Chapter 5

There were a lot of things Brooke wanted to say to Owen.

Inviting him to join her on her night out wasn’t one of them.

And yet it had been the first thing to fly out of her mouth.

“I’d like that,” he said, smiling. “A lot. Thank you.”

She couldn’t help but smile at the look of relief on his face. Together they turned and began walking away from the diner, and Owen asked her about the artist they were going to see.

“I have to admit, I didn’t do a lot of research on him. He’s new to me, and really, I just wanted to go because I always enjoy going to galleries and experiencing new artists. It’s kind of fun to see what other people are creating and then meet them and find out what inspires them.”

“I can understand that. I would imagine you have a lot more opportunities to do that than someone in my field does. Most of the people I interact with have studied the same things I have and believe the same things I do, but it’s always refreshing when I meet someone who has an opposing view or some new insight into what is going on in space and why.”

They walked several blocks while making observations about the things they were seeing—like a running commentary on people-watching—and Brooke was enjoying it. She liked this side of Owen—when he was relaxed and out of his work environment. She had to wonder if he was even aware of how differently he behaved when no one was directly watching him.

“I don’t understand the whole sandals-and-black-socks look,” he was saying. Brooke followed the direction of his gaze and saw an older gentleman dressed in tan shorts, a red T-shirt, black socks, and sandals. “We broke my dad of that habit. I wonder if that guy has anyone willing to do the same for him.”

And then she laughed. Out loud. To the point that Owen stopped and looked at her. “Are you all right?” he asked.

Brooke stopped walking and tried to contain her laughter. “I’m sorry, but…that was just funny!”

He looked confused. “What was?”

Shaking her head, she laughed a bit more. “The way you commented on that. For a second, all I could picture was you walking up to that man and explaining why his outfit didn’t work!”

Owen started to chuckle. “I suppose that would be funny—and probably a little embarrassing for him to have a complete stranger walk up to him and critique his clothing choices.”

“Definitely.” Brooke was about to start walking again when she looked around and frowned.

“What’s the matter?”

“When I left the house earlier, I parked by Navy Pier and just started walking from there. I ended up south of there, and the gallery is north of there. I suspect we’re in for a long walk.” She paused and looked around again. “Should we stop and get my car?”

Owen seemed to consider their options and then shrugged. “The weather tonight is pleasant, and I don’t mind the walk if you don’t.”

She couldn’t help the smile that crossed her face. Secretly, she had been hoping he’d want to walk. There was something to be said for exploring the city on foot, and the thought of doing it with Owen—even though she was still pissed at him—just felt right.

“I don’t mind the walk either,” she said and felt herself blush. “I have a sweater for later when it’s cooler out.”

“Well, then…shall we?” he asked, smiling at her.

And off they went through the crowds of people.

* * *

“That was…interesting.”

“I never thought I’d see those two mediums used together.”

“I may have to stab my own eyes out to make sure I never see it again,” Brooke said and then shuddered. They had just left the art gallery, and she waited until they were at the corner before looking at Owen. “I am so sorry.”

He looked taken aback by her apology. “Why?”

“That was horrible! Everything in there was offensive and tasteless and just…wrong! I can’t believe an art professor would recommend that to anyone!”

“Maybe he didn’t know exactly what kind of art was being displayed.”

Brooke shook her head. “He had to know. He raved about the whole thing, like he was familiar with the kind of work this guy did!”

“Maybe he’s into that kind of thing. There were a lot of people there who were praising pretty much everything they saw.”

Even though she knew Owen was right, she was still horrified. All of the pictures featured nudes in cages—and then there was wire caging coming out of one picture to give it a 3-D effect. Splashes of color looked as if they were thrown onto the canvas, and all in all, the exhibit had been fairly horrific to her. Brooke didn’t consider herself a prude, but these images were definitely not something she would have chosen to see.

Ever.

And now she was mortified because she had invited Owen along. To his credit, he didn’t seem the least bit fazed by the whole thing. It was possible he was trying to be polite and didn’t want to offend her in case she found the work interesting. But after the first five minutes of being there, Brooke had wanted to escape. Somehow, however, Owen had drawn her into conversation as they walked around the gallery and made several observations that had her wondering if he really didn’t see what was so…bizarre about the entire thing.

And that had been eye-opening for her. They stayed much longer than she’d imagined they would, especially after seeing the art, but they had talked the entire time, and after a while, she didn’t even notice their surroundings. She simply enjoyed the conversation, which turned to the architecture of the building rather than the show.

“So that was an art showing,” Owen said conversationally.

She nodded. “I really wish it had been a better experience.”

“Is this the sort of thing you want to do? Have your paintings displayed in one particular gallery?”

