The Perfect Solution

by Day Leclaire

  Disappointment ate deep into her heart.

  “Have I proved my point?” she asked, shoving at his shoulders.

  “Again.”

  He wanted more? Fine. She’d give it to him. She laced her fingers together at the back of his neck and tugged him downward. Slanting her head to one side, she took his mouth in hungry demand, urging his lips apart and sliding her tongue home. He tasted incredible. She drove into him over and over, biting at his lip, soothing it, then biting once more.

  Desire shot through her, hot and demanding, filling the air with a far different scent than her perfumes. Still he didn’t touch her, forcing her to remain the aggressor. Parting her thighs, she wriggled beneath him, her dress slipping to her waist. He surged into the open cradle she’d bared and she locked him in place with her legs, wrapping him in warmth.

  He was as hard as he’d claimed, the length of him pressing aggressively through the rough denim of his jeans and the thin silk of her underpants. She eased her hands between them, filling her palms with the impressive bulge running the length of his zipper. Ever so gently she squeezed. His breath exploded in a rush, giving lie to his detachment.

  “Again?” she dared to tease.

  “You’re cheating.”

  “I’m just doing what you asked.”

  “Are you claiming a clinical detachment? That’s pretty damned nervy.”

  “I’m a scientist.” She trotted out the lie for his inspection. “I’m always clinically detached.”

  “You’re clinically full of it, lady.”

  Laughter rumbled through her. “That, too.”

  His gold eyes took on a tender light and he twined a ringlet around his index finger, watching in seeming fascination as it wrapped tightly around him. “You’re wishing we were close to a bed so we could finish this, aren’t you?” he asked.

  “Actually, I’m wondering if you remembered to pick up some condoms.”

  “Back right pocket.”

  Temptation beckoned and she fought to control it, with only limited success. “There was a point to this experiment, if I recall. And I’m pretty certain making love on my desk wasn’t it.”

  “You’re right. We were comparing the lust we felt last night under the influence of your perfume with what we’re experiencing right now. So do me a favor and compare this.”

  He carefully untangled himself from her hair and reached between them, replacing her hands with his. His fingers were cool against scalding heat as he stroked a burning path down the center of her underpants. His fingertip traced the elastic edge, stroking along the inside of her thigh. Occasionally, he wandered off course, encroaching past the silk barrier into the moist, heated center of her. If his touch had sent her crazy last night, it drove her straight over the edge today. She bucked beneath him, muffling her shriek in his shirt.

  “I seem to remember that scream. So that’s still the same. You might want to make a note of that.” He cocked an eyebrow. “No?”

  “No!”

  “You sure? I’m positive I can find that pen you were lying on top of. And I’m pretty sure you have paper around here somewhere.”

  “Please, Flynn. I can’t take any more.”

  “Yup. That’s the same as last time, too. In fact, I think you’ve got it word-for-word. You sure we shouldn’t be taking notes as we go along?”

  She wasn’t quite certain what she said at that point, but whatever it was had him tugging her panties to one side and reacquainting himself with the various dips and valleys he bared.

  “Oh, yeah. This is definitely familiar. Only one difference I’ve noticed so far.” He circled, then swooped in for a landing down her center runway. “You’re squirming a whole lot more. Why do you think that is?”

  “Flynn!”

  “Whatever’s the matter, honey?” He blinked in mock innocence. “Is there something wrong?”

  “We can’t do this,” she babbled desperately, spreading her legs as wide as they’d go. “Not here. What if Paulie walked in and—”

  “He’d get an eyeful.”

  “Yes.” She groaned. “That’s precisely my point. And...”

  “But we have to repeat last night’s experiment. Isn’t that what we agreed? Remember this?” He flicked her with his thumb. “One.”

  Her voice hitched repeatedly like a broken record stuck in a groove.

  “You were saying?”

