Spiral of Bliss: The Complete Boxed Set

by Nina Lane

  Even in a suit and tie that he clearly didn’t want to wear, he didn’t appear subdued or even softened one bit. If anything, the suit underscored his hard edges, the sense of unpredictability and danger that was as much a part of him as his physical appeal. Like a beautiful, crouched tiger about to lunge for its prey.

  He pressed a glass of wine into my hand. He dipped his head a little closer to the side of my neck and inhaled. My heart pounded.

  “What is it?” His voice was a low, sexy rumble. I almost felt its vibrations against my skin.

  “Um… what?”

  “Not perfume. What kind of soap?”

  “Almond milk and… and honey.”

  Heat radiated from his body, the leashed energy of his muscles. Even though the air in the hall was artificially cold, I was getting hot from the inside out.

  “Hmm.” Again that throaty growl that echoed in my blood. “No wonder I’m hungry.”

  I wanted to give him some smart-aleck retort, but couldn’t think of anything. I wanted to move away, but couldn’t. I wanted to give him a patented Kelsey March glare and push him away, but…

  I moved closer to him. Inhaled. No scent of aftershave on him, just a purely clean, male smell of wind and leaves. A long-suppressed urge sparked to life inside me, the ache of longing for lightning bolts and black storm clouds, heavy rain, and thunderclouds.

  Desire for everything that was Archer West.

  Alarm bells went off in my head, faint but definitely there, everything Dean had ever told me about his brother combined with my own certain knowledge that Archer West was dangerous. I knew where men like him could take me, and exhilarating as the ride would be, the end was nowhere good.

  I stepped away from him. Cold air filled the space between us. I shivered, tightening my fingers on the wineglass.

  “So, you’d better come and meet my colleagues.” I injected a cool note into my voice and turned to where a group of meteorology professors stood. “They’re reviewing me for tenure in a few weeks, which will decide my professional fate. That means I have to be good.”

  “Pity.” His murmur slid over my skin like a kiss.

  Holy hell. I knew I was giving him openings, wanting to see where he’d go with them and liking wherever that might be. There was nothing safe about Archer West, and I had always been powerfully and instinctively drawn to the unsafe… until I discovered that it went hand in hand with a pain I didn’t want to bear.

  I started walking toward the professors, sharply aware of the pulsing between my legs, fighting images of myself tangled in rumpled sheets with Archer on top of me, his deep voice whispering all sorts of dirty things in my ear.

  Oh, no. No.

  I stopped and forced myself to smile at the professors, the sight of them effectively killing any hot fantasies still lingering in my mind.

  “Archer.” I grabbed Archer’s sleeve and pulled him forward, feeling like I was bringing the sexiest bad boy in school to a math club meeting. “I’d like you to meet the other professors in the Meteorology department. Gentlemen, this is Archer West, Dean West’s brother.”

  I made the introductions. Archer was polite, though I sensed his edginess, his feeling of being in the wrong place, a fish out of water. So different from Dean, who always navigated these events with easy self-assurance, making everyone feel like the center of his attention. That was why I usually brought him—he did the work so I didn’t have to.

  But Dean wasn’t as captivating a date as Archer West. Not even close.

  “What do you do?” James Margate asked Archer.

  He hesitated for half a second, so brief I wondered if I was the only one who noticed.

  “I repair bikes,” he said.

  “Where?” James asked. “My son just learned how to ride without training wheels.”

  “No, I mean motorcycles. I repair motorcycles.”

  “Oh.” James looked a little embarrassed. “That’s… uh, that’s cool.”

  “Archer is visiting from Nevada,” I interjected. “Weren’t you in Vegas recently, James?”

  “Yes, for the climate change conference.” James launched into a recap of the conference.

  A few minutes later, the dinner announcement saved us all from further conversation. Archer and I were seated at a table with Chancellor Radcliffe and his wife, plus most of the other meteorology professors.

  Archer held my chair out for me before taking his own seat, which I found vaguely irritating. On top of being so sexy he had me wanting to rip off my panties right then and there, he also apparently had some gentlemanly instincts. That was a deadly combination. I’d need every defense in my arsenal to withstand it.

  “Professor March, I understand the university board is reviewing your tenure application and file,” Chancellor Radcliffe said, looking at me from across the table. A broad-shouldered, bearded man, he possessed a natural air of authority. “I hope to receive their recommendation soon.”

  I hoped he did, too. When he made the final decision, I would finally learn my fate at King’s.

  “I understand there was some concern about your teaching commitments,” Radcliffe remarked, “and the fulfillment of your contract at King’s, due to your preoccupation with a research project.”

  My stomach knotted. “I’m very committed to King’s, sir. You’ll find a statement to that effect in my file.”

  I straightened in preparation for more self-defense, but Radcliffe was distracted by the serving of the salad course. I turned to the woman beside me, Stan’s wife, and asked about her nursing job so I wouldn’t have to speak to the chancellor again.

  I became acutely conscious of Archer’s presence on my other side, his voice both deep and cordial as he talked to whoever was sitting beside him.

