Tempting Fate, page 2
"Talking an old lover into giving you everything you want?" she asked acidly.
"You always did have an unfortunate tendency to jump to hasty conclusions, Brooke. If I remember correctly, I warned you that if you ever wanted to become a successful accountant, you'd have to stifle the impulsive side of your nature."
"I've become successful enough to have been offered this position."
"So you have," Donovan agreed, rubbing his chin. Having shaved off his beard only last week, Donovan stil wasn't quite used to its absence.
"However," he decided after observing her for a long, thoughtful time, "I don't believe you've lost your propensity for rash behavior."
"Not that it matters, but you're dead wrong on this one, Donovan. However, since you believe I leaped to a false conclusion, why don't you explain your earlier statement about this not being as easy as you'd hoped?"
He shrugged. "I'm simply surprised to discover how uncomfortable it is attempting to discuss business with you after leaving so many personal things unsettled."
Brooke pressed her fingers against the desktop for support as she felt her knees turning to water. "We settled everything that needed to be settled," she said in a soft, not very self-assured tone.
For one brief fleeting moment, she was his Brooke. That wide-eyed, lovely young thing who had been an enticing blend of cool sophisticate and sensual seductress. Despite the fact that she had adopted what amounted to a campus uniform in those days—jeans, message T-shirts and running shoes—Brooke had not been able to camouflage the aura of restraint that was a direct result of her upbringing.
Like other young women of the era, she had been brought up by the book. However, in her case, the text that had served as Carolyn Stirling's parental bible was not Dr. Spock but Amy Vanderbilt. Brooke's manners were impeccable, and there had been those who had sworn that they had never heard her once raise her voice in either anger or excitement.
But Donovan had known better. Upon spotting her at a fraternity mixer, he had felt as if he had been struck by lightning. Fortunately for the state of his nerves, not to mention his libido, Brooke had been affected no less harshly. By the end of the first week they were lovers. As they continued to be for two long, glorious years.
There had been a time when Donovan had believed that a man could tire of limiting his amorous activities to a single woman; Brooke immediately disproved that erroneous theory. Each time they made love, it was just like the first time.
Only better. There was nothing he found more exciting than releasing the passionate young gypsy who lay hidden beneath Brooke's proper, unapproachable exterior.
Brooke had given him much more than love; with her un-inhibited response to his lovemaking, she had brought sunshine, fantasy and magic into his life. Until this very moment, Donovan had not realized that she had taken al those gifts with her when she left.
"I'm not sure we have," he murmured. He slipped his hands into his pockets to keep from touching her. "What are you doing after your meeting with President Chambers?"
"I'm leaving for Sacramento."
"Sacramento? You just arrived in Claremont last week."
"This offer was total y unexpected. Since I had to spend the past three weeks briefing my replacement on the governor's commission, I didn't manage to get al my things packed before I was expected to show up here for work
"I hadn't realized you noticed I'd arrived," she tacked on quickly, taking a sudden interest in an impromptu touch footbal game starting up on the lawn outside her office window.
"Of course I did."
When Brooke final y returned her gaze to Donovan, her eyes were veiled with soft censure. "You didn't cal ."
Donovan merely shrugged, not wanting to admit the many times during the past seven days he had picked up the phone, only to put it down again.
What could he have possibly said that would have changed things? Giving the matter considerable thought, even as he had tried to drown himself in his work, Donovan had come to the reluctant conclusion that there was nothing he could say or do that would undo the mistakes of the past. It was then he had vowed to keep their discussions solely on business.
Now, as he viewed Brooke's tawny-gold eyes, the soft flush staining her cheeks, the delicate line of her lips, Donovan found himself beginning to regret what might have been too hasty a decision.
"That was my mistake. I'm sorry."
She closed her eyes briefly, as if garnering strength. "You don't have to apologize."
"I think I do," Donovan insisted quietly. "For a great many things."
