by Unknown
He held her up, his fingers firm around her upper arm, the other hand steadying her at the waist. Twin waves of embarrassment and desire tumbled through her body. The touch of his hand on her bare arm made every part of her ache to be held that same way.
"You are doing this on purpose," he said matter-of-factly.
Liz stood up straight, stepping away from him. He let his hand drop, and the connection between them broke. Liz examined her heel, not caring whether or not it was broken but not wanting to meet Robb's gaze head on.
"What? Being bad with heels? I've always been bad with heels." She kicked them off and stood in her stockinged feet.
"Falling into my arms. Swooning, I believe they call it," Robb said. "You've already done it twice."
"That's hardly swooning." Liz said, distracted by something else. "Is this a magnetic refrigerated centrifuge?" She had already gone over to the huge device to examine it. The centrifuge chamber was clear, and you could see the whirling tubes inside. A touch screen panel monitored the conditions inside.
"This year's model." Robb said. "Are you swooning yet?"
"Your lab looks like an Apple store," Liz said, turning in place.
"I'll take that as a compliment. How did you enroll into grad school without knowing how to walk in heels?"
Liz snapped a look at him. She'd had to deal with too much of that kind of shit in university to let it go.
"They took that part of the entrance exam out, actually," she said. "Now it's just the boring biochemistry questions and professor recommendations."
"Would you like to learn?" he asked.
"Learn what?"
"How to walk in heels."
"I'm sure you're an excellent teacher," Liz said. Was he flirting with her? She couldn't tell. He would touch her one moment and the air would steam between them, but then the next moment his attention seemed far away. "These aren't even my shoes, though."
"Heel to toe," Robert continued, not put off in the slightest by her rejection. "And make sure your feet move in a straight line. Or else you'll look bowlegged."
"Thanks. I'll be sure to remember that. So who works here?" She waved her hand around the lab.
"I do. Nobody else. Not right now anyway," Robb said.
"Nobody?" The lab was huge, and expensively furnished. It seemed like such a waste to have only one person working.
"Nobody I can trust but myself,” Robb said. He smiled, but to Liz's eyes his smile seemed bitter. "And maybe you."
"Me?"
Robb slid over and gripped her hand in his. She breathed out, her heart racing as his fingertips slid millimeter by millimeter over her skin.
"I want to push ahead with work on that protein you were talking about. Would you be interested?"
"Interested in doing what? I'm already working with you." Liz found her head spinning. She didn't know whether it was the offer or the touch of Robb's hand that was doing it, but all of a sudden the room seemed smaller, warmer. She needed a drink of water.
"Running the experiments they won't let you run at the university." Robb continued on, not blinking at her reaction for an instant. "I'll pay you for your time, of course. A stipend of say, fifty thousand pounds per annum?"
Fifty thousand? Liz's eyes bugged out of her head. The grad student salary provided her with less than twenty thousand, plus student housing. Robb took the look on her face to mean something else, though.
"Is that not enough?" he asked. "I can never keep up with inflation. You'd think after so long..."
"No, no, of course. That's fine. Better than fine. That's great!" Liz swallowed the lump in her throat. This was happening. It was actually happening. All of the experiments she'd wanted to run and couldn't because she didn't have the grant money—all of the time she'd spend working to get this kind of opportunity—
"Wonderful. You'll start tomorrow then."
He handed her a small white card. She turned it over in her hands. It was like a business card, but plastic. She didn't know how to thank him. Tears sprang to her eyes.
"This will let you into the door," Robb said. "The code for the elevator you already know."
Liz choked on her happiness. He'd caught her looking at the code.
"Sorry!" she said. "I didn't mean to look—"
"No? I don't believe that for an instant. But then again, I should be flattered to think you'd want to come and visit me in my private apartment."
"I don't!"
"You don't?" His voice was a low growl, almost a whisper. Robb looked up at her with puppy dog eyes, teasing her. She swallowed the lump in her throat that had appeared out of nowhere.
