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God, she was such an interesting person. Just when he thought that he knew who she was, she admitted that she meditated and he was even more captivated. If he was being honest with himself, his coffee consumption had skyrocketed as their friendship had developed.
He just liked spending time with her.
Like a buddy, he assured himself.
“Eight-grade school project, huh? That’s an elaborate story.”
“Oh,” she said with a smile and a dismissive gesture with her hands, “there’s more to the story. I just gave you the highlights.”
“Okay, so maybe meditation would help me with my search for spark. But I don’t think you’re guaranteed to win because yours is scientific. Your algorithm limits your pool of possibilities. I’m open to anyone. Thus, I have numbers on my side and will win.”
When she lifted one corner of her mouth, her cheek went from looking serious and intellectual to having the curve of an apple. Cute enough to eat, especially when she was embarrassed or caught up in the heat of an argument.
“I predict that you’ll drown in the numbers and not be able to differentiate one woman from the next.”
“Shall we shake on it?”
She evaluated him long and hard. “We need a better prize than bragging rights. I mean, I love to brag, but…”
No, she didn’t. She was one of the smartest people he’d ever met, and she never bragged about that. She persistently pushed until she got her way—and she was usually right—then she moved on to the next problem without looking back and without an “I told you so.”
“Fine. Bragging rights assumed because you will have the love of your life in your bed. What else is good?”
She looked off into space for a moment before turning her attention back to him. “Date night.”
“Date night?”
“Yeah. The other person will be with the love of their life, but even spending time with your true love needs a boost every now and then. So the loser buys the winner and their partner a fancy date. Dinner out in Durham and a show, maybe. Or a couple’s trip to the spa. Or golfing.”
“Golfing?”
“No judgment about what the couple likes to do together,” she said, her hands out wide. “I guess we can put a dollar limit on it, or just agree that creativity is better than extravagance.”
“I can get behind that. Now can we shake on it?”
She nodded, once and hard, then pushed herself away from her desk. She was tall and slim, and her legs looked a million miles long. She was wearing a pencil skirt, not pants. Hmm, she surprised him again. He rose to meet her as she came around the side of her desk, her hand out for a shake.
Their hands slipped together. Her fingers were longer than he’d thought they’d be, which was a silly thought because of course she would have long, elegant fingers. Everything about her was long and elegant. Then she tightened her hand and he responded. She had a grip he could feel all the way up to his shoulder, strong and assertive. Three solid shakes and when she pulled her hand back, the nail from one of her fingers trailing across the center of his palm as she did so.
“So now that that’s settled, should we get some coffee?”
“Yes.” He hadn’t slept well last night, so he’d already had two cups that morning, but his answer to coffee with Marsie was always yes.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE PLACE SHE met Trevor for their second date was nice. Dark, but in a cozy, Paris-nightclub way with red couches, and chairs that she sank into when she sat down. She was practically submerged in the cushions and had to shove herself up using the arms when Trevor came through the curtains around the front door.
“Hey,” she said, leaning in for a hug. He didn’t kiss her cheek, or even try to, which was okay. She’d worn a red bra, just in case, but she wasn’t feeling it yet. Maybe after this date.
Hopefully after this date.
“Hello,” he said, lifting up her arms and looking her over. “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks. Work clothes. I didn’t have time to change. I’ve got a grant application due and those are always last minute, even when you try to make sure they aren’t.”
