Riding the Waves

by Tawny Weber

  Which meant he shouldn’t be getting excited and hoping for more than just dinner. Alex tried to come to terms with the emotions battering his system.

  As if sensing his turmoil, Drucilla eyed him as she spooned chocolaty pudding over a layer of broken brownies.

  “Why’d you come by, again?” she asked.

  “I thought maybe we could spend the evening together. You know, just hang out.”

  She made a cute little O with her mouth.

  “I was hoping we could get to know each other. The real each other, better,” he added when she kept staring.

  She tilted her head, started to say something, then stopped.

  “The real each other?”

  “Yeah. You know, beyond the vacation and work personas.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

  He could actually see it. The razor-sharp dive off an emotional cliff, no safe landing in sight. Just a morass of commitment nightmares and painful circumstances.

  A dozen blithe excuses fumbled through his mind. Easy outs that would let him step back from the cliff without shame.

  “I have feelings for you, Drucilla. I don’t know what they are or where they’re going. I just know I want a chance to find out,” he confessed, despite the voice in his head screaming a warning.

  He didn’t care about warnings, though. He wanted to go to her, grab her and kiss her senseless. A few kisses and getting rid of that blouse and he was pretty sure he could convince her of anything.

  “Let’s start with dinner,” he finally suggested.

  Relief mingled with a giddy sort of happiness that left him feeling a little dorky. Alex grinned. Then Dru did something that made him feel even better. She changed the subject and started talking everyday stuff. He leaned back in the chair, letting the simple joy of just chatting wash away the dorkiness.

  Ten minutes later, she’d finished dessert, taken lasagna from the oven and they’d shared first-science-fair stories.

  She grimaced when she heard steps overhead.

  “Why do you look so unexcited?” he asked with a grin. “Are you worried about what your mom will think? Maybe you’re afraid she’ll start planning our future?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Hardly. I know she’ll hate you. I’m more worried about how you’ll feel about me after meeting her.”

  “Hate me?” His voice rose in shock.

  She arched a brow as if to say, Focus.

  “Feel about you?” he corrected quickly, even though his brain was still stuck on the hating thing. Parents never hated him.

  “My mother is…difficult.”

  “You mentioned that your parents moved a lot.” He glanced out the window at the postcard-size lawn and many pots of lush flowers. “And I can see what you meant about your mother’s green thumb. How does that translate to difficult?”

  She followed his glance as if looking for a description in the yard, then shrugged and faced him again. “Just promise me one thing.”

  “Anything.”

  “After dinner, you have to come back to my apartment for hot, wild sex.” She leaned over to kiss his slightly gaping mouth. “Promise.”

  Before he could do more than nod dumbly, she turned to greet her mother. Alex winced a little as he shifted in his chair, using the table to hide his driftwood-size hard-on. Not rising to greet the woman who looked like an older, unhappy version of Drucilla was rude. But greeting her while sporting a predinner woody was probably even ruder.

  Five minutes later, he was both presentable and a whole lot clearer on what Drucilla had meant. Her mother was…grumpy was the only word that came to mind. It was like having dinner with a little black rain cloud. But a sparkling smile peeked out every once in a while through the gloom.

  Beneath the negative attitude, though, it was crystal clear the woman loved her daughter. Pride lurked behind every critical reminder. Joy sparked when she took Alex through to see the display of science awards.

  He couldn’t wait to tell Drucilla she’d been wrong. He did like her mom. And he was pretty sure that while liking would be pushing the envelope, she at least didn’t hate him.

  But, damn, he was looking forward to their after-dinner treat anyway.

  12

  DRU WEAVED HER WAY through the upscale early crowd at the legendary Palace Hotel, unable to stop smiling. Life was good. Since that painfully awkward dinner at her mother’s house, and then the awesomely delicious “dessert” at her apartment, she’d spent every one of the last six nights with Alex.

  The project was going great, as well. Even Dr. Shelby said so. Her team was moving through the calculations faster than they’d anticipated, which boded well for funding. If they did, in fact, try to push this to the next level the way Alex wanted.