"I mean—"
"That's perfectly fine." He grinned and stood up straight, gesturing her toward the door. "I don't have a sex dungeon, anyway. I'm a completely uninteresting billionaire."
"What a shame," Liz said, trying to return her breathing to normal. Maybe Jenny was right. If she got out more often, she wouldn't be so freaked when a guy casually flirted with her.
"I apologize in advance for being a bad influence," he said to her.
"Excuse me?"
"You seem like such a good girl. That's the real shame."
Liz turned to face him.
"If you think you're the one who's going to turn me into a bad girl, you've got another thing coming."
To her surprise, he stepped forward, bending his head so that his nose was just inches from hers. She could smell his aftershave. Her breath caught in her throat.
"I've already got you breaking the rules."
"I'm here to talk about work. Not to do...whatever it is you do over in your private apartment." Liz waved her hands at the wall that separated the lab from the other side of the building. "Anyway, I don't break rules."
"Really?" he asked. He was so close to her. He could kiss her. She wanted him to kiss her, so badly. She wanted to shove him back even more. Instead she stood on her tiptoes and stared back in defiance.
"Really," she said. If he was going to ask her out and then tease her for saying yes...
"I believe lab safety regulations prevent bare feet in the lab."
Liz's jaw dropped open. Robb grinned and moved adroitly around Liz. He swiped his card in front of the reader and opened the lab door for her, giving an overly chivalrous bow.
She clamped her lips shut. Robb waited as she tugged the high heels back onto her feet. He followed her out the door and they crossed the foyer. As they stood side by side in the elevator, Liz let her gaze flit over to the right-hand door. The door to his apartment.
"Be careful standing there," Robb said out of the corner of his mouth.
"Standing where?" Liz looked down at the floor of the elevator. There was nothing there.
"Standing so close next to me," Robb said, as the elevator started to move. Liz lurched slightly and Robb caught her by the arm to balance her. "Some women tend to swoon."
Liz jerked her arm out of his grasp.
"Thanks for the warning," she said, letting sarcasm drip over her words. He only smiled politely, as though he had been serious. Surely he wasn't serious.
Liz was still holding the passkey he'd given her. She slipped the white card into her purse and followed Robb out into what looked like a private garage, with one black Porsche and one white car that she couldn't identify at first glance. Next to the two cars, a large tank was partially covered with a tarp. Liz peeked under it as she went around to the passenger's side of the Porsche.
"Is this a radiation bubble chamber?" She lifted the tarp with two fingers.
"My backup one, yes," Robb said, sliding into the Porsche. "You know, most girls comment on the Maserati DiSolo."
"Maserwhati solo?" Liz plopped herself into the passenger seat and buckled in.
"Why even bother?" Robb said, shaking his head.
Liz turned her head to the window and saw a particle streaming through the chamber, leaving a curved streak of bubbles in its wake.
Maybe this billionaire didn't have a sex
dungeon. But uninteresting? She didn't believe that, not for a minute.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Robb opened the Cayman's door for the girl. He hadn't expected her to be dressed up so...provocatively. Her dress hem was sliding up her thighs and she kept having to adjust it back down. He wished she wouldn't.
He knew that he was playing with fire by asking her out to dinner. The girl would be useful for his research, he reminded himself, nothing more. Still, he delighted in her obvious excitement when he pulled up to Galvin La Chapelle and the valet nearly jumped out of his shoes to open the door for her. Before they'd even reached the front door, the manager was there to welcome them.
"Your usual table, Monsieur?"
Robb nodded and motioned to let Liz walk in front of him.
"Such a gentleman," she said, with a hint of sarcasm in her voice.
"Better view from back here," Robb said in rejoinder. Liz scoffed, tossing her hair back, but he noticed that she walked in a straight line so that her hips swung out from side to side. Much better.
It had been a while since he'd had an American girl, he thought. How long had it been? Then: no. Not this one.
