Chapter 10

If she'd thought her co-op mates' teasing about her gallery show was bad, their reaction to Brice's statement was a whole new level of torture. When she'd arrived home that night after the most amazing date of her life, the house had been in an uproar. Apparently, word had broken in the gossip blogs long before any local newscast would recap the Afterschool Program's new playground.

"Oh. My. GOD!" Jessica, a chubby blond working on an MA in Comparative Lit, nearly squealed when she saw Janna heading towards the stairs. Janna was still in a fog of bliss, reliving the memory of Brice's kisses, while at the same time simmering with frustration. She had expected Brice to claim his prize immediately, and her body hummed with desire, wishing he hadn't left her so easily with the close of the limo's door.

Jessica's exclamation broke the fog long enough for her to turn her head towards the large common room. Three of the co-op's girls were on the couch, bent over the laptop that rested on Chelsea's lap. Jessica jumped up and ran pell-mell towards Janna, grabbing her arm in an iron grip and pulling her into the room. "He called you his girlfriend! Can you believe it?"

Not really, Janna thought, still in a daze. "What's going on?"

"You're all over the blogs. You and Brice Masterson. He's so hot!"

Chelsea let out a snort, and Shelby elbowed her in the ribs. "Congratulations, Janna," Shelby said, her southern twang soft, matching her soulful brown eyes, hidden behind square glasses. Shelby was in Communication Disorders, and Janna thought her well-suited to her chosen career path. Her voice was soothing, like a warm blanket, sure to relax the stutter of even the most speech-impaired person.

"Thanks," Janna replied in a near whisper. "I still can't believe he said that."
"Me neither," Chelsea piped up. She was very pretty, with a refined face and a subdued bob to her locks which were such a light red that the color bordered on pink. Her features were schooled into an impassive mask, but from the tone of her voice, it was obvious she was anything but indifferent.

"Shut up, Chelsea," Shelby said.

Jessica clicked her tongue and pulled Janna down onto the couch next to her. "She's just jealous."
"Whatever," Chelsea grumbled, making Shelby burst out laughing. The sound startled Norman, causing the black and white cat to leap from her lap and scurry out of the room.

"It's true. Brice Masterson is ten times hotter than her beau Quincy. Richer too, despite Quincy's smug superiority. He's a way better catch."

"I don't have to listen to this," Chelsea said, squirming out of her seat and slamming the lid down on the laptop hard enough for Janna to wonder if the screen had shattered. "Congrats, Janna," she nearly snarled. "Good luck keeping his attention focused on you. I give it a week, tops." With that, she stalked into the kitchen and out of sight.

Janna let out a huge exhale. It hurt to hear someone else give voice to your biggest fear. Although Jessica and Shelby did their best to make her forget the unkind comment, it lingered long into the night as she stared at the ceiling and waited for sleep to descend.

The day played out in her mind. The date was...there were no words to describe it. Every moment had been tailored to her interests. And the best part: Brice had done it all himself. With no help from his assistant. That had impressed her most of all. All that work and dedication, solely to ensure that she had a tremendous time.

It was sweet, and in the limo, on the way home, she'd realized that she couldn't compartmentalize her feelings for Brice, no matter how much she wanted to. From the beginning, she'd been sure it was just a fling, temporary insanity on her part, and blind lust on his. But suffused with a warm glow in the aftermath of the date, she thought she could be wrong, that maybe Brice had a different definition of "fling" than she did. For the length of time, it took to reach the co-op from the bar she'd believed that maybe it was okay to hope, and maybe she didn't have to push away the deeper feelings she had for the handsome millionaire.

But Chelsea's words were followed by an evening of scouring over gossip sites and making awkward conversation with curious co-op members. Apparently, Chelsea wasn't the only one who doubted the seriousness of Brice's proclamation. And as the gossipmonger's words piled up, Janna's doubts climbed and the small flare of hope was smothered. Finally, Shelby had pulled Janna away from the computer and out onto the co-op's covered porch.

The rain was falling gently in the dark night, and Janna suddenly realized it was late. Really late.

"How are you feeling?" Shelby asked softly.

"Not sure." Janna rubbed cold hands down even colder arms. "Earlier tonight I thought I...we would... Now I don't know."

