Searching for Perfect (Searching For #2)(56)
Author: Jennifer Probst

He muttered a vicious curse, but she was too gone to care. “What’s on your agenda for today?” he asked.

“Not much. Clean. Work.”

“I need a golf partner.”

She snorted. “I highly doubt it. Besides, you work on Saturdays, right?”

“I need a day off. So do you. And you promised me a favor last night, so I’m collecting.”

Kennedy nibbled on the buttery crust. She realized she should be angry or irritated at him calling in a marker she promised during the height of sex, but the perfect combination of eggs, toast, and bacon had turned her brain to mush. “Fine. But then this entire thing is done with us. Understood?”

“The golf? Yes, I won’t ask you to play golf with me again.”

“And other stuff. All the other stuff.”

“The sex? We can always talk about that later. Let’s not ruin a good breakfast. Here, you have to try one hash brown.”

“Oh, no, I—”

He forked it on her plate. “Just one. They’re tiny.”

“Maybe just one. So about last night. I think—”

“Something’s been bothering me for a while. Wayne—my lab partner—believes in this new groundbreaking physics discovery of time crystals. Quite controversial. Guy from MIT, Wilczek broke the theory, and it’s been dividing camps and causing quite a stir in the physics community. If they prove we can create time crystals, we’re literally contradicting the entire basis of symmetry. Wayne thinks it will change the world. I think there are too many inherent problems from the origin. Though I’m not taking away the excitement of challenging mainstream theories and pushing physics to the next level.”

Relief broke through her. He didn’t want to talk about the sex or their relationship. Maybe he believed, like her, that it was a wonderful evening that shouldn’t go any further. Maybe he’d already accepted they’d spend a few more hours together at the golf course, then part without another word of the encounter. Maybe he’d even begin to date Mary. That would be nice.

Damn, the hash brown was so good. Very tiny, though. Maybe a few more. “They’re claiming it’s possible at this point, not confirming,” she offered. “It’s not like we’re talking time travel here. But to have a timekeeping system for space would be groundbreaking. The energy exists in the lowest possible state so there won’t be any perpetual motion. I’d like to see more research before I jump in and make assumptions. I’m a bit surprised. I always thought of you as a more progressive brain.”

She swiped a potato into the pool of ketchup, which was super low in calories, and smiled as the taste of salt and potato exploded in her mouth. She was so happy.

“I am progressive. I’m also a classicist.”

She rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

“How long have you been studying physics, Ken?”

The hash brown dropped from her fingers. Shit. One peek at him showed his face as a complete study of concentration. He had the same look last night when he was between her thighs and bringing her to orgasm. Her body clenched in response, and she grew wet. How was he able to do that with just a look? “What are you talking about? I saw it on this science blog when I was searching for ShoeDazzle.com.”

“Why are you lying?” he asked softly. “Why is it so bad to admit you’re amazing at science and math?”

Her head snapped up. She was so not going there. She’d already told him too much. “Not to disappoint you, but I really don’t know much in those fields. I remember stuff from school, I occasionally read a blog or two, but don’t try to make me into something I’m not. I’ll only disappoint you.”

Green eyes burned into hers. She shivered under all that concentration, her mouth going dry as she tried to remain cool and detached. Those lush lips framed by his stubble gave him the rough morning-after look she found sexy as hell. The Calvin Klein denim jacket, button-down shirt, and snug jeans showed off his muscular body. Not that she needed reminding. Nope, she knew every inch of him, from his cut abs to the toned biceps able to hold her up while he pounded into her. He didn’t look nerdy at all. In fact, he looked as steamy as a male model fresh off a catalog shoot.

She dragged in a breath. Focus. He wanted an explanation of her brains, and she wasn’t gonna give it to him. She waited and prepared for a knockout battle. She’d walk out and end this right now.

Instead, his body slowly relaxed, and he nodded. “Okay. Are you done? I want to get to the course before the big groups come in.”

“Maybe this isn’t a good idea.” She paused. “Maybe we should reschedule.”

“No, you promised. Let’s go.” He grabbed the bill and went to the counter to pay, while she tried to rein in her sexual and physical appetite. A few hours of golf wouldn’t hurt. It was a beautiful day, she’d get some light exercise, and they’d go their separate ways.

A FEW HOURS LATER, she admitted that Nate Dunkle was a sneaky son of a bitch.

Other than the crankiness he showed on the course after she got something called a birdie, he was the perfect companion. He showed her how to manipulate her grip and root her feet for more power. His fingers stroked, soothed, and caressed. He insisted on pressing his erection against her buttocks and wrapping his arms tight around her on the pretense of helping her with her swing. As they progressed past each hole, he muttered more and even began scribbling some ridiculous formulas on his notepad. Very confusing. Every time she thought she did really well, he seemed to get more frustrated. When his ball landed in that pretty lake, he’d almost lost his temper. Which was kind of interesting. And hot.

Instead of dropping her off afterward, he forced her to stop and rest at one of the outdoor cafés. He drank a microbrew, and she sipped a glass of wine as they people watched, bantered, and talked about a wide range of topics. He paused at a farmers’ market, and made her close her eyes while he shopped for a variety of secret ingredients he refused to show her. Every time she tried to peek in one of the big brown bags, he rolled it tighter. Whatever. Maybe he was going to cook a special secret meal for Mary. That would be nice.

On their way home, he dragged her into an art exhibit, where they debated their favorite artists, and he came up with a ridiculous theory of how Monet used a famous mathematical equation to generate the randomness of his water lilies.

Yeah. Right.

It was early evening when he finally walked her to the door. Kennedy frantically searched for an easy, casual way to say good-bye and put their wild night of sex behind them. She decided on the straightforward approach.