Professor Love (5 page)

“So why did you bring me to three weddings?” he finally asked.

Sophy looked him straight in the eye. “Romance.”

“Romance?”

She nodded. “You need some work in that area.”

His dark eyebrows drew together in a frown. “I do?”

“Obviously. You can’t understand the appeal of romance novels if you don’t understand the appeal of romance,” she explained. “Weddings are romantic.”

He spun them to the left. “Weddings are mass delusions. Brainwashing.” He glanced down at Sophy. “And close your mouth or I’ll close it for you,” he threatened.

Her jaw snapped shut—she remembered the last time he had closed her mouth for her—and she stared at Max in astonishment. “What is this thing you have against romance?”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “What is this thing you have for romance?” he mimicked.

She jabbed a finger in his chest. “Just look over there at the bride and groom; don’t they look happy?”

He glanced over at the dancing couple. “They should be. Check out the gift table—they made out like bandits. Weddings are officiated grand larceny.”

“They’re in love!”

“Maybe, but the odds are against them.”

“Not every marriage ends in divorce,” Sophy reminded him. She sure didn’t plan for hers to.

“But some that should, don’t. What a waste.” He made a soft clucking noise with his tongue and Sophy had the sudden urge to kick him in the shin. The man was impossible.

“What do you have against marriage? What do you have against romance?”

Max’s gaze suddenly turned serious and his right hand vacated its position on her shoulder blade to rise between them and gently lift her chin. “Why is this so important to you?”

She ducked her head to avoid the questions in his eyes, and leaned her forehead against him. “It’s just a job,” she mumbled into his chest. More a hobby that she wished was a job.

His thumb stroked her neck and traced a path along her collarbone. “No, it’s not just a job for you. It’s more than that. What is it?”

She blinked away the tears that threatened to fall, shocked at the overwhelming sadness that lurched in her throat. He was right, it was more than that. Why did she cry over sappy movies? Why was she disappointed with every man she met? Why did she buy fresh flowers for her bedside table every week?

Because she was an unabashed romantic. At least, unabashed until now. Max was starting to make her feel ashamed of being an old-fashioned sap. When she was sure she could look in his eyes without bursting into tears, she clenched her jaw and tipped her head back.

“I want romance. I want a happy ending. Is that too much to ask?” Her gaze slid away to the towering gift table in the corner.

His finger stilled and rested in the groove of her collarbone. The way he watched her made her uncomfortable. “Maybe, in today’s world.” The lines around his grim lips softened as his gaze flicked over the beaming bride and groom. “Then again, people get lucky. Were your parents lucky?”

“No,” she said dully.

“Ah, I see.”

“No, you don’t see. You have no idea.” She tried to jerk away, but his arms locked around her waist like a steel cage and yanked her closer.

“Explain it to me.”

His hold on her eased but she knew that if she tried to make a break for it, he would pull her in tighter. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she struggled for composure yet again. She hated losing control; it was so humiliating.

“There’s nothing to explain. My parents were unhappy. End of story.”

“And you were unhappy. Poor Sophy,” Max murmured.

“Don’t feel sorry for me! I wasn’t unhappy! I was just—” She didn’t know what she was. Idealistic? Naïve? Disappointed?

He drew back and watched her warily. “I’m sorry.”

“I said—”

He wrapped his fingers over her rising fist. “I mean, I’m sorry for sounding as though I pitied you.”

Sophy blinked away some more tears and her body relaxed against his. He was so warm, so strong.

“You’re not supposed to be sensitive and understanding.” She told herself she should just take his sympathy while she could get it—it had been her experience that it was a fleeting thing in most men.

He frowned. “Pardon me?”

They started moving again, dancing lazily to the next song. Sophy gave him a lopsided grin and tried to explain, “It’s not heroic. You’re supposed to be demanding and macho. Forceful and unsympathetic. An alpha hero. Or maybe a gamma, if you want to be a little sensitive.”

“Alpha? Gamma?” He looked confused.

“Women like alpha heroes.”

“They do? They sound like assholes to me.”

Sophy shrugged and rested her cheek against his chest. She tended to agree. “That’s what they say.” His heart thumped in her ear rhythmically. Loudly. She raised her head. “What did you say?”

