Chapter 6
Murphy’s Laws of Romance #3
“Money can’t buy you love, but it sure gets you a great bargaining position.”
The sun warmed a gorgeous May morning so instead of driving the company Volvo, Toni had removed the top of her Jeep Wrangler. That required her hair to be tied back in a ponytail, but hey, she was only seeing Starling, Neuter Boy.
East on I-90 toward Lake Sammamish, the fir, cedar, and pine trees were like deep, green carpets rolling over the range of hills and mountains to the east, softening their rocky contours. The air blowing on her face felt crisp and clean. Though not her plan for Saturday, the drive proved restorative.
She decided to take the long way around the Lake, steering north through the lush, green canopy of trees following the winding west shore past Redmond, all the houses huddled along the lake. The police and any locals whose car happened to be in front of her strictly enforced the 35-m.p.h. speed limit, so she enjoyed the relaxed, meandering drive through the wooded shoreline.
She smiled. It felt so freeing to leave the city, the office, and her family troubles behind. She hadn’t been able to reach her sister-in-law, or even Mario, and that worried her, particularly when Jane remained a stay-at-home mom. She let it go. No point in agonizing over it now, not on such a beautiful day. Besides she had a more immediate challenge: Starling. It didn’t take as long as she wished to reach his new digs.
The East Lake Sammamish Parkway bordered the water, weaving between wide views of the lake near wooded properties sheltering magnificent houses. What was Starling doing out here?
She’d called him, but Sam Banks had answered. He’d assured her that ‘Doc’ would be in when she arrived. She wrinkled her nose remembering the reverence in Banks’ voice when speaking about Starling. He appeared to be a simple, solid good-old-boy type, from the Midwest, she remembered. So why were he and Starling friends? Were they in deep cahoots with a competitor or could Sam be taking advantage of an innocent Starling?
When she found the right driveway on Lake Sammamish Place, she worked hard not to be impressed. According to multiple listings she’d seen last night, the house covered better than 5,000 square feet but the pictures hadn’t given any idea of the extensive property, considering how little shoreline lay between road and the lake. Brick and iron gates stood open at the beginning of Starling’s property. The driveway wound around trees and a secluded garden, ending in an expansive lawn framing a circular paved area. Unlike the other Alpine-styled houses in the area, Starling’s was a sprawling Mediterranean with a tiled roof.
The white stucco walls gleamed in the sun. A four-car garage and what appeared to be a guest house were set off to one side. A pickup and a van were parked opposite. A covered grand entrance led to large, oak-framed, cut-glass doors. Through the glass, she could make out skylight patterns of sunshine across the polished wood floor.
Toni took this all in, impressed, astonishingly so. Surveying everything, what mystified her more proved to be the impeccable style and wealth displayed by Starling. It didn’t make any sense. The place certainly wouldn’t have been Sam Banks’ choice. If he’d been left to deal with reality, her guess would have been a doublewide. She grimaced at the catty thought, a sure sign of nerves.
She straightened her blue blouse, then opened several buttons down to reveal the tan chemise underneath. She even brushed off her jeans before ringing the doorbell.
Sam Banks opened the door, beaming a wide smile as though overjoyed to see her, as he had when she’d met him to go over his Starling-instigated sabbatical. He wore shorts and a green Sounder’s T-shirt. Banks exuded an aura of ‘jock’ as bright as any she’d seen at Stanford. He invited her in and led her past generous rooms, including an enclosed garden area, and kitchen off the hall, which led into the center of the house. Sam left her to make lunch.
Three men were installing exercise equipment on mats in the middle of a ballroom-sized parquet floor. There was every kind of exercise machine and weights. Clanking metal and the buzz of electric tools didn’t echo, but quickly softened to a muffled sigh, probably from excellent acoustics. Floor-to-ceiling storm windows and oak bookshelves stuffed with books and file binders surrounded the entire room. More free-standing bookshelves framed two sides of the area where the exercise machines were being set up.
Obviously, the main room in the house, its few exposed walls were painted white, complementing the golden warmth of the oak paneling, floor, and furniture. Blue, orange-cream, and white accents were everywhere, including several large paintings and photos. She loved the house, particularly the windows all around that let in the light and views of the stunning grounds and lake. Toni could hear a recording of blues singer belting out an old love song, giving a ‘Gatsby’ feel to the place.
