by Susan Fox
She was always doing that at the dinner table. Saying, “Let me give you a hypothetical,” then setting out some fact pattern and seeing how we all responded.
Hypotheticals don’t arise out of the blue. But all right, yes, I remember. I believe I said that most girls fall a bit in love with the person who awakens their sexuality. It’s natural, but it doesn’t mean they’re the right one for you, or that you’ll love them long-term.
Mark had awakened a different side to my sexuality. So maybe it was natural I was feeling weird, gooshy emotions. That didn’t mean they’d last. And, of course, I didn’t want them to. No way was I letting a guy mess up my life again. Or, rather, letting me mess up my life because of my feelings for some guy.
I read my mom’s words again. When I was a girl, her comment hadn’t meant much to me, but now that I really thought about it, what did it say about her and Dad? I knew she loved him. He was her “right one,” wasn’t he? But if he was, then he hadn’t been her first love? I was dying to know, but no way could I ask her. Instead, I typed:
You really believe there’s one “right one”? How the heck do you know when you find them?
It took her longer than usual to answer.
I thought you didn’t believe in love. Or want it.
Oops. I should never have started this with my mom. She saw way too much.
I stared at those words on the screen. Believe in love? Well, I honestly did think Mom and Dad loved each other, and so did M&M. As for wanting it … After Travis, I’d decided it was easier to not want love than to risk losing my judgment, being stupid, not looking after myself. Getting hurt. I’d told myself there were lots of great guys and no reason to be with just one.
Did I really believe that? Mark had asked if that was really me speaking, or if I was echoing Travis. I had thought the philosophy was mine. I’d lived by it and had a great time.
But now … Was I starting to want something else? To want one person in the world I could truly connect with, who’d love me just the way I was?
Slowly, I typed:
Maybe I don’t know what I believe anymore.
I stared at those words for a while, too, not clicking SEND. Fewer than ten simple words, yet cold sweat had broken out on my skin.
Another e-mail from my mom popped up.
Sorry, my flight’s loading. Have to go. TBC when I get home. Drive safely. Love you.
Then she was gone, and I was still staring at unsent words. And realizing I’d opened up a “to be continued” conversation I didn’t really want to have with my mom.
“Jenna?” Mark’s voice broke in, making me jump. “Almost done?”
Oh God, I’d been so absorbed I didn’t have a clue if he’d been watching me, maybe reading my screen. Quickly, I closed the message, not saving it. I rubbed my hands briskly over my arms, banishing the chill, the unease. “Yeah, I’m just finished.”
As we left the internet café and climbed into the Westfalia, I asked, “Did you get in touch with your grandparents?”
“Yeah.” He glanced at me, blue sky eyes troubled.
Maybe he’d mentioned me. Hah, that would have been interesting. Some demon made me say, “Mention me?”
His brows pulled together. “No.” A pause while he stowed his laptop in the back, then, when we were both seated up front, “Should I have?”
“Why would you?” I said breezily, propping my feet up on the dashboard.
“Did you, uh, e-mail your family about me?” he asked cautiously.
“Why would I?”
“Right.” Another pause as he started the camper and pulled away. “If you did come to Indonesia, they might want to meet me.”
You think? “Why? It’s my life. They’ve never met any of my other bosses.” I was being snippy, but couldn’t seem to stop myself. “If I went, you wouldn’t introduce me to your grandparents, would you?” I didn’t look at him, just stared out the window as if the roadside stores were fascinating.
“Uh … I don’t know.”
“They’d disapprove, wouldn’t they? They’d think I was a flake”—deliberately, I used my family’s word—“like Alicia.” No, I had no place in Mark’s life long-term, so of course I wouldn’t be so stupid as to fall for him.
“Uh …”
I huffed out air and groused, “And my damn family might actually approve of you.”
“You say that like it’s a sin.”
A thread of humor in his voice made me glance his way. He’d stopped at a light and was staring at me, brows cocked, an amused curl to his lips.
I was in a snit for no good reason, and he wasn’t playing along. That defused my ill humor as if by magic. I sighed, and gave him a rueful sigh. “Yeah, a deadly sin. Mind you,” I mused teasingly, “I live to shock, and bringing home a guy they approve of would be the biggest shock ever.”
The light turned green and he drove on. “Glad to oblige.”
But he didn’t say he’d introduce me to his grandparents. And why would he? Though he might use fancy words like making love, we both knew our relationship was just about sex.
Again I wondered how that would work out if I went to Indonesia. The idea of going to places like Bali was so exciting, and the work sounded fascinating. But this situation was different than jobs and volunteer positions I’d signed on for in the past. Mark wanted a six-month commitment. Could I give that? And, just as important, what about him and me? Did he figure we’d be lovers there, or would I just work for him?
Man, I really was approaching thirty! I used to make decisions impulsively, but now I wanted more information. “Tell me more about Indonesia and your project.”
Mark being Mark, he didn’t start with the people stuff, he went straight to the science. “Coral reefs are suffering, partly because global warming is raising ocean temperatures and that harms coral.” He expanded on that topic in sexy scientist mode.
“So your project is about fighting the effects of global warming?”
