The Deviant Underground (Time Bandit) (3 page)

Sam. Mmm
. Kathryn remembered bouncing off of that solid chest of his. It was the only thing she wanted to remember about that terrible day. But still . . . “I don't know, Susan. I think I'm off men for a while. Focus on my career. Men are too distracting.”

Susan raised her eyebrows. “Did you get a good look at him? Tall. Gorgeous. Killer body. Funny. Smart. Killer body. Is any of this ringing a bell?”

Kathryn chuckled. “Yeah, all of it. He is pretty damn fine.” She frowned. “But if he’s so perfect, then why aren’t
you
dating him?”

“To be honest, I’m not his type. But you, my friend, are.” Kathryn raised one eyebrow. Susan was beautiful, and Kathryn could not imagine any red-blooded heterosexual male not liking her. “So, I'm giving him your number and telling him to call.” Susan stood up and held out her hand to coax Kathryn off the bench.

Kathryn put her hand in Susan’s and pulled herself up. Maybe just one date. She'd invite him up afterwards and then see exactly what was going on underneath that blue oxford shirt of his. “Okay, fine. Give him my number. Tell him to call. Whatever.”

“Great! You won't regret it.” Susan gave her a quick hug and jogged away.

Kathryn knew that she probably would, but it didn't matter. One day the police would show up at her door and haul her away, and then she'd have a lot more to worry about.

Chapter Three

Kathryn was shocked to hear his voice on the other side of her phone so soon. It had only been two days since she agreed to let Susan give him her number
.

“ . . . and Susan suggested that I call.” That voice—rich and smooth with a hint of an accent—sent sparks of desire down her spine.

“Well, I’m glad you did.” Kathryn sat up from the lesson plan she was preparing.

“I know this may be short notice, but I was wondering if you wanted to go to dinner tomorrow night. That is, if you don't already have plans.”

His smooth, polite invitation pleased Kathryn. She liked men who knew what they wanted and went after it. She wondered what he would be like in bed and felt a tingling between her legs as she thought about it. “No, I don’t have any plans tomorrow night. I would love to go to dinner.”

The voice sounded like he was smiling. “Great. How does 7:30 sound?”

“It sounds perfect.” They exchanged other pleasantries and her address before hanging up.

As soon as she hung up, she dialed Susan’s number. “He just called me. We’re going out to dinner.”

“When?” Susan sounded pleased.

“Tomorrow night.”

“Perfect.”

“His voice—”

“Yeah?”

“He has an accent. Where is he from?”

“Dallas.”

“Oh.” A Texas boy. They do say that everything is bigger in Texas. And Kathryn could not wait to find out if that were true.

Susan’s voice interrupted Kathryn’s wandering dirty mind. “. . . So?”

“So . . . what?”

“So am I going to get a full report tomorrow night?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“You'd better call me.”

“Yeah, okay! I’ll call you when I get home.”

“Good. ’Night.”

“’Night.” Kathryn turned off her cell phone and sat back in her chair.
Maybe being set up isn’t that bad. Maybe it will be okay. Maybe this one will actually work.
“Who am I kidding?” Kathryn muttered to the empty room. “My days as a free woman are numbered anyway.”

Kathryn sighed and returned to her lesson plan. She had a hard time concentrating, though, because she kept thinking about The Lone Star State.

***

He filled up her doorway. Dressed this time in a white button-down shirt and black pants, Sam was just as irresistible as Kathryn remembered him. She felt that warm, familiar tingle beginning to rise inside her, and she worked hard to stop herself from mentally undressing him. It was almost impossible. Upon seeing her, Sam's full lips upturned into a slight grin, and Kathryn wanted to rip off her dress right there and drag him to the bedroom. Actually, no need for the bedroom. The living room floor would be just fine.

“I hope you don’t mind my coming up like this,” he said. “But someone was coming in downstairs, so I followed him in.”