The scents in the air were strangely familiar. Nutmeg and lemon dominated, but the subtle combinations were very pleasant. Was someone baking? She set down her briefcase, and sighed, feeling herself unwind. She’d woken up tense and stiff because of last night’s confrontation with Bateman. The dream and finally the phone call from her father only piled on the tension of having to see Starling. Like snow in sunlight, those stresses all melted away.
One of the workers assembling a weight machine stood and faced her. He was tall and wore the typical Seattle tuxedo: tennis shoes, sweatpants, and T-shirt. Lean, but broad-shouldered, he obviously benefited from the equipment he was installing for Starling. Adding to that impression was an athlete’s buzz cut and light tan, all of which highlighted his bright eyes and white, welcoming grin. As he approached her, Toni felt herself automatically smile in return. He stopped in front of her and said “Hi” in such a warm tone that she stood for a moment basking in it. This guy, she wanted to know.
Then she finally noticed his left eye. A black and blue semicircle colored the cheek below it. How had she missed that? She impulsively put her hand out and touched his cheek. “Are you all right?” He froze and stepped out of reach.
Embarrassed, Toni said, “Excuse me. It looked painful, that’s all.” She moved closer to place a hand on his arm to reassure him. “Uh, is Dr. Starling available? We have an appointment.”
His grin returned. “Standing in front of you, Ms. Crenshaw.”
Bewildered, she stepped back and stared at him. She then recognized the same square jaw, narrow nose, and piercing blue eyes. His face had filled out, rounding the harsh angles, and without his thick glasses, his pasty skin now sporting an even tan, the combination rendered him barely recognizable.
“Would you like something to drink?”
“Uh, yeah,” she said without taking her eyes off him. “Something strong.”
With a frown, Starling cocked his head. “What did you have in mind?”
“Scotch.”
He called out, “Sam?”
“Yeah, Doc?” Sam answered from the kitchen.
“Do we have any scotch?”
“You bet. A thirty-year old Brora, the best.” As Sam entered the room again, Starling gave him a questioning look. “Hey, you said I could stock up on liquor.”
Starling nodded, saying, “Well, I’m glad you did,” and returned to gaze at Toni. “She would like a glass.” The two men stood silently waiting on her. Weird. Banks was acting like Starling.
She finally came to. “Oh, neat, no ice.”
Sam said, “You got it,” and left.
She and Starling didn’t say anything immediately, but after a moment, he asked, “What do you think of the house?”
“Are you kidding?” She patted his arm. “I love it.” She pointed at the large fireplace positioned between two picture windows. “It is very homey for being so huge, kind cozy.”
“Cozy.” Starling gave fleeting look of recognition, but before Toni could ask why, Sam returned with the drink. Toni threw it back in one gulp. It helped, going down velvet and fire. She handed the glass back to Sam with “Thanks, it was good.” He grinned at her and left, shaking his head.
Starling and Toni returned to gazing at each other. He had on his innocent puppy face, but without the glasses, it proved endearing. As she appreciated his smile, his bright eyes, Starling appeared far more appealing than two months ago.
She stepped closer and put a friendly hand on his arm again. “What’s going on? How can you afford this house?”
A slow grin emerged as Starling stepped closer. He looked at her hand on his arm and suddenly frowned as if in pain. “Let’s go upstairs.” Breaking contact, he led her up a beautiful winding golden oak staircase to the second floor.
Toni tamped down the burn of rejection when he stepped away from her touch. On the second floor to her right a massive bedroom seemed to cover half of the entire upper floor with a huge bed and bathroom, a Jacuzzi, and a small steam room, all viewed through open double doors, pulled back as if he never closed them. If any other man had led her here with the inviting bedroom displayed, she’d have been on guard, but Starling? No, not a chance. He felt that safe and transparent.
The scents were fainter upstairs, but still pleasant. Starling picked up a magazine on a side table and opened another set of glass double doors, which led outside to an extensive, tiled, Mediterranean-style patio sitting above the first floor with a panoramic view of the lake and surrounding woods. Splendid in every way, the terrace sported potted plants, umbrellas, a gas heater, and classy black iron furniture upholstered in blue and cream. He pointed her to a padded chair at one table and then sat across from her, laying the magazine down on the table. Her chair rocked on its base, a cool touch.
Starling smiled at her discovery and leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. Such a natural action compared to his stiff movements two months ago had Toni looking to assure herself that he was indeed Dr. Starling.
“Not convinced?”
