The relationship between Jason Morris and Susan Landers was easy to describe: He adored her, and she didn't know he existed. They'd been going along this way for some time now, and both were quite content with the status quo. At least, Jason was, and he assumed the same was true for Susan. She certainly looked happy enough every time he saw her.
"You know, this fascination you have with that woman comes dangerously close to obsession," his best friend Randy Brady murmured one Friday evening as he watched Jason watch Susan.
Unoffended, Jason stretched his long legs in front of him and lounged against the back of his favorite easy chair. He spoke without taking his gaze from the television screen. "I'm an eccentric inventor. We're supposed to be obsessive."
"That's true, of course. But dropping everything to watch the six o'clock news every evening just to see Susan Landers reporting it well, you don't think that's just a little strange?"
Jason looked away from the commercial now blaring from the big-screen TV in his home media room. "What makes you think I'm not genuinely interested in the news?"
"Oh, please. You couldn't care less what's happening in the real world outside this fortress of yours. And if you were, there are a couple dozen other channels you could watch for your daily updates."
"Granted. But none of those other channels have Susan Landers."
Randy chuckled. "You are such a geek."
"Maybe. But I'm about to make you a very wealthy man."
"And that," Randy assured him, "is why I like you so much."
Because he didn't believe for a minute that his longtime buddy stayed around for financial reasons, Jason only smiled and looked back at the screen, where Susan Landers was now talking about a promising development in AIDS research. Damn, but she was pretty, he thought, admiring the way her big brown eyes glittered in the bright lights of the news set. Her black hair was expertly cut so that it fell with apparent carelessness to frame her perfectly oval face. Her nose was short and straight, her cheekbones delicately defined, her full, soft mouth a work of art. Her chin was firm enough to indicate a stubborn, tenacious personality, but the shallow dent in the center softened it just enough to be endearing.
As much as he admired her competence as a reporter, he had to admit it was mostly the way she looked that kept him tuning in every evening. Maybe that made him shallow but he suspected it just made him male. Just because he had an off-the-chart IQ, a half-dozen advanced degrees, and a knack for inventing things that were often referred to as "revolutionary," it didn't mean he wasn't a normal, red-blooded 33-year-old guy.
His equally red-blooded investor and friend since junior high sighed and pushed himself to his feet. "I'll leave you and Susan alone now. I'm starting to feel like a fifth wheel."
"No need to leave yet," Jason murmured, watching as Susan reached up to brush a strand of hair away from her face. "Stay until the news is over and we'll order a pizza or something."
Randy snorted. "Unlike you, I have a hankering for flesh-and-blood women who actually know my name in return. I have a date tonight with a prime example of such a woman. Her name is Tiffany she's bright, beautiful, and very available. She probably has some equally interesting single friends, if you want me to set something up for next weekend."
"Thanks, but not right now. I'm too busy for the hassle of a blind date."
"So when's the last time you had any kind of date, hmm?"
He tried to remember. "A few weeks ago. New Year's Eve, I think."
"Yo, Jason. It's April, dude. New Year's Eve was four months ago."
Had it really been so long? Jason shook his head. Time had a way of slipping past him when he was immersed in an exciting project. That probably explained why he'd been having some very disturbing dreams lately. He was half-embarrassed to admit, even to himself, that Susan Landers had featured rather prominently in several of those dreams. As far as he was concerned, she was the perfect woman pretty, interesting, and in no danger of interfering with the haphazard schedules and unpredictable work hours he preferred to keep. Unlike other women who'd come into his life so sweetly and so eagerly and had all left rather quickly in affronted huffs.
Hell, maybe he was getting weird, even for an eccentric inventor!
He was in his workshop an hour later when his telephone rang. He usually let the machine pick up all his calls, preferring to dial back the rare caller he actually wanted to speak to at a time of his choosing. Maybe because he was a bit restless this evening, he picked up the cordless extension and barked into it, "H'lo."
After a momentary pause, a slightly husky woman's voice responded. "May I speak with Dr. Jason Morris, please?"
"Not if you're a telemarketer," he growled. He was all for earning an honest living, but there were some things he simply couldn't tolerate.
"I'm not a telemarketer. Are you Jason Morris?"
"Yes. Who are you?"
If his brusque manner perturbed her, she didn't give any sign of it when she replied smoothly, "My name is Susan Landers. I'm a reporter for "
He couldn't help it. He laughed. He should probably be teed off, but he could take a good joke as well as the next guy. "Of course you are," he interrupted her to drawl. "And I'm Sir Paul McCartney. Wanna hear me sing?"
This time the pause on the other end of the line was a bit longer. "Very amusing. The reason I called "
"I know why you called." Because the wicked cleverness of the stunt amused him, he spoke indulgently. "You can tell Randy I wasn't fooled for a minute, but I do appreciate his effort."
"Dr. Morris, I assure you "
Okay, enough was enough. "Look Tiffany, isn't it? I'm a busy man. The joke was funny, but it's over now. Tell Randy I'll call him tomorrow and that I will find a way to pay him back."
He could hear her sputtering when he disconnected the call. Had to give Randy's friend credit, he mused with a wry smile. She was certainly determined to play out her part in the gag.
The phone rang again, but this time he let the machine pick up. "Dr. Morris? This is Susan Landers. I'd like to talk to you about an interview for television. If you could call me back at your convenience, my number is "
He didn't bother to listen to the digits she reeled off. He'd bet if he dialed them, he'd find himself connected to one of those phone sex lines. Sounded just like something his old pal would find funny.
He was definitely going to have to find a way to pay Randy back for this, he told himself with a low laugh.
* * *
Susan Landers stared in frustration at the telephone receiver in her hand. And then she slammed it home hard enough to make it jingle. She'd been prepared for Jason Morris to be rather odd geniuses often were, and this man's eccentric reputation had preceded him but that was one of the most bizarre conversations she'd engaged in lately.