Brooke had to stifle the impulse to put her hands over her ears to keep from hearing any more of his enticing words. She couldn't—wouldn't—al ow herself to succumb to his charms.
A strident signal suddenly shattered the thick silence per-meating the office, and she could have kissed her secretary for the timely interruption.
Pushing the intercom button, she prayed Donovan would not observe the trembling of her fingers.
"Yes?"
"If you don't leave immediately, Ms Stirling, you'l be late for your meeting with the president." From the woman's tone, Brooke discerned that President Chambers was not that far down from the Holy Father himself when it came to Mrs.
Harrigan's personal hierarchy.
"Thank you, Mrs. Harrigan. I'm just leaving."
As she brushed past Donovan, her perfume hit him like a hard right to the midsection. It wasn't a softly delicate floral, reminiscent of spring gardens, but neither was it the musky, heavy Oriental scent he remembered her mother to have favored. While decidedly feminine, the fragrance was bright, crisp and clean. It reminded him of something, but Donovan couldn't quite pinpoint exactly what.
"I'l walk you over to Sumner Hal ," Donovan offered expansively as he left the building with Brooke.
Outside a coveral -clad workman was cutting the expanse of velvety green lawn in front of the auditorium, and Brooke had to raise her voice to be heard over the lawnmower.
"And give me a treatise on why you're more entitled to additional funds than the rest of your col eagues? No thanks."
Brooke tilted her face toward the expanse of clear blue sky.
"The sun is shining, there's not a speck of smog in the sky, the birds are singing, and I've been locked in that cel of an office since seven o'clock this morning. I'd like to enjoy this little strol ." She waved a greeting to the postman as he peddled by on his bicycle. "Without annoying interruptions."
Donovan grimaced at her dry tone. "And I'm an annoying interruption?"
She stopped her brisk pace just long enough to inhale the sweet scent from a rosebush covered with bril iant scarlet flowers. "I always admired your perception, Donovan."
He plucked a single bud from a stem, ignoring Brooke's murmur of protest as he inserted it into the sleek dark coil at the back of her neck. "You've developed some tough armor in your metamorphosis from student to financial adminis-trator."
Her only response was a slight shrug.
They had reached the ivy-covered brick building housing the administrative offices. As Brooke began to climb the steps, Donovan caught her arm.
"I'd stil like an opportunity to take you to dinner."
"Thanks, but no thanks."
To Brooke's surprise, Donovan accepted her refusal without a word of protest. "Could I at least invite you to drop by the center and see my work for yourself?"
"That's not necessary. Simply submit a proposal, like everyone else, Dr. Kincaid."
His fingers tightened. "I'm not like everyone else."
Brooke's amber eyes handed him a warning. "I'l say this for you," she said slowly, careful y, in an attempt to remain calm, "you're certainly a great deal more rude than the faculty members I've met thus far." With that she shook free, ran up the steps and disappeared behind the heavy doors.
Donovan debated fol owing her. Then, deciding that he'd only anger her further by intruding on her meeting with the col ege president, he sat down on the stone steps, prepared to wait until doomsday, if that's what it took.
He shook his head as he stretched his long legs out in front of him. Brooke was right, he mused, he was wearing one black shoe and one brown one. Not that such behavior was so unusual; Donovan was wel aware of his reputation as the quintessential absentminded professor. Funny that the description had never bothered him until now.
He sighed as he tried to recal his careful y prepared speech concerning his need for additional funding. As he rehearsed the al -important pitch under his breath, Donovan failed to notice the indulgent but decidedly inviting smiles slanted his way by more than one passing coed.
TWO
BROOKE FOUGHT DOWN the unwelcome flash of pleasure she experienced as she exited the building an hour later to find Donovan sitting precisely where she had left him.
"What are you doing here?"
He rose lazily to his feet, giving her that smile she had tried so many times over the years to forget. "Waiting for you."
