Body Chemistry

by Dara Girard

  For work the next day, Brenda carefully selected a dark blue straight skirt hitting just above the knee, a fitted long-sleeved light gray shirt touched off with a red leather belt, a pair of three-inch dark blue sling back shoes, and a hand-painted pastel silk scarf draped around her shoulder. She wore her hair in a ponytail and put makeup on.

  Brenda looked at herself. She looked and felt fantastic. Life was good. She had the money to fund her project and her water heater had been fixed. She hadn’t heard from Dominic, but that was probably best, she’d been thinking about him more than she should. She needed the distance. It helped put everything into perspective.

  “Wow,” Chuck said when he saw her. Brenda stood at her bookshelf giving him a full view of her new look. He’d never seen her out of a lab coat. “What’s the occasion?”

  She shrugged and pushed a book back in place. “No special occasion. When I left Madeline’s funeral, I realized that I need to live now, not later.”

  Sonya burst into the room. “I heard about it, but I had to see it for myself and prove they weren’t lying.” Sonya approached Brenda as though afraid the image before her was an apparition that would disappear. “I can’t believe it. You’re gorgeous. Have you ever modeled before? I’m sure you could model now. Older models are in now. Not that I’m saying you’re old or anything.”

  “I understand.”

  “You don’t even look like you. You look like you should be standing on the edge of a mansion with a piña colada in one hand.”

  “Not quite.”

  “Or in a boardroom with a room full of men and a whip—I mean pointer—in one hand.”

  Brenda repressed a laugh. “Thank you.” Someone knocked. She glanced at Chuck, then at Sonya amazed: she’d never been so popular before. “Come in.”

  Kendell entered. “I have a gift for you—” He stopped and stared at her.

  “Yes?” she encouraged when he didn’t speak.

  He stepped back and looked at the sign on the door. “Sorry, I was looking for Dr. Everton.”

  “That would be me.”

  “Doesn’t she look great?” Sonya said.

  Kendell made a gurgling noise in his throat.

  Brenda folded her arms. “You have something for me?”

  He came out of his stupor. “Right. Yes, a gift card as a thank-you for your help.” He held it out as though offering her roses.

  She took it and rested it on her desk. “I was glad I could.”

  He flashed a teasing grin. “I’m sorry I can’t ask you for any more favors.”

  “Why not?”

  “My wife might get jealous.”

  Brenda raised her eyebrows in mock censure. “Careful, Dr. Baldwin.”

  “I saw her first,” Chuck said.

  “You’re married.”

  “So are you.”

  Brenda raised her hands and laughed, flattered by the attention. “That’s enough, you two. We came here to work and that’s what I plan to do.”

  But she didn’t get much of an opportunity. Her new look brought her a fleet of male admirers. She welcomed the attention, hoping her ideal man was hidden among them. In only one week she had gotten three offers of marriage from complete strangers, had her lunch and breakfast, which she usually ate in the cafeteria, paid for the entire week by an unknown admirer, and had two dozen roses delivered to her office by someone named Romeo.

  Being practical, Brenda did not follow up on any of them. Her ideal man would not be so uncreative or secretive. He would be bold and speak to her directly. He would not send her flowers anonymously or propose marriage, based solely on lust. Lust was fine, but not for the long term. It had gotten her in trouble before. She’d know him once she met him.

  A week later Chuck came to her office and asked, “Have you been able to secure the funding we will need?”

  Brenda hesitated, she hadn’t heard from Dominic but knew she could trust him. “Yes. I spoke to an individual willing to provide us with funding to complete the project.”

  “Who?”

  “He prefers to remain anonymous.” She didn’t know if he did, but since it was up to her, he would.

  “That’s great, I can’t wait to tell the team.”

  “Not just yet. I prefer to wait until I’ve signed the papers and the money is in the bank. By the way, as part of the funding, I added a new position so that you will have someone to help you. You have never complained about all the time you have put in and I am grateful for your dedication and commitment, but you have a family.

  “With an assistant, you will be able to spend more time with them and you’ll be in charge of hiring him or her.”

  He stared at her with hope. “Does this mean…?”

  “Yes, you’ve been promoted.”

  “I knew today was my lucky day. Now everything is perfect. There’s nothing to worry about.” He left.

  But he was wrong. Everything wasn’t perfect. Another week passed and she still hadn’t heard from Dominic. Brenda reminded herself that he wouldn’t let her down, but as the days passed she started to worry. What if he’d forgotten his promise? What if he didn’t realize how desperate she was? What about the illustrations she was supposed to do for him? Part of her had looked forward to the project. Had it just been a ploy? She hated being disappointed.

  Brenda thought about buying another package of cigarettes, then thought of something better: work. Work always kept her mind occupied. It had saved her sanity through her divorce and it would save her now. She wasn’t like Madeline, she assured herself. She wasn’t depressed and she’d never take her own life. But she wouldn’t be put on hold either, not for a man and definitely not for Dominic. Waiting patiently was never a strong trait of hers. She would work hard and when she worked hard she expected others to do the same.