She wanted this interview. And Susan usually found a way to get what she wanted.
"Jason Morris," she murmured, tapping one coral-nailed fingertip on the phone. "Prepare to meet your match."
Susan had read every article she'd found about Dr. Jason Morris not that many had been written about the reclusive inventor but had learned little more than that he was brilliant and unconventional and that he lived in what amounted to a walled-in compound to protect his work. Two days after he'd hung up in her ear, she stood outside his massive iron gate and studied the security camera peering back at her. It was a dark, cloudy, windy afternoon and she suspected an ugly storm was going to break any minute. She pushed the red button beneath the camera, hoping she hadn't made this drive in vain.
A moment later, a man's voice growled, "What?"
"Dr. Morris?"
"I'm busy. If it's a delivery "
"I'm Susan Landers, and I'd like to talk to you about an interview. I tried to call "
"Damn," the man interrupted in exasperation. "Randy's going to stretch this as far as he can, isn't he?"
"I don't know who Randy is, but I "
"Yeah, yeah. You're Susan Landers."
Since he still sounded disbelieving, she glared straight at the camera. "Mr. Morris, have you ever seen me on the news?"
"I might have seen Susan Landers once or twice," he admitted cautiously.
"Well? I assume you're seeing me on a security monitor."
"The monitor's in another part of the house. I'm rarely interested in what my callers look like."
The guy was certifiably nuts. Brilliant, but nuts. "Couldn't you just "
"If you're really Susan Landers, what were you wearing during your newscast last night?"
Baffled, she tried to remember. Clothes weren't that important to her; she had someone who helped her put together professional-looking ensembles because it was part of the job. "A red suit. I hate that jacket," she added. "It's too short in the sleeves, and I "
"You tug at the cuffs," he said. "You really are Susan Landers?"
"I really am. Now could we ?"
The iron gates swung apart with well-oiled efficiency. "Come in," he said. "I'll meet you at the front door."
This, she thought, must be the way Alice had
felt just before she stepped through the looking
glass. She had a feeling she was in for quite an
experience on the other side.
* * *
Jason watched through a lead glass window as a bronze sports car came to a stop at the foot of the marble stairs that led up to his front door. He still wouldn't be surprised if Randy emerged with a Susan Landers look-alike and a big, stupid grin.
But only one person slid out of the low car, and it most definitely was not Randy. He swallowed hard as he watched the nicely curved brunette march up the steps, her dark hair wind-tossed around a face he recognized instantly. Hell, he thought with a wince of chagrin. It really was Susan Landers.
He had the door open before she reached it. Because he felt awkward and a bit flustered by her unexpected arrival not to mention stunned that the woman he'd been lusting after for months was actually standing less than an arm's length away from him he spoke more gruffly than he'd intended. "Why are you here?"
She had been looking at him with an expression of surprise he didn't quite understand. In response to his question, he had the odd feeling that he could almost hear her teeth grind together. "I did try to call you. Several times."
He'd rather not think about that first call just now. "What do you want?"
More than once it had been suggested that he lacked basic social skills. He preferred to believe that he simply saved time and energy by forgoing useless ritual niceties. Some people took offense at his manners or lack of them while others tended to respond in kind.
Susan belonged to the latter group. Planting her hands on her hips, she met his scowl squarely. "Are you going to invite me inside, or must we conduct this conversation with me standing on your doorstep in the rain?"
He moved out of her way. As she entered, she glanced around the large, airy, marble-and-glass entryway with its big curving staircase before turning to face him. "Nice."
He tried to keep his gaze focused on her face, instead of the very nice rest of her. "Thanks. I guess I should ask you in to sit down or something."
Her expression was impossible to read when she nodded. "Thank you."
He wondered where he should take her. For some reason, his first thought was the media room but since that was upstairs, he led her into a more formal, little-used sitting room instead. He motioned toward one of the wingback chairs that flanked the antique sofa. "Can I get you anything?"
"No, thank you. Do you have a staff for this big place?"
"I had a longtime housekeeper, but she retired last year. Since then I've had several, but they keep quitting the latest a couple weeks ago." And a dramatic exit it had been, too. Yelling at the top of her lungs, she had quit without notice. Jason considered himself fluent in Spanish and five other languages, but she'd thrown words at him he'd never heard before. He still didn't quite understand what had set her off. The explosion hadn't been all that big, and he'd offered to help her clean the workshop.
"Dr. Morris "
"Jason," he interrupted.
"Jason," she continued. "I apologize for showing up uninvited on your doorstep. That's not the way I prefer to do business, but I couldn't connect with you by phone, and you never replied to the letter I sent last week."
He shifted his weight on the pretty but uncomfortable sofa. "I haven't looked at my mail in a couple of weeks. Your letter's probably in a stack on my desk. As for the phone calls well, I didn't believe you were really you. I have this buddy, see, with a weird sense of humor and I thought he'd anyway, that doesn't matter. So you want ?"
"I'd like to set up an on-camera interview, at your convenience, of course."
He hated doing interviews, especially when cameras were involved. "I don't "
She broke in to add, "I thought I could spend a couple of days with you, if that wouldn't be too bothersome. Give the viewers a glimpse into the life of a prominent inventor. It would be quite inspirational for young students considering careers in science and technology."
Though he always tried to encourage young people to pursue such studies, it wasn't that argument that appealed to him most. He was more tempted by the chance to spend a couple of days with the woman who had fascinated him since the first time he accidentally spotted her on television, talking about a chemical spill or some such event, the details of which he had missed because he'd been too busy staring at her mouth.
Maybe an interview wouldn't be so bad, he tried to convince himself. Especially if it would encourage promising young scientists. Of course, there were things he would not discuss with her or any reporter, until he was ready to go public with his newest invention. He would say that he preferred not to speak of ongoing projects, but he'd be happy to talk about his past work. No problem, right?
