Karen Kendall - Midnight Touch

He found the sight of her little toe oddly endearing. She propped her chin on one hand and seemed entirely unconcerned that she’d just embarrassed their professor in front of the class.

From his position in the row behind her, he could see her doodling in the margins of her yellow pad. So far he could make out a bicycle, a sailboat and a beach umbrella. Literal, no-nonsense drawings, very illustrative of Kate’s personality. He squinted to make out what she was sketching now, and chuckled when he saw a steak with eyes and legs. It looked uncannily like Professor Kurtz.

“Mr. Torres? Do you have something to add to the lecture?” the professor asked sharply.

Kate, along with a few others, turned and looked at him. So she knew who he was…He winked at her. She blinked, then raised a corner of her mouth uncertainly and turned back around.

“No, no. I just had something in my throat,” Alejo said to Kurtz. “Sorry.”

The professor pontificated some more with no further interruptions, and soon the class drew to an end. “You’ll be pairing up next week to begin the big semester project,” he told them. “So keep that in mind. And please read chapters four through seven in your text.”

Alejandro followed Kate out of the room and caught up with her easily in the hallway. “Kate? I admire you for speaking up back there.”

She turned to face him, her green eyes wary over her high, aristocratic cheekbones. “Thank you.” She edged away a couple of steps.

He closed the gap again. “I was wondering if you’d like to work together on Kurtz’s project.” He smiled down at her.

Surprise danced along those high cheekbones. Then her lips curved, and he caught a glimpse of a possible imp under her cool facade. “Are you sure you want to throw your fate in with mine? Kurtz doesn’t like me much, especially not after today.”

“I’m not worried about that. So what do you say?”

She took another step back from him, and he realized that she was used to more personal space. He didn’t move any closer this time.

“What’s your background and experience?” she asked, all business.

Now she was starting to annoy him a little. That nose in the air, her head cocked as if to use the cheekbones for weapons. “My background and experience? I’ve worked in my, uh…family business since I was about eight years old. And I have a university degree in finance.” He looked a challenge at her. “What’s yours?”

“I interned for years at Spinney Industries, worked full time there for three years. Before that I earned a BA at Harvard, in English.”

“Oh. Harvard.” Alejandro clicked his tongue. “Then I’m afraid I can’t possibly work with you on the project.” He shook his head regretfully.

Her brow beetled. “Why not?”

“It’s just not up to my standards. I’d be slumming.” He kept a straight face as he met her gaze.

“Slumming?” she said, her tone incredulous. “I beg your pardon?”

“No need.”

She made a strangled noise, and he grinned at her. “I’m feeling very egalitarian today, though. I might be willing to have a cup of coffee with you, even though you come from such a no-account family.”

Her mouth worked for a moment and then she laughed. His gamble had paid off: Kate did have a hidden sense of humor. “I’m so flattered.”

“Don’t let it go to your head. So, caffeine? We have fifteen minutes before statistics class.” He put a hand on her back to steer her forward, but she stiffened immediately. Apparently Ms. Spinney didn’t like to be touched. Alejandro removed his hand and she took a deep breath. Interesting.

They walked across the street to a little coffee house, where he discovered that Kate liked her coffee black, just like he did. She pulled a wallet out of her beat-up bag and tried to pay for hers.

“No, no,” he said. “I’ll get this.”

“You don’t have to buy my coffee.”

“I want to.”

“No, really—”

“I am buying your coffee, Kate,” he said with finality. He didn’t care if, as a Spinney, she probably had a personal net worth bigger than the entire tax base of Peru. He stepped in front of her and put five dollars on the counter. Then he looked down at her little toe, poking out of its loafer. He winked at her. “You need to save your money for new shoes.”

Her mouth opened and closed, and then a tide of red washed over her face. “I can afford new shoes. I just happen to like these. They’re comfortable. Broken in.”

“Is that what you call it?” From his superior height, Alejo noticed that one ear poked out of her untidy curls, and even the tip of it was red. “Because you may have noticed that your little piggy, there, is well on its way to the market.”

Her lips twitched in spite of her obvious embarrassment. “No, you’ve got it wrong. Remember, it’s the big toe that goes to market. The little one runs all the way home.”

“Right, I’d forgotten. Well, the poor little guy has a ways to go, if he’s running the whole distance back to Boston.” He handed her one of the paper cups of coffee.

“Thank you. And he just ran away from Boston, so he’s not likely to be running back there anytime soon. But I appreciate your concern.” She took a sip of the coffee, her eyes glinting very green in the morning sunlight.

Alejandro eyed her over the rim of his own cup, as he drank some. “And why did he run away? How did he end up in Miami, of all places?”

His teasing had relaxed her some, since she blew out a breath and said, “Well, the other nine toes in the family shoe were cramping his style a bit. So the little piggy skipped off to business school as far away as possible.” She gave him a wobbly smile.

She was so…adorably uptight. Alejandro wondered what it took for Kate Spinney to relax. He wondered if she relaxed in bed, and what that fragile body looked like naked. Athletic, he guessed.

She seemed edgy just talking in the abstract about her family. So he changed the subject. “Well, some of us are glad that the little piggy ended up here in Miami. She’s awfully cute.”

Red washed over her face again. “I think you gave her a sex change,” she said dryly. “And I’ve been warned about smooth-talking Latin men like you.”

It was his turn to stiffen. “I’m half Peruvian, half American,” Alejandro said. “And we smooth talkers don’t like to be referred to as Latin. We’re from individual countries, and don’t appreciate them being lumped all together.”

“Sorry.”

“About calling me a smooth talker, or a Latin?”

“A Latin.”

He smiled. “That’s okay. You didn’t know.”

“You are a smooth talker.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Why, thank you. I do other things smoothly, too, mi corazon.”

“And a flirt.”

Alejandro found a table and pulled out a chair for her. “I stand accused of terrible crimes. I’m guessing they don’t flirt at Harvard?”

She sat down gingerly, almost suspiciously.

“No, of course not,” he said, deliberately provoking her. “Yankees don’t know how to flirt.”

“We do, too—”

“Well, then, Ms. Spinney, I hereby challenge you to a flirt-off.”

She snorted into her coffee cup. “A flirt-off?”

He nodded. “Yes. And if I win, you have to buy a new pair of shoes—shoes of my choice.”

“What if I win?”

“You won’t. I’m a professional.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“Like I said, it’s not going to happen. So you really shouldn’t worry your pretty little head over it, Kate,” he said, doing his best to wind her up.

“As we’ve discussed, my pretty little head,” she replied in ominous tones, “is Harvard-educated and dislikes patronizing men.” But she softened the statement with a reluctant smile.