“I think so. That was one of the reasons I went to talk to Dr. Kennedy. I really wanted his input on ways to get my name out there to some of the local galleries. I was hoping he’d give me some insight into how to get started.”

Without commenting, Owen simply nodded.

“I don’t know about you,” she began, “but the thought of walking back to the pier is just a little exhausting. Would you mind if we grabbed a cab?”

“Not at all.” Walking to the curb, he quickly hailed one, and once they were inside, he instructed the driver where to take them.

“Thank you,” Brooke said, resting her head back on the seat. “I know I could have made the walk, but I’m just worn out.”

“It was a lot of walking,” he agreed. “I’ll have the driver drop you at your car and take me back to my hotel.”

“Oh.”

Turning his head toward her, he looked at her until she met his gaze. “What’s wrong?”

She shrugged. It was silly to be disappointed. Looking at the clock on the dashboard, she knew it was late—almost midnight—but she wasn’t ready for the night to end.

“I just thought I’d drive you back there, and maybe we could have a drink or something before we called it a night.”

He studied her for a moment, and she was afraid she had been too forward and he was going to turn her down.

“I’d like that,” he said, surprising her yet again.

“Good,” she said, smiling.

The ride to her car took only a few minutes, and Owen paid the driver and thanked him as they climbed out. Silently they walked to her car, and for the first time that night, she truly felt nervous. There wasn’t anything she could put her finger on, but for some reason Brooke knew it was a big deal that they were out together tonight and they were both unwilling to let the night come to an end.

Or perhaps she was seeing only what she wanted to see.

They stopped next to her car, and she turned to him. “I don’t think I know what hotel you’re staying at.”

“It would probably be easier for me to drive. That is…if you don’t mind.”

Brooke willingly handed him the keys, and they were on the move minutes later. Traffic was a bit lighter than it had been earlier in the evening but still heavier than she would have expected for this time of night. Everything was lit up, and the sidewalks were still crowded, and she loved the energy of it all. They turned off the main road, and Owen pulled into an underground garage and parked.

“I was so busy people-watching I didn’t even notice where we are.” There was a possibility that was the wrong thing to admit to, but…

“That’s okay,” he said, taking the keys out and handing them to her. Neither made a move to get out of the car though.

She watched him for a moment—noticed how he was staring at the steering wheel and how he seemed to be thinking about something, but she had no idea what. Turning in her seat, she faced him. “Owen—”

“I’d like to kiss you,” he blurted out.

Her eyes went wide, and her heart beat madly in her chest. “You…you would?”

Owen looked at her, his dark eyes so full of emotion. He shook his head. “I’m sure there was a more eloquent way to say that, but…I’m not very eloquent,” he added quietly.

Reaching out, Brooke took one of his hands in hers—relishing the warmth she found there—and marveled at how large it was. And there was strength there. He didn’t have the hands of a man who sat behind a desk pushing papers around, and the skin-on-skin contact was far more arousing than she thought possible. “You’re more eloquent than you think you are,” she said softly.

The look he gave her said he didn’t quite believe her. “I had a wonderful time with you tonight, Brooke, and I know we’re going to go inside and have a drink, and we’ll talk some more and…well…the longer we talk and the later it gets, it’s going to make me want to kiss you even more. It’s wrong for me to want to, but—”

“Why is it wrong?” she interrupted.

And there were those eyes that had her more than ready to crawl across the seat and into his lap. There was a vulnerability in his eyes that was almost her undoing.

“I hurt you. I know you didn’t say anything about it, but I know Howard probably talked to you and told you about Red Rock.” He looked away and shook his head. “It was wrong of me to do it like that. I should have talked to you myself. I’m sorry.”

“Owen, I’m not going to lie to you. I was hurt, and yes, I was pretty angry with you earlier. I know we haven’t known each other very long, but I thought we were at least becoming friends. I hated hearing about your decision from my uncle, but…I kind of understand why you did it that way. I’m sure it wasn’t an easy decision for you to make.”

“None of this is easy,” he murmured and then looked up at her again. “I’m not good at this sort of thing—playing it cool and pretending I’m not interested in you when in fact I am. So…I’d completely understand if you didn’t want to stay and have that drink or talk like we’d planned. You’re probably sitting there trying to figure out a nice way to tell me to get out of the car.”

Brooke was about to correct him, but Owen kept talking.

“I thought about hiring you, but I couldn’t. Not because I don’t want you on the trip, but because I knew I couldn’t handle working with you every day and having you close by while I’m attracted to you. And knowing you were only there because you wanted to paint and that you weren’t interested in me.”

Now she had to speak. Before he could get another word out, she squeezed his hand and got his attention. “But you’re wrong.”

He didn’t seem to understand what she was talking about.

