Sex Drive (25 page)

The erotic touch, the sexy suggestion, got me so hot and bothered I almost missed it when he said, “Maybe you could join me for the last part of the tour.”

“Wow, I…Let me think. I have grad students to supervise. But I could do that by e-mail and an occasional phone call.”

“I’ll give you my schedule. We’ll talk about it. My admin assistant Bobby could make the arrangements.” He winked. “Might be able to find a beach or two along the route.”

The memory of moonlit Waikiki Beach made me squirm. Mindful of the stranger behind me, I said, “Let’s get to work on that book proposal.”

I was about to reach down for the bag containing my computer when Damien thrust his beer at me and folded his tray table. “Hold this while I get my computer out of the overhead.”

When he’d set up and opened a blank document, he turned to me. “Need to think about a title. It’s got to be catchy. Let’s brainstorm about what we want to say.”

For a few minutes, we bounced ideas around, then I said, “How about something around apologies? Perhaps
When Apologies Aren’t Enough?
”

“Hey, I like that.” He typed it, then mused. “Or maybe
When Sorry Doesn’t Cut It
.”

“That’s good, too.”

He typed it as well, fingers as deft on the keyboard as they were on my body. “We’ll give Alex half a dozen suggestions and she’ll probably have some ideas, too.”

After we’d come up with a few more, he said, “Now, what do we say about the book?”

My fingers itched for the keyboard. “I’m used to working alone,” I confessed.

“Me, too.”

“And I’m a bit of a control freak.”

His mouth twitched. “Oh, really? Well, I’m an easygoing bastard. So, Prof, you hinting you want to type?”

“Maybe we could pass the computer back and forth?”

“Here ya go.” He shuffled it over to my tray table, taking care not to knock my glass.

I typed for a few minutes, then, feeling self-conscious, showed him the screen.

He read, nodded, frowned, reached for the computer, then revised what I’d written and added a couple of sentences before and after.

When he’d finished, I leaned closer, reading. He’d taken my passive tense, made it active, punchier. Replaced some of the jargon with layperson’s wording. I realized I’d been writing as if this were a grant application.

I pointed to the screen and made a couple of suggestions, which we discussed. Then he said, “You want to draft the part about the advisory board? And we’ll need a bio for you.”

I took the computer back and worked for awhile. Then we discussed, revised, kept adding and honing. And it was stimulating, fun, just as Damien had said it would be. The fact of arms and thighs brushing, the occasional quick kiss, was a bonus. Maybe I didn’t do so well with teamwork, but partnership with Damien was working out just fine. I was relieved, almost giddy with pleasure by the time we’d arrived at a draft we felt happy about.

When he’d put his computer away and folded up his tray table, he reached over to hook his arm around my shoulders and pull me against him. I wrapped an arm around his waist, feeling his rangy strength, the heat of his skin beneath the white T-shirt. My lover. My coauthor.

We’d just spent the last hour on the coauthor part and it would have been nice if we could now concentrate on being lovers. I pressed a kiss against his neck, noticing he was getting a five o’clock shadow.

“Not much privacy on this flight,” he murmured.

“That’s for sure.” When I glanced up, I saw the young mother across the aisle watching us, an expression of envy on her face and a baby on her lap. A boy of perhaps six occupied the seat between her and her husband.

The sight reminded me I had a wedding to plan. Reluctantly I eased from Damien’s embrace. “I want to have a comprehensive wedding checklist by the time I get home.”

“And I’ve been neglecting those galleys.”

My eyes were tired from lack of sleep, so I pulled out my reading glasses and got to work. For the next couple of hours we worked peacefully, arms brushing often. Looking up to buy chicken wraps, drink water, share the remaining Ghirardelli chocolate bar. Exchanging an occasional comment, a caress, a kiss, but mostly concentrating on our tasks. I did my very best to try not to mumble out loud—less because of Damien than out of courtesy for the man on my other side.

Every time I glanced his way, he was deep in his book. In fact, when the male flight attendant came by to ask if he’d like a cup of coffee, he didn’t hear. I nudged him. “Sir? The flight attendant wants to know if you’d like coffee.”

“Oh, sorry.” He turned toward the other man. “Yes, please and thanks. Cream and sugar.”

When the coffee was on his tray table, he turned to me. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Good book?”

“Yeah, it’s a page-turner.” He held it up so I could see the cover, which had a “dark and stormy night” image of a man running.

“You like suspense?”

“Suspense and thrillers, the occasional mystery.”

I extracted my purse from under the seat in front and found one of Damien’s bookmarks. “Here’s an author you might enjoy. The books are set in Australia and it’s a series with a cop protagonist. There’s a touch of the supernatural as well.”

