Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
“It wasn’t necessary for you to pick me up in a limousine.
” She rushed down her walk to the driveway before Trent could get to her front door.
She couldn’t face introducing him to her mother.
Couldn’t face him seeing the extent of the illness, didn’t want to see the sympathetic expression on his face, watch him wonder if she held the awful fate in her genes, doomed to pass it on.
But she wouldn’t pass it on. If she were ever unwise enough to marry, she would never be unwise enough to have children.
Not until she had the cure—sure and complete—in her hands and ready to administer aboveboard and legally.
That’s where she shut down her thoughts, not wanting to own up to whether or not that might happen before she was past childbearing years. Before her mother could be saved
“What’s the matter, Charlie? Everything okay? I thought I might meet your family . . . are they all right?”
“No—Yes. Of course. My family is fine. I’m fine.” She had no idea what she was saying except that it was all lies. And he knew it. She brushed past him and he placed an arm around her, drawing her in.
“Don’t worry. I won’t bite,” he whispered.
She scoffed and went to pull the back door of the limo open but he covered her hand with his.
Trent’s charm and close attention did nothing to put Charline at ease when they finally walked into the home of the University Research Center’s wealthiest trustee.
The foyer was pillared and tall and tiled in shiny black and white squares reminding her of a pretentious French palace.
Feeling underdressed in her old standby cocktail dress, the only one in her closet, she consoled herself that at least her escort would be the hottest man there.
Too bad this wasn’t a Hollywood party where that might count for something.
This crowd was all about having research chops.
She wasn’t sure she had enough to overcome the handicap of having Dr. Hogarth for an enemy.
Trent let out a low whistle and bent to whisper in her ear, “What the hell, Charlie? Did you take me through a time-space portal to some stodgy old place?”
She compressed a smile as she walked with him through the rotunda-like entry hall into the great room, where about twenty well-heeled guests spoke quietly and sipped drinks.
“Welcome to my world—or at least the world of the University Research Center trustees. We’re on best behavior tonight.
I need to make myself available to answer questions about the research, talk up our progress and breakthroughs to all the board members, or as many of them who are interested. Then we can leave.”
“I thought your research was top secret.”
“It is. I can only speak in general terms. Don’t worry.”
“How about a drink?”
“A drink is my first requirement.”
He laughed, and with a hand firmly planted on a spot slightly south of the small of her back, making her feel branded, singed, he led her straight to the bar. Once they got their drinks and exchanged small talk, she found herself standing on the edge of the room with Trent observing the partygoers.
“Cute blonde approaching at eight o’clock,” he said under his breath.
She watched him take a sip, half looking at her, half watching the said cute blonde.
“I don’t know who she is, but she appears to be with the trustee who owns this house—maybe a daughter.”
Cute Blonde, wearing what appeared to be an oversized pink silk T-shirt for a dress, looked too young to be drinking the drink she was holding, but Charline smiled at her. The smile was wasted since the young woman had eyes only for Trent as she came to stand before them.
“Aren’t you that football player?”
Trent flashed the fan-charmer grin and was about to answer, but Charline didn’t want to deal with a fawning fan tonight, didn’t want to draw attention to herself or her phony engagement.
“No,” she said in a decisive snap. The cute blonde turned to her then as if she hadn’t noticed her before. Trent moved his arm to her shoulder and gave her a squeeze.
“I’m this gorgeous lady’s fiancé.”
“Oh. Sorry . . .” The girl blushed slightly pink and backed away with a wave of her hand.
“Well done,” she whispered under her breath.
“Thanks. At least I didn’t lie.”
“Not if you don’t count the fact that the engagement is phony.”
“I like to think of it as temporary.”
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Enjoying what? I mean besides being on the arm of the belle of the ball?”
She snorted. “I mean you’re enjoying torturing me with the fiancée act.”
Trent was glad he wasn’t the only one who felt tortured. Because her sensual pull was about killing him right now. Lowering his head close enough to her ear so that the fine hair at her temples tickled his nose, he whispered.
“I could eat you whole right now.”
She looked up at him. “What are you, the big bad wolf?”
Letting his eyes graze over the curves revealed by her formfitting dress, he licked his lips. She was plenty curvy for a petite woman.
“What if I am? You going to run and hide? Or are you going to play?”
