Perfecting the Odds (10 page)

She gasped. “Are you
frickin’ kidding me?” She bit her lip to stop herself from telling him how their occupations sounded like the opening to a horrible joke: An English professor and an English teacher walk into a bar…

“No
, ma’am.”

“I hate when people call me ma’am.”

“I know.” Ass. “Even though I favor British Literature, I prefer American-made everything else. I drive a black Ford F150. My favorite color is blue. I don’t care for animals, but love kids.” He shrugged. “I think because I helped raise my sisters after my father died. Yes, there were three females in the house with me at all times, two of which were teenagers for so long, I almost put a bullet through my head.” She couldn’t help but snicker at that one.
“For years all I did was box at a local gym and go to the library. After my father died, I fought all the time, but the other guy left more bruised and bloodied.” His grin was cocky and just plain adorable. And didn’t that just suck. “My favorite food is lasagna. I love beef and fish, but hate chicken.  Summer is my favorite season. I grew up on the shore, so I love the beach, and I used to hate the snow, but now I enjoy it since snowdays rock.” She subdued a smile and continued to stare at him, snared by the boyish charm dancing in those pretty eyes. God, she needed to stop him now, stop each statement that was forming another link in their twisted chain. The burning in her chest was quickly morphing into a fluttering—a strange mingling of attraction and nervousness. Why the hell was she nervous?

“I can be completely juvenile one moment, and too serious the next. I prefer reading to watching television. I love good films, though.
The Godfather, part II is
my number one, and don’t you dare laugh, but
Sleepless in Seattle
is my number two. I prefer boxers over briefs. If I’m being totally honest, I’d rather go commando.” Karis instinctively dropped her eyes to his crotch and flushed when he smirked.  Holy commando. “I hate shopping for me, but love shopping for gifts. I like my coffee strong, and like Hemingway, just enough cream to change the color.” He paused and squinted a look toward the ceiling to ponder more details.

And damn if n
ew tears weren’t lurking behind her eyes. She now knew exactly what he was trying to do, why she was so nervous. He already had control over her body, but now he was hooking his claws into her heart. His idiosyncrasies were bonding with her like the missing piece of a puzzle. He was all but fitting himself into her. A goddamn English professor? Really! Raised his sisters!  Loves buying gifts! And,
of course, we take our coffee the same.
And what man loves the film
Sleepless in Seattle
? Which indubitably is her all- time favorite film. Karis growled,inwardly this time
.

 
His motive blatantly clear, her shattered heart was now beating like it had gotten its second wind. This can’t be happening. Not now, not when she had no idea who
she
really was anymore.

He stroked his thumbs over her palms.
So caring, so intimate...so
not
helping her ability to leave this apartment unscathed. “And, Karis, I’ve thought about you at least once a day every day since you left the bar that night. You’re beautiful--body, mind, and soul. I have never been so
affected
by someone. You were so goddamn honest, so completely open to me, an outsider. I don’t know why you chose to talk to me, but I do know one thing. That type of trust takes years to earn, if ever. And, dammit, I tried to fight what I feel for you. I dated, tried to move on, but I always came back to you. Always.” He stopped, out of breath, before expelling a distressed “
fuck
”.

“Michael, sto—“

He pressed a single finger to her lips. “No, darling, not yet. I’ve waited for this moment, and I’m going to finish.” Her heart skipped a beat. How could there be more? “I know Robert’s death left you angry. I see it every time I look at you, but I, you deserve to take the gamble on this.”

Listening to him talk about her husband brought the brimming tears from her eyes. She should be angry with him for
bringing Robert into the argument, but Karis stood awed by how much of a risk this man was taking for her.

She just wasn’t worth it
.

Her voice wavered with each word
she spoke next. “Michael, I know what you’re trying to do. I admire your persistence, and I’m probably the only woman on Earth who would turn a man like you down, but… you wouldn’t want me once you got to know me. I’m not the woman you think I am. Yes, the whole mask incident pisses me off, but honestly, I can’t give you what you’re asking for. You said it yourself--I’m different now. I’m closed.” A torrent of tears trailed down her face belying her words.

“
Karis, please don’t do this.” He gripped her hands tighter, but she twisted them away. That was the point: this was too much for her. He was too much for her. And at that moment, she came to terms with one distinct realization: he was too good for her.

And that’s what it took to move her feet.

“Don’t, Michael. Please. For your own good, Just. Leave. Me. Alone.”  She turned and then sprinted out the door… away from the man who had just undeniably defined himself as her soul mate.

Being a Marine had its benefits when dealing with emotional pain, especially considering Michael had never really been an emotional guy. And being naturally introverted, he could hide it from the outside world pretty well. But anyone who peered into his eyes long enough would see that Karis’s rejection had cut through that shield of impassivity and arrogance and left his heart split wide open, damn near amputating his ability to see past the wounds weighing on his mind and heart. And all that…

F
ucking blew.

For hours
after Karis left his apartment, his mind ricocheted between images of kissing her, touching her, and searching for the best way to convince her to give them a chance. And two weeks later, he still didn’t have a goddamn answer. If he waged war with her decision, she would battle him with her most lethal weapon, words. And the quick-witted and scarred she-warrior would win, every time. If he tried to get over her, well…that just wouldn’t fucking happen. She was his.
His
.

Michael
wasn’t an idiot. He knew he should have taken that mask off immediately. But like she said, she would have never come with him to his apartment, and at that moment, he just needed her to feel the connection again. However, she made one insinuation that haunted his thoughts above all other words. There was no fucking way she wasn’t good enough for him. Not even close.

