Beyond the Ivory Tower (4 page)

“It shouldn’t take long,” he said, dipping his head to inhale the faint scent of citrus and sunshine that had been teasing him all afternoon. “Come with me?”

She sighed. “Thanks, but I think I’ll pass.”

He couldn’t really blame her. Returning to the summit meant revisiting the one contentious topic they’d managed to avoid all afternoon. And while he appreciated Anna’s strong sense of conviction and admired her willingness to defend her position, he didn’t want to waste whatever time they had together on arguing.

“What about dinner? I can make reservations for seven-thirty or eight.” He fished out his cell phone with his free hand. “French-Italian okay with you?”

She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not dressed for anything fancy.”

“Jorge will drive you back to your hotel. You’ll have plenty of time to change.”

“Into what?” she said, pulling away. “I wasn’t exactly expecting to spend a night on the town.”

Ah. Well, if that was her only objection…

He finished texting his driver and pocketed the phone before running a practiced eye over her figure. Not that he really needed to. After spending most of the day in her company, her image and proportions were imprinted on his brain. But he enjoyed the view, at least until she crossed her arms over her chest and frowned.

He stifled a grin. “I’ll send over a dress. And shoes.”

“What?”

“And matching lingerie,” he added, picturing her in nothing but a silk-and-lace confection. Something scant and easy to remove. His nostrils flared.
Oh, yeah.

“No.” She shook her head. “Absolutely not.”

She took a step back, then another, nearly toppling off the curb. Ethan grabbed her arm just in time. Instead of letting go once she was out of danger, he drew her slowly against him. She glared at him. “You are not buying me clothes.”

“Don’t worry.” His lips grazed the curve of her ear. “I have good taste.”

His fingers slid down her back, urging her closer. He nearly groaned at the feel of her stomach pressed against his groin. Too bad they were standing on a busy street, surrounded by a gaggle of tourists, the smell of salt and fish and motor oil in the air.

She drew a shuddering breath and pushed on his chest. “Ethan…”

“Yes?”

She pushed again and he forced himself to let go.

“Why don’t you call me when you’re done?” she said. “I’ll find a place that’s nice and casual and close by. My treat. Okay?”

He stared at her, waiting for the punch line. In the distance, he could hear the clanging of an approaching cable car. Seagulls screeched and circled overhead. Conversations in a dozen different languages swirled around them. And still Anna stood there, waiting for his response.

That’s when it dawned on him that she might be serious.

My treat.

When had a woman ever offered to buy him dinner? Or turned down the opportunity to acquire designer clothes at his expense?

A black Mercedes glided to a stop beside them. The driver got out, but Ethan waved him back. “I’ve got this.”

He ushered Anna into the back and slid in beside her. His hand found hers, and he laced their fingers together. Something odd and unfamiliar settled in his chest. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Anna sat at one end of the long mirrored bar, nursing a Caipirinha. The bartender had assured her it was the connoisseur’s cocktail of choice—a little tart, a little sweet, and very, very smooth. She’d never had one before, but this was a day of firsts.

Between glass shelves stocked with bottles of various shapes and colors, she could see her own wavering reflection. She fiddled with her hair, wondering if she should have put it up the way she usually did. It felt strange, brushing the bare skin between her shoulder blades every time she moved her head. Or maybe she just wasn’t used to having so much exposed skin. The flirty halter top dress was a last-minute impulse buy at a second hand shop down the street from her hotel. The clerk had talked her into getting a matching satin clutch and red heels that added five inches to her height. Though she questioned the wisdom of that particular purchase, the choice between stilettos and her usual flats was a no-brainer.

For the second time in twenty minutes, she opened the evening bag and checked her cell. Nope, no missed calls or new messages. Nothing but the original exchange of texts setting the meeting time and location, and a three-word update some forty minutes ago:

Sorry, running late.

She slid the phone back in place. She’d stocked the purse for every contingency. Driver’s license, room key, credit card, emergency cash. Tissues, mints, a mini packet of wet wipes, and two condoms—courtesy of the pharmacy she’d passed on the way back from her shopping trip.

She raised the drink to her lips, then frowned. Nothing left but ice cubes and a wedge of lime. Catching the bartender’s eye, she tapped the glass and nodded.

By the time Ethan arrived, windblown and apologetic, Anna’s vision had gone fuzzy around the edges. Maybe that second Caipirinha on an empty stomach hadn’t been such a good idea.