  She was having awesome sex regularly. Her mom had actually asked that she bring Alex back for dinner again and had even offered to cook. And, best of all, Dru had woken that morning to a gorgeous, hard-bodied man with his face between her thighs.

  Oh, yeah, life was pretty damn good.

  She giggled and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, worrying for just a second about leaving it down instead of confining it in a braid.

  Alex liked it loose.

  Dru reached the romantic gilt-and-crystal entrance of the Garden Court restaurant, sighing at the curved-glass ceilings and stunning chandeliers before stepping up to the maître d’ station. She tugged at her tan linen blazer and quickly dusted her fingers over her taupe slacks.

  Alex liked colors on her, too.

  Much like their sex life, he didn’t always get what he wanted. Her smile, perpetually on the surface these days, flashed again. Sometimes she was the one calling the shots.

  Her heels clipped across the marble floor as she made her way past the velvet settees to the linen-covered tables. She stepped onto the thick Oriental carpet, scanning the room carefully. Her gaze finally landed on the elegant brunette she recognized from the portfolio photo. It looked as if Dru wasn’t the only one who liked to arrive early. “Ms. Pownter?”

  The potential patron’s smile was chilly enough to make Dru want to take notes. Her ice princess act was nothing on this gal’s. Dru slid into the chair opposite the woman and smiled, ready to learn a thing or two.

  In the next half hour she’d gone beyond impressed to blown away. Charlene Pownter was not only financially savvy, she had more than a basic understanding of the cosmic string project and a firm grasp of the telescope’s potential. She was also in total control of the discussion, despite the fact that Dru was the supposed expert at the table.

  “I’ve read your project hypothesis and the suggested means of research. Based on your reputation, and Dr. Maddow’s, of course, I think there’s a great deal of potential here. I have to ask, do you really believe you need to go to these lengths to prove the cosmic strings’ gravitational influence on hydrogen gas in space?”

  Dru sipped the orange juice the waiter had just poured, and thanked him before smiling at Charlene.

  “I’ll be perfectly honest,” she said, leaning forward, “to date, we’re seeing a great deal of success in producing the mathematical model that should prove the theory quite viable. But as well as that’s going, I really do believe we stand to make a huge scientific impact by expanding the project and proving the hypothesis instead of simply substantiating it mathematically.”

  “And Dr. Maddow?”

  Dru didn’t figure she was asking about Alex’s huge impact.

  “What about him?”

  “Is he as integral to the project as our telephone conference indicated or was that his ego speaking?”

  Dru couldn’t stop her snort of laughter. Before she could assure the woman that Alex was a vital component to the project’s success, she saw him striding across the restaurant.

  “I think you’ll be just as impressed with Dr. Maddow in person as you were on the phone,” Dru demurred, standing so Alex could find them.

  “Ladies, you both look love
ly this morning,” he said when he reached their table. Dru’s lips twitched. Someone had the charm dial turned to High.

  Dru settled back in her chair and smiled, ready to enjoy the show.

  An hour later, Dru not only had a tummy filled with the best eggs Benedict she’d ever eaten, but she was totally inspired. She didn’t know whether it was the delicious food, the elegant atmosphere or the fact that Alex kept slyly rubbing his hand over her thigh, but the more he said, the more on board she was with the project.

  “Will you excuse me a moment,” Ms. Pownter said when Alex had finished describing the long-term scientific benefits of aligning her name and her organization to Trifecta.

  Dru waited until the other woman had cleared the velvet settees before she let the bubbling giggles free. Grinning, she leaned over and rubbed her hand on Alex’s thigh.

  “Okay, this is great,” she told him. “The more you talk about the project, the more excited I get.”

  “Excited, hmm?”

  She tilted her head to the side, her smile turning naughty.

  “Very excited,” she murmured, her hand on his thigh changing from enthusiastic to seductive.

  “Tell me more.”

