He leaned close enough to her that he could whisper in her ear, and smell her shampoo. “How’s this—after the meeting and after you’re mentioned as a mover and shaker, I’ll run interference for you. Get you out of here before anyone else can tell you that you’re awesome.”
This time when her head whipped around, she was grinning. Honest to God grinning. And it practically made her glow from within. Then she giggled and elbowed him with a “Shush.”
Jason had made Marsie grin. He could count this day as a win.
CHAPTER NINE
MARSIE STOOD IN the lobby of the restaurant, trying not to look impatient and awkward by shifting her weight from foot to foot, wondering if she should have changed. Just because this wasn’t a date didn’t mean that she didn’t feel overdressed in her navy suit. And boring in her flats.
It was just dinner with Jason. Hell, he’d even seen her today and knew what she was wearing. He’d know if she changed.
And this wasn’t a date. They were meeting to talk about their dates with other people, for Pete’s sake. And come up with strategies for dating other people. Other people being the key phrase. They weren’t trying to date each other. He didn’t feel a spark for her, and she knew they weren’t compatible. And she was looking for more than compatible.
Though she had arranged a second date with Trevor, so maybe she wasn’t. Maybe she was going to have to settle for compatible, because it was the only way to find anyone.
The door opened and Jason stepped into the restaurant, his face breaking into a smile as soon as he saw her. When he smiled, the corners of his blue eyes turned up to match his mouth. And his lips looked full and kissable.
“Hey,” he said.
She started, wondering if he’d noticed that she’d been staring at his lips. Other dates. Jason wasn’t her type. He was nice and fun and interesting and she liked talking to him, but he wouldn’t get a high enough score in her algorithm. All that fun and interesting wouldn’t make them compatible in the long run.
“Hey,” she said. “You changed.”
“Yeah. That’s why I was late. I don’t like going out to dinner in my work clothes. Lunch is okay.”
“Oh. Well...” This wasn’t a date. He changed out of his work clothes. Not into date clothes. There was a difference.
And why was she nervous? This wasn’t a date!
“You look good,” he said. “You always look good.”
“I look like a woman trying to dress like a man.” ’Cause that’s what she was. Especially on days like today, when she’d given a big presentation to leaders in the company. She wanted other scientists and her boss to forget her sex when they saw her. They were supposed to hear research when she talked, not a woman talking about research.
There was a difference, even if the research community pretended there wasn’t.
Even if there was a difference, admitting that’s how she tried to dress wasn’t something she did often and to just anyone. Sometime over the course of their growing friendship, Marsie had realized it was okay to tell Jason things. Not just the good things—like getting a several-million-dollar grant—but the date things, like about how she dressed.
“Yeah,” he said. His voice warm and deep, with a rumble that ran right through her. “And you look hot doing it. I get why you change for your dates. I mean, they don’t know that you spend your days being the smartest person in the room, so I don’t think they would appreciate your daily superhero costume. You have to keep that part of your identity a secret from them until they know you well enough to be able to handle it.”
Superhero costume? She took another glance at her button-down. It was blue and fitted and didn’t seem much like a costume of any kind, much less a superhero one.
But she suddenly felt much better about her choice of clothes. The next time she was feeling like being a woman in science was an uphill battle, she would remember that Jason had called her the smartest person in the room, and she would straighten her shoulders and keep marching.
“Don’t worry, though,” he said, clearly unware of the great change in her perspective that he’d just made. “I’m man enough to stand close to the sun.”
“Follow me,” the hostess said as she grabbed two menus and gestured at them. They followed her to the back room.
“The waitress will be by soon to tell you the specials.”
“Thanks,” Marsie said a little breathlessly. Jason had called her a superhero. He’d said that someone had to be man enough to stand close to the sun when they were around her.
In one casual conversation, he’d given her more sincere compliments than Richard had in their years of dating. She peeked over her menu at him. The hems of his yellow polo shirt were tight around his biceps, and a small touch of hair poked out from around the collar, where the top button was undone. His carefully maintained scruff looked a little rougher at the end of the day, but his eyes were still a clear, sparkling blue.
And she felt like she was seeing him for the first time.
“So how was your date?” He asked the question with the same breezy casualness with which he’d told her she was amazing. The same breezy casualness that he used for everything.
He might think she was the smartest person in the room, but they were here to talk about other people they’d been on dates with.
And smart wasn’t the same thing as attractive or can’t live without.
And Jason wasn’t her type anyway.
“Oh,” she said, pasting cheer in her voice while slapping a smile on her face. “My date was good. Trevor was his name. He got a near perfect score on my algorithm. Not a fluke. He seemed as good in person as on the screen.”
Jason’s head whipped up. “Algorithm? I think I know what an algorithm is, but I also think I’ve got to be wrong, because I don’t know how you use one dating.”