With satisfaction, he watched the small shudder quake through her as she turned away to pretend she was unaffected.
“Let’s concentrate on making a good, yet understated impression here.”
Sweeping the room, Trent locked on one man who seemed to be staring in their direction, then realized the man was watching Charlie. Or rather drooling over her, based on his expression and surreptitious glances.
“You have any old beaus here tonight, darlin’?”
“What are you talking about?”
“The middle-aged man at three o’clock is drooling in our direction and I can guarantee it’s not because he’s a football fan.” In fact, Trent realized the man looked at Trent as if he was on the FBI’s top-ten most wanted. Recognized and reviled in one fell swoop of his gaze.
“Oh, that’s Frank. His lab is on the same floor as mine.” She waved in his direction—or started to before he caught her hand.
“Don’t you dare fan the flames. I don’t want to have to punch anyone out tonight.”
“You’re crazy. There’s nothing between us. I told you I have a firm policy against office romances. I never date anyone from work. I’m religious about it.”
“Does Frank know about your policy?”
“Everyone knows about my policy.”
“That explains why they think you’re a nun.” He shouldn’t have, but he enjoyed the look of hurt outrage on her face, partly because he was sure it was mock outrage. And partly because her expressive face was one of the seemingly endless list of things about her that gave him a hard-on.
“No one thinks I’m a nun. I’m not crediting Hogarth.”
“How often do you date?”
She looked at him with suspicious eyes. He had no idea why he asked. Maybe to annoy her, maybe because he was genuinely curious.
“Not that it’s your business—”
“Sure it’s my business. I’m your f—cking fiancé. Pardon the pun.”
Her mouth was open and when he thought she was going to say something, she laughed instead.
“I date all the time. Not lately. Because of the drug trial. Because of you. Just because I have a policy of not dating coworkers—”
“It’s funny. You don’t seem to have a policy against dating your research subjects.”
Snapping her eyes to his, he saw with some regret that he’d managed to drain the good humor from her with that.
“I have—had—a date next weekend with a man I met at a medical conference in New York.”
It could have been his imagination, but it felt to him like she’d mentioned her date to spite him. He’d need to watch out for Dr. Snow White. She obviously hadn’t got to where she was by being a pushover.
“Is it serious?”
“No.” She admitted it right away.
“Good. Because while we’re engaged—pretense or not—we’re not seeing anyone else. Not even talking, calling, texting, or emailing anyone else. Period.”
Raising a brow, she gave him a compressed smile. Round one to the pristine little doctor over the big bad football player. He felt a need to change the subject.
“Who’s the small, wiry man zeroing in on us from my right? He looks tense and either excited or extremely agitated about something. Like—”
“Shit. Dr. Hogarth. He recognizes you.”
Trent turned to her. “Darlin’, no cause for alarm. I’ll handle it.”
“No, that’s not—”
She was cut off by her boss, and all the various hints and things she’d said about him came to rest in Trent’s mind behind the gaze he leveled at the man at a severe downward angle.
Trent had no idea why, but it seemed a good percentage of men who bullied women happened to be short-statured and this winner was no exception.
Charlie’s words rang through his head. My boss is blackmailing me.
“There you are, my dear Charline. Arriving fashionably late after so many of our donors have been asking for you.” Hogarth clasped her hands in his and then turned to Trent. “And you’ve surprised us with a stunning choice of escort this evening.”
“Dr. Hogarth, this is—”
“Trent Lockheed. Of course I know who he is.” Hogarth took his beady eyes off him and glanced back at Charlie as if she were a foolish child. Trent told himself to remain calm. He was wearing a tux. This called for the tuxedo version of his normal solution to this kind of problem.
“I read all about your engagement in the newspaper.” Hogarth said the words in a far-from-congratulatory tone, more accusatory.
“You sound surprised,” Trent measured his words and kept a toothy smile aimed at the man.
“I am.”
“I expect you’ll want to congratulate me then.”
Trent reached out his hand so Hogarth had no choice but to take it. The doctor took his hand with reluctance. Smart man. Once Trent had it in his grip he held on and then squeezed. Hard.
“I’m a very fortunate man to have Charlie agree to marry me. She’s devoted so much of her life to her work. But then we have that in common.”
Hogarth said nothing, but his smile was strained. He didn’t struggle in Trent’s grip and didn’t complain.