  She bit her lip, glancing around to make sure nobody was nearby. “The sound of your voice when you talk about gravitational pull sends shivers through my body.”

  He caught her free hand, lifting it to his mouth and pressing a warm, moist kiss to her palm. “Tell me more.”

  Despite the pleasant tingles his kiss sent over her skin, she pulled her hand away. They’d agreed—well, she’d nagged until he’d given in—that their relationship was to be kept a strict secret.

  “The way you spoke, it was pure power. Your confidence, your assurance. Listening to you, I wanted to do anything you asked.” She leaned closer, letting her hand slide higher on his thigh. Her fingernails were within stroking distance of his dick, which from the activity beneath his zipper, looked pretty darned intrigued itself. Her gaze locked on his, her eyes soft and sultry as she whispered, “Anything.”

  “More coffee?”

  Dru almost jumped out of her chair, her hand flying off Alex’s lap and smacking against the bottom of the table. Eyes watering, she shook her head at the poker-faced waiter, glaring through her tears at Alex’s grin.

  “I’ll have half a cup,” Alex said. He waited until the man had moved on before arching a brow. “You were telling me how excited you are?”

  Dru took a long and slow breath through her nose, trying to calm herself. But instead, it just filled her senses with the rich aroma of coffee and made her feel a little shaky, as if she was getting a secondhand caffeine buzz. Nerves, she realized. Whether they were the aftermath of this meeting, or the usual sex-induced hyperawareness she usually had around Alex, she wasn’t sure.

  “Excited,” she said finally when he started to look at her weird. “Yes. I am excited. Thanks to you.”

  He lifted his fresh cup of steaming coffee, his smile turning cocky.

  “I wouldn’t have done any of this without your urging,” she told him, gesturing to the dish-strewn table and Charlene Pownter’s jacket. “You push me, Alex. You make me believe I can do…well, anything.”

  “You can do anything,” he said in that assured, offhand tone that told her he didn’t even think twice about it.

  “I can,” she acknowledged. “I can rock this project. I can woo clients. I can drive you crazy just by telling you how I’m going to use your body after this brunch.”

  His dark eyes narrowed as his breath hitched a bit. He shook his head as if he was reminding himself where they were.

  “Tell me more about your plans,” he said softly. Leaning back in the chair, he crossed his arms over his chest, looking very smug.

  “Don’t let your ego swell,” she teased, a little giddy at the idea that she might have some small power over Alex outside of the bed. Or the desk. Or the car. Or, well, anywhere that might lend itself to being a surface for sex.

  “I’m energized by the idea of working with the Pownter Institute,” she admitted, trying to get them both back on track. “I don’t know if it was your compelling presentation or the synchronicity of ideas flowing here at the table. But whatever it was, it hooked me. I’m fully invested now.”

  Dru saw Charlene returning.

  “I want the Pownter backing,” Dru said, folding both her hands safely in her own lap, but still leaning toward Alex to make her point. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to make it happen.”

  Amused, she watched his eyes light up with an excitement of his own. After a quick wink, she turned her attention to Charlene.

  “Dr. Robichoux, Dr. Maddow, thank you for waiting. I just spoke with my CEO. I’ll admit, I’m intrigued by your proposition. But I’m not sure I can justify such a major financial outlay without the guarantee of success.”

  “Charlene,” Alex said with a smile that Dru knew would have melted her own icy walls, but didn’t seem to cause a drip in their potential patron’s. “You’ve spent plenty of years dealing with the art and theory of science. You’ve backed biological research and geological experiments. You’ve built your institute’s reputation on smart choices, yes. But also on well-calculated risks.”

  “Very true,” Charlene said, her voice cold enough to make even Dru shiver. She wished she could keep control with such a chilly panache. “The issue at hand, though, isn’t the reputation of my institute. It’s the lack of a guarantee that concerns us.”

  Dru bit her lip, the rich hollandaise suddenly churning in her stomach. Well, this wasn’t good. She twisted her fingers together, trying to marshal some kind of convincing argument. But her brain was horribly blank. Her nerves had gotten the better of her.

