Manipulative Attraction

4. ⚛️ Dinner Obligation

Thorne arrived promptly at six o'clock with a bottle of red under one arm and a bottle of white under the other. "I wasn't sure what we were having for dinner, so I bought both," he said, holding out the wine for her inspection.

He looks so good, Jeannie thought as she inspected not the wine, but Thorne's outfit. He had on dark jeans and a gray button-down shirt that hid all but the top of his tattoo. He smelled like a pine forest. A clean, sweet scent.

Thorne pressed the bottles forward. "So, which one?"

Concentrate, Jeannie!

Jeannie scanned the labels quickly. "The Chardonnay will do nicely. I made pan-seared salmon with a watercress salad, mashed potatoes, and homemade pudding for dessert."

"I can hardly wait," Thorne said. He ran his tongue along the top of his teeth, letting out a hungry sigh.

Jeannie pivoted to hide her blush at his gesture.

Thorne chuckled at her obvious discomfort, making Jeannie think his words had a double meaning.

They ate their meal with relish. Jeannie grew proud as Thorne savored every bite. She'd done her best with the meal, making sure everything came out perfect. The goal was to impress her neighbor so he would come around more often. Hawthorne Gable, with his sweet smile and Southern charm, had already grown on her.

"What do you like to do in your spare time, Jeannie?" Thorne asked, leaning back and taking a sip of his wine.

She fiddled with the stem of her glass to avoid his dark-green gaze. "When I have time, I like to read, bake, and watch classic movies on TV."

Thorne let out an appreciative noise. "I like classic movies too, Jeannie."

She lifted her eyes to find him staring at her intently. He held her captive until he purposefully ran his hand down his chest, smoothing the thin cotton of his shirt over the ridges of his six-pack. Jeannie's eyes shifted with his hand.

Thorne made entrancing small circles as he spoke, forcing Jeannie to follow his movements. "Which movie is better, Jeannie? Casablanca or North by Northwest?"

Jeannie tore her gaze away from his abs to concentrate on the conversation. "W-What did you say?"

A smiling Thorne repeated his question.

"I-I haven't, um, seen all of Casablanca," she said, shifting in her seat. "It always comes on late at night." She let out an embarrassed giggle. "Halfway through, I end up falling asleep."

"Now that there is a pity," Thorne drawled. "I have a copy if you want to borrow it."

Jeannie's face fell under crushing disappointment. He hadn't offered to watch it with her. It would have been heaven if he had. Side by side on the couch. Digging into the bowl of popcorn at the same time—

"So? How about it?"

Jeannie masked her wistful thinking by mustering up a smile. "Thanks, I'll take you up on that."

"Oh," Thorne said, his eyes caressing her face, "I hope so."

After clearing the plates and pouring more wine, Jeannie asked, "Um, at breakfast you said you'd be working for the Uni. What will you be doing there, Hawthorne?" Jeannie took a sip of wine, studying the blond over the rim of her glass.

"I'm working on my chemistry doctorate up at the Uni," Thorne said, stretching his arms above him. His shirt rode across his chest much as her fingers wanted to do. He lowered them slowly, almost as if he wanted her to notice how his biceps contracted and bulged. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. His fingers, as fine as the rest of him, tapped out a slow rhythm. "I'll be teaching two Introductory to Chemistry classes."

"Oh, that's nice." Jeannie smiled, but inwardly she groaned at the prospect of running into her neighbor at the Uni. Why did Hawthorne Gable have to be her ideal man? Viking-like men such as Thorne with lazy smiles and piercing eyes were her weakness. How could he not be? Wasn't a man like him featured in most women's fantasies?

"Yes indeed," he said, nodding. For a moment, Jeannie wondered if she had spoken her thought allowed. Thorne continued by saying, "I'm looking forward to my ... assignment. Especially if we run into each other." He brushed his foot against hers, a devilish grin about his lips.

"Oh!" Jeannie squealed at the contact, popping up in her chair like a pastry from a toaster. "There's not much chance of that." She let out a fake giggle, working hard to still her internal nervousness. "The campus is huge, and I believe my classes are on the other side."

Once he knows he has me, she thought, he'll take advantage. I can't let him.

"Well," Thorne said, rubbing at the scruff of his chin, "I'll just have to make sure we hang out here from time to time."

Jeannie wasn't quite sure if she liked the glint of promise in his eye.

After helping her with the dishes, Thorne announced he had to go. He had a date.

Jeannie smiled her goodbye when Thorne thanked her for dinner as he headed for the door. After he left, a pang of disappointment moiled her insides. She questioned whether it was wrong for her to feel put out by his eat and run attitude.

I'm right to feel so. Anyone would feel used, Jeannie thought, flicking on the TV. She scrolled aimlessly through the channels. Nothing good on, as usual. She turned it off in disgust.

Jeannie moved from the living room to her bedroom, taking her favorite book from her nightstand. She lay down on the bed and began reading about Tor the Viking and his lady fair, Bregana.

Soon the words blurred as Jeannie's mind revisited her time with Thorne. He'd been so attentive at breakfast and then again at dinner. He'd listened to her every word as if it mattered to him. No man had ever done that before. Not that she'd given anyone a chance. Her studies had always come first.

"Hawthorne Gable," she said, her voice echoing in the stillness. Yes, he was sexy. Yes, he was intelligent, and yes, he was her type, but his negatives outweighed his positives.

Her neighbor was a professor at the Uni. That alone should halt any fraternization on her part.

I can't let this go further. But can I resist?

Only time would tell.

Jeannie closed her book and let her mind wander, thinking back to their breakfast at El Chico's.

Their waitress, a pretty young Latina with dark hair and eyes, had set down glasses of water and asked to take their order. Thorne hadn't even looked at her. His unfathomable eyes had stayed fixed on Jeannie.

"I'll have the egg, bacon, and hash brown breakfast burrito," Jeannie said, fiddling with the strings of her sea-blue blouse. Under Thorne's unwavering gaze she'd rubbed her hands on her dark blue jeans and then crossed her Converse clad feet under the table.

"To drink?" The waitress's slightly protruding top teeth chewed her bottom lip as she tapped her pen on the order pad.

"I'll take the decaf coffee with soy creamer if you have it, otherwise nondairy." The server had opened her mouth to say something, but Jeannie cut her off. "And if you don't have that, I'll just have orange juice."

She handed the woman her menu and as an afterthought added, "plenty of hot sauce too, please."

The waitress nodded her understanding and Jeannie smiled.

"For you?" the server had asked Thorne.

Jeannie watched his lips, waiting for them to catch her up in his lilting Southern drawl. He didn't disappoint. "I'll have the same, darlin'."

Thorne handed the menus to the woman, dismissing her with a smile. He then shifted his eyes to Jeannie's and held them.

Jeannie had found it easy, too easy, to lose herself in his dark-green pools. She would have to be careful. Very careful indeed.