Beyond the Ivory Tower (9 page)

For the moment, though, she needed to get back to the task at hand. Submission deadlines waited for no one.

~

So
this
was how she kept so fit. Ethan pedaled his rented bike harder, trying to catch up with Anna on her carbon frame hybrid. It was Sunday morning, early enough that the bike path along the waterfront wasn’t too crowded.

When she suggested breakfast in Manhattan Beach, he hadn’t realized she meant for them to bike the entire fourteen-plus miles each way. Not that he was complaining. The view alone was worth it. He’d nearly swallowed his tongue at the sight of her in skin-tight bike shorts and tank top. And now, watching her from behind, her upper body leaning forward over the handlebars, her heart-shaped ass shifting atop the seat whenever she took a curve or accelerated, he had to tamp down his impatience to get her back home and into bed.

Next time, he’d insist on going someplace closer. Or better yet, eating in. He wasn’t even averse to cooking, if it meant having access to that delectable body of hers whenever and however he wanted.

One weekend was definitely not enough. He wished he didn’t have to return to San Francisco so soon. But he had work responsibilities that couldn’t be put off. Like dealing with yet another young entrepreneur who thought tech savvy trumped financial and legal expertise when it came to business management. And then there were meetings to attend, and calls to return, and documents to review, and a million-and-one decisions to make.

He wondered how soon he could arrange for Anna’s mentoring to begin. Would it blur the lines too much if she stayed at his house rather than a hotel? The thought of having her spread out on his king-sized bed, naked and aroused, sent a surge of adrenaline through him.

Had she signed the papers yet? His lawyer sent them as an email attachment yesterday afternoon, which Ethan promptly forwarded to Anna. But by the time he returned to her apartment in the evening, he had other things on his mind besides talking.

Maybe over breakfast, he’d bring it up. Test the waters. If she proved reluctant, he would still have the rest of the day and night to convince her.

“Are you trying to embarrass me on purpose?” Klara said.

Anna saved the file she was working on and took the phone off speaker. “Excuse me?”

“Some reporter called me asking for a quote,” Klara said.

Anna felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. “What about?”

“How it feels to be in the program that my brilliant sister is so critical of.”

So much for thinking she could fly under the radar. “It was one blog post, Klara. And I wrote it four weeks ago. You’d think people would have more interesting things to talk about by now.”

“Yeah, well obviously not.”

“I’m sorry.” Anna leaned back in her chair and stared at the ceiling. The water stain in the corner had gotten bigger. She should probably have the department secretary call facility management again. Bureaucracy was a bitch. Idly, she wondered if Ethan had to put up with crap like this in the private sector. Probably not. If someone didn’t jump when Ethan demanded it, he probably fired the person. Then again, how many people would be brave enough—or foolish enough—to ignore Ethan Talbot? The man could be awfully persuasive.

“TLTL,” Klara said.

“What?”

“Your apology. Too little, too late.”

Anna sighed. “Would it help if I told you I’m possibly re-evaluating my stance?”

“You are?”

“Well, maybe re-evaluating is the wrong word,” Anna said. “I agreed to mentor a couple of the Talbot Fellows.”

“No way!”

“Way.” Anna relaxed as the familiar exchange seemed to soften her sister’s ire.

“Can I tell the reporter that?” Klara said.

“I’d rather you didn’t.” Anna turned back to her computer and pulled up the brief email exchange she’d had with both of her mentees. They seemed enthusiastic and, like Ethan had promised, very bright. But Anna still wasn’t sure what she was expected to do with them. The only person she’d mentored outside of academia was her sister—and that still felt like a work in progress. “I don’t meet them until later this week, and it might not work out.”

“Who are they?”

Anna read the names to her sister. “Do you know them?”

“We met. That first weekend, at the summit.” Unfortunately, Klara couldn’t give her much more information, since their areas of interest didn’t really overlap, and they weren’t living in the same housing complex.

“I’m flying up Thursday afternoon,” Anna said. “Will you have time to get together this weekend?”

Klara’s pause seemed to last forever. So this was how it felt when your child grew up and moved away to live a life completely separate from your own. Anna hadn’t fully appreciated the sense of loss her parents must have experienced when she’d left for Princeton at sixteen.

“Looks like Saturday morning’s free,” Klara said. “You want to do brunch?”

“I’d love to.”

“Are you staying in the same place as last time?”

“No,” Anna said. “I mean, I haven’t booked a hotel yet.”

Technically, she was telling the truth.

The fact that she hadn’t book a hotel because she didn’t need to, because she was staying with Ethan, wasn’t something she was ready to share with her younger sister. It might make things awkward, especially if this turned out to be a one-off.