"I suppose we could arrange something "
"Great." Susan spoke quickly, as if she didn't want to give him a chance to change his mind. She had that tenacious-reporter gleam in her eyes that he recognized from her TV reports. "I have a lot of questions to ask you especially about the inventions you're working on now."
He scowled and called himself an idiot. This, he thought, was what he deserved for letting hormones overcome his common sense. A couple of days with Susan Landers could only lead to trouble in many ways.
So why wasn't he sending her away?
Jason Morris wasn't at all what Susan had expected. The few photographs she'd seen hadn't been very good. With his curly dark hair, silvery-gray eyes, cleanly chiseled features, and athletically toned body, he was no one's idea of a nerdy scientist. Her first glimpse of him had rendered her almost speechless. His behavior since had almost prompted her to say things that wouldn't at all advance her cause of getting an exclusive interview with him.
Instant lust wasn't something that happened to her very often. She certainly hadn't expected to feel it with this eccentric and somewhat abrasive inventor. But she couldn't help indulging in a few impromptu fantasies about just how creative those talented hands of his might be.
He started to speak, but thunder drowned him out. He glanced at the windows, drawing her attention to the rain that was starting to pound harder against the glass. "You picked a nice day for a drive in the country," he said wryly.
"It was the only time I had available since you wouldn't respond to mail or telephone," she couldn't resist adding.
He didn't even have the grace to look apologetic. "This interview when would you want to do it?"
She tried not to focus on the probably unintentional double entendre, though it wasn't easy. When would she like to do it? "As I said at your convenience."
"I could probably give you a couple hours sometime during the next few weeks. There is one condition."
"Which is?"
"I won't answer any questions about projects that haven't already been made public."
She frowned a little. "I understand you're about to unveil a new invention that will be truly revolutionary in the world of technology. Naturally, I'd like to ask "
He stiffened abruptly. "Where did you hear that?"
She had no intention of telling him about the anonymous note she'd received not yet, anyway. Especially since she didn't have a clue who'd sent it. She worded her answer carefully. "I know your past inventions were hailed as groundbreaking in personal electronics such as smart-phones and personal data assistants. I assume whatever you're working on now is equally important."
The way he had reacted to her seemingly innocuous comment was even more telling. Her reporter's instincts told her that whatever he was working on now must be major.
"I would be happy to discuss my past contributions to technology. But I will not talk about any ongoing projects," he repeated flatly.
"How soon " She waited until another crash of thunder subsided, then tried again. "How soon are you planning to unveil your next invention?"
"When it's ready."
Jason's reluctance just made Susan feel more certain than ever that a big story was waiting to be uncovered here. If she could break the news about Jason Morris's latest invention, her career future could be set. Because she had dealt with difficult interview subjects before, she said simply, "I certainly wouldn't expect you to answer questions that make you uncomfortable."
Her words seemed to reassure him a little. Which wouldn't have been true, of course, if he'd known she had a talent for making people feel comfortable even as they replied to questions they had not intended to answer.
Lightning slashed the skies outside, accompanied simultaneously by a clap of thunder so loud it left Susan's ears ringing. The lights flickered; she glanced around uncomfortably.
"I have an alternate power source if the electricity goes out," Jason assured her.
Because the thought of being in the dark with this intriguing man was too appealing, she smoothed her hands down her black-and-sapphire pantsuit and stood. "I'd better go before the storm gets worse. Perhaps we can make further arrangements by telephone?"
Jason had moved to the window, peering out through the open draperies. "You can't drive in this. You couldn't see the front of your car, much less anything beyond it. You'd better wait until the storm passes."
Even more aware now of being alone in this secluded fortress with a man whose attractive exterior didn't quite conceal his eccentric personality, she shook her head. "I grew up in Dallas. I'm very familiar with spring storms."
"Then you know how dangerous they can be. And since this house is 30 miles outside of Dallas, you'd be foolish to strike out until this one's over. What time is it?"
She noted that he didn't wear a watch. His muscular arms were bare beneath the short sleeves of the gray T-shirt he wore with faded jeans and white sneakers. Strong arms, she mused. The kind that could easily pick a woman up and carry her up a flight of stairs. "It's five o'clock," she said, annoyed with herself for being so easily distracted by Jason Morris's good looks.
"No wonder I'm hungry. I haven't eaten since breakfast. I forget to eat when I'm working."
Which explained how he stayed so slim, she thought even as she said casually, "I guess it's easy to get lost in an exciting new project like the one you're working on now."
He started to speak, then gave her a look and turned toward the door. "Let's find some food."
Preparing herself for the Mad Hatter's tea party, she followed him out of the sitting room. Maybe she should leave despite the storm, she thought, listening to the wind, rain, and thunder. But this seemed like a good opportunity to get some background information on Jason Morris and maybe to win his trust and convince him that she deserved the exclusive interview about his newest invention.
Besides, she thought with a touch of surprise, she didn't want to leave just yet. She tried to convince herself that her interest in him was purely professional but she was all too aware that there was more to it than that.
They ate ham and cheese sandwiches in his kitchen. Fortunately, the kitchen was relatively neat, since Jason didn't spend much time there, and even less time actually cooking. Though he was hungry, he hardly tasted the food. He kept getting distracted by the sight of Susan Landers actually sitting in his home, eating from one of his paper plates. He'd thought she was attractive on TV; he saw now that the camera didn't really do her justice. She was gorgeous and just watching her eat made him sweat.
He was going to have to be very careful that his attraction to her didn't make him stupidly inattentive when he answered her questions. He had no intention of blurting out facts he wasn't ready for the world to know just yet no matter what enticements Ms. Landers employed to get him to do so.
For a weather report, they turned on the tiny TV he kept in the kitchen. Both were surprised to discover they were under a severe thunderstorm warning, and that threatening weather was cropping up all around them. "I don't suppose you're inventing a better method of predicting the weather," Susan said, scowling at the suave meteorologist expounding on-screen. "This morning they just said there was a chance of rain. Nothing about severe weather."
