by Jill Blake
“At the Talbot Fellowship summit. I might make a convert of you yet.”
“Right.” She snorted. “Dream on.”
“Will you come?”
Her curiosity prickled. Know your enemy—wasn’t that the adage? Besides, it might give her a chance to spend some more time with her sister before heading back to L.A. Find out first-hand what Klara would be doing for the foreseeable future, and with whom.
“Okay,” she agreed, before she could change her mind. “Where is it?”
“I’ll send a car for you.”
And just like that, the chasm between them widened. Not that Ethan seemed aware of it. Maybe in his world, a chauffeured vehicle was something everyone had.
“Be ready by eight,” he said. “We’ll do brunch afterward.”
CHAPTER THREE
The summit took place in an imposing stone edifice that had originally housed the Federal Reserve Bank of San Francisco. Hundreds of chairs were set up theater-style in the central hall, facing a raised stage where workers appeared to be checking the video and sound system.
Dozens of fresh-faced teens mingled in the marble-floored lobby, chatting with people in business casual attire, whose name tags identified the companies they represented. Anna was surprised by how many of the names she recognized: leaders in computer technology, bioengineering, medical device manufacturing, and business. There were also members of the press, cameras and recording equipment in hand, moving from group to group.
Before she could find Klara amid the crowd, Ethan swept in from a recessed alcove near the entrance. “You came.”
“I said I would.”
“A woman of her word.” He smiled. “I like that.”
He led the way up a marble staircase to the mezzanine, which opened onto an outdoor balcony. Long tables covered in snowy linen showcased an impressive breakfast buffet. Most of the small tables scattered about the balcony were occupied, but Ethan found an empty one tucked behind a potted palm.
“Hungry?” He removed his jacket and draped it over the back of a chair.
“I thought the food came after the speeches. A reward for staying awake and clapping in all the right places.”
His laughter melted some of her apprehension. “Sounds like you’ve had some experience with tough crowds.”
“You could say that.” She set down her purse and followed him to the buffet. “Nothing like a bunch of undergraduates crammed into lecture hall first thing Monday morning.”
“We can have a real meal later,” he said. “But I could use some caffeine before the festivities start.”
Fortified with a couple cups of coffee and some light conversation, they returned to the main hall. Ethan pointed her toward an area of reserved seating near the front before disappearing into an anteroom with a woman whose name tag proclaimed her the CEO of the Talbot Foundation.
Instead of taking a seat, Anna meandered around the hall’s perimeter, keeping a sharp eye out for her sister. She finally found Klara near the back, engaged in an animated discussion with a lanky boy who didn’t look old enough to shave.
Klara stopped mid-sentence when she noticed her sister. “I’ll catch up with you later,” she told the boy, before pulling Anna to the side. “What are you doing here?”
“I was curious. Thought I’d look around, see what the summit was all about.”
Klara lowered her voice. “It’s an invitation only event.”
“I know,” Anna said. “Ethan invited me.”
“Ethan—you mean Ethan Talbot?” Klara’s eyes rounded. “No way.”
Anna wavered between annoyance and amusement. “Yes way. We had dinner last night.”
“You had dinner with Ethan Talbot?”
“Is there an echo here?”
“Sorry.” Klara slumped against the wall. “It’s just…weird, that’s all.”
“Why?”
“Well, for one thing, he’s a gazillionaire,” Klara said. “Like, cover of Forbes magazine rich. Plus he’s got a reputation. Ever since his divorce—”
“He was married?”
“Yeah. TMZ ran a story about it a while back. ‘Starter Wives’ or something like that.” She shrugged. “Anyway, he only dates supermodels and Hollywood stars these days. And if they can’t keep his attention….No offense, Anna, but you’re not exactly in his league.”
Anna stared at her sister, wishing she could refute Klara’s words. But deep down she knew Klara was right. Wasn’t that why she’d avoided looking him up online after returning to her hotel room last night?
