Chapter 2

Becka

“Are you really wearing jeans to the lecture tonight?” Lisa stood in my bedroom door as I finished fixing my hair and touched up my makeup.

“Of course,” I said. “What else would I wear?”

“A dress? A skirt? Something that isn’t jeans or, God help me, yoga pants? You’re going to be meeting the CEO of a major corporation tonight. This is basically a job interview.”

I stopped and looked at her. She wasn’t wrong. I looked toward my closet.

“I don’t think I have a dress,” I said. “For real.”

“You can borrow one of mine. Come on, come pick something out.”
Lisa and I were hardly the same size, but we made something work. A burgundy cotton jersey dress with tank top sleeves that came in at the waist, then flowed out at the bottom. I felt incredibly awkward, but the look of satisfaction on Lisa’s face suggested I had hit the mark with the dress I picked out.

“You look fabulous. Very professional. Now I’m willing to let you out of the house.”

“What would I do without you?” I asked, grinning at her as I put my phone in my purse.

“Die an old maid?”

“That’s still totally possible, just so you know. I haven’t had a date in almost a year.”

Practically pushing me out the door, Lisa said, “Perfect, I’ll add that next on the list. Now get to that lecture and get yourself an internship!”

***

When I arrived at the science building on campus, the lecture hall was about half full. I found Dr. Evans and waved at her. She smiled and gestured for me to take a seat in the fifth row, which was near where she was sitting. I made my way down and looked for Dr. Weeks. I was glad that I had arrived relatively early, as I knew the lecture hall would be packed by the time he came out to speak. I busied myself on my phone and tried to ignore the chatter of the undergrads.

Then, I saw him. He stood near the podium along with Dr. Evans. They were talking and she was showing him how to work the projector. From the back -- how I saw him first, he was tall and fit. His hair was dark brown and it was short on the bottom but a little longer on the top. He was wearing a suit without the jacket, which I noticed was sitting on one of the chairs in the front row.

He turned to face us and I saw he wore a slim burgundy tie that looked as though it would match the dress I was wearing. I tried to keep the butterflies from floating out of my stomach because, quite simply, he was breathtakingly gorgeous. I wanted to text Lisa but I didn’t have reception in the hall.

I wasn’t the only one who noticed Dr. Weeks’ good looks. A group of girls behind me began to giggle and crack jokes. They were being loud and I felt myself blushing, wanting to hide so that I wasn’t associated with them in any way. Dr. Evans looked in our direction and frowned, which stopped the chatter pretty quickly. I don’t think Dr. Weeks even noticed; he never looked up at us.

It was nearly seven o’clock when Dr. Evans walked to the podium. People quieted down as she patiently waited for the room to focus.
“Good evening, everyone. Thank you to those of you who are guests, for taking time out of your evenings to join us, and, to my students, thank you for showing up to class!” She smiled and the audience tittered.

“I’m very pleased and honored tonight to present our guest instructor for the week, a man whose work is well known to all of you if you eat anything that comes from a grocery store. Please be a respectful audience. Ladies and gentlemen, I present, Dr. Oliver Weeks!”

The audience applauded politely as Dr. Weeks took Dr. Evans’ place at the podium. He introduced himself, then immediately began to talk about his agenda for the week. He would give some background on his company, then, tomorrow night, he would start getting deeper into the science.

“That little tease is to make sure you come back for night two,” he joked. He looked up from his notes, then, and it seemed he looked right at me. He was smiling and his teeth were white and perfect.

His eyes were sharp, piercing, though I couldn’t tell what color they were. Maybe it was my imagination, but I thought his smile faltered a bit when he saw me. But, that couldn’t be; he didn’t know me from anyone else in the room.

His lecture was fascinating. He gave the entire history of Neuotova up to the present day, and he went over the current research as well as how the company had developed itself into the top food science corporation and research facility in the United States—and probably, within the next five years, he said, in the world.

The lecture ended and everyone applauded. Dr. Weeks said he would stick around for questions if anyone had them. I knew that was my opportunity to speak to him, especially since, at 10pm, most of the undergrads were bailing out of the lecture hall like the place was on fire, either to go study or drink or both. There were fewer than a dozen people waiting to speak to Dr. Weeks. I knew I should be one of them.

