Like Lovers Do

by Tracey Livesay

  Dee rubbed her chin. “I’ll have to look at my bills after I get paid next week. If I pay half on the electric, they won’t cut it off. Then I can put aside a little extra for the next few weeks to pay the extra next month. It wouldn’t hurt to not get my morning coffee from the cafe for a little while . . .”

  Her mother’s voice trailed off and Nic knew she was playing a round of “bill bingo” in her mind. She remembered it well from growing up. Had done it herself during college and med school to survive on as little money from her mother as possible.

  “I could pick up an extra shift at the diner or a few more houses to clean . . .”

  Nic’s stomach squeezed as her mother strategized how to afford a trip.

  While she went away with her friends to fabulous places every year.

  “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll cover the trip and give you extra to cover what you’ll lose in income.”

  “You don’t need to do that, honey.”

  Yes, she did.

  “I know. But I’ll do it anyway.”

  Dee laughed. “That should’ve been your middle name.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Nicole ‘I’ll do it anyway’ Allen. When you were three, you almost pulled the bookcase down on top of you because you kept crawling up it to get the toy I hid from you. When you were nine, you climbed to the top of the monkey bars even though I forbid it after you fell the first time—”

  “And when I was eighteen, I decided to go to college and med school, instead of staying home to help you.”

  “Nic—”

  A brief knock had her swinging a startled gaze over to find Ben standing in her doorway, a glass of wine in his hand, his dark hair disheveled in that way that told her he’d raked his fingers through it repeatedly. He started to back away, but she shook her head.

  “I have to go.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you soon. I love you, Nicole. I’m so proud of you.”

  Number thirty-seven.

  “I know. And I love you.”

  Ben entered her space after she disconnected the call. “I thought you’d need this.”

  “I do. Thanks.”

  She took the glass and when her fingers grazed his, it drew her attention to his hand. As a surgeon, she spent a lot of time studying people’s hands. An occupational hazard. Ben’s palms were large, his fingers long and slim with blunt-tipped ends. They looked strong and capable, like they could dribble a basketball, suture a cut . . .

  . . . or bring a woman to pleasure with a few well-placed strokes.

  What the hell?

  “Are you okay?” Ben asked. “Did I interrupt something?”

  She tilted her head at his pinched expression. “No. Why?”

  “You’re blushing.”

  “No I’m not! I never blush.”

  “If you say so,” he murmured, unconvincingly.

  Probably because she could feel the heat blazing in her cheeks. Like a neon sign proclaiming, “I was thinking about youuuuuu . . .”

  “I was just talking to my mom.”

  “Oh.” He sat down next to her. “How is Ms. Dee?”

  She smiled. It was cute that he referred to her mother that way. “Working hard, as usual. She doesn’t know how to take a break.”

  “It’s genetic then?”

  She narrowed her eyes at him, but said, “I invited her to come to Durham for a little while when I leave for Duke.”

  “When’s the last time you saw her?”

  “When she came here to visit just after I moved in.”

  “She was so protective of you. Wanted to know my intentions,” he said, smiling.

  Dee had left satisfied that Nic would be okay.

  “That Ben is a lovely young man. If someone”—Dee’s pointed tone and exaggerated eye movements had made it clear who she was referring to—“were interested in getting married, he’d be a wonderful husband.”

  Since getting married was the last thing on her mind, she hadn’t paid her mother’s comment any attention. But after three years of living with him, of witnessing his kindness, his compassion, and his capacity to nurture the people he cared about, she had to admit her mother was right. Nic was excited about Duke, but she couldn’t deny that part of what she’d miss when she left was Ben. He’d become extremely important to her in the past few years. She hoped she didn’t lose his friendship.

  “I’m sure she’ll enjoy the trip.”

  “She will. I just have to convince her not to worry about the cost.”

  “Van Mont Industries has several condos in a building close to the campus for when any of the executives are in town for meetings or guest lectures. If any of them are free, you can stay there while you look for your new apartment.”

  Was he serious?

  “We couldn’t.”

  “Why not? It makes no sense for you to pay for a hotel when we have a perfectly good place you could stay.”

  “Thank you.” She stared into his expressive eyes. Were those flecks of amber in the dark depths? How had she never noticed before? Or the thick dark lashes that framed them. The heat she saw reflected back at her stole her breath and she looked away, her eyes stinging as if she hadn’t blinked in minutes. She cleared her throat. “But enough about me. Where’s your friend?”

  “Davis?” His voice held a rough edge. “He left.”

  “Not on my account, I hope?”

  “Oh no, your accusation and cool demeanor made him feel quite at home.”

  Considering what Ben had just offered her and the fact that she’d been rude to his friend in his home, she winced. “I’m sorry. Do you want me to apologize?”

  He waved a nonchalant hand. “I’m just messing with you. He’s catching the train back to New York but we’re having dinner first. I told him I’d meet him there.”

  She cradled the glass of wine in her hand, stared down into its contents. “I don’t think I’ve met him before.”

  “You haven’t.”

  Giving in to curiosity she asked, “Was he planning to stay longer?”

