by Talia Hunter
If he was still willing to have dinner with her, she could find a way to ask him about the things that had gone missing from her room. Would he admit to what he’d done, or would he try to laugh it off? Perhaps he’d apologize, not that any apology could make up for how he’d hurt her. Still, he deserved a chance to confess his crime, and she wanted to be looking into his eyes when he did.
Caylee gave her reflection a final nod and took the elevator down to the conference facility on the first floor. She collected her name tag and conference program from the desk inside the big entrance room, and looked around the crowded space. It was mostly filled with men, with only a few women. It was a shame that the field of mathematics seemed to appeal mostly to men—she would have liked to work with more women.
As she stared around the sea of male faces, Caylee wished she was better at mingling. She had to at least find Dr. Partington and really she should network as much as she could; there were bound to be other people she should try to impress. Lots of industry heavyweights would be attending, including some mathematicians who’d made important discoveries. There’d also be representatives from other funding agencies, although with the economy the way it was, it was unlikely she’d be able to attract other investment. No, far better to try to keep her current funding, and that meant smiling at the doctor and speaking clearly and coherently about her work.
She asked the official who was handing out programs if he knew Dr. Partington, and he pointed out a tall, slim man talking to two other men. Caylee took a deep breath as she walked up to him.
“Dr. Partington? Hello. I’m Caylee Reynolds.”
“Ah. Hello.” He excused himself from the other men with a polite nod, then offered her his hand to shake. He was very neatly dressed with tidy brown hair. Under one arm was a notebook in a hard folder with three pens neatly clipped to the front: blue, black, and red. He handed her a business card. Dr. B. S. D. Partington, Mathematics Research Foundation. Chairman. As he shook her hand, his gaze dropped away from hers and did a lightning-quick scan of her body. She stiffened. If there was one thing she hated, it was men who thought she wouldn’t notice if they checked her out. She wasn’t blind.
But as he released her hand, he gave her such an innocent smile that she wondered if she’d been mistaken. Perhaps she’d misread his look.
“Now, Miss Reynolds, you’ve been doing research on the Golden Ratio, if I’m not mistaken?” he asked.
“That’s right. It’s very interesting work, and your predecessor thought my research held considerable merit, especially in the—”
“My predecessor is no longer in charge,” he interrupted. “Future funding decisions are up to me.”
Caylee flushed. “Of course, Dr. Partington. I realize you’re—”
“So from now on it’s me, and not my predecessor, you’ll have to impress.”
Could she really have thought his smile looked innocent? His eyes were small and slitted, like a snake’s. How could she possibly impress a man who didn’t think enough of her to let her finish a sentence?
Caylee took a breath, gathering her self-control, and tried again. “I look forward to presenting my research so you can see how much progress I’ve been making over the last four years. I hope you will be very impressed.”
“Do you really think you can compete with the other mathematicians who’re also looking for funding? I’ve just met two young professors who are working on a proof of the twin prime conjecture. They assure me they’re close to a solution that will be both elegant and definitive.” He nodded at a pair of men in faded denim and sneakers who were fiddling with an electronic tablet. One of them wore a T-shirt printed with fake muscles and the word “Mathlete.” They looked like they’d been on their way to a frat party when they took a wrong turn.
“But lots of mathematicians hope to solve one of the classic math problems. It’s a lofty dream, but—”
“A dream not worthy of funding?”
“It’s just that these kinds of problems get all the focus, but they’re do or die problems. You either have the answer, or you don’t.”
“And?”
“And many great minds have worked on these problems for hundreds of years. I’ve heard colleagues say repeatedly they were close to a proof, but never manage to produce one. Surely the foundation’s aims are more in line with the kind of steady progress mathematicians like myself—”
“Steady, unspectacular progress?” His snake eyes flicked down again, as though he was passing judgment on her appearance as well as her work.
“Be that as it may, I think…” Caylee’s voice was getting louder, and she softened it with an effort. “I mean, you can be assured—”
“Every mathematician here is looking for financial support. However, it’s just not possible to please everyone, is it, Miss Reynolds? There are those who think our field isn’t exciting and bold, but I intend to prove them wrong by ushering in a new era of mathematical progress.” He sniffed. “Of course, I’ll take what you have to say under full consideration.”
He turned away, summarily dismissing her, and was immediately greeted by another attendee with a smile and an outstretched hand. No doubt someone else who wanted her funding. Caylee clenched her teeth as she glared at the snake-man’s back. She should spend some time networking and introducing herself to the other conference members but, the way she felt, she’d be as likely to punch someone as shake their hand. No, she had to get out of here and cool down.
…
Caylee was in the living room when Blake walked into the suite. Her hands clenched as she wheeled to face the door and her green eyes fired a machine gun glare. What was she so mad about? Surely not the kiss? What else could have happened in the time it took him to wash the jet boat down and put it away?
“Are you okay, Caylee?” he asked.
Her cheeks were flushed. “I’m sick and tired of bullies!”
