But when Wes reached up to cup his cheek, he froze. “What’re you doing?”
“It’s okay. I pulled the curtain when I came out. Nobody can see us.”
“But—” Wes’s lips on his stifled Connor’s protest. Soft lips that felt every bit as sensual and lush as they looked, his moist, velvety tongue sweeping inside Connor’s mouth. He hadn’t been kissed like this—or at all—in ages. Weaving on his feet, he staggered back to grab hold of the railing. Wes followed, refusing to break their lip-lock until Connor pushed him away. “Jesus, give me a chance to breathe!”
“Sorry.” Wes smiled, arm looping around Connor’s waist. “Can’t blame me for a little enthusiasm, right? I’ve been thinking about this ever since you walked in.”
Connor gaped at him. “You mean, you came out here intending to . . .”
“What can I say? I’ve got a thing for brilliant ginger-haired guys with glasses.” Wes’s other hand skimmed down Connor’s torso to his crotch, Connor’s rising erection cradled in his palm. A tiny squeeze, and Connor’s hot flush rose from his collar to his hairline.
When Wes began fumbling with his fly, Connor almost leaned back and let him do it. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt someone else’s hand on his cock—and, God help him, the thought of those pink, pink lips swallowing him down nearly made him come on the spot—but no, he couldn’t. This kid was younger than most of his students, for Christ’s sake.
“Stop it!” He slapped Wes’s hands away, then yanked his zipper back up. “I don’t know what made you think I wanted this, but . . . I don’t.” Liar, his mind—and his still-hard cock—shouted, though Wes’s mortified expression served as a pretty damn effective bucket of ice over his head.
“Sorry,” Wes murmured, stepping back. “I mean, he said you . . .”
“He? What the hell are you talking about?”
“No one. I made a mistake. I’ll go.” He practically sprinted for the door.
Hands trembling, Connor lit another cigarette and inhaled slowly until his erection subsided and the night air stuck a chilly finger down the back of his collar. Shivering, he went back inside. He scanned the room for Wes, heart sinking when he didn’t see him. Not that he’d expected him to stick around after what’d happened.
Might as well have another drink or three. It was the only way he’d make it through the rest of this crappy evening.
Connor woke with a half-assed headache, eyes burning and gritty. He rolled to his feet with a groan and trudged into the kitchen to make coffee. The second he turned on the auto-drip, his cell phone buzzed.
Of course it was Steve. He considered letting it go to voicemail, but what was the point? He’d just have to call him back later. Punching the “answer” button, he croaked, “What?”
“’Bout time you were up. I’ve already left you two messages.” Steve’s bemused tone made Connor want to reach through the line and smack the living shit out of him. “Guess you enjoyed yourself last night, huh?”
“You know damn well I didn’t. And if you ever try anything like that again, I really will throttle you.”
“What about that cute guy I saw following you onto the balcony? The two of you were out there for a while. You trying to tell me nothing happened?”
The coffee maker beeped. Connor took a moment to pour himself a cup and stir in some sugar. Anything to avoid talking about one of the most embarrassing evenings of his life. “Nothing important. Let’s just leave it at that.”
“Uh-huh. You’re not palming me off with that bullshit. C’mon, spill.”
Another sigh. “I don’t want to get into it.”
“Too bad. You know I’m gonna keep hammering at you until you tell me.”
That much was true. Steve was a fucking pit bull when it came to sussing out a mystery. It was what made him such a gifted scientist—and an absolutely infuriating friend. Connor took a long, heavenly gulp of French roast, then figured he might as well save himself the time and aggravation. “Nothing happened,” he said slowly, “though not for lack of trying on his part.”
“So he put the moves on you, and you turned him down? Jesus, Conn, you’re such a fucking chump.”
“He’s a student. It’s not exactly ethical.”
“He’s not your student.”
“Not yet, but he wants to be. What if he gets accepted into the doctoral program, and I end up having to work with him?”
“You wouldn’t be the first professor who’d slept with one of his students. It happens all the time.”
