But if he had issues, he wouldn’t hide them. He’d self-diagnose and dive into treatment, using himself as a test subject.
“Our species was made to experience sexual connections,” she said, shifting the discussion into scientific mode instead of personal, and instantly relaxing. “You know the statistics as well as I do. The odds of a romantic relationship lasting without sex are slim.”
“Alexia, relationships based on sexual heat don’t last. They flare hot and intense, then burn out just as fast.” Edward leaned forward, his words as sincere as the fervent look on his face. “Better to base a relationship on more solid, long-lasting emotions. Like friendship and similar interests. We share the same values, the same goals in life. That matters more than a few paltry orgasms.”
Well, sure. If they were paltry, she could see his point. Who needed that? Alexia thought, dumbfounded.
“We’re scientists who specialize in sexual health,” he continued. “Layering the physical elements into our relationship won’t be an issue. And when we do, it’ll be done in a well-thought-out, practical and measured way. Just as it should be between two intelligent scientists focused on the long term.”
Well…Wasn’t that sexy.
Alexia drained her margarita, the bitter tang of the pomegranate matching the taste on her tongue. Was that how she came across? As the kind of woman who would settle for measured practicality? In bed? There was only one thing she wanted to be measuring in bed.
Edward must have sensed her disquiet, because he shook his head, as if to stop her from saying anything.
“Think about it,” he said, giving her fingers one last squeeze before trading them for his fork again. “In the meantime, don’t worry about us. Get settled in your apartment, enjoy the weekend. Maybe reacquaint yourself with some of your old haunts. That’d be fun, right? Don’t you have a family event this weekend?”
“My father’s retirement party,” she acknowledged with an inward cringe. How fun was that going to be? The only thing that might appeal more was finding a gynecologist with a hook for a hand. Alexia signaled the waiter for another margarita.
“Just let it go for now. Let your subconscious work it through. I’ll wait awhile before I bring it up again.” He looked so sincere, so sweet, that it actively hurt to have to set him straight. But she wasn’t going to change her mind, and the sooner he accepted that, the sooner they could reestablish their friendship on its original terms. Alexia sighed, then, not seeing any choice, opened her mouth to tell him that she’d made up her mind already.
As if reading her intention, he hurried to say, “In the meantime, did I tell you about the latest round of crackpot threats the institute is getting?”
“The bitter women’s brigade is protesting sex again?” she asked, giving in and graciously letting him change the subject. That was part of the art of communication. Read the signals in order to know when to talk and when to let things go until a better time. Between his sidestepping the issue, refusing to listen and stiff-shouldered body language, she might as well give up. For now.
He nodded. “Oh, we hear from the women’s brigade about once a week. But this was a new one. A European gentleman wanted to offer us a grant to study anger and aggression.”
“There have been a number of studies in that area,” Alexia said, smiling her thanks to the waiter as he swapped her empty glass for a full one.
“Not with the focus of using subliminal messaging and brain-wave manipulation to incite anger.”
“Incite? Isn’t five o’clock on the 405 freeway enough to do that?”
After a brow-furrowed second, Edward quirked a smile, then shook his head. “Apparently not. This gentleman offered a huge sum of money. Enough that I was actually tempted, if not for the fact that we’re already so committed to the current project that it’d hurt our reputation to pull out at this point.”
Well, goody for future funding and the need to keep up one’s reputation. She hadn’t signed on for anger management, and didn’t like the idea that Edward and the institute’s focus could be bought. Alexia gripped her fork so tight it left a dent in her fingers, but managed to smother the anger before she made a nasty remark. Dating, friendship and the rest aside, Edward was still her boss. Calling him a greedy weasel was probably a bad idea.
But she’d taken the position at the institute because she wanted to help people. Because she knew the power sexual satisfaction could offer and truly believed that everyone deserved a chance at that kind of pleasure. Not to make money for whoever had the deepest pockets.
Her mind flashed back to hot, sexy and gorgeous on the beach that afternoon. As she let herself focus on the image of his butt, so tight and solid beneath those wet swim trunks, the red edges of anger faded from her vision. Now, that was the kind of guy who inspired fantasies and made a woman very, very aware that she was female. But for women with issues, whether from conditioning or abuse, that delight was out of reach.
Too bad she hadn’t gotten a chance to see if the reality of hot, sexy and gorgeous was as delicious as the fantasy. She could have called it work incentive.
Or just mind-blowingly awesome sex.
AN HOUR AND A HALF later, Alexia paid the cab and stepped onto the shell-encrusted sidewalk in front of JR’s. The club-slash-bar fronted a long stretch of beach, both lit up like carnival attractions.
She wasn’t sure why she was here. She definitely didn’t need another drink. But she didn’t want to go home, either. And the idea of spending any more time with Edward, pretending that everything was peachy keen, was enough to make her scream. She wanted to dance. To relax in a crowd of strangers. And JR’s was the only bar she knew well enough to feel safe. A regular hangout of the navy locals, it wasn’t that it didn’t get rowdy or wild. But it had three major advantages. One, it was a familiar place so she knew what she’d get when she walked through the door. Two, she was there to dance, and if anyone tried to push for more, her get-out-of-trouble-free card, aka the mention of her father’s name, would cut them off at the knee. And three, she’d never get involved with a military man. Ever. She’d had enough of the military growing up to know that a sailor’s first priority was to his very dangerous, often secretive career. And while she respected that, she had no interest in being background noise in someone’s life.
Still, walking into the club was like stepping face-first into chaos. Noise, so loud the music had to be felt instead of heard, pounded through her. Heat from the crowd of bodies swirled with an ambitious air conditioner. Lights flashed, strobed and glowed, depending on which way she turned her head.
Maybe she should have just gone home.
But she’d have gone crazy there, with only her thoughts and guilt for company. Michael was on a date, and three days back wasn’t enough time for her to have made any new friendships. So she was on her own.
And she needed action. Movement. Something to shake off the sexual tension that’d been driving at her all afternoon. Since hunting down the sexy guy from the beach wasn’t an option, she’d figured she’d do the next best thing to release body tension. Dance.
About to head for the flashing lights of the dance floor and kick up the heels of her favorite Manolos, a man at the bar caught her attention.
Blake?
The hot, sexy and
