The Theory of Attraction Read online

I wondered if he was objecting to the “normal” part or the “nice” part.

  “Okay, how about that you’re a brilliant rocket scientist who is pretty reserved socially but pleasant when he has to be?”

  “I hate this shit.” Ivan was already jingling his car keys, though, and we headed for the car with the question of his objective still hanging. As I was getting buckled in, inspiration struck.

  “You’re already pretending to be my date. So focus on that part. Are you going to be a boyfriend? Or are you going to be some guy who’s hoping to get…um, get me to go out a second time?”

  The Friday evening traffic occupied his attention for a few minutes before he finally answered. “Were you going to say ‘laid’ and then changed your mind?”

  Crap, so much for subtle. “Yep.”

  “That one. I’ll be that one.”

  “All righty.” Seriously? Potentially good, but also potentially disastrous. “So what’s your plan going to be for that?”

  He smiled without looking at me. He kept his eyes on the road when he drove, checking his mirrors frequently at such regular intervals that I’d always wondered if he had some OCD issues. “Remember how I said there are large chunks of my time you have no idea about?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Let’s just say I can do that role. Of a guy who plans to get you into bed. However, I will almost certainly not do it the way you’re used to.”

  I had absolutely no doubt of that. “Is this going to be creepy?”

  We pulled up to a red light, and I got the full force of the evil grin. “Keep an open mind and follow my lead. And remember, if you let me be in control of it, my comfort level will be higher. But I will also make it worth your while.”

  I had a sudden sense that he meant that in far more ways than I had previously considered. And an equally sudden impulse to tell him to turn the car around, take me back to his place, and tell me more about how he got girls into bed. But I’d promised Athena, and this outing was meant to benefit Ivan, after all.

  “So you’re saying you’ve been going out with girls all this time and nobody knew about it?” I’d lived next door to the guy for two years, and thought I knew as much about him as a stalker. This would have been a big detail to miss.

  “No, and I’m not really going to say much more about it right now. If you want me to play that role, I can do that. But I do it a certain way, and usually only with people who are…another certain way. They’re looking for a particular type.”

  Tragically gorgeous uber-nerd scientists with zero social skills?

  “Astrophysicists?”

  He chuckled. “People who prefer to be in control of their variables.”

  I could tell there was something he was leaving out, some critical element. But we were almost at the theater, and I didn’t have time to get into the details with him. I decided to roll with it. “Okay. You’re in control. Consider me your variable.”

  He seemed amused by the whole thing. This was good, as it took the edge off his tension and made him smile more than he usually did. Not the tight, polite smile he used around strangers, but the sly, private little smirk that had driven me crazy since the first time I saw it.

  Things started off simply enough. Waiting in line, getting the tickets and soft drinks, locating Athena and friends who were already in the theater. We’d arrived in time for previews, so there wasn’t really much time for interaction before the movie anyway. Athena and I had agreed to do it this way, movie first and then dinner, so there would be a built-in topic of conversation during the meal. We thought it might help Ivan to have at least one subject at hand, although I was leery of how he might react if he had strong feelings about the movie.

  It was a good date flick, a horror film with an improbable serial-killer plot designed to maximize the potential for shock visuals that tended to make a girl squeak and grab her date for safety. And it fulfilled that potential quite well, as it turned out. Not that I paid much attention to the movie. As soon as the lights dimmed, Ivan had leaned in toward me, just close enough to encroach on my seat a little. The armrests were the flip-down kind, so nothing prevented his thigh from pressing against mine from the knee halfway to the hip. The first five minutes or so of the movie were completely lost on me as I processed this. By “processed,” I mean, of course, tried to slow my breathing and control the rampant hormones that made me aware of body parts I usually tried not to think about in public.

  On my left Athena was ignoring me, because she was pretty into her date and they were giggling about the movie. So I chanced a little gambit, nudging my knee against Ivan’s under the guise of getting more comfortable. I ended up with my right knee cocked and resting ever so lightly along the top of his thigh. Like it had arrived there by accident.

