by Faith O'Shea
“And then what, Rique? Then you go to Brazil in search of a wife? Will you be looking for one who can stimulate? My impression is I’m not an exception. I’m beginning to think you’re right and that any woman will do.”
His smile drooped. He couldn’t deny he enjoyed the intimacy of deep relationships. But she was wrong about any woman fitting the role. He was beginning to understand that if he couldn’t build an attachment that was authentic, he wasn’t interested in pursuing it. The one he was creating with her was becoming personal. He’d been caught in the web of friendship that he wasn’t willing to extricate himself from. He might have a plan for the future, but he was no longer sure he would find everything he was looking for in one woman. Someone like Fifi hadn’t even been on his radar. Being with her was growing his list of necessary traits.
“Every woman is exceptional. I can’t help that I enjoy female company.”
“Maybe not, but I can choose not to be one of them.”
Now it was his turn to stiffen. “Are you going to tell me that you didn’t enjoy this afternoon?”
“That would be foolish of me. You were there. You know I enjoyed it.”
At least she was willing to admit it out loud, although there was a solemn expression on her face.
Was it longing? For something more? Had he ever asked her what she was looking for? He knew a lab was one of those things, but was that all? She’d told him before that she had no use for a husband, but was that the truth or some jerk reaction to his asshole remark about finding herself one?
“So, what would the harm be if we continued to enjoy each other for the next couple of days?”
“I don’t want to be tagged as someone’s diversion. And that’s all I am to you.”
He stroked her cheek, allowing the feel of her skin to soothe the savage beast within.
“You’re more than that, Fifi. You’re…my friend, and I would never hurt you on purpose.”
“I’m not sure about that. You are all about you. What you want is more imperative than what’s appropriate or good for you. You know as well as I do that I’m not good for you.”
“I’d have to disagree after what we did earlier.”
“I’m good for you because I’m here. For today. If I wasn’t you’d find something or someone else to entertain you. I’ll be a case of out of sight, out of mind come Tuesday.”
She might be right, although he wasn’t as sure as he’d like to be. He had a feeling it would take longer than a day to wipe away the repercussions of their lovemaking. He was even beginning to feel that it might impede his search. But it didn’t stop him from wanting what he wanted. Another exclusive day with her.
How was he going to convince her to go along with it? His hunger hadn’t abated. In fact, it only gnawed more relentlessly.
His eyes flashed up at her. “Are you saying I won’t be anything more than a memory on Tuesday?”
“That’s all you can be. I’ve got my whole life planned out and it doesn’t include you or anyone like you.”
Was that sadness in her eyes? The gray had turned to dull pewter.
That spooked him. The look and the sentiment. He wanted to be one of her cherished memories. When she was rocking in her chair on her front porch when she was ninety, he wanted her to look back and remember their afternoon of pleasure with a smile.
“What does it include, Fifi? What do you want, besides your lab?”
She dipped her eyes, shuffled backward and said quietly, “Nothing.”
He didn’t believe that. She was full of life, and she had a passionate nature. She hid it beneath a wall of isolation, but he’d gotten a peek at what lay beyond it. She had to be lying. Then again, maybe she didn’t want more.
“That would be like me saying all I want for the rest of my life is to hit balls and catch grounders. I need to include other things for a rich and satisfying life.”
She was staring into the distance, a look of resignation on her face.
“I know. You’ve told me. A wife, children, family.”
“You want none of that?”
“I’m not sure. What if I turn out like my mother? She was…unable to split her focus to include us. I think if you have children, you owe them part of yourself at least while they’re young. My father tried to make up for it by being home most nights, giving up a more lucrative job to support his wife. I’m not sure there are many men out there like him. Most are like you and want a helpmate, someone to take care of the inconsequential things while they do the real work. Or at least someone who’ll share the load.”
He didn’t think of his mother as inconsequential. She was the glue that held the family together. She did the real work, raising, nurturing, loving each of her children, and they’d grown into responsible citizens of the world. At least the rest of his siblings had.
“You’ve admitted before that you’re nothing like her. And I have to agree. You have a lot of love inside of you. I can’t believe you’d choose to remain alone.”
“It might not be a question of choice.”
“We’re born to love, Fifi. It’s a driving force that compels us to search for that certain someone. You’re telling me that you won’t look for it, or at the very least keep the door open?”
“The door will always be open, but I might be too preoccupied to notice anyone standing outside.”
“Then I hope they barge right in and sweep you off your feet.”
