by Talia Hunter
He expected her to protest about the heels as loudly as she had in the store, but she slipped them on and then gave her reflection a nod. “I look like someone to be reckoned with.”
“You’ve always been an unstoppable force. But now your outside matches your inside a little better.”
She reached out and took his hand. “Thank you, Blake.”
He shrugged, conscious of the warmth of her skin and the closeness of her body. “It’s nothing. If Professor Pompous doesn’t swallow his tongue when he sees you, let me know. I’ll come down and set him straight.”
Her hand squeezed his. “With luck I’ll get Dr. Partington’s attention long enough to convince him of the value of my research. Once he hears about what I’ve been doing, he won’t be able to say no to me.”
Blake’s mouth twitched up. The guy didn’t stand a chance. Caylee was the most determined woman he’d ever met. No, the most determined person he’d ever met. Amazing what kind of fire hid inside that small, delicate frame. Yeah, she was one hell of a woman. So what was he thinking, sending her to another man looking so damn sexy?
Blake shook the thought out of his head. He refused to be jealous of a math professor who was most likely at least seventy years old. Besides, nothing more could happen between him and Caylee. He’d already made that decision.
She stared down at her hand, still swallowed up inside his. Her eyes stayed there as though she were studying the way their fingers intertwined. As though their two hands together were a math problem that had suddenly captured her attention and focused her thoughts. “Do you still want to have dinner tonight?”
He blinked. He hadn’t expected that question. But when did she ever do what he expected? Her face was serious. The flippant way he’d previously invited—no, assumed—she’d go to dinner with him seemed all wrong now, and sharing a meal didn’t seem like such a casual thing, now he’d decided to stay strictly hands-off.
“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” he said finally.
“Are you still angry because I was so rude on the boat?”
“Of course not.”
“Then why not?”
Her hand was still nestled in his. Had she changed her mind about wanting him?
With most women it was easy to tell when they were interested in him by the way they flirted. But Caylee was nothing like those women. Even knowing her so well, Caylee was still a mystery. She was both familiar and mysterious—and completely intriguing. How was it that she managed to make him feel like he wasn’t completely in control? He didn’t like not calling the shots. He’d built a fortune from nothing by taking charge, setting goals, and not letting anything throw him off track. He hated feeling so unsure of himself around Caylee, like he didn’t know whether to kiss her or run the hell away. No woman had ever made him feel as off-balance as he felt around her. But she wasn’t just any woman, she was Caylee Reynolds, the girl who’d practically saved his sorry teenaged life. He couldn’t lie to her or pretend that, because of their shared past, she wasn’t attached to a shit-ton of baggage in his head. She was the one woman in the world he couldn’t stand to hurt. Which meant he had to tell her the truth.
“Listen, Caylee. I’m leaving in a few days. Right after my friends’ wedding I’m flying to Indonesia to start work on another resort. I can’t have any complications in my life right now. So, yeah, dinner is fine. But I don’t want you to think there can be anything more between us than that.”
She tore her hand out of his, and shot him a flinty green-eyed glare. “I’m sorry if you misunderstood me.” Her tone was frosty. “I’m not sure what the women you normally go out with are used to, but I wasn’t inviting you to partake of anything other than dinner.”
Blake’s anger flared. Shit, he was just trying to be up-front with her! How many times did she have to bite his head off? Yeah, he got the message loud and clear. Hands off. No problem.
“Fine,” he snapped. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”
“And I have a conference to attend.” She took a deep breath, and her voice lost some of its chill. “Thank you for being honest with me, Blake. I hope you can be as forthright about everything else.” She turned and walked out, and Blake stared after her with a confused frown. His mind was spinning into places he didn’t want it to go.
Chapter Seven
Walking back into the conference this time was a very different experience. It seemed like every face in the room turned toward Caylee. Her red dress was a vibrant splash of color that stood out among all the dark, drab shirts. The height of her heels forced her to walk with a definite sway in her step, and she felt her curls bounce around her shoulders with every stride.
Long-term wear might shorten her medial gastrocnemius muscles, but Blake had been right about the psychological benefit of wearing high heels. Instead of having to summon her courage to approach someone and introduce herself, she found herself striding confidently up to a group. She was welcomed with smiles and discovered they were having an interesting discussion about quantum theory. But she barely had time to share her opinion before a tap on her shoulder made her turn.
“Dr. Partington.” She tried to keep any trace of satisfaction from her face. This time he’d come to her, and that had to be a good sign.
“Miss Reynolds.” He looked her up and down even more obviously than he had before, and his snake tongue flicked across his top lip. “You’ve done something different?” He waved his limp white hand at her.
“I was due for a hair appointment so I stopped in at the salon.”
“Ah.” He blinked slowly. “That explains it. You look very nice.”
“I was hoping to speak to you again,” said Caylee. “I think you dismissed my research too quickly when we spoke before. The work that I’m doing is—”
“You’re going to present your research paper here at the conference?”
