Immersed: Book 6 in The Ripple Effect Romance Series (A Ripple Effect Romance Novella)

by Jennifer Griffith

  A tidal wave of longing hit Lisette—if only he’d meant those words for her.

  Erik arrived, prompt as always. Despite the conversation she’d overheard, she had to struggle to keep her knees from getting watery when she saw him. They gelled right up, though, when she saw which car he drove—the silver sports car the diva had picked him up in that night. The memory threw cold water in her face.

  Until he spoke again, sending her mind all gooey. Dang him.

  “The weather is getting warm. I will put the top down on my car.” His definition of “warm” as a man from Iceland didn’t match hers. It might crawl above fifty degrees today, so she might not need thermal underwear. “Women always want to secure their hair when they ride with the top down.” He threw this out so casually she almost missed the fact that he implied he took boatloads of women in his convertible.

  Still, it was considerate. Probably none of his other dates needed Hug-Tight-Sticky-Glue to keep their greasy brown wigs on. It’d take a gale force to reveal her blonde ponytail coiled underneath.

  Wait, did she just refer to herself as among his dates? Nuh-uh. He was a client. Through and through. Even though he’d put his arm around her waist and pulled her to him at the mall, then bought her lunch, it was nothing more than acting and business. And even though the trips to the local museums and the hike were things dating people did, this relationship was strictly professional. Erik wanted more time speaking English, and he liked to do interesting things while he was in town. He didn’t like to eat lunch alone. She was not his date. With her free hand, she tapped her forehead with her fingers just to drill that fact in.

  They got in the car. He tore toward campus, and she held onto her wig.

  “I want to see if I can understand all the business vocabulary. Jargon, yes?” Erik’s business vocabulary—and all his vocabulary—had taken great strides forward during weeks three, four, and five. She couldn’t help giving herself a little pat on the back for that. “And he will talk fast. I want to listen to someone talk fast about business.”

  This was why she’d ultimately agreed to this dangerous plan.

  A glance in the side-view mirror told her the mascara looked so much better than no-mascara. It was like her eyes came back after hibernating all winter. She batted her lashes. Oh, she’d better not be practicing any of that.

  She looked over at Erik as he ran the shifter through the gear box. A longing rose in her. That olive skin. Those chestnut curls. The smooth shave.

  I am in so much trouble.

  Erik’s English, though he claimed he needed help, came close to full fluency. Why he didn’t fire her she didn’t know, but she was getting to the point where she didn’t care. The prospect of being at his side all day made her smile when she opened her eyes each morning.

  She needed to get out of trouble—keep her longing in check. Think of his bad points.

  One, he was too good looking. This made him a jerk by default. Extremely good looking men took women for granted. They believed every woman would fall for them without any effort on their part. Except Erik made every effort—always treating her like she was a precious pearl.

  Scratch that. So, starting over.

  One, he had too much money, and that would make him materialistic. Money obsessed. Two, if she married him, her mother would feel vindicated.

  Except he wasn’t materialistic. He bought her turkey and havarti sandwiches, but got the dollar menu for himself. He might have marched into Himmel’s with the declaration that he wanted the most expensive ring, but he didn’t buy it. And he dressed in well-worn jeans and various colored Henley or flannel shirts. The only flashy thing about him was this car, and watching him drive it, he didn’t drive it for the flash. He drove it for the handling and the power. He was a car guy. Car guy did not translate directly to materialistic guy. At all.

  Plus, she should never factor her mother’s world view into any of these equations. So scratch that too.

  Back again to one. One, Erik was foreign. Yep. That’d be the humdinger.

  All her years living across the globe, Lisette had firmly decided nowhere else was like home. Nowhere else but Colorado, her home base, with Aunt Corky and Uncle Charlie, could she anchor her heart or her life—not after being a nomad for so long. When she’d started college, she’d come straight to Boulder, determined never to live far from family again, especially if she ever got to have a family of her own. Family support meant everything—especially in the life of the child. It didn’t take a village to raise a child. It took a family, including extended family.

