Tempting Fate, page 7
"I'm afraid I can't comment on that at the moment."
Stephanie appeared undaunted. "I understand. Rules and al that, right?"
"That's right," Brooke agreed. 'The announcement wil be made after next month's board meeting."
Wide blue eyes turned sober. "I hope you're here with good news today, Ms Stirling. Professor Kincaid's real y been down in the dumps lately."
Brooke had to ask. "About his funding?"
Stephanie plucked a forest-green backpack fil ed with books from the floor and shrugged into it. "Of course." She looked at Brooke curiously. "I mean, what else could have him so worried that he'd fal behind on Gloria's language experiments?"
"What indeed," Brooke murmured, al too aware of the fact that Donovan would never permit personal problems to interfere with his work.
"Wel , 'bye," Stephanie said with a wave. "It was super meeting you, Ms Stirling."
"It was nice meeting you, Stephanie," Brooke responded, watching as the young woman left the office to be gathered up into a pair of strong masculine arms. The couple exchanged a kiss, then hand in hand headed across the campus. Brooke stifled a soft sigh at the bittersweet memories the intimate scene evoked.
Thirty minutes later, Donovan stil hadn't arrived. Thinking that he might have come in the back way, Brooke left the office, entering the compound that housed the goril as. She found Gloria watching television while chewing on a peanut butter and jel y sandwich. At Brooke's approach, the ape looked up curiously.
"Hi, Gloria," Brooke signed, pleased when Gloria returned her greeting. When the goril a continued to sign enthusiastical y, Brooke shook her head.
"I'm sorry, I don't understand."
Discarding the snack with what appeared to be an almost human sigh, Gloria walked on her knuckles to the corner of her compound where the computer keyboard was located.
Despite the fact that Brooke knew of the computer experiments from Donovan's proposal, it was stil a bit of a shock to watch the large dark fingers tapping away at the keys.
"Donovan not here," the feminine synthesizer voice offered.
"I know," Brooke answered. "I'm waiting for him."
"Donovan bad man. He no like Gloria anymore."
"Oh, no," Brooke argued, not stopping to consider the bi-zarre fact that she was defending her former lover to a goril a. "Donovan loves Gloria."
"He yel . Bad, bad words."
"He's had a lot on his mind lately."
Deep furrows marred the sloped black forehead. "What mean that?"
Brooke tried again. "Donovan's been working very hard.
Sometimes he forgets to say nice things."
With an air of decidedly feminine pique, Gloria demonstrated that she was not prepared to forgive and forget quite that easily. "He say bad words,"
she insisted. "Him rotten smel y skunk."
"Him, uh, he's not real y a skunk," Brooke assured the goril a. "Just preoccupied."
"Gloria not preoccupied know."
It took Brooke a moment to decode the fractured syntax.
"Busy," she explained.
This the goril a seemed to understand. She nodded, looking at Brooke for a long, thoughtful time. Then she began flashing a rapid series of signs Brooke found incomprehensible.
"I'm sorry," Brooke reminded her. "I only know a few signs. Not nearly so many as you."
Muttering what were obviously goril a swear words, Gloria returned to the keyboard. Brooke knew the giant ape was obviously much more comfortable with signing and appreciated the fact that she was making this extra effort to communicate.
"I know how make happy Donovan," Gloria offered.
Brooke decided that if a goril a could possess a sly smile, the one Gloria was giving her at this moment would probably fit the bil .
"How?"
"You Gloria new television buy." Goril a teeth flashed in a broad grin. "Good idea, yes?"
Brooke found herself unreasonably affected by the hopeful glint in those ebony eyes. Stil , it was not her responsibility to break the bad news to Gloria. Besides, no one was supposed to know of her decision until after the meeting of the board of regents.
Donovan certainly seemed to have surrounded himself with wel -meaning lobbyists, Brooke mused. She wondered if he had trained Gloria to say these things in order to put additional pressure on her. Deciding that idea bordered on paranoia, Brooke shook her head.