Blake reeled back, the shock of her words like ice water on his skin. He swallowed hard. He’d go and stay with John and Jenna, and to hell with their privacy. They’d be married in a couple of days; they could have privacy for the next fifty years. And screw the phone call to Indonesia he needed to make. He’d call from John and Jenna’s room. The delays over there could hardly get any worse.
“I’m just here to get my things. I’ll be out of your way in a minute.” He crossed to the bedroom and heard her drag in a long ragged breath.
“I wasn’t talking about you, Blake. You’re not really going to leave, are you?”
“I’d prefer to stay with my friends.”
“Don’t go.”
He turned to face her. She took another deep breath and her hands unclenched. The hard green of her eyes softened.
“I’m sorry, Blake. Really, I meant someone else. Please don’t leave.” Her cheeks were still red. “I’m sorry about before as well. I was rude to you on the boat.”
Rude? He’d kissed her and she’d practically torn his head off. She couldn’t have made it any clearer she didn’t want anything to do with him and, from now on, he was going to stay the hell away from her. “It’s better if I go.”
She sat down heavily in an armchair and dragged a hand over her face. “It wasn’t you,” she said again. As she pulled her hand away, he saw her expression had dropped from rage into misery. She looked so small and vulnerable nestled in the bulky, masculine chair that his heart contracted.
Blake took the seat next to her. He put one finger under her chin and tilted her head up so he could look into her eyes. “Who upset you?”
“Dr. Partington. He’s the new head of the foundation that funds my research.” As soon as he dropped his hand, she stared at the floor, blinking at her feet as though forcing herself not to cry. “Or who used to fund my research. After meeting him earlier, I doubt I’m going to get one more cent.”
“Then he’s a damn idiot.” Blake clenched his teeth at the thought of some pompous professor reducing Caylee to tears.
“My r
esearch will be canned. The last four years of hard work will be put into a cardboard box and stored on a shelf somewhere, and I’ll be left with nothing.”
“The fool doesn’t deserve you. Isn’t there somewhere else you can get funding?”
She sighed. “Not without some kind of miracle. If he’d only renew my funding for another year, I know I could finish the research paper I’m writing and get it published. But Dr. Partington isn’t going to give me a chance. When he pulls my funding I’ll have no career, no paper, nothing to show for the last four years of my life.”
“What’s Partington’s problem?”
“He wants modern and exciting. I’m dull and boring. He took one look at me and decided he didn’t like what he saw. He didn’t even give me a chance to tell him about my research before judging me.”
Blake couldn’t help himself. She looked so miserable, her normally determined expression now a mask of despair. He took her hand, nestling her small fingers between his much larger ones. Her gaze came up to meet his, her eyes as liquid as if they held an entire sea in them.
“My research means everything to me. Losing my funding would be devastating.”
Blake’s hand tightened around hers. “He wants exciting? Fine, let’s give it to him. Come on.” He tugged her to her feet.
“Come on where?”
“You’ll see.”
He refused to say any more as they rode down to the lobby. But when she saw he was leading her toward the small hair salon next to the souvenir store, her steps faltered.
“A haircut?” she asked. “How’s that going to help?”
“Not just a haircut. Sebastian’s one hell of a stylist.” He reached up and tugged the end of her long, tight braid like he used to do when they were kids. “Professor Pompous judged you on how you looked? Then changing your look might help change his mind.”
“But—”
He took a firm grip of her arm. “No buts. Leave it to me.” He guided her into the salon and sat her in front of the mirror.
Sebastian greeted them enthusiastically. He was a short, round man with gray hair and whiskers, but Blake knew how lucky they were to have him at the resort. Their female guests always raved about the salon, often joking about how much they wished they could take him home with them.
As Sebastian loosened Caylee’s braid and ran his fingers through her long, shiny hair, Blake watched with envy. He’d love to run his own hands through those luscious brown locks. As a teenager he’d annoy her by yanking her braid and stealing her hair tie, mostly because he liked it when she wore it loose. Finally out of its tight restraint and tumbling over her shoulders, Caylee’s hair looked every bit as tempting as it had back then.
Blake fixed Sebastian with a mock glare. “Make her look modern and exciting, but if you cut too much off you’ll be answering to me.”
Sebastian clucked his tongue. “Soft around the front, to show off her beautiful face. And some gentle layers to bring out her lovely curls, yes?”
“Exactly,” Blake agreed.
“Excuse me, don’t I get a say?” demanded Caylee.
Blake grinned at her indignant tone. Maybe he’d wanted to see her with her hair down for his own selfish reasons, but he knew how to convince her he was right. “I heard there were studies proving that attractive people are hired quicker, get more promotions, and are better paid. And they’re more likely to get funding. Or at least get a chance to prove they deserve it.”
She crossed her arms, challenging him with her eyes. “I’ve never thought I had to be pretty to be taken seriously.”