Anna certainly hadn’t expected the offer. When Ethan first brought it up, she was so caught off guard that she didn’t immediately respond.

Much as she’d enjoyed his company during his weekend in L.A., she understood that sex—even bone-melting, mind-blowing sex—did not automatically translate into a relationship. Throw in all the obstacles that still remained, and she had trouble imagining anything between them lasting beyond Ethan’s return to San Francisco.

His imagination was obviously better than hers.

“Think about it,” he said, when she remained silent. “I’ll have Jorge pick you up at the airport.”

She swallowed, and finally managed a soft, “Okay.”

But he’d already hung up by then. Which was probably a good thing, since she wasn’t sure what she was agreeing to—the ride or the invitation.

Her friend Becca was the one who put things in perspective. “You only live once,” she told Anna. “So take advantage of it. And if you don’t, I will.”

“You already have a boyfriend, remember?”

“Oh, right,” Becca laughed. “I guess Ethan Talbot’s all yours, then.”

Later that night, Anna lay in bed, unable to sleep.

She had labored for so long beneath the weight of her responsibilities that she’d almost forgotten how to enjoy the here and now. The few relationships she had over the years fell casualty to her absorption with career and parenting. There was simply no time or energy left over for anything else.

But now her career was secure. Klara was off pursuing her own dreams.

A whole new world of possibilities beckoned. All Anna had to do was say
Yes.

~

In contrast to Anna’s last visit to San Francisco, this time was smooth sailing. An easy one-hour flight sure beat seven hours on the freeway, especially when there was a chauffeured car waiting for her at the airport, ready to whisk her to Ethan’s Pacific Heights home.

If she had any qualms about staying with him, Ethan’s enthusiastic greeting put them to rest.

When they finally broke apart, breathless, Anna was flustered to find that they had an audience. A stout middle-aged woman with dark hair and an amused expression stood about a dozen feet away.

Ethan followed her gaze. “Ah, good. Anna, come meet Maria.” He ushered Anna across the echoing marble foyer. “Maria takes care of the house and makes sure I don’t starve. Maria, this is Anna Lazarev.”

Before Anna could do anything but smile, Maria took control. “You probably tired from your trip,” she said. “Come, I show you to your room. Mr. Ethan will bring your things.”

Anna hesitated, waiting for Ethan to—what? Protest being bossed around? Clarify the sleeping arrangements? He did neither, merely nodded and headed for the entryway, where the chauffeur had deposited Anna’s wheeled carry-on and computer bag.

As she followed the housekeeper up a sweeping staircase and into a massive guest bedroom outfitted with a separate sitting area and en-suite, Anna wondered if she’d misinterpreted Ethan’s invitation after all.

“Here you go,” Ethan said, setting her bags just inside the door. “I have some calls to make. Feel free to freshen up and relax. You’ve got a couple hours before we head out for dinner. Let Maria know if you need anything.”

And then he was gone.

Maria opened the doors to a patio that commanded a gorgeous view of the San Francisco Bay. “Maybe you like some
pan dulce
and tea? I baked this morning. Mr. Ethan, he has a sweet tooth.”

Anna declined, and soon found herself alone, with instructions on how to use the intercom system if she changed her mind.

Unpacking took all of five minutes. While waiting for the tub to fill, she checked her email and fired off a quick confirmation note regarding tomorrow’s meeting with the two Talbot Fellows. Then she shed her clothes, secured her hair in a clip, and slid into the hot water.

San Francisco spread out below them like a scale model painted in shades of gray and navy and sprinkled with gold glitter. Anna shifted her gaze from the view to the faint reflection of the scene inside the restaurant. White linen. Candles flickering in frosted square glasses. Elegantly attired diners. A jazz band playing early Miles Davis in the background.

The remains of their meal had already been whisked away by an attentive waiter. Across the table, Ethan signed the check and glanced her way.

“Ready to go?”

She turned from the window and accepted a hand up. “This was lovely, thank you.”

“My pleasure.” He draped her wrap over her shoulders. “About tomorrow…”

“Yes?”

“My office is right down the hall from the conference room.” He ushered her toward the exit, and into a waiting elevator. “If there’s anything you need that isn’t there…”

“Don’t worry, Ethan. We’ll be fine.” She smiled and glanced at him through lowered lashes. “I promise to be on my best behavior. I won’t even try to lure your Fellows back to academia.”

He wrapped an arm around her waist. “I’m not worried. These kids wouldn’t agree, even if you did try. Different mindset. A whole different set of ambitions.”

“If you say so.” She shivered as his thumb lightly stroked her silk-clad ribs. “Otherwise, you’ve just wasted a whole lot of money.”

“Not really,” he said. “I look at it as an investment in the future.”

