The Real Deal

by Lucy Monroe

  “Jacob will show you to the guest room shower and bring you some clothes to wear. I’ll see you upstairs in the great room after I’ve had my swim and shower.”

  “You won’t disappear into your lab again, will you?”

  Color burnished his taut cheekbones, but he didn’t make any promises. “I don’t think so.”

  She glared at him. “Simon, you’re a grown man. Are you, or are you not going to meet me in the great room after your swim? If you aren’t, I’d rather go home and shower.”

  “I have every intention of joining you for dinner after taking my swim.”

  She picked up her briefcase and shoved her thigh-highs into it. “Okay.”

  Jacob had materialized at the door and she turned to follow him. “I’ll see you shortly, Simon.”

  He didn’t answer and she refused to let that worry her.

  His interpersonal communication skills weren’t that great, but she’d gotten through at least a third of her presentation already. She could easily outline the last two-thirds over dinner.

  If he made it to dinner.

  Chapter 5

  She wasn’t going to wear a pair of bulky men’s sweatpants.

  This might not be Southern California, but it was early summer and the weather was warm. She had no intention of sweating it out in the thick fabric. If a niggling sense of feminine pride refused to be seen dressed like someone’s dotty old uncle that was all right, too.

  Tossing the pants aside, she picked up the charcoal gray cotton T-shirt Jacob had lent her and pulled it on. The dark color prevented her lack of a bra from being indecent. She didn’t like putting on the same pair of underwear after a shower, but she consoled herself with the knowledge that it had been the top half of her body perspiring during the workout.

  She tugged her skirt up over her hips and zipped it, before turning to look in the full-length mirror.

  The T-shirt didn’t look too bad with the skirt, but tucked in, it outlined her breasts a little too smartly. She pulled it out and the hem fell loosely around her hips. She bit her lip. That was better, but her hair was a bedraggled mess. She’d used a shower cap to keep it somewhat dry. However, that had only aided in ruining the style.

  Its customary sleek French twist was coming apart and several hanks of hair hung down her neck. She pulled out the pins she used to secure the bun and then gave it a vigorous brushing with the brush Jacob had left for her.

  She didn’t have any hairspray to smooth the style back into place, so she used a hair tie from her purse to secure it into a high ponytail on the back of her head. The ends of her hair brushed between her shoulder blades, but the tie kept it off her neck.

  Foregoing her shoes, she left them in a neat pile with the rest of her things in the bathroom. She could get them later.

  She could not imagine attending a business meeting with anyone but Simon Brant barefoot and in borrowed clothes. She could not imagine playing sparring dummy for a Tae Kwon Do session for anyone else either. Life around him was as full of eccentricities as he was.

  She liked it.

  She made her way to the great room, her feet drawing her to the wall of windows of their own accord. It was an irresistible view, the ocean looking both infinite and ever changing.

  She pressed her hand against the glass, not worried about leaving prints because of her recent shower. It was warm from the sun, its hard, smooth surface a tactile pleasure for her. How long would Simon’s swim take?

  Movement to her right caught her attention and she watched as Jacob set the table outside for dinner. He crossed the deck and disappeared into the house to her left.

  She was still standing at the window when Simon came in.

  “You should see the view when there’s a storm.” Muscles tensed and her lungs seemed to contract. All this because the man had walked into the room? She needed to get out more. Thinking back over the dearth of dates in the last two years, she amended that to she needed to get out, period.

  She forced herself to respond to what he’d said instead of her reaction to him. “I would probably be nervous. Having the only thing between me and the elements, a thin wall of glass.”

  “It’s not thin.”

  That’s right. He’d told her it was reinforced. “It’s still glass.”

  “I suppose you’d be more comfortable if there were drapes to draw across the windows so you could block out what is beyond them.” He didn’t sound condescending, just thoughtful.

  And he was right. She shrugged. “It’s not my house, so it hardly matters.” She turned to face him.

  His black hair was still wet and though it was slicked back from his face, he hadn’t confined the shoulder-length strands into a ponytail. He was wearing a pair of jeans and nothing else. Didn’t the man ever wear a shirt? With his dark skin tone, he looked like a tribal warrior.

  “Did you enjoy your swim?”

  It was his turn to shrug and the naked skin on his chest rippled with his muscle’s movement. “I don’t swim for pleasure. Doing the laps is the most efficient way to end my workout.”

  “You’re not going to convince me you don’t enjoy your martial arts sessions. You’re way too proficient just to do them for exercise. What color belt are you anyway?”

  She’d be surprised if he wasn’t a black belt.

  “Does it matter?” He was looking at her like she was a bug on a pin, all scientific curiosity and something else that could have been mistaken for male interest if she didn’t know better.

  “Not really. I’m just making conversation.” His social skills were not on par with his other abilities. For some reason, she found that rather endearing. “It would be polite for you to answer the question, unless you have some reason for not wanting to do so.”

  Two thin streaks of red burnished his high cheekbones, indicating he was aware he’d blundered in the politeness arena and was actually bothered by the fact. “I am a Grand Master Black Belt.”