“You’re beautiful, Caylee. But that blind asshole of a doctor obviously needs to be hit in the face with how modern and exciting you are, and that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”
Sebastian nodded. “Trust me, my dear.” Blake stood aside to let the short man swish a waterproof cape over her and fasten it around her neck. “I’ll give you a style that looks fabulous whether you wear it up or down. The best of both worlds, yes?”
Caylee didn’t object as Sebastian led her to the wash station. He’d take a while to wash and style her hair, and in the meantime Blake could make his call to Indonesia. It wasn’t too late to make some hard decisions and get the building schedule back on track. He stepped out of the salon to call the site manager and barely refrained from swearing when he heard the latest disaster. One of the drainage lines had been damaged, and replacing it would put them further behind. If Blake had been there, he’d have made sure it had been laid properly in the first place.
Blake made a few more calls, and when he was finished he let out some colorful curses. Every resort he’d built had its challenges, but this one was by far the worst. Maybe it was because his heart wasn’t entirely in it anymore. How rich did he have to be anyway, to cancel out his past? How rich did he have to be to deserve Caylee?
Hell, where had that thought come from? He gave a low growl. How had Caylee gotten him so twisted up? He wasn’t building the resort for anyone but himself, and he didn’t need to prove a damn thing to her.
He stomped back to the hair salon. All the memories she’d stirred up were messing with his head. The fact that he’d never been able to say good-bye to her when he’d left all those years ago was weighing on him. The only solution was to do everything he could to make sure she got her funding. Then he could leave for Indonesia with a clear conscience.
The thought vanished as he stepped into the salon and saw her.
“Wow,” he breathed. Her hair tumbled down from a center part into loose curls that bounced on her shoulders. Wispy strands framed her face, and somehow they made her eyes seem darker and her features more delicate. He’d never seen her look so beautiful, and that was saying something.
She gave him a self-conscious smile. “You like it?”
Instead of answering, he clapped Sebastian on the shoulder. “You’re a genius.”
The short man bowed his head modestly. “It’s easy with such a lovely subject.” He unclipped the cape from Caylee’s neck and gave her hair a quick spray before she stood up.
Blake took her arm. “Next step is to change before you go back to the conference. I’m going to pick out something that will make that doctor sit up and pay attention.”
She glanced down at herself and frowned. “What’s wrong with this?”
“Nothing, that’s the problem.” He knew his enigmatic answer would annoy her, but he loved it when her eyes sparked. “Come on.”
He guided her back into the elevator and up to his apartment. She was biting her lip, obviously holding back complaints about his behavior. Hell, now he remembered why he’d spent so much time annoying her as a teenager. If only she wasn’t so sexy when she was angry.
Left to her own devices, she’d put on the most boring and plain pieces of clothing he’d bought her, but now he pulled a red dress out of her wardrobe. She eyed it doubtfully.
“Blake, I’m not sure that’s appropriate for the conference.”
“It’s perfect. The red will match the fire in your eyes when you march up to Professor Pompous and tell him exactly why you deserve your funding.”
A smile ghosted around her lips. “When did you get so convincing?”
He smirked. “Oh, I’ve always been able to talk a lady out of her clothes.” Her gasp of outrage made him chuckle. “I like the way your new curls bounce when you toss your head.”
“There should be a law against men like you.”
“There is.” He held his hands out, wrists pressed together as though waiting to be cuffed. “Want to make a citizen’s arrest?”
She huffed as she pushed him out of the room and slammed the door behind him, but she was smiling.
He waited outside while she changed, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, all too aware that just behind the door, Caylee was undressing. He couldn’t get the memory of the night they’d spent together out of his head. Was it because he’d wanted it for so long that it had shaken him so deeply, or was it
because they’d fit together perfectly, like two pieces of the same puzzle finally in their right place?
He didn’t believe in fate or destiny, but that night had felt so right, nothing since had come close to matching it. Even after all these years, when he closed his eyes, he could remember how her soft, pliant mouth felt against his. The way his hands had molded around her breasts and her nipples had hardened in response. The way she’d tasted when he’d kissed the hollow at the base of her throat and felt her pulse under his lips, her heart beating fast and hard. And, most of all, he remembered the sound she’d made, a soft moan of pleasure so intense her whole body had shuddered with it. He wasn’t even sure if it was only her who had made the sound, or both of them together, but it had been implanted deep inside him. For months afterward, how often had he woken in the night, hard as a rock, with it echoing in his mind?
Blake shook his head. The memory of that night had plagued him long enough—it was time to let it go. He’d never experience anything like it again, and certainly not with Caylee. She’d be out of his life forever in just a couple of days, and that was a good thing. She was a distraction at the worst possible time, and he’d ignored the problems in Indonesia for long enough. Far safer to stick to casual relationships with women he didn’t have history with and didn’t owe anything to than to mess around with Caylee.
He opened the door to her room without knocking. She was studying herself in the mirror, smoothing the flared red skirt down with her hands. The dress fit her beautifully, and the color was sensational against her skin. There was no way any man could fail to notice her now, even an idiot like Professor Pompous.
“Modern and exciting,” Blake said. “Now put on the red shoes.”