  “No. Some of my friends will be out of the country for a while, so a group of us are getting together for a week on Martha’s Vineyard. Davis felt a need to inform me of the updated guest list.”

  “Isn’t that the mythical coastal town where old money summers and rubs elbows with the Kennedys and the Bushes?”

  One corner of his mouth curled upward. “Not exactly.”

  Nic studied his expression and tone of voice and took into account that his friend came all the way from New York to give him this information in person . . .

  “Who are you trying to avoid?”

  “Who says—”

  “Ben, we can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

  Once the words were in the air, she wished she would’ve chosen another expression. The words “hard way” seemed to linger between them, stoking a blaze that, until yesterday, she hadn’t been aware was simmering. Those gorgeous eyes dropped to her mouth and the amber flecks seemed to gleam as they followed the movement of her tongue darting out to moisten lips suddenly parched.

  “Tinsley. My ex,” he said.

  Nic inhaled a sharp breath, a sting piercing her chest as she imagined Tinsley. Tall. Angular. Blond. Impeccably dressed in couture.

  She took a sip of wine. “And what happened with Tinsley?”

  “She broke up with me.”

  Come again? Why would anyone break up with Ben? He was sweet, smart, rich, and good-looking. He was the perfect catch.

  For anyone looking to receive.

  Which she wasn’t.

  “Why?”

  “Because it became clear that I wasn’t going to become a chip off the Van Mont block.”

  Nic felt indignant on Ben’s behalf. “But you’re extremely successful at what you do! Last year you were named Baltimore’s Financial Services Champion of the Year and you’ve been named as one to watch in cash management by Fortune magazine!”

  “Thank you fo
r your defense, but this was years ago. When I first decided to start my business.”

  “Let me guess. She’s having second thoughts?”

  “I don’t know, but she’s been stirring the pot and Davis wanted to give me a heads-up.” He laughed. “He even suggested I bring the person I’m dating to prevent her from getting any ideas.”

  “That seems extreme. Have you considered just telling her you’re not interested?”

  “If you knew Tinsley you’d know she doesn’t always allow words to get in the way of what she wants.”

  And she wanted Ben.

  “Are you reconsidering the trip now? Because of Tinsley?”

  He braced his elbows on his thighs, his hands falling between his knees. “Maybe.”

  Ben wasn’t an in-your-face arrogant guy, but he always projected a complete confidence in himself and his decisions. This uncertainty was new.

  “You remember me talking about my friend Caila, right?”

  “She’s one of your friends from college. The ones you go on vacation with. Caila, Ava, and Lacey.”

  Warmth spread throughout her chest. She mentioned them often and it was nice to know he listened.

  “Last year, while we were on our trip, Caila lost her grandfather.”

  “Shit. That must’ve been rough.”

  “It was. They were very close. She was fucked-up over it for a while. Almost lost her job.”

  Though, in the end, it all seemed to work out for her. As it usually did. Smart and beautiful, Caila had never met a goal she couldn’t achieve. And when it looked like she finally had, she ended up with a promotion and a sexy new man.

  “If she had the opportunity to spend time with him again, she’d take it, no matter what she had to do. And that’s how we feel about our vacations. These are your friends. Don’t let something as petty as an ex get in the way. You never know how much time any of us has.”

  She saw it constantly in her work.

  As if on cue, her phone rang, and she checked the caller ID.

  Ben sighed and pushed to his feet. “I’ll leave you to take your call.”

  “No, it’s only Amalia.” She raised the phone and answered the voice call. “What’s—”

  “I wanted to give you a heads-up,” Amalia said, the urgency in her voice alarming.

  “About what?”

  “I was upstairs when I saw Whitaker’s father in Agner’s office.”

  “He already talked to me about it. Told me to take a couple of weeks off.”

  “No. Just now,” Amalia said. “Whitaker Sr. was apoplectic. Ranting that what you did could follow his son and ruin his career. He said you wouldn’t like it if someone did that to you.”

  What could he do? She was leaving Hopkins in a few weeks, and now, thanks to Agner, she wouldn’t be there for most of it.

  She said as much to Amalia.

  “Whitaker Sr. said he knew Dr. Newman.”

  Nic hissed in a breath. “James Newman? As in the head of my fellowship program?”

  “I’m afraid so. Whitaker threatened to call him and demand he rescind your fellowship offer.”

  Dread dragged its cold, gnarly fingers down her spine. “Motherfucker!”

  Chapter Seven

  “And here I believed you when you said you were leaving Van Mont Industries because of the terrible work hours.”

  Ben looked up from his desk to find Dr. Fallon Rothschild Van Mont standing in the doorway to his office. His mother was the personification of old Baltimore money, from the top of her chignon-coiffed dark hair to the upturned collar of her white tailored button-down shirt to the tips of her Italian loafers.

  Ben stiffened, unease coiling in the pit of his stomach. “How did you know I was here?”

  “I didn’t. It’s after six thirty so I stopped by your house first and when you weren’t there, I decided to try here.”

  That was more effort than she usually put into anything involving him.

  “I wasn’t expecting you.”

  Fallon arched a finely drawn eyebrow. “Clearly. Maybe if you were, I’d get a better greeting.”