  “That’s pretty impressive.”

  “Is it?” He seemed genuinely interested in her answer, the storm-cloud gray of his eyes reflecting curiosity.

  “Yes. I’m impressed anyway. It takes a lot of self-discipline and work to make it that far.”

  He appeared to contemplate that. “There wasn’t anything else to do.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I started studying Tae Kwon Do with my mother’s uncle when I was four years old. I was already in school by then with children that were older and bigger than me. I didn’t have playmates, so studying with my great-uncle gave me something to do.”

  It was hard to imagine a time when he’d been smaller than his peers. He was such a big man now. “Eric said you were a child prodigy.”

  “Yes.”

  “Was it hard always being younger than everyone around you?”

  An expression that hinted at deep loneliness and pain crossed his masculine features before he nodded briefly.

  “Jacob has put dinner on the table.”

  The abrupt change in topic jolted her.

  He stepped around her and pushed the button that slid the glass panel open. “After you.” He brought his right hand out with an Old World flourish.

  She smiled and walked by him, shocked when she felt a tug on her ponytail.

  “I like this. It’s not so stuffy.” He let go immediately, so she didn’t take umbrage.

  She looked down at her attire and lack of shoes. “I’d say we’re both as far from stuffy as it’s possible to get right now.” But something twinged inside her at his description of her usual mode of dress. He made it sound like she dressed like an old lady, but though her clothes were conservative in style, she’d always tried to maintain a certain level of chic.

  Admittedly, she did not wear anything even remotely sexy or excessively feminine.

  “That gray looks good on you. You’ve got such pale skin for your hair color. It’s a fascinating contrast.”

  She let him seat her before answering.
“I take after my great-grandmother and fascinating isn’t how most Southern Californians view my pasty white skin tone.”

  “You make it sound as if you look ill and you don’t.”

  “I don’t tan. I burn. To most Southern Californians, that is an illness.” She laughed lightly, making a joke of it, but she could still remember the sessions in the tanning beds trying to cultivate the right look in her teens.

  “People who sunbathe frequently are at higher risk for skin cancer. Their skin ages prematurely as well.”

  She gave a speaking look to his naked torso. “I appreciate that now, as an adult. As a teenager, I didn’t really care. I wanted to look like everyone else.” Even if she’d tanned, she still would have had more curves than most of the other girls.

  He looked down at himself and then back at her. “I like the feel of the sun on my skin after spending so much time inside my lab, but I don’t lay around in the sun for hours on end cultivating a tan.”

  She looked at his olive skin tone. “You don’t need to.”

  “Neither do you.”

  That was nice of him to say and maybe he did find pasty white a fascinating skin tone. “It doesn’t matter. I gave up trying to tan years ago.”

  “Good.”

  She smiled.

  “I know what it feels like not to fit in, but trying to be like everyone around you doesn’t work.”

  “Your looks weren’t your problem.” He was too gorgeous.

  He didn’t preen under the compliment like so many of the plastic men from her Southern California world would have. “It was my age,” he said, repeating what he’d said earlier.

  “Did it ever get any easier?”

  “I thought it did, for a while when I was a teenager.”

  “What happened?” Would he slap her down for prying into things that were none of her business, that were, moreover, totally unrelated to why she was there? She couldn’t help the interest that burned inside her to know him better.

  “I tried doing what the adults around me did.”

  “That’s pretty typical for a teenager.”

  “Yeah, well, most teens try to act like adults with each other. I was surrounded by people several years older than me and light years ahead of me in life experience.”

  “You got hurt.”

  “You could say that. I learned some important truths in the process though.”

  She didn’t push for more, but maybe one day he would tell her. Then she chided herself. What was she thinking? Once this merger went through, she’d never see him again.

  “Is that why you live on an island now and work at home, so you don’t have to worry about fitting in?”

  “Maybe. I’ve never thought about it, but what I do could not be done in a nine-to-five environment.”

  “No, I don’t suppose it could. Did you always want to be an inventor?”

  Jacob materialized, putting a bowl of chilled mango soup in front of each of them. Then he left.

  Simon tasted the soup, smiled and took another spoonful before answering. “I’ve always hungered to discover new things, new ways to accomplish the same tasks, and more efficient use of the resources at hand.”

  “That sounds a lot broader than new computer design.”

  “Computers have always played a central role. It’s only natural considering who my father was, but I experiment in other areas as well.”

  “What are you working on right now?” She tasted the soup. It was ambrosia. Creamy and smooth, it had a hint of coconut flavor as well as peach mixed with the mango.

  “One of my current projects is wind powered fuel cells as an alternate form of energy.”

  Of course he wouldn’t work on one thing at a time.

  “Any success?”

  “Mild.”

  “What’s a fuel cell?” She knew what a windmill was. There were hundreds of them in the California desert. However, she’d never heard of a fuel cell.

  “It’s like a super-efficient battery run on hydrogen and air. When you need the energy, you run the gases through the layers of the cell, with one of the by-products being electricity.”