Caylee clenched her hands into fists. He’d cut her off again. Maybe the red dress had gotten his attention, but he wasn’t being any less obnoxious. “That’s right. I’m working on a new proof of irrationality.” She drew herself up tall on the high heels she was now very glad she’d worn and fixed him with a glare. “My research is exciting and innovative and I’d welcome a chance to go into more detail than will be possible during my presentation.”
“May I call you Caylee?”
She blinked at him, thrown by the sudden change in subject. “Yes, of course.” Odious man. What she wanted to say was “absolutely not,” with some rude words thrown in for good measure, but this unbearable snake-man held the key to her future, so she kept her temper in check.
“You’re certainly passionate about your research, aren’t you, Caylee?”
“Yes?” She hadn’t meant her answer to sound like a question, but she had no idea what he was driving at.
“Then it’s only fair that I allow you a chance to convince me. Say, over dinner tomorrow night?”
She gaped at him for a moment, then closed her mouth and nodded. “Dinner,” she repeated. It was perfectly normal for the head of a funding body to take a researcher out for dinner. It was only because he hadn’t made a good impression that her mind was turning the invitation into something nasty. “Yes, dinner. Thank you.”
“Shall we say seven o’clock at the hotel restaurant?” He turned away before she had a chance to agree and she glared at his back, furious at the way he’d dismissed her. Even if he decided to continue her funding, he was still a snake. But at least now she had a chance.
She took several deep breaths to calm down before rejoining the quantum theory discussion. But she was too distracted to concentrate, and she soon escaped back up to the suite and shut herself in her room. She was determined to work out exactly what to say to Dr. Partington over tomorrow night’s dinner to convince him she was the best candidate to receive funding. If only she had her presentation, it would be so much easier.
She grabbed the telephone next to the bed and made yet another
call to the airline, only to have a woman—who sounded very young and very bored—tell her they were doing all they possibly could to find her bag. She hung up wanting to strangle someone. Her luggage had to arrive tomorrow. She could download her slideshow, although the file size was huge and she’d have to find another portable drive in order to run it. But she couldn’t do without her precious notebook filled with neat equations, and she’d have to try to rewrite her speech, which had taken her weeks to get right. If only she’d typed the final version into the computer instead of laboriously hand-printing it onto a stack of palm-sized cards. Without them her chances of impressing anybody dropped significantly.
Caylee stood up and paced back and forth beside the bed, going through what she could tell Dr. Partington. But no matter how hard she tried to concentrate, her mind kept slipping back to Blake. Did he really think he had to warn her that he didn’t have time for a romantic relationship? He was the one who’d kissed her, not the other way around. She’d pulled away precisely because any distraction from her work was the very last thing she needed right now, when her career was on the line. Besides the fact that she wasn’t the kind of person to have a fling with anyone when she knew she’d be leaving in just a couple of days, there was absolutely no way she’d want to be with a man who’d already torn her heart out once. If only she could stop thinking about him. If she could open the top of her skull and scoop him right out of her mind, she’d do it.
Instead, Caylee found her hand reaching once more for the telephone next to her bed. It was four p.m. in Australia, which meant it was ten a.m. in LA. The perfect time to ring her sister.
As she listened to the ringing sound, waiting for Lana to answer her cell, Caylee picked up the little message pad and pen that were sitting on her bedside table and started drawing concentric circles that radiated out from a singular point. Lana freelanced, so she’d either be at home tapping away on her computer or, if things weren’t too hectic, she could be out walking her big Labrador, Rusty.
“Hello?” Her sister sounded like she was outside. Must be a slow day.
“How are you, Lana?”
“Caylee! I’m great, actually.” Lana sounded happy. The way she bounced from one unsuitable man to another, talking to a cheerful Lana meant she’d probably just met someone new. Caylee had no intention of asking her. It was better not to know.
“Rusty, stop that. Bad dog!” Lana groaned. “He’s all wet now. Anyway, how’s the tropical island you’re living it up on, while you pretend to go to some boring old conference?”
“It’s not so good,” said Caylee.
“Oh? Do tell.”
“Do you remember Blake Samson? He used to live next door a long time ago?”
“Yeah, of course. You cut his leg open.”
“That’s him.” Caylee bit her lip. After years of putting up with Blake’s antics, teasing, and tricks, her seventeen-year-old self had finally snapped.
She’d been given a certificate for being first in class, nothing special, just another printed card with her name on it to add to her collection. But when Blake folded it up into an airplane and flew it out of her window, an unexpected rage had burst from her that was so passionate and violent it still frightened her even after all these years. She’d flown at him, punching and kicking, meaning to hurt him. He’d stumbled backward against the bookcase, then somehow stepped forward into the sharp blade of one of her barely-used ice skates that were on the shelf. The sight of so much blood gushing out of his leg had shocked the rage right out of her, thank heavens. She never wanted to feel that angry about anything again.
The strange thing was, it was because of that day that her feelings for him had changed. After that fight he’d stayed away and, far from being glad that his taunting presence was out of her life, she’d discovered she missed him. Her bedroom no longer stank of smoke, but it felt empty without him teasing her as she tried to concentrate on her homework. Though she’d always complained about him playing annoying songs by bands she’d never heard of, now it was too quiet. Her books weren’t vandalized, but there weren’t little jokes scrawled in them either, one-liners to crack her up in the middle of class. Nobody pulled her braid or put ice cubes in her shoes. She hadn’t realized how boring it would be without him.
