Experiments in Love

Chapter 17

Murphy’s Law of Science #12

“Science never solves a problem without creating ten more.”

[Courtesy of George Bernard Shaw]

Martin flashed a demented grin, eyes on Toni, while keeping the gun trained on BJ as he passed him, spasmodically flexing the fingers of his other hand. Toni looked around for a weapon. She held her fists up in a boxing stance, shouting, “You stay the hell away from me!”

BJ suddenly moved, faster than she believed possible. He spun around as if dancing, somehow seizing Martin’s gun arm, pinning it across his chest. At the same time, BJ’s other arm came up under Martin’s elbow, locking it, and continued upward. The gun clattered to the pavement. Unrelenting, BJ lifted Martin off his feet, all the man’s weight now on his elbow that couldn’t bend. There was a grinding pop and Martin screamed. BJ dropped him. He collapsed in a heap on the ground.

There was blood smeared from BJ’s head wound to the sleeves of his coat, now not only on him, but Martin as well. Martin sat whimpering, holding his arm while BJ picked up the pistol. He released the clip, pocketed it, casually slid the top of the pistol from the bottom, and tossed the pieces in Martin’s lap. Toni could only stare open-mouthed, stunned by the speed things had happened.

Still bleeding down the side of his face, BJ glanced at Toni, but he crouched over Martin, who cringed. BJ reached into Martin’s inside coat pocket and pulled out his wallet. He opened it, studied the contents for a moment and then slid one of his own cards into the wallet. He stuck it back in Martin’s coat and said something quietly, close to Martin’s ear. Martin nodded with jerky motions but ended with a shake of his head.

BJ stood, produced a handkerchief, and pressed it against his temple. Approaching Toni, he said in a dead calm voice, “Are you all right?” His eyes radiated the same chilling blue she’d seen when he’d been angry with her in his dining room. It shook Toni out of her stupor.

“Yes. Yes, of course, I am. You’re the one who needs a hospital.” When Toni tentatively reached up and tried to move his hand to see the wound, BJ backed away.

“No hospitals.” He stood in the semi-dark alley, pale and bloody, looking as approachable as a wounded panther.

She glanced at Martin, who hadn’t moved, crumpled in a tight ball, mumbling, “It shouldn’t have happened.”

What should happen now? Facing BJ, she put her hands on her hips. “I’m taking you to emergency.” He shook his head in denial. She pointed east. “Harborview is close by on Ninth.” She again attempted to put his arm around her shoulder to help him to her car, but he waved her away.

“No hospitals. Not with the scent.” He squinted at her. “And keep your distance too.”

“Screw that, Doctor. You could have a concussion or worse.” This time she forcefully pushed up under his arm, and taking some of his weight on her shoulders, began walking him to the garage. “Look, my condo is closer. We need to at least get you cleaned up. You can wash off the scent before I drive you to Harborview.”

After a moment, he forcibly removed his arm, nearly picking her up off her feet, telling her in no uncertain terms to walk in front of him. His muscle surprised her. Strange, she never truly associated physical strength with him, even sporting his new physique. In the dark, he still radiated the barely contained violence of a provoked predator, so she didn’t argue.

To be honest, she was relieved, not having to risk being affected by his formula, but she kept looking over her shoulder to check on him until he wobbled into the garage and sat in her Volvo. She opened her window as she drove out of the garage.

Out on the street, traffic was slow. Stopped at the light intersecting Stewart Street, Toni turned to BJ. “How did you—where did you learn that move?”

Without looking at her, he opened his window. He shrugged and said, “After the black eye in the bar, I asked Sam to teach me some methods I could use to defend myself. You know, to avoid another black eye.” He removed the handkerchief from his head wound and studied the cut in the visor mirror. “We can see how well that worked out.” His hands were shaking.

“Are you going into shock?”

“What?”

She nodded toward his hands.

“I don’t know.” He gazed at his trembling hands as though they belonged to someone else. “Probably, a reaction to the adrenaline. I’ve never experienced it like this before.”