And in one fluid motion, he picked her up and swung her around and around. He was making himself dizzy, but he couldn’t stop. She was clinging to his shoulders, and her unexpected laugh was shimmering through him.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
When he finally put her down, Fiona was breathless. He constantly surprised her, in the way he touched her both physically and emotionally. She couldn’t imagine anyone else spinning her around like that, so playful, so full of himself. She didn’t mind his bouts of selfish delight when she was the object of his attention. He wanted another day together and she knew she’d be unable to deny him. Or herself. And why should she? Just a look alone could cause funny little jumping jacks to spring in her stomach. And it wasn’t only sexual. She admired his way with people and his warmth, his emotional expressiveness. He was like an open book. She’d uncovered who he was within ten minutes of meeting him. It didn’t take a genius for that. He had a mocking disregard for others that was not very appealing, but it was offset by his charm and boyishness. There’d been an immediate connection in the form of a thunderbolt. Maybe he was right, and humans were driven to find love, one that could withstand the test of time. Maybe sex wasn’t the primal urge to mate, a biological design, serving an evolutionary purpose. Had she become so clinical that she only measured it in scientific terms? The exclusive study of DNA had given her a microscopic view of genes along with the endless possibilities that came from mixing two separate helixes. Since meeting him, she’d been shown the other side of it, the emotions that also prompted it. Her heart had become involved, and it was whispering its intent to fall in love with him. It was her brain screaming he couldn’t possibly be the one. How had she fallen so deeply?
Did it have to do with timing? She was going through a transition, a shift from student to scientist, with unemployment hanging over her. It was producing stress, and with the upheaval of emotions, she’d become susceptible to passion. That the man in question was gorgeous, athletic, and had a hidden sensitive nature didn’t help quench it. The circuits in her brain had gone haywire, pushing her down a path that was a dead end. It was a frustrating attraction, but the wanting wasn’t going away. Especially now that she’d tasted what he had to offer.
She watched him as he made her dinner, a dish towel tucked in the waistband of his pants. His forehead was furrowed in concentration as he peeled the garlic, smashed it with a knife, and flaked away the outer skin. After sprinkling it with salt and pepper, he put it in a black skillet with some butter. His movements were sure, his body tempting. It was an aph
rodisiac in itself.
He glanced over at her and explained, “This is one of my mother’s recipes that only takes fifteen minutes to make, and seeing that you said you were hungry…as am I, if you must know, I thought it would be perfect. And I found some pão de queijo in the freezer when I took out the skirt steak. Izabella makes it almost as good as my mother does so you’re in for a treat.”
“What is pão de…pão…that.” She was pointing to the sealed pouch on the counter.
He grinned at her. “Cheese bread. I wouldn’t dare serve you goats’ intestine or calf brains.”
“You eat that?” It was more a croak than a question.
“On occasion.”
He’d opened the pouch and put the bread on a cookie sheet, placed it on the first rack of the oven before turning his attention to the steak. She was fascinated with the way he worked, precise and methodical. It was how she conducted an experiment and she wondered if cooking might not be outside her comfort zone after all. Not if she thought about it that way. All she’d need was a set of directions, some measuring tools, and the right utensils. Just like in the lab. She smiled to herself and decided she’d give it a try one day. Outside his purview.
“It’s almost ready.”
He transferred the steak to a cutting board. “I have to let this sit for a few minutes, or it will bleed out. Why don’t you grab something to drink while we wait?”
She pushed herself away from her ring-side seat at the island and did as he asked. “Beer?”
“One shouldn’t hurt.”
She twisted the cap off the water and beer and brought them back to the counter. She was sniffing the air, her hunger pangs suddenly boisterous. “Is it ready yet?”
There was a repressed chuckle. “It’s coming. I didn’t realize that food was so high up on your priority list.”
“It is when I’m thinking about it.”
“And when you’re not?”
“I have to be in the lab for that to happen. It’s easy to skip meals when you’re—”
“On the brink of some new discovery?”
“Yes. As a matter of fact.” She took a sip of her water and then asked, “Have you heard anything about Farina?”
He was slicing the steak and plating it before topping it off with the butter garlic sauce. She thought the chopped green stuff he was adding might be parsley.
“Yeah. I checked my messages when you went upstairs to get dressed. The wake is Wednesday, the funeral Thursday.”
“They’re just waking him one day?”
“Yeah. Hours are noon to eight with an hour supper break at five.”
“With all the people attending, it doesn’t give them much time to get here.”
“His wife was thinking about just a graveside service, but her children talked her out of it due to the numbers of condolence calls coming in. With so many mourners who’ll want to pay their respects, she reluctantly agreed but just for a day. From what I hear she’s not taking his death well.”
“It was unexpected.”
As he carried the plates over to the island bar, where she was sitting, he must have noticed what she was drinking.
“Just water?”
She reclipped the tangled curls behind her ear. Passion had a way of making them even more unruly than usual. What did he think when he looked at her? Did he think her pretty at all? She certainly wasn’t a classic beauty and men were more attracted by visual processing than women and sought proportion and symmetry. With her thoughts incessant about her hair, she said, absently, “I don’t drink much.”
He reached out to grasp her fingers and pulled to gain her attention. When she looked up, his eyes had a certain gleam. “What’s your preference when you do?”
She unconsciously began to stroke the edge of his hand with her thumb.
“Don’t really have one. If push comes to shove and I have to order something, I’ll have a glass of something bubbly, like a wine spritzer. Champagne’s my favorite but they don’t sell that by the glass.”
He lifted her hand and kissed her palm.
“Good to know.”
She studied him for a minute, not understanding why it was good to know that about her and extricated her hand from his.
