Attraction

CHAPTER 11 Stoichiometry: Calculations with Chemical Formulas and Equations

"Who's George? Your ex-boyfriend? The one who didn't know how to fool around?"

"No." I glared at Martin,shook my head at his antics. "George is my mom's personal assistant, he's like an older brother to me."

"Hmm..." Martin's eyes narrowed a fraction, considering me, then asked, "Did your dad like that? What you did?"

I nodded, smiling at the memory. "Yeah. He did. He cried actually. Not a lot, just a little.The last time I visited him at work, I saw he'd hung up no less than six of the pictures in his office." I laughed lightly, shaking my head. "He's a goof."

We were quiet for a long moment, sharing a stare. His mouth held a whisper of a smile as though he were living vicariously through my experience and found it a pleasant place to visit. It was...nice. Comfortable.Strange.

I cleared my throat,averted my eyes, finding this nice, comfortable, strange moment  more disconcerting than the heated exchanges we'd shared so far.This felt like it could lead to something lasting and normal. We were Martin and Kaitlyn having a conversation, sharing things, likereal people did. Not like billionaire playboys did.

"So, what about your dad?"I asked, because I was curious. I knew a lot about Martin's dad because his dad was a genius, sickeningly rich, and seemed to be in the news all the time dating some model or actress.

"My dad..." The smile left his eyes, and the one that lingered on his lips looked false.

"Yes. The man who raised you."

He barked a humorless laugh and his eyes closed. "He didn't raise me."

I studied his features-his full, delicious lips, strong jaw, high cheekbones, and thick lashes-his perfect features. So perfect. I wondered what it would be like to be perfect, or at least seen that way by the outside world. It seemed to me that perfect-the word and all its connotations-might feel a bit like a cage, a defined floor and ceiling.

"Tell me about him," I said, knowing I was pushing.

Martin opened his eyes and the bitterness that had been absent the last few times we'd been together was back. Jaded, jerk-faced Martin.

"He didn't come to my high school graduation."

I blinked at him."Oh?"

"No. He said later that it was because I wasn't valedictorian, but I think it's because he forgot about it. It didn't rank in his priorities."

"Oh," I said, because I wasn't sure what else to say. His eyes were hooded, guarded,taunting-like he was daring me to feel sorry for him. I wouldn't though. Or, rather, I wouldn't show it.

"He's the smartest man in the world, did you know that? He's taken all the tests, whatever the fuck that means, and overall he's the smartest."

I placed my hand on his thigh and squeezed. "There's more than one kind of smart, Martin."

"That's true," he conceded, his eyes losing focus over my shoulder as he considered my words.

Feeling brave, I added, "I don't think any of those examinations tested for parent-smarts, or priority-smarts, or valuing-your-incredible-son-smarts, because if they did, he would have failed."

His brilliant gaze refocused on mine and I was somewhat surprised to see the bitterness leech out of his expression, leaving only sorrow and breath-stealing vulnerability.

"You're a good person, Kaitlyn." He was frowning at me, like I was a puzzle or a unicorn,like "good people" were the subject of fairy tales.

I opened my mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. "Thank you. You are too, Martin."