Just One Week (13 page)

She was a coward. She might as well admit it. Waiting for him to make the first move. What if she asked him to make this into a real relationship and he refused? After all, she’d made the true sexual advances. She’d insisted kissing and touching were no big deal. She’d lured him into the place that before had held so many bad memories for her so they could make love. For heaven’s sake, she’d seduced him in the bedroom he’d occupied as a boy.

Aside from the first morning when they’d awakened and made love, she’d asked for sex every time, even making sure he returned to the cottage to sleep with her every night. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to reject her and hurt her again the way he had eight years ago. Maybe he was doing it out of lust and yes, caring about her feelings. That might be enough for here, in this cottage, but not after they left.

Damn it, why did she have to be so insecure about men and dating? Any psych student could diagnose it all went back to her father’s rejection. The knowledge didn’t make her any more confident. Every time she pictured telling Alex she wanted to be with him and asking for a future together, a sinking feeling in her stomach told her a rejection would destroy her last shred of self-worth. Stupid to be that way, but this leopardess couldn’t change her spots. No, she couldn’t bring the subject up. She’d have to let him do it.

In the meantime, she’d rock him back on his heels with this outfit, and then, he’d be sure to ask—no, demand—that they set up house in Boston with him commuting to New York for games and practice. Probably a silly fantasy but it was all she had. She’d come this far, succeeded in making him want her. Now she’d take her game to the next level. Yeah, feminine wiles would win the day, and she wouldn’t have to take any risks.

When she had her hair the way she wanted it, she twisted it into a chignon and pinned it to the back of her head. Sophisticated and maybe a little aloof, so she let one curl hang loose to brush her shoulder. Then she reached to the crystal bottle and used the stopper to apply perfume behind her ears and on the insides of her elbows. Just for the hell of it, she added a dab between her breasts. The bodice didn’t dip low enough to shock anyone, but it did hint at cleavage.

She’d never felt like a
femme fatale
before, and she couldn’t quite manage now. She could picture herself as desirable though, ever since she’d witnessed the hunger in Alex’s eyes when he looked at her.

She applied foundation and blush and then a dab of eye shadow. Mascara made her lashes thick and long, and she practiced a smoldering stare. That had her in giggles, though. So not her. But overall, she looked damned good. With the addition of lipstick to make her mouth appear full and appealing, she’d finished her makeup. So she went into the bedroom in search of jewelry and her shoes.

Her glance fell on the lupines, which had faded in the jar. Wildflowers didn’t live long after being cut, but in her mind’s eye, these would always be fresh. The little girl who’d found them and proclaimed her two accomplices her princes had grown up. Princes didn’t really exist, at least not the kind in fairy tales. These days, most princes were ugly or bald or middle-aged and not very nice. They didn’t fight dragons and rescue damsels in distress. Fantasy faded like the lupines when faced with reality.

What had she gotten herself into? Falling in love with her brother’s best friend. Her own closest friend while growing up. All the intertwined relationships. She got all her parental love and pride from Alex’s mother and father. She’d had to live without that for eight years because she’d screwed up with Alex. What if she’d done it again? Monumentally.

She couldn’t let herself worry about that now. She had a party to attend and a man to impress. No matter what else happened, she’d make darned sure Alex never forgot how she looked tonight. She went to the dresser and opened her jewelry box. Nothing showy would do. Given the drama of her dress and shoes, she’d better stick to understated. Simple gold stud earrings and a diamond bracelet would complete her look. She didn’t even wear any rings. Then she got the shoes out of their box, stepped into them, and buckled the straps around her ankles. They made her legs look insanely long, and she smiled. She’d capture the attention of a certain NFL linebacker. The only question was, how long could she hold it?

Chapter Nine

Alex tugged at his collar for probably the fifth time in the last hour. Wearing a suit didn’t normally bother him. Neither did ties. But trying to mingle in a crowd like this one set his nerves on edge. Literati, all of them, in fiction or non-fiction. Either authors or editors or publishers at his father’s company. Even family members and local residents attending were educated and well-read. How long before one or more of them noticed he hadn’t read a book in years? He’d barely managed to keep his dyslexia hidden from Michelle at lunch. This was ten times worse.