"Never believe anything you hear on TV."
She frowned. "I think I resent that."
Looking away from the screen, he smiled. Though he was going to have to be on his toes around this woman, he intended to enjoy the time he spent with her before the fantasy ended. "There's no way I'm letting you leave just yet."
"You're safe here," Jason said when Susan raised an eyebrow in response to his somewhat arrogant invitation for her to stay a while longer. "From the storm and from me. No matter how beautiful you are, I'm not in the habit of making passes at women without invitation."
Had there been a compliment buried in that awkward attempt at reassurance? "I wasn't worried about being here with you. Your peers consider you brilliant, impatient, often rude and thoughtless, but they have the highest respect for your character."
She'd figured out early that Jason preferred frank speaking. And his smile, she discovered with a hollow feeling in her stomach, was lethal. "I'll take most of that as a compliment," he murmured.
Okay, she still thought him odd but cute, too. Probably knew it. "I suppose we could make good use of the time if I must stay a bit longer. If you don't object, of course."
The gleam in his eyes turned wicked. "That depends on what you have in mind."
It wasn't quite a pass, she decided. "I thought," she said repressively, "we could talk about the interview. Get some preliminary questions out of the way, find an angle for the story."
"Oh." He made a show of looking disappointed before nodding. "We'll move to a room where we can be more comfortable. I'll answer only the questions I want to."
"Fair enough."
He led her back to the foyer. She hesitated when he started up the soaring staircase, then tagged after him. Her work had taken her into much more intimidating places than an inventor's luxurious home. Up this staircase or down a rabbit hole she could certainly handle this interview. She fully intended to be satisfied with its outcome.
Noting details of the impeccably, and professionally, decorated house, she followed him into a room that was a bachelor's dream. A home theater with a large-screen TV and surround-sound system, deep-cushioned furniture, video games, billiards table, and a kitchenette with minifridge and microwave were among the amenities. "Spend a lot of time here?"
He shrugged and moved toward the kitchenette. "When I'm not in my workshops. Want some coffee?"
"Sure. Will you give me a tour of your workshops?"
"No." He switched on the coffeemaker. "Mugs and sweetener are in that cabinet, creamer in the fridge. Make yourself comfortable. I have to check on a few things downstairs. And it's a good thing you aren't one of those sneaky, unprincipled reporters who would try to follow me down and snoop into my work."
"I wouldn't dream of it."
Her haughty tone made him grin which made her knees go momentarily slack, to her secret chagrin. "I thought so."
He was gone nearly twenty minutes. She spent that time sitting on the couch, sipping coffee, making notes, and watching the severe weather creep closer on the big-screen TV. At least the storm gave her a chance to get to know Jason on a one-on-one basis. Surely she could ferret out some clue about his new invention.
He entered the room with a satisfied expression that made her ask, "Things going well in your work?"
"Well enough."
"What is it you're working on again?"
Her only reward was another of his flashing grins which was almost enough. "Nice try."
He poured a cup of coffee, then sat beside her on the couch and nodded toward her notepad. "Writing nice things about me?"
"So far. Ready to begin?"
"If I can ask you a question for each one you ask me."
"That isn't the way interviews are usually conducted."
"Maybe you've noticed I don't do things the 'usual' way."
"I've noticed." She'd also noticed that he sat rather close to her. Not touching, and in no way threatening. More cozy. The way friends sat, rather than strangers. Why, she wondered, was she having trouble remembering that they were strangers? And why was she so tempted to move even closer?
Concentrating fiercely on work, she began, "I've read that you grew up in Houston, the only child of parents who are both scientists. You're 33, never married, and have two Ph.D.s."
"Three. You said you grew up in Dallas. Siblings?"
"Two brothers. Did you always plan to become an inventor?"
"Actually, I wanted to be a stand-up comedian, but I can't tell a joke without blowing the punch line. How old are you?"
"Twenty-eight."
"Ever married?"
"No." She frowned. "Wait, it's my turn. What do you consider the greatest achievement of your career to this point?"
"I haven't blown myself up yet. Exactly. Has anyone ever mentioned that you have spectacular brown eyes?"
"That," she said, "was an uninvited pass. And you aren't cooperating."
"I've answered every question. And it wasn't a pass. Merely a fact."
"You aren't taking me seriously."
"I've always taken you very seriously," he assured her.
Always? Because she wasn't sure what he meant by that, she asked, "Will you please answer my questions honestly?"
"For you anything," he said. Then added with a chuckle, "Well, almost."
She supposed that would have to do. For now.
He arrogantly believed everything was going to be on his terms. She intended to prove him wrong.
Jason cooperated with the rest of her preliminary interview, though he passed on almost as many questions as he answered. Anything that even remotely touched on his current work was off-limits, although he talked cheerfully enough about his past work.
"I can find all this information in the few articles that have been written about you," she complained finally.
He shrugged. "So ask something original."
She ground her teeth until her jaw popped. "I've asked several original questions. You've refused to answer them."
"I'm not discussing my current work with you, Susan. I'm not ready. There are patent issues, and then the rumors that get started when word gets out a new invention is in the wings. Everyone starts making wild guesses, reporters start poking around "
She lifted an eyebrow.
" and my privacy gets all shot to hell," he concluded. "Once people start blowing predictions all out of proportion, they're actually disappointed when they discover the new product isn't a guarantee of immortality or some such miracle."
"But you do have one extremely important invention you'll be unveiling soon, don't you? Something that's going to make significant changes in the world?"
"I don't know where you got that tip, but you probably wasted your time coming here today. If my conditions don't interest you, you're free to change your mind about the interview."
"I don't want to change my mind," she said and discovered that it was true. She wasn't ready to give up on this guy for an interview, of course, she added quickly. "What do you suggest now?"
