by Jill Blake
He shook his head. “It’s not that simple.”
“Why not?”
His frown deepened.
“Right,” she said. “Then I guess we’ve reached a stalemate. Because it’s not that simple for me either. I’m part of the establishment here, Ethan. I have grad students and post-docs who rely on me for funding. I sit on half a dozen different committees, and my voice here counts. Especially when it comes to advocating for women who might not otherwise choose math or computer science as a career.”
Ethan studied her for several long moments, tapping a finger on the table, until she wanted to grab his hand and say Stop. But then she’d be touching him, and she wasn’t sure she could do that and still maintain her equilibrium.
She got up and started clearing the table. At least the movement gave her something productive to do. Gathering dirty dishes, rinsing them off, loading the dishwasher—these were things she could control. Better to focus on that, and ignore the ephemeral hope that had flared so briefly at Ethan’s mention of a joint future.
“Anna.”
She jerked. The glass she was holding nearly slipped from her hand. “What?”
He reached around her and shut off the water. In the sudden silence, she became hyperaware of his presence behind her. The heat of his body, the sound of his breathing. The subtle change in his stance that signaled a shift from anger to a different kind of tension.
“Why don’t we table this discussion for now?” he said.
He rescued the glass from her white-knuckle grip and set it down in the sink, then wrapped his arms around her, palm spread over her stomach, pelvis pressing into the curve of her bottom. Around Ethan, desire was never far from the surface. It welled up now, like steam rising in a kettle.
His lips brushed her temple. “I don’t know about you,” he said. “But I’ve gone too long without a vacation. I’m thinking warm water, white sand, and as few clothes as possible. What do you say?”
“Mm.” She closed her eyes and deliberately pushed aside her resentment.
“A week.” His thumb slipped beneath the waist of her jeans, stroking the soft skin below her belly button before venturing higher, easing up the hem of her T-shirt. “Just you and me.”
The front clasp of her bra gave way and she gripped the edge of the sink. His hand closed over her breast, kneading, squeezing, teasing the nipple into a stiff peak. She shivered.
His other hand released the button of her jeans and slid the zipper down, giving him access to the dampening fabric between her legs.
“Oh.” She could barely think. Forget stringing together a coherent sentence.
And then his fingers found a spot that made her gasp, and all she could do was hang on to the granite in front of her as he played with her, pushing her higher and higher, until she was flying.
He caught her as she sagged against him.
“Okay?” he murmured.
Her eyes fluttered open. Okay…what? She’d lost track of the conversation, and at the moment, with Ethan’s arms wrapped around her from behind, his erection pressing insistently against her, the last thing she wanted to do was talk. She reached back, exploring the shape of him through the denim. He hissed and grabbed her wrist, stilling the movement.
“I need a minute,” he said, nudging her toward the counter again. And then she heard the slide of his zipper and the crinkle of a condom wrapper, and his hands returned, this time tugging the jeans from her hips.
His lips brushed her lower back, startling a soft “Oh!” out her. He kissed his way up her spine, pushing the shirt up as he went, until she moved restlessly against him. That seemed to be just the signal he was waiting for. He swept the shirt off completely and settled his hands on her hips.
“Lean forward,” he said, using his knee to nudge her legs farther apart. His fingers tightened, tilting her pelvis, just a little, just enough for him to slowly penetrate her from behind, her entrance slick from her previous climax.
She clung to the counter as the pace and force of each stroke increased, stretching her, filling her, until she didn’t think she could take any more, except that she could, because he continued to pound into her as her muscles quivered and her lungs screamed for air and the tension inside her built and built and finally snapped, like a live wire shooting off sparks in an electrical storm.
Ethan shuddered and groaned, then stilled. She could feel the hammering of his heart against her back, the hot puffs of breath against her neck.
His fingers loosened their grip and he withdrew. “You okay?”
She stretched and smiled. “Mm-hm. You?”
“Yes. I’m sorry.” He traced a gentle finger down her hip. “You’ll have bruises.”
She followed his gaze, saw the faint marks on her skin. “It’s okay.”
“I didn’t mean to be rough.”
She turned and twined her fingers with his, then rose on her toes and kissed his jaw. “You can make it up to me,” she said. “Come to bed.”
“Anna.”
She paused. “Yes?”
“About that vacation…”
“Sure,” she agreed, so glad that he wasn’t returning to anything more serious that she didn’t bother arguing. She could afford a little bit of time off. A missed faculty meeting in the middle of summer shouldn’t have too many repercussions. And her grad students could take care of themselves for a few days. “Whatever you want.”
“Really?” He swept her up and carried her out of the kitchen, down the hall. “You have a passport?”
“Wait. Where are we going?”
“To the bedroom,” he said, dimples flashing.
“I meant, on vacation.”
“It’s a surprise.”
She hit his shoulder, then yelped when he pretended to drop her. “Seriously. I need to at least know what to pack.”
“A bathing suit,” he said, tossing her lightly onto the bed. “And maybe those high heels—the red ones.”