  “I was saying—” Her breath came in desperate pants. “I was saying that if you stop, I’ll kill you.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t planning to stop. Don’t you worry about that. After all, we want to keep the parameters of this experiment as close to last time as possible.” He flicked again. “Two.”

  She shuddered, fighting for breath. “Three! Please, please. One. Two. Three. Do three now.”

  “You mean this three?” Flick.

  A roaring filled her ears and she let out a scream that threatened to crack glass, tumbling over the top, just as she had the previous evening. Her bottom lifted toward his clever hand, every muscle in her body constricting. Spasms racked her as sobs ripped through her chest.

  She didn’t know how long it took before she calmed enough to take note of her surroundings. When she did, she closed her eyes, fighting tears. She’d really made a mess of things this time. And on her desk, no less. How would she get any work done in here ever again? Every time she looked at her desktop, she’d remember what had happened.

  “Any questions?” he teased.

  “No!” She fought for control. “No, you’ve proved your point.”

  “Sheer lust, right? Not perfumes?”

  “Sheer lust,” she confirmed. “No perfumes.”

  A rough satisfaction eased his expression, blunting the passion that rode him so hard. He gathered her close and kissed her again. Where before it had been a desperate joining of lips and tongue and teeth, this time the caress contained a gentler, more tender quality, as if he truly cared. As if it wasn’t just a desperate urge to mate with the nearest convenient female.

  Her brows drew together in confusion. Maybe Flynn was right. Maybe last night had nothing to do with her pheromone perfumes. Maybe what they’d experienced was simple, old-fashioned lust. She didn’t know whether to be delighted that she inspired such passion in a man or upset that her perfume had most likely failed.

  Fighting for control, Flynn gave her a final kiss. “Soon. We’re going to have to find a bed real soon.” His mouth traced a path to her ear and she shivered as the warmth of his breath gusted along her neck. He drew in a deep breath.

  And then he froze.

  “What am I smelling?”

  “Smelling?”

  He reared back. “Perfume. I can smell your perfume.”

  “That’s impossible. I’m not wearing any.”

  “The hell you aren’t.”

  He ripped free of her arms and Jane levered herself upward. She glanced downward and groaned. She lay sprawled across the desk, her dress hiked to her waist, her legs spread wide. Her panties all in a twist. She slid off with more haste than grace and yanked her dress downward.

  What had she done? What had she been thinking? She shot Flynn a quick, nervous glance. And what must he think of her?

  “I’m telling you the truth, Flynn.” She attempted to smooth away the creases in her lab coat but the wrinkles stubbornly remained. “I was squirted with perfume last night, an unfortunate accident, you must admit.”

  “I’m not admitting anything, right now.”

  She gave him a direct look. “It happened. Then the...incident...between us occurred. I took a long, hot shower afterward, soaping myself well. Any lingering traces of perfume would have been removed in the shower. And even if they hadn’t been, the ingredients are only active for a limited amount of time. I’m sure we’re well past—”

  “I. Smell. Perfume!”

  She folded her arms across her chest and scowled. Now he’d gone and made her cranky. “I’m. Not. Wearing. Any!” Unfortunately, s
he found it a trifle difficult to be impressively indignant with tousled ringlets bouncing in her eyes, around her cheeks and down her back. Not to mention that disastrous state of her dress. No doubt she looked like a wayward Shirley Temple.

  “Come here.” He reached for her arm and yanked her close again. “Yup. It’s there.” He lifted her arm to her nose. “Sniff!”

  She sniffed. Uh-oh. Her eyes widening. Son of a— “I...I don’t understand it. This can’t be. I swear, I washed it all off.”

  “Well, somehow it got back on you. Now, think. You didn’t put any on, right? So you must have picked it up from another source.”

  And then it clicked. “My purse.” To her distress, tears filled her eyes and she blinked rapidly in an effort to clear them. “Flynn, I’m so sorry. I never even thought of that. The perfume bottle broke in my purse, remember? When it dropped on the rock outside the house?”