"Spend the day with me tomorrow."
"Um tomorrow?"
He nodded. "I'll pick you up. If you discover at the end of the day that I'm not all that interesting, we'll shake hands and go back to being strangers. If you still want an interview, I'm all yours."
All hers. Unfortunately, she liked the sound of that a bit too much. She nodded slowly. "All right. You're on."
Susan tried to keep in mind Sunday that being with Jason was supposed to be work. She did learn a lot about him though very little of it had anything to do with his projects.
He took her to the zoo. She should have expected something like that. Fortunately, she'd dressed casually in khakis and a camp shirt; Jason wore jeans and a T-shirt again, apparently his favorite ensemble.
The orangutans in their grassy compound held his ever-shifting attention longest. "They're inventors, did you know that? They've been known to be quite creative in using whatever is at hand to help them find food, shelter, and entertainment."
"So you identify with the monkeys? Living behind walls, thinking up ways to make life easier while spectators watch for your next clever move?"
He lifted an eyebrow at her, then took her hand and turned away. "Orangutans aren't monkeys they're apes."
Allowing him to lead her to the next exhibit, and very aware of the feel of her hand in his, she noted that he hadn't responded to her impulsively whimsical question. Did he feel pressured to produce the Next Big Thing? Was it hard being so young and already having so many impressive accomplishments behind him? She had asked those questions the day before, but he'd blown them off. And she found herself getting much too easily distracted by her pleasure in being with him, learning what made this fascinating man tick. It seemed much more like a first date than an interview.
He talked about his favorite pastimes swimming and racquetball. He had a lap pool and racquetball court at his house, so he really didn't have to leave very often. Everything he needed within four walls, she thought with a glance back at the orangutan exhibit.
He learned more about her over cheeseburgers in Dallas's West End. She told him that she loved mysteries, Celtic music, and power-walking to stay in shape. They both liked action movies, disliked weepy period sagas, and sometimes needed to get away to places where no one knew who they were.
Several times, Susan was greeted by people who watched her newscasts. Others stared at her in puzzlement, trying to remember where they had seen her before. She was polite, of course good P.R. was an important part of her job but the attention was intrusive at times.
"At least my face isn't as well-known as yours," Jason remarked after a trio of women stopped by their table to shower Susan with compliments about her work. "Now you see why I'm hesitant to do interviews."
"Does it bother you when people approach me that way? I've been out with guys who find it very annoying not that this is a date, of course," she added, feeling suddenly foolish.
He flashed a quick smile that made her cheeks warm, then replied, "It certainly isn't something I could take very often. I'm tempted to ask these people if we look like we want company, but I'm trying to keep quiet because I assume you'd be embarrassed."
She supposed she should be pleased he was making an effort for her sake not that she would have been as embarrassed as he seemed to believe.
At an arcade next door to the burger joint, she learned a bit more about his work. He talked about his habit of looking at all things mechanical and instinctively thinking of ways to make them more efficient. She heard how he'd started taking apart his mother's kitchen appliances when he was only six, learning how they worked, wondering how they could be improved.
When he stood close behind her to guide her hands on a video game he had designed, she nearly hyperventilated. She was no longer even pretending that being with him had anything to do with her work.
She wouldn't exactly call him a charming companion. He was gruff, blunt-spoken and impatient. She found his frank honesty refreshing, being more accustomed to the smiling phoniness of many of her business associates. Jason certainly couldn't be described as phony, or vain, or insincere. Actually, she couldn't think of any succinct words to describe him not a good thing for a reporter, of course.
They were wandering through a southwestern art gallery when he asked, "Is your job the reason you're still single and unattached?"
"Not entirely. I haven't yet met anyone I wanted to attach myself to." She stroked the side of a beautiful little clay pot and asked, "What about you?"
Staring intently at a painting of moon-silhouetted wild horses, he shrugged. "Not many women have the patience to put up with me. I forget birthdays and holidays and dinner dates, occasionally. I forget to give gifts and compliments. I get lost in my work for days and don't answer the door or the phone. Don't want to be interrupted by friends, family, or anyone else."
She turned reluctantly away from the little pot, telling herself they shouldn't be talking about his love life even though she found it all too interesting. "We still haven't discussed your last invention. An improved antenna for cell phones, isn't it? When will it be available to the general public?"
"Within the next few months." Following her lead, he talked about the new technology even as he picked up the little pot, paid for it, and had it safely wrapped. He pressed the package into her hands as they left the store. "You seemed to like this."
It was such a sweet and uncharacteristic thing for him to do that it caught her off-guard. Blushing like a schoolgirl, she smiled at him. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," he said simply, smiling back at her warmly.
* * *
At the end of the day, Susan had to admit to herself that Jason Morris fascinated her as a reporter, and as a woman. When he took her back home, she invited him in for coffee to further discuss their interview, she added, though she doubted the obvious excuse fooled him for a minute.
He followed her into her little-used kitchen and watched as she prepared the coffee. Very aware of him standing so close in the small room, she asked, "Without going into detail, couldn't you at least tell me how you would classify your new project? Does it involve computers? Communications? Entertainment? Some other area?"
"No."
"No, none of the above?"
"No, I'm not going to talk about it. Is that really the only reason you spent the day with me? To try to get me to tell you more than I want to?"
She turned away from the coffeemaker. "I've said from the start that I want an exclusive about your new project."
"And I've said you aren't getting one. Not until I'm ready. So you ready to shake hands and call the whole thing off?"
She should say yes, of course. Without the new project, there was no story. But without a story, there was really no reason to spend any more time with Jason.
His eyes holding hers, Jason took a step closer. "It's your move, Susan," he said, his voice suddenly husky. "What do you want to do now?"