“I do want to go on this trip to paint—I’m not going to deny that—but…Owen, I’m attracted to you too. I’ve enjoyed getting to know you, and the more time we spend together, the more I want to spend with you. I was afraid maybe you didn’t want me on the trip because I wasn’t smart enough or—”

She never got to finish.

Owen closed the distance between them and cupped her face in his hands as his lips claimed hers.

* * *

Good Lord, she tasted sweeter than he had imagined.

Her lips were so soft, and when she sighed and leaned into him, Owen knew he had made the right decision. He skimmed her cheeks with the backs of his fingers and marveled at how she felt. Brooke’s hand came up and rested on his chest before moving to his shoulders and around his neck.

They were pressed together chest to chest, and Owen cursed the fact that he had made his move in a parked car, like he was fifteen and on his first date.

Not that he’d dated at fifteen, but he knew boys who had.

Focus!

The woman in his arms was like a fantasy, a dream, and just knowing she was as attracted to him as he was to her was a very potent aphrodisiac. It wouldn’t take much for him to sit here all night and continue to kiss and touch her, but it wasn’t the right place for them.

And probably not the right time.

Slowly he broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers, and they both caught their breath.

“Wow,” she sighed.

No woman had ever reacted that way to his kisses, and before he knew it, he tilted his head and captured her lips again. Brooke kissed him back with equal fervor, and he shifted his arms the best he could, so she was almost cradled in them, and then marveled at how perfectly she fit there.

Images flashed in his head of taking her up to his hotel room. To his bed. The images were so vivid that he had to wonder if the two of them hadn’t moved and were in fact there already. A car door slamming nearby told him they hadn’t, and he reluctantly ended the kiss.

Again.

“I have a feeling if we don’t stop now, we’re going to start giving the people walking by quite a show,” he said, placing one last kiss on her lips. They slowly broke apart and straightened in their seats. He was going to apologize but quickly dismissed the idea. He wasn’t sorry. Kissing her had been the most impulsive thing he’d ever done, and he didn’t regret it for one minute. He couldn’t.

“I don’t know about you,” Brooke said, “but I can definitely use a little something to drink.” She picked up her purse and opened the door. Looking over her shoulder at him, she smiled. “You ready?”

That was a loaded question. He was more than ready—for whatever she wanted. Rather than comment, he nodded, climbed out of the car, and walked around to meet her. Without conscious thought, he took her hand, and together they walked into the hotel. Owen paused in the lobby.

“The bar is closed, but we can grab something to drink from the store and sit if you’d like.” He realized he should have remembered this before coming back to the hotel. He chose to stay here because it was clean and the rooms had kitchenettes, but it was far from being an upscale hotel. They could always go up to his room—it did have a comfortable living area—but after the kisses they’d just shared, he wasn’t sure if that was a smart idea. He didn’t want Brooke to feel like he was pressuring her in any way.

“That sounds fine,” she said softly, her hand still in his.

Owen knew he wasn’t going to be the one to break the contact. He was enjoying it. Probably more than he should. After purchasing a couple bottles of water, a bag of pretzels, and a candy bar—which Brooke had bashfully asked for—they walked back out to the lobby and sat down on one of the sofas. They sat in awkward silence as other hotel guests came and went—loudly—and Owen turned to Brooke and threw out a suggestion.

“It’s completely okay if you say no to this, but…would you like to come upstairs with me? To my room?”

Her eyes went wide, and he felt an instant of panic.

“Just to talk—like we said,” he added quickly. “It’s very loud down here, and I just thought…but maybe it’s late and you want to head home. It’s fine. Really. Maybe we can see each other tomorrow. I was planning on touring some of the museums this weekend if you’re interested. The weather is supposed to be fair, and we could walk around the city. And—”

“Owen?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re rambling,” she said with a small smile. “And in answer to your question…well, one of them, I would like to go upstairs with you. I agree. It’s rather noisy, and every time someone comes in or goes out, the cool air comes in, and it’s chilly.”

He instantly stood and held out his hand. “You’re sure it’s not too late?”

Brooke shook her head. “I don’t have a curfew, and I don’t think it’s too late. I’m a night owl. If I were home, or at my uncle’s, I would be watching a movie or reading a book or playing Scrabble on my tablet.”

They rode the elevator while talking about books—she told him about the latest Nora Roberts book she had just finished, and he told her the plot of the James Patterson book he had just downloaded.

“Uncle Howard’s reading that one too,” she told him.

And the conversation didn’t stop there. They settled into his room with little more than a brief acknowledgment from Brooke that it was a nice space. Sitting on the sofa, they compared their interests not only in books but in movies, food, and hobbies. Owen already knew of her love of painting, but he found it fascinating when she shared her “mini-obsession”—her words—with word games and computer solitaire. He had to admit he occasionally played solitaire, but normally when he was on his computer or tablet, it was for work and research purposes.

