by Faith O'Shea
Her father said casually, knowing he was taking a risk, “You took two years off between undergrad and applying for your doctorate. Fiona knows what she’s doing. Leave her be, Clare.”
“I just don’t want her to lose her momentum.”
“Sometimes, Mom, when you’re climbing a mountain, you need to rest. It doesn’t stop you from achieving the summit, it doesn’t even slow you down, it gives you the stamina and energy to keep going.”
Her mother clicked her tongue against her teeth before she said, “I don’t want you to lose hope.”
Fiona blew out a breath. There was always an underlying fear to her mother’s assertiveness. It was as if bulldozing her way through, no one would notice the doubts that clung to her confidence.
With more patience, she said mildly, “I won’t. I love my research, but I’m realistic enough to know I may have to gain some experience before anyone gives me my own lab. You got that before UPenn, I might have to do it now.”
Fiona dumped her coffee out and put the cup in the dishwasher before turning and asking, “What are you doing here, anyway?”
“I’m attending a symposium in Worcester later today.”
“You never mentioned it before.”
“I got the call last night asking me to fill in for someone. We left right after I agreed, stayed over in Connecticut. Being so close, we decided to drop in, check on you. I worry.” She licked her lips and met her eyes. “Maybe I shouldn’t.”
Fiona felt the weight of expectation fall away.
“I hope you’re taking advantage of having such a handsome young man at your disposal.”
She flashed a look in her mother’s direction. Clare was idly inspecting her nails as if the question wasn’t a time bomb.
“What?”
“He’s very good-looking. Impeccable manners, a sophisticated air about him. Very international.”
“And so very much out of my league.”
Rique was still standing at the bathroom counter trying to regain his balance.
When Fifi had walked into the room she’d assaulted every one of his senses. So used to seeing her in jeans and a sweater, he wasn’t prepared to see her so feminine and…heart stopping. Dressed in a gray turtle-neck dress, with what looked like silver snakes winding around her hips, and short gray ankle boots with tights, she was a picture to behold. Her hair framed her face, which was discreetly made up with some blush and mascara. She’d looked almost…beautiful.
Compounding that new image was the fact that she had her doctorate. Wasn’t she too young to be that schooled? How much discipline had that taken? How many late nights, studying, compiling data, foregoing any kind of life?
Dr. Fiona Barrows. He snorted. Definitely not a Fifi but yet the name still fit.
He looked up into the mirror. Laughed at himself for possibly the first time ever. He’d jibed about her being a dog walker, of not having ambition, of needing to marry so she could live a life of ease. She’d shown him up on every front but had never countered his attacks on her dignity. Had she ever lived a life of ease? It didn’t seem it. Her mother was a task master and he wondered how much pressure she’d put on Fifi to achieve what she had. He had a burning need to know everything about her.
He pulled his cell out and called his sister. He needed a calm voice in the midst of such confusing thoughts.
The first thing Izabella asked was, “How are you doing?”
“I’m a little off-kilter.”
“I know it must be a confusing time for you, but whoever they bring in will give you—”
“Not about that. I didn’t really know the guy so I can’t be taking it as hard as Reid. It’s about Fifi.”
“Enrique, you have to stop calling her that.”
He spun around, massaging his throbbing temple.
“I know. I know. Why didn’t you tell me she doesn’t walk dogs for a living?”
“I…I didn’t think it had any bearing on…anything. She finally tell?”
He ground his teeth in frustration. Why had she kept him in the dark about it?
“No. Her parents were in the area and stopped in, and her mother mentioned it.”
Not merely mentioned it, crowed about it.
“You’ve been living in the same house for close to a week now. You’re telling me there wasn’t an opportunity to ask her?”
She’d always led the conversation away from herself and back to him and…he’d let her.
“I guess I should have.”
“I bet you never veered from you as the subject. Would have been nice to seem interested in a life other than your own.”
It would have been. He’d spent the week making her feel inadequate, insisting that she’d put her time and effort into something insubstantial. Maybe it had more to do with her making him feel that way and he was just getting even.
Izabella interrupted his thoughts. “We’ll be home Monday. You have just a couple of days left to make it up to her. Ask her about her life, Rique. It’s interesting even for someone like you.”
He already knew that, even before he knew about her extensive education. It was more about how she walked in the world. She knew who she was, what she wanted, knew her weaknesses and didn’t apologize for them. And she was fucking driving him crazy.
He showered and dressed. He’d put on a good pair of trousers, a white shirt and suit coat, but skipped the tie. It looked as if they were going to an upscale place, something he never would have expected. It was his element, but he never would have thought it was hers.
He returned to the kitchen to find the family more relaxed than when he’d left. When Fifi looked up at him, there was a gleam that sparkled. It was another sucker punch to the gut. He wanted things he shouldn’t want. Not if he was going to move forward with his plan.