But, I didn’t know how I would be able to speak to him. He was so incredibly good looking, I felt myself getting tongue-tied even still sitting in my chair. Get your shit together, Becka, seriously. He’s a potential boss for you. The fact that he’s gorgeous is meaningless; he’s probably married.

Though a quick glance at his left hand confirmed that no, he wasn’t. Or he wasn’t the ring-wearing type. I felt myself blushing and I knew I needed to make a decision soon; the place was emptying out, and if I didn’t move, I’d be the only person still sitting in a room of standing, moving people.

I got up and walked quickly to the exit, not saying goodbye to Dr. Evans or introducing myself to Dr. Weeks.

When I got home, Lisa was waiting practically at the door to find out how my night had gone.

“Did you meet him? Did you talk to him? What did he say?” The questions came pouring out of her.

“No, no, and nothing,” I said, grabbing a glass from the cabinet and pouring a glass of red wine for myself. “Do you want one?” I nodded at my glass.

“Um, sounds like I need one. You didn’t say anything to him? Why not?”

“Lisa, this man, he’s like a GQ model. I mean, you should have seen him. Perfect dark brown hair, eyes, the square jaw, broad, muscular shoulders, the whole nine. I couldn’t speak to him; I was too busy acting like a teenager at a rock concert.”

“You wasted a perfect dress because he’s hot?” Lisa shook her head. “Sometimes I can’t believe we’re friends.”

“What was I supposed to do, go up to him blushing and stuttering and try to impress him by tripping all over my words? No thank you.” I took a long drink of my wine and closed my eyes. I knew I had missed a big opportunity.

“You kill me sometimes, you know that? Okay, so, what’s the plan for tomorrow night? Now that you’ve seen him, you’re ready for him, was he packing, by the way?”

“Lisa!”

“What? Was he? He sounds perfect, I figured you probably eventually worked your way down to his package.”

“He was wearing dress pants. Perfectly tailored dress pants.”

“Bummer,” Lisa smirked, sipping her wine. “Is he single?”

“I doubt it. I can’t imagine he would be.”

“Did he wear a ring?”

No ring.”

“Hm,” Lisa frowned. “Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean much these days. You googled him, right?”

“Not during his lecture, no,” I said dryly.

“What the hell, what are you waiting for?”

“The end of the interrogation, officer.” I tilted my head at Lisa and she punched me in the shoulder as she stood up.

“I’m getting my laptop and we’re going to figure out Mr. Mysterious and everything he’s about.”

I sighed as I heard her scrambling around her room to unearth her laptop. With any luck at all, he would be married and that would end Lisa’s interest. But, a voice inside my head told me that him being married was not the information I was hoping to find…

“Okay,” Lisa said, walking back to the kitchen with her laptop open and resting on her forearm. She was typing one-handed as she walked. “Oliver Weeks.” She pressed a few keys and set the laptop on the table.
I leaned in as a picture of him popped up on the right side of the screen. “That’s him,” I said.

Lisa whistled. “Holy smokes, yeah, he’s hot. Damn.” She looked at me. “And you didn’t talk to him when you were given a specific invitation to introduce yourself? Have I truly taught you nothing?”

I sighed. “Click there. It’s a news article from last week.” We clicked on at least fifty websites with information on Oliver Weeks. Some were features on him, others were about Neuotova, and others were rags speculating about the exact same question we were wondering about: was he married.

In all of the pictures we saw with women in them, the woman was always identified only as “Weeks’ date,” and no woman was pictured twice. We learned he was forty, had lived in the city since he’d dropped out of college, and had been born and spent his childhood on the West Coast.

Lisa and I finished the bottle of wine and I called it a night, promising her that I would go out tomorrow and buy a dress before the next lecture, and that I would definitely introduce myself tomorrow night.

I went to bed and tried to sleep, but I couldn’t get Dr. Weeks out of my mind. When I did finally drift off, I dreamed about him. I kept waking up and looking at the clock to see that only an hour or two had gone by. You’re losing your mind, I thought. Get a grip.

By the time class rolled around the next night, though, I was feeling better, more confident. I’d bought a dress similar to the dress I’d borrowed from Lisa. and I did my hair and makeup carefully.

