were smoking outside the main entrance of the hotel, but no one was conveniently puffing near the south door.
    Inside or outside the hotel, Kyle didn’t see Archer, but he didn’t doubt that his brother somehow was in a positionto see him. When Archer said he would do something, it got done. The only other person Kyle had met with Archer’s combination of brains, integrity, and lethal training was his sister Honor’s husband, Jake Mallory.
    “The penthouse elevator is this way, just around the corner,” Lianne said.
    As they rounded the corner, a dark, slender, very handsome Asian man standing near the penthouse elevator burst into a cascade of enthusiastic Chinese. He took one of Lianne’s hands and stroked it repeatedly. For a Chinese male, it was an unusual display of public affection, unless he had been raised among a very wealthy, fairly Westernized overseas Chinese family.
    Lianne answered the familiar greeting with a professional smile that made Kyle appreciate just how much warmth was in the smiles she had been giving to him.
    Maybe he wouldn’t be sleeping single after all.
    But first he would have to detach the incredibly good-looking leech from Lianne’s hand. No matter the man’s feline, almost feminine beauty, the signals he was sending out were heterosexual and as blunt as a hard-on.
    “Kyle,” Lianne said smoothly, “this is Lee Chin Tang. Mr. Tang is an executive with the Tang Consortium. He doesn’t speak English.”
    “Am I pleased to meet him,” Kyle said without inflection.
    “Moderately, but not excessively. He’s acting as official greeter for the party.”
    As Lianne looked at Lee’s dark, liquid eyes and raven hair, she waited for the slash of regret or anger she always felt when she saw him. Nothing came but a bittersweet acceptance that whatever love she had once felt for him no longer existed. With another polite smile, she removed her fingers from his grasp.
    “Yes, the man with me is Kyle Donovan,” Lianne said in clipped Cantonese. “Please take us up to the suite. Uncle Wen,” she added, using the common Chinese honorific uncle as she would use mister or sir in English, “will be eager to hear about the results of the auction.”
    “You left early,” Lee said. “Is it true the Jade Emperor’s Tomb has been found and sold to a foreign devil?”
    “Ask Wen Zhi Tang,” Lianne retorted before she could think better of it. “He knows more about jade than I do.”
    “Why did you leave the auction early? Where did you go? Was this man with you?”
    “There was no need to stay at the auction,” Lianne said, answering the only question she would. “Like me, Uncle Wen is not interested in Pacific Rim gems.”
    Strong, narrow fingers caressed her hand, her wrist, the soft skin beneath. “I have missed you.”
    “How kind of you to say so.”
    Beneath the polite answer, old anger flared for an instant in Lianne. Even six months ago, she would have given the earth to hear those words from Lee’s full lips. Now it was all she could do to act professional.
    Well, not entirely professional. There was a very personal, very female part of her that was delighted to encounter Lee while she was on the arm of Kyle Donovan, a man who drew a woman’s eye whether the woman was Chinese or Caucasian. Glancing up at Kyle through her eyelashes, she smiled with frank, female approval.
    Both men registered the difference in her smile. Suddenly expressionless, Lee let go of Lianne, stuck a key in the elevator, and motioned them inside.
    “Good thing I don’t wear glasses,” Kyle said softly as the doors swished shut. “That smile you just gave me would have fogged them up inside and out.”
    Lianne’s smile widened into laughter. She felt years younger, almost giddy. It was a great relief to file Lee Chin Tang under “Old Business,” shut the mental drawer, and be fairly certain that she wouldn’t open it again in the