“No need to apologize.” For the first time in a long time, Kathryn found herself feeling self-conscious and nervous in front of a guy. She really wanted him to like her. “The buzzer doesn’t always work anyway.” She just stood there, admiring him.
He is amazing
.

“May I come in?”

“Oh! S—Sorry. Of course, please come in.” Kathryn stepped aside to let him pass. A fragrant aroma wafted through the air as he entered the apartment. Soap. Aftershave. Clean. Delicious.

“Nice place.” His eyes scanned the room, and Kathryn was instantly very aware of her Ikea furniture and Target pressboard bookshelves.

“Um. Yeah. It’s okay.” Pause.
Do I offer him a drink? Do I ask him to sit down? Oh my god, my couch is falling apart and so cheap, what if he breaks it? He’s got to weigh 250 lbs at least. Shit. I should have gotten better furniture. Wait. What are you thinking about? What is wrong with you? Get it together! He’s just another guy. Probably an asshole. Like all the former assholes—

“I hope you like Italian. I forgot to ask Susan what you liked to eat or if you are allergic to anything.” Sam's voice interrupted her frantic thoughts. “I know this great place in the Hill. It’s very authentic and has a large menu, so I was thinking that you might like it.”

“Italian sounds great. I love Italian.”
Get a grip. Get your shit together!
“Is it cool outside? Perhaps I should grab a jacket.”

“You might need one, yes.”

Kathryn tried to walk confidently over to the coat closet and grabbed a light, all-weather, long jacket that tied at the waist and complimented her form-fitting wrap dress. She had been working out a lot lately—she needed to do something to release the stress of freezing a tree branch in mid-air in front of a street full of people—and she knew she looked fit, toned, healthy, and great. She had pulled her shoulder-length hair off her face, and she wore the pair of diamond earrings her mother had given her right before the accident. Her makeup was light and understated but just enough to accentuate her brown eyes and full lips. Sam opened the front door for her like a gentleman, and she caught him looking appreciatively at her figure.

That’s right. I got this.

***

“So, Susan says that you are a professor.”

They were seated at Francesca's—a very nice, white-tablecloth establishment in St. Louis’ Italian neighborhood. Sam had ordered a fine cabernet, and Kathryn admired his knowledge of regions and vintages as he discussed wines with the waiter. She took another small sip from her glass, enjoying the flavor profiles as it slid over her tongue. She was determined to pace herself tonight. It would be bad form to get drunk on a first date.

“I am, yes.”

“English?”

“Yes.”

A smile spread across his flawless face. “My worst subject.”

“Really? Let me guess, you are a math and science guy.”

Sam chuckled. It was a deep sensuous sound that made Kathryn want to leap over the table and kiss him. But she didn’t. “Most definitely. How did you guess?”

“Because . . .” Kathryn was in her element when discussing education, “the world is divided into two kinds of people—people who excel in math and science and people who excel in English.”

“Can’t someone excel in both?”

“Sure, but it’s rare. Actually, I have yet to meet a person who is equally as good in both.”

“Really?”

Kathryn picked up her glass again for another sip. “Yes. Think about all the people you know. Can you think of anyone who has serious talent in both areas?”

Sam sat back for a moment. “Hmmm. I can’t. I might actually have to concede that point to you.”

“Thank you.” Kathryn put her glass down.

“So what does your research tell you about relationships between a math and science geek and an English nerd?”

“Well,” Kathryn couldn't help but smile a little. He was flirting, and she loved it. “After extensive research, I have come to the conclusion that the math/science and English pairing is actually the most successful of all relationships.”

“Really?” Sam raised one eyebrow.

“Yes, and here’s why. When two English nerds get together, the focused analytical energy and the compulsion to over analyze every word, situation, and sentence ultimately becomes too intense to bear and ends up destroying the relationship. Either that, or both parties get so wrapped up in their copies of Zizek or Lacan or Foucault or Derrida that they actually forget that they are even in a relationship, and it fizzles and dies under the weight of too much theory.”

