Eternity

by Teresa Federici

  “Please, have a seat. Would you like something to drink?” He had his hand on the back of a big leather wing chair, one that sat across from its twin, and I realized then that we weren’t going to be sitting across from each other with the huge Victorian desk between us, but in a sitting area, completely informal, like two friends meeting for coffee. I was thoroughly confused. Being so close to him was not going to make that state any better.

  “Water, please.” I answered; I had to get real good at concealing my emotions real fast, so with a harder mental shake than the last one, I straightened my back and strengthened my resolve. I heard a soft chuckle behind me.

  I wondered briefly what he was laughing at, but wasn’t sure I wanted to know. I sat in the chair, crossing my legs and fussing with my pant legs, fidgeting to have something to do. He set a glass of water on the little table next to my chair and sat down across from me, crossing his legs and fixing me with an intent stare.

  He didn’t speak, just watched me, and I squirmed uncomfortably. Not a fan of attention to begin with, I really didn’t want this kind of attention, those unusual eyes boring into my own, wondering what he was thinking. As if he could read my mind, he answered my unspoken question.

  “I was thinking about our meeting last night, at the pub. You were obviously uncomfortable with it, and I wanted to apologize. I tried to last night, but you ran out of there so quickly that I didn’t have a chance.” His voice was sincere, a little chagrined. It made me feel slightly better, but a little more confused, if that were possible at this point.

  “No offense, Dr. Macgregor, but couldn’t you have just called me?” I asked, proud of myself that my voice didn’t crack this time, or hit octaves I hadn’t hit since high school.

  He smiled, showing those perfect white teeth, and my heart melted the rest of the way.

  “I could have, yes, but there was more I wanted to say and I didn’t feel that a phone call was appropriate. You seemed a little distressed, and you even mentioned something about me regretting hiring you. I assured you last night that I didn’t regret it, but you didn’t quite seem to believe it. I wanted to assure you that I absolutely do not regret employing you, and in fact, I’m quite impressed with the research that you have been doing.”

  “Oh, well, thank you. I wasn’t aware that I was being observed.” It shocked me a little that he had noticed what work I was doing. It wasn’t anything I thought of as particularly groundbreaking.

  “Although we research quite a few diseases here, I’m particularly drawn to the XP research,” his mouth quirked up at that, as though enjoying a private joke, “so I tend to notice more the people that work in that area. You, I’ve noticed, take a more active approach than most of your fellow workers. XP doesn’t get the attention that it should, given that everyone wants to find a cure for cancer or AIDS.”

  I started fidgeting, though I tried to control it. His eyes intent on me, I was sure he would notice if I so much as twitched a finger.

  “Well, I’m sure you’re aware of my back ground, so it’s only natural that I’m interested in it.” I said it as nonchalantly as possible, taking for granted that he knew what I was referring to.

  He cocked his head to the side, the look in his eyes sharpening.

  “I’m not aware of your background. Would you care to explain?”

  I looked at him, nonplussed. I had just assumed that an organization like Macgregor Biosciences would have done such an extensive background check that they would have known about my parents.

  “Um, my mother had XP. I grew up with first-hand knowledge of the disease.” I stammered, my composure shattered. I had not been prepared for a line of questioning, especially one that would make me more uncomfortable than I already was.

  He either didn’t notice my discomfort, or chose to ignore it, because he seemed inordinately intrigued. Even his posture showed his interest; he straightened and leaned forward, uncrossing his legs and resting his elbows on his knees.

  “Your mother had XP? That’s extraordinary. And because of that you decided to study it?”

  He sounded almost like a kid discovering comic books for the first time, his tone a blend of awe and curiosity. It actually went a long way to calming me.

  “That’s why I decided to make it my life’s work.” I clarified. “It made a lasting impression.”

  “I’m sure that it did. I believe that a lot of scientists and doctors are in their professions because of childhood tragedies. How long ago was this?”

  I wasn’t sure how much I wanted to tell him, but he seemed genuinely interested. I didn’t think he was humoring me.

  “My mom died ten years ago, right after I was accepted at college.”

  He must’ve heard some of the sadness that always leaked out when I talked about my mom, because his gaze softened.

  “Almost as though she were waiting to see if you were okay, that you would have a life outside of hers.” He mused, and my head snapped up.

  That was exactly what I was thinking, what I always thought about my mother’s death. How was he in my head?

  “Yes, that’s what I think, too. I almost didn’t go, though. My dad was alone, they had been together since college. He pretty much forced me.”

  It amazed me that I was telling him these things. I had never talked to anyone about my parents, not college friends or lovers; it was too private and no one had ever gotten that close. So, why was I telling him this?

  “I can see this is a subject that you don’t like to talk about. As I was saying about your work here, I am very interested in the work you’re doing with the gene mapping sequence. How you’re tracing the gene mutation.”

  He had surprised me, again. I thought he would have asked about my father, which would have been the logical direction of the conversation. Now he had moved onto my work. I was the most confused a person could be and not be committed.

  I realized that he was waiting for me to speak, but I didn’t know what to say.