The signal changed and as she drove on. The streetlights flickered across his face. Toni saw the glint of tears. “Are you crying?” She expected BJ to dismiss it as another adrenaline reaction.

“Yes, I am.” He wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his beautiful coat, now blotched and discolored with his blood. He took a ragged breath. “I’ve never purposely hurt anyone in my life.” After a moment, he shook his head. “I was much weaker when I learned that defensive technique.” He ran his sleeve over his face again. “I didn’t mean to dislocate his elbow.” He gave a dry laugh. “I guess I don’t know my own strength.”

“Well, I’m glad it was him and not you.”

BJ nodded but said nothing more.

Mentally reviewing BJ’s actions in the alley at the next light, she thought of something else to keep his mind off his wound. “Okay, so where did you learn to take that gun apart?’ Toni mentally cringed. She was going into lawyer mode.

She answered her own question at the same time BJ did: “Sam.” BJ smiled. “Yes, he has a nine-millimeter Sig Saur that he showed me how to disassemble and clean. He likes guns far more than I do.”

“Geesh, how many times did you practice taking it apart to learn that trick?”

“Once.”

Toni glanced at him when he didn’t say more. With his expression hidden by the shadows, she couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. Once? She parked in her building’s underground garage, and they got into the elevator. Toni hoped they wouldn’t see anyone. A physically intimidating, bloody BJ would terrify anyone. Looking at his cut temple when he pulled away the handkerchief to check it in the elevator mirror, she said, “That isn’t too deep, though it’s long. I think I can butterfly it shut.”

BJ gazed at her for a moment and then gave her a half-smile. “Do you have medical training I don’t know about?”

“Sports, my good man. You learn all sorts of first aid about concussions and such playing college ball.” She showed him a scar along her hairline and another under her chin. Looking up, she frowned at the slow advance of the floors. As usual, the elevator was creeping along.

In the confined space, she thought of holding her breath, though she didn’t feel anything out of the ordinary. Looking at BJ’s coat, she remembered the wallet. “What did you say to that Martin guy? And for the love of Mary, why did you slip him your card?”

BJ continued to watch elevator floor numbers change. “I told him that I didn’t want to ever see him again. I gave him the card so he could bill me for his medical expenses.”

“And he shook his head at that?”

“At my offer to take him to emergency.”

Toni pulled up a corner of her mouth thoughtfully but didn’t comment further. The elevator finally got to the tenth floor without anyone joining them. With no one in the hall, they quickly walked down to her apartment. As she retrieved her keys from her purse, BJ said, “Martin is a private detective.”

Toni dropped her keys. “What?”

“Martin Proski. The license in his wallet said he’s employed by a company called Murda Security.”

Toni swore vehemently until she saw BJ’s raised eyebrows. “Sorry. Bateman hired Martin to follow us. The bastard knew what we were doing tonight and couldn’t leave well enough alone. His meddling could have gotten us killed.”

“Or Martin,” BJ said, baring his teeth. Toni blinked in surprise at the vehemence of his comment. He loomed over her, the hallway feeling suddenly very cramped. BJ displayed a glower radiated a willingness to kill. He glanced at her, and whatever he saw made him step back to let her key her door. “I don’t think Martin planned to attack us,” he said with a perplexed frown.

Toni closed her eyes. “Of course not. Martin knew he’d screwed up by getting involved. He didn’t understand why he’d acted the way he did. That’s why he kept repeating, ‘It shouldn’t have happened.’ I think I saw your formula affecting all the woman and men standing near you. Not just the brunette at the bar.”

With a shocked groan, BJ leaned against the wall. “I should have considered that possibility.” He hit the wall with his open hand, leaving a smattering of blood. “Any number of women would have been giving off their own pheromones, in greater volume, in response, probably flooding the close confines of the bar.” He slapped his thigh, an embarrassed frown settling on his face. “I saw them flashing display behaviors. Their scents would trigger a competitive stance in men when women around them were aroused.”