"Good idea," she final y answered the waiting goril a.
Glancing down at her watch, she realized that she was already five minutes late for her meeting with Oscar Stevenson, the longtime head of the chemistry department. Brooke had rejected the professor's first proposal as total y out of the question and now the man was back for a second try.
She hoped this one would be more reasonable than his outrageously ridiculous first attempt.
"I have to go now, Gloria," she said, scribbling a quick note to Donovan asking him to give her a cal . "Goodbye. It was nice visiting with you."
"Goodbye pretty lady. You soon come?"
"I'l try."
Gloria's strong dark fingers pecked out a message that was immediately echoed by the oddly mechanical female voice.
"You come. You bring new television."
"I'l come," Brooke agreed, deliberately leaving out any reference to the replacement television.
As she hurried back to her office in the Carnegie Building, Brooke couldn't forget those flashing black eyes. She certainly wouldn't want to be in Donovan's shoes when it came time to inform his prodigy that she'd have to continue watching Mod Squad through a haze of electronic snow for yet another season.
FIVE
Two HOURS LATER, Brooke left her office, her work finished for the day. As she walked to the parking lot she told herself that the fact that Donovan had not responded to her hastily scribbled note was of no interest to her. None at al .
"Al cooled off?"
Brooke spun around to see Donovan leaning against a palm tree. "I've no idea what you're talking about," she said stiffly, turning away to unlock the car door. "What do you do, Professor Kincaid, hang out around parking lots, hoping to pick up women?"
"After that little display of temper last Sunday, I thought it would be better to talk to you out of range of Mrs. Harrigan's beady gray eyes," he explained easily. "I wouldn't want to say anything to cause you to blow your cool, col ected image in front of the dragon lady. You'l soon discover that around here, gossip travels faster than a brush fire during the Santa Ana winds Am I real y that much of a washout when it comes to the feminine sex?"
"Let's just say you could use a few lessons." She climbed into the bucket seat, determined to drive away before he could weaken her defenses further.
Donovan was by the side of the car in two long strides, forestal ing her from fastening her seat belt. "Why don't you give me a few pointers over dinner?"
"I have things to do this evening."
"Such as?"
She looked down at his hand, silently instructing him to release her. "Things."
Donovan failed to take the hint. "How can I understand the female of the species better when you insist on talking in riddles?"
" 'Life's perhaps the only riddle that we shrink from giving up,'" Brooke quoted Sir W. S. Gilbert tightly as she tried to shake free of Donovan's restraining touch.
Her efforts only caused his fingers to tighten. "What the hel does that mean?"
She glared up at him. Golden eyes dueled with green for a long chal enging moment. Final y realizing the ridiculousness of their situation, Brooke began to laugh.
"I don't know. But you have to admit it makes about as much sense as your crack about things not being what they seem. Now you've got me talking in song lyrics."
Donovan joined in her laughter good-naturedly, deciding that this was not the time to tel Brooke that she was dead wrong on this one. Things were not as they seemed; he could sense the intrigue flowing just beneath the surface of their relationship. And as for her quote about life being a riddle, Brooke Stirling had matured into a much more complex woman than he remembered.
"I'm only asking you to dinner, Brooke," he assured her quietly. "I promise not to ravish your delectable female body over the stuffed grape leaves.
Unless you ask me to. Then, of course, I'd be forced to oblige you. It would be the only gentlemanly thing to do."
"I real y have a great deal to do at home," she argued with a decided lack of conviction.
"I know a place with dynamite moussaka. In fact, it's just as good as Dimitri used to make. Except Stavros uses fried zucchini in place of the potatoes." His twinkling eyes coaxed her acquiescence. "You've real y got to taste it to appreciate it. And his baklava is good enough to make the angels sing."
Brooke belatedly realized that she hadn't eaten al day. At Donovan's description of the restaurant's fare, she could feel her mouth watering.
Besides, she assured herself, it would be far simpler to agree than to spend al evening arguing with him. And it had been ages since she'd had Greek food.
"With lemon honey?"
