Love Lessons

by Gina Wilkins

  Oh, yeah, Mike remembered. He had left that party with her number in his pocket and an ache that a cold shower had barely taken the edge off. Funny how he could look at her now and feel nothing. Zip. Nada.

  He nodded to her and turned his attention back to his companions. “Are there any more potato skins?”

  “Why don’t you ask them over?” Bob suggested, pushing a hand through his shaggy red hair in a futile effort to tame it. “You can have Jessica and I’ll take the brunette.”

  “Hey!” Brandon protested. “What about me?”

  “Didn’t I let you have the cheerleader at Laurie’s Halloween party?” Bob returned. “It’s my turn, dude.”

  “That doesn’t count,” Brandon argued. “That didn’t last past the second dance.”

  “Not my problem.”

  “Let me solve this one,” Mike suggested. “You guys can have them both. Decide between you who hits on which one. You’re both going to strike out, of course, but I guess there’s no harm in taking a shot.”

  Both of his friends turned to stare at him. “Are you kidding me?” Bob asked. “It’s you she’s looking at, man.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not interested tonight.”

  Complete silence met that announcement. He glanced up defensively. “What? I told you I’ve got to study tonight.”

  “You’re going back to your apartment—alone—to do homework, when Jessica Terry is sitting there practically waving you over?” Brandon asked in disbelief.

  “It’s not homework. I’ve got tests tomorrow. Two of them.”

  “Big deal. You’ll either pass or you won’t. This is Jessica-freakin’-Terry,” Bob grumbled. “And she’s with a friend. A smoking-hot friend.”

  “No, I can’t. Not tonight. I told you when you called that I have to leave early.” And he had already missed that goal, he thought with a frowning glance at his watch. It was almost nine o’clock already.

  “This isn’t like you, Mike,” Brandon said. “What’s going on?”

  Mike’s cell phone rang before he could reply. He pulled it out of his pocket, glanced at the caller ID readout, and suppressed a wince. “Hi,” he said, holding the phone to his ear and turning slightly away from his companions.

  “Mike? I can hardly hear you,” Catherine said. “You asked me to call you when I got home from work. I just got in.”

  He had forgotten about making that request. At the time, he’d expected to be alone in his apartment with his textbooks when she called. He had thought chatting with her would provide a pleasant and well-deserved break. “How did your experiment go?”

  “Not particularly well. Some of the plates were contaminated. Do you have your radio turned up that loud or are you—”

  “Hi, Mike. I’ve been trying to get your attention over there,” Jessica Terry said with a little pout, leaning over the table to give him an eyeful of creamy cleavage. “Aren’t you even going to say hi?”

  If a cell phone could suddenly turn cold in one’s hand, Mike’s did at that moment. “Apparently, I’ve called at a bad time,” Catherine said.

  “No,” he said, motioning for Bob and Brandon to run interference with Jessica. “I was just having a quick drink with Bob and Brandon.”

  “I’m sorry, Mike, I can’t really hear you. I’ll let you get back to your friends. Good luck on your tests tomorrow.”

  She disconnected without giving him a chance to respond.

  “Damn it,” he said, snapping the phone shut and shoving it into his pocket. Throwing some money on the table, he pushed his chair back from the table. “I’ve got to go, guys. Jessica, it was nice to see you again.”

  Jessica looked a bit shocked that he was brushing her off so brusquely—and considering their previous encounter, he supposed he didn’t blame her. Bob and Brandon were scowling.

  “Boy,” Brandon muttered. “She’s got you jumping when she snaps her fingers, doesn’t she? I never thought I’d see that.”

  “Look, I’ve just got to study, okay?” Mike repeated wearily. “I’ll call you guys later.”

  He knew they weren’t satisfied with his explanation. He didn’t like leaving them annoyed with him, even though he was defensively aware that he was in the right this time. He had told them from the beginning that he couldn’t stay long.

  He was also troubled by his phone conversation with Catherine. He shouldn’t be feeling this guilty. Yeah, he had asked her to call him, but he hadn’t promised to stay at home all night waiting for the phone to ring. And, okay, he had told her he would be studying, but he hadn’t said he wouldn’t take a break for a while. He hadn’t known then that his friends would call and ask him to join them for a drink.

  As for Jessica, it wasn’t as if he had done any more than nod at her. And even if he had done more, he and Catherine didn’t have any sort of exclusive arrangement. They were both free to see other people—though the thought of her doing so made his knuckles go white around the steering wheel.

  This was getting way more difficult than he had anticipated. If he had any sense at all, he would get out before it became even more complicated.

  Catherine was still fuming some time after she had abruptly hung up on Mike.

  “It isn’t as if I care if he’s out drinking and flirting,” she assured Norman as she paced restlessly through her apartment with her pet following curiously at her heels. “I certainly don’t tell him where he can go or what he can do when he isn’t with me.”

  Norman meowed.

  “Exactly,” she agreed emphatically. “I wasn’t trying to check up on him. I didn’t particularly care if he was home or not. I was actually too tired to talk on the phone, anyway. But he asked me to call him when I got home.”