Clare retrieved her coat from the back of the stool and said, “Good. Now we can go. Our reservation was for nine o’clock and if we don’t leave now, we’ll be grossly late.”
“It’s just around the corner. Shouldn’t take us long to get there.”
“Why don’t you follow us. We’ll have to get on the road soon after if I’m to be in Worcester on time.”
“Why don’t you follow us, seeing that I know how to get there.”
“Fine.”
When she stood, Rique realized how much taller than Fifi she was.
His lips twitched when he asked, “The height gene skip a generation?”
“Nope. Just me. My sister’s almost as tall as my mother.”
He assessed both of her parents and grinned. “The mailman’s looking more on target.”
She gifted him with a smile back. “You wouldn’t say that if you’d seen him.”
He escorted her to his car, opened her door, and watched her climb in. She’d left her coat unzipped and she struggled into the confining space, he got a peek at some thigh as her dress inched higher. Not bare-skin thigh but it caused the same kind of damage to his heart rate as if she’d been completely naked.
She regarded him with amusement. “Ever think about buying a car for comfort?”
His eyes crinkled at her in return. “Where’s the fun in that?”
She shook her head at him, her curls creating a halo around her face. She almost looked like an angel, the penetrating gray eyes holding him spellbound.
He closed the door and scrambled to the other side. Her parents’ car was idling in the drive-way, waiting for him to get moving.
He pulled out with a screech, his adrenaline off the charts, but immediately took his foot off the accelerator in an effort to slow it down. Her mother had already derided his choice of careers, made him sound like a boy who refused to grow up. He’d just given her one more reason to think that. And the car itself spoke to his need to look successful, something else she’d eschewed, suggesting that the less power one had within, the more one tried to compensate. He wasn’t compensating for anything. He liked speed, and he liked the way the car handled. It might look exp
ensive, and it was, but it had nothing to do with making up for what he lacked. Did it?
There was little time to talk, her directions coming quickly, one right after a left, then another right and they were pulling into the parking lot. They were on the outer rim of a campus, the old brick building looking historical and stately.
Absentmindedly he asked, “What school is that?”
“Phillips Academy.”
He’d heard of it. A couple of presidents had gone there. The ones with money.
“Prestigious.”
“One of the best. Very international. You would have fit right in.”
“Did you go there?”
“No. When my mother pushed for the second-grade jump, she wanted me close by so she could make sure she hadn’t overestimated my skill level.”
“You skipped grades?”
“Yes. In second and then in sixth.”
“That would have made you…how old when you went to high school?”
“Twelve.”
He turned his head slowly to look at her. He was ill equipped to handle his high school years at fourteen, all those hormones, along with peer pressure.
“And you managed it?”
“Survived would be a more accurate description.”
Her mother tapped at the window, then wrapped her arms around her middle to offset the cold breeze that was in the air.
“Is there a problem?”
Fiona pulled at the door lever and opened it.
“You’ve opened up a can of worms that I’m trying to seal back up.”
“What do you mean?”
She shook off the question, knowing her mother wouldn’t understand the answer anyway.
“Nothing. Let’s eat. I’m hungry.”
He followed the women, who were strolling arm in arm along the paved walkway.
Pat came up beside him and offered, “They get along better than it looks. Clare will always see her as her baby, which chafes, but Fiona has always gone her own way. It’s something Clare respects even if she doesn’t always agree with the path.”
“Fi...ona’s been pushed to achieve what she has, from my vantage point.”
“She would have reached the summit no matter how long it took. Fiona’s always had intelligence and grit. What she didn’t accomplish with one trait, she accomplished with the other.”
Grit. Determination. Mental discipline. She had it in spades. What she must think of him? That was easy. Spoiled and pampered. He’d never minded before, but now? He didn’t like the way it felt anymore.
Pat hurried forward to open the door for his wife and daughter, who’d waited as if it was expected.
By the time he entered the elegant restaurant, Clare had already given the hostess their name.
“Come this way, please.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Once they were seated, Fiona opposite him at the four-seat table, he looked around. It had the ambience of something out of the past, the dark wood, white linen tablecloths, the crystal water goblets. It was upscale in a town known for its wealth and status, but he couldn’t see Reid or Izabella dining here. Too stuffy but maybe just right for an academian, and Clare certainly looked that part. She was supposedly famous for her work and she had the elegance and grace that Fiona… He glanced over to find her eyes on him, the intelligence so clearly written there. No, Fifi lacked nothing.
Her eyes hadn’t left his even as the black rectangular menus were handed to each of them, and there was another shift of the ground beneath his feet. He didn’t understand it. She was nothing like the woman he had in mind for himself, yet there was something about her that pulled at him. How long would he be able to ignore the heat of the attraction? It was more than carnal; it was mental as well. She intrigued him and that was even before he knew what she did for a living.
After placing their order, he asked, needing to know what her future held, “What exactly was your thesis about?”
