The Love Experiment Page 15

  Where they were going was a good half-hour drive and took Derelie through parts of the city she’d not seen before. That might well be a metaphor for what they were doing, seeing each other in a new way, outside of work. The remainder of the questionnaire felt like it might be a map to where they’d end up.

  They found a pond and a tree for shade and Jack had a blanket in that box and the sun was out and there were no long shadows and no concrete echoes. It didn’t smell like home, there were certainly no white squirrels, they weren’t sitting on the back of a pickup, there was no Ernest, all excited to be out, and there were lots of other people around, but it was a solid effort.

  Jack paused in the process of unpacking the picnic and looked up. “I ordered birds.” He’d been to a deli and brought sandwiches, cheese and crackers, bottled water and soda. He had a couple of apples and a bunch of grapes and two slices of lemon meringue pie.

  “For a guy who’s never been on a picnic, you did good.”

  “Is this the part where you reconsider sitting in my lap last night?”

  “Nope.” She considered that part of the night an outstanding achievement.

  “You’re sure?” She hadn’t sighted a smile yet. She craved a smile.

  “I broke up with Yogaboy this morning.” She had a sudden vision of ankles over shoulders—her ankles, Jack’s broad shoulders.

  “I’m pleased to hear it.”

  That was his signal to jump on her, or at least touch her with some sense of his intention to keep touching her, but he stayed on the other side of the blanket with the box between them. Yogaboy was obnoxiously forward, but Jack was the picture of reticence. Had she imagined his heart thudding into her palm for a second time?

  “You want me to sign a waiver or something?” She held her hand up. “I, Derelie Honeywell, give full consent to Jackson Haley to ravage my body for the purposes of sexy times. I do solemnly promise not to kiss and tell.” She said it in jest, but the look on his face told her he wasn’t sharing the joke. “What?”

  “Aside from everything else that’s happened between us—theft, lies and we haven’t gotten to the videotape part—I’ve been burned before,” he said.

  Video. “You think I’d cause you trouble.”

  “I hope so.”

  “I wouldn’t—oh.” That was more like it. “I really want to kiss you.”

  “That’s definitely in the plan.”

  “Video?”

  “Questions first, video later. And that ravaging you wanted, I believe it can be arranged.” But still no smile. He was dressed like weekend Jack, but his manner was all office.

  “Who burned you?”

  “It’s not so much who as what.”

  Ah, he was talking about the downside of his slice of fame. “I’ve seen behind the curtain, Jack, and I still like what’s there.”

  He gave her a slow perusal she met with one of her own. Weekend Jack was all about the arms and shoulders and the way his T-shirt fell against his body and the fact she knew he wasn’t office-soft from too much sitting.

  “Twelve questions before you can make that assessment,” he said.

  All right then. Still going to want to trace that raised vein that started near his wrist and charted territory all the way to his elbow.

  She pulled a printout of the questions from her pocket. “We each have to make three true ‘we’ statements, like ‘We’re both happy to be in the park.’”

  She frowned at the paper. The question implied they understood each other. Odd how that made her uncertain.

  “I’ll start. We’re both a little nervous with each other.” She looked at him for confirmation.

  “That’s not going to get you ravaged.”

  But it was true, and he wasn’t protesting it. “We both enjoyed kissing last night.”

  “Much better.”

  “We’re both looking forward to tonight.”

  “My turn.” He reached over the box and took the page from her hand, but he didn’t spare it a glance. “We’re a crash course in chemical attraction. We’re lab rats let loose and juiced up on conversation. We’re as ill-advised as we’re inevitable.”

  Gulp.

  “We’re staying at opposite ends of this blanket because all I want to do is get my hands on you, taste you, smell that fruit in your hair, hear the way you lose your breath and feel your body grinding up on mine.”

  And she’d wondered if he was having second thoughts.

  Chapter Sixteen

  It was possible Jack had frightened Derelie off. He needed to lighten up. They were on a picnic for God’s sake, and picnics were meant to be easy. Children went on picnics; how hard could it be? But he’d been wound up since he’d talked Derelie out of his apartment last night and seeing her sitting cross-legged opposite him with expectation in her eyes was making it hard to keep his distance.

  He needed the distance, or he would definitely come on too intense. “What I said about what I want with you, was that too much?”

  She tipped her head to the side and a hunk of bright curls fell over her shoulder. He knew that hair would be unruly. “It was especially perfect.”

  There was hope for him yet. This he didn’t want to wreck. He looked at the page. “‘Complete this sentence. I wish I had someone with whom I could share, dot, dot, dot.’”

  “I wish I had someone with whom I could share how I felt about the city without being told to come home,” she said, eyes down on the blanket.

  “You’re stuck pretending everything is fantastic.”

  She nodded. “My family and friends mean well, but they don’t understand why I want to live in a place I can barely afford and work in a job that’s not secure.”

  When she said things like that he didn’t feel like they were worlds apart, that he was too jaded and she was too romantic. “I wish I had someone with whom I could share the feelings that make me want to chase a black eye.”