But what he was finding most interesting about Brooke was the way she spoke so passionately about the things she did—whether it was something as big and profound as her art or as minute as playing a game of Scrabble. She found joy in it all, and it made him wish he were more like her. Science was his life, and it was fulfilling, but Owen couldn’t say for certain if it gave him joy.

“You’re frowning,” Brooke said, interrupting his thoughts. “What are you thinking about?”

“I was sitting here thinking about you,” he said, and when her expression fell, he realized how what he said could have been interpreted. “I’m sorry! That…that didn’t come out right.” He chuckled. “What I meant was I was sitting here listening to you, and you’re so…passionate about all of the things you do, and I realized that while I’m passionate about my work and the things I do in my spare time, it’s not a joyful passion.” He paused. “I’m not even sure I’d know what that felt like.”

She studied him for a long moment—long enough that he started to squirm in his seat. “What makes you laugh?”

“Excuse me?”

She laughed softly. “Tell me something that makes you laugh—it can be a television show, a comedian, someone you know…just anything you know that makes you laugh.”

It seemed like a simple question, but Owen was surprised when he couldn’t recall anything right away. Panic started to set in because he realized how odd it was going to sound. After all, who had to think about what they found amusing?

Brooke put her hand on his thigh. “I am a sucker for romantic comedies. I don’t like anything that goes for cheap gags or slapstick, but if I sit down to watch a movie, that’s my go-to because I know it will make me laugh and feel good by the end of the movie.”

Her logic made sense. “This shouldn’t be so hard, right? I’m overthinking it.”

She leaned back on the sofa, and Owen instantly missed the feel of her hand on him. “Maybe just a little,” she teased. “How about something that makes you happy?”

“My family,” he said without hesitation. His answer must have pleased her because she was smiling again. “I guess they make me laugh too—sometimes at myself, but that’s a given. When I go home to visit, there’s always a lot of laughing, and sometimes I don’t quite get the joke, but I laugh with them because…it feels good. And in the past couple of years, it seems like there’s a lot more laughter in our family—probably because we’ve grown so much.”

He didn’t look over at her because he was remembering his visit home the previous month. Hugh and Aubrey’s son, Connor, was a very active two-year-old who loved to climb, and Owen remembered watching Hugh running after him most of the time.

That had made him laugh.

Then there was sweet baby Lily—Aidan and Zoe’s daughter. They had her dressed in a frilly outfit that almost seemed bigger than she was, and as she toddled around trying to learn how to walk, she would eventually fall in a big pouf of fabric. She was incredibly sweet and adorable, and she’d look at him with a big, wet grin and clap her hands whenever she fell.

That had made him laugh.

Soon Quinn and Anna’s baby would be here, and the thought of his ultra-macho brother trying to handle a tiny baby had him laughing right then.

“Aha!” Brooke said with a chuckle. “I knew you’d think of something. Out with it! What’s making you laugh?”

He told her about Quinn’s personality and how he and his wife were expecting a baby. “It seemed natural for Hugh and Aidan to become fathers—they’re both nurturing, and they did a lot to help raise the rest of us. But Quinn?” He couldn’t help but chuckle again. “Let’s just say the entire family is going to get a kick out of watching him.”

“He may surprise you all. This could be something to teach him a little humility.”

That made Owen laugh even more. “I have to admit he has softened a bit since he and Anna finally got together. It’s been a fascinating transformation. But I still think this baby is going to challenge him more than he thinks.”

“Babies definitely can do that. It’s hard to believe such a tiny being can wreak so much havoc on the adults around him.” She laughed. “Or her.”

Owen was about to comment on that when Brooke moved closer and put her head on his shoulder. He cleared his throat quietly and rested his head on hers. “Any babies in your family?”

She shook her head. “Nope. Although I think my parents would love that. They just recently started talking about it. Some of their friends have become grandparents in the past few years, and it’s made them start campaigning for their own grandchildren.” She started to reach for her snack, but Owen got it for her, handing her the water and the chocolate bar. “Thank you.”

As they sat in silence, Owen wondered about her family. She didn’t talk about them much, but then he figured maybe he just spoke about his more than the average person because he had such a large family. He looked down and saw a piece of chocolate being offered to him. Brooke’s delicate hand was mere inches from his mouth. Was he supposed to take it from her hand with his or simply…bite it?

He opted for biting, and as he took the sweet chocolate into his mouth, his lips grazed her fingers, and he heard her gasp softly beside him.

But not in a bad way.

His heart rate kicked up, and as he slowly finished chewing, he reached up, took her hand, and brought her fingers close to his lips. He swallowed and then kissed her fingertips, licking the spot where there was still a bit of chocolate, and heard Brooke moan.

Sexiest sound ever.