Her mother was the one who responded. He was beginning to think that happened a lot.
“It’s quite technical. I’m not sure you’d be able to understand the scale or substance of her dissertation.”
He stiffened. Did Clare think him a simpleton? He’d done well at university, could have chosen any career given his academic achievements, but because he played baseball…
He struggled to keep his irritation from showing but he failed as his defiance filtered through.
“I know what that involves. My sister has been accepted at the university to further her studies in paleontology. She’ll begin her research after the year sabbatical she took to search for bones.”
Clare’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”
He smiled at the thought of Felicia and her summers spent digging for dinosaur fossils.
“We lived in Sousa, the only place in the world where visitors can walk along fossilized tracks. It was one of her favorite places and when she was old enough, she went on her first expedition. She’d found her dream and her passion, and she was hooked. Within miles of our home there are vast stretches of unexplored graves. In fact, she was part of the team that just discovered the oldest long-neck dinosaur that they’ve dated back to the Triassic period.” He gave Clare a wry smile as if she wouldn’t know what that was. “That dates back to two hundred and twenty-five million years ago.”
“I know what the Triassic Era was. I’ve studied the earth’s composition at each of its turning points.”
The tone was laced with irritation and sarcasm. He’d gotten under her skin which was what he’d meant to do. She’d gotten under his with her constant harping on Fifi’s shortcomings. When he noticed a smile playing at the edge of Fifi’s mouth, he studied it. It was a nice mouth, soft lips…
His eyes rolled up at the thought of the pressure, the texture…
He wasn’t used to ignoring such attractions. If he wanted a woman, he went after her. But in this case, he couldn’t. Fifi knew his agenda and he was convinced she’d never give in to such a shallow interaction.
Getting to know her better might not help his libido, but it would go a long way in making him strengthen the connection. For some reason he needed to.
Directing the question to her, he asked, “What exactly did you research?”
“The alteration of proteins in gene mutation.”
His mouth dropped open. “And that is, exactly?”
“Do you remember what proteins are, from that biology class you took?”
“I remember the words amino acids. And I think they come in chains. That about sums it up.”
“They are composed of amino acids and they do form chains, very long ones, that are folded into complex shapes, along with some other ingredients. They are actually the worker bees of the body, so if a gene mutates, the protein is what does the dirty work, producing the disorder or disease. You can’t really tell from looking at it what’s packed inside the chain, so you can’t tell what it’s doing. If we can figure out how to see inside, and then catalog them, we can treat individual disease more efficiently.”
She’d explained it to him in a clear and concise way and he got the gist of it, but there was far too much involved to become conversant in it. It made him even more impressed with her credentials than he’d been before.
Her mother, not to be outdone, added, “It’s a new field, one that requires a painstaking number of samples and has a long list of failed experiments. This is what Fiona’s dedicated her life to and it’s extremely important work.”
Clare was right. The world needed her, and he could see her succeeding. Would she need to sacrifice her entire life to scientific discovery, or could she incorporate those other things that made it worthwhile and enjoyable? She needed someone to coax her out of her shell, make her laugh, lighten her very heavy load. He wanted her to end up with someone who could respect her value to science, be willing to compromise, take on some of the domestic responsibilities that came with marriage and not someone like him who wanted a wife
at home, in his kitchen and his bed.
The image of her there was like a flash of lightning, the roar of thunder pounding in his head.
It was almost suffocating in its intensity. He took a sip of coffee, choked it down.
“Boring, right?”
His eyes flashed up to meet hers. How could she think she was boring? Her eyes had lit up when she spoke, making her glow. That alone would have kept him listening. Her enthusiasm was catching.
He gave her a knowing grin.
“Not any more so than baseball. There are some people I know who don’t want to hear about the intricacies of the game but it’s something I could talk about all night.”
She returned his grin.
“I know.”
Their eyes met with a force that shimmered through his body. When he heard her father clear his throat, he refocused his energy.
“You said you’ve had a couple of interviews. Where have you applied so far?”
“Harvard and one of the hospitals in Boston.”
Impressive places. She was shooting for the stars.
“How’d they go?”
“Disappointing.”
The waitress had come over and placed their meals in front of them. He flicked his napkin open and put it on his lap, watched as his three companions did the same. After tasting the omelet, he said, “Reid has a contact at the Dana Farber. Maybe he can ask around, see if anyone’s willing to lend you a lab.”
She laughed but it came out as more of a scoff.
“Finding someone to lend me a lab might be easy. It’s the funding part that will get in the way. No one’s willing to take a chance on someone so young.”
Her mother’s ire was up but this time it wasn’t directed at him. “Fools, but not surprising. Youth, on top of being female, puts her at a distinct disadvantage.”
He had to admit it was still a man’s world, but it was changing in increments because of people like the Barrows women.
He asked between bites, “How much would you need?”
“Millions.”
His fork stalled and he gulped. “That much?”