  “What are the other by-products?” She remembered that nuclear power had been touted as a clean source of energy, and look at the problems the waste by-products had made for the power plants.

  “If hydrogen and air are used for the fuel, the secondary by-product is pure drinking water. Hydrogen is the most abundant chemical in the universe and preliminary tests have shown the fuel cell to be at least twice as efficient as other energy sources. And there are no moving parts to wear out.”

  He was so enthusiastic, he was positively chatty.

  “It sounds too good to be true.”

  “There are still a lot of variables that need to be dealt with before it will be a viable alternative for mass energy use.”

  “And you’re working on those variables right now in your lab?”

  “Me and probably a hundred other alternative energy source enthusiasts.”

  She laid down her spoon and stretched her bare toes toward the warm sun. Simon had led her to a seat on the side of the table shaded by an umbrella. “When do you find time to develop prototypes for Brant Computers?”

  “I’m not responsible for all prototype development.”

  “But I thought you were the top design engineer at Brant.” She was sure that was how Eric had explained Simon’s role in the company.

  “I think my title is something like Design Engineer Fellow.”

  She smiled. “You don’t know?”

  Gray eyes bore into hers. “It doesn’t matter. I do what I do because it is what I like to do.”

  “But you do design for Brant Computers?”

  “I bring new technology to proof-of-concept phase. Sometimes that means creating a working prototype, sometimes not. Once I turn it over to the design team, I’m pretty much out of it unless they get stuck.”

  “I hear your design team is one of the top in the industry.”

  “We like to think so.”

  “Extant Corporation has some of the most innovative design engineers in the country as well. Can you imagine what the two could do if their resources were pooled?” Surely that was one of the benefits to the merger that would appeal to him.

  He frowned. “Forcing the two teams to work together could just as easily destroy the effectiveness of both.”

  “Why should it do that?”

  “New product design is a creative process.”

  He’d finished his soup before she realized he wasn’t going to add anything else. She waited until Jacob had taken away the bowls and laid down plates with their main course before speaking again. “So why does it being a creative process mean it would be bad to bring the two teams together?”

  “I don’t know that it would be bad. It’s a possibility.”

  “But why is it a possibility? I would think the more brain power the better.”

  “Haven’t you ever heard the old saying, too many cooks spoil the broth?”

  “Simon, we’re not talking about cooking here.”

  “But we are talking about the possibility of adding too much of a good thing to the mix.”

  “What exactly are you saying?”

  “One of the reasons I work here is that I have complete creative freedom. That makes it possible for me to try things I wouldn’t or couldn’t in a corporate environment. Other people don’t always spark creativity, sometimes they stifle it. Maybe they’ve tried something similar before and it didn’t work.”

  “But that could happen in the groups now.”

  “That’s true.”

  He did it again. Went silent.

  “Is that all you’re going to say?”

  “For now.”

  Jacob came out bearing a tray with two crystal dishes filled with fresh strawberries topped by heavy cream and a mint garnish.

  She gave the old man a dazzling smile just to confound him. “Dinner was fantastic, Jacob.
Thank you. And dessert looks sinfully delicious.”

  “Nothing sinful in fresh berries, missy.” He refilled their wineglasses before leaving, the dishes from dinner now on the tray in his hands.

  The strawberries were so juicy, they slipped across her tongue with a burst of sweet sensation. “Mmmm,” she hummed with pleasure as she took another bite.

  She looked up to find Simon watching her, a curious expression on his face. “They’re locally grown.”

  “They’re yummy.” She scooped another berry out with her spoon, making sure it was coated with the heavy cream. As she went to put it in her mouth, she realized Simon was watching her with disconcerting intensity.

  Were his eyes really trained on her lips, or was that her imagination running away with her good sense? She was so attracted to him, she wanted to believe the attraction was reciprocal, but he’d done nothing so far to indicate it was.

  More likely he was wondering why a woman with her figure hadn’t foregone dessert. If she’d been with her parents or her ex-husband she would have.

  “Aren’t you going to eat?” she asked, waving her now empty spoon toward his crystal bowl of fruit.

  “I’ll eat it later.” He looked at the hi-tech watch on his wrist and grimaced. “I need to check on my timed experiment.”

  “But we’re not done discussing . . .” She didn’t finish the sentence, seeing as how she was already talking to his back.

  “Simon Brant, someone needs to teach you some manners.”

  He stopped at the door and turned. His expression registered a vague sort of chagrin. “I’m sorry, but three days of experiments will be wasted if I don’t go to my lab right now.”

  At least he’d stopped to explain. She nodded, but didn’t bother to ask if he’d be back down. He wouldn’t.

  She allowed herself the luxury of finishing her dessert in peaceful silence, the summer evening air cooling around her and bringing out goose bumps on her skin.

  “The last ferry sails in thirty minutes.” Jacob’s voice came from behind her.

  She turned to face him. “I guess I’d better be on it.”

  “Unless you want to spend the night.”

  “I can’t see myself borrowing your pajamas.”