“Global warming is the huge issue, but there are other things destroying coral, too. Bad fishing practices, tourists collecting souvenirs, and divers simply being careless.”
“Those things can be changed more easily than dealing with global warming.”
“That’s right,” he said as we crossed the bridge over the Columbia River, taking us into Washington. “Education is a big part of the project. First, in helping the local people understand that even though catching exotic tropical fish to sell on the international market and encouraging tourism have immediate financial payoffs, the current practices are destroying the resources that are their foundation.”
“Then you teach them the correct ways?”
“Yes. For fishing, it’s usually a return to more traditional practices. Fishing nets rather than cyanide, for example.”
I gaped at him. “Cyanide? Oh my God, they use cyanide?”
“In some places, yes. It stuns the fish and makes them easier to catch. But the survival rate is lower, and it destroys the coral that the fish need to survive.”
“I bet it does.” I reflected. “And with tourism, you teach them about ecotourism, and I suppose try to get laws enacted so that tourists can’t collect coral?”
“Yes. We also teach the locals how to treat and replant coral, to rebuild the reefs.” He elaborated on what was involved.
“You help them build a sustainable economy that protects rather than destroys the environment,” I said.
“Exactly.” He gave me a big smile, then went on. “Members of our team help them with the economic aspects, too. Members of a community may set up their own fish export business or ecotourism business.”
His enthusiasm was infectious, and I felt an increasingly strong urge to be part of the wonderful things he and his team would be doing. The six-month commitment wasn’t a big deal; with work this absorbing, the time would fly by.
But what about him and me? Did he figure we’d stop sleeping together if we were in a work relationship?
I wouldn’t be a colleague like the other scientists on the team, I’d be some kind of assistant. Maybe he’d hook up with another marine biologist. Maybe I’d hook up with a hot Balinese guy.
My stomach felt a little queasy. Probably because it had been hours since breakfast. I pointed toward one of the exits for Olympia. “I could use a pee break and some lunch. We’re pretty low on crackers and cheese, so maybe we could pick up sandwiches to go?”
“Good idea.” He took an exit and we found a sandwich shop where we got veggie wraps and giant chocolate chip cookies.
I insisted on paying my share. “We need to settle up for gas, too.”
“Jenna, I was driving anyway. Doesn’t cost anything extra to have you along. Put the money toward a wedding gift for your sister.”
I smiled ruefully, and let my pride take the small hit. “Thanks. If she weren’t doing this on such short notice, I’d have had a chance to save for something.”
When we were back on the I-5 heading toward Tacoma, we munched on our wraps. My stomach felt a little better, but my thoughts were in a turmoil. Mark was different than any man I’d ever known, so smart and committed and … pretty freaking amazing. What would it mean for us if I went to Indonesia?
When we finished eating, he started giving me examples of projects similar to his Indonesian one. And, as we drove north through Washington, he also went into more detail about the work he and his team planned to do.
I listened, interested, but increasingly antsy. Science Guy was talking about everything but what kind of relationship he envisioned between us. I was almost scared to ask, because I didn’t know what I wanted. It sounded as if he saw us being just friends, and that would be easier in a lot of ways. I usually had no trouble at all being friends with guys I’d slept with. But could I work with Mark and not want to be lovers?
The miles passed, Seattle flashed by in a maze of exits and overpasses, we made steady progress toward the border. And still he talked about the project.
“We also hope for benefits beyond the environmental and economic ones,” he said. “Often there’s a spillover into other aspects of society when the economy improves and when people learn to respect the environment.”
“That’d be great,” I said absently. Yeah, it would, but I couldn’t take this any longer. I needed to know. “Mark, what about you and me? You’re the project leader, right?”
He nodded.
“So, I’d work for you. And we’d … what? Be friends? Lovers?”
“Friends? You thought … Oh, man. That’s not what I meant, Jenna. Lovers, of course.”
A surge of warmth rippled through me. He wanted me to go to Indonesia as his lover. “You think the rest of your team would be okay with that?”
“Yeah, sure. There’s one married couple on this team and likely some other folks will get together. And yes, I’m the team leader, but it’s mostly a coordination role. I’m not great at working with people. I hire competent professionals, each has their own role and tasks, and we work together cooperatively.”
He slowed as we reached the border. “Not much of a lineup. Good. Can you grab my passport from the glove compartment?”
I did, and found my own in my tote bag as the dozen or so cars ahead of us passed quickly through the checkpoint. I glanced at the clock on the dash and saw it was half past six. My family’d be organizing dinner and I’d arrive in time for leftovers.
We reached the Customs booth, and Mark handed our passports to the official. We answered the routine questions and were waved through.
“What were we talking about?” Mark said, handing me his passport to stow away. “Oh, right, about relationships. On projects like this, it’s not practical to say people can’t get together.”
“Yeah, I bet.”
He shrugged. “It’s all pretty loose. But, I don’t want …” His voice trailed off.
“What?”
He cleared his throat and, not looking at me, said, “I don’t want you sleeping with anyone else.”
“What?” I should have seen that coming. Mark believed in monogamy. I didn’t and had always hated it when a guy tried to tie me down. “Hey,” I protested, “you said I’d have to commit to six months on the project, you didn’t say I’d have to commit to six months of exclusivity with you.”