As if of one mind, they maneuvered until Brooke was in his arms, and then he was kissing her again. His lips claimed hers, and this time it was so much better, he thought. Without having the car console between them, he could feel her—every sweet curve, every delicate inch of her was curled against him—and it was a heady sensation. Owen had never considered himself to be big or strong like his brothers, but with Brooke in his arms, he did. He wrapped his arms around her as she looped hers around his neck. If he died right now, he’d die satisfied.

It was humbling to think that this beautiful and amazing woman wanted him. Him. Nerdy Owen Shaughnessy. And then all rational thought left him as her hands raked into his hair, gently scratching his scalp, and she moved to be almost fully in his lap.

There was no way for him to hide the effect she was having on him. He didn’t want to. And if it shocked her or bothered her, she didn’t let on.

Their kisses intensified, became more and more urgent. His tongue teased and tangled with hers as he pulled her closer—and yet he couldn’t seem to get her close enough. He needed to breathe—to get air into his lungs—but the thought of not kissing her was almost painful. When at last he couldn’t take it, his lips left hers and trailed across her cheek, down the slender column of her throat. Owen’s hand tangled in her long, silky hair as she arched back to give him better access to all the places he was trying to reach.

She whispered his name.

She begged for him to touch her.

And he knew there was a bed in the next room. It would take less than a minute to get them there.

But he couldn’t move. Not now. Not yet. Instead, his hands began to move, skimming along her spine and around to her rib cage. He gently squeezed her waist and marveled at her curves. He stayed in that spot until he could control himself while his mouth nipped at the sensitive spot where her neck and shoulder met. He felt her shiver, heard her breath hiss, and he became almost obsessed with seeing and feeling all of her responses.

To him.

He’d never held such a responsive woman in his arms. Never felt as overwhelming a need for someone as he felt right now. It was hot… It was heady… It was erotic. It was…

Brooke moaned, took his hand in hers, and placed it on her breast, and they both seemed to gasp with a mixture of pleasure and pain. Unable to help himself, he lifted his head and looked at her—took in her flushed skin, her parted lips and closed eyes—and she made a very desirable picture. He almost wished he had the ability to paint because this…this woman in his arms…was the most exquisite piece of art he’d ever seen.

As if sensing his stare, Brooke opened her eyes and looked at him. Her eyes were bright, glazed, and she reached a hand around his nape and pulled him in for another kiss—deeper, hotter, and wetter than the last. She kissed him as if she needed him to breathe, needed him like she didn’t need anything—or anyone—else. And it was enough of a confirmation that he knew what he had to do. Owen licked her lips one last time before raising his head and whispering her name on a sigh.

She looked at him as she caught her breath and he caressed her cheek.

“It’s very late,” he murmured.

She nodded.

“I don’t want you to leave.”

She licked her lips, and he had to stop himself before he groaned.

“I don’t want to leave.”

She was killing him.

He swallowed hard. “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but—”

“You always say what you mean, Owen.” Her voice was a mere whisper.

“I want you to stay. I want to take you into the bedroom and take you to bed and make love to you.”

“I want that too.”

This time he did groan. And then he shook his head. “But we can’t.”

Her eyes widened a little. “Can’t?”

Relaxing a little, he continued to caress her cheek. “I don’t think we should. Not tonight.”

Now she frowned slightly. “But you want me to stay.” It wasn’t a question.

“I do.” He paused. “Even if we just curl up together and watch TV or talk. I just want to hold you. Maybe that’s selfish of me, but…it’s how I feel.”

Slowly, Brooke pushed herself up from his lap and looked at him as if she was considering her options. For a minute, Owen wasn’t sure what he was expecting her to say. Was she upset that he didn’t want them to make love? Would she opt to leave and go home?

“Do I get a say in this?” she asked.

And all he could do was nod.

Without a word, she stood, but she didn’t move away immediately, and again it left him to wonder at what it was that she wanted.

And then she held out her hand to him. “Is there a TV in the bedroom?”

Again, all he could do was nod. But he placed his hand in hers and stood.

And let her lead him to the other room.

* * *

“Maybe this was a mistake.”

“How can you say that? I think it’s great.”

“It’s just so…crowded.”

“What were you expecting? It’s a Saturday.”

They walked hand in hand through the Museum of Science and Industry, and while Brooke was having a great time, Owen clearly wasn’t so sure. Pulling him into a small alcove, she faced him. “There is nothing wrong with it being crowded,” she reminded him. “It’s because this is an amazing place.”

“There are a lot of kids. I didn’t think of this as a kids’ place.”

“Owen, kids love science.”

“Not when I was a kid.”

“Yes, even when you were a kid, they loved it. They just didn’t have the same level of appreciation that you did.”

At first she thought he was going to argue with her, and she was pleasantly relieved when he didn’t. “I guess I never looked at it that way.”