Later, lying in his arms as he slept, Anna wondered how they’d gone from discussing the paparazzi nightmare, to arguing about a future together, to this.
A tropical escape wouldn’t solve their underlying problems. Those would still be waiting for them on their return.
But the prospect of spending a week with Ethan, away from all the stresses of everyday life, was certainly tempting. Like a last decadent dessert before the onset of famine.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
In the end, passports proved unnecessary.
Margaret, Ethan’s ever-efficient assistant, made all the arrangements. First class tickets to Hawaii’s Big Island. A secluded rental villa on the North Kona Coast. A car and driver at their disposal. A personal chef and unobtrusive staff who disappeared discreetly when they weren’t needed. And, most importantly, a full week’s reprieve from the business of making money: all calls, meetings, and decisions that weren’t urgent were delegated or deferred.
They spent the first few days holed up in their private paradise. The bedroom boasted two walls of sliding glass doors, with a view of the ocean on one side and a shaded lanai on the other. In the morning, while Anna caught up on sleep beneath a slowly-rotating ceiling fan, Ethan went diving in the crystal waters of Honokahau and Kaiwi Point. Back at the villa, they enjoyed lazy afternoons in bed or in a gently swaying hammock shaded by palm trees, and evening walks along the beach.
When they did finally venture out together, Ethan was delighted to discover than Anna had a playful, uninhibited side. She was the one who enticed him into skinny dipping by moonlight, and coaxed him into hiking through the rain forest on the rim of the Kīlauea Iki volcano to the floor of the lava lake, past vents that were still steaming.
Halfway through the week, they took a private helicopter tour of the island. To his jaded eye, one volcano looked like any other. And the waterfalls they passed didn’t compare with the majestic flow of the Zambezi River into Victoria Falls, or the hundreds of cascades that formed Argentina’s Iguazu Falls. But Anna
’s excitement was palpable and infectious. Ethan found himself tuning out their pilot/guide’s voice, focusing instead on Anna and the sights that caught her attention.
He flashed back to their first day together, when they’d wandered San Francisco. Just as she had then, Anna breathed new life into an experience that would otherwise have seemed mundane.
Would she always be this way, or would she eventually become inured to the beauty of the world around her? It didn’t seem possible. Her passion for math and education was so deeply ingrained that he couldn’t imagine her without it. And these were things that were as much a part of her everyday life as toothpaste and coffee.
Which meant that life with Anna would never be dull.
“Oh my God,” she said, grabbing his hand and pointing out the window. “Will you look at that?”
He smiled and followed her finger.
~
Ethan’s cell phone rang at six in the morning, barely two hours after he and Anna had finally collapsed in bed. Who knew that sex in a hammock could be so amazing? He’d gladly have stayed there all night, but the combination of their physical exertions and warmer than normal temperatures had finally driven them indoors.
Careful not to disturb Anna, he took the call in the living room. His parents were both on the line.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“That’s what I want to know,” his father said. “You haven’t been checking your email.”
“I’m on vacation, Dad.”
“You always check your email,” his father said.
“Yeah, well, not this time. Can you hang on a sec?” He retrieved a pair of shorts from the floor beside the couch and pulled them on. Before heading out to the hammock last night, they’d given the couch a good workout. He picked up the phone and grinned, remembering. “So, Dad, was there something specific you wanted?”
“Your mother has a question for you.”
“Hi, Mom.” Ethan dropped onto the couch and propped his feet up on the coffee table. “What’s going on?”
“Ethan, sweetie, do you remember my friend Frances? We went to med school together.” She barely paused for an answer. “Anyway, her daughter is moving to San Francisco.”
Oh, no. No way. His mother wouldn’t really do this to him…would she?
Apparently she would. Ethan groaned and closed his eyes as his mom continued, “She’s a lovely person. Does something with computers. I’m sure you’ll like her.”
“Mom—”
His father interrupted. “You don’t have to marry the girl, Ethan. But it wouldn’t hurt to just meet her. Show her around. Your mother emailed you the contact information.”
The sudden concern over his failure to check email now made sense. Ethan rubbed his temple. “Dad—”
“Before you say anything,” his father cut in again, “I want to remind you of our last conversation on the topic.”
“I know, Dad. You’ll be glad to hear that I took it to heart.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” He glanced toward the bedroom and lowered his voice. “I met someone. Her name is Anna Lazarev. We’re in Hawaii together.”
Dead silence met his announcement.
He sighed. “I know you mean well, guys. But as you can see, I’m perfectly capable of handling my own love life.”
“Of course you are, sweetie,” his mom said, recovering. “Some of my patients mentioned you were making headlines again. But given your history with the tabloids…”
“We figured it was probably a crock,” his father said.
“The things they make up,” his mom added. “It’s a wonder those magazines don’t get sued more often. I told your father just the other day—I said, Daniel, if there’s something going on that’s important enough for us to know, Ethan will tell us himself. Didn’t I say that, honey?”
“You did,” his father confirmed. “So, Ethan, you think this one’ll stick?”
“Daniel!”