“Does that sound so terrible?” he shot back.
“I … Oh come on, we barely know each other. Yeah, there’s a … chemistry thing happening, but a week from now it could completely fizzle.” I twisted sideways so I could watch his profile as he drove. “Mark, this invitation doesn’t seem like you. You’re not the impulsive type.”
A grin twitched the corner of his mouth. “Not up until now.”
“You’ve been planning this project for a while, getting funding, coordinating with the Indonesian communities, putting a team together.” No doubt he had a project plan, like Theresa.
“Yeah.”
“And you’ve known me two days. So, why?”
He sent an almost exasperated glance in my direction. “Because you’re special.”
“Special?” I echoed, feeling that same gooshy warm sensation I’d felt when he’d said I was like a butterfly that did good in the world.
“I’m doing this wrong, aren’t I?” he said. “Adrienne says I don’t have a romantic bone in my body.”
Romantic? My pulse raced. Dr. Mark Chambers was feeling romantic? The idea of romance was … scary. Exciting. And just what was he freaking doing?
After casting a quick glance in the camper’s mirrors, he flicked on his signal and swung off onto the side of the highway.
“You can’t park here.”
“Just for a minute.” He turned off the engine, unbuckled his seatbelt, and swung toward me, expression earnest. “Jenna, I’ve only known you two days, but I feel things for you that I’ve never felt before.”
Oh, my. Traffic whooshed by and the Westfalia rocked slightly whenever a big commercial truck whipped past. I felt even less stable, like I was walking down the shifting sands of a dune in pitch darkness. “I, uh … Mark, we’ve only known each other two days.”
“I just said that,” he pointed out.
“Oh. Yeah. Uh …”
“You feel something, too. It’s not one-sided.”
I swallowed. Yes, I felt something, but it was strange and scary and confusing, and what good could come of admitting it? “What makes you say that?” My voice came out nervously high-pitched.
He answered calmly. “Sometimes you avoid kissing me because you’re scared of what happens when we kiss. When we kiss and make love, you look dazed and overcome, which is just how I feel. You tell me things you’ve never told anyone.”
About the operation, my infertility. Not only that, but he’d seen into my heart and realized the truth: that much as I might try to fool myself, I’d never stopped wanting to have children.
“Do you want me to go on?” he asked, tenderness in his blue eyes.
I shook my head. I should say something, but words were all jumbled in my brain.
He reached over and captured my hand. Expression bemused, he said, “I have no experience with love. I don’t know how it’s supposed to feel. Am I falling in love with you? How do I know?”
Oh God, I’d just e-mailed my mother asking how you knew if you’d found the right one.
Cold sweat broke out on my skin, and I realized my tummy was queasy again. I shook my head vigorously. “I thought I was in love once. It wrecked my judgment, and I ended up getting hurt. I don’t want to be in love again. I don’t trust myself when I’m in love.”
“You’re scared. Scared you’ll get another jerk like Travis.”
“He told me he loved me,” I said softly. “He lied, and I believed him, and I didn’t take care of myself.”
“I’ll never lie to you. And I’ll help you take care of you.”
Another gooshy surge of warmth hit my heart. It almost conquered the chills and nervous tummy. Mark was a
straightforward man. Things that came across as compliments or jokes were just him being honest about what he thought. Softly, I admitted, “I believe you.”
“We can take things slowly.”
“Slowly?” I yelped. “Going to Indonesia with you for six months isn’t exactly slow.”
His brows drew together. “Maybe not, but that’s where I’m going. What were you planning to do next? Go back to the falcon survey?”
“I don’t know, I don’t do plans.” I waved a hand a little wildly. “Get my car, then see where the open road takes me. There are so many possibilities.” Though at the moment, not a single one came to mind. I took a deep breath and forced myself to think. “I could drive to see Anna in Alberta, go to Greece and visit Milos, go to England and work with Elizabeth.”
His eyes narrowed when I said Milos. He was jealous. But in truth, Milos, the guy I’d once found so sexy, didn’t tempt me. Had Mark ruined me for other men?
“Using what for money?” he asked.
“I don’t know!”
He sighed, then stared levelly into my eyes. “I’m asking you to give up all the other possibilities and choose—”
Behind us, a siren whooped, cutting him off, and we both jumped. A moment later, a stocky, middle-aged cop stood beside Mark’s window. “Car trouble, folks?” he asked.
Mark shook his head. “No, I just needed to say something to her that I couldn’t while I was driving.”
The man wasn’t even capable of a white lie.
The cop’s lips quirked then straightened as he said, “Let’s see your license and registration. And next time, wait for an exit.”
“Sorry,” Mark said, fishing his wallet out of his pocket. “Jenna, would you get the registration out of the glove compartment?”
After the officer checked the paperwork, he waved us back onto the highway.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Mark said.
“I don’t know. Yes, the idea of going to Indonesia is really tempting.” If he was just a casual guy, like Milos or surfer-dude Carlos, the decision would have been easy. Go and have fun, for as long as it lasted. But things with Mark were anything but casual.