by Jo Leigh
The heat of the late-afternoon sun would have been unbearable if not for the breeze. She hadn’t been to the ocean much. Especially not as an adult. That situation would change from this day forward. At least as long as Cam was in Queens and the weather held.
He stopped midkiss when sounds other than the waves and the gulls intruded into their secluded patch of sand. They’d not only been discovered, but invaded by a crowd of teenagers who had no problem walking within an inch of where they were sitting and kicking sand on their towels.
“Hey, watch it.” Cameron pulled her closer until the rowdy idiots passed them. “You okay?”
“Yeah. I think making out by the shore is now my favorite thing. Second favorite.”
Cam sat up, brushing sand off his chest. He sure as hell looked good in his trunks. When she’d first seen them, she’d had to hide a laugh. They had birds all over them in a pattern she’d have associated more with a kid than a man. He’d just shrugged and said most of his things were in storage.
He continued to be adorable in offbeat ways, and she wondered if his ease with himself was something inherent in his personality or was a result of being part of a big family. Naturally, she’d always assumed her paralyzing shyness as a child had to do with being an orphan. The nature vs. nurture questions were always more complex when there had been no nurturing at all.
“What’s that look?” he asked.
“Nothing. Just wondering how come some fabulous woman hasn’t already married you. You’re not exactly a spring chicken.”
“Hey. I resent that. I’m a spring rooster, and don’t you forget it.”
She clucked at him just as a couple jogged close enough to their towels to overhear. Weirdly, Molly wasn’t embarrassed by their laughter at all. Not while Cameron was grinning at her as if he’d won a prize. “Seriously,” she said. “You’re gorgeous and smart and you have an amazing sense of humor. There must’ve been someone.”
He sobered a bit as she sat up. They hadn’t brought chairs, just towels and sunscreen, so they settled cross-legged facing each other. “I had a girlfriend for a while. We met at MIT. She was working on her master’s thesis in mathematics while I was finishing up my PhD.”
“Why don’t you call yourself Dr. Crawford?”
“They do at work, but in Queens?” He snorted. “You don’t think I get enough grief from my sisters? Are you getting hungry? I think I might be getting hungry.”
“Dinner’s in a couple of hours, and stop changing the subject. What happened between you and the mathematician?”
“I could point out that you changed the— Never mind. We lived together for three years and then we split up. We shouldn’t have stuck it out so long. I knew from the beginning that she wasn’t the one, but the arrangement was comfortable for both of us.”
“How did you know she wasn’t the one?”
He shrugged. “The same way everyone knows. No magic. The chemistry wasn’t there.”
“Magic?” He couldn’t have surprised her more if he’d told her their star signs weren’t in alignment. “You’re a scientist. How on earth do you believe in the magic of love?”
“It’s because I’m a chemist.” He tapped his temple. “Love happens right here. It’s all chemistry. We’re attracted to people who fit the blueprints of our expectations and early coding. The best matches and the greater chance of healthy offspring are predictable according to scent reactions. There are different cues, if you know how to look for them, in sexual responses versus mating responses, especially in males.” He smiled at her stunned expression. “Okay, I admit it. I use the term magic as shorthand, but it’s still about the right chemicals firing in the right way when you meet the perfect person to be with forever.”
Molly was surprised her jaw didn’t drop to her lap. “That is the most bizarre combination of fact and romanticized nonsense I’ve ever heard in my life. There’s not just one person you meet and, boom, you’ve got a life partner forever. Who told you that, and how could you be a doctor and not see how ridiculous that is?”
He clearly didn’t appreciate her opinion, and she supposed she could have been more tactful, but seriously? “Okay, tell me this. What, exactly, made you decide you wanted to stick with me, even though you knew I was leaving?”
“Lots of things. Your personality. You make me laugh, and not just at you.”
“Very amusing.” He gestured for her to go on.
“You’re sexy, and you have strengths where I have weaknesses.”
“And I smell great, right?”
She burst out laughing. “You smell great?”
“I’m not kidding around. Everything you just said was a result of chemical interactions plus early conditioning. The only exception might be that I just happen to find it easy to talk to strangers, but I’m pretty sure there’s a neurological basis for that, as well.”
She stared at him. “Are you saying I’m...?” She couldn’t quite finish, certain she’d misunderstood.
He looked away. “You’ve come the closest.”
“I’m not sure how to take that.”
He met her gaze again, and while she could read the discomfort in his expression, he didn’t back down. “It’s not personal. It’s not. Again, it’s biology. Which is actually our saving grace. Because if we were a perfect match, we’d have to make some huge compromises. Can you see yourself living in Syracuse and still having the career you want?”
Molly swallowed so hard, she nearly choked. The day she’d returned his card she’d wondered that very thing. God, she should never have questioned his cockeyed belief. “Who says I’d be the one to have to compromise?” She purposely made it sound as if she was teasing.