“What? It’s a legitimate question, Laura. The boy goes through women like he’s flipping through cable channels. You barely have time to figure out what’s happening and he’s already clicking to the next one.”
“Hello,” Ethan said. “I’m still here.”
“Don’t mind your father, sweetie. You know he means well. We just want you to be happy.”
“I am, Mom. Anna is…” He fumbled for words that would capture all that he thought and felt about this woman who’d claimed his attention from the start, fired his libido, challenged his beliefs, and made his world a brighter, richer place. In the end, he said simply, “She’s a keeper.”
“Good,” his father said. “What does she do?”
“She’s a professor. Teaches math at UCLA.”
“That sounds lovely,” his mom said.
His father laughed. “I like her already. When do we get to meet her?”
“I don’t know.” Ethan was beginning to wish he hadn’t picked up the phone. It was one thing to face a parental inquisition, but quite another to do so on barely two hours of sleep and no caffeine to speak of. “Anna hasn’t exactly agreed to anything beyond this week.”
“What does that mean?”
“We’ve had a difference of opinion on a few issues. Like where we plan to live.” Ethan leaned his head against the back of the sofa and stared at the ceiling. “Anna doesn’t want to leave L.A.”
“Sounds like you need to apply some of that Talbot charm, son.”
“It’s not that simple, Dad. But I’m working on it.”
A soft sound from the doorway alerted him to Anna’s presence. She wore one of his Oxford shirts, secured with a single button just above her navel. The hem hit her mid-thigh, covering more than the mini-skirt he’d bought her the day before, but when she moved, it was clear that she hadn’t bothered with any undergarments.
He bid his parents a hasty goodbye and got up. “Morning.”
She smiled. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“No worries,” he said. “It was just my parents.”
“Oh.” She tucked a strand of sleep-tousled hair behind her ear. Ethan swallowed, recalling the texture of those strands dragging across his chest and down his abs last night as her clever mouth kept him hovering on the edge of coming for longer than he thought possible. She pursed those lips now. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah.” He reached her in three strides. Her skin was warm, supple. He slid his hands beneath the shirt, cupping her ass and bringing her flush against him. “They want to meet you.”
“Why?”
“Well, naturally—” he kissed the corner of her mouth “—they want to make sure—” his next kiss landed on her chin “—that the woman who captured their son’s heart—” another kiss, this time on her neck “—feels the same about him.”
She reared back. “What?”
He lifted his head. “Surely that’s not a surprise.”
“Well, yes. I mean, you didn’t exactly say that before…”
He hadn’t? What did she think that whole discussion about living together was all about? Sure, he’d backed off, but not because he’d changed his mind. He was still hoping to talk her around to his point of view. But pushing the argument when her back was already up was not likely to garner him any points, nor achieve his objectives. That’s why he’d suggested taking a week off and spending it together, in this exotic bolt-hole, absent all the stresses of work and publicity.
“Anna.” He loosened his hold without fully letting go. When a man laid his heart on the line like Ethan just had, he was really hoping for some reciprocity.
But with Anna, smart and ambitious apparently went hand-in-hand with stubborn and unpredictable. Thank God he had a healthy ego.
She frowned. “The issues haven’t changed, Ethan.”
“Maybe not,” he sighed. “But I love you and you love me…” He paused, but she remained silent. At least she didn’t deny it. “The rest is all details. We’ll figure it out.”
<
br /> CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The return to Los Angeles felt anti-climactic.
Ethan left for San Francisco, while Anna buried herself in work.
In her absence, a dozen different issues had cropped up, each of which required careful political maneuvering. She welcomed the distraction. Ethan’s declaration of intent had thrown her for a loop, and the person she usually turned to for advice—Becca—was too preoccupied by her own relationship crisis to be of much help.
Anna sighed, wishing she still had her parents’ wisdom to draw on. What would they have advised in a situation where emotions defied logic? Where the safe choice meant preserving her career, possibly at the expense of personal happiness—while taking a risk gave her a shot at achieving both, but without any guarantees?
Dwelling on the situation too much gave her a headache. Her lack of sleep didn’t help. Who knew that after a full week in Ethan’s company, she’d have such a hard time returning to her own empty bed? How was she supposed to make a decision, when she couldn’t even think straight from exhaustion, thanks to night after night of tossing and turning?
Maybe that’s why she didn’t immediately react when she heard the shouting. It was Friday afternoon. She’d just left a faculty meeting, and was heading back to her office, eyes focused on her iPhone, scrolling through the endless email messages that cluttered her inbox.
Several loud pops, like firecrackers exploding, startled her enough to look up. Some fifteen feet ahead, a door flew open, and students stumbled out, screaming.
Chaos ensued. Glass shattered. Running feet echoed down the hall.
“He’s got a gun!” someone yelled.
A man barreled into Anna, knocking her against the wall. Her ankle twisted, and sharp pain shot up her leg. She went down, losing her grip on the phone. It crashed to the floor a second before she did, the screen splintering on impact. She barely managed to scramble out of the way as more people streamed past.