“You keep saying that. After Tuesday we’ll probably never see each other again.”
He gave her a first-rate scowl. “I won’t accept that I’ll never see you again.”
She didn’t like that thought, either, but she was a realist and knew once they went their separate ways, the chances of being in his company were nil. He’d go back to Brazil, find a wife, live his life, probably never giving her another thought. That she’d remember him vividly was her problem.
She cut a piece of her steak and brought it up to her mouth, let the fork hover there, and said, “I hope you don’t expect me to attend your wedding.”
She needed to remind herself that he was already taken. That the woman in question hadn’t been selected didn’t mean it wasn’t going to happen. He could get anyone he wanted with a crook of his finger. Needing something other than his presence to occupy her senses she tasted the beef and closed her eyes. It was delicious. She could so get used to someone cooking for her.
Only when she felt the stare did she glance over. He could have burned a hole in her forehead, it was so laser focused.
“What? You don’t, do you? I draw the line at being present at my ex-lover’s nuptials.”
He began to chew his lip, and she noticed he hadn’t even taken a bite of the dinner.
“I thought you were going to go to a game. Once the season starts. With your friends.”
“As long as you don’t sit me near your wife, maybe.”
His forehead creased, his lips pursed. “You could sit with Izabella.”
“Who will more than likely be sitting with her new sister-in-law.”
His expression shifted and tension stiffened his features. He obviously hadn’t thought this through, hadn’t come to terms with the fact that he’d soon be married, or at least engaged. He was leaving on Thursday for Brazil, taking the weekend to scout out his options. Word had come down that the practices had been suspended for the foreseeable future. Until they hired a new manager, everything was up in the air, so he was leaving earlier than expected for his exploratory trip.
Wanting to abandon all talk about his other women, she went where her current thought process had taken her. “Isn’t there a meeting today to discuss new leadership?”
“Yes, it was this morning. I still haven’t heard anything.”
“Will they group text you like they did about Farina?”
It didn’t seem the polite way to go about announcing a major change, but group texts made it easier to get the word out to all rather than do it one call at a time.
“Probably.”
He seemed distant, far away, and she wondered where he’d gone.
“Are you worried?”
“Huh? About the new manager? Not really. Nothing to worry about until I hear who’s accepted the position.”
“Then why aren’t you eating? You’ve created a masterpiece and you’re letting it get cold.”
She took the last bite of her cheese bread. She’d have to tell Izabella how much she enjoyed it. Maybe get the recipe… Seriously? She’d need to take baby steps, like tea and toast, first.
“You have become a friend, Fifi. I don’t want to lose you because I’m getting married.”
She felt her eyes go wide. She hadn’t expected to continue their…whatever it was they had together. Lovers? Friends? Had they really crossed from acquaintance to friend? Was she truly friendship material or was the relationship superficial, based on proximity and need? Curiosity? He’d be off-limits once he said those vows. No way would she sleep with a married man. Could they sustain another type of dynamic once they went their separate ways?
“I’m not sure that’s wise. Your life will change soon and there won’t be room for female friends. Wives don’t
take kindly to their husbands palling around with women they’ve slept with.”
There was a vehement shake of his head. “She would never have to know that.”
She let her fork drop onto her empty plate and turned to look at him. Meeting his eyes, forcing herself not to fall into them, she said bluntly, “You’re going to begin this new life of yours with secrets and lies? I’m disappointed but not surprised.”
He was not thinking clearly. He couldn’t be. But then again Rique, saw the big picture, didn’t bother with the details. And he had missed a big one.
“She has to be able to trust you, don’t you think?”
“I will be faithful, but I won’t be stifled. I am not willing to cut you out of my life. Not for anyone.” He reached out and took her hand in his. “You know how to settle me. I have had no desire to go out, drink, or party with you here.”
Her eyes fluttered closed. She couldn’t lose control, not of her heart or her head. She not only had to go slow here, she had to s-t-o-p thinking that she could take what he’d said and go with it.
With a tight voice, she told him simply, “I can’t be your live-in settler. You’ll just have to find someone who has the same effect.”
He knew that. What he didn’t know was how he was going to go about that. What he’d found here with her was a true connection, a meeting of minds and bodies, something he’d never expected. He was looking at her differently than he had that first morning, her hair dripping wet, her face covered with grit. He’d been mocking and arrogant, but she’d turned the tables on him, putting him in his place and making him feel the inferior one. She’d never wasted his time with unemotional or irrelevant small talk. Her comments were on target or filled with intelligent anecdotes. The one about kissing had broadened his perspective. In fact, every time he kissed her, there was a heightened awareness of touch and texture. They’d had heart-to-heart talks that had awakened his curiosity, and he’d found, once her sexual appetite was whetted, it equaled his own. She’d taken him on a journey into her psyche and he’d found parts of himself along the way. In the time he’d spent with her, he was whittling away what were the unnecessary attributes on his mental list and discovering what were the important traits he’d need in a mate. She was helping him define his ideal, the one with whom he could create a meaningful and inspiring union. In order to keep his eyes on the prize, he’d need to keep Fifi with him.