The fact that she hadn’t Googled him back in L.A., when she’d realized that Klara was serious about this Talbot Fellowship business, was an uncharacteristic oversight. At the time, all Anna cared about was finding the right contact person—anyone in the program’s administrative office who could help her get Klara out. She wasn’t interested in the history of the Talbot Fellowship, or the background of its founder, or anything else that distracted her from her purpose.
She’d even managed to ignore the one and only photo of Ethan that she’d seen on the Talbot Fellowship’s website: a publicity shot of him on stage in an expensive-looking suit, his dark hair tousled, his lips quirked in a smile that probably had women tripping over themselves to catch his attention. Photoshopped, she remembered thinking.
After meeting him in person, she realized that the photo hadn’t done him justice. Yes, he was gorgeous enough to melt the panties off any red-blooded female, but it was more than that. He exuded charisma. In his presence, she repeatedly found herself caught up in flirtation, forgetting why she was there.
Back at the hotel, still high from the endorphins generated by that kiss, she resisted the urge to pick up her iPhone and remedy her previous lack of due diligence. What harm in keeping the fantasy alive just a little bit longer? In wanting to believe, if only for one night, that the real Ethan Talbot was as smart, thoughtful, and idealistic as the image he tried to portray?
And so she’d tossed and turned in bed, reliving the feeling of his arms around her, wondering what would have happened if she hadn’t pulled away.
Now she knew. What would have happened was exactly what had happened. Nothing. Because men like Ethan Talbot didn’t go for women like her. Or if they did, it was just a temporary aberration. The fact was, brains couldn’t compete with beauty. At least not outside of academia.
“You okay?” Klara asked.
Anna nodded, but before she could say anything, the screech of a microphone interrupted.
The woman who’d pulled Ethan away earlier stood at the podium. She was tall, blond, and gorgeous, dressed in an impeccable business suit that showcased her hourglass figure. Anna bet no one had ever told this woman she wasn’t in Ethan Talbot’s league.
“If everyone could please take a seat,” the woman said. “I’d like to start by welcoming you all to the Talbot Fellowship summit. We have some very exciting speakers lined up for you today. Before we get to that, however, let me introduce the man whose vision and generosity made this program possible. Ethan Talbot…”
~
“You disappeared,” Ethan said, catching up to her.
Anna’s fingers tightened on the shoulder strap of her bag. She’d almost made it to the exit. “Sorry. I sat with my sister. Nice speech, by the way.”
“Thanks.” Ethan glanced around the lobby, still filled with summit attendees heading for various break-out sessions. “So where is she? I’d like to meet her.”
“She went upstairs. Some app developer guru is leading a session in the Adriatic Room.”
“Ah. Well, maybe some other time.” His hand settled on the small of her back. “Sorry it took longer than I thought. Let’s get out of here while we still can.”
She glanced sideways at him. “You don’t need to stay?”
“No. Colette runs the show.” He steered them toward the Corinthian column-flanked doors leading outside. “I’m just here for window dressing.”
Anna sighed.
Colette—as in, Colette Broussard, the Foundation’s CEO. It wasn’t enough that the woman had an exotic name and looked like Barbie. Apparently she was good at her job, too.
Ethan paused at the bottom of the stairs to check his watch. “It’s almost noon. If you don’t mind walking a bit, I know a great place for lunch.”
Ever since her talk with Klara, she’d been debating whether she should just beg off. What was the point of spending another few hours with Ethan, when it was clear nothing could come of it?
Except that standing this close to him, with his gray eyes focused on her and the spicy scent of his cologne conjuring up memories of last night, she couldn’t find it in her to utter the words. She’d be leaving for L.A. soon enough. Why not enjoy the time she had here until then? Surely they could put aside their differences for the duration of a meal…and whatever else he had in mind for later.
“All right,” she said, accepting his proffered hand.
