Valentine's Theory Read online

  Valentine’s Theory

  by

  Shara Azod

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. This is a work of fiction. All references to real places, people, or events are coincidental, and if not coincidental, are used fictitiously. All trademarks, service marks, registered trademarks, and registered service marks are the property of their respective owners and are used herein for identification purposes only. eBooks are NOT transferable. Re-selling, sharing or giving eBooks is a copyright infringement.

  Valentine’s Theory © 2013 Shara Azod

  Editor: Stephanie Parent

  Cover Art: Marteeka Karland

  Books are NOT transferable. Re-selling, sharing or giving eBooks is a copyright infringement.

  Contents

  Chapter One. 5

  Chapter Two. 6

  Chapter Three. 7

  Chapter Four. 8

  Epilogue. 9

  Chapter One

  “You want me to do what?” Theo knew Dr. Misha Collier was very serious about her research. It had always amused him how someone with very little interpersonal skills could be so deeply fascinated with human relations. Often she would be here in her office for hours after everyone else had gone home, gathering information, comparing statistics. There wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do for her research. But even this was a bit much.

  “I cannot very well hire students to conduct this research.” Pushing her glasses back up the bridge of her nose, she regarded him as if he were dense. No one made him feel quite as...slow. It was preposterous, of course. He had two PhDs in sociology, just like she did. “That would be considered prostitution or some such nonsense. Pornography at the least.” The woman had the nerve to sigh, as if the restrictions that everyone else lived by were beneath her. Maybe they were. The idea of Dr. Collier engaging in pornography was ridiculous. But then, so was this insane idea she was prattling on about now. “The exercise needs to be taped, both before Valentine’s Day and on the ridiculous excuse for retail sales. We are both adults of science. We are surely reasonably sexual compatible. And it is my research. Therefore it only stands to reason we should simply do it ourselves.”

  Theo’s head was spinning. She was seriously suggesting they sleep together. No, not sleep. Have “sexual congress—while taping it, of course,” all for science. And she wanted to tape it. And review it. Twice. Not that he wasn’t physically attracted to her. Despite the fact she seemed to have zero concept of fashion and a closet full of basic oxford button-down shirts and standard slacks, it was hard to miss the very feminine, very inviting curves of her body. To make it worse, she had no clue how unbelievably sexy the whole uptight professor thing she had going on was. All that stern uptightness drove a man crazy. There’d been many a time he’d had to place his briefcase strategically in front of his crotch while in her presence.

  Then there was the fact she really was beautiful. No matter how she tried to disguise it behind glasses and by pulling her hair into a torturously tight bun every freaking day. The woman had been blessed with supermodel looks although again, she didn’t seem to know that. As a fully grown man, he was well aware he shouldn’t spend time daydreaming about kissing those full, sensual lips, taking her hair down and pulling it....

  He couldn’t really be considering this. Who the hell was he kidding? If he said no, she might ask someone else, and that was simply unacceptable. What the good professor didn't know was he had already staked a claim on her luscious person. All those meetings over lunch and dinner she considered outings among colleagues, discussing research and ideas. Theo considered them dates. He let it be known in every way he could that this woman was his. Every man in their department had long since recognized that he considered Misha his. She just had never seemed to notice.

  And in his mind, she was his. The woman wouldn’t eat half the time if he didn't remind her. There were days she was so deep into research on a new theory or writing a paper on her latest finding that she had to be forcibly removed from a computer and dumped into her bed. Currently he was the only one she trusted to remind her to do the things that kept her alive; he had a key to her house, and he was privy to the inner sanctum of her lab and office. The men and women they worked with thought him a miracle worker, getting Misha to accept that she was in fact a human being and not the automaton she liked to believe she was. It was a matter of pride to him. Taking care of the headstrong professor made him happy, damn it.

  Oh yeah, and he was in love with her.

  He was doing this. And by the time they were through, she was going to finally admit they belonged together.

  Misha hoped her brusque departure from the room looked as if she had actual purpose elsewhere, and not like she was running. Which she was. Of all the insane ideas that could have popped into her head, she had to pick a Valentine’s Day experiment? Really? Why couldn’t she just come out and tell Theo how she really felt?

  “Because you are a rotten coward,” she muttered after she’d barricaded herself in her office.

  Ten years. Ten long, excruciating years waiting for Professor Theodore Sullivan, but he’d never made a move. He had poured her into bed when she was too tired to move after working a little too long, had forced food down her throat when she occasionally forgot to eat..okay, those two happened a lot. But he had always been there. He acted like her damn husband. Honestly, she liked it. Loved it, really. Loved feeling cared for and adored. The man had greased her hair, which was amazing considering he was a white dude from a tiny town Minnesota who had never seen hair grease before their third year in grad school. Now he walked into her house like he lived there, ordered her to sit between his knees and went to work on her hair because he knew she’d forgotten. Again.

  And not once in all these years did Theo make the moves on her. At first she had thought he was gay. Weren't all extremely hunky, sensitive, caring men on the other team nowadays? However, a brief affair with Denise Hunt had disabused her of that notion. It had been the absolute worst month in her life, watching the other woman with her hands all over the man that Misha had begun to think of as her exclusive property. And he had liked that shit too, damn his hide. Loved it when Denise ran her witchy fingers through his thick golden brown hair. Misha had no idea why their “thing” ended, but thank God it had. Being nice to denise for Theo’s sake had taken just about all she could bear.

  But that had been like seven years ago. Theo hadn’t dated anyone since. And Misha knew this to be fact because she called him at all hours for odd things and he was always there. She let herself into his condo whenever she chose because she could and he was always alone. Okay yeah, it was perverse, but damn it, Theo was hers!

