Romance: Yes, Stepbrother!

by Annie Valentine

  “See you in class, Tracy, and keep working hard; you’ll be just fine.”

  The undergrad had given one more shot at the googly eyes, then she’d turned toward Morgan, looked her up and down, rolled her eyes, and flounced down the hallway. Morgan took the undergrad’s reaction as a compliment.

  “Morgan,” Dr. Mador said warmly, walking over to her and shaking her hand. “Come on in.” His hand was warm, his skin incredibly soft, and Morgan felt her mouth dry immediately. Damn.

  “Hi Dr. Mador,” she said. “I’m really nervous about this conference.” Damn! Why couldn’t she keep her mouth shut?

  “You don’t need to be,” he said, gesturing for her to sit where the flirty undergrad had just been. “You’re a brilliant writer; you must know that.” He smiled at her. “Would you like some coffee? Water?”

  “A cocktail?” she asked, mirroring his tone. They both laughed.

  “If only,” he said, and there was… a beat… as they made eye contact. He held the contact for a moment and she noticed the small crinkles by the corners of his eyes, and how they made him even sexier. “Yeah, so…” he said, breaking the moment as he looked down at his desk, at her story right on the top of the small stack. “Your story… where did you develop the idea?”

  Morgan sighed. She shifted toward him, crossing her left leg over her right, knowing Ann would be proud of her flirtatious posture. “I used to be an X-Files addict. I mean, a serious addict. I was practically in love with Scully, right?” She looked at him and he arched his eyebrows. “I mean, I’m not a lesbian, I’m completely straight, but she was amazing.”

  “She was that,” Dr. Mador said, smiling. His gaze was unnerving, but Morgan forced herself to look into his eyes as she talked. She felt her body getting warmer, and she knew that she was blushing. She shifted again.

  “So, I started researching the possibility of life on other planets, and it was… incredible,” she continued. “The research that’s out there, I mean, people say they don’t believe in aliens, but it’s like, how can you not? Right?”

  Dr. Mador smiled. “The aliens in your story are very human-like. Did you intend that?”

  Morgan nodded. “Oh, absolutely,” she said, forgetting she was with her ultra-hot professor as she fell into the world of her story. “I think the idea that aliens are these scary creatures is the fictional part. I think the human body is a remarkable machine. Of course, I also think alien bodies are probably much more efficient and strong. Human bodies are fallible, susceptible to cancers and birth defects and such. But I think the whole “little green men” idea is more out of fear than reality.”

  “So you think that, if aliens arrived on Earth, they would look like us?” Dr. Mador was turned toward her, fully engaged in what she was saying.

  “I think they would look exactly like us,” she said.

  They talked about her story, though Morgan realized later that they had talked far more about aliens than about her writing, until the sun began its descent in the sky.

  After a pause in the conversation, Morgan looked at her watch and was surprised to see it was after six o’clock. Her appointment had been at four o’clock.

  “Wow!” she said. “We’ve been talking for ages. I’m sorry, you probably have tons of stuff to do, and here I am, prattling on about my story.”

  “Not at all, Morgan; I’m enjoying talking to you. I am starving, though, and you must be hungry as well?”

  Morgan nodded. She’d barely eaten lunch since she was so nervous about her critique; turned out she had no reason to be. Now that he’d mentioned it, she realized she was quite famished.

  “Do you want to grab a quick bite with me?” he asked. Morgan stared, her mouth dropping open slightly. Had Dr. Mador just asked her to join him for dinner? Her nerves, which had settled as they talked, suddenly spiked. She felt her heart pounding in her throat, and her mouth dried immediately.

  She cleared her throat. “Uh, yeah, if you want, um, that would be…awesome?” She took a deep breath, commanded herself to calm down and sound like the articulate graduate student she claimed to be.

  Dr. Mador laughed. “Did you drive?”

  “I rode my bike,” she said. “I don’t live far from here.”

  “Neither do I,” he said. “Do you just want to come over to my place? I’ve got wine, and we could order a pizza or something?”