Finally,
last night lying in bed, Michael came to two conclusions. One, he would never deserve her. He had deceived her when with her past, she required honesty. And, two… he was absolutely in love with her. All of the pain, regret, and remorse she carried, he felt liked he carried as well.

S
he was indeed angry, but how her body responded to his and her reaction to his words belied that anger. She wanted him, but something out of her control hindered her. So he was left with yet another million dollar question:

H
ow does one
get
a woman who doesn’t want to be gotten?

***

To mask his suffering, Michael threw himself into his current publication, working through nights with little sleep. If he felt any solace, it came when he lectured about Donne’s poetry and meditations. On this particular Thursday, after one of his many Donne lectures, he made the way back to his office when his boss and friend, Jason Lewis, stopped him in the hall outside his next class.

“Professor
Finn, how are you?” They exchanged a handshake.

“Adequate. How are you, Lewis
,” he asked, shifting to accommodate the weight of his briefcase and laptop.

“Doing well. How’s your next criticism coming together?”

“I’m pushing forward. I’m about two thirds complete. I expect to have the first draft completed by January. How’s Diane? The practice?”

“Funny you should mention Diane.”

Shit. Michael knew that look. Jason was on a mission. Coincidentally, he was also a Marine. Once entering civilian life, he, too, followed his dream to study English literature. Although Michael would never admit it aloud, their meeting each other was kismet. After Michael earned his doctorate, he applied for one position—his shot in the dark—and the story goes that as soon as Jason learned of his academic superiority
and
that he was a Marine, there was no arguing with him. Jason deemed him a necessary component in the department and convinced his colleagues to agree. But Jason was adamant in convincing Michael he didn’t earn the position with Marine camaraderie alone; Michael had rightfully earned the position with his intelligence, accolades, and diligence.

“What do you need,
Lewis? No bullshitting.”

Jason laughed
at his candor. “You know how Diane tries to avoid getting too close with her patients, right?” Michael snorted at Jason’s blatant sarcasm. Diane basically made each patient a member of her family. He often wondered how long it would take her to burn out because of the emotional investment alone. “Well, she had a patient a few years ago, Robert Bennett.” Hearing the name sent a visible shudder through Michael’s body, nearly causing him to drop his laptop. Jason furrowed his brow. “You okay, Finn?”

After readjusting his laptop
, Michael managed, “Uh, yeah, Lewis, Just tired. Late nights recently. Go on.”

“
Well, Diane grew quite close to his wife, Karis. Coincidentally, Robert was an Army Master Sergeant before he got cancer. Diane felt drawn to her, the wives of military men connection, as she calls it.” Michael forced a smile. “Long story short, he didn’t tell anyone he felt sick until it was too late. Damn shame. He left a beautiful wife and two kids. Karis and Diane now spend some significant time together. Talking, shopping, but Diane mostly helps with her kids and watches them when Karis needs a break.” Michael stared at him.
What were the fucking odds?
And more importantly, what the hell did it have to do with him? “Anyway, Karis has a career day at her high school and asked Diane if I would come and speak to her seniors. She thought having a Marine slash professor would open their eyes to possibilities and eliminate some of the preconceptions. I planned to attend until I received a last minute invitation to speak at the NCTE convention on the same day.” Jason paused, trying to gauge his facial expression, which Michael hoped looked like a mix of surprise and confusion. “I was hoping you could fill in for me?”

Michael’s mind focused on one fact
: he would see Karis. “Uh, what day is it?” Michael asked his question knowing damn well it didn’t matter.

Jason
cringed. “Tomorrow. I know it’s short notice, but you would be doing us a huge favor. Professor Davis said she’d cover your classes, so you don’t need to worry about finding coverage.”

Besides his desire to see
Karis, Michael had no choice but to accept. Jason was his friend and superior, and his wife was Michael’s doctor. If anything, he would be indebted for the sheer fact that Diane played a role in saving his life. She was only two years out of med school when she walked into Michael’s hospital room to share the second opinion, after he’d already walked out of Dr. Pompous Prickhead’s office.

As soon as Michael had seen
him dressed in a three-piece black Armani suit, he knew whatever news came out of the rich prick’s mouth, would just piss him off. He’d never forget the doctor’s island-sized mahogany desk that screamed, “I’ve treated a shitload of other unlucky bastards and used the money to buy this huge frickin’ desk.”  Or, the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lining the wall behind that desk. Michael bet the asshole hadn’t read half those books. And his voice was the worst—a cross between Donald Duck and Harvey Fierstein. Fucking annoying.

“Our blood test and CT scan confirm the military lab’s results. I also know that you have a family history of cancer. I want you to know that there’s no study that confirms that the cancer gene is necessarily genetic, especially since you and your father have entirely different types. Mr. Finn, are you listening,” Dr. Pavik asked, tilting his head in such a condescending way, Michael had to white-knuckle the leather arm rest before he slammed his fist in the fucker’s face.

Oh, Michael heard him alright.
Had
, asshole. His father had cancer. And it killed him,
so pardon me, Dr. Pavik, if I don’t take solace in your extraneous excerpts from The New England Journal of Medicine
.  The fact of the matter was no man should have to hear this news and certainly not while his comrade and best friend sat next to him. But as much as Michael didn’t entirely believe the doctor’s words, he couldn’t utter that bitter retort either. He was fucking tired. Exhausted really. And he swore it was just because of the damn deployments, doing something he wasn’t passionate about.

He
had shut his eyes, trying desperately to block out the asshole vomiting bullshit all over him.