He grinned. "Is there any other way?"
Brooke sighed her surrender. "You're on. But we'l have to make it an early evening. I've got a meeting with the head of the board of regents first thing in the morning, and I want to go over my figures one last time."
"Any chance my grant proposal wil be on the agenda?" he asked casual y.
"You're digging again," she accused. "You know very wel I can't answer that."
Actual y, he was sorry he'd brought the matter up. The question had escaped his mouth before he had had time to censor his words. The one thing Donovan didn't want to do was get into another argument about their work.
"Fair enough," he said reasonably, linking his fingers with hers as she exited the car.
Brooke was frightened by the way his light touch caused her heart to beat a little faster. Why did this man have such an effect on her? Over the years she had learned to control her impulsive streak. The individuals who made up her client list expected conservatism from their accountant and she had done her very best to oblige them. But since returning to Claremont, she found herself continual y tempted to permit herself one incautious, impulsive act. Her unflagging desire to make love with Donovan was staggering in its intensity.
Struck with conflicting emotions, Brooke reminded herself that it would be the height of unprofessionalism to make love to a man whose research funds depended on her acceptance of his grant proposal. In addition, try as she might, she could not put aside their past.
He had broken her heart once before. And by the way he kept attempting to learn her decision regarding his precious proposal, Brooke knew that despite his denials, Donovan hadn't real y changed. His work would always come first.
She continued to remind herself of that fact as she walked with him to the restaurant in the vil age.
"THAT WAS ABSOLUTELY DELICIOUS." Brooke sighed happily as she leaned back against the black vinyl booth. "Although I may never eat again."
Donovan grinned. "I knew you'd love this place."
Brooke's eyes swept the room. A massive mural depicting the Acropolis glowed red under a ceiling-mounted spotlight, and plastic grapevines decorated the wal s. It was colorful y, wonderful y tacky. She smiled.
"It's perfect. Even better than Dimitri's. He didn't have a red light."
"Wel , whatever you want to say about the atmosphere, you can't beat the food. Or the service," he said as a burly Greek appeared carrying two demitasse cups of coffee.
"So, Donovan's young lady," the owner and chef of the restaurant greeted her expansively, "what do you think of Stavros's humble cooking?"
From what she had seen of Stavros Sklavounos thus far, Brooke privately decided that there was absolutely nothing humble about the ebul ient Greek. She kept that impression to herself as she gave him a dazzling smile.
"The moussaka was inspired. I've had it with eggplant in place of fried potatoes, but never zucchini."
"My mother's recipe," the man assured her, making a fleeting, automatic sign of the cross over his massive chest.
"May God rest her beautiful soul."
Brooke murmured a vague agreement.
"So," Stavros said as he sat down beside her, "you approve of the moussaka. But what did you think of Stavros's salad?"
"The best I've ever eaten," she answered truthful y.
"And the baklava?"
"Donovan's right, it could make the entire host of angels smg."
Stavros visibly swel ed with pride as his gaze moved final y to Brooke's dinner companion. 'Tour lady has good taste. So what's she doing with you?"
Donovan laughed. "Slumming, I suppose."
"I'm not his lady," Brooke felt obliged to point out since this was the second time Stavros had brought it up. It didn't escape her notice that Donovan hadn't corrected his friend.
The Greek's alert black eyes moved from Brooke to Donovan and back again. "When I was a young man in Athens, I was a kamaki. Do you know what that is?"
"Here it comes," Donovan groaned. "Come on, Brooke, let's get out of here before you accuse me of setting this up."
Stavros pushed Donovan back down into the black vinyl booth as easily as if he were batting at a pesky fly. "Never interrupt Stavros when he's talking to a beautiful woman."
Brooke found she rather enjoyed seeing Donovan at a disadvantage for once. The Greek was, in a word, huge. And obviously determined to finish his story.
"Please, Donovan," Brooke said, her eyes dancing as she smiled sweetly at him over the rim of her cup, "let Mr. Sklavounos go on." She turned to the restaurant proprietor. "If I remember my col ege mythology course correctly, a kamaki is a spear. The trident of Poseidon."