  He saw that bid and raised it, sliding his hand over my bent knee and holding it there. No accident. I stared straight ahead, and if I’d had laser vision I would’ve burned a hole straight through the center of the screen. I had no idea what was being projected there. Ivan’s hand was only twelve inches of thigh away from my girly parts, and whether or not it was all a façade designed to fool the crowd, the whole arrangement was doing very strange things to my rational thinking process.

  Jeez, I really needed to get laid.

  “Careful,” Ivan whispered in my ear. I sucked in a breath and held it as the brush of his lips raised every tiny hair on my body. “You probably don’t want to play that kind of game with me.”

  I might be needy, but I wasn’t desperate enough to fool myself into thinking there was any point in pursuing a guy who just wasn’t into me. Been there, done that, no interest whatsoever in reliving the experience.

  I started to slide my leg away, trying to keep up the casual appearance—darn, these seats weren’t all that comfy, what a shame—but Ivan’s long fingers wrapped around my knee, keeping me from moving. Startled, I looked his way, but couldn’t read his face in the flickering light of the dimly lit scene in front of us.

  “Watch the movie,” he whispered. And when I turned back to the screen, puzzled and embarrassed, his lips brushed my ear again with predictable results. “You gave me control, remember?”

  I nodded, flicking a glance Athena’s way to see if she had noticed anything amiss. Her head was on the guy’s shoulder now. I wished I could remember his name, since it seemed likely to come up later. Jacob? Jason? Something with a J, anyway.

  “Watch the movie. I may give you a pop quiz later to see if you were paying attention.” Something in his tone and the touch of his lips against the shell of my ear turned my entire right side to liquid heat, and I shivered before I could stop myself. His fingers tightened against my leg in a slow, deliberate squeeze that made me want to whimper.

  What the hell was his deal? He really was going to have to come clean about his big secret at some point.

  A nudge at my left elbow shocked me from my musings, and I turned that way to see Athena glaring daggers first at my face, and then at Ivan’s hand on my leg. Then back at my face, her expression one big silent “What the fuck?”

  I whispered, “Tell you later,” and tried to settle back down to watch the movie just in case Ivan was serious about the whole pop quiz thing. But between his hand on my leg and the occasional whispered remarks in my ear, I was pretty much a libidinous basket case by the time the film was over, and damned if I had any remote idea what the thing had been about. Some attractive young people had been lured to an old house, and all but one had died horribly after being mind-fucked in every possibly way. Beyond that I was clueless.

  If there was to be a pop quiz, I knew I would fail it miserably. And I found myself wondering whether that might not have been the goal.

  The heat outside the theater assailed me, moist and grasping, the second I walked out. Like walking into a steam room, particularly since I was wearing a three-quarter-length sleeve and had traded my shorts for denim capri pants. The movie theater we’d gone to was notoriously chilly, so I’d
dressed for that. The shirt was on loan from Athena, so it was lower-cut by far than my usual, but the extra cooling from all the bare skin on my chest could only accomplish so much against the oppressive heat of the summer night. I hoped the restaurant wasn’t too warm, or I’d be miserable.

  We gathered outside before dispersing to cars, and more lengthy introductions were made, with Athena staring pointedly at me all the while. And then, fortunately, Ivan turned his phone ringer back on and noticed a missed voicemail from work. He apologized and stepped away to listen to it, and this occupied him while we engaged in the restaurant negotiations that typically so enraged him.

  We’d decided on sushi by the time he rejoined the group, so we split up into couples to drive to the restaurant.

  “I have to stop by the lab after we eat,” Ivan said. Not apologetically, I noticed. Nor did he say that it wouldn’t take long, or any of the other usual things one says. “Did I hear correctly? Sushi?”

  “Yep.”

  He smiled. “You could always try ‘Yes, Professor.’”

  “Huh?”

  “Nothing.” He opened the car door and gestured me in. “Don’t forget to buckle up.”

