Elizabeth Bevarly - Beauty And The Brain

“What?” he asked, genuinely confused. “All I did was take your hand.”

“That’s exactly what I mean.”

“But—”

“Just stay away from me, Willis,” she said, backing up a few more steps.

“What, you can’t even stand my touch?” he snarled. He shook his head in confusion, his own anger swelling to life now. “Hey, you were the one who came up to me, not the other way around,” he reminded her.

“Yeah, and it was a pretty dumb thing to do, too.” She took another step backward, her eyes clouding even more.

“Rosemary...” he began, taking an experimental step forward.

Why he bothered he couldn’t imagine. He’d never made an effort to smooth out the feathers he ruffled on her before. But there was something in her eyes now that hadn’t been there fifteen years ago when he’d challenged her. Back in high school, Rosemary had always fought him with every ounce of indignation she possessed. Now, however, it was almost as if she were giving up when the battle hadn’t even begun.

And before he could say whatever it was he had intended to tell her—which, frankly, he couldn’t remember now—she turned her back on him and began stalking once more toward her garage.

“I have to go to work,” she announced stiffly.

As he stood there watching her mutely, she unfolded the doors on the aged garage and, in no time at all, was backing out of the driveway in a shiny red convertible that Willis found in no way surprising. That was Rosemary. All flash, no substance. Great body, but no head at all. Impulsive, spontaneous, breezy, fun-loving. Everything he wasn’t. Everything he tried to avoid.

Yet everything he’d always ended up looking for in another woman, and had never been able to find.

Dammit.

Rosemary March had ruined him for other women, and he hadn’t even had the opportunity to experience her. In spite of the fact that she was the last kind of female he should be attracted to, she’d been the first one he’d had a crush on, the first one he’d lusted after, however stupid it had been for him to want her.

And somehow, that had defined his taste in women for the rest of his life. Although he’d tried to establish relationships with good, solid, intelligent women—attractive women at that, and women who appreciated what he had to offer intellectually, women who likewise challenged his own IQ—he suddenly realized that he was doomed to want spirit and fluff, instead. Like Rosemary March.

As he watched the little red sports car with the gorgeous brunette at the wheel disappear around the corner with far more speed than was prudent, Willis realized something else, too. It wasn’t that he was destined to spend his life wanting women like Rosemary March. No, he was condemned to spend his life wanting her. Specifically. Ironically. Erotically. Eternally.

Dammit.

A woman who had nothing to offer him beyond the physical, who would challenge him in none of the intellectual ways he wanted and needed to be challenged. A woman he could certainly be satisfied with sexually, but who would do nothing to fulfill his other, metaphysical, needs. A woman who would make his daily life hell because he would constantly be tied in knots wanting more than she could ever hope to give him.

A woman who would never even like him, let alone love him, he reminded himself. So what was he getting all worked up about anyway? It wasn’t like Rosemary would ever return any overture he might make. Thanks to some of the things he’d said and done to her fifteen years ago, she would despise him for the rest of her life. Worrying about a future with her was pointless, because he didn’t have a hope in hell of having a future with her. Not that he truly wanted one anyway.

He expelled a restless breath and scrubbed a hand viciously through his hair, then turned back to the task at hand. He had a lot of unloading to do, he reminded himself, and a lot of unpacking, too. And not just of the material things he’d brought with him on this particular journey, either. Willis was carrying around a lot more baggage than he’d realized, and he’d brought it all back home to Endicott. Yeah, he had a lot of sorting and unpacking to do while he was in town. And a good bit of it was in no way scientific.

For an intelligent man, he thought to himself, he sure did do some stupid things.

Rosemary pulled into her driveway after work and sat in her car with the motor off, staring at her front door. She was actually dreading to enter the house she’d loved all her life, fearful of what she would find inside. Visions of the new-and-improved Willis had assailed her all day while she was at work, making her lose her place and forget what she was doing. She’d done nothing but make mistakes—dumb mistakes—the whole time she was working. And she’d felt like an idiot as a result.

Because all she’d been able to do, instead, was daydream about Willis. Willis draped over her sofa with the Sunday sports page. Willis sharing a cup of coffee with her in the morning before she left for work. Willis mowing the grass in the backyard. Or changing a spark plug on her car. Or lifting a baby high above his head with a laugh. Or leaving the bathroom amid a puff of steam, wearing nothing but a loose towel wrapped around his waist.

She squeezed her eyes shut as that last scene unfolded in her brain. Boy, was she desperate. The first guy that wandered into her house, she had him nailed down for husband-and-father material.

Rosemary would have been lying if she said she didn’t want to settle down with the right man. But she just hadn’t met the right man. Most of the boys she’d gone to high school with had left town to go to college, and they’d either stayed gone or come back with wives or fiancées. And the few single newcomers who had managed to wander into Endicott just hadn’t been her type. She would have loved to be married and raising kids by now, had she found someone who wanted to share such a future with her.

But this was Willis she was fantasizing about now, she reminded herself ruthlessly. Willis, for God’s sake. Willis!

Willis who hated her guts and made her feel like an imbecile. Who dismissed her with all the consideration of a mosquito about to be squashed. Who would do nothing but make her feel like less and less of a functional human being if she was ever stupid enough to get involved with him.

Not that he had offered her any indication that he wanted any kind of involvement, she reminded herself. Oh, no. On the contrary, he’d made it clear from the get-go that he thought she was still the simpleminded, slack-brained know-nothing he’d pegged her as back in tenth grade. And considering the idiocy of her daydreams at work, she wasn’t entirely sure she could disagree with him at the moment.

Of course, there could be a perfectly logical explanation for her fantasies, she reminded herself hopefully. Comet Bob was looming out there on the horizon, and everyone in Endicott knew that Bob was responsible for creating a cosmic interference that wreaked all kinds of havoc with the townsfolk, not the least of which was driving together romantically two people who were normally at polar opposites.

Yeah, that was it, she told herself. The comet might just be within range enough now to be putting everyone under its cosmic influence, herself included. It was entirely possible that Rosemary was simply succumbing to a galactic disturbance over which she had absolutely no control whatsoever. The reason she suddenly found Willis at the center of her romantic fantasies wasn’t that she was honestly attracted to him, but that she’d simply been pulled into the sphere of Bob’s influence.

Yeah, that was it, she thought again. Maybe she could just blame the whole thing on Bob.

Then again, maybe Bob had nothing to do with it, she thought irritably. Then again, maybe she was just developing a big ol’ whopping crush on Willis Random.