Marsie flushed. “I’ve got an equation where I put a score on all the men I’m interested in online. All the scores are weighted based on what I think is important. The score determines if I’ll email someone or go on a date.”
He put down his menu. “Do you score all the men you see?”
She didn’t understand what he meant. “If I’ve gone on a date with them, they have a score.”
“No, I mean, when you get a list of ‘men chosen just for you’ or browsing around at photos or whatever, do you score every man you see. That sounds tiring.”
“Oh. No.” She bit her lip. “I score all the men the site’s algorithm says I should look at. But if I’m just poking around on the site, I only score the ones that look attractive in the first place.” She stared at her menu without seeing any of the words. “It’s a flaw in the system. Attractiveness isn’t even weighted highly in my algorithm. So I shouldn’t be weeding men out of the pool on it. But I do.”
His mouth dropped open, but the appearance of the waitress to take their order stopped whatever he was going to say. They ordered some appetizers and a pitcher of beer to share.
“So what I was going to say is...your flaw in the system isn’t that you’re weeding men out of the pool, or however it was you said that. It’s that you have a system in the first place. Love and romance isn’t about math, it’s a gut feeling. Sparks.”
“Sparks?”
“Yeah. You know, that buzz in your blood. Excitement. Interest. I’m not saying that the angels will sing when you meet the right person, but you’ll know.”
“But what if those sparks come with someone completely unsuitable?”
He shrugged. “What’s unsuitable? Is the person a drug dealer? Twenty years younger than you?”
“No, but you don’t share the same interests. You don’t have the same education or you don’t understand the other person’s job. There are base things you have to have in common or no amount of sparks will keep th
at relationship going for longer than a year. Maybe two. Long enough for it to change your life, and probably not for the better.”
“Are you speaking from experience?”
“Not personally. I’ve not dated someone unsuitable for me. But my parents are an example of what not to do. Ever. They were all spark and no commonality. They got married, had me and got a divorce. They still hate each other.”
“Well, I speak from the same experience. I’ve not felt the sparks with a girl yet, but my parents were all spark. They got married after a couple months of knowing each other. My mom said she knew my father was the one she was going to marry almost instantly.”
He lifted his hands in the air, fingers wide, eyes big and a smile that said he knew he was right. “Sparks.”
“But what happens when the sparks die off and you don’t have anything to talk about? You don’t like the same books or the same movies. What do you do, then?”
“I think I’d rather be with someone who liked different movies and different books. So I could learn something from them.”
“Different everything isn’t practical.”
He waved away her objection. “I know. It’s also not really possible. There needs to be overlap somewhere. I keep the building from falling down, but I know enough about statistics to know that complete lack of overlap isn’t probable.” He smiled. “Probable is a statistics term, right?”
“You’re close.” She smiled and reached for her water glass, enjoying herself immensely. “And improbable things happen all the time.”
He cocked his head, clearly not following her.
“The world is amazing and vast.” She set her glass down so that she could talk with her hands. When she talked about math, she needed to be able to use her hands. Sometimes a scratch pad and pen. Or napkin. Or the back on an envelope.
“Not quite infinite, but close enough at the margins that it might as well be. Like the difference between zero point nine with a million nines following and one. And the sweeping possibilities of the world mean that improbable—but still possible—things are happening right now.”
His arms folded across his chest as he sat back in his chair, but he didn’t look angry about being corrected. Or even irritated. He was assessing, though Marsie wasn’t sure if he was assessing her or the mini-lecture she’d just given until he smiled and nodded slowly. “That might be the most mind-blowing thing I’ve ever heard. I’m going to have to think about that for a while before I’m sure I’ve come anywhere close to understanding it.”
“Sometimes, when I think about the size of the world, I have to sit down. It’s so awesome.”
“Okay, then we’re back to going with your gut and whether two people can meet, have sparks and get married while having nothing in common. It’s not probable, but you say improbable things happen.”
“Right.” Fun bubbled through her body. Talking statistics and math was always fun, but talking about it with Jason was better, because she felt like she was sharing a part of herself with him and that he appreciated it. He wasn’t just listening to her; he was listening to her. “So what then?”
“Then they have kids and talk about their kids.”
“Maybe having kids is one of the things they don’t have in common. That certainly happened with my parents. My dad loves me, but I’m still not sure he’s glad I’m in this world.”
The waitress came by with their snacks, putting a couple plates of fried food in front of them. The break in conversation was nearly enough for Marsie to stop talking. The story she was telling was personal and acknowledging it cut deep.
But it was Jason sitting across the table from her. Jason, who was the break from work she looked forward to. Jason, who shared his lunch with her when she forgot to stop to eat. And Jason, whose response to everything she was down to the core of her existence had always been supportive and interested.
