Between the ankle injury and the disastrous incident with Rosebud, he was more than glad to have this weekend behind him. He still couldn’t believe that he hadn’t used a rubber. Even when he was a teenager, he’d never been that careless. What really galled him was the fact that he hadn’t even thought about it until after she’d left. It was as if the minute he’d set eyes on her, his brain had gone into hibernation, and lust had taken over.
Maybe he’d taken one too many blows to the head because he sure as hell felt like he was losing his mind. If it had been any groupie other than Rosebud, he would never have let her into his room. The first time he’d had an excuse since he’d been half-drunk, but this time there weren’t any excuses. He’d wanted her, and he’d taken her; it had been as simple as that.
He couldn’t even figure out what her appeal was. One of the perks of being an athlete was picking and choosing, and he’d always chosen the youngest and the most beautiful women. Despite what she’d said, she was at least twenty-eight, and he had no interest in women that old. He liked them fresh and dewy, with high, full breasts, pouty mouths, and the smell of newness about them.
Rosebud smelled like old-fashioned vanilla. Then there were those green eyes of hers. Even when she was lying, she’d looked at him dead on. He wasn’t used to that. He liked flirty, fluttery eyes on women, but Rosebud had no-nonsense eyes, which was ironic considering the fact that nothing about her was honest.
He brooded all the way back to Chicago and kept at it right on into the next week. The fact that he was held out from practice made him even more bad-tempered than usual, and it wasn’t until Friday that his rigid self-discipline finally kicked in, and he blocked out everything except the Denver Broncos.
The Stars were playing in the semifinals for the AFC Championship, and despite his sore shoulder, he managed to perform. Injuries, however, hampered their defense, and they weren’t able to stop the Broncos’ passing attack. Denver won, twenty-two to eighteen.
Cal Bonner’s fifteenth season in the NFL came to an end.
* * *
Marie, the secretary Jane shared with two other members of Newberry’s Physics Department, held out several pink message slips as Jane walked into the office. “Dr. Ngyuen at Fermi called; he needs to speak with you before four o’clock, and Dr. Davenport has scheduled a departmental meeting for Wednesday.”
“Thanks, Marie.”
Despite the secretary’s sour face, Jane could barely resist giving her a hug. She wanted to dance, sing, jitterbug on the ceiling, then race through the corridors of Stramingler Hall and tell all her colleagues that she was pregnant.
“I need your DOE reports by five.”
“You’ll have them,” Jane replied. The temptation to share the news was nearly irresistible, but she was only a month along, Marie was a judgmental sourpuss, and it was too early to tell anyone.
One person knew, however, and as Jane collected her mail and walked into her office, a nagging worry burrowed through her happiness. Two nights ago Jodie had dropped by the house and spotted the books on pregnancy that Jane had unthinkingly left stacked on the coffee table. Jane could hardly hide her condition from Jodie forever, and she didn’t try to deny it, but she was uneasy about trusting someone so self-centered to keep quiet regarding the circumstances surrounding her child’s conception.
Although Jodie had promised that she’d carry Jane’s secret to the grave, Jane didn’t have quite that much faith in her integrity. Still, she had seemed genuinely happy and sincere in her desire to keep the secret, so, as Jane closed herself in her office and flipped on her computer, she decided not to waste any more energy worrying about it.
She logged on to the electronic preprint library at Los Alamos to see what new papers on string theory and duality had been posted since yesterday. It was an automatic act, the same one performed daily by every top-level physicist in the world. The general public opened a newspaper first thing in the morning. Physicists connected with the library at Los Alamos.
But this morning, instead of concentrating on the list of new papers, she found herself thinking about Cal Bonner. According to Jodie, he was spending most of February traveling around the country fulfilling his commercial endorsement obligations before he left for North Carolina in early March. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about bumping into him at the corner grocery store.
The knowledge should have been comforting, but she couldn’t quite shake off her uneasiness. She determinedly turned her attention back to her computer screen, but the words wouldn’t come into focus. Instead, she found herself envisioning the nursery she wanted to decorate.