Susan decided the interview was still on. Even without the unveiling of his latest invention, there was still the coup of taping an interview with an influential and habitually reclusive inventor. At least, that was what she told Jason and tried to believe, herself.
Of course, a personality piece required more setup. She needed to know him better before she could represent him accurately to an audience. Jason agreed, and suggested they spend the next Saturday together, since both were busy with work during the week. And since they wasted that Saturday picnicking at a park and flying a kite he'd designed instead of discussing the interview, they decided they'd better spend the following weekend together, as well.
It seemed entirely natural when he kissed her goodbye that evening a kiss that nearly melted her sandals, confirming her suspicion that his talents included much more than technology. She was tempted to invite him in, but she forced herself to send him away. She needed a bit more time to decide exactly what was happening between them, she told herself.
Though neither Susan nor Jason spent much time on nonwork-related telephone calls, they spoke nearly every day that week. At first, there was always a pretext for the calls something she'd thought to ask him, or a comment he wanted to make about her latest news report. Eventually, they stopped pretending the calls were about anything other than hearing each other's voices. And they made no further effort to talk about work their conversations were strictly personal, and increasingly intimate.
Susan felt like a giddy schoolgirl pouncing sheepishly on the phone when it rang, waiting impatiently beside it when it didn't. How unlike her and yet it was nice to feel that way again. She assured herself her work wasn't affected by this heavy crush she seemed to have developed, but several of her acquaintances commented that there was something different about her had she changed her hair? Was she experimenting with new makeup? Was that why her eyes suddenly seemed brighter?
* * *
Three Saturdays after their first meeting, Jason opened his door for her. "Hi," he said, drawing her inside.
"Hi," she replied, studying the face that had haunted her since she'd met him.
He touched a hand to her jaw. "Remember that agreement we had about uninvited passes?"
She was unable to resist rubbing her cheek against his fingertips. "I remember."
"How about an invitation?"
She slid her arms around his neck, wondering at her own uncharacteristic behavior. "Will this do?"
"Oh, yeah," he growled, and crushed her mouth beneath his.
One kiss led to another and then another. A first step led to the bottom of the stairs, and then swept them up to his bedroom. They had been building toward this from the beginning, she realized in wonder. The time they had spent together, the smiles and touches, the long phone conversations. Their mutual delight at finding they had so much in common.
"I feel as though I've known you so much longer than a few short weeks," Susan murmured, her breathless words seeming to echo in his huge bedroom.
Jason spoke against the pounding hollow of her throat, his clever hands busy exploring the rest of her. "I'd say you've gotten to know me pretty well in a few weeks. Better than some people who've known me for years."
Even as she burrowed her hands beneath his T-shirt to stroke his athlete's body, she tried to retain some sanity. "It's probably too soon for this. Maybe we should wait."
Since she was tugging at his shirt as she spoke, he didn't seem to take her too seriously. "We could wait," he agreed, lowering his mouth to the soft skin revealed when he unbuttoned her shirt. "Wanna stop and take this up again in a couple more weeks?"
She sighed when he nuzzled aside her bra and took her in his mouth. "I wouldn't have gotten where I am if I believed in wasting time," she decided aloud.
He chuckled. "Same here."
And then he tumbled her onto his bed.
Someone had asked Susan recently if she believed in love at first sight. As she fell deeper into Jason's kisses, she had a feeling her answer might be different if she were asked the same question today.
Who would have believed, she asked herself, burying her hands in his thick, curly, dark hair, that a simple anonymous tip would have changed her whole life?
Jason proved to be as inventive in the bedroom as he was in a workshop. He had little talent for pretty words, but she had no doubt the words he spoke were sincere. He told her how attractive she was, how much he enjoyed being with her, how pleased he was that she understood him well enough to be attracted to him, too. And he touched her both physically and emotionally in ways that made her realize she would never be satisfied with "ordinary" again.
By the time he dug into his nightstand drawer to provide protection, she no longer had any doubts about the wisdom of their actions. She'd never fallen so hard or so fast for anyone. Why should they waste any of the time they had together?
Jason cupped her face between his hands and gave her a smile that turned her heart inside out. "You're as special as I always knew you would be," he murmured. "Beautiful, yes. But also clever and interesting and honest. You don't play the usual games and you don't seem to mind that I don't make time for them myself."
She tangled her bare legs with his and reached up to stroke the firm line of his jaw. "Trust me, I get enough meaningless games in my work. I've always preferred honesty."
They communicated then with kisses, sighs, and gasps, with incoherent murmurs and lingering touches. Jason's words might be blunt, but his lovemaking was pure poetry, Susan thought as he thrust smoothly into her, stealing her breath and her heart at the same time.
* * *
"Jason?" she asked much later, her cheek cradled on his shoulder.
His eyes were closed, his breathing deep and even. "Mm?" he asked, proving he wasn't quite asleep.
"What did you mean when you said I was as special as you always thought I would be?"
Without opening his eyes, he chuckled huskily. "I meant what I said. I've been watching you on TV for months."
That made her frown. "You have?"
"Mm. That's why I didn't believe it was you when you called. I thought my friend Randy had put someone up to impersonating you, because he knew I had a thing for you."
Her frown deepened. "I'm not just a nice face on a big screen, you know."
His eyes opened then, their expression suddenly stern. "And I'm no star-struck fan. Don't trivialize this, Susan."
She tried to find reassurance in his words. Of course he wasn't star-struck. Why should he be? He was the one with all the degrees, the international patents, the mega-dollars, and the awed admiration of the technological community. Hardly the type of man who would be overly impressed by a local television reporter. Right?
For the first time in years, she was more excited and optimistic about her personal life than her career. It was thrilling and terrifying.
She'd never let herself care enough to have her heart broken, yet something told her that Jason could shatter it, if she didn't take a few precautions. Which, considering their current position, was a rather ironic thought, she mused, even as he turned to take her in his arms again.
