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387 pages, Kindle Edition
First published May 11, 2016
Graduate school had taught her an important truth about being an intelligent woman, one she hadn’t been able to learn growing up in Princeton: It helped to be stunningly beautiful, especially when dealing with the Zeppelin-like egos of scientific men. The never saw her coming; it was only after she’d outthought them that they realized they’d been flanked.
Even sexual assignations she had with Parsons in a seedy motel room (of all places) were all about dominance, detachment, release of tension.She was a capsule here, serenely making her orbits, while he was the rocket casing, jettisoned to burn up in the long fall back to earth.
There was almost no femininity left in her. That is fine and, I’m sure realistic, but it didn’t work for me as a romance heroine. As far as Eugene Parsons, I felt there was a lot of potential there but his character was underdeveloped. I wanted to know more about why he appeared to be so grouchy all the time, so intense to the point of being intimidating to others, expecting perfection from himself and everybody around him.“It would never be enough. No matter how many papers she authored, no matter how many projects she successfully completely, deadlines she met, or snafus she navigated, all they’d ever be able to see were the breasts.”
“He didn’t think he could have loved her more than just then, when he asked if she could do something that might be impossible---when he asked her for more---and she simply nodded.”
“When Parsons looked at her, he saw her. He recognized her. He didn’t want to alter her to be like anyone else---though he probably wanted her to work harder and better. But he understood her from her brain to her toes.
He liked her. Oh hell.”
“She didn’t think she was perfect, but she thought that together, they might be more than they were apart. Together they might be something like it.”
All she knew was that every moment for nearly two years had led to this. Every staff meeting, every time he’d gestured with his hands, every time he’d asked more of her, and celebrated with her when she’d offered it, it had all been about this.
About what she was feeling ... that she believed him when he said she was perfect.
She didn’t think she was perfect, but she thought that together, they might be more than they were apart.
Together they might be something like it.
Eugene Parsons pulled into the lot of a seedy motel. ...
The powder blue Dodge he was looking for was parked in front of room twelve.
He released the breath he always held until he saw the car. That was his fear: one day he’d show up and the blue car wouldn’t be there. He’d enter the room and it would be empty.
If they weren’t going to fight fairly, she wasn’t either. And their weaknesses were her weapons. She’d had fun, too, once she discovered her body wasn’t merely a liability.
She picked up the report she was supposed to be reading. She set it down. She opened the cover, took her pen in hand…and slammed it back down.
It would never be enough. No matter how many papers she authored, no matter how many projects she successfully completed, deadlines she met, or snafus she navigated, all they’d ever be able to see were the breasts.
“Whenever you’re in the same room, something crackles between you. You’re not looking or touching, but you sort of shift around and talk to each other, even when you aren’t addressing one another at all. It’s like you’re a binary star system, locked in orbit.”
He pursed his lips and exhaled. “You’re bright.”
“Noted.”
“No.” He waved her sarcasm off. “Beyond being smart, which you obviously are, you’re… competent. More so than any man working here. Their dismissal of you was outrageous.”
There was no getting control of her breathing now. She could feel her cheeks heating and sweat blooming on her palms. She didn’t say anything, although she repeated his words over in her head several times. Bright, smart, competent.
In this room all of that energy, all of his observational power, turned squarely on her. His talented hands wanted nothing except to give her pleasure. His smart, crude mouth spilled heated words into her ear. His eyes saw when she hadn’t climaxed, and he didn’t seem to be able to until then. In short, he brought all his intelligence and creativity to bear on her, and it was thrilling.
He stared at her hand stretched across the desk, her fingers reaching for his. To take her hand was the proper thing to do. She was wearing gloves, so it wouldn’t be his bare palm against her bare palm—but he didn’t want to touch her. It was bad enough that the sight of her made his brain scramble and her unflappable confidence made his heart race. What would touching her do to him? But even he couldn’t deny this act of propriety. He reached out and gave her hand the briefest of squeezes. And still his lungs hitched. “Fine,” he said, shorter than he would have liked. “See my secretary about the arrangements.” She said nothing in farewell, and he didn’t bother to look up from the reports on his desk as she left. But the hand with which he’d clasped hers clenched and unclenched on his thigh as the door clicked shut.