“I saw that one too. I loved it. So did my roommate because she’s run five marathons.”
“That’s impressive. And I like late-night talk shows. I like politics, so I especially enjoy political humor and the late-night guys are the best.”
“What about movies? What are your favorite movies?”
“Well just in case the guys committee is listening I’ll tell you The Fast and The Furious. Or The Hangover.” Then he lowered his voice and whispered. “But I’ll admit to you, only you, that it’s actually Casablanca.”
Pinch me now, I thought. Wake me up from this dream. Because right then, I closed my eyes and watched that perfect film unfurl in front of me, a romance that left you breathless no matter how many times you’d seen it. I could feel myself sinking into that heady state, like I was under a spell, transfixed, and I could touch the scenes, feel every sensation the characters felt zip through me. They’d always have Paris.
I felt wobbly, and I swayed toward him. He caught me, and wrapped his arms around me, tucking me close to him. He pressed his chin against my head. “Kat.”
I melted into him, savoring the feel of his chest, even under his sweaty tee-shirt, against me. Here with him, I didn’t have a care in the world. Even though being with him was the riskiest thing in the world. I closed my eyes and flashed back to my parents, to the store, to my plans. Then to Professor Oliver, and his wife, and my business. Everything else was so much more important than a mere feeling. I knew that. I really did. But yet, I didn’t want anything more in my life right now than this moment, this closeness, this man.
“I’m dying to kiss you. I want to take you out to dinner, and walk around the city, and talk about anything and everything.”
I could barely feel myself anymore. My whole body was edgy, floating. This couldn’t be happening. But it was. I felt light-headed, like I’d just taken a painkiller and gotten that warm flush where it kicks in and spreads throughout your chest and belly. The little hairs on my arms were standing on end.
“But I can’t,” he said.
“Why?”
“I can’t risk it. The Wilco thing…”
“But she was a high school student. Wasn’t she seventeen?”
“Yeah, but still. He’s hunting out dirt. He’s hunting out anything right now.”
“I’m twenty-three. I’m not an intern. I’m just a…”
“A protege. At a school where we endowed the new wing of the library. It’s too close. No one has said anything to me, but this is my choice. This is how I have to be. I have to be above reproach. I don’t want anything to look bad for Made Here, and I don’t want anything to look bad for the school. That’s why I couldn’t even email you anymore. I can’t have a trace of impropriety.”
I half wanted to add that I had to be a good girl too, but what was the point? I didn’t need to dole out my stakes as well. There needn’t be any one upsmanship.
I nodded into his chest. I didn’t like these rules, but I understood them.
He placed a hand under my chin and lifted my face so I was looking at him. His lips were so close to me. “But maybe I can call you?”
“Of course.”
“Can I call you tonight?”
I was a pinball machine, buzzing and humming, saying yes, yes, yes. Then I remembered the name of the vendor.
“I would love that. And, you may want to try Geeking Out in the Red Hook neighborhood of Brooklyn. Great guys, and super speedy with parts.”
He shook his head appreciatively. “Do you have any idea how hot it is that you are so damn business savvy?”
“No. Are we talking broiling, boiling, or scorching?”
“Smoking.” Then he pulled me against him for a moment, and I could tell exactly how hot I’d made him.
We left the theater a few minutes later, and when we turned the corner Bryan bumped into a balding man wearing a pinstriped suit that reeked of old money.
“Hello, Mr. Caldwell,” Bryan said. I noticed this was the first time Bryan had addressed someone by the honorific Mr.
Mr. Caldwell gave him a strange look. “Seeing a movie?”
I tensed, and Bryan straightened his spine too. Crap. This was exactly what he was trying to avoid.
“Actually, I just finished a run, and bumped into Kat outside the theater. Kat, this is James Caldwell, who’s on our board.” His eyes widened as he said the last few words, but he didn’t need to worry – I got it.
I shook hands with James Caldwell and assumed a most proper and poised look, as I said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
“Mr. Caldwell, Kat is working with Made Here through NYU this semester.”
Caldwell raised a thick gray eyebrow. “NYU?”
“She’s in the graduate business school,” Bryan added quickly.
What? Did I look seventeen like the intern?
Caldwell nodded. “Glad to hear this is all business.”
Seventeen or twenty-three, the message was clear. There was to be no hanky-panky.
Chapter Twelve
My phone was mocking me. It was sneering, as I carried it around like a lifeline leashed to me, a hard brick reminder that I was waiting for a call. I curled deeper into the dented corner of the mustard-colored couch, laptop on my thighs as I worked. Jill and I were mirror images, as she sat cross-legged on the other end, tapping away on her computer too. Her hair was twisted up in a red chopstick and a few dark blond strands framed her face. “Do you have any idea how many technical white papers I authored today on nuclear fusion?”