  “Charlene, there are no guarantees in science,” Alex pointed out in a reasonable, somewhat amused tone. As if he was verbally rolling his eyes at the woman’s caution. Dru wasn’t sure if she should thank him or kick him.

  “You’ve seen the prospectus, as well as our hypothesis and outlines. Our theory is solid. The reputation of Trifecta is unquestionable. The real question here is how confident you feel in the team, wouldn’t you say?”

  Hazy spots flashed in front of Dru’s eyes. She tried to breathe through the sudden tightness in her chest. Her entire career spun behind her eyes in paranoid flashes.

  Alex shot her that arch-browed look of challenge. The same look that’d snookered her into surfing. The one that’d tempted her into beachside sex. The exact look that’d sent her dancing around a bonfire, naked. Then later, had convinced her to go along with his putting his damn rock-star twist on her cosmic string project.

  Which had brought her to this moment, right here and now in the elegant Garden Court restaurant, sitting opposite one of the wealthiest women in the country, betting the success of her entire career on this pitch.

  She hated that freaking irresistible look.

  “Ms. Pownter,” she started, her mind racing.

  “Charlene,” Alex said, his charming smile smothering Dru’s rescue attempt before she even got started. “We’ve all been around long enough to have seen a slew of improvable or untenable hypotheses. Oh, sure, they sound great in the beginning. The theory is plausible. The findings are valid. The data and methodology stand up well to scrutiny. But…”

  “But?” Dru and Charlene said together.

  Alex’s smile was pure male satisfaction. The same one he’d worn that time he’d made Dru come three times, then had her begging to go down on him with chocolate sauce.

  “But as you know, a scientific endeavor, no matter how sound or intriguing, often makes as much impact in the world as a used tissue. No amount of awards, kudos or acclaim can make it interesting to the general public.”

  Dru’s jaw sagged. Her gaze whipped over to their potential patron, who was calmly sipping her coffee with a look of placid interest, aka, boredom.

  Well this whole deal was obviously going to hell. Dru was pretty sure reaching over
and smacking Alex upside the head couldn’t hurt things any worse. Curling her itching fingers into her palm to keep her hand in check, she raised her own brow, inclined her head and unable to help herself, asked, “And what exactly does this fascinating assessment of the sciences have to do with our project, Dr. Maddow?”

  His grin widened and he gave her a proud look, as if she was a prize pupil who’d just asked the perfect question.

  “The achievement we’re looking for here isn’t just proving the string hypothesis, although that’s admittedly an integral key to our success. The bigger goal is, of course, to garner fame, attention and a financial return from a larger segment of society than just fellow scientists.”

  Dru sighed. Here we go, she thought. The introductory bars to Mr. Rock-Star Scientist’s theme song.

  “There’s actually a specific key to making that happen,” Alex said. “That key is all about people. The people on the team, the people promoting the project and the people following its progress. The Pownter Institute understands spin. And there’s nothing more spinable than the lady in charge of this project.”

  Alex and Charlene both turned their heads to stare at Dru. She opened her mouth to ask “huh?” then closed it again, realizing a dense display of cluelessness would probably derail Alex’s pitch.

  A pitch that had just gotten very interesting. For the next ten minutes, Dru had to use every icy technique she’d ever learned to keep her cool. Alex talked her up. Alex talked her down. He trotted out her degrees, every paper she’d ever published, and waxed poetic on her theoretical skills. By the time he wound up his dissertation on her wonderfulness, Dru was blown away.

  Oh, sure, she was impressed with how great he made her sound. And that he knew so much about her. The man had obviously done more homework than just what flavor body oils she preferred.

  But what really got her was that he was making this all about her. The woman whose own mother had so many doubts about her ability to succeed that she kept a bedroom ready in case Dru needed to move home.

  He’d totally focused on her. It was as if he was pinning the entire success of the project on her abilities. Given that his was a much bigger name than hers was, it was a huge testament to his faith in her.