  So, back to Erik. The Icelandic Norse god. For all she knew, he meant to expand his business interests all over the world and never put down roots anywhere—or if he did, he’d never put them down in Colorado. Why would he? Answer? He wouldn’t.

  Right. One big reason to kick him off her possibilities list was all she needed. The fact he was a client or sometimes wore a gold necklace didn’t even register on the Richter scale compared to that doozy.

  The spring trees had finished budding, and the light green leaves unfurled on the tips of each branch. Birds might have even been singing, but Lisette couldn’t listen. Every step closer to the Koelbel Building that housed the Leeds School of Business put her closer to the real possibility that someone might recognize her. Awkward explanations could ensue. Her cover could be totally blown, and Erik could lose all his trust in her. Even worse than that, she could lose this fee and get stuck in phone answering purgatory from here on out.

  Why, oh why had she agreed to come to this lecture? Her legs got heavy and not just because of her nurse shoes.

  “So, Lisette. Now the McDonalds Monopoly game is over. Did you ever find Boardwalk? Or Marvin Gardens?”

  He remembered that? “I am going to win that grand prize one of these years, I’ll have you know. And if you’re not nice to me now, don’t expect me to share any of the wealth.”

  “Community Chest. You’re supposed to put it all in the Community Chest when you get a windfall like that.”

  Was he staring at her chest when he said that? She hunched—like she should’ve been doing all along. She should pretend she didn’t notice. “Windfall. That’s good business jargon.”

  “Let me get the door for you,” he said at the entrance of the Koelbel Building, at the precise moment that Dr. Killian, Lisette’s cooperating professor for her thesis, came out the door. The economics professor glanced at her, did a double take, and suddenly the toes of Lisette’s shoes became the most interesting thing in her universe. Curse words and pseudo curse words battled in her mind. Of all the people on campus to run into, Dr. Killian topped the list of the worst.

  “Nice day, isn’t it?” Killian always had a sunny personality, and Lisette had been lucky to get him as mentor and not one of the crabby guys in the department. “Don’t I know you from somewhere? Were you a student of mine?”

  Lisette just shook her head, not looking up. Her heart raced. This could spell the end of everything. The death knell of her dreams gonged long and loud. She bit her lip.

  After a second, Erik answered instead. “Uh, no. That is, I don’t think so. Is the Jim Rivershire lecture in here?” He deflected the arrow from her, acted as her shield. In this moment, she could have kissed Erik for it.

  Lisette pressed her way through the open door, not waiting to hear Dr. Killian’s answer, not wanting to risk another conversation or sighting. Her nurse shoes were made for walking, and that’s just what they did.

  Erik hustled to keep up with her. “You really want to get to that lecture,” he huffed.

  Lisette covered for her behavior. “I know it will be good. Jim Rivershire got a good sized inheritance, so he’s not a self-made man, but he turned a $200 million company into some serious money. Any chance to hear tips from a guy that’s financially successful is one we should run, not walk, to.” The magnate of alternative energy and owner of Rivershire Electric deserved her fastest pace. Right?

  “Maybe I�
��m wrong, but you seemed hesitant about coming this morning.”

  “I’m not hesitant now.” She took long, quick strides toward the auditorium, until—

  Oh, great. There was Dr. Anampatrasinth. She made the deadly mistake of making eye contact with none other than the second worst person she could have run into on campus today.

  “Oh, look! There’s the Econ Library.” Lisette darted to the right through an open door, dragging Erik by the arm as she went. “There’s a book in here I’ve been wondering about.” She ducked between the stacks, pulling Erik with her—which, she realized a second after she did it, was wholly unnecessary. Erik didn’t need to be in hiding.

  She was such an idiot.