She started at his too astute question, righting herself in the chair. “Not quite.” Toni eyed him while she set her briefcase on the glass topped table and said, “You must admit, you don’t . . .” She paused, disgusted with her fumbling. “What happened to your glasses, your hair?” She pursed her lips and waved a hand at the expensive surroundings. “Dr. Starling, how did you get this house?” She waved a hand at him. “Seriously, what the hell have you been up to?”
He grinned at her questions, raising an eyebrow in amused silence. Toni thought, Look at that, a new expression. Damn, Starling could be a hot item with work—and a clue.
“To answer your questions in order: laser surgery, a haircut, a good realtor, and two months under Sam’s care.” He shrugged. “It seems I never ate in a healthy fashion, never exercised, nor spent any time outdoors.”
She raised an eyebrow herself. “Did that regimen include the black eye?”
Starling laughed and then touched his cheek briefly. “No, I received this in a Redmond bar.”
Bowled over, Toni stuttered, “Come again?” Starling’s laugh, surprisingly infectious, wasn’t as disconcerting as hearing he’d been in a bar fight.
Starling leaned forward, placing his forearms on the table. “It wasn’t a fight if that’s what you’re wondering. One of the patrons took exception to the attention his girlfriend was giving me.”
“What?” She shook her head as though to clear it. She had this sudden and sharp desire to go down to that bar and hunt up this ‘patron.’ A civil suit for sure. Surprising herself, she placed her hand over his. “What were you doing in a bar?” She looked at her hand on his as though it was another person’s appendage. Starling’s hand felt solid and big, dusted with soft, blond-brown hair.
She slowly removed her hand from his, wondering what the hell she was doing. She’d warmed to the feel of him. She’d liked the sense of reassurance touching him gave her.
“Give it a moment to wear off, Ms. Crenshaw.”
“What?” Now, really embarrassed, because what she’d done didn’t feel natural. Or had it? Why hadn’t she been surprised that any woman in a bar would be paying attention to him, let alone enough to make a man jealous? “What are you talking about?” She closed her eyes, trying to make sense of her reactions. Hating the muddled, confused feeling, she said, “What the hell is going on?”
“The smells that permeate the house. I brought you up here to get you away from them.”
Toni frowned hard. “The smells?”
“I have my lab downstairs, and the venting system is broken at the moment.”
When she said, “Okay, so?” Starling sighed heavily. “You smelled lemon and nutmeg, didn’t you?” She nodded, not hiding her surprise. He added, “And possibly vanilla and baked bread?”
“Well, yes, I thought Sam might be cooking. Do you cook?”
Starling grinned. “Not yet. Only Sam so far, but I am the one who cooked up the scent. You smelled my newest creation. I went to three bars to test it this week.”
“Doctor, it smells nice, but it’s hardly what a person would wear as perfume or cologne, in the kitchen maybe, but certainly not to a bar.”
Starling nodded and picked up the magazine from the table. He opened it to a marked page, and said, “Read this. I’ll go get a glass of water for you. It will help.” With that, he rose and walked back into the house.
She called after him, “I don’t want any water,” but he was gone. She looked at the magazine and wrinkled her nose. Psychology Now ? Seriously? The article, “The Scent of True Love,” promised more pop psych nonsense, but tossing her ponytail over her shoulder, she started reading it.
He returned with two glasses of water, lemon slices floating in each, and sat down. He didn’t say anything, waiting. She read, sipping the water she didn’t want. When Toni finally looked up, he sat gazing at her with a pleasant but intent expression. Watching what? What was he thinking? His gaze never wavered when her eyes met his. She pushed the magazine aside and leaned forward. “Are you telling me that you have created this ‘lover’s smell?’”
“Yes.”
“Come on, seriously?”
“I am serious, Ms. Crenshaw. You experienced it. Remember how many times you touched me since you arrived. Why?”
“Well, because . . .” Then she paused self-consciously. “I was concerned about your eye.”
“To quote you, ‘seriously?’” He waited a moment. “I certainly couldn’t have appeared to be suffering. At first, you didn’t even notice the black eye.”
“Hey, I’m a physical person. Is it so odd that I would be concerned about you?” Yet she’d never had any desire to touch him before. She’d thought of him more as a problem than a person. Or had she? Damn it!
Starling stared at the tabletop with a sad expression, one she hadn’t seen before. He looked up, resignation in his eyes. “Ms. Crenshaw, the only reason you are here is because the board didn’t know where I was. They want to know what I’m doing.”