She tried to focus on what he was saying. Something about a photo opp with the newest batch of Talbot Fellows that turned into an impromptu Q & A session. The details blurred, and she kept getting distracted by his peek-a-boo dimple and the shimmering halo effect caused by some low-hanging pendant lights suspended over the bar.

When a waiter announced their table was ready, Anna slid off her stool and swayed on unsteady legs. Ethan’s hand settled around her waist, and she leaned against him.

“Sorry,” she murmured. “Still getting used to the heels.”

“No worries.” He guided her toward the table where the waiter had stopped, menus in hand. “Feel free to lean on me anytime.”

She felt as if she were on a speeding train, with brief glimpses of the surrounding countryside whizzing by too quickly for her to connect the images into a coherent tableau.

Between the dim lighting and the small print, she couldn’t make heads or tails of the menu. In the end, she chose at random.

The Cabernet Sauvignon turned out to be excellent. The food, less so. She picked at the arugula salad laced with Balsamic vinaigrette.

“Ethan.”

“Yes?”

She watched his large hands buttering a slice of crusty baguette and promptly forgot what she wanted to say. He put down the knife and glanced at her.

She grabbed onto the first random topic that came to mind. “Tell me about your parents.”

“What would you like to know?”

“Anything. Where do they live?”

“Upstate New York. My father’s on staff at Albany Med. Mom has a private practice in Clifton Park, just north of the city.”

“Is that where you grew up?”

“Until about ten. Then I went to boarding school in Massachusetts and only came home during summer and school breaks.”

“Your parents sent you away when you were
ten
?” She stared at him. “Why would they do that?”

“Family tradition. My father was a Milton grad, and his father too.”

“
Nichevo sebe,
” she muttered. What kind of stupid family tradition was it to send a child away at the tender age of ten? If she ever had kids, she was going to keep them close to home as long as possible. Who knew when fate might step in and cruelly tear a family apart? No need to deliberately hasten the process.

Ethan raised a brow. “Excuse me?”

“Never mind.” She reached for her wine glass. “So are you close? With your parents?”

“I guess. Though I don’t see them that often.” He paused as the waiter removed their empty plates and refilled their glasses. “That’s the problem when we all lead busy lives.”

She shook her head. “
Kokaya yerunda
. You could always make time.”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “You’re right. I need to make more of an effort.”

What? Had Ethan Talbot just conceded a point? No one would ever believe it. Hell,
she
didn’t believe it.

He took a sip of water. “I was thinking of visiting them this week.”

That shook her out of her torpor. “That’s great. I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to see you.”

His gaze caught hers, and for a moment she felt off-balance, as if she were teetering on the edge of a deep abyss. A loud clatter from a nearby table broke the spell. She took a deep breath. “What do your parents think of your crusade?”

“My father was somewhat skeptical at first, but Mom eventually talked him around.”

“How’d she do that?”

He shrugged. “Just because they took the traditional route and went into medicine doesn’t mean they think it’s right for everyone. Unlike some people—” he paused and offered her a half-smile “—they actually agree that success can be achieved through many different paths.”

Before she could think of a good comeback, their entrees arrived. She buried her nose in the wine while Ethan cut into his grilled steak. After a few minutes, he seemed to notice that she wasn’t eating. He set down his knife and reached across the table.

“Hey.” His fingers traced a light pattern across the back of her wrist. “You might want to go easy on that.”

“Why?” She blinked, bringing him back in focus. “It’s good. And it helps.”

“With what?”

She leaned forward. “I’ll let you in on a little secret,” she whispered.

“What’s that?”

“I was nervous about tonight.”

“Really?”

She nodded, emboldened by the interest in his eyes. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been out on a date. This
is
a date, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” he said. “It’s a date. And you have no reason to be nervous. I’m harmless.”

A bubble of laughter escaped. “Oh, no. That’s not what I heard.”

“What did you hear?”

“That you’re a very busy, naughty boy.” She nodded for emphasis. “And you like to play. A
play
boy.”

His deep chuckle raised gooseflesh along her arms. “I hate to tell you this, Anna, but whatever you may have heard was undoubtedly a gross exaggeration.”

“Oh. That’s too bad,” she sighed. “I was really looking forward to playing. Dressed up for it and everything.”

“I noticed.” His slow survey felt like a caress. By the time his eyes met hers again, the heat was unmistakable.

She licked her lips. “I went shopping.”

“Did you?”