He glanced at both sides of the bookmark, then nodded. “Thanks for the tip. I’ll look these up.” Then he stuck the bookmark into his book and carried on reading.

When I turned away from him, Damien was watching me, a grin on his face. “Good work. Thanks.” He stretched, caressed my arm lightly. “How’s the wedding coming?”

“It’s intimidating and overwhelming, I don’t know how we’ll ever pull it off. But my plan is almost done. I’ll sit down with Merilee and get her input.”

We both turned back to our tasks. I’d almost finished skimming through the wedding bible and making notes. Even though there were a million things to do, I was comfortable with the process of project planning. It suited me to think ahead and try to anticipate every eventuality. I wasn’t a spontaneous person.

And yet, here I was with Damien. It didn’t make sense.

Being with Jeffrey had made sense, at least at the time, given what I thought I’d known about him. We were in the same field, both academics; we were a logical match. Damien and I, though…In some ways we were similar, in others we were opposites. It made things exciting.

I thought about my parents. They definitely had things in common, like their strong drive to help people and their desire that their children be happy, healthy, and successful. Yet Dad was most comfortable in a research lab and Mom loved being out in the world, meeting people face-to-face and working to solve their legal problems. Maybe it was partly their differences—the old “opposites attract” thing—that had kept their marriage strong for so many years.

They’d made it clear they wanted happy relationships for their daughters, but so far the oldest three of us had let them down. What was I going to tell them about Damien?

Or was I, yet?

D
amien finished another chapter of proofreading and stretched, rotating his head. Theresa was staring at him, those professorial reading glasses shoved up on top of her head, messing up her hair. “Hey, Prof, how ya going?”

“Where are you staying in Vancouver?”

Not exactly a response to his question, but he answered her anyhow. “Think it’s called the Rosedale. It’s close to the radio station where I’ll be taping a morning interview, and to the main branch of the library, where I’m scheduled to chat with a buyer later in the morning. And only a few blocks from the store where I’ll be signing.”

“Hmm. That
is
convenient.” Her furrowed brow sent a different message than her words.

“Not a good hotel?”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s great. I was just thinking…” She trailed off and didn’t finish.

He waited. Then prompted, “You were thinking?”

“D’you want to stay at my place?” The words came out in a quick stream, so fast he barely made sense of them. Then she added, “I mean, my parents’ house?”

He’d figured the “meet the parents” thing would happen, and was a bit wary. What would a geneticist and a top-flight lawyer think of their brilliant daughter hooking up with a novelist, albeit a semisuccessful one?

“It’s all right if you don’t,” Theresa said quickly, expression shuttered. “I mean, the hotel would be far more convenient, and I know you have a busy schedule, and—”

“Whoa.” He grabbed her hand. “It’s just, I’ve never done this before.”

“Done what?”

“Met the parents.”

“Oh, come on. With all the women you’ve dated?”

“Sure, I’ve occasionally met someone’s parents, but never when,” he shrugged, “you know, never when it mattered.”

“Mattered?”

“Crap, I’m gonna really suck at writing this emotional stuff when I can’t even put it in words to you. This is new territory for me. Feeling, you know, like the two of us really have something. Something, uh…”

A spark of humor lit her eyes. “Nice to meet a man who can be clear about his intentions.”

He gave her a rueful grin. “Something special. Right?”

“Right.”

“So of course I’ll come meet your parents, Tezzie.”

“Thank you.” She leaned toward him for a kiss.

It was driving him crazy, being in a full economy class. He wanted to make out with his girl, damn it. But he behaved himself, keeping the kiss soft and chaste. It was no less meaningful for that. A kiss full of promise.

A kiss full of promise
. The writer in him recognized it as a damned good line. Maybe Kalti and his new partner could have one of those kisses.

When he and Theresa broke apart, he asked, “What do you think your parents will say?”

She nibbled her bottom lip, which wasn’t exactly reassuring. Nor were her words. “They were kind of hard on Jeffrey.”

“They didn’t approve of a uni prof?”

“They were right, weren’t they?”

He held her gaze. “I’m not him.”

“No. But they’ve seen me hurt. And they’re protective of all of us girls.”

“Course they are. So, any advice?”

That lip got another chew. “Be yourself. You’re smart, articulate, successful, and have an interesting career.” But she sounded doubtful.

“Thanks for that vote of confidence.”

Her face softened. “You’ve even been known to be charming, and you’re not half bad on the eyes. Besides, in the end, it’s only my opinion that counts.”