Suddenly the idea of wearing jeans to the lecture the night before seemed absolutely ludicrous. Tonight, I was preparing for an actual job interview. I had a really good feeling about Dr. Weeks, and not just because he was hot. He had an energy about him, an alpha male sort of thing. I knew that he recognized talent and intelligence and, if he wanted to take me on as an intern, that would be a huge boon for my future in research.

I arrived on campus early once again, but, this time, the lecture hall was emptier than it had been the night before. I saw Dr. Evans and, after a few minutes, Dr. Weeks walked in the side door with his briefcase in his hand. I waited for him to set up his materials, and then I made my way to the front of the room.

“Dr. Weeks,” I said, trying to control the shakiness in my voice. Breathe, I told myself. “Hi, my name is Becka Jasper. I’m a graduate student with Dr. Evans.” I reached out my hand to shake his, which he had already automatically extended.

“Becka, of course,” he said warmly. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“I really enjoyed your lecture last night. It was fascinating.”

“Thank you,” he said, smiling. I reminded myself to take another deep breath at the sight of his straight, perfect teeth.

“I was wondering if I could take you out for a cup of coffee before the lecture tomorrow night. I’m a researcher and I’d love to hear more of your thoughts about the success of the company and where you think the future is going in food chemistry research.”

Dr. Weeks smiled. “I think I could swing that, as long as we can throw in a sandwich, and it’s my treat. You’re a student and I’m a CEO; it would be indecent for me to ask you to pay.”

I smiled. “That sounds just fine, Dr. Weeks, thank you.”

“Call me Oliver,” he said, and I felt my knees tremble.

“Oliver.”

“Here’s my card,” he said, taking a business card from his breast pocket. “My personal cell is on there. Text me tomorrow and let me know where to meet you. Should we say 5:30?”

“Yes, Sir, I mean, Oliver, yes,” I was blushing again, furiously, and it was time to bail. “Thank you, I’m looking forward to it.” I reached out to shake his hand again. He shook it and held on as he said,

“I’m looking forward to it as well, Becka.” He looked into my eyes with his intense gaze and I felt myself weakening. It wasn’t just his good looks; it was the energy moving between us when we touched. Even just shaking hands, I felt a warmth shoot through me straight to parts of my body I didn’t typically like to think about while I was in class.

“Okay, well, I better go sit,” I said.

“Enjoy the lecture,” he said. “I’ll be asking for a critique tomorrow.”

He smiled and, as he did, the skin in the corners of his eyes crinkled gently.

I laughed and found my way to my seat. I hoped he was kidding about asking for a critique on the lecture, because, when I got home, I could barely remember a word he’d said.

Oliver

I had been right, Becka had been the gorgeous woman with the black hair I noticed last night. How could I not notice; she stood out like a piece of gold among hunks of rusted tin. I had planned to seek her out tonight after my lecture, but she beat me to it, finding me before the lecture even began.

Once again, she was dressed beautifully; I liked what she was wearing tonight even more than what she had on last night. She looked more natural in it, somehow.
She invited me out to coffee and I accepted, of course. I was surprised at how forward she was; typically, women are a little tongue-tied around me; it’s why I tend to avoid dating. But, Becka had already proven herself to be different.

I had trouble keeping my mind on my lecture that night; every time I looked out at the audience, my eyes seemed drawn to her. She had her eyes on me, seemingly fascinated by everything I was saying. I smiled at her and she smiled back, but I only did that once, because, as soon as she smiled back at me, I lost my place in my presentation.

I didn’t get the chance to talk to her the next day; more of Dr. Evans’ students had questions than the night before, and, by the time I was able to see through the waiting crowd, Becka had disappeared. I waited the rest of the night and the next morning for her text. I had three business meetings with international clients and I kept one eye on my computer and the other eye on my phone. I had nearly given up when a number I didn’t recognize pinged a text.

Hi, it’s Becka. Let’s meet at Franks on Fifth for coffee?

The relief at seeing her words on my screen surprised me. I thought I actually felt my muscles relax. That can’t be, I thought. It’s a text. From a woman. That’s not an unusual thing in your world. Still, it took me a moment to figure out exactly how to respond. After running through a few responses in my head, I decided to go simple. Easy. Direct.

Perfect, see you then. I clicked send. That out of the way, I was able to concentrate on my work once again.