“You’re right. It could also mean that I’d have to give up my work with Protean Pharmaceuticals, and that would be like cutting off an arm. My whole life I’ve wanted to make a difference in this world, so either way we’d be screwed.”
“For the record, I’m not sure whether I should be insulted,” she said, hoping to lighten things up, especially after hearing what his work meant to him.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. That’s why you didn’t want to have sex before you found out I was leaving. You knew, instinctively, that we were at risk.”
Her stomach somersaulted. What was that saying about the truth hurting? “You make it sound like love is a virus.”
“Maybe it is. Just not the kind we tend to think about.”
She pushed herself forward until she was balanced on her knees and they were inches away from a kiss. “You need to work on your dirty talk. Now, how about we go back to the room and take a shower together? See what kind of chemical fusion we can ignite.”
“That makes no sense, but points for trying.”
“I’m going to fall over in a moment if you don’t kiss me.”
He obliged.
But she fell anyway.
* * *
DESPITE MAKING LOVE before and after dinner, Cameron was wide-awake. The conversation on the beach kept poking at him. As did the trading-card mix-up. Molly lay beside him, so beautiful and peaceful in sleep.
He couldn’t get enough of her, and that was a problem. The fake-girlfriend thing had stopped being fake a while ago, but he hadn’t realized that his feelings for her meant there was a fundamental flaw in his thinking.
She’d shaken something loose in his beliefs. He’d held on to his idea of chemical attraction and finding the one like a dying man held on to a lifeline. For the past hour, he’d traced the notion back. It had formed before he’d moved to Syracuse. Before MIT. Hell, before high school.
Then it had hit him. The magic-of-love theory had been a bedtime story. Literally. How could he have forgotten that? He’d heard it from his father over and over. Cam remembered his dad crying, tears running down his che
eks even as he smiled.
Then he’d heard the same story from Ruby when she was in charge of helping him go to sleep.
The narrative had become part of his worldview, unexamined as a fact.
Cam reeled at his own stupidity. The irony that he had a PhD in chemistry seemed particularly cruel. Almost as brutal as the real truth of his situation with Molly.
16
DOING IT WITH the lights on had become a thing since their first night together in Long Island. Now that they were back in his apartment, they continued the practice. The best part was when their eyes met. She supposed that was why they always seemed to end up in the missionary position. She wished there was another name for it. Something that sounded more intimate.
“Christ, the way you look at me,” he said, moving inside her with steady, slow pressure. Her legs were wrapped around his hips, her hands sliding across his tanned back, their breath mingling with contented sighs.
“Tell me,” she said, lifting her chin as he shifted just enough for him to push in deeper.
“You look as if you don’t want to be anywhere else.”
“Of course I don’t.”
Cam shook his head, a quick correction. “No. I meant like you don’t want to be anywhere else. Or with anyone else.” He stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Do me a favor? Don’t close your eyes.”
She smiled, understanding what he wanted, although she wasn’t sure she could deliver. “I’ll do my best.”
He pulled out again, almost all the way, but this time when he reentered her, he went in hard.
Her gasp was loud enough that it carried over the noise from the pub’s jukebox below them. His attention, his desire and, frankly, his stamina had been astonishing. After the long drive home this afternoon she’d have thought he’d want to get some rest, but no. He’d wanted her, and she’d wanted him right back.
Tomorrow they’d return to the real world and she’d be busier than ever. So tonight they would connect in every way possible. Tightening her grip around him as the stirrings began low and deep inside her, all her muscles tensed in preparation. He clearly felt her because he drove into her so hard, the bed bounced against the wall. Her world narrowed to the space they shared, his eyes bright with fire even as she struggled to keep hers from closing.
When she came, she nearly jerked out of his grasp, but he held her tight, saying her name over and over. But a moment later, when he came, it didn’t matter that her eyes were open, because his were squeezed shut.
He took his first real breath and the lights went out. So did the vibrations from downstairs. His fridge and AC stopped humming until all that could be heard were their panting breaths. The power was out.
“It’ll probably come back on in a minute,” Cam said.
She didn’t care about the lights, but the air-conditioning was another matter. Even with it blasting in his apartment, they were both sweating, especially where they’d rubbed together.
He flopped on his back. Now that she had a few of her wits about her, she realized how profound the darkness was. The moon was a sliver and wouldn’t have been able to fight through the clouds.
“Wonder if it’s just the block?” she asked.
“If it lasts ten minutes, I’ll go down. Help with crowd control.”
“I thought you had a generator?”
“For the brewery, not the bar. We’ve got a lot of flashlights and candles, though. It’ll be fun for a while yet, but then, who knows. Things could get tricky.”
She nodded, knowing he couldn’t see. “We should probably go help. Or at least put some clothes on.”
“What? Clothes?” Cam pulled her in close, kissed her but missed the mark, landing more on the side of her nose than her lips. “I never said anything about clothes.”
“Hush, you. I assume you have supplies up here?”
“Oh, all right,” he said. “If we must. I’ll get the flashlights. You sit tight.”