Connor almost choked on his next sip. “It doesn’t happen to me all the time. And besides, I’d like to keep my job.”
“You think they’ll fire you over sex with another consenting adult when you’re one of the biggest draws the physics department’s got? Not to mention all the grants and patents you’ve racked up?” Steve huffed. “Your problem is you think too much. Get out of your damn head and go experience life. I can’t believe you’re still slumming it in that glorified dorm when you could buy a condo in my building and still have enough money to live like a fucking pharaoh.”
Connor’s gaze meandered around the room, taking in his paper-strewn desk, walls lined with crammed bookshelves, the battered leather couch and Turkish throw rug he’d had since he’d moved in as a grad student. Sure, he could afford a better place, but he was comfortable here. Why the hell should he leave? “An overpriced condo’s not gonna make me happy. I’ve already got everything I need.”
“Except someone to share it with.”
“Like you and your dozens of conquests? Don’t make me laugh.”
“At least I’m not sleeping alone every night.”
Ouch. “Is there a reason you called? Other than to insult me?”
“Yeah, actually, there is. I’ve just emailed you the finalized PowerPoint file for next weekend. Which you’ll be delivering on your own, by the way. They’ve scheduled it opposite that breakfast meeting with our Japanese investors. Before you freak out, I’ve tried to get them to change it, but the powers-that-be won’t budge. And the Noriyuki people are flying back to Tokyo that afternoon, so either way, we’re stuck.”
Connor set down his mug, his stomach doing flip-flops. “Great. Thanks for giving me a whole week to stress about it.”
“Figured you’d want plenty of time to prepare. Listen, you’re gonna be fine. You know this stuff inside out.”
“We’ll see . . .”
“You don’t have any problem talking in front of a class. Why’s this conference any different?”
“Thirty-five students as opposed to fifteen hundred colleagues and potential investors? Yeah, you’re right. No difference at all.” He sighed and rubbed his eyes, his headache ramping up to eleven. “I’ll probably have to get half-sloshed to get through it.”
“Hey, if you’d rather spend the morning schmoozing with Hideo Noriyuki and his cronies, I’d be happy to switch places.”
Talk about being caught between a rock and an even bigger rock. “Okay, okay, I’ll do it. But you owe me big time.”
“I’ll make sure all you have to do is show up and talk, all right?” Steve chuckled. “Which means you should go take a look at that damn PowerPoint file.”
“Fine.” He clicked the “end” button and tossed the phone on the counter. Terrific, just fucking terrific. As if next weekend wouldn’t be stressful enough without the entire presentation riding on his shoulders. He could hit the highlights, but he didn’t have Steve’s gift of gab. In fact, he’d count himself lucky if he managed not to literally fall on his face.
He drained the last of his lukewarm coffee, set his mug in the sink, and stretched, his cramped muscles popping. He took a couple of Tylenol, washed down with water straight from the tap, and his stomach started to growl when the water hit it. One of those greasy cheese and bacon omelets from that café down the street sounded really good. A walk in the fresh air would probably help clear his head, too. Might even take his mind off everything he had t
o worry about for the next fucking week.
Connor checked into the Fourth Street Marriott on Friday morning, dropped his bags in his room, and headed downstairs to register for the conference. Normally he’d drive home and save the extra expense, but Steve had insisted that they spend their evenings wining and dining more prospective investors. Just what he needed after attending seminars and talking shop all day, but he’d long since learned to let Steve call the shots where business was concerned.
As luck would have it, Steve flagged him down in the lobby, darting past a bellhop pushing an overloaded luggage cart. “Hey. Did you just get here?”
“A few minutes ago.” He had to raise his voice to be heard above all the business-suited academics thronging toward the escalators. “Jesus, it’s already a madhouse.”
“No shit. We’d better get down there before the line’s backed up out the door.”
Too late. The registration tables outside the main ballroom were mobbed, although the line for presenters went fairly quickly. They got their badges and schedules, then one of the organizers pulled Steve aside for a moment. Dodging other attendees, Connor moved off to a quiet corner and got out his phone to check his email.