  He clenched his jaw at the rebuke, but rose and went over to her, pressing a kiss on her cheek. “Hello, Mother. Please have a seat.”

  “Thank you, Benjamin.” She examined the space, her eyes lingering on the plaques on his wall that broadcast the same awards Nic had referenced yesterday. “It looks different from the last time I was here.”

  Oh, you mean the time you’d breezed through here on your way to London, took one look at my new office and declared, “Quite a downgrade from your suite of offices at Van Mont Industries”?

  He fought back the bitterness being in her presence evoked and cleared his throat. “What are you doing in town? I thought you were in New York for several months assisting on a research project?”

  Fallon crossed one trouser-clad leg over the other. “I am. I’m only back for a couple of days. Hopkins called me in to consult on a case.”

  His mother was a world-renowned cardiothoracic surgeon whose skills and expertise were still in high demand, though she was in her late sixties.

  “What can I do for you?”

  “I wanted you to know the board voted to add a new strategic arm to Van Mont Industries at our last quarterly meeting.”

  Since they were still practicing physicians, his parents weren’t involved in the day-to-day running of Van Mont Industries, though they, like a few of his relatives, were on the board of directors.

  He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “You tracked me down to inform me of something I could’ve read in the annual shareholders report?”

  “I wanted to see your face when I told you the news.”

  That would be a first.

  Growing up, he’d seen his housekeeper more than his parents. On the rare occasions they were home, they ignored his presence unless they needed him for a publicity photo or an event to promote their family.

  He had no idea why his mother thought he’d be interested in anything that had to do with Van Mont Industries, but he’d learned the sooner she was able to complete her task, the sooner she’d leave. And he could get back to the work he did and the life he’d created where his wishes mattered.

  He waited, knowing it wouldn’t take long. Fallon was never one to take the circuitous route when a direct one was available.

  “We’ve decided to establish a charitable foundation.”

  Shock stiffened his posture. For years, he’d asked his family to consider doing that very thing. The company had been in a great financial position for several decades and it made sound business sense from a public relations and taxes perspective.

  But his requests had always been met with an avalanche of excuses that had added up to not a chance in hell. The most used rationalization? The business’s sole responsibility was to engage in activities to increase its profits, not give them away.

  He wondered, why the change?

  Instead he asked, “What will your mission be?”

  “To fund research into the development of medications to fight disease. Additionally, we want to look at offering programs to help offset the cost of certain prescription medications.”

  He nodded. “I’m glad the company has finally decided to go this route. You’ll help a lot of people.”

  Fallon eyed him. “We want you to come back and run it.”

  Her statement rendered him speechless.

  If he were still working at Van Mont Industries, he would’ve jumped at the opportunity. He knew setting up a corporate charitable program of that magnitude would not be easy. He’d have been looking at intensive fourteen-hour days, six to seven days a week. But the chance to use his family’s wealth and influence to effect change on a massive scale? Worth it.

  But not now.

  It had taken a lot of hard work to build a business he loved and was proud of. And though he’d known leaving Van Mont Industries was the right thing to do, making that brea
k from his family had been stressful and difficult. He wasn’t willing to give up everything he’d achieved, including his peace of mind, to get sucked back into the family’s dysfunction.

  He shook his head. “I’m sorry you came out of your way, but I’m not interested.”

  Her brown eyes, so like his own, widened. “Why not? You’d be CEO! And we’re talking an initial funding of a quarter of a billion dollars! The power and prestige you’d have would be immense!”

  “Which is why you’ll have no problem finding someone to take the position.”

  “I will never understand you. You’d rather stay here”—she said the word as if they were sitting in the city dump—“than come back to the company your family started and take your place—”

  “Mother!” He could recite the words by heart. There wasn’t a conversation with Fallon that didn’t end up back down this road. “It’s not happening. I made my choice.”

  “I’m allowed to have an opinion, Benjamin,” she said.

  He recognized the tone. He’d been on the receiving end of her displeasure for years.

  “I don’t have time to attend your science fair, Benjamin. I’m accepting an award. Enter again next year and we’ll see.”

  “Please let go of me, Benjamin. You’re getting dirt on my coat. I don’t have time to make brownies for your school. That’s what our housekeeper is for.”

  “Stop complaining, Benjamin. Haven’t we given you everything? I don’t have time for your awards ceremony. Do we have to be there to witness your excellence? Especially when it’s expected?”

  He knew a lot of what his mother did and didn’t have.

  In abundance.

  Fallon exhaled and shifted in the chair. “Why did I have to hear from someone else that you’re going to be on the Vineyard next week? Is it true?”

  Talk about conversational whiplash.

  He nodded, thankful Davis had given him a heads-up. “Yes, I’ll be there. Though I don’t understand why you needed to know. It’s just a trip.”

  “A trip you’ve been unable to make the past two summers when your father and I have asked,” she said, clasping her hands together on her lap, her chin trembling ever so slightly.

  Ben narrowed his eyes. He didn’t believe for one second his mother was hurt by his refusal to join the family at their compound. In truth, he had no interest in spending time with them, either shrugging off verbal slights or defending his decision to work outside of the family business. But—