“So I’m not romantic, and I’m not an alpha, gamma, epsilon, whatever. Then why do you want me?”

She met his questioning gaze and her mouth opened slightly. Was he referring to her wanting him as her hero, or something more? She shook her head.

“I don’t know. I just do,” she blurted out. Then she realized that she did want him, more than she’d wanted anyone she’d ever met.

His eyes darkened and she knew he was going to kiss her before he bent his head to hers. She knew, and she was powerless to stop it. The brutal truth was that she didn’t want to stop it. And she also knew that this time, he didn’t have an excuse like shutting her up. Maybe this time, he just wanted to kiss her. It was a heady feeling.

His mouth was as hard and as strong as his arms wrapped around her. He nibbled on her lower lip and traced a line across it with his tongue. His fingers burned into her skin as he held her, and he murmured soft words against her mouth. Words she couldn’t understand, words she couldn’t hear—they mingled with the champagne on his breath to envelop her in a haze of soothing intoxication.

She clutched at him, terrified by the depth of feeling he was managing to elicit from her with just the touch of his lips and his gentle hands roaming up and down her back, dancing over her muscles and following the seemingly boneless curve of her spine.

It was too much.

Her heart hammered in her chest, nearly drowning out the soft rhythms of the band in the corner, and their dance was forgotten.

They stood in the middle of the crowded room, but nobody dared come near them. She moaned softly as his mouth dragged over her cheek to nip her jaw, and his hot hands rose up her arms to knead the muscles in her shoulders.

“This is wrong,” she whispered into his ear.

“This is romance,” he murmured. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Oh
. Carefully, she reached up and pulled his hands away from her. “I see,” she said between gritted teeth. She should have known not to fall for the fantasy.

Max blinked, and some of the cloudiness in his eyes disappeared. “You see what?”

Sophy stepped away from him and smoothed her dress down, furious that her body still stung from his touch. “There’s no need to mock me.”

“I wasn’t mocking you, damn it. I was just trying to point out that you don’t have to have
love
to have romance. Romance can be lust, too.”

She snorted. “Well, I hope you enjoyed your little experiment, but pity kisses aren’t my style.” She wasn’t sure with whom she was more disgusted—him, for proving his asinine little point, or herself for wanting him to prove it again.

Max dragged a hand through his hair. “It wasn’t a pity kiss, Sophy. For God’s sake—”

She shifted her weight to her other hip and her toe tapped restlessly on the parquet. “Oh, so you’re in love with me?”

He glanced furtively around, as though he was afraid someone had heard her. “I—“ His shoulders slumped a little. “No, I’m not in love with you.”

Even though it was what she had expected to hear, Sophy’s heart still sunk at the words. But then, had she really been expecting him to fall head over heels in love with her?

“Then why did you kiss me?” She cringed at the faint whine she could hear in her voice.

“Because I wanted to!” Now someone heard him.

His voice rose over the screech of violins halting, and Sophy suddenly realized that the whole room was watching them. It was the library all over again. Only this time she was definitely making a scene.

“What do you have against romance? Why don’t you believe in love?”

He reached out and clamped a hand on her arm, tugging her towards him. “Look, it’s not you. It’s me. I used to be—”

“Sophy!”

Sophy’s head whipped around at the sound of her name, the last syllable that Max had uttered echoing in her mind. What did he used to be? Frigid? A rent boy? Married? The music started again and the familiar voice rose out of the crowd as the owner descended upon them.

“Sophy, what are you doing here?”

Sophy’s mouth fell open. “Mom? Dad? What are you doing here? And
together
?” Her parents had finally divorced the year before, and were much happier apart than they ever were together. At least as far as Sophy could tell.

Her mother laughed. The movement of her chest made the half-dozen strands of brightly colored beads around her neck rattle. She tugged at them with a delicate hand and her brown eyes sparkled with love at Sophy, and curiosity at Max. “Honey, I didn’t know you knew the Chans! You know your father works with the bride’s mother?”

Sophy blinked again, realizing she still had the presence of mind to be embarrassed at being caught crashing a wedding. “I don’t know them. Uh, Mom, Dad, this is—”

“Max Wright,” her father announced, grabbing a hold of Max’s hand and shaking it vigorously. “Nice to see you again.”