“Guess what?” Steve trotted over, all smiles. “They’re giving the presenters their own gofers for the weekend. Figured you could use some extra help with the presentation, so . . .” He shrugged and stepped aside. “Here he is.”
Connor glanced up, his phone nearly slipping from his fingers. There stood Wes, in dark slacks and an open-collared blue dress shirt that made his eyes glow like a pair of sapphires. Was it his imagination, or could he actually see Wes’s pulse throbbing beneath that patch of creamy skin at the base of his throat? Was he that afraid of getting rejected again?
“That won’t be necessary,” Connor said, eyes flicking from Wes to Steve and back again. “I can handle it on my own.”
“That’s not what you said the other day.” They turned away as Steve leaned in close, his voice dropping to a murmur. “Look, you’ve been a wreck all week. Let him help so you don’t run yourself ragged. It’s the least they can do after the snafu with the presentation time. And besides . . .” He jerked his thumb in Wes’s direction. “The kid asked to be assigned to you. I mean, look at him! He’s practically got stars in his eyes.”
“Yeah, I noticed the other night.”
Steve did a double-take. “He’s the one who followed you onto the balcony?”
“Don’t you recognize him?”
“Jesus, Conn, I’d had three double scotches by then. I wouldn’t have recognized my own fucking reflection.” He sighed. “You gonna tell him you don’t want him, or shall I?”
Talk about an unfortunate choice of words. Connor rubbed his hands on his slacks and stifled the urge to scream. Why did all this shit have to land on him, when he hadn’t done a damn thing to prompt it? “Say there’s been a mistake. They’ll find something else for him to do.”
“That still doesn’t solve the problem of getting you some help.”
“I don’t need any help!”
“The hell you don’t. We’ve got a whole weekend to get through, and you’re already unraveling. Just take a step back and reconsider, okay? So he made a pass the other night and you shut him down. So what? You’re both big boys. I’m sure you can find a way to work together.”
Oh, smooth move. Steve had made it impossible for him to say no without sounding unreasonable. “All right,” he relented. “I’ll let him follow me around for a few hours. But if it doesn’t pan out, I don’t want to hear another fucking word about it.”
“Fair enough.” Steve clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m gonna sit in on the laser holography seminar. Catch you later.”
He walked away, leaving Connor standing there with Wes’s eyes boring holes in his back. Finally, he turned around. “I assume I can trust you to keep this professional?”
“Absolutely.” Wes nodded, the corners of his mouth quirking upward. “I’m here to help any way I can.”
“Fine, then. Go get me some coffee. Black, two sugars. I’ll be at the LightTools demo in conference room A.”
The room was already pretty full, so Connor took a seat in the last row, his mind wandering before the demo even started. As if he didn’t have enough to be anxious about with his own presentation looming, now he had to deal with some hero-worshipping student trailing him like a lost puppy. He considered retreating to his room, until Wes showed up with a grande cup, a couple of napkins, and a small brown bag.
“It’s a blueberry scone,” Wes whispered, pointing to the bag as he plopped down two seats over. “Thought you might be hungry.”
Connor didn’t find the demo terribly interesting, but Wes hung on every word, tapping away at his phone with mad double-thumb action, trying to get it all down. He was the first to raise his hand when the Q&A session started, jumping to his feet to ask a question complex enough that Connor would’ve been surprised to hear it from a grad student. Impressed, he finished chewing the last bite of his scone, listening as Wes asked an equally sharp follow-up question. Where the hell had this kid come from? Connor usually kept his ears open for news of rising stars in his department, but he hadn’t so much as heard Wes’s name before the party last week.
That’s what he got for burying himself in his work the last few months. The entire campus could’ve burned down around him, and he wouldn’t even have noticed. Stifling a sigh, he got up and wandered out into the hallway to check his messages. He already had a text from Steve, asking how everything was going.