  Not to mention that he had told her flat-out that he would be studying for two tests tomorrow. Maybe he had fully intended to follow that itinerary and had joined his friends on an impulse. He certainly had the right to do so.

  “It’s no skin off my nose if he fails one or both of his tests,” she told Norman loftily.

  He made a sound that might have expressed skepticism of her claim of disinterest.

  “And I don’t care how many people are sitting in his lap right now trying to get his attention,” she added, growing indignant all over again.

  She caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror, and the sight brought her up short. What was she doing, pacing around and ranting like a mad woman? Her eyes were glinting, her cheeks were flushed, her teeth were all but bared in anger.

  Shoulders sagging, she pushed her hands through her hair and ordered herself to calm down. This was ridiculous. It really wasn’t any of her business where Mike was or what he was doing right now. They certainly had no exclusive arrangement, nor did either of them want that sort of commitment.

  They had just been having fun. A no-strings fling. Weren’t those the exact words she had used to reassure Julia that she wasn’t getting too involved with Mike? That she wasn’t going to end up hurting and emotionally bruised when it ended?

  Her doorbell rang, and she stiffened again. She was pretty certain she knew who was at her door at this late hour. What she didn’t know was why he was here.

  Mike’s expression was grim when Catherine opened the door. Almost angry, for some reason.

  “It’s late,” she said, “and I’m tired.”

  “This won’t take long.”

  He waited implacably on the doorstep until she sighed and moved back to allow him to enter. She could smell the faint scents of smoke and beer as he passed, reminding her that he had been at a club only a short time earlier. Closing the door behind him, she asked, “Why are you here?”

  “You said you couldn’t hear me on the phone earlier,” he replied, turning to face her. “Can you hear me now?”

  Lifting her chin, she decided not to answer that rather testy question.

  “I was trying to tell you that nothing was going on,” he continued. “I had some food and a couple of drinks with Bob and Brandon. Ther
e was a girl at the club I’d met once at a party, but I hadn’t even spoken to her when you called.”

  “You don’t owe me explanations,” she told him, pushing her hands into the pockets of her khaki slacks.

  “You know, that’s what I told myself all the way home. And then I reminded myself that I’d told you I would be studying all evening.”

  “Plans change,” she said with a shrug intended to look nonchalant. “Your friends called, and you joined them. I understand.”

  “I told them I had to leave early to study, but every time I tried to get away, they made me feel all guilty and defensive.”

  Remembering the way Julia had done pretty much the same thing to her that afternoon, Catherine softened just a little. “I understand. But really, Mike, you didn’t have to come here tonight.”

  “I didn’t like the way our phone call ended,” he said, searching her face. “I didn’t like the way I felt after you hung up.”

  She wished now that she had never called in the first place. She had hesitated before doing so, but she had thought he might have a question about his biology studies. And besides, she reminded herself yet again, he had asked her to call. “I didn’t mean to ruin your evening.”

  “You didn’t ruin my evening. I was ready to leave, anyway.”

  He looked so serious. Almost anxious. Probably, he had been having fun with his friends, whom he certainly hadn’t seen much lately. Despite what he said, hearing her annoyed voice on his cell phone had obviously put an end to the evening for him.

  She didn’t like to think of herself as a killjoy. And she really hated being seen as some sort of mother figure, nagging him to study for his tests.

  “Maybe I’m just too tired, but I’m not sure what you came here to say.”

  He raised a hand to brush her hair back from her face. His smile looked as weary as she felt—but the expression in his eyes made her knees go weak. “I just wanted to see you tonight. I missed you.”

  She reached up to catch his hand and hold it against her cheek. She couldn’t think of anything at all to say—and she wasn’t sure she could have pushed the words past the lump in her throat, anyway—so she just stood there, gazing up at him.

  He bent his head and brushed a kiss across her lips. A little shiver ran through her, and she rested both hands against his chest, her fingers curling slightly into the fabric of his shirt.

  The next kiss wasn’t nearly as fleeting or tentative. Wrapping both arms around her, he pulled her close and covered her mouth with his again. More firmly this time. More confidently, as if he were a bit more assured that his embrace would be welcomed.

  Just in case he still had any doubt about that, she slid her arms around his neck and parted her lips for him. The kiss deepened, and their hearts began to pound against each other. Maybe they sometimes had a little trouble communicating with words, she thought somewhat dazedly, but they had no trouble connecting in this way.

  It wasn’t enough—but it would do for now.

  Mike was drawing her toward the bedroom when she suddenly came to her senses. “Wait. We can’t do this.”

  “Sure we can,” he said, taking another step toward the bedroom. “And we do it very well, I might add.”

  She might have heartily agreed with that sentiment, had she not been clinging so determinedly to her willpower.

  “You have those tests tomorrow.”

  “I know the material,” he assured her. “Haven’t you told me you don’t approve of night-before-the-test cramming?”

  “It’s not as effective as daily studying, but—”

  He moved closer to her and toyed suggestively with the top button of her blouse. “I’ll do better on my tests if I’m relaxed and feeling good.”

  Looking at him with reproach, she said, “That’s a very weak argument.”

  He chuckled, and the button slid smoothly out of its hole. “Sorry. It was the best I could come up with on short notice.”