True. But if her parents disapproved, it would add tension to his relationship with Theresa. Getting off on the right foot would be important, so he said, “I’d like to stay at your place, but I don’t want to inconvenience anyone. Tomorrow I have to be up early and off to the TV station. I can call a cab, right?”

“Maybe I could borrow a car and drive you. Though everyone may be asleep when we get in…”

He gazed into her anxious face, guessing what was darting through her perfectionist brain. Late arrival, would anyone be waiting up, where would he sleep, when would they leave in the morning, whose car, when would they get back? And of course, her being in charge and all, she wanted it to go brilliantly.

“You know what?” He felt a combination of relief—hell, he could defer being impressive until tomorrow—and regret, because he didn’t want to be apart from her, not with so few hours before he left Vancouver. “I don’t think tonight’s going to work.”

Her nod came quickly. “I agree. But tomorrow, call me when you’re finished in town, and I’ll either pick you up or you can get a cab. You can hang out at the house, do some work or have a nap, we’ll have an early barbecue for dinner, then I’ll come to the signing with you and you can come back to the house after.”

He chuckled. Trust the prof to come up with an efficient plan on the spur of the moment. “Sounds good. Minimum disruption for you and your family.”

“Maybe some of them will come to the store, too.”

“Great, then I’d have at least two or three in the audience,” he said wryly.

She grinned. “I’ll explain that signings are a hit-or-miss proposition, and that you’re just starting to get exposure for your books here.”

Amazing, how well they’d come to know each other in such a short time. He reached out to pull her into a hug. “I’ve converted you from a nasty critic to my number-one supporter.”

“Great sex will do that,” she whispered, breath tickling his ear.

Her words and her soft warm breath made him start to harden.

“You’re so shallow,” he teased back, voice low. “Give you a couple of orgasms and you lose all your principles.”

“More than a couple. And they have to be fabulous ones.”

She snuggled against him and he wondered how many people had ever seen this cuddly, teasing, soft side of Professor Fallon. Oh yeah, he was one hell of a lucky man.

She let out a giggle.

“What?”

The face she turned up to him bore an impish grin. “My family isn’t going to believe this. Me, the ‘I’ve sworn off men forever’ sister, coming home with a sexy guy.”

“Happy to oblige.”

The flight attendant paused in the aisle. “Sorry to interrupt, but I don’t think you heard the announcement. I need you to straighten your seat backs, do up your seat belts, and stow your personal items.”

They complied with the attendant’s instructions and Theresa put away her reading glasses. Then she said, sounding nervous, “My father’s a night owl. If he’s not working, he may come to the airport.”

“Okay. Guess it doesn’t matter whether I meet him tonight or tomorrow.”

“No. I’ll have to think what to tell him about you.”

“There’s some reason you can’t just say, ‘yesterday I climbed on a flight, met a guy, had sex pretty much for twenty-four hours straight, and now we’re in a relationship’?” he teased.

She snorted. “Imagine if you had a daughter, Damien. Would that line work for you?”

A daughter. Man. With a woman like Theresa in his life, that possibility didn’t seem so distant. “I’d probably want to shoot the guy.”

“here you go.”

“Oh thanks, that’s comforting.” He grinned at her. “So, does the senior Dr. Fallon tote a firearm?”

She gave a hoot of laughter. “Not only is he totally nonviolent, he’s the most mechanically inept person you can imagine. If he had a gun, he’d shoot himself in the foot. No, his weapon of choice would be some deadly microbe that the coroner would never, in a million years, identify. It’d be ruled death by natural causes and he’d get away scot-free.” She leaned close so the soft fullness of her breast brushed his arm, making his pulse race. “So you’d better treat me nice, mister.”

“That was my plan. With or without the microbe threat.” When she sat back in her seat, he took her hand.

“Let’s avoid the subject of how long we’ve known each other,” she said.

“It’s your call.”

“They’ll ask how we met, though. Everyone always asks that.”

“Met in a bookstore. You insulted my books. It has the virtue of being the truth.”

She slanted him a grin. “I like it.”

“And despite your disdain for my writing, my charm won you over.”

“And again,” she teased, “it’s the truth.”

The plane jolted slightly and he glanced over to the window. “We’re on the ground.”

“Welcome to Vancouver.”

“My first time here, but I’ve heard lots of good things.”

“It’s a lovely city. Mountains, ocean, gardens, shopping, culture, and it’s truly cosmopolitan.”

“A nice place to grow up?”

“Yes, thanks in large part to my grandmother. My parents were wrapped up in their careers and they were so keen on me doing well in school, I could have spent all my time buried in my studies. At least, when I wasn’t trying to organize my sisters. But Gran took us girls out every Sunday. We saw Science Centre, art exhibits, the zoo and aquarium, parks and gardens, Chinatown, Commercial Drive.”