The session let out a few minutes later. Wes emerged ahead of the crowd, glancing around frantically until he saw Connor leaning against the wall. “Sorry,” he said, dashing right over. “I didn’t even realize you’d left.”
“You seemed pretty absorbed.” Connor pocketed his phone, then flipped open his schedule. “That was an intriguing question you asked. Way above a senior’s pay grade.”
Wes shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets, his pale cheeks going pink. God, he looked positively adorable. “I just read a lot, I guess. Try to hunt down every article on optics research that gets posted online, attend every lecture I can find. That’s why I’m so grateful they’re letting me volunteer here this weekend. There’s no way I could afford the registration fee.”
The intelligence and genuine excitement sparking in Wes’s eyes began to work its way under Connor’s skin. He remembered that look shining back at him in the mirror when he’d been Wes’s age. Every now and then, he’d still feel that heady elation when he talked about his work with someone equally enthusiastic. Someone who knew, and understood. Just like on the balcony with Wes.
“Where to now, Professor?”
A moment’s hesitation, then Connor tugged his room key from his pocket. “I’m in 818. Run up and get my laptop. I’ll be in the lobby.”
Wes stared at the card, eyes wide. “You trust me to go into your room?”
“Any reason I shouldn’t?”
“No, of course not, I just thought—”
Connor threw him a mock-serious look. “If you’re planning to be my shadow for the rest of the weekend, you’d better get used to fetching and carrying. Hop to it. I’ve got some work to catch up on.”
Wes grinned. “Yes, sir.”
Connor preferred peace and quiet while he worked, but today he seemed to feed off the flurry of intellectual energy in the air. The constant hustle-bustle in the hotel lobby reminded him of why he still enjoyed living among physics and engineering students. All that youthful passion and enthusiasm permeating his apartment building never failed to put him in a good mood.
Strangely relaxed and focused for the first time in days despite the steady flow of hotel guests checking in and out, he chipped away at his never-ending backlog of email while Wes slouched on the opposite sofa, tapping idly on his phone. When Connor’s stomach began to growl, he cast a glance at his watch, amazed to discover it was closing in on four. They’d
been out here all afternoon, but it’d felt more like half an hour.
He shut his laptop and slid it back in its bag. “You hungry?”
Wes looked up, blinking. “Um, yeah, I could eat, but . . .”
“But what?”
“I really can’t afford anything at the hotel. The concierge said there’s a food court in the shopping center a couple blocks down.”
“Fine with me.” Connor stood, slinging his laptop bag over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”
It was the usual strip mall array of Chinese, Mexican, pizza, and burger joints, but thankfully none of the lines were too long. They settled on burgers and managed to snag a table in a relatively quiet corner. Wes nibbled at his fries, staring down into his paper plate, eyelids drooping. Looked like he was ready to keel over. Well, he was a student, after all. Probably out partying every night.
“Am I keeping you awake?” Connor joked.
Wes gave a start, then laughed. “It’s been a busy couple of months.”
“And school hasn’t even started yet.”
“Don’t remind me. I probably won’t sleep again ’til after graduation.” He bit into his burger, then chased it with a long gulp of soda.
“There’s no law that says you have to stay up drinking all hours.”
Wes stared at him. “Oh, no, that’s not what I— Believe me, I wish I was having fun. This is the exact opposite. Most of the time, anyway.” He flashed Connor a tiny smile.
“What, so you’re working? And planning to carry a full schedule of classes too?”
Wes nodded.
“Well, my hat’s off to you. Senior year’s stressful enough without adding a job to the mix. At least, that’s how I remember it back in the old horse-and-buggy days when I was an undergrad.”
“I don’t have much of a choice. Unless some rich guy decides to sponsor my tuition.” He laughed again, this time with a bitter edge. When Connor didn’t join in, he added, “Never mind. Bad joke.”
“No scholarship or financial aid? What about your family? Can’t they help?” As soon as he said it, he wished he hadn’t. Wes’s life wasn’t any of his business.
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