  “And you cleaned it up this morning, is that it?”

  “After...” She cleared her throat. “After I showered. And after I had breakfast this morning. And...and right before I came over to talk to my uncles. Then we came in here and...” She glanced at the desk and quickly away, squirming in embarrassment. “I think you know the rest.”

  “So our little experiment on your desk—”

  “Wasn’t a valid test. It could have been a result of the perfume again.”

  He swore, long and virulently. “That’s just great.”

  “Look, you’re upset. With just cause, I admit.”

  Flynn flashed her a smoldering glare that had the words evaporating on her tongue. “You have no idea.”

  “I seriously didn’t realize I was—”

  “Contaminated? That doesn’t change what’s happening here. I’m in a state of perpetual pain thanks to your damn experiment.”

  “Then the sooner we finish the testing process, the better for all concerned,” she said attempting to soothe him. “Why don’t we both sit down, calm down and take care of the last of the paperwork. I’ll stay well away from you the whole time.”

  She didn’t think she’d ever heard the word he said spoken aloud. He added a few more for good measure. “And that’s what you can do with your paperwork,” he concluded.

  “Please, Flynn. I just have a few final questions to ask.” She winced at his expression. “They’re nothing like the ones from the other night.”

  “No.”

  Oh, dear. This didn’t look good. If she didn’t get him to agree, the past day and a half would have all been for nothing. “I understand why you’re upset.”

  “You just don’t give a damn.”

  “That’s not true.” She shoved her hands into the pockets of her coat and faced him down. “Do you really think I enjoy being taken apart? On my own desk, no less? Nothing like this has ever happened before.”

  “Not even with Mick?”

  She fought to control her devastation. “What happened with Mick was extremely unpleasant.” Her gaze clung to his. “What happened between us was incredible.”

  “Aw, hell,” he muttered. For a moment, she didn’t think her honesty would make a difference to him. Then he sighed. “Okay, fine. What are your questions?”

  “Forget it, Flynn,” she said, reaching a decision. She’d put him through enough. “No more questions. We’re through.”

  “No, we’re not.” He paced the length of her office. “If we were through, I’d be on my way back to San Francisco and you’d be back in your lab.”

  “Flynn—”

  But he hadn’t finished. “You’d be in your lab, playing with your secret potions and solutions and compounds, trying to create chemically what you refuse to find naturally. And why?”

  “Please, Flynn,” she whispered. “Don’t.”

  “Because you’re scared.” He turned to face her. “Aren’t you, Jane?”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  FLYNN’S WORDS HIT HARDER than he’d intended. Jane stared at him, her eyes huge and distressed. She bit down on her lower lip, a lip still swollen from his kisses. He longed to soothe her mouth, ease the hurt with a gentle sweep of his tongue. But he knew where that would lead.

  To a world of hurt.

  Her chin quivered ever so slightly, but she stuck it in the air, anyway. “You’re right,” she confessed. “I am afraid.”

  “Mick sure did a number on you, didn’t he.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Yes, he did a number on me. But I can’t blame him for the person I’ve become.” She shoved back her chair and stood, as well. “Come on. I’d like to show you something.”

  She led the way out of the office and pulled open a heavy glass door that led into her lab—the only part of the complex he hadn’t explored. Removing a pair of safety glasses from a container, she handed them to Flynn. “Always put these on whenever you come in here.”

  He did as she instructed, surprised at how tidy she kept the place. For some reason he’d expected to see beakers of peculiar-colored substances bubbling away over Bunsen burners with coils of copper tubing running to strange machines with complex gauges. Sure, there were a few odd-looking devices, but they looked more like parts of a computer than the stuff of Frankenstein movies.

  “Welcome to my home,” she stated quietly.

  Her comment bothered him. A lot. “It’s a lab, sweetheart, not a home.”