He circulated because Mom had asked him to. He dropped in on conversations and dropped out again when the subject turned to books. He liked movies, but he preferred action films to navel-gazing foreign cinema. He liked to eat but had no interest in the latest places that served four raspberries in the center of a huge plate and charged two hundred dollars for a meal. How did he ever get born into this family?

Chase sidled up to him and handed him a glass of beer. “Here you go, big guy.”

Alex drank. “I didn’t know brewskis were allowed at a party like this.”

“Come on, Alex. Everyone here is a regular person.”

“Oh, yeah? How about him?” Alex pointed to a bearded man wearing a beret. He was talking to a small pencil-thin woman in a black dress. When Alex had wandered by their conversation, he’d overheard words like “paradigm” and “post-modern.”

“Alfred’s a poet,” Chase said. “We publish his books.”

“I rest my case.”

“Instead of judging people, why don’t you try talking to someone?” Chase said.

“I’m sure they’d love to hear about tailgating and monster truck rallies.”

Chase looked at him as if he’d never heard anything so dumb. “Do you do those things?”

“No, but they probably think I do.”

“Big brother, you’re totally wrong about them and you.” Chase patted him on the back. “But if you want to wallow, I’ll leave you to it.”

Chase left him, and he started mentally kicking himself. They probably were all perfectly nice individuals. Unfortunately, in groups, they gave Alex the willies. They spoke a language he didn’t understand with an authority that made him felt completely left out. Thank heaven his father had another child to carry on the family business or Stafford Publishing would be in a heap of trouble.

He finished his beer and went to find some way to make himself useful. That would pass the time.

He found Kyle chatting up a pretty blonde…again thin, thin, thin. Why did people think that was attractive? Kyle spotted him and waved him over. “Alex, you should meet Olivia…”

“Upton,” she supplied as she extended her hand. When he shook, she eyed him up and down. Checking out his body. Lots of practice and hours in the weight room gave most players a muscular physique easy to spot. As a linebacker, he was one of the larger positions on the team. Women looked at him a lot and not always for innocent reasons.

“Olivia writes food and travel guides,” Kyle said.

Did she? She might travel, but she clearly didn’t eat much.

“Are you with Stafford Publishing?” she asked.

“Jim’s my dad.”

“Oh, the football player.” She put her fingers over her lips. “I should have known.”

“You’re not required to recognize me.”

“Alex holds the season record for tackles,” Kyle answered. As if that would impress someone like Olivia Upton.

“That’s…wonderful.” She went back to checking him out. Delightful.

“Say, have you seen Michelle around?” he asked Kyle.

“No, and it’s not like her to be late for something,” Kyle said.

“Hm.” He could go looking for her, but she’d sent him away from the cottage and threatened him with an unpleasant death if he came back. Maybe she was mingling elsewhere and he’d find her if he kept moving.

Just then she appeared at the edge of the crowd. With the long days, the sun hadn’t set yet, and the lingering rays caught her dress, making it shimmer in the light. It fit her perfectly, suggesting every curve he’d had the privilege to explore. Her bare arms and long neck made her the most graceful creature he’d ever seen, and the curl hanging to her shoulder accentuated the effect. And her legs.
Oh my God
. To think she’d had them wrapped around him.

His mouth went dry at the sight of her. Another part of his anatomy had a very different reaction. As he made his way toward her, he couldn’t help but notice some of the other men eying her the way Olivia Upton had just done to him. He couldn’t blame them. When you saw feminine perfection like Michelle you couldn’t help it. They wouldn’t get any closer than looking if he could help it. And he certainly could.

He might have nudged a few people aside in his eagerness to get to her, but he finally stopped a few feet away. “You look…unbelievable.”

She gave him a shy smile and held her arms out to her sides. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Like it?”
Oh, baby.
He’d take that dress off her later, and then he’d show her how much he “liked” it.

