Untrue Love Page 13

“Do you like this one?” she murmured, steering him over to a dark canvas, dominated with broad swaths of black and blue, interrupted at the margins with splashes of red and yellow.

  “Not really,” he chuckled.

  She glanced at him, amused. “Not your style?”

  He gave it a closer look. “I’m old-school. I like art that looks like things. And I like artists who have spent many years honing their skills. This looks like a crime scene.”

  She appraised the canvas. “No one really aspires to representational art anymore. And I think you’re wrong about the artist not honing his craft. He’s just aiming for a different target than the one you’re thinking of.”

  “It looks like he aimed for the canvas with a paint gun, and missed more often than not.”

  “It doesn’t make you feel anything? No emotion or passion?”

  He shrugged. “I’m passionate about other things, I guess.”

  Karen blushed at that and turned away from the canvas. She wasn’t ready to talk about his passions yet, even if those passions turned out to be sports and beer. There were so many things that she didn’t feel ready for.

  Still holding his hand, she steered him away from the canvas and down along the gallery aisles. She wasn’t ready for more, but she was enjoying what the two of them had together. She set her mind to the task of enjoying it.

  43

  THE STUDENT, KATIE, was getting nervous. Ellie gave her a blank stare and let her sit in a pool of insecurity for a long moment.

  “I’m not saying that it’s an impossible topic for a term paper,” she said finally. “But you’re putting yourself in a difficult position.”

  The student’s brown eyes flashed defiantly. “It’s the truth,” she protested.

  Ellie suppressed a smile. She liked the girl’s passion. An underclassman’s self-assurance could truly be a wonder to behold. “OK,” she allowed. “If you’re certain, you have my permission to write your paper on how Lady Gaga is the most important author of our time. But you’re going to need to convince me, because I don’t mind telling you that I’m pretty skeptical.”

  Katie slipped her notebook back into her backpack and stood to leave. “This will be easy,” she said. “Once you see her lyrics, you’ll understand.”

  “I look forward to it,” Ellie said. It was the truth—she really was looking forward to the paper. Either it would be an impressive argument or it would be an entertaining failure. Ellie planned to have a bottle of wine at the ready when it came time to grade it.

  As Katie left Ellie caught sight of something in the doorway that made her stomach lurch.

  “Do you have a moment?” Paul asked, waiting for her permission before he entered her office.

  Silently she inclined her head to the now-empty chair, and Paul slipped into it with a sigh. “I know these are your office hours, and I’ll be out of here in a moment. I just wanted to come by and say how sorry I am for the other night.”

  “You’re sorry?” Ellie asked, surprised.

  Paul nodded gravely. “Very sorry. I took advantage of circumstances and put you in an impossible situation. If we were just two adults having a drink together, that would be one thing, but we both know that we’re not. Your professional aspirations depend on me. I kissed you. That created a scenario in which you might think that I have expectations of you in return for my support. And for even giving the impression that I was suggesting such a thing, I am very sorry. I apologize.”

  “I see,” Ellie said carefully. Her mind was racing to calculate the implications of his apology—was it good news for her or bad? She really had no idea.

  “I think it would be best if we were to put what happened out of our minds. Just agree it didn’t happen, and go forward as friends.”

  “I agree,” Ellie said, relieved.

  “And I also want you to know that I am prepared to consider your proposal for an academic conference. I still have questions, but provided you’re able to answer them you can count on my full support.”

  “Wow,” Ellie said, her eyes wide. “Is this because of the kiss?”

  “Does it matter?” Paul asked.

  “A little.”

  He gave her a half-smile. “All right. The honest answer is yes. The truth is that the only way I can think of to prove that I wasn’t hoping to trade sex for my support of your project is for me to give you my support in exchange for nothing. So yes, I am offering you my support because of the kiss.”

  Ellie considered him. “That’s good news, and it also pisses me off a little bit.”

  “Why are you angry?”

  “Because you didn’t give me a chance to convince you! It’s actually a good idea. And now maybe I’ll get what I want but only because you find me attractive. That makes us both look bad.”

  Paul nodded soberly. “I know. You’re right. I’ve spent the entire day trying to think of a way of making this better, but I came up empty. This isn’t good, but it’s better than nothing, so that’s what I can offer.”

  Ellie considered. “You said you still have reservations, though. Questions.”

  “I do.”

  “Then here’s my counter-proposal: you will give me your full attention, and you will listen to my answers to your questions, and then you will respect my intelligence highly enough to give me an honest answer, yes or no.”

  He stared at her impassively, then took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You’re right. I can see that I’ve managed to insult you a second time, which is ironic since I actually have a high opinion of you. So yes, I will challenge you with my questions, and I look forward to hearing your answers.”

  He stood to leave. “Would you like to set up the meeting now?”

  “I’ll call your secretary,” Ellie said, not getting up.

  He nodded. “I’ll see you then,” he said, heading to the door. On his way out, he paused and looked back at her. “I hope this hasn’t spoiled things between us, Ellie. I value your friendship.”

  She gave him a compassionate smile. “We were both there, Paul. We share the blame for what happened. I don’t think any less of you, and I look forward to working with you.”

