He looked so serious. Almost anxious. Probably, he had been having fun with his friends, whom he certainly hadn’t seen much lately. Despite what he said, hearing her annoyed voice on his cell phone had obviously put an end to the evening for him.
She didn’t like to think of herself as a killjoy. And she really hated being seen as some sort of mother figure, nagging him to study for his tests.
“Maybe I’m just too tired, but I’m not sure what you came here to say.”
He raised a hand to brush her hair back from her face. His smile looked as weary as she felt—but the expression in his eyes made her knees go weak. “I just wanted to see you tonight. I missed you.”
She reached up to catch his hand and hold it against her cheek. She couldn’t think of anything at all to say—and she wasn’t sure she could have pushed the words past the lump in her throat, anyway—so she just stood there, gazing up at him.
He bent his head and brushed a kiss across her lips. A little shiver ran through her, and she rested both hands against his chest, her fingers curling slightly into the fabric of his shirt.
The next kiss wasn’t nearly as fleeting or tentative. Wrapping both arms around her, he pulled her close and covered her mouth with his again. More firmly this time. More confidently, as if he were a bit more assured that his embrace would be welcomed.
Just in case he still had any doubt about that, she slid her arms around his neck and parted her lips for him. The kiss deepened, and their hearts began to pound against each other. Maybe they sometimes had a little trouble communicating with words, she thought somewhat dazedly, but they had no trouble connecting in this way.
It wasn’t enough—but it would do for now.
Mike was drawing her toward the bedroom when she suddenly came to her senses. “Wait. We can’t do this.”
“Sure we can,” he said, taking another step toward the bedroom. “And we do it very well, I might add.”
She might have heartily agreed with that sentiment, had she not been clinging so determinedly to her willpower.
“You have those tests tomorrow.”
“I know the material,” he assured her. “Haven’t you told me you don’t approve of night-before-the-test cramming?”
“It’s not as effective as daily studying, but—”
He moved closer to her and toyed suggestively with the top button of her blouse. “I’ll do better on my tests if I’m relaxed and feeling good.”
Looking at him with reproach, she said, “That’s a very weak argument.”
He chuckled, and the button slid smoothly out of its hole. “Sorry. It was the best I could come up with on short notice.”
“You really should—”
“Catherine.” His wandering hands stilled as he looked her in the eyes. “Forget the tests for now. If you want me to go, just say so.”
This was the point where she should insist that he go home and study for his exams. But because she was still smarting over that mental image of herself as a crabby chaperone, she decided she would do no such thing. Mike didn’t need her to fret about his grades. He was certainly old enough to make his own decisions about such things.
Instead she responded specifically to what he had said. “I don’t want you to go.”
He grinned and pulled her into his arms again. He wasn’t worried about the tests, so she wouldn’t either, she promised herself. She could be as relaxed and impulsive as the next person. She could be like his other friends, the ones he’d been hanging out with until she had called and ruined his evening.
If there were any lingering misgivings—and there were—she pushed them very firmly to the back of her mind.
Mike left Catherine early the next morning, saying he would shower and change for work in his own apartment. She walked him to the door. “I’m having dinner with Julia and Karen this evening.”
“Tell them hello for me.”
“I will. I hope your day goes well.” She deliberately left the wish vague, choosing not to mention his tests.
“Thanks. Yours, too. Good luck with that, uh, contamination problem.”
They hadn’t talked much about the specifics of her job. He hadn’t asked many questions—whether from lack of real interest or discomfort with discussing highly technical scientific procedures, she wasn’t certain. And because she was so accustomed to nonscientists looking bored when she talked about her work, she hadn’t brought it up very often, herself. She was actually a bit surprised that he even remembered her mentioning the contamination problem during their brief, awkward conversation when he was at the club with his friends.
“Thanks,” she said. “I’ll work it out.”