Toni looked askance at him. “Seriously? Display behaviors? Aroused? You make it sound like a nature study.”

He raised his eyebrows, saying, “You saw them tonight.”

Bemused, Toni shook her head at him.

BJ rubbed around his uninjured temple, looking deflated. “I made a serious error. It probably affected me too. His arm . . .”

His crestfallen expression prompted Toni to make soothing noises as she ushered him into her apartment.

He stopped in her expansive living room. Views of the Seattle lights could be seen through the row of windows on the far side. The dining room and kitchen were open to the living room. There were no couches, only plush chairs. She wondered what BJ would think of it all.

She kicked off her shoes next to the door and left him to get the first aid supplies in the bathroom. He was in her private sanctuary. Of all her friends and dates, only Rena had been in her condo.

When she came back, he’d left his shoes at the door and was peering at all the photographs and mementos hung on the walls. She set the first-aid basket on the kitchen counter and watched him, feeling very odd, self-conscious that he was in her home but excited at the same time.

In his stocking feet, tall and broad-shouldered, his suit and face smeared dark with his own blood, BJ was again a stranger. Combined with his intent, smiling expression, completely immersed in studying one photo after another, his appearance struck her as comically bizarre.

He pointed to one picture and asked, “Are these your brothers and father around you?”

She frowned. One reason she didn’t invite men up to her condo was to avoid such questions, hating how vulnerable his curiosity made her feel. “Yes.” This was her private retreat from the world, everything an expression of herself, there for her pleasure, not anyone’s edification.

“Their body language and the way they are arrayed around you certainly looks very protective. They’re all big men.”

She knew her first-time story was the reason for the antagonism in his tone. “Uh, yes, my mother was also tall.”

He glanced at her for a moment and then saw a large picture of her basketball team on the far wall. He walked over and silently gazed at it.

“I was a member of the Stanford Women’s Basketball Team,” Toni said. “The picture is my senior year after we advanced to the finals.”

“Yes, I remember.”

She wasn’t sure she’d heard him correctly. “You remember?”

He nodded. “I was at Stanford that year. Someone I worked with at the labs, Rudy Lee, invited me to one of your basketball games early in the season. I’d never been to one and didn’t know the sport. After that, I attended every home game. Your team was exciting to watch. You were a brilliant point guard.”

She stared at him. “Two years ago, you knew who I was when we met about your contract?”

“Yes.” He cocked his head at her questioning expression. “You certainly didn’t know me, so I saw no point in mentioning it.”

Well, of all the . . . “Do you follow the Seattle teams, the Supersonics or the Storm?”

“No. Just your team while I was at Stanford.” He moved on to another picture of her taking a shot during the playoffs.

“Not the men’s team?”

“I saw one game. They weren’t as much fun to watch,” he said with a half-smile, “maybe because they didn’t win many games that year.”

Or because her teammates were women? She studied him wondering. “What, you had a crush on one of my team members?” She kicked herself mentally.

“You mean, did I have a crush on you?” he said, still looking at photos.

Toni’s mouth fell open as she struggled with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean . . .” She admitted defeat. “Well, did you?”

BJ glanced at her, and without any break in his composure, said, “No, I don’t think so. I certainly enjoyed watching you play, but home games were convenient as I lived on campus and the women’s games weren’t as crowded with less expensive tickets.”

Toni grunted at the truth of his last statement, including when the team went to the finals, then looked at him hard. “What do you mean, you don’t think so? You aren’t sure?” Toni belatedly remembered that he had been younger and undernourished at the time.

Still surveying the photos, BJ shrugged. “If I understand the term ‘crush’ correctly, the only one I experienced was when I was ten. One of my nannies was CoCo Valez, a college student.” With a small smile he gazed off for a moment. “She was the definition of sensual. I was in the throes of blind infatuation for months until she left for grad school.” He shrugged with a wry twist of his mouth. “Not even a kiss goodbye when I cried and gave her flowers.” He glanced at Toni again. “The foolishness of such behavior was made very clear to me.”