  He transfixed her with his piercing gray eyes, then he nodded curtly and disappeared through the door. Behind him stood a painfully awkward student named Jeremy.

  Ellie sighed. “Come in, Jeremy,” she called. Mentally she added: And try not to trip over your own feet on the way in.

  44

  THE CAT WAS in Donna’s lap, and the two of them were getting a little too engrossed in each other’s company. The young TA was scratching Madeline beneath the chin, and the cat was purring loudly. Ellie watched them silently until her patience ran out.

  “We’re not done, Donna.”

  The girl looked up and audibly sighed. “I know. I just don’t know how to do it.”

  “Sure you do. Everyone knows how to flirt.”

  The girl visibly cringed at the sound of the word. “I don’t flirt,” she said flatly.

  “There’s a big difference between not flirting and not knowing how to flirt,” she said sweetly. “Just because you’ve chosen not to do it in the past doesn’t mean you can’t do it now.”

  Donna looked despondent and cuddled with the cat for emotional support. “It just doesn’t feel like me. I’m not someone who flirts with guys!”

  Ellie kept her voice calm and patient. “You haven’t been. But now you have a boy who’s interested in you. So what’s the harm in having some fun?”

  “It doesn’t seem very fun.”

  “And that’s why you don’t like it, because you haven’t been thinking about it the right way. Listen, flirting isn’t about manipulating men, and it isn’t about seducing them. It’s about being playful. Teasing them, encouraging them, joking with them. When you’re having fun, the men around you have fun, and everyone lightens up and has a good time. That’s what flirting should be, and that’s what I’m going to teach you how to do.”

  D
onna wrinkled her nose, but Ellie pressed onwards.

  “We’re going to do a little visualization exercise. Close your eyes.”

  Donna obediently closed her eyes, though she continued to clutch the cat protectively.

  “You’re in the library,” Ellie continued in a soothing voice. “You’re seated at a desk. Before you is a book and some paper you’re using to take notes.”

  “Paper?” Donna asked.

  “Yes. Why? You don’t like paper?”

  “I take notes on my laptop. That way I don’t have to re-type them later.”

  “Fine,” Ellie sighed. “Before you on the library desk you can see an open book and your laptop. To your left something catches your eye. You look up. A man is approaching you. It’s the guy who’s been showing interest in you. Can you see him?”

  Donna nodded.

  “He’s smiling at you. He pulls up a chair and sits beside you. He’s saying something, but I can’t quite make it out. What is he saying?”

  “He’s saying that he’s glad he ran into me.”

  “Good,” Ellie said approvingly. “What do you say to him?”

  Donna opened her eyes. “I have to say something?”

  “Yes! Of course. Now close your eyes. He’s sitting in front of you with a smile on his face. What do you say to him?”

  “Ummm,” Donna began uncertainly. “I guess I say I’m glad to see him, too?”

  “All right,” Ellie allowed. “But put it in sentence form. Speak as if he’s right in front of you now.”

  “I’m glad to see you.”

  “Good. He moves his chair a little closer so that you can talk more intimately, without the librarian telling you to be quiet. What do you say to him?”

  Donna paused, clearly searching for the right answer. “Maybe I ask him about how his roommate is doing?”

  Ellie shook her head. “No. You do not immediately transfer the attention to some other guy who’s not even present. This is about you and him. So try again. He’s sitting close, looking in your eyes with a smile on his face. What do you say?”

  “Do I tell him that I like his shirt?”

  “I don’t know, do you? Say it. He’s right in front of you now. He’s so close you can smell his cologne.”

  “He doesn’t wear cologne.”

  “Say it!”

  “I like your shirt.”

  “He thanks you. He says that he dreamed about you last night. What do you say?”

  Donna opened her eyes again. “He dreamed about me? That’s a little weird.”

  “No it isn’t,” Ellie insisted. “It’s fun and it’s playful and you send it right back to him, only make it even more fun and playful. What do you say?”

  Donna sighed and closed her eyes. “I ask him if this means I’m the girl of his dreams.”

  “Good! Very good.” Ellie smiled, pleasantly surprised. “His smile deepened when you said that. He says that he’s glad you’re in his dreams now. His dreams are worth sharing, and he wants to share them with you.”

  Donna took in deep, somewhat unsteady breath. “Whoo,” she said, letting it out. “I say that maybe we shouldn’t be having this conversation in the library.”

  “Why not?” Ellie asked, disappointed.

  Donna opened her eyes. “It’s getting a little serious, isn’t it? He says he wants to share his dreams with me. That sounds serious.”

  “That’s the thing about flirting. You’re playing right on the edge of saying big, meaningful things, but there’s always a teasing element. You’re playing with the idea of romance and hot, sweaty lovemaking with this man, but the art is in implying it, and not coming right out and saying it.”

  “This is hard,” Donna protested.

  Ellie smiled. “It gets easier with practice. And that’s what you need to do now. This boy has given you an excellent opportunity to practice these things, and you will not waste it. Right?”

  Donna sat silently, stroking the cat.

  “Right?” Ellie asked insistently.

  “Right,” Donna allowed, not sounding happy. Madeline was quite content, though, and put her head down for a nap.