"Bonjour monsieur et mademoiselle!" the waiter said. "Welcome. What will you have today?"
"The tasting menu, please," Robb said. "For both of us."
He ignored the look Liz gave him. She was terrible at flirting, if that was what she was trying to do. She was equally terrible at pushing him away, if that was what she was trying to do. With every push, he wanted more and more to push back. Maybe she was actually a genius at flirting.
"You'll love it," he said. And she did, or at least she pretended to. The first course was a lasagne of Dorset crab, beurre Nantais, and pea shoots, and she cleaned the plate with relish. Robb watched in silent amusement as she ate. She looked up at him as she balanced her last fork of peas in front of her mouth.
"It's your fault," Liz said, and took the last bite of peas. "You should never invite a grad student out to dinner. We're insatiable."
"I bet you are," Robb said, grinning at the easy joke. "How does an innocent looking girl like you end up in a blood lab, anyway? And don't tell me you don't look innocent. You didn't even try to drag me into my bedroom earlier this evening."
"I'm perfectly innocent," Liz said, her hands primly in her lap. The waiter glided by their table to pick up her empty plate.
"I believe you. So why hematology?"
"My sister died of acute myelogenous leukemia when I was ten," Liz said. She looked straight at Robb, her green eyes fierce, daring him to make a joke.
"I'm so sorry to hear that," Robb said. "Was she very young as well?"
"She was seven."
"Such a shame." Now he understood where her passion for chemistry came from, and the source, too, of the sorrow in her eyes. Robb cast his eyes around the room, looking at the candlelit tables and beautiful decor. The dead could not appreciate life, and neither could he. Was he dead, then? Or just a monster? "My sister died young as well."
"Oh? What was her name?"
It had slipped out. He hadn't been paying attention, and it had slipped out. Now he had to keep the conversation going.
"Catherine," he said.
"Cancer, or?..."
"Yes," he said. He lied. He hated lying to someone he liked, but he couldn't very well tell her what Catherine had really died of—tuberculosis. Of course, she'd died before she was two years old, without any kind of modern medicine to save her. He tried to look sufficiently dour, then changed the subject back. "What about your sister? What was her name?"
"Cori. My parents adored her. I was always jealous of her because of that. Even after she was diagnosed, I was envious of all the attention she got. Terrible, isn't it? I was a terrible person." She took a gulp of wine from her glass, clutching the stem of the glass with both of her hands.
"You were a child. Children are always terrible."
"Are they?"
“Horrible, nasty little creatures. I'm glad I was never one of them," he said. A pang of regret lanced his heart. His childhood had been lost to the curse which had made him immortal.
Liz laughed softly.
"What were you like as a child?" she asked.
"Terrible, I'm sure," he said, itching to change the subject. "A troublemaker par excellence. I'm sure you were a little darling, though. Did you ever break the rules?"
"Never," Liz said, a dimple in her cheek. "Not once."
"Good. You were saving it all up for adulthood."
"No!"
"Tsk, tsk. Taking your shoes off in the lab. What next? Soon we'll be robbing banks and god knows what else. Jaywalking."
"The horror!" Liz said. Her peals of laughter drew the attention of the people dining at the next table over. Robb didn't care a whit. He'd gotten the girl to laugh. That was worth all the dirty looks of all the high-class diners in London.
"What do your parents do?" Liz asked, taking another sip of wine. The waiter came, thankfully, with the next course, and Robb deflected the question deftly as he spread her brioche with Landes foie gras. The course came with a Sauternes that ran smoothly down the back of his throat. The meal continued, and Robb could see Liz relaxing as she tried the delicacies—warm smoked eel, which he resisted making a joke about, caramelized pineapple. Braised rabbit breast with pistachio and lavender jelly.
Robb was getting distracted by the sight of her neck, so smooth and pale. He could almost see the veins running underneath her creamy skin. He salivated.
"How are you liking England?" he asked.
"It's alright. My grandparents were from England. I used to come and visit. The food was never this good, though!"