  When the main course was served, I turned to the food. Archer picked up his fork and poked at the fish wrapped in parchment.

  “Fish en papillote,” I said.

  “What?”

  “That’s what it’s called. It’s a cooking technique of wrapping the fish in parchment. It seals in the moisture.”

  His mouth tightened a little. “I knew that.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  “You thought I didn’t.” It wasn’t a question.

  “No, I just…” I flushed when I realized that was exactly what I’d thought, and I didn’t like that he’d called me out. “You were looking at it like… well, never mind.”

  “Like I didn’t know what it was or how to eat it.”

  His irritation fueled my own. My skin got hot.

  “Well, it’s not like you can get it at McDonald’s,” I replied tartly.

  He laughed. His amusement didn’t make me any less on edge. I felt him looking at me before he leaned closer, lowering his voice, his shoulder pressing against mine.

  A wave of heat poured over me as I turned to look directly into his eyes. Thunderclouds. Lightning bolts.

  “Do you ever let go, storm girl?” he murmured in a voice so low I had to ease even closer, determined not to be afraid of whatever he was going to say.

  “Ever lose control?” he asked, his gaze tracking over my face. “Ever surrender?”

  A thousand shivers fell through me even as I steeled my spine. I didn’t take my eyes from his. I saw myself reflected in his dark pupils. I shook my head.

  “Never,” I whispered. “I never surrender.”

  A smile curved his beautiful mouth, a smile of both promise and warning. “You will.”

  I stared at him, shaken by the sense that he spoke the truth.

  Muttering an excuse, I pushed my chair back and hurried to the ladies’ room. After pressing a damp paper towel on my neck to cool my overheated skin, I gave myself a firm glare in the mirror.

  “Get it together, Kelsey,” I muttered. “He’ll be gone soon. You don’t have time for hi
m. Even if you did, you know it would end badly.”

  Still, as I walked back to the main hall, a little devil inside me prodded hard, again pushing me for reasons to deny what I so obviously wanted.

  Why not have fun with him while he’s here?

  Because I’m a professor up for tenure who doesn’t have time to mess around.

  He’s only here for a couple of weeks. He admitted that he’s staying for you. It’s not like either of you would ever expect anything more.

  I still don’t have time. Or the inclination.

  Not even if he makes you hotter than any man ever has?

  Not even then.

  Not even if you haven’t had sex in so long you’re about to explode with sheer frustration?

  Not even then.

  Not even if there are no strings attached, no holds barred, no stone left unturned?

  Not even then.

  Not even if you know it would be hot, sweaty, dirty, and sexy as all hell?

  Oh, god. Not even then.

  Not even if you’re aching to touch him, to feel his hands on you, to spread your legs so he can—

  No! Not even then!

  You’re a fucking idiot, Kelsey March.

  After I regained my composure, I returned to the dinner and took my seat. I was grateful to discover that the conversation at the table had again turned to the Vegas climate change conference.

  “The conference was sponsored by SciTech.” Philip Harris glanced at me. “You didn’t go, Kelsey?”

  Irritation crawled up my neck. “You know I didn’t.”

  “You should go to the next one,” James advised. “Get yourself back into SciTech’s good graces.”

  “I don’t need SciTech.”

  Philip lifted an eyebrow. “You have other funding options for the Spiral Project?”

  An unpleasant strain threaded the air. I felt Archer tense beside me. Though the condescending attitude from male scientists still rankled me, I’d become accustomed to it. Of course, not all of them were like that, but my colleagues had been competing with me for seven years, and they knew that most of the time, I got what I wanted.

  Which was the reason they were enjoying my failure with the Spiral Project.

  “I’ve sent out my proposal to several other agencies,” I told Philip. “When the project is funded again, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

  “What is the project?” Archer asked.

  “It’s a proposal to fund a fully mobile unit to track and study tornados,” I explained. “I want to learn how tornados actually form so we can better predict them. That would have a huge impact on response times and potentially save lives and property.”

  “Ambitious,” Archer remarked.

  I almost smiled. “Yes.”

  “How many investigators have you included in the proposal?” James asked.

  “At least fifty, including grad students.”

  “And you would all go on the road with the unit?” Archer asked.

  “The others would do the fieldwork,” I said. “I’d stay at King’s to assimilate the data from a home base.”

  “The problem is she hasn’t gotten anyone else on board yet, except for her students,” Philip told Archer. “If she had some evidence that it could work, people would be interested, but so far it’s a failure.”

  “Like the light bulb,” Archer said.

  Everyone looked at him with faint confusion.

  “The light bulb?” Philip repeated.

  “Yeah. Thomas Edison failed a thousand times before he invented the light bulb. He actually said he hadn’t failed. He’d just found a thousand ways that didn’t work before he found one that did. So if this is Professor March’s first failure with the Spiral Project, it’s only a matter of time before she succeeds.”

  A glow of appreciation sparked beneath my heart.

  “I guarantee you, Mr. West, that no scientific funding agency will support her through a thousand failures,” Philip said.

