Marriage In Six Easy Lessons. Mollie Molay

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СКАЧАТЬ felt his temper rise, a luxury he seldom allowed himself, let alone in a professional setting. Not only at April’s opinion of his research methods, but at himself for allowing his attraction to her to influence his professional approach to the subject of the mating game. “You think so, do you?”

      “Yes, I do. My job as your editor is to make constructive suggestions.”

      “That may be your usual job,” he said, distracted by the way April’s eyes seemed to change from brown to shades of green flecked with gold. “But it doesn’t apply here. I repeat—not when the work in question is based on a scientific study.”

      “Maybe,” April said, “although there’s science and there’s science. However, you should be aware that if your article appears in its present form, it’s bound to cause a great deal of controversy. The kind of feedback you might not like to hear.”

      Determined to overlook April’s challenge to his professionalism, Lucas took a deep breath. “I still stand by my work.”

      “Even if I can persuade you otherwise?”

      “Careful, Ms. Morgan.” A calculating smile came over his face. “You’re treading on thin ice. What would you do if I took you up on your offer?”

      April wondered if he actually realized he’d made a sexual innuendo. If so, there had to be more to Sullivan than met the eye. She cleared her throat. “Perhaps we should leave this discussion for tomorrow? It’ll give me time to go over your article more carefully.”

      “Yes, of course.” He rose to his feet. “Not too early, please. I’m going to be up late tonight.”

      “Research?”

      “In a manner of speaking,” he said as he turned to leave.

      April wondered about the glint in his eye.

      “By the way,” she said as she made a show of straightening the manuscript pages, “how was your lunch in the executive dining room?”

      Lucas turned back. “Okay. What makes you ask?”

      “Just okay?” April reached into her purse for a tissue. “Not if you had their chocolate soufflé for dessert.”

      “How did you know?”

      Ignoring the urge to wipe the bit of chocolate off his chin, April handed Lucas the tissue. “You have some chocolate on the corner of your chin. If there’s anything I recognize, it’s chocolate soufflé. It happens to be a favorite of mine.”

      Lucas rubbed at his chin with the tissue and, to her surprise, winked. “I’ll have to remember that important detail—and a few other things, as well.”

      April wondered what he meant by “a few other things.” She only knew that the phrase and the way he delivered it caused butterflies to flutter through her midsection.

      “I’ll call you later this afternoon to make an appointment,” she said.

      “Sorry,” Sullivan said, “but I won’t be home to take the call. Let’s just say I’ll try to be here as early as I can tomorrow morning and leave it at that, all right?”

      He would try? Most academics would give a year’s salary to be published in Today’s World, an eclectic magazine with far more readers than any scientific journal. “What can be more important than our discussing your article?”

      “I play in a small band. We’re practicing this afternoon for a performance tonight.”

      “A chamber music quartet?”

      “Uh, not exactly.”

      The reluctance in Sullivan’s voice whetted April’s curiosity. “How, ‘not exactly’?”

      “Actually, it’s a rock band and I play lead guitar.”

      April didn’t believe him, but she didn’t let on. “Uh, where did you say you were performing tonight?”

      “I didn’t, but we’ll be at the Roxy on the north side of town. Why?”

      “Just curious.” It wasn’t easy for April to keep a straight face when laughter at the absurdity of a serious academic playing in a rock band threatened to overcome her, but she managed. She’d already laughed at one of the man’s endeavors; to laugh at another might totally alienate Sullivan, not to mention cost her her job.

      There must have been something in her voice that made him turn back at the door. “You don’t believe me?”

      “I do. It’s just such a surprise,” she said quickly. “You not only teach, you write. How in heaven’s name do you manage to find time to be in a rock band?”

      “Call it an instinct for survival,” he said, gazing at her as if his mind were a hundred miles away. “Actually, being raised by a strict father to become a successful academic, then getting my advanced degree so I could do research and teach, hasn’t left me a lot of time to pursue music, but music, in particular rock music, is my passion. It’s the one thing I do that satisfies my soul, and I find I must make time for it.”

      Fascinated by the little speech and what it revealed about the man, April tried to imagine the dry and factual world Sullivan had grown up in. Her heart wept at the thought of a child’s yearning for the freedom to express himself that had had to wait until he was a grown man.

      “You must hate your father,” she said softly.

      “No, not at all,” he replied. “And as I get older, I think I actually understand him better. The divorce from my mother damn near bankrupted him financially. And then her accidental death shortly after they reconciled bankrupted him emotionally.”

      April made a sound of sympathy.

      “The only way Dad said he could be sure I would never lose everything I had,” Sullivan continued, “was to see to it I concentrated on my education and to keep women on a back burner.” He shrugged. “I haven’t been exactly overjoyed at the way I live, but I can’t fault him for that. He meant well.”

      April thought of her own childhood. She and her two older brothers had been very competitive, each trying to outdo the other in everything—school, sports and parental attention. Her growing-up years hadn’t been all fun and games, but at least she’d had two loving parents.

      “And so now you have your band,” she said softly.

      His face brightened. “Yeah. I picked up guitar several years back from a friend of mine. Turns out I’m pretty decent at the guitar. It was just a matter of time before two of my friends taught me the ropes and we formed a band. We trade off. They write the music, I write the lyrics. We try to practice a couple of times a week and perform about twice a month. I don’t mind saying we’re pretty good.”

      “And you’re playing tonight.”

      “Yes, but don’t worry, I’ll be ready for you tomorrow morning.”

      Unable to explain her reaction to Sullivan’s unexpected fall from the lofty academic perch on which she’d placed him, April waved him off. “It doesn’t really matter. СКАЧАТЬ