"We English have to go to French restaurants to get anything decent to eat," Robb said. As if on cue, the waiter brought out another platter. This time it was tagine of Bresse pigeon served with a side of cous cous and cockle velouté.
"This is incredible," Liz said.
"Yes," Robb agreed, watching her lip glisten with a smear of lavender jelly. "Incredible." Then her tongue licked the sweetness from her lips and he had to avert his eyes.
By the time the waiter brought out the last course of tarte Tatin with creme fraiche, Robb had regretted asking Liz to dinner. She was beautiful, yes, and utterly charming, and therefore entirely dangerous. She would be working next to him for the entire year, perhaps longer. There was no way that he could become involved with her, but now his interest was piqued and his mind would not stop considering how beautiful she would look lying naked on the bed, her hair splayed across the sheets—
"We should go," Robb said. He stood up and tossed a few hundred-pound notes on the table. "I have another dedication speech in the morning."
"Oh. Okay," Liz said, dabbing her napkin to her lips.
He pulled Liz's chair out for her and drove her home. On the ride back, her cheeks were flushed with wine, and she chatted nonstop about the lab and what kinds of tests she would be able to run. Once she touched her hand to his shoulder while she was making a point. The cut on her hand was still fresh, and he could smell the blood under the bandage. It was sweet; it filled the car with its aroma and he grew dizzy with the cloying scent. He had to get out or he would go mad. His foot pressed on the gas pedal. He was already mad. What was he thinking?
Finally they pulled up in front of the student apartment complex. The thin strip of lawn in front stretched out yellow and dead in front of the crumbling brick front steps. Stepping out into the cool night air, he breathed more easily. He walked around and opened the car door for her.
Liz got out and stumbled, and he caught her by the arm to balance her. She looked up at him then, her eyes bright.
"That one was on purpose," she said, and leaned forward to kiss him.
The shock of it froze him for a moment. No, that was a lie. In truth, the warm press of her lips was so inviting that he lingered in the kiss for a half-second more than he knew he should.
It was a half-second too much.
The scent of her blood and her hair, the hot breath between them, her body under his hands—all of this sent wild electric currents running through his nerves. His body responded instantly to hers in a way that he hadn't felt in over a century.
Normally he was the one in control. He brought women back to his place, he seduced them, he kissed them. This—this was all backwards. His body was under her spell, if only for a moment, and he was completely thrown by the feeling, fighting to regain his senses.
He jerked backwards out of the kiss, his hands against her shoulders as if to ward her away.
"No," he said, more sharply than he had intended. The effect was instant. A flush rose up on Liz's face and her features crinkled into bruised embarrassment.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I thought—"
"It's quite alright," Robb said, but he was still reeling from what had just happened. His heart was pounding, his teeth prickling his gums. He wanted her, wanted to taste her. "I only meant...that is to say..."
"I'm sorry," Liz repeated, shaking her head as though she had surprised herself with the kiss. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have."
"Please, don't apologize," Robb said. Now that she was no longer touching him, he could think again.
"I thought it was a date," Liz said, her voice cracking on the last word. Tears sprang to her eyes.
God, she was beautiful. Her green eyes looked even more brilliant with the shine of tears, and the flush in her cheeks made her scent strong enough that he could feel the effects from where he was standing. He wanted her so badly, wanted to kiss her, wanted to hold her, wanted to make love to her and see what her lips looked like when she opened her mouth to gasp out an orgasm, when he made her scream with pleasure.
But he couldn't.
"It's my fault," Robb said, forcing a laugh to ease the tension between them. "It's all this natural charm—I can't turn it off."
Liz swallowed and gave a faint smile.
"I should have realized—"
"Really," Robb said, wanting to take her hands in his but not wanting to create any more friction between the two of them. He stood in front of her awkwardly. Was this how it was to be awkward? He had no idea where to put his hands. "I'm sorry. All my fault for being misleading. We shouldn't do—ah—this, though, if we're working together."