Her high heels clattered on the steps as she briskly walked past him. "I've already told you, Donovan, send me your proposal and I'l consider it along with the others."
"Don't I at least get special consideration for old time's sake?" he argued, his long legs having no difficulty keeping up with her.
She skidded to a halt, shading her eyes from the bril iance of the sun as she looked up at him. "If you're going to bring old times into it," she warned,
"I may have to send your precious proposal through the paper shredder."
"I don't remember you being so vengeful," he chided softly.
"You were so busy with your stupid monkeys, I'm surprised you noticed anything about me," she snapped as she continued her march down the sidewalk.
"Apes."
"What?" Brooke radiated irritation.
"In those days I was working with chimpanzees," he explained with exaggerated patience. "These days my focus is goril as. But they've always been apes, Brooke. Not monkeys."
"Whatever." She stopped at the corner of Fourth Street and Col ege Avenue to al ow a car to pass. "Just leave that proposal with Mrs. Harrigan," she instructed formal y. "I'l take a look at it when I get back from Sacramento." Dismissing him with a brief nod, she turned toward the ancient Carnegie Building.
Donovan was not to be that easily deterred. "I've got a better idea," he said, taking her arm to turn her in the opposite direction.
"Donovan," Brooke complained, "let me go. I've got work to do."
"I'm only helping you with your work," he argued. 'There's no way you can appreciate my proposal without seeing the subjects firsthand."
"I'm not interested," she muttered, remembering al those hours spent standing idly by as Donovan had struggled to communicate with his stupid monkeys. Apes, she corrected mental y.
"Besides," he added, as if sharing the very same thoughts,
"on a personal note, I'd like you to see how far my work has come since our undergraduate days."
"I've read al about your research in National Geo-graphic. Not to mention Time and Newsweek. The press, at least, appears quite impressed with your work."
"But you're not."
Brooke didn't answer, instead stopping to watch a hum-mingbird hover over a scarlet hibiscus. She loved the lush green parklike grounds of the col ege. The woods at the far edge of the campus held particularly evocative memories.
Memories she knew she was far better off ignoring.
"Remember the afternoon we made love in the woods?"
Donovan asked suddenly.
Brooke didn't dare look at him. "Vaguely," she lied. She could remember every sensual, exciting detail. "I seem to recal being scared to death that someone would come along and catch us."
"I'l admit now that I was as afraid of detection as you were.
But it didn't stop us from taking the chance."
"No," Brooke admitted reluctantly. "It didn't. But we were both crazy in those days."
"Crazy in love, perhaps," he corrected quietly. "Ah, the impetuousness of youth." He smiled at the shared memory.
"God, you were beautiful, your slim girlish body bathed in the gold and claret glow of the sunset."
Donovan eyed the elaborate twist at the back of her neck with scant appreciation. "You were wearing your hair simpler in those days. It was long.
And straight."
She had been able to sit on it. Lord, how he had loved to spend lazy moonlit hours arranging those dark silken strands over her taut young breasts!
"I ironed it."
His lips tilted upward. "I remember. I also remember the time you fried the ends."
"You wouldn't stop kissing my neck," she accused. "It was al your fault I forgot what I was doing."
"I stopped before you burned it off at the scalp," he countered. His expression turned thoughtful. "Perhaps that was my mistake."
"What?"
"Stopping. If I'd kept you in my bed, you wouldn't have gotten wanderlust."
"Me?" She stared up at him. "I think you're forgetting precisely who jilted whom here, Donovan Kincaid!"
His jaw hardened. "I'l admit to making a mistake when I ungal antly rejected your unexpected, rather vague business proposal. But that doesn't mean that I didn't feel like hel , leaving for New York without you."
You couldn't have felt as bad as I did, Brooke could have answered. She wisely held her tongue.
"It's not right to use your personal feelings for me as an excuse to sabotage my research, Brooke," Donovan said quietly.