  45

  DONNA WAS FINALLY making her escape from Ellie’s apartment and had just swung the door open when she stopped with a surprised squeak. Just on the other side of the door, with his hand raised to knock, was a debonair older man wearing a suit that looked like it cost more than Ellie payed for rent in a year.

  “Philip!” she said, surprised.

  Philip Baptiste stepped to the side to allow Donna to squeeze past, then turned a gentle smile back on Ellie. “I hope I’m not disturbing anything.”

  “No, not at all. Would you like to come in?”

  “Just for a moment,” he said, and glided gracefully into her apartment. On the air as he walked past Ellie caught a tantalizing hint of understated cologne. She smiled in approval. Philip looked, acted, and even smelled the way a man should.

  “Can I get you anything?” she asked, trailing him into the living room.

  “If you have sparkling water, that would be perfect” he answered.

  She grinned, embarrassed. “I have tap water, and I also have half a bottle of red wine.”

  He smiled in a way that felt intimate even though several feet separated them in the apartment. “No thank you, then, but I do appreciate your hospitality. I was hoping we could talk about your project.”

  “Absolutely. Let’s talk. What can I tell you?”

  “You can tell me whether you’re free for dinner on Friday.”

  Ellie quirked her head. “I’m not sure I understand.”

  He took a step toward her. She was surprised how tall he was. She hadn’t remembered him to have such an air of command, but now he seemed to fill the room. She felt that, if he wanted to, he could reach out and take her into the palm of his hand, as if he was scooping up a songbird with an injured wing.

  “I didn’t come here tonight to talk about your project, though I understand why you might have thought that. No, I want to set up a time when we can have dinner together and discuss it at length. We’ll talk about your conference, and about other things.”

  Ellie’s heart was beating a little more heavily than it was in the previous moment, and she found herself short of breath. “Which other things, exactly?” she managed to ask.

  “I’d like to talk about you. I want to learn more about you, Ellie. I find you intriguing.”

  She tried to regain control of the situation by making a joke. “I am a woman of intrigue, after all.”

  He took another step toward her. He was almost close enough now to reach out and touch her. She couldn’t decide whether she wanted him to or not.

  “You are a brilliant, beautiful, fascinating woman. I have no doubt that you are destined for great things. Is it wrong of me to want to be part of that?”

  Ellie didn’t know what to do with her hands. Awkwardly she shoved them inside the pockets of her jeans. “Thank you,” she said when nothing else came to mind.

  “So are you free for dinner?” he murmured.

  “I can’t,” she said, finally remembering Jackson. Inwardly she kicked herself for being such a bad girlfriend, and vowed to make a start on doing better. “I’m sorry, Philip. I’m really flattered, but I want to keep things on a professional basis between us. Do you understand?”

  “Of course I do,” he said. “And I respect you all the more for making that clear and standing up for what you want. Still, we do need to discuss your plans more fully. Can I count on you to call my secretary and set up a time?”

  She nodded. “Yes. I’ll do that.”

  He smiled at her again. “Then I’ll take my leave. Good night, Ellie,” he said, then walked to the door and let himself out.

  She stood rooted to the spot where she was standing, her heart still pounding and her breath a little shallow. In her mind she replayed what had just happened, and wondered: Was she relieved that nothing more had happened, or was it dis
appointment that she was feeling? Somewhere deep in her mind a part of her played out a hypothetical scenario in which she, Ellie Stanton, was now married to international financier Philip Baptiste. She pictured herself on his yacht (for he must certainly have a yacht) and traveling through Europe wrapped in furs.

  Amused, she laughed to herself. It was a fun little fantasy, but of course it would never happen. To which that inner part of herself replied: Why the hell not?

  46

  THE OFFICE WAS dark and the shades were drawn, in case someone might be watching from the street. Paul leaned back in his chair and gazed without pleasure at the visitor to his office.

  “Things are going according to plan,” he said.

  “I’m not sure they are,” the other man growled. He was older and paunchy, and he sat in his chair with the look of discomfort that perpetually graced his face. His cheeks were red as if from exertion, but Paul knew the man rarely if ever exercised.

  “You’re behind schedule.”

  “This sort of thing takes as long as it takes. You know that.”

  “I know that you’re taking your sweet time. I also know that you’re running unacceptable risks.”

  Paul grimaced. “It’s funny that you would speak to me of risk, when we both know that the mere fact of you being here puts the entire operation at jeopardy. You might have already blown everything just by parking your car outside.”

  The older man waved his concerns away. “That’s not the risk we need to concern ourselves with. I’m talking about the woman.”

  At first Paul didn’t comprehend his meaning, then his face lit with understanding. “Oh, you mean Professor Stanton.”

  “You should have told her to take a hike.”

  “I haven’t agreed to her plan.”

  “You need to disagree. Loudly, and finally, so that she’ll get the message.”

  Paul rubbed his eyes. “Is that really necessary? Why should we even care whether or not she gets what she wants? It’s irrelevant.”

  “It is relevant! I need you to focus. You have only one objective in this scenario. Remember that.”

  Paul sighed. “I do remember.”