“The salesperson was very helpful.” She pivoted on the seat and extended her leg from beneath the table, toes pointed, nearly tripping a waiter who was hurrying by. “She convinced me I needed five-inch heels.”

Ethan swallowed and reached for his ice water. “They do make you look taller.”

She smiled and tucked her feet out of sight. “I bought condoms, too. In case you forgot to bring them.”

His glass hit the table, spilling water everywhere. He sprang up, blotting the mess with his napkin. Anna stared at the wet spot on the front of his slacks.
Oh, my.

He noticed her gaze and promptly sat back down, leaving the rest of the cleanup to their waiter.

How they managed to get through the remainder of the meal, she didn’t know. By the time she scrawled her signature on the receipt and accepted Ethan’s hand, the room was spinning.

“My hotel’s across the street,” she said.

He muttered something she didn’t catch. His arm wrapped around her back, hand settling on her hip. Despite the abrupt drop in temperature when they exited the restaurant, Anna felt warm. Ethan’s body was like a furnace beside her, radiating heat through every point of contact.

She snuggled against him, sighing when his lips brushed her temple.

“Which way?”

She blinked. The lobby looked vaguely familiar. What was the question?

“Come on, Anna.” His breath tickled her ear. “Don’t fall asleep on me yet.”

They stopped at the front desk. A brief exchange of words and money, and they were moving again.

“Ethan…”

“Yes?”

“I don’t feel too well.”

His hand tightened on her hip. “Hang on just a few more minutes, okay? We’re almost there.”

She swallowed against the rising tide of nausea.

Not now. Please God, not now.

Another pause. Then: “Anna?”

If she opened her mouth, she was going to vomit.

“Sweetheart, I need the key.”

Her arm felt like it belonged to someone else. She watched it rise, the satin purse still miraculously clutched in her hand.

“Got it,” he said.

And then he was propelling her across the threshold. She stumbled, would have done a face-plant straight into the plush pile carpeting if he hadn’t caught her beneath the knees and swung her up in his arms. Seconds later, she felt the comforter against her bare shoulders. Heard the click of the bedside lamp.

This wasn’t how she imagined they’d end up in bed.

The mattress sagged, and her eyes flew open. Ethan sat near the edge, her foot in his lap, his fingers working the strap off her ankle.

He swore beneath his breath.

Oh, God.
This was really happening. She was going to be sick.

What was she thinking? She should have stopped at the second drink. All she’d wanted was something to calm her nerves. Make her feel more confident. Sexy. As if she could compete with all the supermodels and actresses who’d come before her.

He was working on the other shoe now. His hand brushed her calf, lifting, repositioning.

“Can I get you anything?” he said. “Water? Aspirin?”

“No.” Her tongue felt too thick for her mouth. Each word was an effort. “Thank you.”

He sat for a moment without moving. What was he waiting for?
Get on with it
, she wanted to say. But the words stuck in her throat, and she couldn’t even muster a sound of protest when he rose from the bed.

Now what? The seconds ticked by. She focused on the banked flames in his eyes. Everything else receded into the background.

He bent slowly, bracing one hand on the headboard, using the other to lightly trace her brow, cheek, jaw. “Anna.”

She parted her lips. “Yes.”

And then they were kissing, and somehow she found the strength to reach up and thread her fingers through his hair, as if that alone would keep him here, because she could sense the tension in his muscles, could feel the battle raging between the desire to push forward and the need to pull back.

He groaned.

The mattress dipped again and she felt something—his knee?—nudge her side. His fingers tangled with hers, coaxing her hands into complete surrender, palms up, on the pillow on either side of her head.

His mouth gentled, eased back. “Goodnight, Anna.”

What? He was leaving? No! He couldn’t leave. They were just getting started.

The light clicked off. Cool air bathed her flushed skin. There was a rustling sound. A muffled curse. The soft snick of the door opening and closing.

And then silence.

She could hear the pounding of her heart, the whoosh of each breath.

He’d be back. Any minute now. The hard-on she saw when he’d spilled his drink had surged back to life when he stripped off her fuck-me heels. She pictured herself reaching for the zipper, sliding it down, freeing him from the confines of his dress pants. His hand would wrap around hers, guiding her up and down his turgid length, showing her how he liked to be stroked. And then his other hand would find her thigh and slide ever so slowly higher, pushing the hem of her dress up, inch by agonizing inch…

She fell asleep, still waiting for his return.