Susan had always considered herself a difficult dating prospect, but she was downright easy compared to Jason. As he had warned, he was sometimes thoughtless and forgetful. But at least he didn't mind when her career obligations interfered with their plans, since he was as much a compulsive workaholic as she was.
He didn't talk about his work, but seemed fascinated by hers. She invited him to the station one evening for a tour before she went on air. He watched as she prepared for the broadcast, then finagled his way into the control booth. She had to almost drag him away; he'd been lost in conversation with the technicians, listening with interest to their discussion of broadcasting equipment and how it could be improved.
"And you told me you aren't a schmoozer," she chided him later, when they were snuggled in her bed.
His eyebrows rose. "A schmoozer?"
"Someone who charms his way into getting what he wants. You worked my coworkers like a practiced politician so you could learn all their technical secrets."
He grinned. "Nice people. Cool toys. I had a good time."
"I'm glad." Quite pleased with herself, she leaned over to kiss his smile.
* * *
They had been lovers for more than a month before she met his best friend, Randy Brady, at a Dallas restaurant. She suspected the meeting was Randy's idea. She wasn't sure why Jason was so hesitant to introduce her to his friends, but she reminded herself that he did things at his own speed.
"Look at the two of you," the likable patent attorney said, smiling from Jason to Susan. "You make a lovely couple."
"Knock it off," Jason growled, stabbing a fork into his steak.
Randy chuckled and spoke to Susan. "Don't know how you put up with him. Jason has the personality of an old dog just as likely to snap at you as to wag his tail."
Jason grumbled, but Susan only laughed. "He has his own charms."
Randy grinned. "I know that. It's just rare that anyone else digs deep enough to find them."
"Yes, well, I'm aware my so-called charms quickly lose their novelty," Jason muttered. "So could we just enjoy the rest of our dinner, please?"
Randy obligingly changed the subject, but Susan pondered Jason's words. Was he implying that he expected her to lose interest and move on? If so, he wasn't showing much confidence in her or in their feelings for each other. Or were his feelings as strong as hers? He'd never said, of course, but she'd attributed that to his habitual awkwardness at expressing emotions.
Maybe she should have probed deeper. It would be nice to know how he defined this impetuous affair, and what he wanted for their future.
Randy kissed Susan's cheek when they parted in the parking lot. "I knew you and Jason would be great together."
Thinking of the anonymous tip that had brought them together, Susan frowned, but Randy only winked at her and took his leave.
"The guy's strange, but he's been a good friend," Jason said as they belted themselves into his car.
"I like him."
"Maybe we'll do something with him again sometime."
Maybe? Randy was Jason's best friend. If she and Jason were to remain together, of course she would be seeing Randy. Just as she expected Jason to mingle with her friends on occasion.
He started the car, then turned to pull her toward him for a kiss that nearly singed her eyelashes. "Your place or mine?"
Her smile trembled. "Mine's closer."
He put the car into gear. Pushing her doubts to the back of her mind, Susan ordered herself again to stop overanalyzing him.
* * *
Susan was out of town on assignment the next week. She spoke with Jason a couple of times, but he seemed distracted probably by his work. Somehow the interview seemed to have fallen by the wayside and she suspected he was the one who'd made sure it did so. He'd never been enthusiastic about it. And since she still didn't have a clue what he was working on, she still had no lead angle.
As arranged, she drove to his place after arriving back in Dallas. He met her at the front door, and he wasn't at all distracted when he pulled her into his arms and kissed her as though it had been weeks rather than days since they'd last been together. She was convinced she had his full attention when he took her to his bed and made love with her until they were both incapable of coherent thought.
A long time afterward, they sat at his kitchen table, munching the fried chicken his new housekeeper had left in the fridge. Susan wore one of Jason's shirts, and he had on a pair of jeans. The scene was so cozy it made her chest ache. This was what she always wanted to come home to, she thought dreamily. No one had ever fit her hectic life more perfectly than this unconventional inventor.
Maybe it was time she made that clear to him. "You know what I'd like to do after we eat?"
His grin was devilish. "Again? I'd better pop some vitamins for dessert."
Wrinkling her nose at him, she shook her head. "Not that. Well not yet, anyway. What I would really like is a tour of your workshop. I've never even seen that part of your house."
"Some other day, maybe."
His gruff answer made her smile fade. "I wouldn't mind a mess. You've probably "
"It's just not a good time."
She pushed her plate away. "You don't want me to see your work."
"That's hardly a news flash. I told you "
Her heart breaking, she stood. "I wasn't asking as a reporter this time, but as the woman who's been sharing your bed for more than a month. I thought there was more between us than that."
"Look, Susan "
She wondered how she had been so blind. "You've deliberately kept me from your work because you don't trust me. Just like you didn't particularly want me to meet your friends because you didn't expect me to be around long enough to be an important part of your life."
"I learn from my experiences," he growled impatiently. "As for my work well, that has nothing to do with us. With what we've shared."
"And just what have we shared, Jason?"
It took him a moment to realize the question wasn't rhetorical. "Some good times. It's been great "
"A nice little fling," she said bitterly, throwing her crumpled napkin at the table and turning toward the door. "You are such a jerk."
"Damn it, Susan "
She ran up the stairs and locked his bedroom door behind her. Ten minutes later she emerged fully dressed, her chin high. Jason waited at the bottom of the stairs. "You're leaving?"
She reached for the doorknob. "I'm leaving."
He nodded fatalistically. "This is the way it always ends. Now you know why it's what I expected from the start."
Infuriated, she whirled on him. "I don't know why those other women left, but I'll tell you why I am. Because you didn't care enough to ask me to stay. You were content to admire me on the TV screen, where I didn't interfere with your routines or jeopardize your precious secrets. Well, fine. Let's just keep it that way from now on. Happy lonely viewing, Dr. Morris."
She slammed the door hard behind her. It hurt even worse that Jason made absolutely no effort to stop her.
