Calculated Exposure (11 page)

“Maybe I should borrow them. Or get a puppy. Women like babies and puppies.”

Curt rolled his eyes. He didn’t think either of those things would make the guy any more approachable. He just had that
I can hurt you without even trying
vibe. At least he’d stopped shaving his head. When he was bald, he’d looked downright sociopathic, especially when he started swearing in Russian.

“When can I meet her? You know, I never formally met Carla before she and Grant got married. Some friend.”

“It’s just a tryst, man.” Probably one he’d never forget, but still.

“Does she have a friend?”

“I can find out. She’s Cuban, by the way. I know you Russians and Cubans go way back. Cold War buddies.”

Seth wriggled his brows and got out as soon as Curt pulled up his parking brake.

While Seth changed out of his “good” clothes, Curt slid in front of his computer and quickly sorted through his glut of emails. The ones from students, he flagged to assess and respond to later. Solicitations were quickly punted into the trash folder. He paused briefly to read, then re-read, a message from Grant which stated he may have had a shot at a position in US due to a certain faculty member’s untimely demise. He would be flying in.

Pick me up from the airport
? he’d asked.

That one Curt responded to in the affirmative. The last message, he stared out for a long while and took no action.

“Hey, rubio. What are you doing tonight?”

His finger hovered over the
delete
key briefly, but he paused a moment to let the implied invitation sink in. Rather than responding, he moved on to the press messages and replied to each with a pre-written copy and paste statement.

It’d been a week. A week should have been long enough for the reporters to hang back, find someone else to shine a spotlight on, but they were getting increasingly curious about the quiet mathematician. With every arrest of a policeman, businessman, or politician involved in the crime, the interest in the woman who’d turned the town on its ear spiked. At least the news coverage hadn’t extended to the US yet.

Before shutting down his computer, he revisited the message he’d ignored.

“
Probably going to get drunk off my ass with Seth.
”

Curt was about to click the send button, but thought better of it. Grown-ups used tact and that was a lesson he was trying to master. It was part of his de-assholeing treatment. He deleted and tried again.

“
Don’t know. Have decisions to make. Will probably relax.
”

He figured that was gentle enough. But since when did he care about gentle?

She must have been in front of her computer because she instantly responded.

“
You could come relax
here
. I’ll make it worth the drive.
”

That made him pick up his phone.

“
Yes
?” she answered in a sultry purr.

“What does that mean? Are you feeding me or screwing my brains out? Either way sounds like a good deal.”

At that moment, Seth leaned into the doorway wearing his favorite blue-and-yellow plaid shirt and a pair of brown cargo shorts.

Curt cringed.

“I can feed you,” she said, “but it won’t be anything special. I had to run out to cover some breaking news. I’m on scene now, actually. Waiting for a press conference to start.”

“So, sex, then.”

She laughed. “If you’d like.”

“I
would
like. That goes without saying.”

“See you when you get here, then. Bye,
rubio
.”

“When are you leaving?” Seth asked.

Curt pushed back and stretched his arms overhead with a yawn. “Soon.”

Seth grunted, rubbing the stubble on his jaw with eyes narrowed. “Same woman twice?”

“Yes.”

“When’s the wedding?”

“Funny. It’s purely physical.”

“You could get physical closer to home. You usually stagger them so you don’t see the same one two dates in a row.”

Curt’s response to that was a stare.

“Just sayin’. What is it about this one? Tits?”

“Don’t know. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t come off as needy. I’m tired of needy.”

“Do you want a woman or a cat? Sounds like you want a cat.”

“I don’t want
either
.”

“Right. You’re stupid. If I could find just one woman to…” Seth walked away, mumbling.

“Whatever.” Curt dropped to his knees and dragged his duffle bag from under the bed. Two dates in a row did not constitute a relationship or even the budding of one. Maybe if the stars aligned the right way, he’d think about settling down sometime around thirty-five. Have a kid or two before he got too long in the tooth and waking up in the mornings got too hard.