With Jason, she always felt like a complete, round, solid person. No holes. No abrasive corners cutting at the fabric of the world.
Whole.
Too bad he wouldn’t score well in her algorithm. Even if they had movies in common, he didn’t have the kind of education background and career that she was looking for. That lifestyle similarity was the kind of connection that would last a lifetime, which was why it was weighted so heavily in her algorithm.
She reached for a croquette, mostly to give herself something to hold on to while she confessed. “I think if my father could go back in time and undo the decisions that led to my mom’s pregnancy, he would. And poof, I’d be gone.”
Jason jumped forward in his seat, his arms out like he was going to leap up and give her a hug. She would have liked that hug. But they shared food and conversation. They didn’t share hugs, and he settled back in his seat, saying only, “Oh, God, I’m sorry.”
He didn’t try to correct her or tell her that she must be wrong, parents were always glad their children were in this world. She appreciated his restraint, though she wished he would pull her close and take her in his strong arms. She’d bet those biceps would feel good when wrapped around her. And he was a little shorter than she liked in a man, but she could rest her head on his shoulder instead of against his chest, and that would be nice.
“Yeah.” For the first time when she’d mentioned how her father felt about her, she didn’t try to diminish how terrible it felt. And how adrift she’d always been and how much she wanted someone to belong to.
“He’s wrong, of course.”
“Well, he’s probably right that he should never have had kids.” She laughed uncomfortably. “But time doesn’t march backward, so it doesn’t matter what should have happened. I’m here no matter what.”
“And what does this asshole do? Where is he?”
“He’s a professor of economics. In California,” she said wryly.
“Ah. I remember you saying you were following in his footsteps.” Understanding dawned across his face.
“Yeah.”
“Is he proud of you?”
She shrugged. “I guess. I’m not a professor at a prestigious university, so I get points taken off. But he likes to think he had influence in my choice of study.”
“Even if he had influence for all the wrong reasons and there’s no reason he should be proud? Especially if he didn’t have much to do with your upbringing.”
“Right. He wouldn’t see it that way.” She shook her head. “He’d never talk about the importance of blood or whatever, but I think he sees my choice of study as proof that...what’s the saying, blood will win out. He must be smart, because without any influence from him, his daughter chose the same profession and is making a nice living at it.”
“Um, I think you’re awesome and there’s nothing less about being a researcher versus a professor, but how would he account for the difference?”
“Oh. There’s a math explanation for that, too. The law of averages. With iterations, everything reverts to the average. Tall men have shorter sons. Streaks end. Luck runs out.”
“I don’t think I like your dad much,” Jason said, picking up his beer.
“Lots of people don’t. He’s not a warm person. But he had spark with my mom. She can’t explain it, but she says she can still feel it when she thinks about him. And he married her, so he must have felt the same way at some point. But their spark was closer to nuclear war than campfire.”
“What happens when you meet the perfect guy?” He put down his beer, his palms open like he was trying to reach out and grab something. Maybe his beer. Maybe food. Maybe an understanding of the word that both of them kept trying to grasp and neither of them would ever be able to.
“Maybe the guy you went out with yesterday. You agree on everything. You share the same level of education. You’re both professionals—no blue collar to be seen.” He said those words with a
snap that struck her skin.
“You especially agree on how many kids you want to have, and you have a plan on when to have them. But when it comes to climbing into bed every night or waking up next to him in the morning, there’s no...”
“Spark,” she finished for him, leaning into his argument and the passion with which he believed he was right.
“Maybe there’s even the opposite of spark. Repulsion. Not only doesn’t he excite you when he leans over you in bed, but a headache develops.”
The restaurant was bright, with creamy yellow walls and lots of red, but Jason’s eyes had darkened with intensity. Her mind drifted away from the conversation, to lying in bed with him. To the shift in the mattress when he pressed one of his strong hands on the sheets next to her shoulder. The heat of his breath as his face got closer to hers. The feel of her breasts bumping against his chest as he pressed down and excitement rushed her breathing.
Once that image punctured the wall she’d had between thinking about Jason and thinking about sex, she couldn’t get it out of her head.
Those eyes. Thinking about those eyes made her tingle between her thighs, like his smile brought an answering smile to her face.
“No kids. You have to have sex to have kids.”
“Not necessarily,” she countered. “I could find a donor. I make a good living. I could do it on my own.”
“Then why are you dating online? Why not find the nearest sperm bank and do it that way, no spark needed?”
“Because I want...” She stopped.
One of his brows was raised. “Do I have to say it?”
She shook her head. “Because I want that connection. Because I don’t want to be alone. Because life, like movie theater popcorn or a bottle of wine, is better when shared.”
“No spark and you might as well be raising a child with a roommate. That’s a shared life, but not what you’re looking for.”
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