  “Is something wrong, Lisette? You looked like that fellow from India might have some kind of plague.” Erik whispered, ducking down, playing along. What a sport. And he smelled like cedar and citrus today, blast him. She hated it when men smelled as good as they looked, especially when they looked as good as Erik Gunnarson. “Who is that man? You’re not afraid of him, are you? Because I could take him, I’m pretty sure.”

  “No, no. He’s just… No.”

  “Then what?”

  How was she supposed to say Dr. Anampatrasinth was her ex-boyfriend’s cooperating professor, and she’d spent hours with him trying to glean exactly what Justin Jerkface Fox needed to do to pass his thesis boards?

  “He’s a really good professor here in the business department. I just, uh, happen to not want to talk to him today.” And with good reason. Dr. A’s filter had really large holes, and he tended to say everything that sprang to mind. She didn’t know if it had to do with his Indian culture or just his personality, but she’d rather die than hear his assessment of her appearance while Erik was listening. He’d not only debunk her disguise, he’d tell Erik how Lisette used to look, and with his bright mind, likely dissect the reasons for it, then tell Erik she was crazy and to run. Fast.

  “That’s fine with me. I don’t mind being cozy between the bookshelves.”

  They were, actually, rather close to one another, close enough that in this harsh fluorescent lighting he could perhaps see the drawn-on lines of her make-under. She’d better get out of here, away from him and into the darkened lecture hall.

  “If you’re not careful, I will start thinking you invented the story about that teacher because you wanted to pull me into the library by you.” A twinkle danced in his eye.

  Oh, this trip was such a bad idea.

  The lecture went fine. Erik even took notes—Lisette peeked at them. Some were in Icelandic, some in English, and some in a shorthand she couldn’t decipher. He doodled, too. A whole lot of spheres, with shading to make them 3-D. Not a great artist by any means, but not a bad doodler. A person’s choice of doodles revealed something about his or her character. If he’d drawn arrows or ladders, it meant ambition, drive, goals. But spheres… What did spheres indicate? She’d have to look that up again. Unless… gasp! Spheres were for home and family and completed bliss.

  “Do you think these seats are comfortable?” he whispered, startling her. “I need to move my arm. Can I put it on your shoulder?”

  “What?” And before she could agree or protest, his left arm was across the back of her chair. Oh, how she longed to lean into it. He’d worn a short sleeve t-shirt today that showcased the triceps. The triceps got her every time.

  He went back to doodling, acting like there was nothing different, but when his arm slipped closer to her, Lisette couldn’t hear a word Mr. Rivershire said about startup capital or the SEC or anything. The blood pounded in her ears, pressing out sound.

  When the lecture finally ended, she surged to her feet, setting off a standing ovation from everyone there—even though she couldn’t have repeated a single thing he’d said in the last half hour. Her face burned. Curse Erik, getting her blood going.

  “I’m going to ask Rivershire some questions.”

  “Do you want me along to help you interpret?”

  “I want to try it on my own.”

  Sounded good. It gave Lisette a chance to let her blood pressure return to normal. She watched how Erik stood back while others made their comments to the presenters, smiling at them, saying hello to others as they waited their turn. He invited an older woman to go before him.

  Too bad he was such a good client. Too bad she needed this job so much.

  They left—without meeting any more professors or dashing into the Econ Library, though she did obliquely regret that. At the car, he got the door for her, and she slid in with as much grace as her tweed pencil skirt allowed.

  “Hey, you want to go to dinner now?”

  “I can’t. I’m making dinner tonight.”

  “For yourself? Or for your neighbors again?”

  Lisette hesitated. “Um, neighbors. They claim they like my cooking.”

  “I’m a terrific cook. Can I help?” Erik climbed into the driver’s seat. He gunned the engine, and the needle on the tachometer darted to 7000 before revving at a normal range. Lisette settled back in the bucket seat. Erik had the top up now, so she didn’t have to worry so much about losing her head of hair.

  “Can you cut up onions?” Lisette hated cutting onions.

