Her hands stilled on the stack of printouts she’d been straightening. What was she thinking of? Sex would only make an already complex situation impossible. But even as she told herself that, she remembered the way Cal had looked today with his shirt off while he’d stood on the ladder and scraped the side of Annie’s house. Watching those muscles bunch and flex every time he moved had made her so crazy she’d finally grabbed his shirt, thrown it at him, and delivered a stern lecture on the depletion of the ozone layer and skin cancer.
Lust. That’s what she was dealing with. Pure, unadulterated lust. And she wasn’t going to give in to it.
She needed something to do that would distract her, so she carried her overflowing trash can downstairs and emptied it in the garage. Afterward, she gazed out the kitchen bay window at the moon and found herself contemplating the ancient scientists-Ptolemy, Copernicus, Galileo-who’d tried to unravel the mysteries of the universe with only the most primitive of instruments. Even Newton couldn’t have envisioned the tools she used, from the powerful computer on her desk to the world’s giant particle accelerators.
She jumped as the door behind her opened, and Cal walked in from the garage. As he moved across the kitchen, it occurred to her that she had never seen a man so at home in his body. Along with his jeans, he wore a wine red hen-ley, the kind made out of waffle-knit underwear fabric, and a black nylon parka. Tiny needle-points of sensation prickled at her skin.
“I thought you’d be in bed,” he said, and she wondered if she imagined the slight huskiness she heard in his voice.
“Just thinking.”
“Dreaming about all those potatoes you planted?”
She smiled. “As a matter of fact, I was thinking about Newton. Isaac,” she added.
“I’ve heard the name,” he said dryly. The hem of his parka flopped over his wrists as he pushed his hands into his jeans pockets. “I thought you modern-day physicists had forgotten all about old Isaac in your passion for the Big Guy.”
Hearing Einstein referred to in that way amused her. “Believe me, the Big Guy had a lot of respect for his predecessor. He just didn’t let Newton’s laws limit his thinking.”
“I still think that’s disrespectful. Isaac did all that work, then old Albert had to come along and upset it.”
She smiled again. “The best scientists have always been rebels. Thank God they still don’t execute us for our theories.”
He tossed his parka over one of the counter stools. “How’s the search for the top quark coming?”
“We found it in 1995. And how do you know what kind of work I’m doing?”
He shrugged. “I make it my business to know things.”
“I’m investigating the
“So how many top quarks fit on the head of a pin?”
“More than you can imagine.” She was still surprised that he knew anything about her research.
“I’m asking you about your work, Professor. I promise you that I can at least grasp the concept, if not the particulars.”
Once again she’d let herself forget how bright he was. Easy to do with that muscular jock’s body standing in front of her. She pulled her thoughts up short before they could move any farther in
“Not much. They’re a basic subatomic particle, and all matter is made up of them. There are-what?-six kinds of quarks?”
It was more than most people knew, and she nodded. “Top and bottom quarks, up and down, strange and charm. They got their names from a song that’s in James Joyce’s
“See, that’s part of the problem with you scientific types. If you’d take your names from Tom Clancy books- things people actually read-then the general public would understand what you do better.”
She laughed. “I promise if I discover something important, I’ll name it Red October.”
“You do that.” He looped his leg over a stool, then regarded her expectantly. She realized he was waiting for her to tell him more about her work.
She walked to the corner of the counter and rested one hand on the granite top.“What we know about the top quark is quite surprising. For example, it’s forty times heavier than the bottom quark, but we don’t know why. The more we understand about the top quark’s characteristics, the closer we come to exposing the cracks in the standard model of particle physics. Ultimately, of course, we’re looking for the final theory that will lead us to a new physics.”
“The Theory of Everything?”
“The name is facetious. It’s more accurately called the Grand Unification Theory, but, yes, the Theory of Everything. Some of us think the top quark will unlock a small part of it.”
“And you want to be the Einstein of this new physics.”
She busied herself wiping a speck from the granite with the tip of her finger.“There are brilliant physicists all over the world doing the same work.”
“And you’re not intimidated by any one of them, are you?”
She grinned. “Not a bit.”
He laughed. “Good luck, Professor. I wish you well.”
“Thank you.” She waited for him to change the subject-most people’s eyes began to glaze over when she talked about her work-but instead, he got up, grabbed a bag of taco chips from the pantry, and slouched down into the red velvet banquette in the alcove, where he began questioning her about the way the supercolliders worked.
Before long, she found herself sitting across from him munching on taco chips as she described the Tevatron collider at Fermilab as well as the new collider being built by CERN in Geneva, Switzerland. Her explanations merely induced more of his questions.
At first she answered eagerly, thrilled to find a layman who was genuinely interested in particle physics. It was cozy sitting in this warm kitchen late at night, munching on junk food and discussing her work. It almost felt as if they had a real relationship. But the fantasy evaporated when she realized she was explaining the components of the lepton family to him, and, much worse, that he was taking it in.
Her stomach twisted as she absorbed how easily he grasped these difficult concepts. What if her baby turned out to be even more brilliant than she feared? The idea made her dizzy, so she jumped into a complicated explanation of the Higgs boson that soon left him behind.
“Afraid you lost me, Professor.”
If only she could scream at him that she’d lost him because he was too dumb to understand, but all she could say was, “It gets pretty hairy.” She rose from the table. “I’m tired. I think I’ll turn in for the night.”
“All right.”
She decided this would be as good a time as any to put an end to her imprisonment. He was in a fairly good mood, so maybe he’d handle the news better. “By the way, Cal, I need to do something about getting a car. Nothing fancy, just basic transportation. Who should I see?”
“No one. If you have to go some place, I’ll take you.”
As quickly at that, his affability vanished. He rose from the table and walked out of the kitchen, putting an end to the discussion.
But she wasn’t nearly done, and she followed him across the cavernous family room toward the study. “I’m used to my independence. I need my own car.” And then, waspishly, “I promise I won’t wave at your friends when I drive through town.”
“No car, Professor. That’s the way it’s going to be.” Once again, he walked away from her, this time disappearing into the study. She compressed her lips and marched forward. This was ridiculous. Cal seemed to have forgotten they lived in the twentieth century. And that she had her own money.
She stopped in the doorway. “Unlike your girlfriends, I’m old enough to have my driver’s license.”
“The joke’s wearing thin.”
“Except it’s not exactly a joke, is it?” She regarded him thoughtfully. “Are you sure all this has to do with protecting your parents? Are you sure it isn’t more about keeping me locked up so my advanced age and general lack of bimbo qualities don’t embarrass you in front of your friends?”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” He sprawled down behind the massive wooden desk.