White teeth flashed appreciatively under a bushy, black mustache. "This one, my friend," he said to Donovan, "is no empty-headed Bobby Dol . I suggest you grab her before she gets away."
"It's Barbie Dol ," Donovan corrected easily. "And you're right about her being bright. But I've already tried to grab her, Stavros, and the lady isn't buying."
"Hah!" Stavros rose from the table to tower over them, his eyes snapping. "This is the lesson I was going to tel you," he said, wagging his finger. "A kamaki is a young man who chases the pretty American tourist girls."
His black eyes danced with masculine appreciation as he grinned down at Brooke. "But to tel the truth, I do not remember any women as beautiful as you, lovely lady."
"Liar," Brooke said easily. She propped her elbows on the red Formica table and rested her chin on her hands. "But I'm fascinated, nevertheless.
Please continue."
Stavros switched his attention to Donovan. "This is what you must remember, my friend," he said firmly. "In order to get good results, a kamaki must have a mouth that runs like water. He must feel strong. How do you say it, self-assayed?"
"Self-assured," Donovan murmured.
Stavros's meaty hand waved away the correction. "Whatever," he said dismissingly. "The thing you must do is never stop. Never give up. If you're good, the girl wil eventual y answer. If you're very good, it wil be more than a maybe."
He thrust out his barrel ike chest. "It wil be yes!" he roared, bel owing the acceptance to the amusement of the patrons scattered around the restaurant.
He clapped Donovan on the shoulder before taking Brooke's hand and lifting it gal antly to his lips. "If Stavros were thirty years younger, he would give Donovan a run for his money."
"I wouldn't think a good kamaki would let a little thing like age stand in the way," Brooke teased with a smile.
Perhaps it had been the wine, or the excel ent food, but she had begun to relax during dinner. Donovan had been careful to keep the conversation light, encouraging her to forget how his uninvited presence in her life had complicated it more than she ever would have thought possible. Now, safely flirting with the outgoing Greek restauranteur, Brooke was thoroughly enjoying herself.
"You're right," Stavros responded without missing a beat.
"However, unfortunately there is always the unhappy fact that my Anna would kil me if I did anything more than look at a beautiful woman." He exhaled a huge, dramatic sigh.
"She has this foolish notion that forty-five years of marriage gives her sole rights to Stavros."
Donovan laughed appreciatively. "Are you tel ing me that the great Stavros, one of the few self-proclaimed male chauvinists left on earth, is afraid of a mere woman?"
The old Greek gave him a pointed look that bespoke a wisdom born from a lifetime of experience. "In matters of the heart, my friend, one must always fear the female of the species."
He smiled down at Brooke. "You must come again," he instructed. "Next time leave this one at home and Stavros wil demonstrate how a good kamaki woos a woman with mere words."
With a deep bow, he was gone. Brooke watched as he gave an effusive welcome to the couple at a neighboring table. "I like him."
Donovan tossed some bil s onto the table. "I thought you might."
It was disconcerting to discover that among his other talents, Donovan appeared to possess the ability to read her so easily. "Am I that transparent?" Brooke asked as they left the smal restaurant.
Donovan took a few moments to answer as they walked back to where Brooke had left her car. A harvest moon was riding upward in the sky and a few of the oak trees lining the sidewalk were wearing their fal colors of gold, crimson and orange although it would be at least another month before the landscape surrendered, albeit briefly, to the change in seasons.
"No, you're not at al transparent, Brooke," he answered final y. "I suppose I simply suspected you'd like Stavros because I like him. And I know how fond you were of Dimitri.
Despite the intervening years, we stil have a great deal in common."
Brooke didn't want to admit that unwelcome fact to herself. There had been too many times during dinner that the years had drifted magical y away and she had felt as if she and Donovan had been transported back in time. To Dimitri's Greek restaurant in the vil age. Where they had gone for their first date. Where he had taken her the night they first made love.