She’d hated the way he treated her. And when he was gone, she’d wanted him back so badly that she’d started thinking about him in inappropriate ways.
Her crush was totally illogical. It made no sense. But no matter how sternly she reasoned with herself, she couldn’t make the feelings go away.
“He also stole Grandma’s wedding ring.” said Caylee.
“Oh, yeah, the night he left! You were devastated. And I wasn’t as sympathetic as I should have been, because I was jealous of you for having the ring in the first place. I always wished Grandma had left it to me.”
Lana didn’t know that Caylee had spent the night with Blake. Nobody knew. When she’d discovered Blake had ransacked her room and disappeared without a word, she’d been too embarrassed about her terrible judgment to confess her mistake to anyone. Especially when she was always telling Lana how foolish she was for dating bad boys.
“He’s here on the island,” said Caylee.
“What’s he like now?” Lana asked. “Still gorgeous, I bet. You know I wanted to marry him, right?”
“You wanted to marry Blake Samson?”
“Hey, don’t sound so surprised. I also wanted to marry our dentist, nearly every boy I used to walk past on the way to school, and the guy who worked Saturday mornings in the store up the road. And the store guy had a Mohawk, can you believe it?” Lana’s shudder came through the phone line. “Back then I was willing to look past all that over-gelled hair in my search for true love.”
“Blake owns the resort I’m staying in.”
“Does he?” There was a short silence on the other end of the phone as her sister took the information in. “It doesn’t surprise me he’s done well. That he’d steal Grandma’s ring when he knew it was so precious to you proves he’s ruthless. That sort always gets rich.” Lana laughed. “You know, he was always the cutest of my crushes. Well, maybe he tied for first place with Mr. Barnard, the hot dentist with the big drill.”
“Would you be serious for a moment?”
“Honey, you’ve always been serious enough for the both of us.” Lana’s bracelets jangled. Caylee could imagine her waving her hand around, gesticulating on the phone as much as she did when they talked face-to-face. “Besides, even though I lusted after Blake, he always ignored me so he could spend all his time with my annoying sister. He only ever had eyes for you.”
“You mean, he enjoyed torturing me.”
“To-mato, to-mahto.” The words were full of satisfaction. “It’s the same thing whatever you call it.”
“He’s still torturing me.”
“What do you mean?”
“He insisted I get my hair done and bought me clothes I didn’t want. As though I had no say in it whatsoever.”
“Oh, honey, that sounds terrible. Right up there with water-boarding. Want me to call Amnesty International and let them know?”
Caylee hesitated, drawing a line of right isosceles triangles that went from one side of the notepaper to the other. “And he kissed me.”
“The horror!” Her sister’s voice dripped with delight. “So come on, I need details! Was it good? Is he the delicious kisser I always imagined he would be?”
“Why aren’t you disgusted? He stole Grandma’s ring! He’s a liar and a thief, and I can’t trust him. Goodness knows why I let him anywhere near me.”
“Honey, don’t beat yourself up. Blake was always gorgeous, and I can only imagine how irresistible he must be now.” Lana sighed. “He must have a totally hot bad boy thing going on. Damn! Why can’t it be me over there instead of you?”
“You’re not helping.”
“I can’t help it. I’ve always had a thing for the bad ones.”
Caylee win
ced, but managed not to say anything cutting. Bad ones was an understatement. Her sister’s endless parade of dead-beat losers was a sore point, especially when Lana related horror stories like when her boyfriend got drunk and totaled her car, or the morning she woke up to find the other side of the bed empty and her purse missing. When would Lana find a man worthy of her?
“Well.” Caylee changed the subject. “Blake Samson is really the last thing I should be worrying about. My funding is in danger of being pulled, and if I lose that money I won’t be able to continue with my research. That’s why I called, to ask for advice. I’m supposed to be concentrating on saving my career, but all I can think about is how annoying it is that Blake assumed one dinner with him would make me want to fall into his bed.”
“You’re having dinner together?”
“He had the nerve to warn me that he was going away in a few days so he didn’t want any romance to start. As though he expected I’d find him impossible to resist.”
“But aren’t you?”
“Aren’t I what?”
“Finding him hard to resist?”
Caylee closed her eyes as the memory of Blake’s tongue lightly flicking across her bottom lip twisted her stomach into knots. “Lana, haven’t you been listening? That’s exactly my problem. How do I get him out of my head?”
“How about you screw him totally senseless and get it out of your system?”
Caylee sighed. “You just want me to sleep with him, don’t you?” No matter what Lana said, that wasn’t going to happen. There was no way she’d ever make that mistake again.
“So? You need a little fun. You’re wound far too tight, honey. I worry about you.”
That was funny, Lana worrying about her. Her sister should worry about her own life, because Caylee was perfectly in control. And she wasn’t wound up tight, either, she was rightly concerned about her career. “You’re not helping,” she said again.
“What do you want me to say? He’s obviously under your skin and, believe me, once they get in, some men take a lot of digging to get them out again.”