“Stick with me, and I’ll help you see that not everything is negative.”

“There are still a lot of people here. I couldn’t even get near that coal mine exhibit.”

And she knew he was disappointed about that one because he’d mentioned it several times. “How about we go and catch the movie on the national parks?” she asked, hoping to distract him. “It’s on an OMNIMAX screen, which is supposed to be pretty impressive. What do you say?”

It took him a minute, but he agreed, and they bought tickets. Waiting in line, Owen looked around, and she saw him frown again.

“We have tickets. We’re going to get in.”

“I know,” he said a little distractedly. “I’m glad Howard opted to stay home.”

They had woken up fairly early, having fallen asleep in each other’s arms while watching Silver Linings Playbook. Brooke didn’t believe for one minute it was a movie Owen would normally watch, but he had. And he’d held her. And it had been the most perfect night ever. And even though it should have been awkward this morning, it wasn’t. She woke up to slow, sleepy kisses, and if given the chance, she would have opted for them to stay in bed like that all day.

The man certainly knew how to kiss.

And touch.

And…everything.

Unfortunately, she had been more than a little self-conscious about morning breath and how dreadful she looked after sleeping in her clothes all night. Owen had assured her she was beautiful, but she didn’t quite believe him. So she had jumped up and offered to make coffee while Owen quickly showered and changed. He readily agreed, and once he was ready, they drove to her uncle’s so she could do the same.

The look on her uncle’s face when they’d walked in the door together had been priceless.

Shock. Then awkwardness. And then finally…pleasure.

Pretty much exactly how Brooke had felt and—she was fairly certain—Owen too.

She had excused herself so she could shower and change, and Owen hadn’t mentioned what he and Howard had talked about in her absence. All she knew was that when she came back downstairs thirty minutes later, they were discussing the museum and Owen had issued the invitation.

Which Uncle Howard graciously declined.

And now as they waited in line, Brooke had to wonder why Owen was grateful for her uncle’s absence. “How come?” she finally asked.

“I think he—like myself—would have enjoyed being able to see some of these exhibits at our leisure. This is the kind of place that is probably more enjoyable on a weekday when there’s hardly anyone around.”

Brooke leaned in close and whispered in his ear, “Then we’ll just have to try again one day this week so you can take your time and see and touch and explore all you want.”

She was only partially talking about the museum.

Owen must have understood her meaning because she saw him duck his head and blush a little.

She liked when he did that. He might not agree with her reasoning, but in her mind, seeing him blush and seeing that vulnerability made him seem stronger than any man she’d ever known. Someday she might even tell him that.

Stepping back, she smiled sweetly. “Won’t that be fun?”

Swallowing hard, he nodded and squeezed her hand. He was saved from having to say anything by the movement of the line—they were being let into the theater. Curious to see where he’d lead them to sit, she kept her opinions and requests to herself. She figured him to be the kind of guy who would find a spot up close or at least in the center of the theater for optimum viewing.

She was intrigued when he led her to the top row and all the way into the corner. All sorts of thoughts went through her mind from “maybe this is the best viewing spot” and “it’s probably quieter with less likely of a chance for other viewers to interrupt us with their chatter” to something a whole lot sexier when he turned and looked at her. There was heat and promise in those dark eyes that had her tingling.

Together they sat, hands still linked, and leaned in close to each other. Trying to keep them occupied until the lights went down, she pulled out the brochure they had been given with their tickets and began to read it out loud.

“For a hundred years, beautiful places like Yellowstone, Yosemite, the Everglades, the Redwoods, and Arches have been living monuments to the nation’s vast and untamed wilderness,” she began. “I don’t think I’ve ever visited a national park. Have you?”

He nodded. “Yellowstone and Yosemite. Both were part of programs with the planetariums—similar to the one at Red Rock. It’s always exciting to be in such a vast setting that is magnificent on its own and combine it with an astrological event.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to question why it was that those events were different for him than the one at Red Rock, but she pretty much knew the answer. He was leading this one. At the others he was a bystander who could choose to participate when he wanted, and he could blend into the crowd when he didn’t. It made her sad because the man she was getting to know was more dynamic and personable and clever and witty than he realized. But instead, she opened the brochure and continued her commentary.

“Celebrate the majesty of these treasured landscapes. Join world-class mountaineers and adventure photographers and artist as they bike, hike, and climb their way across America’s most pristine parks, revealing a tapestry of natural wonders that will inspire the adventurer in us all.” Refolding the brochure, she felt sad, and it must have shown on her face because Owen commented on it.

“I have a feeling I’m going to watch this movie and it’s going to make me wish we could get on a plane tonight and just…go. I’m going to get inspired by the colors and the scenery, and it will be like sensory overload because it’s on this big, giant screen, and I’m mad at myself for not bringing my sketch pad with me.”