  She stared at him and slowly nodded her head. She was afraid to speak, afraid she was dreaming, imagining the entire thing, and, if she spoke, she would shatter whatever was happening. Because, surely, Dr. Mador inviting her to his place, for pizza and wine, obviously a date, had to be some sort of a dream.

  She let herself exist in this dream world as they left his office and he locked the door behind him. They walked toward to the bike rack.

  “You rode your bike, too?” she asked.

  “It’s the only way to travel on campus,” he said. “Why don’t you just follow me?”

  “Sure thing,” she said. They put their helmets on, and Dr. Mador tucked his briefcase into the basket on the back of his bike and strapped it down. They pushed off and she followed him, nearly a mile down the road, to a large apartment complex known as Cardigan Suites.

  “Here we are,” he said over his shoulder as he stepped off his bike. He locked it onto the rack and waited while she did the same.

  “This is a cool building,” she said. It was a really nice building, far nicer, on the outside at least, than where she lived.

  “I moved in when I took the position at Columbia,” he said. “It’s a very comfortable place.”

  “Where did you move from?” she asked as the doorman opened the door for them, nodding a greeting to Dr. Mador and smiling at her.

  “Oh, a long way from here,” he said. “You wouldn’t have heard of it.” They stepped into the elevator and the attendant greeted them.

  “Hello, Sir. Hello, Miss,” he said agreeably. He pressed the top button, marked PP.

  “What does PP stand for?” Morgan asked.

  “Private Penthouse,” Dr. Mador said mildly, smiling down at her.

  “Ah,” she said, feeling the now-familiar surge of anxiety push through her. Penthouse? He was a college professor. Even at Columbia University, he had to have had some other form of income, besides teaching, in order to be able to afford… that.

  The elevator moved quickly and, before she knew it, the doors opened not to a hallway, but to Dr. Mador’s residence.

  “Thanks, Billy,” he said to the attendant.

  “Have a good evening, Sir,” he said, and Morgan and Dr. Mador stepped off of the elevator into Dr. Mador’s living room.

  Morgan looked around. “So… this is… nice…” she said, her voice faltering.

  Dr. Mador laughed. “Don’t worry,” he said. “The place I came from had really top-notch housing and I got used to living in a certain degree of quality. I can’t really afford to live here, but I do. Do you like red or white wine?”

  “Um, whatever you have open is fine,” Morgan said, trying to look around without making it look like she was looking around. The place was impeccably decorated, but the décor was simple and sparse. She could see it was possible for him to spend the majority of his money on the rent. She shrugged; hey, people spent money in all sorts of crazy ways, right?

  “Nothing is open yet, but I prefer red. Is that okay?” he asked. He set his briefcase by the door and motioned for her to move further into the living room. Over his shoulder, she could see into the dining room and kitchen. Behind her were two closed doors; one, she suspected, was his bedroom. She felt herself begin to blush again.

  “Red is great,” she said. “Can I help?”

  “Do you want to get online and order us up a pizza? Get a large, whatever kind you want. I like all pizza.” She nodded and he disappeared into the kitchen.

  Morgan sat down on the plush, leather sectional that took up about half of the living room floor space, took out her phone, and typed in pi
zza places near them that delivered and placed the order. She also texted Ann.

  Morgan: You will not fucking believe where I am. Oh my fucking god, dude, I’m at Dr. Mador’s PENTHOUSE APARTMENT!

  She clicked send, smiling at the release of tension, being able to tell someone the thoughts in her head, and also imagining Ann’s reaction when she read the text.

  A response came immediately:

  Ann: Get it gurrl! Don’t fuck it up! (Or do! Bahahahaha!)

  She laughed and closed out of her texting app just as Dr. Mador appeared in the living room with a tray holding two glasses of wine and a bottle, along with a bottle opener, a box of crackers, some cheese, and two plates.

  “Did you order the pizza?” he asked, setting the tray down on the glass topped table in front of them. He sat down on the opposite part of the sectional, so they sat at right angles to each other.