  “It’s home to me,” she explained. Something in the way she said it had him studying her with a watchful eye. “I’ve spent a lifetime in here. I’ve probably spent more hours in this one building than anywhere else, even my house.”

  “Now, there’s a scary thought.”

  “Want to hear a scarier one?”

  “Can I handle it?”

  “I don’t know.” She fixed him with deep green eyes, forest eyes, eyes that were at once sweetly naive and painfully shrewd. “I’ve only shared this place with four other people. Five, including you.”

  It was a telling admission and one that worried him. Her uncles had made a bad mistake keeping their niece imprisoned in this tiny town, and Jane was paying the price for it. It was like discovering Sleeping Beauty wandering alone through her castle, unaware that life existed beyond the wall of thickets that separated her from the outside world. Someone needed to rescue her.

  The thought stopped him cold and he rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. Aw, hell. Surely he wasn’t seeing himself in the role of Prince Charming? That would be too damn funny. He couldn’t think of anyone less equipped to play the part of hero than Flynn Morgan. The mere idea would send Paulie into a fit of hysterical laughter. Then his partner would slug him for stumbling across another damsel in distress and he’d be back where he started just a few short weeks ago.

  “I’m one of the people you’ve shared your lab with,” he prompted. “I assume your uncles make four. Who’s number five?”

  “Mick.”

  He’d figured as much. Still, the thought annoyed him. Mick didn’t deserve a place in Jane’s castle.

  She wandered past a workbench, running a hand over the stone surface. Nicks and stains marred the surface. Above the bench were shelves, neatly filled with glassware. Above others were ventilation hoods. And beneath the various workstations were locked cabinets. There were a half-dozen sinks placed at various distances along the benches, each with three different handles. The hot and cold water were obvious. He didn’t have a clue about the third.

  “It’s for deionized water,” she explained, noticing his interest.

  “Is this where you invent your perfumes?”

  “Not in this part of the complex. That’s done in the organic chemistry lab. We also do purification work there, identification and synthesis of various compounds.” She shot him a teasing look. “That’s where I keep the high explosives.”

  “Yuck it up, sweetheart. But your bill just doubled.”

  She grinned. “Oops.”

  “So what’s this room used for?”

  “It’s our analytical lab. There’
s nothing too hazardous in here other than some solvents and acids. And I keep those secured.”

  “That’s a relief.” He eyed some of the more impressive equipment. “What do you analyze?”

  “Anything. Everything. Basically, I have every piece of equipment necessary to analyze the composition of my perfumes. I can even analyze the air, people’s physiological reaction to the various solutions, not to mention—”

  “Jane.”

  She sighed. “I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

  “It’s not that I object to learning more about your work. Under other circumstances you could talk to your heart’s content. But that isn’t why you brought me in here, is it?”

  “No.”

  “I didn’t think so. If it wasn’t to show me your lab or to discuss security measures, then why?”

  She turned and faced him. He’d never seen her look so vulnerable. He wanted to warn her, explain how dangerous it was to open herself to a man like him. Such frankness could only lead to one place. And it wasn’t a place he wanted to take her or have her go.

  “You told me about your experiences at Lost Springs.” She shrugged self-consciously. “Or some of them. I imagine there’s a lot you’ve left unsaid.”

  “Count on it.”

  “Trust doesn’t come easily to you, does it?”

  “Not even a little.”

  She nodded in perfect understanding. “It doesn’t to me, either. But I suspect it’s for a different reason than it is for you.”

  “Mick?”

  “He was a contributing factor, but he wasn’t the main cause.”

  He released his breath in a slow sigh. “If it wasn’t him, then it had to be that trio of lunatics who raised you.”

  “If you mean my uncles, then yes.”

  “I’ll bet they had some crazy notions about parenting, didn’t they?”

  He half expected her to leap to their defense. But she didn’t. She simply shrugged. “They raised me the best they knew how. I was loved, Flynn. That made up for a lot.”