A Fine Specimen (9 page)

Well, dammit, she
was
an adult, though she’d been a student since she was four years old.

Caitlin looked down at
herself and winced. Okay, she was an adult with an honest-to-god job—or the next
best thing, a fellowship—but she sure didn’t
look
like an adult. The
clothes were pure Early Student. Worn sneakers, ancient, faded jeans and an old
cotton sweater which bagged nearly to her knees and reached to her fingertips.
Every item of clothing she had on, including her underwear, was at least five
years old.

She had some money in
her checking account that she’d been hoarding. Now she didn’t have to hoard so
much because money would be coming in.

Adult
money, not student money.

She could buy some clothes.
New clothes, new shoes, makeup. Go to the hairdresser. Tomorrow would be
Caitlin Day. Celebrate the start of the next part of her life in
style
.

Maybe give the
inscrutable Alex Cruz a surprise tomorrow night.

Hoo-ah!

* * * * *

Alex nearly swallowed
his tongue whole when Caitlin emerged from the Carlton’s elevator at 7:30 on
Saturday evening.

Holy fuck!

She was right on time,
as he’d expected she would be. She might look like a teenager, but she had
shown herself to be serious, reliable and committed to her work.

Except Caitlin Summers
didn’t look like a teenager now. She looked like a woman. A drop-dead gorgeous
woman. A woman he had a date with.

Jesus, not a date
, Alex backtracked immediately inside his head.
No, no way. He was just looking after her, like Ray would have wanted. And if
he found himself wearing his new lightweight wool jacket and new loafers,
well…you had to break in something new sometime, didn’t you?

Thoughts of pants and
loafers flew straight out of his head when Caitlin walked out the open doors of
the rusty elevator. His head wasn’t thinking straight but, Jesus Christ, his
body was. It sent up as immense clamor.
That one
! it shouted.
I want
that one!

He’d been looking for
another woman entirely when all of a sudden this…this siren stepped out. Alex
had actually been looking at the wrong height for her head and found himself
staring at her very beautiful neck. A quick glance down showed that she had on
a pair of fuck-me shoes that on some women looked ridiculous and yet, on her, God!
They made her legs look a mile long.

Caitlin was dressed in a
sexy, clinging turquoise sheath which lovingly caressed curves that had only
been hinted at before in her old, baggy clothes. She wore makeup that made her
eyes enormous, her mouth look like something that would raise a man from the
dead and accentuated high, slanting cheekbones. Her pale blonde hair had been
caught up in some sophisticated hairdo, exposing a slim, graceful neck. Those
high heels changed everything, lifting her mouth that much closer to kissing
range…

Alex shook his head, as
if to rid it of wayward thoughts. No kissing tonight, no, no, no. No kissing,
no touching, no fondling. Nothing. Nada.

But she was like a human
bag of potato chips. One taste and you couldn’t stop.

Caitlin was standing
right in front of him, looking up, while he was giving himself strict orders to
behave. “Hi.” Her voice was low, almost shy.

“Uh…hi.” Nothing else
would come out. Great. He’d managed to avoid swallowing his tongue, only to
have it stick to the roof of his mouth.
Talk, you idiot!

“You look, uh…” Alex
waved his hand awkwardly. There weren’t words to describe how she looked.
“Nice.”

They stared at each
other in silence for a full ten seconds.

“You look, um, nice
too,” Caitlin finally said, and continued looking at him.

“Miss?”

Caitlin turned her head
and gazed blankly at Hassan.

“The key…miss?”

“Key? I, ah—oh!” Caitlin
handed Hassan the key and turned back to Alex. “Where are we going?” she asked
and smiled at him.

It was her first real,
full-fledged smile. It was a very good thing she hadn’t really smiled before.
Alex watched as two perfect dimples formed around her perfect mouth. Lushly
pink mouth. Deliciously gorgeous mouth. Eminently kissable mouth. He remembered
its taste perfectly.