Toni felt her mouth move but didn’t have words to put in it. His assessment was blunt and dead on. Finally, she raised her chin, and said, “True, but certainly concern for and curiosity about a valuable employee motivated them too.”
He studied her for a moment. “And you?”
She smiled, gazing at him through her eyelashes. “I was concerned when I heard you’d left no forwarding address.”
In a flat tone, Starling said, “You don’t like me, Ms. Crenshaw, so why the concern?”
His certitude stung, though guessing what she’d specifically done made her cheeks burn. “I’m sorry I gave you that impression. I don’t dislike you.”
“Is that why you felt the need to lay your hand on me more than once a minute in the first three minutes of your arrival?”
Angry and embarrassed by his needling, she stood and retreated to the terrace railing. Down below, a big blue swimming pool sparkled. It irritated her further. “So, you and Sam were carrying out an experiment on me?” she said, still looking at the vista of pool and lake. “Is that it?”
“No.” He walked to the railing several feet away and leaned on it with his elbows. “I wasn’t experimenting on you. I didn’t expect to see you today. Sam and I have been living with the smells for a few days now, so we forgot. You are the first woman to visit here.”
Toni took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to cleanse her senses, her emotions, her mind. It was frightening how his concoction worked. “So, you were wearing this scent at the bar?” She turned to face him. “And that resulted in your black eye?”
He stood, his face tight. “I didn’t do anything to gain that woman’s attention if that is your question. I wouldn’t know how. I sat by her so she could smell the scent and she began talking to me.” He fingered his eye. “I had no idea a man could be so territorial, so quickly about a woman.”
She studied him with pitying disbelief. “You didn’t? Where have you been?”
“The fifteenth-floor labs.”
With a shake of her head at the undeniable truth of his statement she turned back to gaze at the lake. “Well, I certainly wasn’t falling in love with you, Dr. Starling.”
“No. The compound doesn’t work that way.”
“It doesn’t? I thought you said it was a ‘love scent.’”
“No, you did.”
“Uh, all right, so, how does it work?”
“The scent creates ‘cozy’ feelings, to use your term. At the primary level, the combination of odors triggers a significant release of Oxytocin and complimentary endorphins stimulating the amygdala and hypothalamus.”
At Toni’s questioning expression, he said, “Oxytocin is called the cuddling hormone, and among other responses generates feelings of peace and security. It is quite remarkable how well it works at that level. In the past, researchers have tried to isolate specific chemicals as pheromones and failed. I’ve discovered they proved to be a delicate combination of steroids and hormones—scents—that are the triggers, the so-called ‘releaser pheromones.’” At Toni’s blank expression, he frowned, as though surprised by her incomprehension.
“The preoptic area of the hypothalamus harbors cells releasing a luteinic hormone which triggers other hormones and a mediating estrogen feedback.”
Toni scrunched up her face skeptically. “What in the hell does that all mean?”
After turning and staring at the lake for a time, elbows on the railing, he focused on her again. “Humans, particularly women, seem to be far more exacting in their pheromone requirements than most mammals.” He gestured toward the house. There is a compilation of studies that covers the science in one book, the Neurobiology of Chemical Communication. I can loan it to you, if you like.”
“Uh, no, thank you.”
Starling gave a nod and leaned toward her, forearm on the balustrade. “From the surveys we have been giving and my experiments in the field, women report feeling safe, warm, and comfortable around men under the influence of the aroma, as you were downstairs.
“A number of women described me as reminding them of their brother, a favorite uncle, or close male friend, but never in a romantic or sexual way. The scent relegates men to what I understand is called ‘the friend zone.’ Not enough of the right hormones and enzymes were stimulated to arouse romantic or sexual interest.”
“Exactly how many women have you ‘interviewed’?”
“Sam and I ran several tests duplicating the study in the magazine. Three hundred and twenty women. And then over one hundred and seventy once I distilled the scent.”
Toni stared at him. “That’s what you’ve been doing this last two months?”
“No, I started with Sam more than four months before I sent my letter to the Board.” When he saw her incredulous expression, he shrugged. “We worked evenings and weekends, but then Sam showed me that article,” he said, gesturing to the magazine, “two months ago and that changed everything.”
He turned around and leaned his back and elbows on the concrete, Italian-style balustrade in a typical male slouch, and continued. “When I had isolated the common compounds among the hundreds of men, I started going to malls and bars wearing my formula, interviewing women, and noting their reactions. With the ‘cozy scent,’ women were more than happy to talk to me.” He looked off into space for a moment and then beamed. “ Cozy would be a good name for the cologne.”