  “You really should—”

  “Catherine.” His wandering hands stilled as he looked her in the eyes. “Forget the tests for now. If you want me to go, just say so.”

  This was the point where she should insist that he go home and study for his exams. But because she was still smarting over that mental image of herself as a crabby chaperone, she decided she would do no such thing. Mike didn’t need her to fret about his grades. He was certainly old enough to make his own decisions about such things.

  Instead she responded specifically to what he had said. “I don’t want you to go.”

  He grinned and pulled her into his arms again. He wasn’t worried about the tests, so she wouldn’t either, she promised herself. She could be as relaxed and impulsive as the next person. She could be like his other friends, the ones he’d been hanging out with until she had called and ruined his evening.

  If there were any lingering misgivings—and there were—she pushed them very firmly to the back of her mind.

  Mike left Catherine early the next morning, saying he would shower and change for work in his own apartment. She walked him to the door. “I’m having dinner with Julia and Karen this evening.”

  “Tell them hello for me.”

  “I will. I hope your day goes well.” She deliberately left the wish vague, choosing not to mention his tests.

  “Thanks. Yours, too. Good luck with that, uh, contamination problem.”

  They hadn’t talked much about the specifics of her job. He hadn’t asked many questions—whether from lack of real interest or discomfort with discussing highly technical scientific procedures, she wasn’t certain. And because she was so accustomed to nonscientists looking bored when she talked about her work, she hadn’t brought it up very often, herself. She was actually a bit surprised that he even remembered her mentioning the contamination problem during their brief, awkward conversation when he was at the club with his friends.

  “Thanks,” she said. “I’ll work it out.”

  He started to reach for the doorknob, then paused and looked at her. “So, we’re good?”

  She wasn’t sure exactly what he meant, but it seemed safe enough to smile and say, “We’re good.”

  He kissed her quickly, then drew back to smile at her. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

  “Call me in the morning and we’ll make arrangements. I have to go into the lab for an hour or so, but I’m free after that.”

  After he left, Catherine sank bonelessly onto her couch and picked up Norman, stroking him mechanically.

  For an affair that was supposed to be “just for fun”—just a lighthearted fling—this was beginning to feel entirely too serious. Too many of her emotions were becoming involved, and she could not even define most of them.

  Maybe she had better start paying attention to Julia’s pessimistic warnings and cynical advice, after all.

  “What are your plans for Thanksgiving?” Karen asked during dinner that evening, addressing the question to both Julia and Catherine.

  Julia answered first. “I’m flying to Miami to spend Thanksgiving with my parents. We’re all going to Colorado for Christmas with my brother, so it looks as though my holidays are booked.”

  “What about you, Catherine?” Karen inquired.

  Catherine shrugged. “Since my parents aren’t going to be in the country, I haven’t made any plans. I’ll probably just spend the day relaxing.”

  Karen shook her head emphatically. “There’s no need for you to spend the day alone. I’m thinking about cooking a big, traditional Thanksgiving dinner now that I finally have a kitchen big enough to accommodate everything. It’s silly to cook that much just for Wayne and myself, so I’d like to invite a few people to join us. Bonnie and Chris, of course, and you.”

  Catherine wasn’t usually enthusiastic about spending holidays with other people’s families, but this was a group she wouldn’t mind so much. “That sounds nice.”

  Her expression turning speculative, Karen asked, “How would you feel if I inv
ite Bill James?”

  Catherine scowled. “Karen—”

  “Well, this is his first Thanksgiving since his mother died. He doesn’t have any other family, so he’s going to be alone for the holiday.”

  “Since when do you know so much about him?”

  “I run into him in the hallways fairly often, since he does some research in my department. He and I happened to be in the coffee shop at the same time last week, and we shared a table for a few minutes while we had our coffee and muffins.”

  “And all you talked about was the upcoming holiday season?” Catherine asked suspiciously.

  “Your name might have come up.”

  Catherine groaned.

  “It was no big deal,” Karen assured her hastily. “He just mentioned that he knew you and I are good friends and he asked how you are. I said you’d been really busy with work and he said he’d already figured that out because he’s hardly seen you lately. And then he said he hoped your schedule would slow down enough so that you can have dinner with him again soon.”

  “And you encouraged him to call me, didn’t you?” Catherine accused.

  “I might have said something like that.”

  “Karen—”

  “What? You said he’s a really nice guy and you had a good time with him at Dr. McNulty’s retirement party.”

  “He is, and I did. But that doesn’t mean I want to go out with him again.”

  “Right,” Julia murmured. “Why would you want to go out with a mature, settled guy with a real job and a solid future?”

  “Okay, here’s the rule,” Catherine said, turning on Julia. “You don’t talk about Mike—even indirectly—tonight, and I won’t remind you that you slept with Buzz Stewart.”

  Julia’s face went bright red, and she quickly went back to eating her dinner. Satisfied that she had effectively silenced Julia for a while—no small accomplishment— Catherine turned back to Karen. “You certainly have the right to invite anyone you like to your Thanksgiving dinner, but I really wish you would stop trying to fix me up with Bill. I’m just really not interested right now.”