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“Okay.” She took another drink of her root beer, then hopped out of her chair. “Shove over.”
He did. She sat on the bed beside him, her back against the headboard, knees bent, tablet resting against the slant of her thighs. He reached across to tap in the URL. His forearm rested on her bare thigh for a moment, and he went still, then said, “Why don’t I just…” while she said, “You take it.”
He took the tablet, but his eyes stayed on her thighs for a few seconds longer than the tablet did. Then he took it and swiped and tapped, and soon he was typing terms into the search bar. But he was too broad, and hundreds of results popped up.
“Try under your names, you and your team,” Maria suggested.
He keyed in Solomon Hadik and a handful of patents popped up. So did the recurring lump in Harrison’s throat.
Maria's warm hand slid over his, like you’d pet a cat. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“I know.” He scrolled the list of Solomon’s patents.
“What are they?” Maria asked.
He glanced at her, reminded himself she was a scientist, too. Hard to remember when she was so damn cute all the time. Neanderthal remnants in his brain didn’t automatically connect cute and sexy with smart professional.
Wait,sexy?
Yes. Sexy as sin.
She moved on the bed, leaning away from him to get her mug. When she leaned back again, she was touching him from shoulder to hip to thigh, to knee. Her shorts left her legs bare and made him wish his were, too…
Whoa, now! Not good, not good, not good.
“Um, right, Solomon’s patents. They make fuel burn more efficiently in different types of combustible engines, small and large. He has a separate patent for each type.”
She nodded, then said, “Try searching under Robert. Of them all, he’s the only one who resembles the guy that took your car.”
Nodding, he entered Robert’s full name, hit enter, and thought he’d made a mistake when nothing happened. He tried again. No results. Zero. Robert had never patented a thing.
“Trying Carrie,” he said, tapping the screen. “Just her two patents. She came up with this foam you used to insulate mugs that can keep their contents hot for hours. Licensed the rights, but kept the patent. She’s always been ingenious about things like that, maximizing profit from her work. The second one of hers was the same, but in thermal canisters.”
“I didn’t know how any of this worked before.”
Her “I” always sounded like “Ah” and it made his spine tingle every time she said it. Silence stretched out and he realized he was staring at her thighs again, and she was staring at him staring at her thighs. He looked at her face instead, but that brought his lips awfully close to hers, and her gaze grabbed his and held on.
He was going to kiss her. Yes, he was going to do it. He tilted his head ever so slightly. Her brown eyes widened, but she didn’t turn away, and then he pressed his lips to hers even while his brain was telling him it was a terrible idea. He kissed her.
She slipped her hands around his nape, fingers sliding up into his hair, and she kissed him back. And then their lips parted. He started to lean in again, and the next thing he knew, she was shoving a frosty root beer mug in between them.
“Uncle Garrett’s homemade root beer’s good, isn’t it?” she asked, nodding with her eyebrows arched high.
He took a sip, having no choice as she put the mug to his lips. It was sweet, but not as sweet as that kiss. “It’s amazing.”
“Told you.” She sat back on the bed and resumed sipping from her mug as if nothing had happened, so he tried to rein in his feelings of desire, arousal, yearning, confusion, and then desire again.
He distracted himself by resuming his search for the patent.
By the time the root beer mug was empty, he’d determined that no patent had been filed for the solar tile. He didn’t know why Carrie hadn’t done it, but she hadn’t.
“What’s stopping you from filing it right now?” Maria asked.
“I’d need a prototype.”
“Can you build a new one?”
“I’d need my lab. My equipment.”