He studied her for a moment with that uncomfortably fixed gaze, and said, “Women found me ‘friendly and easy to talk to’ under its influence.” He offered a small smile, pointing to his black eye. “Of course, it doesn’t work on men.” He gave a shrug. “The scents do register with them but have little effect.”
Toni reviewed her behavior around him earlier, appalled. Damn, the stuff was insidious. She’d been manipulated by a smell? A jolt of alarm rocketed through her, igniting her deeper mistrust of men.
She turned to him. “Are you sure about the lack of romantic feelings?” Defensive over his accurate assessment of her mission here, her generated feelings about him, under the influence of his cologne , she wanted to retaliate. “As a test subject, you’re hardly a woman’s romantic ideal.”
He nodded as though she had told him it was going to rain. “We had Sam and friends of his try it too. Always the same result. Women found the men friendly, safe, and took an instant liking to them, but nothing romantic.” He grinned. “Some of the men found that very frustrating.”
He paused thoughtfully. “But you are correct about my appearance and general demeanor. Sam has noted the same thing.” He gave her a quizzical half-smile. “I am totally ignorant when it comes to romance, attracting women, or relationships in general.”
No shit, Einstein. Apparently, it was impossible to embarrass someone so . . . so . . . what? Clueless? No, that didn’t fit. What did? She stared at the patio floor of blue-laced white tile. Was that her embarrassment talking? She glanced at him. Perhaps, she was being too hard on him. He seemed sincere, uncomfortably direct, and benign. Or were those thoughts the result of his ‘scent’? Crap!
She glowered at him and waved her hand, taking in the entire property. “Where in the hell did you get the money for this house, a year’s sabbatical, the cost of carrying out all that research—a lab, for Christ’s sake?”
He turned to look out at the lake and after a minute said, “My parents died in a car accident when I was fifteen. I’d been at M.I.T. for over two years by then. The settlement money, two life insurance policies, the sale of their properties, and such was placed in a trust until I turned eighteen, and then I invested it. I never needed much with scholarships for my education and summer work.
“My second doctorate was a fellowship at Stanford. I audited a few classes on economics and finance. Much of the money I’ve earned in the last five years working for Rayaneta also went into investments.” He gave her a shy smile as though self-conscious about the subject. “Last time I reviewed my portfolio, which was two months ago, I’d accrued about twenty-five million, before subtracting the cost of this house and such.”
Toni leaned back, mouth open. Holy shit!
He shrugged. “For the last few months, Carol has managed my financial holdings.” He offered an engaging lopsided smile when she raised an eyebrow. “My CPA and financial advisor. I’ve been busy spending it on the house, experiments, and Sam’s exercise program and diet.”
He stepped away from the railing and threw his elbows out, twisting at the waist. “I do feel different, better.” Pausing to look at her again, Starling waited for any response, but Toni didn’t know what to say.
He nodded as though he understood. “Well, back to work. You can take that article and report what I’ve told you to the board.” With that, he walked back into the house.
Toni trotted after him. “Hold up. If the scent doesn’t work, what are you going to do now?”
He stopped and regarded her. “Oh, it works, just not across any sexual dimension. My goal is to create scents that attract women romantically. I’m close, but still have a great deal of work to do.”
Turning to leave, he paused at the top of the stairs and looked back at her with that penetrating, crystalline-blue gaze of his as though she had his full and undivided attention. Toni found it increasingly unnerving, like being the target of a roving spotlight and camera at a basketball game.
“Ms. Crenshaw, I’ve heard you are rather gifted when it comes to the romantic activities between men and women.”
She blinked at the statement. “What the hell does that mean?”
“Only that you have valuable experience and knowledge. Would you be interested in helping me with those aspects of my work? Sam is unable to explain women and the dynamics of heterosexual relationships to me though he has two sisters. I would pay for your time, of course.”
Toni couldn’t believe her ears. The conniving bastard . Through tight lips she said, “Oh, no, Dr. Starling. I am not helping you seduce women with your chemistry set.” She grabbed her briefcase and the magazine, stomped by Starling, still standing at the head of the stairs, and marched out of the house. The idea of him concocting a sex scent to seduce women the way his ‘cozy’ scent had manipulated her. God, it scared her shitless. Starling himself frightened her almost as much.