"You know all this media stuff is crazier than a shithouse rat. You can't let this trash get to you. If you had a good time today, then don't let those no-account busybodies ruin it for you. Besides, that Brice Masterson is hotter than a billy goat in a pepper patch. I saw him all sweaty building that playground, muscles bulging. If you aren't interested, maybe I could show him a little southern hospitality."

Janna burst out laughing. Shelby may have had a warped sense of humor, but she had a beautiful heart. Her reassurances had comforted Janna through her shower and getting ready for bed, but now she lay there, restless, confused. The hours ticked away and still her mind revolved, refusing to be quiet. It had always been like this when she was facing a decision that could have lasting consequences. Could she really allow that spark of hope to flame again? Or should she harden her heart right now, keeping herself safe but losing her chance at Brice and happily ever after?

It was a pair of green eyes that decided it for her. Or better yet, the depth of emotion she remembered in those eyes. It was time to take a chance.

The rest of the week passed faster than expected, and Janna kept herself busy, trying to clear her schedule for the weekend. Thankfully she didn't teach on Fridays this term, but she would have to get some grading done over the weekend. Her own research was easier to push off, although she did feel a twinge of guilt, especially whenever she passed her advisor, Professor Twellington, in the hall. Once she had sworn the birdlike woman, called Tweety by the grad students behind her back, had given her a meaningful look while tapping her wristwatch. Tweety never missed a chance to remind her of her advancing age, telling her that, "once you finally finish your dissertation, you still have to find a tenure-track position. Getting tenure is no picnic either, and will pretty much guarantee a heavy workload for the next several years. You're looking at forty before the pressure will let up much."

Janna had been considering those words more and more often lately. She'd come to academia with the perhaps dubious notion that it represented the last bastion of pure research, of intellectual ideas. She didn't consider herself some kind of overeducated snob, but she refused to spend the rest of her life chained to the corporate wheel. It would be too stifling, too meaningless. But the longer she spent in the Ivory Tower, the easier it was to see the cracks. Universities had turned to the corporate model, and profits here, like everywhere else, mattered.

Even more than this, Janna no longer felt the burst of excitement she'd her first few years of graduate school. She'd always loved science, and her inquisitive mind made research a natural fit. She'd especially enjoyed teaching, feeling like she was opening minds to a whole world of wonder undiscovered.

But lately, as the classes began to repeat and the material grew stale, she began to worry that what she thought was a wonder in her students' eyes was really just glassy-eyed indifference. And that didn't include the ones whose eyes she never saw since they were glued to social media on their laptops or smart phones.

It had never been easy to make up her mind career-wise. For some reason, she could see herself wearing so many hats. She could open a bakery, keep a library organized, defend a client in a court of law. She could do quantitative research, lecture on amphibian biology, and even help keep a village's water supply clean. What she couldn't do was choose between all those things.

She couldn't understand how easily everyone around her seemed to be able to put the rest of their lives in well-defined boxes. Even now, when she'd thought she'd finally accepted a future in academia, she was still finding distractions that could derail her. Watercolors. Millionaires.

And as Friday approached, her excitement ratcheted up even further, making it impossible to focus on anything other than the night she'd be spending with Brice. At last, the morning arrived, and she stood at the end of the co-op driveway, waiting for the limo to arrive. The sky was heavy with gray clouds, but buds were unfurling along the tree branches, heralding spring's firm foothold. Janna didn't have to wait long to see the long black car heading up the street. Soon after, she was cocooned inside it, leaning back into the sumptuous leather seats and counting the seconds until they reached the city.

She dug into her backpack and pulled out her laptop. She wasn't certain when she'd be getting back home this weekend, so she'd packed a couple of changes of clothes, a stack of papers in need of grading, her toiletries kit, and her laptop. In the hopes of making the time pass faster, she attempted to read an article containing a phylogenetic analysis of the slender salamander.It didn't work. The words blurred on the page, and after reading the same paragraph about morphological analysis seven times, she gave up with a huff. Closing her laptop, she leaned back again and looked out the window.

Misty raindrops occluded much of the view, but the blurs of greens outside the window helped to calm her. It gave her an idea for a new series of watercolors, inspired by the passing wilderness. She considered how to get a similar effect with her paints, and before long the tall buildings of downtown Portland were only a bridge away. Soon Chase was holding the door open for her, and she was stepping out under the round marquee emblazoned with the name Hotel Monaco.

