Seduced by Stratton (The English Brothers Book 4) (6 page)

“Understand, I’m speaking empirically, but your behavior, physiologically speaking, signaled a . . . corporal interest in me. While we were talking about
Five Easy Pieces
, your eyes dilated, your cheeks flushed, you scanned my body at least thrice, and you leaned forward into my personal space to better hear my voice when I told you which Nicholson movie was my favorite.”

She left out the part about his junk twitching, because she didn’t want to embarrass him. She needn’t have worried, though. Stratton gasped in a small “Ah” sound and his eyes were wide and rapt, focused on her with fascination, no embarrassment in sight. “Please go on.”

She looked down, feeling her cheeks flush as she admitted in a whisper, “Your face was so close to my throat you tripped my amygdala.”

“In a bad way?”

She raised her eyes to his, shaking her head back and forth slowly. “No.”

“Fascinating. Please continue.”

Valeria flicked her eyes, a little desperately, to the bottle of crappy wine in front of her, wishing for a glass. He didn’t offer again. She cleared her throat meaningfully to indicate it was dry. He still didn’t offer.

“You didn’t
mean
to do any of these things, of course. You couldn’t help it, which makes the data conclusive on a biological level. Attraction is . . . established. Clinically. But, human beings are more than our natural impulses. We are able to control them when it’s right to do so. Point in fact, when I responded to those signals with an invitation to go to the movies, you were anxious to neutralize the conversation away from fraternization. That tells me that, while you might be attracted to me—and for males, attraction is a fierce pull—you must have a good reason for exercising self-control.”

“Amazing,” he exclaimed in a hushed, reverent tone. “It’s like you’re an expert.”

Valeria took a deep breath and sat back in her chair. “Dr. Campanile at your service. In another year or so.”

“
Dr.
Campanile?”

“Mmm. Didn’t we ever cover that at Mulligan’s? I’m earning my Ph.D. Courtship studies. Early-American concentration.”

“You don’t say.”

“I
do
say.” She reached for the file that had all the answers to Zia
Angelina’s problems, but also meant she wouldn’t be seeing Stratton English again anytime soon. The thought made her feel so melancholy, she knew she’d be stopping off on the way home for a pint of Ben and Jerry’s. Chunky Monkey, maybe . . . or, no. Cherry Garcia. The universal sad-girl flavor.

The silence stretched wide and awkward between them until she slid the file to the edge of the desk and folded it into the outside pocket of her bag. “Can I say something else?”

Stratton looked up at her, as though interrupted while evaluating something important in his head. He re-engaged with her by straightening his glasses and nodding.

“Two things, actually. One, whoever she is, I think she’s very lucky. Some men follow their impulses despite the whisperings of their conscience. They violate their inherent sense of right and wrong. They make a selfish choice, even though they know their actions will hurt someone they care for in the process. So, good for you . . . for not hitting on me.” She grinned at him in as friendly a manner as possible after sharing this, to reassure him that her next comment wasn’t meant to be predatory. “And two, if you ever want to go see vintage movies with a
friend
, well … I’d love the company.”

“What friend?” he asked.

“Me.”

“You? We’re not friends.”

“True.” She nodded. “But we could be. Remember, human beings are very good at controlling unwelcome impulses. You’ll stop being attracted to me now because your heart requires it. And I’ll stop being attracted to you because you’re not available.”

“Wait. You’re—“ His cheeks flushed red as he stared at her, but his dimples dented his cheeks in pleasure. “—attracted to me?”

She was fairly certain the entire female population of Philadelphia was attracted to him, but she sniffed out no artifice or self-stroking in his question, which she liked. A lot. Too much.

She frowned.

“Not anymore,” she said, then caught herself and gave him a half-smile to soften her words.

She stood, hefting her bag over her shoulder and tapping on the manila folder that poked out of the pocket. “I owe you for this, Stratton, and Italians are more comfortable when we’re allowed to pay our debts. So, if there’s ever anything you need from me, anything I can do for you, just shout.”

She held out her hand, staring into his ice blue eyes until he rose and shook it. Ignoring the sluices of pleasure that radiated from her hand to her heart, she regretfully let go of him and showed herself to the door.

The following night, Stratton paced back and forth in front of the Ritz Theater at 7:25, telling himself this was a terrible plan. The problem was, he didn’t have a better one, and he didn’t want to waste time while Amy was away. He needed a solid strategy and a coach or a female friend to assist him. Options thin, Valeria seemed his best bet.

Flexing his fingers in black leather gloves, he looked left, then right, to see if she was approaching from either direction.

I should have called or texted to be sure she was coming
, he thought grimly, wondering if her plans to see
The Shining
might have changed. She didn’t seem like the kind of girl who’d be okay missing the first five minutes of her favorite movie, so he reached into his pocket and checked his phone again.
Seven twenty-six
, he noted with a grimace.

The reason he hadn’t reconfirmed her invitation for tonight was he worried it would sound too date-ish, and regardless of her assurance that she wasn’t attracted to him anymore, he still felt like the ground between them was shaky—mostly because he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her since she’d walked out of his office yesterday evening. As he stared at his ceiling long into last night, he’d finally convinced himself that his incessant thoughts of Valeria were only necessitated by his desire for Amy. Valeria’s friendship and feedback were integral to his plans and eventual success. In short, he was only thinking about Valeria because he needed her help, not for any other reason. That soothing conclusion had allowed him to fall asleep.

“Stratton?” Valeria’s voice was surprised, almost disbelieving, as she approached him, and he grouched at the way his heart leapt as she drew closer.