* * *
INSIDE, THE BAR was already a swamp. They kept the place cool, sure, but a lot of that came from all the overhead circular fans, which weren’t working. Cam made sure Molly was right in front of him as they let the flashlight guide them to the service bar. Everything felt and looked weird in the dark. The emergency lights were on, showing the exits, the bathrooms, the service area. Most tables had already been provided with lanterns, although Cam knew they didn’t have enough for all of them.
Molly sidled up next to him, her arm around his waist. “Are people going to walk out on their bills?”
“Yep.”
“That’s not very nice.”
“Nope, it’s not. It won’t kill us, and it’s not going to be that many. The locals won’t. Especially because we do keep the taps running. The real mess is going to be in the kitchen. We have to put as much of the food in the big fridge as we can, as quickly as possible. If this blackout goes on for a long time, we could lose it all.”
“Ouch,” she said. “That’s got to hurt.”
“There’s insurance, but that’s mostly to protect the brewery. First, though, I’m going to see if they need me in the kitchen. Then I’ll come back and help out here.”
They’d reached the bar, where he spotted his dad, Amber and—oh, yeah, Ruby. His oldest sister was here for a conference, and she hadn’t met Molly yet. The whole crew wore glow-in-the-dark necklaces, which helped a great deal.
“Molly,” Amber said, her smile appearing truly evil with the green glow coming up from around her neck. “Didn’t know you were here, but we could sure use the help if you’re up for it.”
“Okay,” she said and looked at Cam.
He kissed her. “You don’t have to. You can just stick with me until this thing’s over.”
“No, it’s all right,” she said, her voice lowered like his. “But thanks.”
Cam was hesitant to leave. This situation was the kind of thing Molly hated, and he was abandoning her. He’d just have to take care of things quickly. For all he knew, the kitchen staff might not even need him. “I’ll be back soon.”
“Don’t worry, bro,” Amber said. “We’ll be fine.”
The last he saw of Molly, she was putting a yellow necklace on while Amber held out a flashlight. Molly nodded as Amber talked, and it was all he could do not to push people out of the way so he could reach the kitchen.
He needn’t have worried. Karla, the pub’s head cook, was handling things like the pro she was. Most of the food was already in the fridge, and the extra thermometers were in plain sight. The ovens and stove were shut down. Everything looked to be in order.
He should go and see about the brewery, though.
“Don’t worry about it,” Karla said just as he reached the door. “Eric’s got everything locked up tight. He called the power company, and it’s going to be a long night. A big section of Queens is down. They don’t expect the power to be up again until tomorrow morning.”
“Well, damn. That’s not good.”
He could see her silhouette but not her expression, although he doubted she would look anything but serene. Karla was in her forties, had four kids, and her husband had left her with enough gambling debts to make anyone insane. She’d turned to yoga, meditation and cooking. “It’ll all be fine as long as no one tries to get behind the wheel drunk,” Karla said.
“I’m on it. Thanks.”
He grabbed himself a glow necklace on his way back to the taproom—yellow, like Molly’s. She wasn’t standing behind the bar. It took him a few minutes to find her out among the tables. She had a pitcher in one hand and a flashlight in the other.
A bump to his shoulder made him turn. “I was hoping to meet your girl, and now it’s too busy for me to even have a quick chat. Is she staying for the night?”
It was Ruby. “Hey,
Cam,” he said, his voice high and mocking. “Long time no see. How are you?”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re a sight for sore eyes. Now tell me about the love of your life. I want details.”
“She’s not the love of my life,” he said.
“That’s not what I’ve been hearing.”
“You believe what you hear in this family, you deserve the consequences. I like her. A lot. But the most important thing in her life is her career. And since the same goes for me, things are just perfect between us.”
Dammit. The moment the words were spoken, he wanted to call them back. He needed Ruby to believe that he and Molly had a future.
“Well, that’s a crock of bull,” Ruby said. “You’re not that complex, Cam. Sorry. Wish you were, but we all know you want to get married, have kids. The puzzle is how you’ve held out for so long.”
“How are the taps doing?” he asked, not willing to go there.
“You’re no fun anymore. Fine. The lager is getting gassy. I’d shut her down if I were you. Maybe get some of these freeloaders to go home.”
“I’m gonna go check on Molly, so if you could take care of the lager, I’d appreciate it.”
Cameron headed through the crowd, and it wasn’t an easy trip. Plenty of locals meant he was stopped at virtually every table. Not many people had heard the news about how big the outage was, so he left a trail of bitching and moaning behind him. Unfortunately, a lot of folks were going to stay until there was no more draft available, and that was when he and his dad would have to stand guard at the doors, making sure that no one did anything stupid.
Finally, he reached Molly. He stood back, watching and listening as she finished pouring the last of her pitcher into a glass, all the while telling the patrons about the difference between the fructose sugars in wine versus the maltose sugars in beer and how they both fed the yeast that turned into alcohol.