“It’s a bit much,” she said. “But I thought it’d be okay for a special occasion.”

He closed the distance between them and put his hand at the small of her back. “You’d better stick with me, or you’re likely to get jumped by a bunch of intellectuals.”

“Surely no one who works with your father would try to take advantage of me,” she said.

“Never trust anyone with too much education,” he said. “The high-status nerds are the worst.”

“Are you forgetting I’m a nerd?”

“You’ll forgive me if it slipped my mind for a minute,” he said.

She wrapped her arm around his. “Why don’t you introduce me to a few of them?”

“Sure.” Great, now they could talk to her about paradigms and post-modernism and he could try to look as if he understood. Or cared.

He lucked out with the first person they encountered. Yolanda, his dad’s personal assistant for over twenty years and an all-around good person.

Yolanda extended her arms. “Alex, there you are.”

He bent to give her a hug and the peck on the cheek she always expected. Then she pushed away and studied him with a motherly eye.

“My goodness,” she said. “You got even bigger.”

“Football’ll do that to you,” he said.

“I watch you every chance I get. I make sure my Ed puts your team on, even if the 49ers are playing.”

“Now, don’t make him give up his 49ers,” Alex said. “Michelle, I don’t know if you’ll remember Mrs. Price, Dad’s right hand at the publishing house for many years.”

Yolanda glanced at Michelle, obviously noting her arm through his. “Michelle?”

“Kyle’s sister,” he said. “You’ve met her a few times.”

Yolanda’s eyes got wide, and she covered her mouth with her hands. “Not the one you used to call Mickey.”

“Guilty as charged,” Michelle said.

“Lord have mercy, look at you.” Yolanda put her hands on Michelle’s shoulders and studied her. “You were always pretty, but what a beauty you grew up to be.”

“She is, isn’t she?” Alex put his hand at Michelle’s back again. “And smart, too. She got her doctorate.”

“Biochemistry,” Michelle said.

“You always could pick them, Alex. You could have had any girl, but you went for quality.”

Michelle blushed at that, and he rubbed her back. He would have liked to gather her into his arms, but they were in public, after all.

“So, do you still live around here?” Yolanda asked.

“East Coast. I came back for the party.”

The wheels in Yolanda’s mind turned visibly. She was doing her best to figure out their relationship and how geography was involved.

“Boston,” he said before more questions flew.

“Ah, good,” Yolanda said. “Nice city, Boston. Great lobster.”

“Yolanda,” a man’s voice called. “Over here.”

Yolanda glanced in that direction. “Looks as if Ed found us a seat. He doesn’t much like being surrounded by strangers.”

“I know the feeling,” Alex said.

“We’ll talk again before I go.” Yolanda turned to Michelle. “Nice seeing you again.”

Yolanda wandered off, leaving them alone again. Or as alone as you could be in the middle of a crowd. Honestly, everyone else nearly disappeared because he couldn’t take his eyes off Michelle. What healthy male could?

Right now, she was staring at someone or something across the crowded patio. “Say, is that…”

He followed her gaze and discovered the object of her curiosity. Of course, the famous author of science texts, Sam Tillis. The man had even had a series on public television based on his book,
Culture and Human Consciousness.
Lots of opportunities for intellectual discussion there.

“Sam Tillis,” Alex said. “Would you like to meet him?”

Her whole face lit up. “You bet.”

“Come on.” Tillis noticed them as they approached, and he turned in their direction, more or less ignoring the clutch of people around him. He seemed as eager to make Michelle’s acquaintance as she was to make his, although for different reasons. Tall and lanky, Tillis wasn’t exactly a heartthrob, but women wouldn’t put him out with the trash, either. Alex stood extra close to Michelle, ready to stake out his territory if necessary.

“Michelle, this is Professor Sam Tillis,” he said. “Dr. Michelle Dennis.”

“Sam,” Tillis corrected as he shook Michelle’s hand. “Did he say ‘Doctor’?”

“Biochemistry.”