  “Would it help?”

  “I’d like to try it.” For the first time ever. Derelie wriggled about, changing her posture. He knew what she wanted because he wanted it too. “Stay on your side.”

  “Move the box.”

  “If I move the box we’re done with the questions.”

  “We can extemporize.”

  “By which you mean make it up.”

  “I thought a ten dollar word might win you over.”

  She didn’t need to win him over. He was so far over any line that should be drawn between them, and still he wanted to protect this unexpected thing they had from needless regrets because it felt precious.

  “No you didn’t. You’re being a brat, hoping I’ll do something about that.” She stuck her tongue out at him. Oh Christ. He felt that in his body in places not suitable for picnics in public places.

  He checked the page for the next question. “‘If you were going to become a close friend with your partner’—that would be me, in this example—’share what would be important for them to know.’”

  “I have an IUD, barely used, and a clean bill of health I’m not afraid to get dirty.”

  He groaned and looked away to where a couple of kids were trying to get a kite to fly. “Friend, the question says friend. Do you go around discussing birth control with all your friends?”

  “Only the ones I want to jump.”

  “You won’t wear your aligner—” he pointed at her mouth “—in front of me, but you’ll tell me that.” He tried to stare her into behaving. She wasn’t embarrassed; she was delighted he was. “How did we get to the place where you’re not treating this seriously?”

  “I’m treating it very seriously.”

  “Give me the real answer to that question.”

  She laughed and rolled to her back. “Payback is a bitc
h. I don’t care if that’s a cliché.”

  He took an apple from the box and crushed it against his teeth, biting down on the tart, crisp flesh with a degree of savagery no piece of fruit required. He wanted to crawl over Derelie, pin her down and eat her laugher. He managed to poke her with his foot to remind her he was waiting without further damage to his tenuous equilibrium.

  She looked over at him. “What else is important for you to know? How about I’m strong, I’m ambitious and I’m banking on myself to succeed?”

  Great answer. No false modesty and no bragging. And an IUD. This woman.

  He stuck to the question because it had self-preservation qualities. “I want you to know I don’t have a bad temper. I can get a little intense. I intimidated you, and I’m not proud of it, but I’d never hurt you physically. The violence in the boxing is a separate thing from everyday me. It’s hard to explain, but I’d never bring that to you.”

  She sat up, the smile stripped from her face. “I never thought that.”

  “Look at me.” He didn’t look like the kind of man she’d want to video-call home with. “You had to wonder.”

  She gave him direct, unwavering eye contact. “I don’t see you as a violent man, Jack. You intimidated me professionally, but I never felt physically threatened and we wouldn’t be here if I had.”

  He closed his eyes. His lenses were tinted, so the relief he felt at that would be hidden from her. How many more goddamn questions were there before he could have her in his arms?

  He took another bite of apple and rolled his neck, hearing it pop as some of the tension he’d been holding on to let go. “I haven’t been tested for a while.” There’d been no need. “If we like what happens between us, I’ll get checked out.”

  “We are so going to like it.”

  She grinned at him, and the muscles in his shoulders went slack. He referred to the page for next question. “‘Tell your partner what you like about them. Be very honest. Say the things you might not say to someone you’ve just met.’”

  “I like that you’re more than my first impression.”

  “You thought I was gay and something strange about underwear.”

  She laughed. “And that you had balls the size of Texas, not speaking literally, of course.” She glanced at his crotch and blushed. “I like that you have this Jackson Haley professional thing going on and you care about your work, but that you’re not all ego and bluster. You’re the real deal. Walking competence porn. I like that I make you nervous.”

  On the whole, people didn’t make him nervous. But the more he got to know Derelie the more that feeling surfaced. “How is that attractive?” He liked that she knew it wasn’t the questions exactly that had him on edge, it was what she made of the answers.

  “Are you kidding? You like me, Jack. It’s the highest compliment you can pay me.”

  He groaned. “I’ve created a monster.”

  “Cliché.”

  “Exactly my point.” He wagged the half-eaten apple at her.

  “I like the way you kiss. I like that so much, and the way you held me and got a little needy with me. Oh man, I like that.”

  He’d been desperately needy with her. And heroically restrained. “There are kids in this park.”

  “I like the way you play it so smooth and unemotional but underneath you’re a man who craves softness, a way to be gentle without being judged. I like you for Martha and for your messy apartment and your Jesus jeans and your forearms and the fact you know the details of a hundred and ten case studies. If it’s not obvious, Jackson Haley, I am so, so into you it’s going to be mortifying if we don’t happen.”

  He didn’t like her, he was infatuated with her, enchanted, captivated. Was it the enhanced intimacy of the experiment or had she drugged him? “How much do you hate my cigarettes?”

  “They make you smell sweet. I like the way they tasted when we kissed.”

  Game over. He took the clove packet out of the box and rolled a smoke. Held it away from her while he let the comfort of habit knock the last of his anxiety out.