“What?” Sophy’s gaze flickered from her parents to a very nervous Max. “How do you know Max?”

Her mother smiled indulgently at her. “Sweetie, Dr. Wright is the reason your father and I got divorced.”

“
W
hat
?” Sophy stared at her parents, then Max, hoping that thudding sound she heard was her heart, and not her jaw dropping to the parquet floor. She must have heard wrong.
Max
was responsible for her parents’ divorce?

She wheeled on her mother and lowered her voice. “Mother, did you and Max...” The words stuck in her suddenly dry throat and her mother burst into laughter.

“Good grief, no!” She turned to her ex-husband and waved a hand absently. “Your daughter thought that Dr. Wright and I...”

Sophy’s father chuckled. Max turned bright red. Sophy glanced around furtively; the gift table was stacked pretty high, maybe she could hide behind it.

Her father was still pumping Max’s hand up and down. “Maura and I really can’t thank you enough, Dr. Wright.”

Sophy frowned.
Thank him for what
? She winced, knowing that her frail-looking father actually had the handshake of a raptor. She only hoped that Max would still have feeling in his right arm when her dad finally let go. Stepping forward slightly, she linked her arm through Max’s and pushed him a foot or so over to one side, effectively breaking her father’s death grip. It was a subtle move she had learned years ago.

“Dad, I’m confused. Exactly how do you know Max?”

Her mother twisted her beads together nervously and glanced at her ex-husband. Then she turned back to Sophy, her smile dripping sympathy. “Honey, he was our marriage counselor.”

Sophy dropped Max’s arm as though her mother had just said that he had been her gigolo. Or her divorce lawyer. She turned to Max and narrowed her eyes.

He held up a hand. “Hey, I had no idea that you were your parents’ daughter. I mean, that your parents were related to you. I mean...”

Her father chuckled. “It’s okay, my boy. We know what you mean. Are you still doing couples therapy?”

“No, I’m a psychology professor over at the university now.”

Sophy’s mother sighed. “Oh, that’s a shame. You were such a good marriage counselor.”

Max smiled tightly. “Yes, except for the fact that every couple ended up in divorce court.”

Sophy frowned. “How many?”

“How many what?”

“Couples. How many couples?”

“Oh.” His smile faded altogether. “Twenty-two.” Sophy gasped softly; she couldn’t help it. “In a year,” Max added gloomily. “I had a very busy practice.”

Sophy fell silent, wondering if his dismal track record could explain his distrust of romance. It would make a lot of sense. Maybe his research study would be more positive.

“Well, it just proves that those people weren’t meant to be married in the first place,” announced her mother. “Doesn’t it, Richard?”

“God knows we weren’t,” he mumbled.

“Exactly.” Maura Hadden beamed at all of them, and her eyes widened as the band started playing a tango. “Richard? Shall we?”

He shrugged and allowed his ex-wife to lead him off. He called out behind him, “I can’t live with her, but she’s a terrific dancer. It’s the only reason I invited her to this. Don’t be a stranger, Sophy! Good to see you, Mr. Wright.” His slight figure disappeared into the crowd and within seconds it was as though they had never been there.

“Dr. Wright,” Max muttered.

Sophy could almost convince herself that she never saw them, except for the burning in her stomach and the throbbing behind her eyes. She raised the back of her hand to her forehead wearily.

“I think I get it now.”

He took her other hand and led her back to the table. “What do you get?”

“Your animosity towards marriage,” she said dully.

“I’m not against marriage, when it works. But it often doesn’t.”

She dropped into her chair and stared up at him. “Why doesn’t it work?”

He sat down beside her, not answering right away. She had meant it to be a rhetorical question, half in jest, but the longer he remained silent, the more she anticipated his reply. He plucked at the curly pink ribbons on the box beside his plate, then offered a wedding chocolate to her.

She popped one into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “You haven’t answered my question,” she mumbled around a truffle.

Max pushed the small white box around on the table, then met her curious gaze with a blank expression. “Most marriages don’t work because of romance,” he finally said.