After all, she thought sadly, this was what he had expected all along.
"Jason, old friend, you're an idiot. A genius, but an idiot, nonetheless."
Jason scowled at Randy over a pile of electronic components in his workshop. "Butt out."
"Did you even try to get her to stay?"
"What was I supposed to do, chain her to the kitchen table?"
"I doubt that would have been necessary. She was crazy about you, dude. She didn't deserve to be treated with your usual lack of consideration."
"She wanted a scoop about my work. When she didn't get it, she left."
Randy was quiet for a long time before he said, "If you believe that, you really are an idiot."
"You're suddenly an expert on Susan Landers? You only met her once."
"I'm an expert on you and I think you broke her heart with your cynicism and mistrust. As for your heart, I'm beginning to wonder if you even have one."
He had one, all right, and it had hurt like hell since Susan walked out on him two weeks ago. He kept waiting for the pain to fade; he'd certainly never ached this long over any other woman. But Susan was different. He'd never really cared that much about the others.
He missed her so badly it even interfered with his work and no one had ever done that before.
Randy held up both hands. "Fine. I'll butt out. I've done too much as it is. But I thought you'd at least have the sense to ask this one for another chance."
Wincing, Jason remembered Susan's parting words. You didn't care enough to ask me to stay.
He had never claimed to be an expert with women, he mused after Randy departed. The workings of the female mind were more of a mystery to him than the most complex example of technology. But if there was even the slightest chance that Randy was right that Susan had really cared more for him than the career she loved so much then he really was a prize idiot. And he'd better get busy inventing a way to correct the biggest mistake he had ever made.
* * *
Susan knew she should get out of her apartment rather than waste a lovely spring weekend moping. This behavior was embarrassing, she berated herself. Surely she had more backbone than this. She could pick up the pieces of a shattered heart and get on with her life.
At least her heartbreak wasn't interfering with her job. She'd been told she'd done some of her best work during the past few weeks.
She wished that made her feel better.
Someone pounded on her apartment door. She frowned at the security panel, wondering why she hadn't been buzzed. Maybe it was one of her neighbors, she thought without much interest. "Who is it?"
"Jason."
Her chest clenched. "How did you get in the building? Go away."
"Susan, let me in. There's something I want to show you."
Because he spoke loudly and she hated to call attention to their quarrel, she opened the door. "Go away."
Instead, he swept past her, towing a wheeled luggage carrier to which was strapped a large metal box secured with sturdy locks.
"What is that?" she asked, crossing her arms and glaring at him. Trying to pretend she wasn't affected by seeing him again.
He closed the door. "I want to show you my current project. You'd probably call it 'revolutionary' that's what the few people who know about it keep saying. It's a new type of energy source, one that will make the severely limited and seriously polluting batteries in use now obsolete."
She tried to care about the invention. "So you're ready to go public? And you're offering me an interview as what? An apology of sorts?"
"I'm a good two years from going public," he corrected with a scowl. "If word gets out about this too soon, it will be a nightmare for me. That's why I live behind walls to guard my secrets."
Her heart began to slam against her chest. "Then why are you here?" she whispered.
He met her eyes squarely. "To prove that I trust you, in a way I've never trusted any woman before. And to do the one thing I was most afraid to do before. To ask no, to beg you not to give up on me."
Her eyes flooded. "You hurt me."
"I know," he said, a muscle working in his cheek. His voice softened. "I'm so sorry. I didn't realize that I could hurt you that badly."
"Then you're "
"A jerk? That's what you called me before. Randy called me an idiot. You're both right. But I hope you'll give me a chance to try to change."
She swiped impatiently at her cheeks. "I never wanted to change you, Jason. I thought you were perfect for me. I just wanted to believe you felt the same way about me."
"I do." He took a step toward her. "No one's ever been more perfect for me."
"You fell for a face on a TV screen," she accused him, afraid to trust him again.
He shook his head. "I fell for a woman who's beautiful and bright and interesting and as committed to her career as I am to mine. And then I ran you off because I was afraid I didn't deserve someone that special. I'd never made a relationship work before, and I knew it would devastate me if I failed this time. I got scared, Susan."
"What you've always needed," she said quietly, "is someone who understands your dedication to your work. Your love for it. Someone who has equally compelling interests of her own. Someone to share your life with without being joined at the hip 24/7. Someone who doesn't really mind when you forget birthdays and holidays, because she tends to forget them herself. Someone who loves you exactly the way you are."
"That's exactly what I need," he said a bit unsteadily. "Do you happen to know anyone like that?"
She reached out to him. "Here's a news flash, pal. You're looking at her."
She was in his arms, her mouth crushed beneath his, almost before she saw him move. And there were no secrets left in his kiss.
"You'll have to be patient with me," he muttered against her lips. "I've never been in love before. But I've always been a fast learner when something mattered to me enough."
"We'll learn together," she promised, taking his hand. "It should be quite an adventure."
* * *
It was a long time later when Susan lifted her head from Jason's bare shoulder and glanced toward the bedroom door. "Jason?"
"Mm?" He sounded sleepy and content.
"Is your invention okay in there? It was kind of risky of you to bring it out like this, wasn't it?"
He looked a bit sheepish when he opened his eyes. "Um Susan?"
"Yes?"
"That case is empty. I didn't really want to bring my work out in public like this."
She raised an eyebrow. "You said you wanted to show it to me."
"I do," he assured her quickly. "I'll take you on a thorough tour of my workshops the minute we walk into my house, I promise. I just well, I have to be careful, you know."
"So the case was just a prop?"
"An illustration," he corrected. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."
She sighed and crossed her hands on his chest, smiling crookedly at him. "You," she said, "are a very eccentric man. But at least it'll never be boring between us."
Flipping her onto her back, he loomed over her with a wicked grin. "That I can promise you," he said, and covered her mouth with his.
The End