Learning Curves - By Elyse Mady Page 0,54
great shock.
Leanne spoke suddenly. “And your sorority sisters? Do you keep in touch with them too?”
The comment seemed innocuous enough but Gillian froze for a moment, as though startled by the question, but recovered quickly, although her eyes were glacial as she looked across the circle to where Brandon and Leanne stood.
“Of course I do,” she said sharply. “What kind of silly question is that? Delta Delta Phi forever.” She laughed and took a sip of champagne, but she seemed a little less sure of herself now and kept throwing speculative glances toward Leanne, as if trying to discern her intent.
Jeremy nodded. “Gill’s not the only one with her eye on the prize, though, Sandra. Didn’t I see something about you in the latest alumni magazine?”
“There was a profile in the October issue. I guess they ran it because I was short-listed for the Walters Prize.”
“Impressive.” Jeremy congratulated her and Brandon felt a spurt of jealousy at the honest goodwill in his voice. Gillian scowled too, as though unhappy with the friendly praise her fiancé offered. “When do you hear the results?”
“Not until after the public interview next week. I present to the committee on Tuesday.”
“Yes, Leanne’s always been a good student,” her mother offered and Brandon felt heartened by her support until she added, “Just make sure you wear something nice, with strong colors. And don’t forget to smile. A good smile is very important in these kinds of situations.”
Leanne’s lips quirked at the unsolicited advice. Brandon wasn’t sure if a good smile was important in all situations, but right now it was damn distracting, making him think of all the ways he could apply himself to teasing that elusive tilt from her succulent lips.
A lull made Brandon realize he’d missed a good chunk of the conversation. Jeremy was looking at him expectantly.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “You were saying?”
“Just asking if you’re in the MBA program. Because they’ve got an excellent program for a midsized university, don’t you agree?” Jeremy rummaged in his breast pocket. Withdrawing a business card, he handed it to Brandon.
Investment banker. No big surprise there. Jeremy’s entire demeanor proclaimed his wealth. Brandon felt a momentary spurt of inadequacy but he quickly smothered it. Everything he’d achieved in his life, he’d earned, and while he didn’t begrudge Jeremy his success, he knew he had nothing to apologize for.
“I wouldn’t really know. I’m not in that field, actually.”
“Brandon’s in the faculty of fine arts.” Leanne spoke up then and Brandon felt an unfamiliar lurch of happiness at her proud defense. “He’s a very talented choreographer, working on his PhD.”
Sandra’s demeanor thawed a few degrees. “I studied ballet before I met Leanne’s father,” she confided. “The choreographer was always the lifeblood of any successful performance. What styles do you work in?”
“I’ve dabbled in all of them at some time or another. Jazz, ballet, even some street styles,” he admitted. “But I really prefer a more modern, free-form style for my own pieces.”
Mrs. Galloway actually smiled at that and her resemblance to her daughter intensified. She was a very handsome woman and Brandon had a sudden premonition of what Leanne would look like in twenty-five years.
Jeremy and Gillian’s faces reflected surprise at his unconventional career path, but Brandon couldn’t care less what they thought. All that mattered was that Leanne was proud of him. As for the rest, they could take a flying leap from the nearest cliff. He wasn’t there to impress them. He was there to support Leanne as a friend.
And more?
He was so startled by the idea that he froze, the hand still holding Leanne’s tightening involuntarily. He saw her wince from the corner of his eye, and with an effort, forced his fingers to loosen. But the question still echoed in his mind and he couldn’t dismiss it.
There wasn’t time to formulate a response to that notion, even for himself, because Gillian, peeved that the focus of the conversation had shifted away from her and clearly still smarting from his not so subtle insult earlier, wasn’t quite yet ready to forgive. She smirked. “Aren’t most of the men doing that sort of thing, well, gay?”
Leanne’s less than ladylike guffaw carried across the room, drowning out the muted conversations and the clink of crystal glassware. Heads swiveled. Brandon saw Larry, carrying their drinks, crossing the room, circumventing the groups of chattering guests.
“Thank you for your concern over my sex life, Gillian, but that’s not something I have to worry about with Brandon.” She turned to him,