She shouldn’t smile. It
wasn’t fair, her having this perfect mouth that made him think of diving
straight in.

Think about something
else. Like…like her clothes. That was good.

Not good.

Caitlin’s dress was held
up by little straps over the shoulders—her round, smooth, creamy-shade-of-pale
shoulders. She couldn’t be wearing a bra. The bra straps would show under the
spaghetti straps of the dress. And yet her breasts were full but high. How
could that be if she wasn’t wearing a bra? Did she have on one of those
strapless thingies? Because who had breasts like that? And how come he hadn’t
noticed them before? Alex was a breast man, always had been, always would be.
And these were spectacular on any scale.

In Alex’s experience,
any woman with breasts like that liked to show them off. Caitlin’s had been
lost in layers of clothing, which in his opinion was a real sin. It was like
draping the Mona Lisa with sackcloth.

Alex pulled his mind
back from contemplation of her breasts and realized she’d spoken. She’d said
something about “going”? He seemed to have lost his place in the program.

“Out?” Caitlin looked up
at him doubtfully. “Aren’t we going out to dinner?”

Dinner. He’d asked her
out to dinner.

Get a grip
, Alex told himself.
Now.

It had been way too long
since he’d taken a woman out to dinner. That was it. His moves, once bright and
shiny from frequent and successful use, had turned rusty while he wasn’t
looking. Eyeing a woman’s breasts, trying to figure out if she was wearing a
bra right at the beginning of the evening was
not
a smooth move. He knew
better than that. He knew what he had to do—make eye contact to reassure her
and start acting like an adult, not a horny teenager.

Alex raised his eyes to
hers—and was lost. They were so fucking beautiful. Huge behind the adorable,
scholarly glasses, with lashes so long he wondered how she could keep her eyes
open, and this incredible sky-blue color you could lose yourself in…

Alex gritted his teeth
and vowed that he was going to get his rocks off just as soon as he could.
Maybe he should beat off every night before going to sleep—because the no-sex
zone he’d been living in was messing with his head, big time. Determined to
keep his eyes off her breasts—and her legs and her mouth and her eyes—and to be
a good dinner companion, Alex cupped her elbow, forgetting completely that this
was going to be a no-touching dinner.

He’d cupped her elbow a
couple of times, but she’d had a sweater or a jacket on. This time he was
touching flesh. Delectable flesh…soft, smooth flesh… Alex shook his head again,
trying to concentrate.

He’d planned on taking
her to the Garden of Eatin’, or to a family style Tex-Mex cantina he knew. He’d
planned on feeding her every night, though he’d had to skip last night because
of a meeting. Good Samaritan Alex, that was him.

The thing was, anyone
staying at the Carlton was seriously low on funds and the thought of her
skimping on meals…well. Alex knew deep down in his bones what it was like to go
without, to go hungry. A friend of Ray’s wouldn’t go hungry, not while he could
do anything about it.

So there was this
virtuous plan all set in his head…

First, take her to a
fast-food family style place full of noisy families and no possibility
whatsoever of an intimate conversation, where they’d have a quick bite.

Second, drive her back
to the Carlton.

Third, make sure the
room was secure.

And then fourth—leave,
double-quick.

That and letting her
interview his men went a long, long way toward paying his debt to Ray. And he’d
let Ray know that too.

But then this poised,
elegant beauty had stepped out of the elevator and he’d had to go immediately
to Plan B.

The Garden and the
cantina might be fine for Caitlin Summers, poor grad student, probably used to
an evening meal of Ramen noodles or yogurt, but they would not do at all for
this luscious, elegant young woman.

“Do you like Italian
food?” Alex asked as they neared the car and he opened the passenger door for
her, heroically not watching as her skirt rose inches above her knees as she
got in.