  “Have you isolated the enzyme that causes the UVB sensitivity?”

  His prompt gave me a different topic to focus on and I was grateful for something to talk about besides my past, although it occurred to me then how closely he was watching my work.

  “No, although I think I’m close. I have to do a lot more research.”

  He studied me a moment longer, long enough to make me feel a dull heat start to creep into my cheeks.

  “Well, then, I’ll let you get back to it.” He stood, and I realized that the conversation was over. I never got to question him about the night before.

  He moved toward the door, so I stood to follow him, not paying attention to him, lost as I was in thought. I had wanted to ask him about the bar, and the fact that we had almost kissed. I knew that if I hadn’t pulled away, that’s what would have happened. I could clearly recall his eyes on mine as he had lowered his face, the feel of his hands wrapped around my arms.

  I hadn’t realized he had stopped until I ran into the back of him. It was like hitting a brick wall. It’s not like I was moving quickly, but I jolted from the impact all the same. The man must live on a weight machine, I thought to myself as I rubbed my nose where it had connected with his back; his body was as hard as a statue.

  “Was there something you wanted to ask me, Dr. Greer?”

  He didn’t turn around, and he seemed too tense all of a sudden. I didn’t think I should say anything; the tension in his body was coming off him in waves, and I couldn’t even begin to guess what had caused it.

  I was nothing if not curious, and I had to ask the question that was foremost in my mind.

  “Dr. Macgregor, about last night. What was that all about?”

  He was so still that I was certain he wouldn’t answer. So sure that I started around his frozen form, ready to let myself out of the office, but as I passed him he put a hand to my shoulder. I could feel the burning heat of his hand seared through my blouse, and it reminded me of how his skin had been so cold in m
y dreams. That was definitely something I was not going to bring up.

  “I’m sorry about that, too. It’s something that I would hope that you could forget. It was completely improper, and a mistake on my part.”

  The hurt that pierced my heart at his words almost crippled me. So much that my eyes welled up and I was thankful that he couldn’t see me. I nodded as competently as I could, afraid that my voice would give away my pain if I spoke, but even through my haze of misery, I could hear the regret and sadness in his voice. Because it was a mistake? Or because it was something he wanted, but couldn’t have? I guessed I would never know.

  I held my head high as I walked out of his office, smiling absently at Jessica as I made a beeline for the elevator. I jabbed the button, hoping that hitting it a hundred times would make it arrive sooner. I could feel tears threatening to overwhelm me, and I wanted to get into the elevator as quickly as possible.

  I was so mad at myself. Why was I having this reaction? He meant nothing to me, could be nothing other than what he was; my employer and nothing more. I risked a look behind me, scared that he would be watching me, scared that he wouldn’t be.

  He was standing in the doorway still, a look on his sensational face that could only be described as regret. It took my breath away and I faced the steel doors again, raising my eyes and staring at the overhead lights, willing my tears back.

  As soon as the doors slid open, I dashed inside, mashing the button for my floor so hard I worried that I would break it. I resisted the urge to curl myself up on the floor and cry, fought to hold my rioting emotions in check. What the hell was going on?

  I had no experience with real love, nothing to compare what I was feeling now to prior memories. How could I love someone I hardly knew? Someone I should actually fear?

  I wiped my tears away viciously, angry with myself, angry with him. I hated the way he was making me feel, and my emotions were just playing along, caught up in his sad eyes and beautiful visage.

  Was I really that shallow?

  I knew I wasn’t; there was something about him, something that spoke to me on a visceral level.

  Despite everything he had said to the contrary, I knew that I affected him, too.

  Luckily, when I got back to the lab, no one had even noticed that I had been gone, let alone where I had been. That helped to improve my mood, made me feel better, and I was able to do my work for the day, despite being more than a little distracted.

  Chapter Four

  After another sleepless night spent in useless rumination, I made it to work miraculously on time. I sat down at my station, thankful that my voicemail light wasn’t blinking.

  Having resolved in the night to put Gareth out of my mind, because I was tired of all the questions he generated in my beleaguered brain, I concentrated on my work.

  Telling myself repeatedly that I would concentrate only on my work, do what I was paid to do, and go home when I was done, I managed to get myself seated at my desk and fired up my computer. Another action I resolved to do was possibly continue locking my doors at night.

  I should have known it would not be that simple.

  Staring into my analyzing machine, jotting down notes without even looking away, the fact that the lab was unusually silent finally broke through my concentration.

  Imagining only too easily what had made that happen, I resisted the urge to turn around. I went back to what I was doing, which was deconstructing a mutated gene, and resolutely concentrated on it.

  When he came to stand behind me, I didn’t even bother to turn around. I was smugly satisfied that I was able to exert that much restraint over my screaming instinct to turn to him.

  “Dr. Greer, how are you today?”

  Hearing the sound of repressed mirth in his voice, it almost melted my determination to be nonchalant. I spun around to face him, my movement controlled and showing no trace of eagerness.

  I was even able to look him in the eye without melting. Almost.

