If there’s one thing that got Wyatt riled up, it was people who looked at him only to see his father. Hard as Wyatt worked to step out from under his monumental shadow, it somehow lurked in every corner. Wyatt had hoped Oxford would be different, that he’d been invited here because of his groundbreaking research in a field they were looking to expand in.
He held no illusions that his family name was a consideration in the faculty’s invitation, but he was confident that therealvalue he brought to the table stemmed from his reputation as a scientist and notable achievements. Now Mia had his confidence wavering, which was unacceptable.
Mia had to go.
The Soirée
Wyatt
His welcome partyturned out to be more of a soirée for the entire faculty, held in what Giles told him was a former gentlemen’s club. It was the traditional kind, including a formal dining room, library, bar, and billiard rooms. Rooms once used for socializing had either been turned into private meeting rooms or had the walls removed to expand the bar area for social gatherings.
The place had been upgraded and adjusted with modern amenities by the new owners, turned into a study café during the day and an exclusive event venue during the night, but the ambiance remained.
“Doctor Jenkins.” Wyatt turned to look over his shoulder, swallowing an exasperated sigh when he saw yet another Professor from the division approach him with a broad smile. He’djustmanaged to make it to the bar after forty minutes of mingling, and more than anything, he needed a break from answering the same questions repeatedly.
“Professor Carlyle, nice to finally meet you face to face.” Wyatt took the older man’s hand for a firm shake. He was well versed in the art of schmoozing; it was more of a reflex by now.Probably for the best, Wyatt thought with internal resignation, fully aware he wasn’t in the mind space for any kind of niceties after his morning encounter with Mia.
Carlyle took another twelve minutes of his time, not bothering to offer him a drink, even though he had found Wyatt at the bar.
“You’re good at that,” Mia said from behind him. Wyatt spun, startled, and blinked a few times, wondering if he should go on the defensive right now or wait to see what she wanted.
“At what?” he finally asked, leaning on the bar to catch the bartender’s attention. “Whiskey sour and…?” He looked at Mia with a questioning gaze.
“A Vesper, please,” Mia said before turning to face him. “At the semi-political socialization.”
“I would thank you, but I get the distinct feeling that anything you say to me is meant to offend.” Mia’s lips stretched into an amused smile, completely unabashed by his forward accusation. “Well, you’ll have to try harder than that, Doctor Bissonnette.”
“Oh, but I’ve only just begun, Doctor Jenkins,” she retorted, her amusement growing, as if this was nothing but a big game.
“I’m not going anywhere, Mia, your time would be better spent working with me than against me.” Mia just smiled a cryptic smile, accepting her drink and lifting it in his direction with a small salute before taking a sip and humming in appreciation.
“James Bond’s original cocktail of choice, invented by Sir Ian Fleming himself.”
Wyatt barely suppressed a snort. Mia did look like a bona fide Bond girl, with her hair slicked back and a little black dress hugging all her willowy curves. She had legs for miles, the kind of long limbs that a man could kiss up all night.
“Like what you see, Doctor Jenkins?” Her head tilted to the side, her eyes returning a roaming look. Wyatt took a step forward and sipped on his own drink before leaning closer to her.
“Do you, Doctor Bissonnette?” he asked in a low voice, and Mia angled her head to capture his gaze, her witchy eyes hypnotizing him. “I’ve never seen that eye color before.”
“Don’t expect me to fall for your notorious charms, Wyatt.” Her slight breathlessness was telling him a different story, and though he knew better, Wyatt enjoyedthisgame far more than the one Mia was trying to play.
“You haven’t answered my question.”
One corner of Mia’s lips lifted, and she placed her empty martini glass on the bar before reaching up to straighten his perfectly straight collar. “You wear royal blue very well.”
“Nowwho’s working who with their charms?” Wyatt loved that his retort made her laugh. The entire exchange made him hopeful that, with time, they would reach common ground and have an amicable, even friendly, work relationship.
As angry as he was at Mia’s assertions this morning, by the time evening had rolled in, he’d come to see things from her perspective. She had dedicated her entire career to this hub and was its loudest advocate. It meant more to her than a job she was passed up for. It was her world, her life.
Also, he realized how bad it would look if he threw out their lead researcher so soon after he had arrived. So, although it was entirely in his power to get rid of Mia, he decided he should at least try to make this work, give her a chance to adjust and see he wasn’t all bad.
They were still standing dangerously close, Wyatt realized, with Mia’s fingers still gliding under his collar, sending a heated rush through his veins every time they brushed his pulse. He needed to step back, but she smelled like pears and sexy promises, and Wyatt found he didn’t have the will to tear away from her.
A movement caught the corner of his eye, and he flicked his gaze to another faculty member with that same sort of‘I want a piece of you’grin walking their way. “Damn it.”
Mia’s brow crinkled at his sudden change in demeanor, her gaze following his. She made a silent oh, then grabbed Wyatt’s hand, pulling him after her to the dance floor. Wyatt took her hand in his, resting the other at the small of Mia’s back with practiced ease, taking the lead in the waltz currently playing over the speakers.
She felt warm and soft under his palm, deceivingly delicate as she let him sway her to the music. Wyatt knew the sense of control was an illusion. Mia wasn’t one to hand over the reins, but Wyatt allowed himself to enjoy the moment.