“Italian, mmmm,” she
said softly, looking him full in the face once he was behind the wheel, giving
him another one of those double-whammy smiles. Her eyes were luminous in the
glow of the dashboard. Some womanly scent chock full of pheromones wafted over
from the passenger seat. He clutched the steering wheel hard. “Spaghetti à la
marinara, veal piccata, spumoni…I love Italian.”

“I know a nice place
downtown,” Alex said as he started the engine. “Let’s see if we can keep the
marinara sauce off my trousers.”

“That’s not funny,” she
said primly as he drove off.

* * * * *

It’s a nice place
, Caitlin thought later, with nouvelle
Mediterranean décor and a friendly, casual atmosphere. A collection of olive
oil bottles, filled with what looked like top-quality extra virgin olive oil
with a faint green tint, was ranged across one wall, a tile mural of a lemon
grove on the other. Plants in enormous majolica vases were scattered around,
providing privacy for the diners. Neapolitan rock came from discreet speakers
hidden in the corners. A tiled counter separated the eating area from the
kitchen, the source of mouthwatering smells wafting into the room.

It was warm, welcoming
and unobtrusively, discreetly expensive. Not that in-your-face kind of
expensive, with sober tuxedoed waiters standing around stiffly just waiting for
you to use the wrong fork. Not at all. It was a place to have fun, eat well and
spend a relaxing evening.

The waitstaff was young,
friendly and numerous. The serving plates and stemware were beautiful. The food
was creatively presented. Judging by the satisfied smiles of diners, everyone’s
food was as good as it looked.

The whole place was
intimate and romantic, pleasing to every sense. Caitlin’s heart thrummed to the
luscious beat of the music.

Alex chose a banquette
and sat next to her, instead of across from her, though she noticed with
amusement that he chose seats facing the entrance, with their backs to the
wall—just like a true cop.

Caitlin’s feeling that
the restaurant was expensive was proved correct when she opened the oversized
menu and saw that most of the entrées cost more than she spent on food in a
week.

All her dates had been
as broke as she was. Eating out with a date meant choosing the cheapest
possible restaurant and scrutinizing the menu for the least expensive items.

She smiled to herself.
Well, that part of her life was over. Maybe. With a little bit of luck.

Alex pinned her with his
dark gaze. “You haven’t even eaten yet and you’re already smiling.”

Caitlin thought briefly
of telling him that she’d been awarded the Frederiksson fellowship. But she
hadn’t yet, actually. She only had Sam’s word on it. No, she would tell him if
and when the announcement was made. But in the meantime, she could hug the
prospect of good news to herself and feel uplifted.

“Everything looks so
good,” she said.

“Everything
is
good.” Alex looked up at the server slipping a tray of warm bruschetta in front
of them and nodded his thanks. The server, a pretty, tall, well-built brunette,
grinned. She held the grin for just a second longer than was necessary, stood
just inside his personal space and took a deep breath, showcasing an amazing
set of assets. Her body language was very clear.

Ditch the wishy-washy
blonde, buddy, and I’m yours. Let’s go out back and get it on.

Alex was much too astute
not to catch that, but he handled it well, breaking off eye contact at exactly
the right moment, leaning forward to push Caitlin’s plate closer, eyes
connecting with hers.

The message to the
waitress was clear.
Sorry, not tonight.

The smoothness with
which he did it showed it was an automatic reflex. It was something he’d
probably practiced every day of his life. He was a very handsome man, and she
could tell he’d been a good-looking boy. He’d probably had to fend off
dozens—hundreds!—of advances from women. Some subtle, some not-so-subtle. He’d
perfected the art of the brush-off, and it had probably become so innate he
hardly noticed it anymore.

Being sexually reticent
herself, an observer by nature and training and not a doer, Caitlin had
observed some amazing scenes from sexually adventurous women over the years.
Just last week, she’d been in a bar with another TA drinking a beer when she’d
seen a man walk up to a woman, introduce himself, then offer to buy her a
drink. Within five minutes, the woman was fondling his crotch. Within six, they
were gone.