Billionaire Romance Boxed Set 1(122)

“Does this work?” Brynn stood over the old record player.

“Yes, the switch is on the side.”

Brynn started up the record player and laid the needle down in the outer groove. A sonatina’s notes lilted softly through the room. Brynn’s mouth turned up into a contented smile, and Eliot felt himself ache as he watched her. Then her eyes turned to his and he ducked his head, afraid that she might see the longing in his face.

“Would you like some tea?” he asked. He coughed in one hand, his eyes rising to meet hers, his shields up.

“Yes, please,” Brynn said.

“I’ll be right back. Make yourself comfortable.” He didn’t know what to do with his hands, clasping them awkwardly behind him as he exited the room. Surely she could see his discomfort, but she made no sign of noticing. It was a kindness to him, and he did not know what he would do if she were not so good. He fixed the tea quickly, fastidious about pouring the cream and laying out the sugar. Earlier in the morning he had bought a loaf of bread, and he cut and buttered some, thinking she might like a snack, thinking if there was anything else he could do for her. He carried the tray through the door to his study, almost dropping it when he saw where she was.

Brynn was standing bent over Eliot’s desk, examining his mathematical work. He inhaled sharply, tilting the tray. The teacups slid sideways and he righted it just in time. Nobody had seen his work in years, and it startled him to have someone besides himself at the desk. She looked up, and must have seen the look of surprise on his face.

“I’m sorry,” she said, taking a step back from his work. “I only wanted to see.”

“No, of course, it’s perfectly alright,” Eliot stammered. It was wasn’t it? Wasn’t that the whole reason he had brought her here?

Well, perhaps not the whole reason. He brought the tray to the oak desk, and set it down as carefully as he could on the corner. The kitten sat up, apparently invigorated by the sight of tea, and jumped to the floor, darting under the desk and wrapping itself around Brynn’s ankles. Brynn leaned down and picked up the kitten, cradling it in her arms.

“What does this mean?” Brynn asked, pointing to an equation Eliot had written a number of times across the page.

Eliot wiped his hand across his brow. “It’s the standard equation of a projective formula. I’ve been trying to manipulate it to be able to use it later here—” he pointed down to another equation on the page. “Do you know anything about projective algorithms?”

Brynn shook her head. “Not a clue.”

“It’s like a matrix transformation.”

“There was one of those problems on the test,” Brynn said. “I only got the first part. The second part was impossible.”

“Okay,” Eliot said, relieved to be back on stable footing. “Let’s start with that.”

The light grew red and dim as they sipped their tea and Eliot explained the basis of his work. Brynn petted the kitten in her lap and watched, occasionally asking questions or writing down notes on a scrap sheet of paper.

Eliot, in the middle of explaining one of the deeper aspects of part of his projection algorithm, looked over to find Brynn leaning on his shoulder, her eyes closed, her chest moving in the breath of deep sleep.

The poor girl. He had rambled on and on and she had tried to listen. Eliot eased her upright in her seat, but her head lolled down. She must be exhausted. Trying not to make any sudden movements, he picked her up and carried her carefully to the guest bedroom, laying her down in the oversized bed and tucking the blankets in around her chin. She slept on, her lips slightly parted, and he brushed back a strand of her hair from her face. She shifted and murmured something. He leaned close to hear what it was she was saying.

“…wonderful,” she said. “You’re wonderful. Everything…wonderful.”

Eliot couldn’t help pressing a soft, protective kiss to her temple. His hand rested gently on her head, and the kitten jumped up at the foot of the bed, curling up on her feet and purring so loud that Eliot was sure it would wake her. Still she slept on, her hands tucked against her cheeks in a prayer pose. He could not say what it was that he felt in his heart, a possessiveness that he did not deserve to feel. It was all he could do not to stay and watch her sleep, for he was afraid that if he left she would vanish again and he would not have her there with him. The kitten’s tail switched across the blanket more slowly, then came to rest. Despite hating most cats, Eliot had to admit that this one was rather cute.

Eliot stood and left them





CHAPTER NINE



“See, I cast the die, and I write the book. Whether it is to be read by the people of the present or of the future makes no difference: let it await its reader for a hundred years, if God himself has stood ready for six thousand years for one to study him.” - Kepler