I hadn't gone into the office because I'd scheduled my first professional cuddling session for the afternoon. I figured I'd get all my errands out of the way: stop by Matt-the-pretender's lab and then go get cuddled.
"Uh . . ."
"Is now good?" I was determined.
"Now? No. Now doesn't work. And I have no time to meet for the next month either."
This time I did laugh. I cackled, imbuing the sound with sinister enjoyment. "Oh, yes. Yes, you do, Dr. Simmons. You will make time right now. Otherwise the Chicago Tribune will be publishing the story I've already written about your research methods. And as a victim of those methods, let me tell you-"
"You? A victim?" He scoffed loudly. "I think you mean Valkyrie."
I blinked, surprised by his choice of labels, and felt oddly . . . flattered. "Sure. We can go with that imagery, if you wish. Regardless, I'm stopping by today, as in," I quickly calculated the time it would take for me to walk to the university, "within the hour. Expect me. And text directions to this number. Bye."
Not giving him a chance to respond, I clicked off the call, smiling to myself.
Grabbing my packed lunch from the counter and the box of six coconut macaroons I'd made for Matt, I left my apartment.
Okay.
Yes.
Yes, he'd been a jerk, but he didn't seem like a horrible person. I didn't wish him ill. Plus, in his defense, I was going to be placing my marauding paws all over his hard work and pillaging his data for my own wicked purposes.
Yet I wasn't a monster.
So the cookies were a peace offering. Fiona had said that coconut was his favorite. Therefore, macaroons.
Wanting to take advantage of the weather, I was dressed more casually than my typical pencil skirts and button-down Oxfords, wearing instead my favorite summer dress and sandals. I'd also packed shorts and a tank top for my afternoon appointment, as per the advice of Jared, my soon-to-be cuddler.
I made it to the university earlier than expected, but that was no matter. Matt had dutifully texted me directions to his office instead of a laboratory. Nearly there, a man came around the corner and my steps faltered because I recognized him. I'd know him anywhere, even though we'd never met.
Seeing my expression, his steps slowed, his eyes widened, and he glanced behind him, as though searching the hall for danger.
"It's you."
"It's me?" the tall bearded man asked, smiling warily, like he couldn't make up his mind whether or not to flee. "Who is me?"
"You're Derek." I closed the distance between us and was unsurprised to find his eyes were dove gray.
"That's right. I am." He nodded congenially, with artless friendliness. "And are you here to rescue me?"
"What?" I laughed, completely charmed.
Two dimples-mostly hidden by his beard, but too deep to be completely obscured-bracketed his mouth. "You have that look about you." His voice deepened as his gaze traveled over my face.
"What look?"
"A woman on a crusade."
"Marie." The sound of my name pulled my attention away from delightful Derek. Matt stood just outside an office, glancing between us with a mild frown on his features. He was wearing dark jeans, Converse, and a Battlestar Galactica T-shirt. His hair was askew, like sticking up at all angles, and resembled an accidental Mohawk. "What took you so long?"
I blinked once, surprised by the question more than his impatient tone. "I'm early."
"I see you've met Dr. Merek, the other despicable scientist preying on the women of Chicago."
Derek gave me a look that was part sheepish, but mostly whatcha-gonna-do, amiright? and whispered conspiratorially, "Except women actually enjoy it when I prey on them."
I compared the two men; I couldn't help it. Where Matt dressed like a graduate student-a dichotomy of both jock and nerd-Derek looked every bit the role of a college professor. Dr. Merek wore dark gray dress pants and a slate dress shirt, rolled up to his forearms, the top button undone, revealing a black undershirt. He was softer in the middle than Matt, as though he spent most of his time sitting at a desk, using his mind. His beard was very becoming, giving him an aura of experience and wisdom.
And it wasn't just that. He had a stillness about him, a calm certainty that Matt didn't possess. Derek spoke quietly, but not softly, as though he knew he didn't need to be loud to make a point, secure in the knowledge of his own ability and place in the world.
I liked him.
Matt mumbled something I couldn't quite catch, glaring at his colleague while reaching for my elbow and pulling me away. He appeared to be agitated, and I could guess why. I imagined he didn't like being strong-armed into sharing his data.