The restaurant turned out to be inside a private club. Everything about it, from the unobtrusive staff and clink of real silverware, to the gleaming hardwood floor and gilt-framed oil paintings, spoke of old money.
“How long are you in town?” he asked, after they were seated.
“Until tomorrow morning.” She noticed his gaze had dropped to her chest. She hunched her shoulders, wishing she’d thought to pack something more formal than her usual casual wear. Over the years, she’d accumulated a closet full of T-shirts emblazoned with the logos of various math and computer science conferences, as well as math-related quips and cartoons that her students periodically gifted her. Today’s shirt bore a quote from Paul Harvey: “If there is a 50-50 chance that something can go wrong, then 9 times out of 10 it will.”
Ethan’s lips lifted. “Can you stay longer?”
“Not really.”
“Why not?” he pressed. “Are you teaching summer session?”
“No.”
“Then stay.” Her heart skipped a beat, then settled down to a slightly faster than normal pace when he clarified, “At least through the end of the weekend. I have to give an interview later today, but other than that I’m free. I can show you San Francisco.”
“I’ve been here before,” she said. No need to mention that she’d spent most of that time cooped up indoors at various conferences or with her co-authors from Berkeley and Stanford, doing research. “Besides, I have a full schedule starting Monday morning.”
He raised a brow. “Doing what? You just said you’re not teaching.”
“I still have graduate students and post-docs working on various projects. Paper and grant proposal deadlines. Colleagues visiting from all over. Research doesn’t stop just because it’s summer.” It might not sound as enticing as what Ethan was offering, but it was still her real life. Ethan was nothing more than a fleeting distraction.
The waiter brought out their orders, refilled their glasses, and after making sure they didn’t need anything else, withdrew.
“What’s your interview about?” Anna said, after a few bites of lamb and Japanese eggplant seasoned with fenugreek.
He flashed his dimples. “The cult of higher education, and how to deprogram our youth.”
Anna choked and started coughing. Ethan leaned over to tap her on the back, but she waved him off, and after a deep gulp of water was able to reassure the waitstaff who rushed to her assistance that she was fine.
“Sorry,” Ethan said. “Why don’t we stick to more neutral topics?”
“Like what?” She dabbed her lips with a linen napkin. “Politics and religion?”
He laughed. “Let’s start with what you do in your spare time. When you’re not teaching or doing research.”
~
They spent the afternoon together, walking along the Embarcadero, then climbing the Filbert Street steps, and meandering through the lush hidden gardens along the way to Coit Tower. Periodically they stopped to admire the views, and then the murals inside the tower, before heading down the Greenwich steps on the east side of Telegraph Hill, toward Lombard Street.
Despite Anna’s claim that she had seen San Francisco before, he got the sense that she’d never taken the time to enjoy everything the city had to offer. Of course really exploring it all would take more than one day. He wished he’d been able to convince her to extend her stay, but she’d been adamant about returning to L.A. as scheduled. Which left tonight to work on changing her mind.
Despite their disagreements over the Talbot Fellowship, he felt more drawn to Anna than to any other woman since his divorce. She was smart, and had an off-beat sense of humor that made him laugh more in just a few hours than he had in the entire last month. Her enthusiasm and lack of pretension were a breath of fresh air. Through her unabashed appreciation of everything she saw—the hairpin turns of Lombard Street, the short cable car ride down Hyde Street to the waterfront, the panoramic views of the bay from Fisherman’s Wharf—Ethan felt as if he were renewing his own love affair with the city that had become his adoptive home over the last two decades.
And then there was her body. The way her T-shirt, with its silly slogan, accentuated her breasts. And the way those ancient jeans cupped her hips and ass. Oh, man. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to get through the entire day and evening without giving in to the temptation of sliding his hands along those mouth-watering curves.
It was with great reluctance that he finally said, “I have to get back to the summit.”
Anna’s smile dimmed a little. “Your interview?”