  “I need the final report next week,” she told Chuck a few days later. “Will you be able to complete it by then?” She did not look up from her desk so she couldn’t see his nod and the odd way he looked at her. “Yes,” he said.

  “Can you please schedule a meeting for me with Dr. Ramsey for Thursday, and make an appointment with the scientific supply company in Tacoma? I’d like you and me to go and look for some new equipment.”

  “Brenda?” Chuck said.

  “Yes.”

  “We have a problem.”

  That caught her attention and she looked at him. “What is it?”

  “You.”

  She set her pen down. “Me?”

  “We’d all hoped that the new look meant you had a new view of life, but you’re working harder than before.”

  “No, I’m not,” she said, insulted. “I’m excited about all we’ve been able to accomplish.”

  Chuck stared at her, seeing through her lie. “I care about you. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You haven’t been yourself since Madeline’s death.”

  She took a deep breath before her temper got the better of her. “This has nothing to do with Madeline. So she died—that was her choice. I’m not like her. We were friends, not twins. I’m not prone to the same depressed disposition she was prone to. I wish people would leave me alone.”

  “Something’s bothering you and it’s affecting the project.”

  “I thought the project was progressing well.”

  “The project is, but we’re not. The team’s morale is low. You have been going non-stop and pushing us non-stop too. You want this and that, you are going here and there, you’ll burn out. But we will probably burn out before you do.”

  “Chuck—”

  “Take a week off.”

  Brenda stared at him, stunned. “What?”

  “Take the week off.”

  Brenda sat speechless. Who was he to talk to her like that? She was the boss and he was the man who crumbled in a crisis. She opened her mouth to protest, then realized the courage it took for him to stand up to her. She shrugged, resigned. She didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize the p
roject at this stage. “Fine.”

  His tone softened. “You need it.”

  Although she knew he cared, she felt betrayed and didn’t look at him when she left.

  Chapter 8

  She didn’t remember his name and she didn’t care anymore. Two days ago she had been certain she’d finally met Mr. Right, but now she knew she hadn’t. Brenda sat in Sam’s Coffee House staring at the man in front of her, trying not to fall asleep. She’d met him in a bookstore and he’d seemed interesting when he’d suggested they have coffee together. Unfortunately, the coffee wasn’t strong enough to keep her awake.

  Over the last few days she’d learned a lot about herself. She didn’t like the bar scene, concerts were too long, cocktails too shallow and the Internet too impersonal. At least at a bookstore she’d meet someone intelligent—or so she thought.

  What’s His Name was tall, clever, good looking in a clean cut sort of way, and about as exciting as dry wheat toast.

  Brenda had hoped he would be a nice diversion. She’d figured coffee could lead to lunch, which could lead to dinner, which could eventually lead to breakfast. Now she wished she could just lead him to the door. Methods of escape filled her imagination. She glanced around, wondering if she could find a familiar face and pretend that she had to speak with them.

  Her gaze fell on Franklin as he stood at the counter. She quickly glanced away with a tiny shiver. Anyone but him. However, after several minutes of desperately searching for an alternative, she knew she had no other choice and inwardly groaned, resigned. He’d have to be her rescuer. She watched him with his coffee and biscotti and saw him stuff his change into his jacket pocket. In a few seconds he would leave. This was her only chance.

  Brenda jumped up. “I’m sorry,” she said to her companion. “There’s someone I have to speak to.” She pointed to Franklin. “It’s important. Great to see you again. Talk to you soon.” She rushed over to Franklin. “Oh there you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

  Franklin looked at her, confused. “What?”

  To her horror What’s His Name followed her and said, “Do you really have to leave so soon? I could wait.”

  “No.” She slid her arm through Franklin’s, ignoring his startled look. “We have a big complicated project to discuss. I’m very sorry to leave you like this.”

  He smiled with understanding. “I’ll see you around.”

  Not if I’m hiding. “Yes.”

  She seized Franklin’s arm and dragged him toward the door. “Don’t ask questions,” she said in a low voice. “Just keep walking.” She raised her voice so the other man could hear. “Now what was it that we needed to discuss?”

  Franklin went along and followed her outside, then said, “What was that all about?”

  She released her grasp. “An error in judgment.”

  “Have you thought about my question?”

  “It’s still no.”

  The man came out. “I forgot to ask you for your phone number.”

  Brenda grabbed Franklin’s arm again and smiled. “Umm…I’m in the process of having it changed.”

  He handed her his card. “Perhaps we could get together sometime.”

  She glanced down at it, her mind searching for an excuse. At least she now remembered his name: Wallace.

  “Well…”

  “That’s not possible,” a cool, male voice cut in.

  They spun around. Dominic stood facing them.

  “Why not?” Wallace asked, affronted.

  Dominic approached them. He looked casual, but Brenda saw the darkness in his eyes. Fury lurked behind his calm demeanor and he looked very much the avenging outlaw. “Because she’s with me.”

  Wallace sent her an accusatory look. “You didn’t tell me you were seeing anyone.”