  He wheeled them out of the parking lot at a pace that pulled Lisette’s torso backward. She resisted the urge to grab the door handle, and he made a beeline for her apartment.

  An hour later, the two of them stood in Lisette’s kitchen. Erik had a knife poised over a pile of perfectly diced onions on the cutting board. She stared in amazement.

  “Those are so professional. Wow!”

  “My mom liked me to do all the chopping for her. She makes good soup.”

  Lisette slid them into the skillet of browned butter and stir-fried them. “I love the taste of onions but hate how they make my hands smell.”

  “Oh, nice. So you don’t mind my hands smelling like onions.”

  She shrugged. “I guess not. Forgive me.” After stirring the frying onions a bit more she slid the strips of beef onto the skillet to brown and put the lid on. She came and sat beside him on a barstool and sipped her juice. “I’m glad you decided on the lecture today. I love CU Boulder campus.”

  “You went to school here, I thinks.” He sipped from his goblet. The juice looked pretty with the candlelight flickering behind it. Delicious smells of dinner permeated the air.

  “Not thinks. Think. Got my MBA. Three years ago.”

  “But you speak so many languages. You need a business degree too?”

  Should she confide in him? Probably not.

  “I thought it might please my father.” Here she went again, like Alice in Wonderland—giving herself such very good advice and very seldom following it. What the heck. He was a client, sure, but their six week session had only four days to go now. After that she’d never see him again. Maybe being nice, bonding, might win her a fat bonus check at the end. “He started out working for the government then aimed to build his own fortune through hard work and smart business acumen. He didn’t have a son, only me.”

  Erik nodded and swirled his juice in the goblet.

  “I just have one sister. She’s married, but cannot have children. My mother looks at me for her dreams.” He paused, and Lisette almost filled in the blank for him, grandchildren, but she didn’t say it aloud. His tone made it seem like he thought himself powerless to deliver on this dream. A little ache washed between the two of them, and Lisette remembered his doodle spheres.

  “My mother wants me to marry well, too,” Lisette said. “It’s a lot of pressure.”

  “Then she must be happy with your father, if she wants you to marry as well. They’re still together, yes?” So many couples split up these days, it wasn’t a safe assumption.

  “Yes and no.” Lisette ran a finger around the rim of the glass. “My father passed away seven years ago.”

  Erik set his glass down. “And now you want to make him proud by being good at your own business.” H
e was looking into her eyes, and it felt like he could see right down inside her. “You want to make a good life for your mom as well. Protect her.”

  Her polyester tent blouse suddenly felt itchy. Why did this guy see her so well? It was like he knew her—almost better than she knew herself. She tugged at her shirttail. It didn’t help. A competing mixture of comfort and discomfort battled in her whenever she was with him.

  She had to change the subject.

  “What about you? Your business? Did you get an education or just jump into working?” As long as he was gazing into her soul, she might as well pelt him with a few personal questions of her own.

  Erik rubbed his neck. Oh, good. Discomfort volleyed. Turnabout was fair play.

  “Right. Well, I started my business after high school. It was strong, and I wanted to expand. First, I went to the Continent and built a branch in Brussels, then one in Florence, then Constantinople. But I always wanted to come to the States.”

  “Why Colorado?” There. At last she asked her burning question of this foreign man.

  “Good university systems here with high technical knowledge base for the labor force. Terrible cost of living, of course, but so is Florence. How was that business jargon?”

  “Good.”

  The dinner finished cooking, and she poured it over a bed of brown rice. Together, she and Erik took it next door to the Prices’ house. Mrs. Price got that delighted look in her eye.

  “Oh, Lisette. You doll. You know just what we like. And who is this? The Erik Gunnarson we’ve heard so much about?”

  Traitor.

  “Hi, I’m Erik. I hope she’s told you good things.”

  “Some of them were embellishments, we’re sure. No man is that good.” A twinkle hit Mrs. Price’s eye as she gave Lisette’s shoulder a squeeze then took the plates of food and shut the door.