Funny, how closely his words paralleled her own views of education. Maybe their goals weren’t that different after all, despite opposing ideas on how to achieve them.

“Well,” she said. “I do appreciate the scholarships you’re funding. That alone makes my trip here worth it.”

The doors slid open before he could respond. Instead of heading across the hotel lobby toward the front entrance, Ethan ushered her past the bank of elevators into a small alcove that appeared unoccupied except for a few empty brass luggage carts.

He backed her up against the nearest wall, chest to breasts, and planted his palm on the wall beside her head.

She shivered beneath his dark expression. “Ethan…”

“Let’s get one thing straight,” he said, leaning in until their faces almost touched. “What’s going on here, between us, has nothing to do with the Fellowship program. Or the scholarships. Or anything else, except the two of us. Just you and me. Okay?”

Anna swallowed. She’d never seen him this intent. “Okay.”

“Good.” He nodded and stepped back. “Now let’s go home.”

~

As they exited the hotel, a flash went off, momentarily blinding Anna. Ethan cursed and pulled her into the shelter of his arms, using his hand to shield her face.

“What’s going on?” she said, clutching his jacket lapel for balance. Behind her, the clicking and flashes of light intensified.

“Damn paparazzi,” he muttered.

A uniformed valet darted forward, trying to shoo away the photographers. They backed off only when a familiar black Mercedes pulled into the semi-circular drive. At Ethan’s nod, the valet rushed to open the rear passenger door. Ethan hustled Anna inside, shoved a few bills into the valet’s hand, and slid in beside her.

Anna sagged against the leather seat as they merged seamlessly into the late night traffic. “Does this happen often?”

Ethan sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “No. Not any more.” Beneath the passing street lights, he looked tired. “There was probably some celebrity inside and we just got caught in the crossfire.”

A snort from the front caught Anna’s attention. “Sounds like Jorge disagrees,” she said.

Ethan frowned. “Jorge should pay more attention to the road.”

Anna raised a brow and waited.

“What do you want me to say?” Ethan grumbled. “You’re from L.A. I’m sure you know the drill.”

“Sorry, but I don’t move in those kind of circles.”

He tipped his head back and closed his eyes. “Yeah, well, now I guess you do.”

“Meaning what, exactly?”

“Meaning—” he sighed again and rolled his head in her direction, opening his eyes. “There are certain publications that make money off of poking into people’s private lives. Especially when things go wrong. Divorce is a big draw. Schadenfreude. Other people’s misery, writ large.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, regretting now that she’d pushed the issue.

His lips flattened. “It’s all a game. Even if nothing’s going on, they’ll find a way to make it sound like there is. My name’s been linked to women I’ve never even met. You can’t believe anything you read these days. Lies, damn lies, and statistics. Isn’t that the expression?”

“I guess.” She thought about the viral blog post in which she’d raked Ethan over the coals. For the first time, she wondered at the repercussions that ill-conceived bit of commentary might have had on his life and privacy.

“Never mind.” He reached for her hand, interlacing their fingers together. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. I doubt they had the chance to get any good shots.”

~

Ethan’s prediction proved wrong.

The following day when they arrived at his company offices, Anna was conscious of people pausing mid-conversation to follow their progress across the marble lobby toward the elevators.

Over the next few hours, she forgot all about it, too engrossed in a discussion with the two Talbot Fellows about the potential use of mathematical modeling in point-of-care testing for analysis and prediction of antibiotic resistance.

It was only later, after a full day of working through several algorithmic solutions with her mentees, that she recalled her unease from the morning. A check of her email proved that her sense of foreboding was justified.

Her university inbox was flooded with requests for interviews. Publications and media outlets she’d only vaguely heard of seemed to be clamoring for information about Ethan Talbot’s latest “love interest.”

The first thing she did was email her sysadmin, requesting that he delete her email address from any university web page that was readily available to the public. But there was no way to scrub web pages that had already been indexed and cached. And besides, the damage was already done.

She Googled some of the sites these self-styled journalists claimed to represent, and was stunned to find coverage of her date with Ethan from the previous night, complete with photos and commentary from “close sources.”

Silicon Valley billionaire Ethan Talbot seen getting cozy with new crush
, read one caption.

Sorry, ladies,
read another,
last of the Forty under Forty bachelors appears taken
.

There were other photos, too, dredged up from the past. Ethan, in the company of various A-list celebrity types, each woman more glamorous and incandescent than the last. The pictures of Anna were less flattering. There was a headshot from her university webpage. A publicity photo taken for the university’s alumni magazine after she’d won the Fermat Prize. A group picture from her high school yearbook, showing Anna with a gold Math Olympiad medal around her neck, dwarfed by an otherwise all-male team.