Unzipping the bag, he froze and did the math. And it was
easy
math. Thirty-five wasn’t all that far away. How the hell did
that
happen?

* * * *

Erica hurried home from a mind-numbingly dull event and scoured her freezer only to find nothing particularly interesting. After staring at the options for two minutes and damn near defrosting the compartment, she shrugged and wriggled a frozen veggie pizza from under a couple of Lean Cuisines. She tarted it up with chorizo she found in her refrigerator meat drawer and slid the concoction into the preheated oven as she heeled off her shoes and socks.

Curt knocked on the door right as she stepped out of the shower.

She opened the door a crack and said, “I’m still dressing.”

He smirked. “You want me to wait here and pretend I haven’t seen you naked, or…”

“Damn it.” He had a point. She opened the door and waved him in. After securing the deadbolt, she scurried to her bedroom. “Don’t let that pizza burn,” she called back.

“Don’t bother dressing on my account,” Curt said. “You naked is why I’m here, remember?”

She laughed. Well, she
had
made that promise, but dinner was a higher priority. Her stomach felt inside out from hunger. When she’d been called out to take photos of an arson scene, she hadn’t expected to be there all day waiting on the fire marshal’s statement.

She dressed quickly and casually and dashed to the kitchen. “I hope you don’t mind.” She slipped a pizza peel into the oven and removed the slightly-charred pie. “I need to upload some images from today. I’ll be really quick.”

“Go for it. Maybe I’ll go and see if that damned game show is on again. Still don’t get it. I hate that feeling.”

“You sure? That’s alright? You can watch in here if you want. Tuck into the pizza.”

“You got it. We got all weekend to play.”

Erica felt her cheeks flush as he walked away. “All weekend?”

“Mm-hmm. Brought a change of clothes and my laptop. If you’re going to help me relax, I plan on making the most of it.”

“Suddenly, helping you relax is sounding like a lot of work for me.”

“Scared?”

“Of you? No way. Last night was just an appetizer.”

Slow down, girl. You’re gonna have to walk that talk.

He winked at her over his pizza slice as she connected her work camera to her computer. It took all the self-restraint she had not to pounce on him to lick that bit of sauce from the corner of his mouth. Somehow, she managed to activate her tunnel vision and file her shots.

Her stomach gurgled a reminder she’d been ignoring it, right as she quit her editing software. Before she could shut her system down, a message from Tate pinged in.

She rolled her eyes and maximized the e-mail program.

Hey, I’ve got you slated to cover the NASCAR event tomorrow. I know how much you hate shooting sports, but the stringer who lives out there caught Strep. Check-in’s at two. Let me know if there are any problems.

She gave the monitor the finger and clicked the reply button.

I’m not on the schedule for tomorrow. I’ve never worked Sundays. I’ve got plans. Sorry
.

She clicked send and stood, not really giving two shits what Tate’s response would be. He wouldn’t fire her. She realized that now.

“Curt, do you like plantains?”

He looked over at her and crossed his legs in the other direction from where they had been. “Never had ’em. Grew up on the typical Irish staples. When left to my own devices, I eat cereal.”

Oh, I’m going to have so much fun with him
.

She’d never cooked for Tate. Never wanted to. The way she saw it, he was getting enough of her even without her slaving over a hot stove.

The computer she forgot to turn off pinged yet again. Her stomach growled louder. “Fuck.”

What sort of plans?

Her inclination was
not
to answer. It was none of Tate’s goddamned business what she was doing on her days off, not that she had many of those with the staffing cutbacks at the paper. Most of the photographers the paper used were stringers or freelancers working specific events. She was one of only two full-time photographers for the mid-sized paper and knew when she left, she probably wouldn’t be replaced. Tate would have to take up the slack.

Actually, Tate doing some work sounded like a great idea. He’d leave her in peace for the weekend.