  When we’d been driving for a few minutes, he cleared his throat. “So what do you normally order at a sushi bar?”

  “Sashimi. Sometimes a roll. It depends, why?”

  “No allergies I should be aware of? Shellfish, anything like that? Any very strong dislikes?”

  “Nope.”

  He bit his lower lip and shook his head. “No, Professor.”

  “Seriously?”

  “No, it’s all right. I’ll humor you for now. As long as you let me order for both of us.”

  “All right. Control. I get it.”

  “No, I really don’t think you do. But that’s okay. This is still helpful. It’s helping me to see how to translate this behavior from one setting to another. With new expectations.”

  At the next red light, he gave me a head-to-toe appraisal then seemed to be searching his memory for the right phrase. “You look very nice tonight.”

  “Thanks. So do you. You remembered to comb your hair and everything.” And he’d come straight from work, so he was wearing decent jeans and a nice enough navy blue dress shirt. “Usually you’d tell your date that before the movie, though. So are you ever going to explain it to me, so that I do get it? The control issue, I mean.”

  We were pulling into the parking lot next to the restaurant and were lucky enough to catch a space somebody was just vacating. Ivan parked, jerked the emergency brake more forcefully than was perhaps necessary and shook his head. Not a negation, a shake like he wasn’t sure how to respond. “That would probably be a bad idea, Cami.”

  “Camilla,” I said automatically, then bit my tongue. If he wasn’t allowed to make me call him Professor, I shouldn’t be demanding he call me Camilla. “Sorry.”

  “You’re not doing a very consistent job of letting me be in control, Camilla.”

  And the look he gave me then made me understand how the gazelle feels when it realizes that the rustling it hears isn’t a stray breeze in the tall grass but a lion about to pounce. Only difference was, I wouldn’t have tried to run. I wasn’t sure my legs would even work.

  “I’ll try harder, Professor.”

  Ivan looked fascinated by me. It was heady, that feeling of being the center of his attention. He started to lift a hand, as though he might touch my cheek, but he pulled it away at the last minute.

  “See that you do.”

  * * *

  Dinner was a study in the surreal.

  Ivan was polite and didn’t talk much. So that right there was a little bizarre. He said his prepared things about work and remembered to follow up with, “And you?” He remained noncommittal about the movie, and while he may not have charmed anybody he didn’t piss anybody off. But mostly he focused on me. Ordering for me, as he’d said he would. Nigiri, and we shared a fried banana dessert that was actually much better than I’d expected. I let him be in control, because I was curious to see what he’d do.

  When he offered me the last bite of our dessert on his fork, Athena kicked me under the table. But by that point I was too enthralled to even think about responding to her. Or allowing her to pull me into the bathroom for a conversation, as she seemed bent on doing. I wallowed instead in the glow of Ivan’s regard, fake though it might be. I took the last bite of fried banana, wishing it meant more than it did.

  The trouble was, Ivan still hadn’t given any definitive sign that he was interested in something other than playing a role to practice his social skills. He’d even warned me off. Sort of. And he hadn’t batted an eye at the cleavage on display in the borrowed shirt. Or at my ass. Or even at my feet, though I’d gotten a real nail salon pedicure for once and was wearing extremely cute sandals.

  Of course, it was perverse in the first place that I wanted him looking at my boobs, ass or other body parts. Mostly I hated it when guys did that. Maybe it was just that Ivan never did it, so that was what I ended up adopting as the objective standard for whether or not he was interested. Because I knew I had nice enough assets in those areas, if not quite Athena-standard, and I wasn’t that cynical about using them to good advantage on occasion.

  But he wasn’t looking. And after we left the restaurant and the company of the others, he’d said very little else to me on the ride to his office. Aloof, that was Ivan. And damned if that didn’t make me all the more determined to get under his skin. Or at least into his pants.

  “So, was the call about some big breakthrough or anything?” I asked, kicking my heels idly against the leg of the table on which I’d perched to watch him work.