“Well, to be fair, you normally wouldn’t need one for a day at a museum.”

“Maybe,” she murmured and leaned back in her seat.

The theater lights began to dim, and Brooke forced herself to push aside all thoughts of paints and brushes and colors and all of the longing inside of her to be a part of what was starting to show up on the screen.

But she was fooling herself. There was no way to ignore the colors or for her not to imagine how she would make them look on canvas. In the first two minutes, she could feel her fingers twitching with the need to pick up a brush. As if sensing it, Owen lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her. And when she turned her head he was right there. Waiting.

And all thoughts of painting, colors, and national parks vanished as Owen closed the distance between them and kissed her. Consumed her. Damn near devoured her.

Yes, the man had some skills.

She was thankful for the dark theater, the secluded corner, and the loud movie, so she was free to let out a moan of pleasure as his large hands cupped her face.

And that was another thing—his hands. She was getting addicted to them as well. For such large hands, they touched her as if she were delicate, and really, all Brooke was beginning to think about was how they would feel if they stopped touching her so softly, so delicately, and touched her the way she was aching for.

So not the place for that thought, but…there it was.

Owen abruptly ended the kiss, rested his forehead against hers, and gave her a lopsided grin. “Sorry,” he said breathlessly, turning his head so he could murmur next to her ear. “I couldn’t help myself.”

She knew the feeling.

“That’s okay,” she replied softly and shivered when his tongue traced the shell of her ear. “I like it when you do that.”

He nipped at her earlobe and then wrapped an arm around her and turned them so they could focus on the movie again. And for the next thirty minutes, Brooke was beyond content to savor the feel of the man beside her and take in nature at its finest.

* * *

The temperature had dropped a little by the time they left the museum. The mild weather of the day before was long gone. They huddled close together as they stood on the sidewalk and contemplated what they were going to do next.

“Are you hungry?” Owen asked, pulling her closer. “I know we had a late breakfast, but…”

“We did, but I’m not in a hurry to grab something.”

He nodded. They had driven Brooke’s car to the museum, and so they turned toward the parking garage and began walking. Owen was a little lost in his own thoughts. The movie had been extremely informative and enjoyable, and when it touched upon the Grand Canyon and Red Rock and specifically their brilliance for observing the night sky, he had felt like it was some kind of sign.

He wanted to smack himself in the back of the head. He didn’t believe in signs. But as much as he kept saying that he didn’t want to take on this project, there were far too many…signs, for lack of a better word, that were telling him to go. Why? He had no idea. All of the trips he had gone on in the past as an observer had been extremely enjoyable—almost life-changing in their beauty—and Owen knew part of the wonder was because of where and how he was seeing the event.

So why was he fighting this so much?

Because everyone’s watching you…waiting for you to make a mistake and look foolish.

But Brooke can help you with that…

He looked down at her as they walked. Her expression was relaxed, her cheeks slightly rosy from the cool air, and just looking at her gave him a sense of peace. Having her with him on the trip would definitely help, but it was also going to be a distraction. A big one. In fact, he knew it would be hard to even remember to work or talk to his students when all he’d be able to think about was getting Brooke alone and touching her and kissing her and just being with her.

He stopped dead in his tracks.

Never before had anything distracted him from his work.

Ever.

“Are you okay?” Brooke asked, looking up at him with concern.

Nodding, he didn’t say anything and started walking again. She didn’t question him, and when they reached her car, she handed Owen the keys and walked to the passenger side. He liked how she let him drive. Of course, it was partially because he knew his way around the city better than she did, but still…

“Where should we go?” she asked softly, as if knowing his mind was still elsewhere.

Shrugging, he suggested, “You pick. The museum was all my idea. Where would you like to go?”

“Oh…that could be dangerous,” she said playfully. “Look how disastrous my suggestion was last night. I don’t think I can handle another awkward art exhibit.”

That had him laughing. Yeah, they’d probably end up talking about all of the nude pictures they’d seen at some point, but for now he’d like to forget it too. “There’s a simple solution to that—don’t pick anything art related.”

“Easy for you to say. That’s like me asking you to pick something that isn’t science related. It’s just what we are naturally programmed to veer toward.”

That was true. “Okay, so we’re not ready to get something to eat, and we don’t want to do anything science or art related.”

“And we’ve already seen a movie.”

“I don’t think that counts. It wasn’t a full-length movie.”

Beside him, Brooke shrugged. “Still, it was moving pictures on a giant screen in a theater. Therefore, it was a movie.”

Her logic was adorable, and he couldn’t help but laugh again. “All we’re doing is limiting our options exponentially.” He pulled out of the parking lot and turned right—not because he had a place in mind, but because it was easier turning that way. “We could do something spontaneous. Something neither of us would ever typically do.”