Again, I’m sorry. I have an out-of-town guest. I hope you can find a substitute
.

Leaving the machine on, she managed to get three bites of pizza into her gut and had started tracking toward a bored-looking Curt when that goddamned computer dinged again.

“Curt, I’m sorry. Just–”

Curt put up his hands. “All weekend, darlin’.”

She snapped her fingers and pointed at him. “Right.”

Tate’s response:

Maria-Elena can tag along. That’s not a problem
.

Erica growled and just barely suppressed the temptation to thrash her face against her wireless keyboard. She clicked
reply
one more time to input a terse, and hopefully final, response.

Not Maria-Elena. Not someone who can tag along. Perhaps give Dot Sheehan a buzz. She lives near the track and is open to contract work.

She clicked send and turned off the damned computer. Not that her non-response would actually deter him. If he got desperate, he’d drive up to see what she was up to.

Controlling jerk.

Curt made some space for her on the sofa inside the V of his legs, so she sank against him and fidgeted with the crust of her pizza.

The two of them together felt right.
Good
. It pained her that he was so aloof, but then she remembered she was pretending to be the same way. She needed to come clean, and soon, or he was going to wander away with her hating herself for not laying it all on the line when she had the chance.

She rolled over and tapped his chest. “Hey.”

“Hmm?”

“Do you plan on staying in the US?”

“Why, you want to have me deported?” He grinned as he twirled a swath of her hair around his index finger.

“Ha ha. I’m just curious what your plans are. I mean, most students don’t come to the US thinking they’ll stay here, do they? Ireland’s not exactly the kind of place a person would run away from.”

Curt sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling. “I can’t speak for all of them, but Grant wanted to stay. He’s trying to come back right now. My leanings are toward staying. I think Seth would have to be dragged back to Russia in handcuffs, so I hope he finds a job here soon since he’s no longer categorized as a student. His visa situation is tenuous right now.”

“I bet. I managed to sneak in under the wet foot, dry foot rule. It’s a wonder we got our entire family here.”
Minus one
.

He met her gaze again and added a second hand to his study of her hair. “And is America what you thought it’d be, darlin’?”

“I don’t know what I thought America would be. I was a little kid when we came. I didn’t know shit. Didn’t understand what was happening.”

“Would you go back?”

“Hell, no. There’s enough Cuba in Raleigh and Miami to keep me sated.”
Enough about me.
He’s going to get bored.
“Hey, you want to go for a walk?”

“How far a walk?”

“Oh, about twenty feet.” She tipped her head toward the bedroom door.

“Sure. That’s the kind of exercise I can get behind.”

They both started to sit up, and she had managed to put her feet on the floor right as her cell phone rang. She froze, staring at the wall behind the sofa while it rang. Psychic she was not, but her gut was pretty good. Her gut said,
Tate
.

“Are you going to answer that?” Curt wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled his face into her hair. He loved her hair. She loved that he loved something about her. She wasn’t hard to thrill, and letting him play with her hair, and other things, would be a lot more fun than listening to Tate’s blathering.

“No, I’m not.” She led him into the bedroom by the hand, savoring the way he squeezed her fingers with such tenderness as their feet swished across the carpet. She knew it was just anticipation on his part. Had they been out in public, he probably wouldn’t be so hands-on. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who did PDA.

Once in the bedroom, she swiveled the blinds closed and drew the curtains together so the room was nearly pitch black.

“Hey, I kind of want to see you.” He pressed lips against her neck and licked a scorching hot trail down to her collarbone.

She giggled as his mouth grazed over a ticklish spot at the bend of her neck. “I don’t know, I think it’s sexier in the dark. You can’t anticipate everything.”
And you can’t see the faces I’m making.
She started pushing his buttons through their holes as his hands trailed down the sides of her arms.

She helped him remove his shirt and trailed her fingers to his jeans’ button. Her hands were in his shorts before he could reciprocate.