Learning Curves - By Elyse Mady Page 0,29
been interested in attending these informal gatherings. He preferred meeting with established faculty at events with more cachet. But Brandon seemed genuinely pleased to be included and had gone out of his way to get to know the other invitees too.
Leanne envisioned other gatherings, other events. Seth and Joe’s infamous poker nights. Gilly’s family cottage during the reading week. They could hike and cross-country ski during the day and laze in front of the fireplace at night, watching a movie side by side.
It was all too perfect, really. Because as much as she might long for a relationship with a man like Brandon, she knew it could never come to fruition. Her career came first. The sacrifices she’d made to reach this point were too many and too involved to be shoved aside at the first pretty face.
Yet just before midnight, when Brandon stood and stretched, a narrow wedge of hard abs flashed into view and Leanne swallowed, her mouth dry. He wasn’t just pretty, he was utterly gorgeous.
He patted his flat stomach and grinned at the hostesses. “Julia. Cassandra. I need to get going but thanks for a great evening. I couldn’t eat another bite and I’m apt to fall asleep on your very comfortable sofa and embarrass myself by drooling. Or snoring.”
He flashed a quick glance at Leanne and when their eyes met, she bit her lips to keep from defending his sleeping habits. After all, they hadn’t actually slept together, not overnight. She’d squeezed her eyes shut on Saturday night when the pleasure he’d inflicted on her willing body had become too overwhelming to bear. But that wasn’t sleep and…
The room had gone silent. Leanne came out of her daydreams with a jolt. Twelve pair of eyes were fixed on her and she realized she and Brandon had somehow become the focus of her friends’ attention. The guys looked perplexed by the expectant silence but the girls’ expressions were far too knowing for her comfort.
“You’re welcome anytime, Brandon,” Julia offered enthusiastically. When Cassandra didn’t utter the same assurances, she nudged her.
“And I’d love to see that pressing of the Davis sessions you mentioned,” Cass finally said and while her tone still conveyed reserve, a note of grudging respect boded well for a continuing thaw in relations. “Bring it next time.”
“I’d like that.” He paused, the brief silence quickly filled by goodbyes from the remaining guests. Leanne struggled to find something casual to say.
“Well, I’ll let you get going,” she finally offered. Even as the inane words came out of her mouth, she wanted to slap her palm to her forehead. Four languages, two and a half university degrees and this was the best she could come up with? The only way she could salvage her dignity was through escape. “I’m going to start cleaning up.”
“No,” Julia said loudly. Moderating her tone, she continued, “No, you don’t need to do that. You walk Brandon downstairs, okay?”
A conspiratorial glance passed between Ginny and Julia, and Leanne conceded defeat. She made her way to the front door to hunt down his coat. It wasn’t easy to ignore the six-foot-plus man trailing behind her but she tried
“Is this it?” she asked, pulling out a leather jacket. She could smell the woodsy tannins emanating from the jacket. They reminded her of just how close she’d gotten to the jacket—and the man inside it—last night, when they’d kissed in the rain.
As if he read her mind, Brandon’s eyes darkened and he edged nearer. He wrapped his fingers around hers, so they were both holding the jacket together. “Yes,” he said, his hand tightening. “Yes, it is.”
“Well, good,” she replied, trying hard to remember the mechanics of respiration. It went something like breathe in, breathe out, right? She inhaled another delicious lungful of Brandon and the scent made her woozy with desire. Leanne’s blood popped and fizzed through her veins like champagne. Desire made her brain sluggish, all thoughts but Brandon scattered and ephemeral.
“Will I see you tomorrow night?” Leanne was confused.
“Tomorrow?”
“The tickets.”
“Oh, right,” she finally said. “We’ll be there. Eight o’clock, right?”
“Eight o’clock,” he agreed, pausing as though he wanted to say something else. “We?”
“We what?” He had this effect on her—as soon as he was in sight, or even worse, touching distance, her brain turned into hormonal mush.
“Are you bringing someone to the show?”
Don’t read too much into it, Leanne. He’s just being polite, she warned herself, but her pulse still sped up, beating with an erratic staccato rhythm. “My dad. I’m