A particularly offensive headline caught her attention:
SLEEPING WITH THE ENEMY
.

She paused to read the opening paragraph.

Looks like venture capitalist and outspoken critic of the US university system, Ethan Talbot, has been keeping company with the woman who was until recently his most vocal adversary. Has Professor Anna Lazarev, 32, succumbed to the controversial playboy’s infamous charm? If so, she wouldn’t be the first….

She skimmed the rest of the article, which offered a lengthy rundown of Ethan’s previous female companions, rehashed the history of his troubled marriage and acrimonious divorce, and concluded with the promise to continue reporting on the love life of San Francisco’s favorite bad-boy billionaire.

She was still sitting at the conference table, iPhone in hand, when Ethan popped his head in the door.

“How’d it go?” he said.

She looked up. “Did you see the tabloids?”

Instead of answering, he stepped inside and closed the door, shutting out the noise from the hallway beyond. “I’m sorry, Anna. Are you okay?”

“Fine.” She shoved the phone back in her computer bag. “I’m just not used to this kind of attention. How do you live with it?”

“I don’t.” He stopped directly behind her chair and settled his hands on her shoulders, thumbs digging into the muscles of her upper back. “I actually lead a pretty boring life. You’re the most interesting thing that’s happened to me since…I can’t remember when.”

“Somehow I doubt that.” She sighed and closed her eyes, tilting her head forward as his fingers worked magic on the knots between her shoulder blades. “According to ‘close unnamed sources,’ your life has been pretty interesting for quite some time.”

“Like I said, you can’t believe most of the trash you read. They’re in the business of making money, not telling the truth.”

She glanced over her shoulder at him. “So all that talk about why you and your wife split up—there’s no truth to that?”

His fingers stopped moving. “What talk?”

“You were looking to trade in the starter wife for a younger model. She caught you in bed with some wanna-be-actress.”

His hands lifted, and she immediately felt the chill. “Do you believe that?” he said.

She turned to study his closed expression. “We haven’t known each other all that long.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked. “How long does it take to know a person?”

She shook her head, at a loss.

He sighed and stepped back, giving her room to rise. “Let’s get out of here, Anna. I’ll answer whatever questions you have after we get home.”

She accepted a hand up. “Truthfully?”

“I’m not in the habit of lying,” he said. “And I’m certainly not going to start with you.”

~

The ride back to Pacific Heights passed in tense silence.

Maria met them at the door, but after one look at Ethan’s face, she muttered something about chile chicken enchiladas and disappeared into the kitchen.

Ethan led the way into the living room. “You want something to drink?”

“Sure.” She sank down on the black leather sofa and kicked off her shoes.

“What would you like?” He strode toward a well-stocked bar in the corner. “Chardonnay? Sherry? Campari?”

“Whatever you’re having.”

While he poured, she examined the decor. Sharp edges and asymmetric lines, done in shades of black and white, with plenty of glass and chrome accents. No colorful rugs or throw pillows, nothing to soften the stark design. She wondered who was responsible for the decorating. Not Ethan—this was the kind of thing he’d delegate for sure. To whom? A professional designer? His ex-wife, when they’d been together?

He brought Anna some white wine and took a healthy swallow of his own drink before sitting down beside her.

“So,” he said, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, wine glass dangling from his hand. He turned his head and fixed a steady gaze on her. “What do you want to know?”

She swirled the Chardonnay without tasting it. “Did you cheat on your wife?”

“No.” he said. No hesitation at all, eyes unwavering.

A weight rolled off Anna’s chest.

“Okay.” She nodded and took a sip. The minutes ticked by.

Ethan finally broke the silence. “That’s it? You don’t have any other questions?”

She considered that. Sure, there was plenty to ask. Like what was she really doing here? Where did he see this relationship going? Did he envision a future in which they continued to live separate lives, him in San Francisco, her in Los Angeles, an occasional flying visit bringing them briefly together? Or did he want something more? And if so, what? When? Where?

But none of those questions seemed appropriate to the time or situation. Discussing relationship status now felt presumptuous, a violation of some unspoken rules of etiquette that dictated a set sequence and pacing of events.

“Anna?” The clink of his glass on the coffee table drew her attention. He reached for her free hand.

She shivered slightly when his thumb stroked her knuckles. “No,” she said. “No more questions.”

And really, hadn’t he answered the most important one already, the one about trust and strength of character? Whatever happened going forward, at least she could be confident in the knowledge that Ethan stood by his commitments.

He’d told her as much—in a different context, that day in her office when he’d first proposed that she become a Talbot mentor.
There are certain lines you just don’t cross
, he’d said. She’d forgotten that comment in the face of today’s tabloid press coverage. But now, sitting beside him, she felt the absolute certainly of his conviction.