  “Kind of,” he said, to my surprise. He even smiled a little bit, though his eyes never left the image on the computer monitor in front of him. “We finished our planning and preliminary scale-model testing for the station-mounted parabolic reflector, and that means we can move on to designing the full-size prototype. Paulo wanted me to double-check an equation before he sends the grant reporting in.”

  “Wow. You mean you actually finished a project stage?” I knew enough about his field to know how rare an occurrence that was in the constantly evolving design process of all things space-related. “Closure?”

  “Closure,” Ivan confirmed. “At least of this phase.”

  “Well. Congratulations.”

  “Thank you.”

  He typed in a few more things, stared at a few more incomprehensible images on the screen, and then started closing it all down again, apparently satisfied with what he’d seen.

  “Is it always this cold in here? My office is so hot all the time.” Even in my cold-theater clothes, I felt a distinct chill in the darkened lab.

  “Yes. But just like in the movie theater, it would be comfortably warm if you were more appropriately dressed.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Your shirt doesn’t make sense,” he said, sounding annoyed. “It covers your elbows, but it leaves your forearms and most of your sternum completely bare. It must have extremely poor heat-retention properties.” He started toward the door and I followed, then had to wait as he went back to turn his desk lamp off. The room was still bathed in the eerie glow of dozens of LEDs, and the steady red glare of the exit sign.

  I took a few moments to process what he’d said about the shirt. I wasn’t even sure how to classify it. Nobody could possibly be that obtuse. Could they?

  “But it looks good,” I pointed out.

  Even in the faint light I could spot the tension in his face, the way his upper lip flexed as he geared up to his full problem-solving mode.

  “It’s impractical.”

  I shrugged, failing to stifle a tiny defeated sigh. “It’s extremely practical. It does exactly what it’s designed to do, Ivan. Which any normal human guy with normal human guy needs would know has absolutely nothing to do with keeping me warm.”

  Then I turned and half whispered as I reac
hed for the doorknob, “Any straight guy, at least.”

  Before I could open the door, a pair of hands slapped against the wall on either side of me, trapping me between two lean arms. My world constricted in a heartbeat to the cinderblock wall in front of me, cold and gray with layers of glossy institutional paint…and the body behind me, hot and firm and undeniably male.

  “Camilla,” he growled, “I want to make some things perfectly clear to you, and you are going to listen to me. Do you understand?”

  Unable to speak because my heart was threatening to pound its way out of my chest, I nodded. Then I whimpered as he leaned closer still and his breath tickled over the fine hairs behind my ear.

  “First thing. I am not stupid.”

  “I never said—”

  “Quiet! You started this, but I’m going to finish it. I am not stupid. I may not like people, I may have asked for help getting through this fundraiser, but that doesn’t make me an idiot about all human interaction. And I don’t appreciate being teased.”

  Miserable, excited, I held my tongue and tried to think about anything but the shivering, melting sensation that was beginning to course through my veins. The slight draft near the door could never account for the goose bumps prickling over me. And nothing but Ivan’s proximity could possibly explain the effervescent heat between my legs.

  “Second thing. I am not blind. If you flash your cleavage enough times, eventually I will not be able to avoid getting an eyeful. That shirt ups those odds considerably. So unless you really want to be ogled, I can’t imagine why you would go around wearing such a thing. It’s nothing like your usual style. You don’t need to wear something trashy to get noticed.”

  He noticed my usual style? It was news to me. Also news that he knew the difference between trashy and not, and knew I normally chose the latter. Not that this shirt was trashy, although I had to admit it skirted the line pretty closely.

  “And third,” Ivan continued, leaning in closer, “I want to stress that I am a completely normal human male in a lot of respects. And since I am most decidedly not gay,” he added, pressing his hips forward into my ass so I couldn’t possibly mistake his prominent hard-on, “you’re playing a pretty dangerous game. I can only take so much teasing, Camilla. Sooner or later, if you keep it up, I am going to assume you want me to follow through. That would come with some additional requirements you probably aren’t prepared for.”