Janna nodded to the doorman and wandered towards the desk, looking around the lobby in the hopes of spotting Brice. The luxurious decor was distracting, however, the lobby draped in cool colors and heavy carpets, overlapping the intricately tiled floor. Arched doorways reminiscent of Morocco led from the reception area into a huge sitting room, with red walls blazing, and a multitude of jewel-toned chairs and pillows carefully placed amongst the bright lamps and curio cabinets made of dark wood. In the center was a column, around which was situated a curved red sofa that wrapped around it entirely. The room was completed by the heavy presence of a grand piano, and a carpet with a pattern so complex it was almost jarring.

Brice was nowhere to be seen, so Janna pulled out her phone to text him. Looking down at her screen she began crossing the room. Suddenly a pair of strong arms wrapped around her, and she started to melt. He'd been sitting on the red couch, hidden from view by the wide white column. "Hello beautiful," he whispered in her ear from behind, his breath warm on her skin.

She turned, her arms encircling his neck, and smiled up at him, her invitation to kiss her hopefully obvious. Instead, he brought his hand to her cheek and lightly stroked his thumb across her bottom lip. "I'm so glad you're here. Ready to grab some lunch?"

"Aren't we going to go up to the suite?" Mischief was in her eyes, and she saw hunger ignite in his.

"You little temptress. You know damn well if I get you alone in that suite, we won't come up for air for hours. That won't leave enough time for lunch or picking up a gown for tonight. No, we'll stay in public for as long as we can. Besides, it will heighten the anticipation for tonight."

"Oooh," she purred playfully. "I've always fantasized about...a public display of affection."

Brice closed his eyes and exhaled heavily. "Woman, you're going to kill me, do you know that?" Opening his eyes, he gave her a wink and then took her arm, leading her towards the exit.

"Brice, wait. What about this?" Janna asked, bringing her backpack up into view. "You want me to drag this around with me to lunch and shopping? Can't we stop in the suite and drop it off?"

"No, we cannot." He pulled her over to the reception desk and politely asked the woman behind the counter to store her bag. The attendant, eyes wide, pupils dilated in lust for the superb masculine creature before her, could only nod and blush.

Hurrying her through reception and out the door, Brice nodded in signal to Chase, who hurried over to open the limo door. Once he was settled inside Janna moved over to him, straddling him boldly and pressing a hot kiss against his surprised mouth.

"I've missed you," she purred, rubbing against him and kissing him again.

"Oh no, you don't." Brice settled his big hands onto her hips and lifted her off of him, putting her on the seat beside him.

Janna made a little whimper to signal her upset. "Why not? We haven't seen each other for days."
"I know," he replied, his smile mischievous. "And it's been killing me too. But I've got high expectations for tonight, and I'm not letting anything take the edge off this anticipation before I have you completely at my mercy."

"You bastard. I hate waiting."

Brice chuckled and put his arm around her shoulder, pulling her against his side. He leaned in, his voice soft. "Right now it may seem like the waiting is the hardest part," he whispered, his face moving closer to hers, his eyes glued to her lips. "But I can assure you, it's not the hardest part, not by a long shot."

He tugged her hand over to his lap and wrapped it against the erection that was straining his slacks.

Janna moaned at the contact, at the closeness of his mouth to hers. Brice sighed, his breath hot against her cheek. "I guarantee that waiting a few hours is not going to make this go away. It'll drive me crazy all day, thinking about all the ways I'm gonna please you tonight. And when I finally do get you alone, the waiting will have been well worth it."

He removed her hand from his lap. His lips, which hovered a hair's breadth away from hers, suddenly backed away. Instead, he brought his hand up to her face and guided it to his, rubbing his nose against hers. The gesture was sweet but left her aching inside.

Suddenly she couldn't wait to get to the restaurant and out of the limo again. His closeness was making her insane, her panties already damp and he'd barely touched her. She cursed Brice for dragging out the anticipation, but at the same time, she had to admit it was having quite an effect on her. But would she be able to take it all day, this razor-thin ache that cut to her core? Taking a deep breath as the limo pulled to a stop, she determined to try.