Thankful for the change of focus, Toni said, “So, at ten you decided to turn off the infatuation faucet?”

“Something like that. Unrequited love is wasted emotion, wasted energy.”

“Just like that?” He gave a distracted shrug as he continued to survey the photos. Toni stared at him. What kind of child was he? How did that lead to the man he was becoming now?

He pointed to another picture of the game where she was taking a shot surrounded by USC players. “That final game, USC worked hard to shut you down.”

She frowned. “Uh, yeah, their double-teaming was frustrating. When that didn’t work, they tried to force me to foul out.”

“Well, they knew you were the linchpin of the Stanford team. Every time you left that game, Stanford’s teamwork suffered. I think that’s why you lost.”

Warmed by his praise, she shook her head. “It was a close game, but we couldn’t make the points.”

He raised an eyebrow. “True. I was simply stating why your team couldn’t make the points.”

All she could think of to say was “Oh.” The college men she knew never noticed her efforts to support the teamwork on the court. What they saw were the number of points she put up or how many rebounds she snagged. Self-conscious under his gaze, Toni went down the hall, and pulled out towels. Back in the kitchen, she fussed searching for the butterfly strips and antiseptic in the first aid basket. “BJ, how are you feeling?”

He looked down at himself. “Bloodstained and aching.”

“No dizziness or blurred vision? No sudden desire to sleep?”

“Fully conscious and clear-sighted, Doctor.”

Toni smiled at his cheerful tone, setting out a glass of water and pills. “Here are two Ibuprofen. Shuck the suit and go have a shower. Wash out the wound.” She tossed him a small towel, saying, “—to stem the bleeding afterward. Scrub that scent off you while I see if I can get the blood out of your suit and shirt.”

“Doesn’t the suit need to be dry-cleaned?”

“I have something I use in the dryer. It’ll be a start to a more thorough dry-cleaning.”

He smiled. “And what do I wear in the meantime?”

“There are large towels in the bathroom,” she said pointing down the hall, “and you still have your boxers. You weren’t shy taking a swim.”

“Well, if you don’t mind, I don’t. Where should I put my clothes?”

“There’s a sink in the laundry room.”

“Wow, you have an actual laundry room. Impressive apartment.”

“It’s a condominium, smart guy.”

“Extraordinary condominium then.”

“Shut up and get to it, Starling.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He removed his coat, shirt, tie, and pants right there and trotted into the laundry room.

Toni busied herself in the kitchen, pulling out cups, coffee, and other paraphernalia to simply avoid watching him undress in her living room.

“I don’t drink coffee, Toni.”

She automatically looked up and there he stood perfectly cut, magnificent in his boxers—in her living room. Toni realized she wasn’t breathing and expelled the air in a rush. “Uh, well, will tea do? Cocoa?” She collected herself enough to add with a half-smile, “I have little marshmallows.”

BJ chuckled and heading down the hall to the bathroom, called out over his shoulder with a teasing grin, “Surprise me.”

“BJ?” She bit her lip, but she had to nail this down. When he turned and came back, she said, “You can’t let Bateman get his hands on either of your formulas. You know that now, don’t you?”

“Yes, I realize that.” He cocked his head, a calm, soft smile on his lips. It was a considered, reassuring expression, one only for her. That look proved far more potent with him regarding her in his shorts. The answering flutter in her stomach surprised her, words failing her. He finally nodded and as he disappeared down the hall, he said, “Toni, trust me. Bateman will never be able to use them.”

Toni sighed and relaxed at his words, grateful, but frowned at what that meant for her. She knew. She wouldn’t get another shot at the lead counsel position, not now.

The realization stung deep, giving up that goal after all her years of planning and work. After a moment thinking about who Bateman and the Board were, she clenched her teeth. The hell with the lead counsel. Did she really want to work with those bastards? Though she thought she’d already answered that question a week ago, she suddenly felt adrift, as though the rudder on her lifeboat had fallen off.