“Interesting.” Tillis glanced at Alex. “I’m sorry, you’re…”

“Jim’s son, Alex.”

“Of course. How could I forget?” If Tillis watched football, he didn’t let on but gave his full attention to Michelle. “Where do you teach?”

“I don’t,” she answered. “I’m in research.”

“Both are absolutely essential, aren’t they?” Tillis said.

Michelle smiled, and she might have blushed a bit, too. She clearly found the man charming, and he might well be. Naturally his charm didn’t work on Alex. Nor was it supposed to.

“I’ve read several of your books,” she said. “Your biological approach to the understanding of culture is rather unusual, isn’t it?”

Oh, boy. Here they go.
Alex kept his expression neutral while his stomach tensed. This situation was now officially out of his control.

“Culture is a human construct,” Tillis said. “In fact, it’s the ultimate human construct, which renders it invisible. Like the air we breathe, we don’t notice it, but it’s everywhere.”

“I suppose,” she said. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“Culture is coded in our brains,” Tillis went on. “It’s in our DNA.”

“Do you think it’s anatomical or biochemical?” Michelle asked. “What brain structures would be involved?”

“Not limbic system, certainly,” Tillis answered.

That got polite laughter from the people standing around. Alex did his best to chuckle, too.

“Pre-frontal cortex, then,” Michelle said.

Tillis gave her a sugary smile. “I always enjoy Jim’s parties. I meet the most intelligent people.”

“Can I ask a few more questions?” she said.

“Please do.”

Great. More discussion where someone might ask his opinion on something. Giving Michelle a chance to notice how little he understood about the subject of the conversation.

“Would you two excuse me for a minute? I think my dad needs help with something.”

“Of course,” Tillis said.

Michelle gave Alex a quizzical look but didn’t object, so he touched her back one more time before taking off across the patio. Then he climbed the deck and went into the kitchen. The caterers had the place humming with people at the stove and at the table, which was covered with silver trays of food. Servers dressed in black came and went, but Alex was finally able to get to the fridge. He opened it in search of beer and found plenty. But drinking wasn’t the solution to getting through this evening, so he closed the door and leaned against it for a moment.

He shouldn’t have bailed back there. Not that he had to worry about Tillis scoring with Michelle. She wasn’t shallow. But after all his years on earth, he might have developed some confidence in himself. He had a learning disability. As his family constantly pointed out, he wasn’t stupid. But Alex had spent his entire life covering up the secret because some people did treat him as if he were dumb, and it hurt. He so didn’t need to have someone make him look ignorant in front of Michelle.

Damn it all, he could use a tackling dummy right about now. Smashing something would feel so damned good. The physical he understood. The intellectual could tie him into knots. Right now, Michelle was talking to the uber-intellectual. The thinking person’s thinker. And she was loving it. Alex couldn’t give her that.

He went to the window that overlooked the party. His eyes immediately found Michelle. She was talking to the poet now, her face alive with excitement. The man must have said something witty, because she tossed back her head and laughed. A clutch of other publishing folks stood around, obviously enjoying an animated conversation. She shone in those surroundings. Her very own paradigm of human constructs, whatever the hell they were.

“Son?”

Alex glanced over to discover his father had entered the room and closed the door behind him. “Great party, Dad.”

“One you felt you had to escape,” his father said.

Alex stuffed his fists into his pockets and went back to staring out the window. He felt more than heard his father walk up to stand beside him.

“Sorry you had to be exposed to all that hot air,” his father said.

“The best and the brightest. Isn’t that who you always said you publish?”

“I guess I did.” Dad ran his hand over the back of his neck.

“It doesn’t matter that I don’t fit in with them. I have my own accomplishments.” Major lie there. It did matter.

“I wish you’d see things that way for real.”

“Thanks, Dad. I’ll try.”

“What are you going to do about Mickey?” his father said.

Alex couldn’t quite stare down his father the way he did his brother. Or tried to stare down his brother. It didn’t usually work very well. He could do his best to avoid the question, though, because frankly, he didn’t have any answers.

“Your mother has high hopes,” his father said.