Sophy sat up straight in her chair and started to protest.

“Just hear me out,” Max asked, his jaw rigid and his mouth set in a thin line.

She nodded slowly and swallowed the truffle.

He continued, “People get so wrapped up in romance and lust that when they decide to get married, they don’t stop to consider that they might be totally wrong for each other. Too many couples, like your parents, think that having great sex is a great foundation for marriage.”

Sophy shifted in her seat, distinctly uncomfortable at the idea of her parents having sex, great or not. She preferred to believe that her mother found her in the garden under a cabbage leaf. “So what do you think is a good foundation for marriage?”

He reached into the box and pulled out a rum ball. “I’m not sure. Mutual respect, friendship, common interests.” He tossed the rum ball past his teeth and licked his fingers. “None of which your parents had,” he said pointedly.

“Until now.”

He tilted his head. “Yes, you’re right. Which just goes to show, they’re better off divorced.”

“Let me get this straight. You think that love isn’t a good basis for marriage?” she said incredulously.

“Not exactly.
Lust
isn’t a good basis for marriage.”

“Lust?”

“Yeah, lust. Hormones. You know, secreted by the—” He broke off as she glared at him.

“Can’t it be a good starting point?”

Was that pity in his eyes? “You are a hopeless romantic, aren’t you?”

She shrugged.

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But it’s never the ending point. That’s usually broken dishes and shouting matches.”

“But what about true love?”

“Doesn’t exist,” he said matter-of-factly, and reached into the box for another chocolate.

She sighed and slumped in her seat. Waving off the offer of champagne truffle, she eyed him carefully. “You’re not human, that must be it. Isn’t there anything you feel passionately about? You know, something that gets your heart racing and makes your skin tingle?”

Max turned slowly in his seat to look at her. The tip of his tongue poked out to drag across his lower lip, catching a stray smudge of melted chocolate.

Sophy inhaled sharply, mesmerized by the movement of his mouth. A pool of warmth spread through her stomach and she turned away.

“Forget I said anything,” she said brokenly.

His voice broke through the haze surrounding her brain as she struggled to ignore him and the slow fire burning deep in her body. “I believe in passion,” he said carefully, sounding as though the admission pained him. “Passion exists.”

Slowly, she turned her head to meet his darkening gaze. “Show me.”

“
T
his
is your passion
?” Sophy shoved her sunglasses up on her head and looked around herself in bewilderment. And he thought
she
was crazy?

Max trailed a hand reverently over a nearby display model and smiled softly. “Why not?”

“But they’re... they’re...” she sputtered in disbelief.

“Computers, I know. What’s so strange about that? You have one, don’t you?”

She eyed him warily. “Yes, of course. But I don’t fondle it in a public place. There’s probably a word for that.”

“Technosexual.”

Good heaven, he knew that? And did he just sigh?

“I have to pick up a new backup drive,” he told her. Waving towards the far corner of the store, his eyes lit up suddenly. “Wow, I didn’t think this was coming out for another two weeks,” he murmured and stalked towards a laptop display.

Sophy sighed and pushed her tote bag further up on her shoulder. Unbelievable. When she had asked him to show her what he was passionate about, she was hoping for something a little more, well,
heroic
. Poetry. Fine wine. Maybe horses. Not this. For such a handsome man, he had astonishingly geeky tastes.

Well, maybe it wasn’t so bad. Computers were certainly an important part of life, right? She knew there were people out there who treated their computers like their children, lovingly wiping the static from the monitors and rhapsodizing over each feature as though it were a first tooth. She just wasn’t one of them.

Just because she had a four year-old laptop didn’t mean that she was computer illiterate. Sophy just didn’t see the need to keep buying new stuff every six months when what she had worked just fine. All she used was the internet and her word processor.

“Sophy, look at this!”

She sighed again and walked over to Max. “What?” She looked where he was pointing, but didn’t quite understand half the words on the packaging.

“Oh, I have to get this!”

She’d never seen him so excited, and it was a relief. It was nice to know he was indeed passionate about something, even if it was a small metal box. She picked up the brochure beside the display and peered at it.

She started reading the specs out loud, not even sure what they meant. Until she heard a slight hiss, and glanced up at Max.