Tamping down the impression, Toni laid out the cocoa mix and marshmallows, then picked up his clothes. Out of sheer curiosity, she stuck her face in his shirt and took a deep breath. She could smell the salt-copper tang of blood but was there something underneath that scent? Whatever it was, she liked it.

Staring at the shirt, Toni swore. What an idiot move, Crenshaw. The sex scent could still remain. She couldn’t believe how she ended up saying or doing impulsively moronic things around Starling, when she wasn’t just being irritating.

Toni left the shirt in the sink, and plopped his suit and tie in the dryer, stuffed inside a dry-cleaner bag. The domestic familiarity grew as she sprayed the dried blood with a stain remover and began soaking the shirt in cold water. Growing up, her brothers were always getting hurt. If someone wasn’t bleeding, they weren’t having fun. Too often, she’d been relegated to the family’s domestic help, when her brothers weren’t tormenting her to the point she slugged one of them, drawing blood herself one or two times.

Yet, there was a comfort in handling his clothing, feeling the sleek fabric, a seductive intimacy she’d determinedly avoided since leaving home. She didn’t do things for men, particularly household chores. Yet, here she was washing BJ’s clothes. Disconcerted, she bit her lip and left the shirt to soak while she finished the coffee for herself and heated a teapot of water—another domestic task.

The sound of the shower running, knowing the man was naked in her home kept her shaking off images of BJ wearing nothing but his boxers in the middle of her living room. She caught herself standing with a cup of water poised over the teapot staring into space before she was finished. Toni shook her head to clear it. She was a grown woman, experienced, not a gawky teenager.

When had BJ stopped being a harmless geek? Or had he ever been harmless? She knew it wasn’t the scent, even if she had smelled it on his shirt. She felt nothing and knew any effects would dispel with distance as quickly as they had at the Alibi . No, if she was honest with herself, the sex scent had been an excuse all along to avoid the obvious. He wielded an attraction she’d never felt before and since her meeting with him six months ago, he kept amping up the voltage.

Considering why BJ intrigued her kept her woolgathering while she found the sugar and cream. He hadn’t blinked at her question about having a crush on her at Stanford. Had he nurtured a thing for her after Stanford? That would be a reason not to mention watching her play. Yet, he said ‘unrequited love’ was a waste of emotion. Could anyone turn it off so completely?

She ran her fingers through her hair, noticing the tangles. The idea that her hair had been a mess all that time, made her wonder what BJ thought of her as a woman. Regardless, if he had been interested in her, once he experienced her many sharp edges, all she incited was his anger.

When she had his shirt washed and hung up, she stopped in her bedroom to do something with her hair. Staring at herself, she swore, seeing she still had his dried blood dotting the side of her face. BJ hadn’t said a word. She went out to the kitchen and began wiping it off with a wet paper towel. BJ emerged from the bathroom in his boxers and a towel over his shoulders, holding his socks.

While she finished wiping her face, he placed the socks over a chair. He sat on a bar stool at the counter, and silently watched her. Trying to avoid his gaze, she placed a cup in front of him and waved a hand at several boxes of tea and the cocoa. “Which would you like?” When he didn’t answer, she looked up at his head wound rather than be snared by his blue eyes.

“Damn it.” Blood continued to run down his face, and he didn’t seem to notice. Toni pushed the first-aid tub across the counter and came around to stand next to him. With him sitting on the high bar stool and her standing, she still had to look up at his forehead.

She wiped the blood away as best she could. Turning him sideways to the bar in the swivel stool to face her, Toni still couldn’t get the angle she needed to properly clean the wound and close it. He was too tall. So close to him, Toni felt the warmth of his still damp body, smelled the clean scent of her soap on him. And there was so much of him, all within reach except his damn cut. Having him bend his head down would only encourage more bleeding.

BJ grinned, watching her fuss as she attempted to find a useful angle on his head. “Do you want me to lie down or sit on the floor?”