  “I did,” she said, “a large pepperoni with green olives and extra cheese.” She blushed when he smiled. “It’s my favorite.”

  He laughed. “That sounds delicious,” he said. “I got us some cheese and crackers to hold us while we wait for it… nothing too fancy, sorry.”

  She shook her head. “It’s okay, Dr. Mador,” she said. “It looks delicious.”

  “You obviously should be calling me Ren, Morgan,” he winked at her. He poured her a glass of wine and they clinked glasses. Morgan still felt as though she was dreaming, but Dr. Mador—Ren—was so calm and laid back, it seemed completely natural for her to be sitting on his couch, in his penthouse, drinking wine.

  “What do you like to read when you’re not reading our fiction?” she asked. She thought briefly of her classmates and how obscenely jealous they would be if they knew she was there.

  They talked until the pizza arrived. When the doorbell buzzed, Ren walked over to wait for the elevator. He took the pizza from Billy, handed him some cash, and the doors closed again.

  “Here we go!” he said brightly, setting the pizza down on the table in front of them. Morgan noticed the bottle was nearly empty. She knew she needed to slow down on her next glass, or she was liable to do something stupid.

  Ren went to the kitchen and got two dinner plates. He came back, and Morgan smiled up at him.

  “So, tell me, the main character in your story decides that she wants to live on another planet. She does, and her life improves drastically. If that opportunity was presented to you… would you do it?”

  Morgan thought for a moment. “Yes,” she said. “It’s not that I don’t love my life here, but… the world is so small compared to the universe that’s out there. I’ve traveled all over, and every time I go to a new place, I’m glad I visited.”

  “Wouldn’t you miss your family?” he asked. He smiled at her, and she felt her body warm all over. The wine was taking effect, and she felt perfectly relaxed and at ease sitting next to Ren.

  “My parents passed away when I was younger,” she said, “and I don’t have any siblings. Yeah, I’d miss my roommate, a lot, but… I know I’d meet people. I’m outgoing when I want to be, or when I need to be. Otherwise, I’m pretty quiet…” She realized she was talking almost in stream of consciousness.

  She watched Ren watching her, regarding her carefully, and she wondered what he was thinking.

  “What about you?” she asked. “Would you want to live on another planet?”

  He sipped his wine and smiled. “I would. I think, like you, that the universe is a big, exciting place. Somewhere to explore personally, not just in books or with satellites.”

  He leaned over and he kissed her. Morgan was so surprised she pulled back initially, but her body seemed to take over and it brought her back to his lips. He pressed against her, and he carefully took her glass of wine from her hand; she heard the clink it made as he set it on the table.

  “Is this okay?” he asked quietly.

  “Yes,” she breathed, and she kissed him back, pressing her lips to his firm, soft mouth. He put his arms around her waist and pulled her to him.

  “I’ve wanted to do this since the first time I saw you, Morgan. You’re not like the others; you’re not only beautiful, but you’re intelligent, articulate, forward thinking. You think like I do—as though we have limitless potential.”

  Morgan felt her body responding to Ren’s energy; a tingling sensation electrified like a wire between her breasts, as she felt her nipples harden, to the space between her legs becoming wet. His hands held her waist securely, as though she was locked in place, and she knew she never wanted to move.

  “I have to go,” she said, her voice thick with her arousal and warmth.

  Ren sighed and pulled back from her. “Yes,” he said, “that’s probably for the best.” He glanced at her. “But I would like to see you again.”

  “Is that allowed?” she asked. “I mean…”

  “Yes,” he said, and Morgan thought for a moment that she heard a tone of relief in his voice. “It’s allowed.”

  He stood up and she followed, slightly unsteady on her feet. He reached out to help her, then kissed her again. Standing, the kiss was different somehow. Her body pressed fully against his ashes wrapped her arms around his shoulders. His hands started at her waist, then moved down until his palms were cupping her ass, pulling her forward. She gasped lightly as she felt his hardness and then he pulled back from her.

  “Good night, Morgan,” he said, pressing the button to summon the elevator. “Please text me when you get home, so I know you arrived safely.”