Annoyance flared in her eyes. Despite her high heels, Brooke had to tilt her head back to glare up at him. The idea that Donovan's lofty height gave him a distinct confrontational advantage infuriated her.
"If I visit your zoo, wil you promise to let me make my decision in peace?"
She could talk as cool y as she liked, but judging by the fire in her eyes, she hadn't lost al of her passion. Donovan welcomed Brooke's anger. It made her more accessible.
His expression turned apologetic. "I can't agree to that.
This project means too much to me."
"So what else is new," she muttered.
An uncomfortable silence settled between them as they continued to walk down the tree-lined sidewalk. Brooke shook her head, wondering what had made her think she could return to work at the same col ege where she had foolishly fal en in love with the bril iant but otherwise committed young scientist.
Upon receiving the offer from the board of regents last month, Brooke had assured herself, during several long pep-talk sessions, that she was an adult woman, with a vital, active career, capable of handling anything. Including working with a former lover.
After having graduated with a degree in accounting, and being jilted by Donovan Kincaid, Brooke had taken a position with a smal but promising computer firm in the heart of what would become known as the Silicon Val ey. Neither of the owners of the company could boast a col ege education, but both were geniuses in the new and growing field of computers.
Within five whirlwind years, Brooke found herself heading a twenty-person accounting department. Despite her hectic work schedule, she managed to attend nearby Stan-ford at night, earning both her M.B.A. and C.P.A.
During that same period of time, she married a successful young stockbroker. Her mother, who had openly disapproved of the vague young student Brooke had brought home from time to time, was thril ed by her daughter's marriage to such a prize catch. Three years later, when the il -fated marriage had ended in an amiable enough divorce, Carolyn Stirling had taken to her bed for a week. Despite the fact that their divorce had been as politely dispassionate as their marriage, Brooke could not deny that the experience had hurt her deeply.
Failure was always painful, she reminded herself now.
Perhaps that was why she was finding this enforced reunion with Donovan so disquieting.
Although she had proven a washout when it came to romantic relationships, at least Brooke could take comfort in the fact that she had proven herself adept at her work. When she had reluctantly approached the owners of the company with the news that she was leaving to open her own accounting firm five years ago, they had not only wished her wel , but sent her enough referrals to al ow her to finish her first year in the black. Four years later she had been both surprised and flattered to receive an offer to join the governor's task force on public funding.
In turn, her high profile and success on the committee had brought her ful circle, back to where she had begun. Confident in her ability, Brooke refused to believe her appointment had anything to do with the fact that one of her ancestors had founded the col ege.
As Appropriations Director for the smal but prestigious liberal arts col ege thirty-five miles east of Los Angeles, it was Brooke's responsibility to examine the funding of various research projects. She was to select those individuals whose work was deserving of continued financial support, while paring down the operating budgets of other ongoing projects. If she were actual y as vengeful as Donovan had accused, it was wel within her power to literal y destroy his life's work. Something she would never do.
However the unpleasant fact remained that she would probably have to drastical y reduce Donovan's funds. With the cutback in federal grants, there was only so much money available. From what she had seen of the budget requests so far, he was in for some very stiff competition.
"It's not much farther," he said, misunderstanding her soft sigh.
How could she forget? Brooke was dismayed to realize that she could find her way to the primate center blindfolded, even after al these years.
Despite her vow to remain personal y disinterested in Donovan's research, Brooke secretly marveled as he put his beloved goril as through their paces. He truly loved them, she realized as he informed the group of his approach with a deep belch. At her poorly hidden look of surprise, Donovan explained the odd sound to be one of Gorilla gorilla beringei's signals. v The next hour flew by as Brooke was introduced to members of Donovan's extended goril a family. She oohed and aahed over the infant, Toto, who, presently suckling tran-quil y at his mother's breast, appeared unconcerned about Brooke's appearance in the compound. As Donovan explained the giant apes' dietary preferences, Brooke found herself accepting a branch of foliage from Auntie Em.