“Yes.” His palm rested on the small of her back. Nothing but a thin layer of cotton separated him from where he really wanted to be. He hooked his thumb beneath the hem of her shirt where it had ridden up from the low-rise waist of her jeans. Her bare skin was soft. Warm. He felt the fine tremor that ran through her, the soft catch of her breath. But she didn’t protest as his thumb stroked back and forth. Damn. He wished he’d never agreed to the stupid interview. Why had he let Colette talk him into it?
“It shouldn’t take long,” he said, dipping his head to inhale the faint scent of citrus and sunshine that had been teasing him all afternoon. “Come with me?”
She sighed. “Thanks, but I think I’ll pass.”
He couldn’t really blame her. Returning to the summit meant revisiting the one contentious topic they’d managed to avoid all afternoon. And while he appreciated Anna’s strong sense of conviction and admired her willingness to defend her position, he didn’t want to waste whatever time they had together on arguing.
“What about dinner? I can make reservations for seven-thirty or eight.” He fished out his cell phone with his free hand. “French-Italian okay with you?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not dressed for anything fancy.”
“Jorge will drive you back to your hotel. You’ll have plenty of time to change.”
“Into what?” she said, pulling away. “I wasn’t exactly expecting to spend a night on the town.”
Ah. Well, if that was her only objection…
He finished texting his driver and pocketed the phone before running a practiced eye over her figure. Not that he really needed to. After spending most of the day in her company, her image and proportions were imprinted on his brain. But he enjoyed the view, at least until she crossed her arms over her chest and frowned.
He stifled a grin. “I’ll send over a dress. And shoes.”
“What?”
“And matching lingerie,” he added, picturing her in nothing but a silk-and-lace confection. Something scant and easy to remove. His nostrils flared. Oh, yeah.
“No.” She shook her head. “Absolutely not.”
She took a step back, then another, nearly toppling off the curb. Ethan grabbed her arm just in time. Instead of letting go once she was out of danger, he drew her slowly against him. She glared at him. “You are not buying me clothes.”
“Don’t worry.” His lips grazed the curve of her ear. “I have good taste.”
His finger
s slid down her back, urging her closer. He nearly groaned at the feel of her stomach pressed against his groin. Too bad they were standing on a busy street, surrounded by a gaggle of tourists, the smell of salt and fish and motor oil in the air.
She drew a shuddering breath and pushed on his chest. “Ethan…”
“Yes?”
She pushed again and he forced himself to let go.
“Why don’t you call me when you’re done?” she said. “I’ll find a place that’s nice and casual and close by. My treat. Okay?”
He stared at her, waiting for the punch line. In the distance, he could hear the clanging of an approaching cable car. Seagulls screeched and circled overhead. Conversations in a dozen different languages swirled around them. And still Anna stood there, waiting for his response.
That’s when it dawned on him that she might be serious.
My treat.
When had a woman ever offered to buy him dinner? Or turned down the opportunity to acquire designer clothes at his expense?
A black Mercedes glided to a stop beside them. The driver got out, but Ethan waved him back. “I’ve got this.”
He ushered Anna into the back and slid in beside her. His hand found hers, and he laced their fingers together. Something odd and unfamiliar settled in his chest. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Anna sat at one end of the long mirrored bar, nursing a Caipirinha. The bartender had assured her it was the connoisseur’s cocktail of choice—a little tart, a little sweet, and very, very smooth. She’d never had one before, but this was a day of firsts.
Between glass shelves stocked with bottles of various shapes and colors, she could see her own wavering reflection. She fiddled with her hair, wondering if she should have put it up the way she usually did. It felt strange, brushing the bare skin between her shoulder blades every time she moved her head. Or maybe she just wasn’t used to having so much exposed skin. The flirty halter top dress was a last-minute impulse buy at a second hand shop down the street from her hotel. The clerk had talked her into getting a matching satin clutch and red heels that added five inches to her height. Though she questioned the wisdom of that particular purchase, the choice between stilettos and her usual flats was a no-brainer.