  She nodded, unable to speak, and looked into his eyes until she heard the ding announcing the elevator. The doors opened and she backed in, gazing at him until the doors closed.

  Chapter Seven: Ren

  The elevator doors closed and Ren sighed, feeling the tension that had existed between him and Morgan breaking for the first time since she’d arrived at his office earlier that day.

  He sat on the couch, his head in his hands. He needed to rethink his entire plan. What made him extend the invitation to Morgan, to come to his home, he had no idea; he knew it felt right. Finding a hundred other women like her wouldn’t be possible, but, now that he had connected with her and knew she was the type of woman he wanted to bring back to Mador, he knew that bringing anyone less wouldn’t work.

  “Leif,” he said out loud to his empty apartment, “where are you when I need you?”

  He cleaned up the dishes, threw out the empty pizza box, wiped down the table, then sat on the couch and turned on the television. He watched the Sci-Fi network, mostly because the shows were so amusing. Having the TV on also helped him think.

  He thought about all of the dates he’d been on, all of the women he’d met and spent time with. None of them had been the genetic specimen Morgan was. Of course he’d wondered about Morgan from the start, he reminded himself; tonight’s connection between them had only solidified his notions. And that kiss… it was the best kiss he’d ever experienced, in any world.

  He flipped through the channels, his feet up on the coffee table, his mind far away. His phone announced a text message.

  Morgan: Home safe, thank you for a fun night.

  His stomach tightened, nerves maybe, or maybe just spice from the pizza. He texted back.

  Ren: I enjoyed it too. You are an intellect; can’t wait to talk again soon. Good night.

  ***

  Ren sat waiting for the first blind date of the week. This one, from Plenty of Fish, was an executive at an ad agency that he had been messaging with for the last few days. Her messages suggested she was aggressive, optimistic, and driven. Her picture suggested she was beautiful. Ren had learned not to count on any of this until he actually saw her.

  When she arrived, in the red sweater she’d told him she’d be wearing, he waved to her. He was wearing a navy shirt with a black tie, as he’d told her he would be wearing.

  They sat and performed what Ren had begun to consider the typical rituals of a first date. They introduced themselves, he paid he
r a compliment, she blushed and denied it, and they sat down. They spent several minutes pretending to read the menu while really checking each other out. He asked her what she wanted to have; she replied that she wasn’t sure and asked what he was having.

  After ordering, the conversation always grew more serious. Pasts, futures, goals. “Do you see yourself getting married?” “Do you see yourself having children?” Those kinds of things.

  Usually, by this time, Ren would know if the woman was one who would work well on Mador or not. Tonight was no different. This woman, whose name he couldn’t even remember, would not do. She would not do at all.

  Of course, it most likely wasn’t her fault, since Morgan was on his mind front and center. Where could he find more Morgans? He needed ninety-nine more Morgans.

  “Did you hear what I said?” the woman across from him said. There was no small amount of annoyance in her voice.

  “Sorry,” Ren said, arranging his face in an expression of apology. “Could you repeat it? It’s loud in here.”

  The woman sighed and rolled her eyes. “It’s not loud in here at all; you’re just not paying attention. I think I’m going to go. Thanks for a shitty date.” She stood up and, without another glance, walked out.

  Ren watched her leave, saying nothing to stop her. They’d gone to an Italian restaurant near his place because she had said she might want to continue the date at his apartment if all went well. Apparently that would not be the case. As she walked out Ren noticed, out of the corner of his eye, a woman staring at him from the bar. She looked like Morgan. It was Morgan. Sitting with another woman.

  He waved and stood up, leaving his suit coat at the table so the server would know he hadn’t skipped the bill.

  “Morgan!” he said, that unusual feeling moving through his stomach again. He felt a stirring below his belt as well, slowly dropping his hand into his pocket to adjust himself.

  “Hi,” Morgan said, smiling. “What a coincidence! This is my roommate, Ann.”

  Ren reached out and shook Ann’s hand. “Happy hour?” he asked.