“That would require us thinking about it and planning it, and then it’s not spontaneous.” She paused. “We could walk around, but it’s too cold. We could go shopping, but I’m not big on that.”

“How is that possible? I thought it was genetic. All women love shopping.”

She shook her head. “Not me. My mother killed my love of it after so many years on the pageant circuit. Every bit of free time was spent shopping for gowns and dresses and makeup.” She shuddered. “I know she meant well, but it left me with an aversion to going to malls or getting glammed up for anything.”

He glanced at her like she was crazy. She was wearing makeup, she was dressed in trendy clothes, and she looked amazing. In his eyes, she was glammed up. How much more…everything could she have been for these pageants? Which is what he asked her.

Sighing, she looked out the window as they drove around aimlessly. “My hair was never allowed to be straight—it always had to be curled. Which is why I wear it straight or clipped up now. So much damage was done to it from all the products and heat, and I’m done with that. Makeup could have been put on with a spackle knife—so heavy and garish. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy wearing makeup; it’s just minimal now.”

“I had no idea. But then again I never paid much attention to beauty pageants.”

“There was so much pressure to be perfect all the time—to have my hair and makeup done perfectly, and my clothes always had to be designer and whatever was trendy. But the worst was the pressure to stay thin. I like food. I enjoy eating, and for so many years I had to exist on salads and water and go to the gym to stay fit.” She gave a mirthless laugh. “Every minute of every day was scheduled for me based on what competition was coming up. I know it sounds crazy because some people had real struggles, but to me, it was brutal.”

The pain in her voice spoke volumes, and he hated that she had felt such anguish. He had no idea such a thing existed—not the pageants but the pressure. He took her hand in his and squeezed it and did his best to move on from that particular topic.

“If you could do anything you want right now, what would it be?” He paused before adding, “The first thing that comes to mind.”

“Painting in a national park,” she said quickly and then started to laugh. Turning her head, she looked at him. “I guess that movie got to me more than I wanted it to. All I could think about in the beginning was how jealous I was that I wasn’t in one of those parks with a canvas and some paint.”

An idea began to form in his mind, but it was very impulsive and totally out of character for him. It would require being so far out of his comfort zone that it threatened to paralyze him. But when he glanced over at Brooke and saw the serene smile on her face as she continued to chatter about the ideas she had gotten from watching the movie, Owen knew he couldn’t just push his idea aside.

If nothing else, he had to at least mention it to her. Of course, there was a chance she’d think he was crazy and wouldn’t agree to it anyway, but she could love it and want to go for it. Then what would he do?

“…I think of the layers in the rock, and it’s just so amazing to see! Some of those lines are so incredibly straight that it shouldn’t be possible, but it’s the different colors that catch my eye. I would love to get close enough to touch them and smell them.” She stopped and chuckled. “I know it sounds weird, but sometimes a scent will inspire me. That’s why I love painting outdoors—the fresh air is never the same twice.” Looking up at him, she added, “You think I’m weird, don’t you?”

Owen shook his head. He would never think that about her. About anyone. He knew how hurtful it was when people labeled you as such. “No, I don’t. I find what you’re saying to be fascinating. I don’t tend to see things the way you do—I’m a little more black and white. I would look at the layers in the rock and the colors from a scientific standpoint. I would reason why the colors are the way they are but without seeing them. You really see them.”

Her smile broadened. “I do. And I know not everyone looks at things the same way, and that’s what makes life interesting. We all don’t have to see the same things the same way. It makes for great discussions and conversations. Can you imagine if everyone looked at, say, the Grand Canyon and went, ‘Well…that’s a big, brown canyon’ and moved on?”

The simplistic example had him laughing. “That would definitely be—”

“Boring,” she finished for him. “It would be boring. No two people should see it the same way. We all have different emotions, and I know if I ever went to see the Grand Canyon in person—and stood on the canyon platform—I’d probably be at a loss for words because I would be filled with awe!”

“How do you know that for sure? Maybe you’ll be the one to go and say it’s a big, brown canyon. You might be disappointed,” he teased.

Brooke rolled her eyes. “A person would have to be an emotionless robot to have that kind of reaction,” she countered. “Its size alone is enough to make you react with awe. So even if you didn’t notice the colors, the pure scope of it would invoke some kind of reaction.”

He hadn’t thought of it that way.

Interesting.

“So you want to go and touch, paint, and smell the Grand Canyon?”

“Hell yes!” she laughed. “Why? You want to hop a plane and do that tonight?”

Without conscious thought, they had ended up back at Owen’s hotel. Owen pulled into the underground garage and parked before turning toward Brooke. She was still chuckling, and it appeared she hadn’t noticed where they were yet.

“Yes,” he said firmly. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Let’s get on a plane to Nevada tonight.”