Part 6 (1/2)
”Sheesh, Brody, how many of those extortion contracts has your agent executed for you?”
Her mouth twitched slightly at the corners and Brody realized he desperately wanted to see what she looked like when she smiled. h.e.l.l, he wanted to know everything about her.
”You said yourself the piece of fish is larger than I need. Don't you want to make sure I eat it all? Or do you have other plans for the evening?” Even as he asked the question, he didn't want to know if the answer was yes. Jealousy clawed at his belly, there was no mistaking that for hunger. Unless it was his hunger for her.
She crossed her arms over her chest. ”You can't handle not getting your way, can you, Brody?”
”Is that a yes or a no?” he ground out.
”I really should get home. I have lots of data a.n.a.lysis to finish tonight.”
Triumph surged through his veins. She wasn't meeting another guy for dinner. ”Fish is brain food. Stay and eat a quick dinner first.”
She shot him a measuring glance before turning and placing the salmon in the oven. He wasn't sure, but he thought he heard her mumbling something about him being spoiled as he grabbed two plates out of the cabinet.
”So what type of data are you a.n.a.lyzing?” he asked.
Carrying the lackl.u.s.ter salad to the table, she studied him carefully, as if to a.s.sess whether or not he could understand what she was researching. It galled him that she apparently thought he was nothing more than a dumb jock.
”Actually, I'm studying the effects certain foods have on the body's athletic performance,” she said, evidently deciding he could grasp the basics. ”That's how I was familiar with reactive hypoglycemia. I've been using a group of high school swimmers to gather my data, but now I can use you instead. And, since I'll be able to really regulate what you eat, my data will be more precise.”
Brody wasn't sure he liked the idea of being her human guinea pig, but he had been the one to force the contract. She'd just found a way to use it to her advantage. As he pulled a bottle of pinot grigio from the fridge, he reminded himself again that Shannon was a force to be reckoned with and he couldn't manipulate her the way he would any other woman.
He poured the wine into a gla.s.s.
”You can't have that!”
He turned to find her staring in horror at the winegla.s.s, the basket of bread in her hand, nearly a casualty.
”Give me a break. I'm not that stupid, Shannon. The wine's for you.” He took the basket from her hand before she dumped it on the floor, putting it and the winegla.s.s next to their plates.
Shannon had the grace to blush. ”Oh, well you shouldn't have bothered. I don't drink wine. It makes me silly.”
Brody laughed. ”All the more reason you should have some. You're the most serious person I know.”
Her face dimmed and he felt like a heel. ”Shannon, come sit down and tell me about your research while the fish cooks,” he pleaded.
She looked as if she wanted to be anywhere but in his kitchen as she reluctantly slid into the chair at the wide breakfast bar. Her mind seemed to be warring with itself as she scrunched up her brow and contemplated the winegla.s.s in front of her before finally taking a sip.
”It's pretty boring, Brody. Are you sure you want to hear about it?” she asked shyly.
Brody would listen to her explain the theory of relativity if she kept looking at him like she was just now. He nodded his encouragement.
”It's complicated, so keep up.”
So much for her vulnerability.
The next half hour flew by as she explained carbohydrate burn and ketones and how his body processed glucose. He ate his dinner-capers included-in rapt fascination of her knowledge and exuberance about the science of nutrition. Despite her earlier warning about the subject being complicated, she took her time to explain the concepts in a way he could relate and easily understand. She would make a wonderful teacher.
When she'd finished, their plates were clean and her winegla.s.s was empty, leaving a soft glow on her cheeks. He wasn't sure if it was the wine or her excitement for the subject matter, but he did know he liked this relaxed Shannon. Somehow he didn't think she let herself enjoy this state too often.
”No wonder Nate is so nasty to you,” he said in all sincerity. ”He's afraid of you. You're brilliant, Shannon.”
Her face flushed deeper and he felt a measure of satisfaction at making her happy.
”Why did you pick nutrition?” he asked as he cleared both their plates to the sink.
”I was the cook in the family. Mama always worked in the evenings and Meemaw fried everything until it was unrecognizable as anything other than a shoe.” She actually laughed and Brody was transfixed. ”It was a matter of self-preservation, I guess. Then I discovered that if I ate properly, I would swim faster and what was once a ch.o.r.e became part of my training regimen.”
”You swim?”
”Since I was seven. It's how I was able to go to college. I swam backstroke for the Longhorns for four years.”
He wasn't sure why he was so surprised, she had the build of a sleek backstroker.
Shannon twirled her fingers around the stem of her winegla.s.s. ”It was nice to have something I was good at.”
”Did your sister swim?” He sat back down next to her, his own fingers itching to reach out and stroke her the same way she was touching the gla.s.s.
”Yeah, every morning until we were twelve. Meemaw made her stop because the chlorine was too damaging on her hair. Teryn could have argued that it didn't matter, she wore a wig for pageants, but truth be told, she hated getting up at five thirty every morning.”
”Your grandmother didn't care about your hair?” Brody wasn't sure why, but he felt defensive of Shannon.
She gave a self deprecating laugh. ”No, my hair didn't matter. I wasn't the pretty one.”
An ugly burn settled in his stomach.
”So tell me your secrets, Brody. For instance, why does a grown man in his late twenties have a basket full of Tonka trucks in his great room?”
Brody relaxed in the chair again, ready to divulge anything she asked of him. ”I'll give you three reasons: Adam, Chandler, and Rachel, my nephews and niece.”
Her eyes danced. ”Do they come over to play with you often?”
”Like I said, my family is in and out of here a lot. One of my sisters is working on a big cla.s.s action case with a law firm here in Baltimore, so she's in every other week. My oldest sister Gwen, mother to Adam and Rachel, is my a.s.sistant, so she tries to visit a couple of times a month. The sister closest to me in age, Tricia, is getting married in a few weeks, so she hasn't been down lately. Chandler's mom, my sister Ashley, is my stylist so she comes down to go through my clothes once a month.”
”Pardon?” she asked. ”Did you say your sister is your stylist?”
Okay, maybe he should have been a little more circ.u.mspect with the types of things he shared with her. ”She's in the fas.h.i.+on business and she figures it's a reflection on her if I look bad in public.”
Shannon's smile was wide now. ”And what exactly does she do?”
”I don't know.” He was growing a little more defensive. ”She coordinates my clothes so everything looks like it goes together.”
”Does she leave you a list or something?”
”No. She organizes them in my closet.” Yep, he'd definitely gone too far if the twinkle in her eyes was any indication.