“She sounds like a special woman.”

A shadow crossed Theresa’s face. “She was. She was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s three years ago and that person has been disappearing. Last time I was here, I visited her four times and she only recognized me twice.”

“Maybe we could go see her together,” he found himself saying.

“You want to meet my grandmother?”

“She’s important to you.” Grandmothers were special, he figured. “And she’s disappearing, like you said. Maybe this time she’ll recognize you, and you can introduce me.” Jeez, he was wading in deeper and deeper with Tezzie, but so far the water felt just fine.

She squeezed his hand. “Thank you. That would mean a lot to me.”

The bell pinged to announce that the plane had reached the arrival gate, and they both gathered their things. Damien turned on his mobile and saw there were messages, but they could wait until he was in the taxi on the way to his hotel.

As he and Theresa shuffled down the aisle, he bent close to her ear. “A different kind of flight than the one from Sydney.”

Color tinged her cheeks. “This one was good, too. In its own way.”

“That it was.” Even if he was hungry for her, and wished he could carry her off to his hotel room.

Once they were off the plane and striding side by side up the ramp, he said, voice low, “When am I going to get you alone again? Will your parents let us share a room?”

“You think I’ll give them a choice?” She gave him a quick smile. “Actually, they’re pretty liberal. Matt’s been staying over with Merilee for years.”

“You’ll have to curb your impulse to scream at the top of your lungs when you come.”

Her cheeks were rosy. “I do not.”

“Don’t have to curb it?” he teased, “or don’t do it?”

Her cheeks went brighter.

They were now in the terminal itself and walked hand in hand as they followed the signs to Customs.

“Hey, this is quite something,” he said. The building was huge and airy, almost deserted at this hour. Nature sounds met his ears and they walked into a diorama that portrayed a natural setting—forest and beach—and featured some striking art, including a canoe and a giant bird carving. “First Nations art?” He could see similarities to Indigenous Australian art in the dramatic colors and stylized representations of animals and birds.

“Yes. Lovely, isn’t it?”

The diorama was peaceful, intriguing, an odd thing to find in the middle of an international airport. The kind of place that would have made him want to linger, had it not been the middle of the night with Customs to clear, baggage to claim, and transportation to organize.

“It’s a pity you can’t stay in Vancouver longer,” she said. “There are wonderful First Nations galleries and arts and craft stores, as well as all the other things I told you about.”

“We’ll plan another trip,” he said. “When I can arrange for more time and you won’t have a wedding to organize. You can show me the city. Like your Gran showed it to you.”

“I’d like that.” She gazed at him with a touch of wonder in her expression.

He grinned, thinking the future had never looked so bright.

When his first Kalti Brown book had hit the shelves, when his publisher had contracted for books three and four in the series, when he’d first hit a bestseller list, he’d thought life couldn’t get any better. Now he knew it could. And it would. Because he’d met Theresa Fallon.

Escalators led down to the Customs floor where he saw a zigzag queue leading to perhaps eight booths with Customs officers. He and the prof were both fast walkers and had passed a number of passengers, but being seated at the back of the plane had put them at a disadvantage. The line was moving quickly, though, and it wasn’t long before they reached the front and were cleared to move into the baggage claim area.

Theresa pointed to a luggage inquiry desk. “Hopefully my bag’s over there. I’ll check while you find yours.”

He headed over to the only carousel that had bags circling on the conveyor belt, and a few minutes later was towing his wheeled bag toward where Theresa was claiming her own.

“Love it when the luggage arrives,” she said with a smile. “It makes life so much easier.”

They both pulled their bags toward the exit of the baggage area, showed their Customs forms to the officials, and headed for the doors that led out into Arrivals.

“I wonder if Dad will be here?” She sounded excited, a little nervous, as she went ahead of him out the door.

He followed, to hear a young female voice squeal, “Theresa!”

A pretty girl with shoulder-length honey-blond hair was leaping up and down, waving. Then she ran toward Theresa, towing a young man.

“M&M!” Theresa cried, raising her hand to wave back.

Following the pair were a tall, slim, middle-aged man with silvery hair and glasses, and a striking woman who looked like an older version of Theresa.

Ready or not, he was going to meet the whole family tonight.

The girl, Merilee, flung her arms around Theresa and the two hugged tight, bouncing up and down. Then Theresa went to her mother, then father, for hugs that were brief but warm. Finally she stretched up to kiss the young man on the cheek. “Hi there, soon-to-be brother.”

“Hey, Theresa. Welcome home.”

Now she turned to Damien and held out her hand.