Go ahead and leap
, he thought bitterly.
The faster we become friends with Valeria, the sooner we have a plan to save Amy from Étienne.

He didn’t know what she wore on top, but black tights peeked from the bottom of her coat, making him wonder if she was cavorting around in skimpy dance clothes again. Dragging his eyes up from her legs to her face, he saw her full lips were spread wide into a beaming, bemused smile.

“H-Hi,” he said, unable to keep himself from grinning back at her.

“What are you doing here? I mean . . . I know what you’re doing here.
The Shining
is playing, but I—I didn’t expect to see you.” She laughed nervously, adjusting her messenger bag. It looked heavy, and he reached for it without thinking, but when her eyes caught his in question, he jerked his hand away.

“Yeah. I was, um, actually hoping we could chat.”

“Oh,” she said, searching his eyes in the artificial pink neon light shining down on them. She bit her bottom lip as her eyes flicked to the ticket booth, which had a large art deco clock over the window. “But, um, the movie’s about to start, and I don’t want to miss the beginning.”

“Me neither,” he agreed.

“How about we catch the movie and then grab some coffee after? Okay?”

“Sure,” he said, following her to the ticket booth, located in the middle of the semi-circle overhang in front of the old theater. She leaned forward to ask for a ticket, but the attendant looked up at Stratton, who stood behind her.

“Two, please.”

“Oh, no!” said Valeria. “You don’t have to treat me. It’s not like this is a—”

“It’s fine,” he said, pulling twenty dollars out of his wallet. His arm brushed her shoulder as he placed the bill on the little metal counter, sliding it forward. “You can buy the popcorn.”

She chuckled softly. “Are we having popcorn?”

“How can we go to the movies without popcorn?”

“Okay. Done. You get seats. I’ll grab snacks.”

He watched her walk away, noting her light steps in black fuzzy boots. He pulled his bottom lip into his mouth, wondering, again, if she was only wearing tights and a filmy skirt under her parka, and then chastising himself for wondering.

“Ah-hem!”

He looked back at the ticket attendant who slid two tickets forward. He took them and followed Valeria inside, stepping behind her in the concession line and nudging her shoulder.

“It’s your favorite movie, and I made you late by surprising you.” He handed her a ticket, jerking his head toward the theater entrance. “You go get seats. I’ll get the snacks. You can buy me coffee later.”

Her face was tilted to look at his face, and when she parted her lips in a grin her tongue darted out to wet her lips. Stratton’s stomach flipped over, and damn it if her smile didn’t get a little bigger because she noticed, and she knew exactly what that physiological response meant.

“I’m not attracted to you,” he said quickly, putting his hand over his guilty stomach. “I’m just . . . hungry.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, stepping out of line and giving him a “whatever you say” look that made it clear she didn’t believe him. Her voice was flirty when she followed up with, “For what?”

He felt—
felt
—his eyes dilate and widen.

“P-Popcorn,” he stuttered. “
Only
popcorn.”

“Popcorn.” Her smile faded a good measure until it was gone entirely, and her lips were pressed lightly together. Finally she said, “I’m not attracted to you either.
At all
.”

“I know. You told me yesterday.”

“Great. That’s settled,” she said in a crisp, angry voice. “I guess I’ll get seats.”

Without another word, she turned on her heel and walked away.

***

Damn him, anyway
, she thought as she threw open the door to the theater, barely registering the ominous synthesizer notes that started her favorite movie. She looked up, watching as a camera panned over a lone island in a river before lighting on a car winding around a mountain road. Taking a deep breath, she huffed out her annoyance, finding two seats together toward the front of the half-full theater. If it had been more full, she would have purposely chosen a single seat so he could just sit by himself, and the thought made her lips quirk up in a little grin.

She didn’t get him.

What was he doing here? In a million years she hadn’t expected to see him tonight. He’d been amply clear yesterday he had no interest in her, and though he’d never actually answered the “Are you taken?” question to her satisfaction, she was sure there was some complication with tits and a vagina holding him back. Still, he’d raked his eyes over her body as she approached the theater, smiled at her so openly, and reached for her heavy book bag. All signs of interest. He’d also paid for her ticket and had the thoughtfulness to take care of the snacks so she didn’t have to miss the movie that she was
now
missing out of sheer annoyance. She exhaled on a small sound of irritation. Why did he have to ruin the kindness of the gesture by blurting out that he
wasn’t
attracted to her when he clearly
was
? Was she so unthinkable as a choice for him that he’d willingly insult her? Apparently.

She huffed again, sensing her line of reasoning was off-base. He’d never said or done anything to indicate he thought her beneath him. And he was fighting a pretty significant internal battle just being around her. Whether he liked it or not, Stratton English
was
attracted to her. He just wished he
wasn’t
, which made her wonder . . .

Why had he shown up? What was so important that he’d risk seeing her again when she posed such a significant complication for him? What was it he wanted to talk about?

The yellow VW bug in the movie continued around the sharp, jagged bend of a mountainside as Valeria sat down in the second seat of the row she’d chosen, leaving the aisle seat for Stratton and his long legs. She placed her bag on the empty seat beside her, piling her scarf and mittens on top, and reminding herself of something she’d learned as one of five sisters. Just because someone tries to drag you into their crap, you can refuse to budge. Just because someone else dumps their baggage on your doorstep, doesn’t mean it’s yours. Whatever was going on with Stratton had nothing to do with her, and it she wasn’t going to own it. She was here to see her favorite movie, and she wasn’t going to let his agenda ruin it for her.