“Out of the question. You are not getting blood on my area rug.” Anticipating his next suggestion she said, “Or my chairs. Stay where you are.”

Why is this such a problem? Screw it. She pushed the cups back on the counter and sat on the cleared space in front of BJ, motioning him to face her, and move the stool closer. She placed her feet on both sides of the barstool outside his thighs.

With the first-aid tub within reach, this was much better. “There. Now I can work on that cut properly.” She used several gauze pads to staunch the bleeding. Leaning over him, her dress rode up on her bare thighs, close to his hands resting on his knees, her legs open to him. She mentally chided herself for again being too spontaneous around BJ, not thinking. The scoop neck of the dress draped open right at his eyeline. Too late to change positions now, she was committed.

She worked to ignore the feel of his shoulders brushing her knees, though it made her stomach do a distracting little dance, one she couldn’t help but enjoy. The sensations did slow the pace of her ministrations.

She gazed down at BJ, who looked back with one raised eyebrow, a silent comment on their intimate physical arrangement, but he still wore that appealing, soft smile. She poised the antiseptic and cotton swab over his torn temple. “This is going to sting.”

He gave her a wry twist of his mouth. “Sting away, Doctor.”

BJ grimaced with an “Ow” when she applied it. Smiling at his deadpanned response, she cleaned and dried the tear and then methodically closed the torn edges with butterfly strips, covering them with a square bandage. He looked heroic with his white badge of courage.

Leaning in close to finish securing the bandage, she became achingly aware of how her sensitive inner thighs rubbed against his warm arms. Her body hummed in response, the solidity of all the sculpted muscle before her making her itch to touch more than his forehead. She was trembling, breathing deep, fumbling unsuccessfully to find a safe place to put her hands. Their eyes locked, hers from above, his gazing up over the rise and fall of her breasts. She finally placed a hand on his chest, hard and smooth under her hand. What was she doing?

He gave her that rare sexy grin, both amused and inviting. “Is this the medical version of a lap dance?” She glanced at his lap, the shorts now rising dramatically.

“No! No, I’m done.” She scrambled back to sit back on the counter, nearly falling. BJ grabbed the underside of one thigh to steady her, his hand surprisingly large and callused.

“Tha—anks, I’ve got it.” She slipped sideways and pushed off the counter landing awkwardly. Getting her balance and tugging down her skirt, she stammered, “You”—pointing to the bandage— “You’ll have something to talk about tomorrow.” Face prickling with embarrassment, she waved a hand at the hot water, cocoa, and teas. “There, you, you have a decision to make.”

“Yes, I guess I do.” He stood and joined her in the kitchen, walking up close. She froze. Looking at the sink next to her, he retrieved the wet paper towel she’d used and gently wiped her forehead at the hairline. “You missed some spots.”

With this big, beautiful man stroking her forehead, nearly touching her with his naked chest, blocking her view of anything else, her brain shuddered to a stop. She stared, lost in the smooth flow of muscles from shoulder to chest for what seemed ages, need coursing through her. She looked up into his eyes when he’d said nothing more. Her breath stopped, seeing her desire mirrored in his eyes.

The heat of the man! Toni backed away, but the counter blocked her retreat. She didn’t want to push him away, did she? She wanted him. She finally admitted it. She’d been in this situation with other men, and she’d invited it. So, why was this different?

BJ slowly brought his hands up to the sides of her face and threaded them through her hair. The sensations were tornadoes whipping through her, so violent it made her tremble. His face close to hers, he whispered, his voice deep and dark, “I want you, Toni.”

His words created a tingle, starting at her toes, curling them, ending with goosebumps on her arms.

“I see your desire, I feel it.” His blue eyes caught hers. “You are the most exciting woman I’ve ever met. I want you, here, now.” He lowered his head closer. “I need to know, Toni, what is your answer. Yes? Or no?”

God, when had he become so commanding? She opened her mouth to say something, anything as he slowly brought his lips within a touch of hers and waited, the question in his eyes.