  “I guarantee you, Dr. Harris, that Professor March won’t fail a thousand times,” Archer replied. “And if the agencies won’t fund her project, she’ll find another way.”

  The men all looked at him. No one else spoke. The glow intensified, surrounding my heart with a nimbus of light.

  Another way.

  “Professor March isn’t afraid to fail,” Archer continued. “That’s an admirable quality in a scientist. In anyone. You could all learn a lesson from her.” He pushed his chair back. “Now if you’ll excuse us, we have another commitment.”

  We did?

  I was so caught off guard that I didn’t think to protest as Archer went to retrieve our jackets. I managed to say a few quick goodbyes before we left.

  I breathed in the evening air, grateful to be away from the noise of the gathering and the company of my colleagues. Archer and I walked toward the parking lot.

  I wondered if he sensed that I’d always been on my own when it came to defending myself and my research. In fact, this was the first time I hadn’t felt alone.

  “Thank you,” I said. “For what you did in there.”

  Archer shrugged. “I just told them the truth.”

  He wouldn’t give anyone anything but the truth. I knew that with an instinct as old as time. It was only one of the reasons I was so attracted to him.

  “She’ll find another way,” he’d said.

  What if that was also the truth? What if there was another way to fund the Spiral Project? What if I did find it?

  I brushed my hand against Archer’s sleeve, right where the cuff exposed the skin of his wrist.

  “I appreciate what you did,” I said. “More than I can say.”

  There were a lot of things I felt around him that couldn’t be expressed with words.

  We crossed a patch of grass toward my car.

  “So, I’ll drop you off wherever you’re staying.” I dug into my purse for the keys. “Or you can drop yourself off, since you’ll probably insist on driving again.”

  Archer extended his hand. I put the keys in his palm. I wondered why I wasn’t fighting his overbearing attitude more strongly. Why it felt almost good to have him insist on taking the reins. I went around to the passenger side and waited for him to unlock the doors.

  Stopping on the driver’s side, he leaned his arms on the roof.

  “You know of any clubs around here?” he asked.

  “Clubs?”

  “Someplace we could listen to some good music. Get a drink. Shake off the professors and small talk and whatever the fuck that fish was.”

  I smiled. The long-suppressed pleasure of spontaneity rose in me at the thought of heading out for a night on the town.

  I tried to think. There were a bunch of clubs on the outskirts of downtown that students frequented, but I didn’t want to go somewhere I might see one of them. Professor March didn’t hang out at noisy clubs, drinking and dancing with hot, sexy biker guys.

  She didn’t frequent bars where she stripped such men with her eyes before blatantly stroking their tattoos and sinking into a kiss that—

  Professor March didn’t do that.

  I took a breath. My heartbeat ratcheted up a notch.

  “I should…” I should go home. That was what I meant to say. Instead, I said, “I should be able to find somewhere we can go.”

  “Good.” He shot me a smile, so warm and striking that I could almost feel my defenses falling away. He’d shed his jacket and tie, and now wore just the trousers and white shirt, unbuttoned at the collar to reveal the strong, tanned column of his throat.

  “Thanks for coming with me tonight,” I said as we got in the car. “I know it’s not your kind of gathering. Not really mine, either, truth be told.”

  “So why do you go?”

  “I have to.
Professional networking with the board of trustees and the chancellor. With the final tenure decision coming up, I need to prove I’m a team player.”

  “Are you?”

  “No. But if you hum a few bars, I’ll fake it.”

  He laughed. The warm, rich sound stirred through me, making me feel like I’d just sipped a hot café mocha on a snowy night.

  “So where are we going?” he asked.

  I pulled up the browser on my phone to find a place. After directing Archer onto the highway leading to Rainwood, he exited near the downtown area.

  We parked and walked to the Queen of Hearts club. The sidewalks were crowded with people out on a Saturday night. Laughter and music filtered through the air. Archer rested his hand on the small of my back as we wove through the crowd.

  I appreciated that he gave me some space. I’d never liked it when men tried to hold my hand as we walked or put their arm heavily around my shoulders, as if they had to prove they were manly and protective. Archer didn’t have to prove anything. He just was.

  He guided me into the club and paid the cover fee. Inside, colored lights lit the darkness, and couples gyrated on the dance floor. A reggae band was onstage, the rhythmic sounds of Caribbean music thumping.

  After getting drinks, we found an empty table. Again, Archer sat close to me, but not too close. It was like he knew I still had boundaries and wouldn’t cross them.

  Unless I wanted him to.

  Which I didn’t.

  Not even if he would make you ache and throb and probably scream—

  Shut up.

  I took a swallow of wine and turned my attention to the band. The reggae music was stimulating, the bass line thick and heavy. The beat of the snare drum began to echo inside me.

  Archer leaned closer to my ear, raising his voice above the din. “Dance?”

  I smiled and nodded. I hadn’t danced in ages, but there had been a time when not a weekend passed that I wasn’t out on the dance floor. Until I hit the straight and narrow with a precision that a laser would have envied. Anything fun got tossed to the wayside as I worked my way through grad school and post-doc positions.