His jaw was clenched and his pupils were dilating. He inhaled slowly and deeply, a flush crawling up his neck. She took in his flaring nostrils and the flaming tips of his ears and grinned.

“Why, Dr. Wright, I think this is turning you on.” Okay, so he
was
passionate. She stifled the urge to laugh, and laid down the brochure. Max Wright was apparently a hot geek at heart.

He turned away from her and caressed the smooth metal. Sophy’s gaze was riveted to the lean length of his fingers trailing over the letters on it, and she shivered. Wrapping her light cardigan around her, she muttered, “Damn air conditioning. Uh, your drive?” she prompted.

“Oh, right. I’ll go get it. You want to come?”

“No, I think I’ll look around a little.”

“Good idea.” He nodded. “Maybe you could look for something to replace what you’ve got now.”

She bristled. “There’s nothing wrong with what I’ve got now. It works just fine.”

Max shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. Grinning, he replied, “Yeah, but the hamster running around inside of it must be getting pretty tired.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Go get your stuff.”

As soon as he moved away, she swiftly loaded her Amazon author page on every computer and device on display that she could.

W
hy were
romance novels adored by so many, yet sneered at by so many others? Max chewed on the end of his pen and pondered the question. Drumming an impatient tattoo on the edge of his laptop, he sat in his office and stared at the blank screen in front of him.

His research was going much better now, thanks to Sophy’s input, but he still couldn’t figure out what made millions of readers of romance so loyal to the genre.

He tapped the pen against his teeth absently, and pecked out a few words with his right hand.

Looking for a hero
.

Sophy certainly was; he knew that much. And she seemed to want to cast him in the role. He wished she wouldn’t; she’d only be disappointed.

His fingers stilled and tightened on the pen. Yes, she would be disappointed. He had a great gift for disappointing people. Like Trisha, his former clients looking to mend their marriages, his parents who wanted him to go to medical school. He knew that the Doctor in front of his name was not the kind they had been hoping for. Even Chapaty would be disappointed in him if this damned paper didn’t get written soon.

Max dropped the pen on the desk and leaned back in his chair. His lips twisted as he ruminated that for once, just once, he would like for someone to want him for who he was, not what they expected him to be or to do.

The buzzing movement on his desk brought him out of his funk of self-pity, and he auto-saved as he reached for his phone.

“Dr. Wright,” he announced.

“Hi, Max!”

He sighed. “Sophy.” Her brief greeting had sounded positively exuberant, which was always a bad sign. “You know what? I’m really tired today. I’m not sure I’m up to any more of your harebrained schemes.”

“Ah, but this isn’t a harebrained scheme.”

Max frowned. “Ha! Right. So far you’ve been the Wile E. Coyote of romance research.”

She giggled nervously. “This is different! I promise!”

“What is it?” He had good reason to be suspicious. After all, the last time she had sounded this optimistic, he had ended up practically mooning his boss.

“You’ll see. Are your classes done for the day?”

“Sophy, it’s June. Classes have been over for over a month.”

“Oh right. Then you’ll have no excuses.”

“What?”

“I’ll pick you up in front of your office in twenty minutes.”

The click echoed in Max’s ear as she hung up. He sighed, replacing the receiver with resigned wariness. He wondered if it was too late to call his insurance agent. There must be a policy against inhumane humiliation.

True to her word, she was waiting outside in exactly eighteen minutes. Her small compact vibrated silently as she rested her arm on the open window. She was humming along to the radio when he opened the passenger door and leaned in.

“Where are we going?”

She turned towards him with a broad smile, and he suspected that her eyes were sparkling behind her sunglasses. “It’s a surprise.”

The word sent shivers down his spine. He slammed the door shut behind him and started walking away from the car.

Another clunk sounded and he heard her sandals slapping on the asphalt as she ran after him. “Hey, wait a minute!”

He pivoted on one heel and crossed his arms over his chest. “Give me one good reason why I should go anywhere with you.”

He knew he was being petulant, but he was tired, and staring at his blank screen all morning hadn’t exactly helped. If he didn’t get some writing done soon, he could kiss his grant goodbye. Not to mention his merit increase. And tenure.