  “Because I’m not,” she said shooting Dominic a fierce glare. He had no right to come and claim her like this.

  Dominic hooked his fingers in the belt hooks of his jeans. “You are now.”

  “This is none of your business, Ayers,” Franklin said, putting a possessive hand on Brenda’s. She resisted the urge to yank it away.

  Dominic noticed the hands and his gaze darkened to onyx. “But it is.”

  Brenda shook her head, alarmed and exasperated. Things could get ugly if she wasn’t careful. “Dominic, you can’t come here and think you can—”

  He ignored her, his gaze fixed on Franklin. “Take your hand off her.”

  Franklin stroked her hand. “She doesn’t seem to mind where it is.”

  Dominic made a quick, dangerous move forward. Brenda stopped him with her free hand, he felt like solid rock. “This is ridiculous.” She pulled free from Franklin. “I’m going home.” She walked to her car.

  The three men followed.

  Wallace said, “You didn’t give me your number.”

  Franklin said, “I still want you to think things over.”

  Dominic cut in front of her. “I want to talk to you.”

  She halted and glared up at him. Four weeks of waiting to hear from him made her tone extra vitriolic. “I don’t want to talk to you.” She then turned to Franklin. “And I’ve told you my answer is no.” She finally looked at Wallace. “Thank you for the coffee, but I’ve decided to stop seeing men for a while.”

  Brenda then got in her car and drove off. It took her only a couple miles to realize she was being followed. In the dim light she couldn’t see the driver, but she knew it was Dominic. He was trying to intimidate her, but she wouldn’t let him. The best way to handle him was to ignore him.

  She pulled into her driveway and parked, then walked inside her house. She changed into something comfortable, ate some leftovers, then looked through the window to check her driveway. His car still sat there like a large, dark presence. She wrote some bills, watched a sitcom and then checked outside again. The car hadn’t moved. Fueled by anger, and knowing that he would stubbornly sit in the cold all night until she let him in, Brenda grabbed her jacket, marched up to the car and pounded on the window. It slowly rolled down.

  “Get in the house,” she ordered, then spun away.

  She could hear the grin in his voice when he said, “Thought you’d never ask.”

  Once inside Dominic casually removed his coat, then sat in the living room. “Nice place.”

  Brenda didn’t care for compliments. “What are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to make sure you made it home safely.”

  “You wanted to make sure I made it home alone.”

  He nodded. “That too.”

  She sat across from him and crossed her legs. She watched his gaze dip to her legs and she inwardly grinned. Go ahead and look at what you’ll never get. She had forgotten that she was wearing the sensual lounge wear Marci had selected.

  “You don’t need to wait to have a man to wear these,” Marci had said. “Whenever you’re stressed, or just want to enjoy and acknowledge your womanhood, wear it.” She was glad she had, although she hadn’t expected company, and didn’t mind him seeing it. She didn’t try to cover up how the front dipped low showing her cleavage or how it fell away from her thigh.

  But his gaze didn’t waver and soon became as intimate as a caress. Brenda decided to cover her thigh and fold her arms over her chest. “What do you want?”

  His smoldering gaze left her body and met her eyes. “So this is the greeting I get on my return? Your hand on Franklin’s arm while flirting with another man?”

  “My activities are none of your business.”

  “You know it’s my business because you know my intentions.”

  “Your intentions mean nothing to me.”

  “You don’t believe a man can change?”

  “A man can try, but whether he is successful or not will take time to figure out.”

  “So you see no hope for me?” he said in disbelief.

  “What’s changed? You’re just like before.”

  “I said I’d get back to you.”

 
“Four weeks later?” Her voice cracked. “You always kept me waiting. You always gave all your attention to other people and I got what was left over. I want a man who will give me all of his attention.”

  “You’d grow bored with a man who fawned all over you.”

  “I’d have fun finding out.”

  “Then divorce him when he’s not up to standard.”

  “We divorced each other. You did it with your travel and long nights. I did it with papers. I made it official so our marriage wasn’t a complete mockery.”

  “Our marriage was real,” he shouted. “You just didn’t think it was perfect enough. It didn’t fit your systematic analysis so it was a project you decided to abandon.”

  “Abandon? Half the time you didn’t even know I was there.”

  “I’ve admitted I wasn’t always there for you, but I’ve told you I’ve changed.”

  “How have you changed? A promise of seduction and then four weeks of nothing. Suddenly you show up again and expect me to be there for you.”

  “I didn’t realize you hated me this much,” he said with pain.

  “I don’t hate you,” she said, surprised he used such a harsh word.

  “Then what about the postcards? Didn’t they mean anything to you?”

  “What postcards?”

  “The ones I sent you every week. I also e-mailed the manuscript for the book so we could discuss which illustrations would work when I returned.”

  She sat back bewildered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t receive anything.”

  “But I—” He shook his head with frustration. “I don’t understand.”

  Brenda felt her anger die as she realized the magnitude of his words. “You sent me something every week?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did you say?”

  He shrugged and looked a little embarrassed. “They were just a few lines. Nothing interesting.”