  “I like the way you’re not WYSIWYG.” What you saw wasn’t what you got with her. “You look all stereotypical butter wouldn’t melt, apple pie wholesome, farm fresh and ridiculously candy sweet. But you’re more. You’re resilient and quick-witted and a fast study. You have this determination that shines like a light under your skin. Much as it makes me uneasy—fuck, near terrifies me—I like the way you see through me, and it doesn’t scare you off. You turn me on, make me want. If you’re under any illusion I’ve got any cool left when it comes to you, I’m going to be a shocking disappointment.”

  She gave him a look he wanted to interpret as “you couldn’t disappoint me if you tried,” and that worried him, because there was a dump truck load of ways he could.

  “We’re supposed to share an embarrassing moment,” he said, flapping the page at her.

  “You embarrassed me for real that day at the briefing. Everyone looked at me. I felt like the biggest idiot. I was worried Phil would think I’m not a good fit and voluntarily lay me off.”

  Fuck. He knew all that. He wore it in the black eye and the cut brow and the bruising. “Did I make you cry?”

  “You made me go hide in the bathroom because I wanted to cry, but then you made me hate you enough I held it together. I shouldn’t have asked that question, it was dumb, but you were the one with the power and you used it to ridicule me.”

  “It’s one of the most embarrassing moments of my life too. That’s the entire reason I look like this.” He lifted the side of his shirt. The bruise above his hip was a purple stain, tender to touch, irritated by the waistband of his jeans. “I can help with Madden if it becomes an issue.”

  “I don’t want your help, Jack. I can fix it myself.”

  Entirely what he deserved. He took another bite of the apple. He wasn’t going to be allowed the luxury of acting the big man and saving her. She would save herself.

  He checked the page—too many questions left. “We’re supposed to share what we dislike about each other.”

  She pushed hair away from her face. “I don’t like it when you pull that Jackson Haley, Human Dinkus crap in front of me. When you look at me as if we live in different worlds and mine is inferior.”

  “Defense mechanism,” he offered flatly. It went with the way she challenged his masculinity.

  “Well, stop it.”

  He liked the heat of command in her voice. “I dislike the fact you’re going to complicate my life, Derelie Honeywell.”

  “Suck it up, you big dinkus.”

  “Next question. ‘When did you last cry?’”

  “I cried on the phone to my mom, about three months after I got here. I hated everything about the city and I’d been saying how great it was and I was so caught in that lie. I didn’t know if I could cut it at the Courier and everyone wanted me to give up and come home and I didn’t want to let on that’s what I wanted most in the world.”

  He’d forgotten to tell her how much he liked her generosity. “I don’t remember the last time I cried, Derelie. But that’s because I fight instead. By that logic, the last time I cried was two nights ago after I’d humiliated you. I did it in front of a man I’d never met whose name was Alvarez. He cried too. Different reasons, but we both were pissed off with ourselves and wanted to do better.”

  She came up on her knees. “I don’t like the fighting thing, Jack. It scares me, even though I know it’s not directed at me.”

  “Sometimes it scares me too, but I promise you the setup is safe and the man running the show knows what he’s doing. He almost didn’t let me fight.”

  She knee-walked a little closer. “What’s next?”

  Jack looked at the page. The questions ran together. There was one about dying and last regrets,
another about what you’d save after people and pets if your house was on fire, and a whole question devoted to sharing a problem. He picked that one as the last question he was going to honor. “We’re supposed to share a problem we’ve got and give advice. Do you want to start?”

  She looked away, played with a corner of the blanket. In the quiet, he could hear kids yelling about a kite, and in the distance the hum that was the city.

  “I want a promotion. I want more money. I want more job security. I’m not sure how to get them. It’s not merit alone. That’s how I might’ve gone about it before, but that’s my hometown girl naivety. You need to be more than good at your job to do well at the Courier. But it’s not like I’m gonna sleep with Phil to get ahead.”

  His heart dodged that punch, but it collected him anyway. “You can’t sleep with me to get ahead either.” He’d had those veiled offers. Trading sex for favors wasn’t on his to-do list.

  “That’s the problem. That’s what people will think, won’t they?”

  “Let’s take a step back and break it down.” He was almost out of apple. He could be detached and clinical about this. “You want better conditions at work and you want to sleep with me.”

  “I want dirty, filthy, depraved sex with you.”

  He shouldn’t like those words out of her plush lips so much, like how they feathered over his body and made his skin goose-bump. “And the two things could be seen as linked. Easy to unlink them.”

  “Not so easy for me, not after thirty-six questions, not now.”

  “I walk away. We finish this story and we’re done. Phil gets what he wants. You get to shine.” He was a liar, a cheat and a hypocrite.

  She pouted. “That’s win-lose. I want win-win.”

  “Greedy.” Gorgeously so.

  “Why not? The whole reason I’m in the city is greed. Greed for more in my life, more everything.” She shot him a heated look. “More you.”

  His detachment was down to apple core. “How do you think you’re going to solve the problem?”

  “I thought you were supposed to advise me.”