  The rush of blood that flooded my face was not something I could control, and he caught the blush as it crept up from my neck. I could almost see his eyes tracing its path as it moved inexorably upward.

  In what I hoped was a voice calm and only slightly annoyed, I answered him.

  “I’m doing fine, Dr. Macgregor. I’m a little busy though, so is there something I could help you with?”

  I could hear sniggers in the background, and a shocked gasp from someone as my irritated response made it to all corners of the big lab. Apparently, no one had implied to him before that his presence was less than welcome.

  Instead of the response that I hoped to get, one that matched my irritableness, he smiled a slightly crooked smile and nodded, as though he could read my true thoughts.

  “I was just curious as to what you were working on. After our talk yesterday, I thought I would come down and see for myself.”

  His eyes flashed a challenge, and I cursed silently. Just what I was trying to avoid yesterday happened, and I could hear excited whispers start rolling around the lab. More attention that I didn’t want, and somehow he knew it. That smile was still there, quirking the corner of his mouth.

  Turning away from him, I gestured to the analyzing machine and my notes, inviting him to take a look. I was trying very hard to not enter into conversation with him.

  I pushed my rolling stool out of the way to give him access, but my workstation was not very big. I had to stop or else roll into Grace, who was staring at Gareth as though he were a particularly delectable piece of cake. I grudgingly admitted to myself that she had something there, and looked at Gareth curiously as his big shoulders shook with suppressed laughter.

  Did he find something funny about my work? The thought that he found my research laughable had me getting up from my stool and moving to the opposite side of him, to look down at my notes.

  Seeing nothing remotely humorous in my meticulous notes, I stared at where he was bent over the machine, my expression thunderous.

  He cast a glance at me sideways, still smiling that crooked smile, and then looked over at Grace, who fluttered her hands through her messy hair in a move that could only be described as preening.

  Straightening, he turned back to me and pointed at the machine.

  “I don’t see exactly what you’re doing here. Could you please explain?”

  He shot a look around the lab, and those that were in the vicinity must have interpreted his look correctly, because everyone turned back to their projects, as though he had spoken his request to get back to work out loud.

  I grudgingly moved in front of him, bending to the machine.

  “Well, I’m deconstructing the mutated gene. It was collected from a patient with a particularly aggressive form of XP, and I…” I lost all thought and speech function as he leaned in next to me, his broad shoulders touching mine, his large hand brushing my smaller one where I had placed it on the counter. My mouth went dry and my pulse sped up, lighting a slow burn in my blood.

  “I see that, but what are you hoping to accomplish?”

  His words were low and directly in my ear, his breath surprisingly cool. The shiver that went down my spine couldn’t have been more powerful than if he had suggested that he wanted to make love to me.

  He was doing it on purpose. I don’t know how I knew that, but as soon as I figured it out, he moved so that his lips caressed my ear in gesture that would have looked innocuous to anyone watching; two colleagues with their heads together working over a puzzling complication.

  I sucked in a silent breath, trying not to melt where I stood. I moved my head away from his as far as I could without looking like I was trying to stand away from him.

  I was trapped by my own dislike of drawing attention to myself, and he knew it. I could tell by the way his smile changed from humorous to sly. I glared at him, but his smile only got bigger.

  “Dr. Macgregor…” I started to hiss quietly, but he cut me off.

  “Please, call me Gareth.
” His voice was silky, roguish. He was completely enjoying himself.

  Well, two could play that game. I only hoped that I had the mental fortitude to not get caught up in the game.

  Casting him what I hoped was a flirtatious glance I turned back to the analyzing machine, practically purring his name.

  “Gareth, then. What I’m looking for is a break in the DNA strand, a defect.” I deliberately moved closer to him, pressing the right side of my body against his as close as I could get without it looking obvious to the many pairs of eyes that I’m sure were watching us. I could tell from the sideways glance he gave me he knew what I was up to, but instead of backing away, he played into it. Crap, my plan had failed. Now I had to play through.

  Shifting, he looked into the machine again. His head brushed my chest as he leaned forward, causing tremors to course through me. If he had turned his head to the left, he could have brushed his lips across my breasts.

  Gritting my teeth, I ignored the trembling in my muscles, wishing for a cold shower. I didn’t know how much more of this I could take. Would we end up on the floor in front of everyone? I would hope that propriety and dignity would stop him before he let it get that far, because I wasn’t sure my resolve would hold.

  “And what would finding a defect prove?” I heard him murmur as he placed his hand on top of mine, which were thankfully blocked from Grace’s view by the analyzing machine. His thumb started to rub circles on my palm, lightly and with careless precision. Looking to my right, over his bent back, and at the wall that marked the end of my workstation, I swallowed convulsively. I had to take a moment to answer him, or else I was sure my words would not be heard.

  The feel of his cool hand on mine, of the feather light caress of his thumb, was driving me to complete distraction, and if I didn’t regain my composure, I would lose this dangerous game we were playing in full view of my co-workers, his employees.

  Fighting the urge to rip my hand out from under his, I bent low next to his head, turning my head ever-so-slightly so that I could speak into his ear, but make it look like I was looking into the machine with him.