The day flew by and, by the time I had finished my last meeting for the day with a senator from Minnesota who had some connections at the University of Minnesota, I had just enough time to freshen up in the restroom before I went to find Franks on Fifth.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror and nodded. Not bad. A little gray around the temples, but I’d been working out regularly since high school and had managed to keep the trademark CEO paunch at bay.

I waved goodbye to Megan as I left the office, ignoring the knowing smile on her face. I drove myself to the coffee shop, my GPS guiding the way. Normally my driver takes me, but, since I was teaching at the college this week, I had given him the evenings off.

When I pulled up to the coffee shop, I saw Becka sitting at a table outside, and immediately changed my mind about her wearing dresses. Tonight, she wore jeans and a tank top, and they looked like a second skin on her. She had curves in all the right places, curves the dresses hadn’t shown, and she held herself differently, more confident and comfortable. I honked the horn lightly and she looked up. I waved, she smiled and waved back.

I parked the car and took my suit coat off, laying it on the passenger seat to keep it from wrinkling. I turned my phone off—something I never did—and got out of the car.

Becka stood as I approached, and I found myself smiling, and confused. I was meeting a graduate student in a coffee shop. I had asked my assistant how to text a date. I turned my phone off. It was as though I was a different person whenever anything with Becka was involved.

I would have to be careful here; I had no intention of getting romantically involved with anyone. It was too distracting, and I had too much on my hands already running the company the world knew about and running the one only a handful of people knew about. A woman didn’t fit anywhere in that picture.

“Hi, Dr. Weeks, I mean, Oliver. Thanks again for meeting me.”

“Hi Becka, this looks like a great place!” And it did. It was clearly a college hangout, with students everywhere -- studying, relaxing, on dates. The décor was eclectic and the lights were bright enough to allow students to study, but dim enough to cover the dingy walls behind the artwork and book shelves.

“It’s a favorite among the grad students; we do a lot of study groups here. They don’t have alcohol, which kind of sucks, but, sometimes, that’s actually better.” She grinned at me and I smiled back.

We ordered the same thing—coffee, black—and returned to the outside table Becka had chosen.

“So,” I began. “Dr. Evans actually mentioned you to me before you introduced yourself.” She began to blush immediately. “Which was a good thing. Tell me about your thesis and what areas you’re looking to focus your research on in the future.”

She began to talk and I watched her lips, full and red, as she spoke. Her eyes were passionate, they were a brown so dark her pupils were nearly invisible, and she used her hands when she talked. Her fingers were long and slender, and she wore a Fitbit on one wrist. The orange tank top she wore looked beautiful against her skin, and it cradled her breasts, exposing just the tops and her cleavage as she leaned over to take a sip of coffee.

For a moment, I imagined reaching across the table and, with my index finger and thumb, gently plucking one of the straps from her shoulder, letting that side of the tank top fall to expose her beautiful breast.

“That’s fascinating,” I said, having heard only a portion of what she’d said. I heard enough to know that she was whip smart, articulate, and elegant in how she held herself when she talked about her passions.

We talked until it was nearly time to go to the lecture. I couldn’t believe how fast the time had flown by.

“I can’t believe how fast the time went,” I said as we recycled our cups.
“I know, I feel like we just barely got started talking,” Becka said. I thought for a moment, her intense gaze on me.

“Tell you what, what are you doing after the lecture tonight?” I asked.

“I’d just planned on going home,” she said.

“Well, you were right, not serving alcohol is a major flaw in an otherwise very fine establishment. What would you say about continuing our conversation over a glass of wine somewhere after the lecture?”

She smiled widely. “I would love that.” Her mouth was gorgeous, and her smile was like decorating a diamond with rubies. I took a breath, reminded myself to be cool.

“Great,” I said, as smoothly as possible. “Wait for me after and we can go together. Did you drive here or do you need a ride?”

“I’m good, I rode my bike,” she said, pointing to a bike with a basket on the back chained to the side of the building.

“Then I’ll see you at the lecture.”

“See you then, Oliver,” she said, rolling my name through her lips and sending an involuntary shiver through me. I knew I wouldn’t be able to look at her even once during the lecture tonight. Last night I just lost my place; who knows what would happen tonight.