“Oh!” Sam feigned distress.

“Yes, it’s truly tragic.” She reached for one of the breadsticks sitting on the table and proceeded. “Not as tragic, however, as what happens when two math and science geeks get together.”

“Why? What happens to them?”

“Why, they suffer the burden of over-calculation. Too many quadratic equations and isosceles triangles and . . . and . . . H2Os and apples falling on their head and the desire to figure out the one true equation that explains all of this can actually cause a chemical reaction not unlike a nuclear bomb.”

“Wow.”

“Yes, very dangerous to all parties involved. And any neighbors who happen to be in close proximity.”

Sam's brown eyes twinkled. “It’s been a long time since you had a science class hasn’t it.”

Kathryn burst out laughing. “It is that obvious?”

“Yes. Isosceles triangles? H2Os?”

“Okay, okay, I was reaching. But at least I remembered something. I’m actually quite proud of myself for coming up with quadratic equation.”

The waiter arrived carrying their dinner. Kathryn had ordered cannelloni, and Sam had seafood alfredo. Everything smelled delicious. The rest of the dinner passed by quickly. Kathryn couldn’t remember the last time she had so much fun on a date—any date—better yet, a first date. What to do? Every inch of her body wanted to invite him up and into her bedroom. The urge was pressing. But her mind was telling her to wait. She liked Sam. She liked him more than just a one-night thing. No one had come knocking at her door yet to haul her away for being a freak, so maybe she would try to see if this thing with Sam could be a little more. And if she wanted more, she'd have to stop him at the gate.

Sam pulled up to her apartment complex and opened her car door for her. He took her hand and wrapped it around his arm as he walked her up to the front door. It was so gentlemanly and so irresistible.

He turned to face her. “I had a great time tonight.”

Kathryn’s eyes took in his perfect face. “I did, too.”

“I don’t know if I said this tonight, but you are absolutely stunning.”

Those words sent a shiver through Kathryn’s entire body.
Control yourself!
“Thank you. You're not so bad yourself.”

Sam smiled. “Thanks.” He then did what Kathryn had been wanting him to do ever since he first appeared in her doorway earlier that evening. He bent down, placed one large warm hand on her hip and the other against the side of her face and kissed her. He tasted like pasta and wine and caramel and softness and hardness and testosterone and confidence and sex. Kathryn was afraid to touch him in return because she feared if she so much as even laid one hand on his shirt, she would rip it off him. Before she could make any drastic decisions, however, he broke the kiss and looked at her.

“May I call you tomorrow?” He asked gently.

Kathryn couldn’t speak. So she simply nodded.

He kissed her lightly again, and then he was gone. Kathryn watched him disappear down the walk before forcing herself to go inside.

***

“I hate you.”

“Why?!” Susan sounded shocked on the other end of the phone.

“Because you let me waste my time on Derrick’s sorry ass when I could have skipped all of that nonsense and met Sam months ago.” Kathryn was stretched out on her bed, wrapped comfortably in her robe. Sam’s kiss had left her so wound up that she had to take a cold shower. Still, it didn’t help. She’d have to make good use of her vibrator later.

Kathryn could practically hear the gloating. “So your date went well?”

“Hell yeah, it went well. Although, I’m lying here alone talking to you, so it obviously didn’t go well enough.”

Susan laughed. “So I was right.”

Kathryn sighed. “Yes, you were right about him. He’s perfect. He’s beautiful. He’s sexy. He’s smart. He’s funny. I hope he liked me.” Kathryn paused, mad at herself. “Listen to me. I sound like an eighth grader. The next thing you know, I’ll be drawing K. H. plus S. J. in my Trapper Keeper and pulling petals off of flowers.”

Susan laughed. “Of course he liked you. How could he not? What happened at the end of the date? You didn’t invite him up?”