  This was a huge risk. Although she knew without a doubt Theo cared for her, she had no idea if his feelings were sisterly or if, like her, he wanted to finally move their relationship to a new level. Misha had wracked her brain trying to figure out a way to bring up the subject. The pitiful truth was she had always spent far too much time in books and research and very little trying to get to know those around her. If it weren’t for Theo dragging her to university and departmental events, she probably would have no social life at all. No, no probably to it. It was amazing she and Theo were so close.

  It was all Theo’s doing. He was the one who had refused to be rebuffed by her standoffish manner. For reasons Misha couldn’t begin to guess at, Theo had decided she needed a keeper, and he was the perfect one for that role. Surely he had to feel at least some of the aching desire she felt every time he put his hands on her. She couldn’t
be the only one whose body heated whenever they were close, or who throbbed with a soul-deep need late at night wishing one of them would finally take the initiative.

  Sick and tired of the constant state of arousal that only got worse with time, she simply had to come up with a plan. Something that was plausible and wouldn’t cause her too much embarrassment if all the desire was one-sided. Her research seemed like the perfect solution. Screwing up all the courage she could, she had marched into this lab, dropped her little bomb, and then stalked away, just like she would with any other experiment. The whole videotaping thing seemed a little over the top, but she had to make it plausible right? Besides, it would be one hell of a memento if this was the only shot she had at being with the man she had grown to love.

  Chapter Two

  Oh, God, I am going to throw up. Misha paced her living room. Goosebumps pebbled on her skin even though she felt as if she was raging with fever. Glancing at her phone, she noticed her hand was shaking. There was still time to call this off. She could tell Theo she had a virus or some such. She could tell him it was time for her cycle and she had forgotten. No, wait, that wouldn’t work. He knew when her cycle was, having that damnable app so he could remind her. One would think that was the most humiliating thing her best friend could know about her. Soon he would know another.

  It wasn't that she was a virgin. However, the amount of experience she’d had with sexual intercourse wouldn’t fill a single page in a research paper. Wouldn't fill a paragraph, really. She had given it three good attempts, found the entire experience wanting and decided she could live without it. Until Theo. Why hadn’t she considered that before coming up with this idiotic plan? And why couldn’t she just pick up the phone and tell him it was off?

  She was going to be sick. Feeling utterly ridiculous in one of the two pieces of lingerie she had purchased for the next two days, she turned on her heel and began to stalk back to her bedroom to change. When Theo got here, she would simply explain she couldn't go through with it. She would tell him the truth. Partially. They were colleagues. Things could get awkward. Surely if they were compatible they would have given in to base instincts far before now.

  “Oh, God, I am so screwed,” she moaned, turning back and returning to the living room. Sinking down on the large overstuffed couch she buried her face in her hands.

  As scared as she was to go through with this, she was even more afraid to call it off. Normal everyday conversation didn't come to her like it did everyone else. Emotions were complicated and often defied logic. That left her at a loss. Her brain couldn’t process things that weren't logical very well; things like her feelings for Theo. She didn't understand why he made her feel all hot and sweaty, or why she felt as if something inside her was melting whenever he did something thoughtful. Having read about interpersonal relationships, studying it, she intellectually understood she had a crush, but usually crushes wore off. Hers only got worse with time.

  If she didn't go through with this, she may lose her only chance at that elusive thing other women were always prattling about. She wasn't about to even think the word because she was still not sure it existed. So in a way, this really was an experiment. Only she was the test subject in more ways than one. And she had involved the man she trusted most in the world under semi-false pretenses. She didn't want to see if people reacted differently on the commercialized holiday for lovers than any other day. She wanted to see if she was capable of having a full relationship with someone on a truly intimate level.

  Okay, that was another half-truth. She wanted Theo. She craved Theo. But was she capable of giving herself completely to another? If so, then it would truly be with Theo. He was her rock, her hero...

  The chime of the doorbell startled her out of her chain of thought. Oh God, he was here.

  Theo had driven around the block four times, turned around and started back home twice, and yet he ended up on the doorstep of Misha’s small cottage right on time. This was seriously twisted. As much as he wanted Misha—hell, want was putting it lightly—he shouldn’t be taking advantage of her like this. He should just walk in there and tell her exactly how he felt.

  Riiiiight. And watch her blank stare before she kicked him out of her life for good. As twisted as it was, he would rather be her “friend and colleague” than to not be in her life at all. To confess how he felt before going through with this ridiculous experiment would possibly guarantee she’d never want to see him again. He just wasn’t sure he could go through with this whole thing without giving himself away.

  Still, he was going to go through with it. The alternative being unacceptable, this was the last option left to him. He’d tried talking himself out of it, but he just couldn't seem to figure out a way to get Misha to understand he was in love with her. To tell her he wanted her more than he wanted his next breath. Or more truthfully, he was way too chicken shit to tell her to her face how he felt. He kept expecting one day she would catch on. But for ten long years she never had. The only glimmer of hope he’d ever gotten was how insanely jealous she’d been over his very brief fling with Denise Hunt. That had been the one of the few things that had given him so much hope in the first place. As soon as he noticed how upset Misha had become over Denise, he’d dropped her like a hot potato. But that had been seven years ago. Since then, nothing.

  He was going to have to tell her. It would be dishonest not to. Just...after. Because if he didn't touch her, hold her, kiss her—just once—he was going to lose his mind.

  Mentally pulling up his big boy pants, Theo rang the doorbell. He had a key, he could’ve just let himself in, but it just seemed wrong. Expecting to wait a while, as generally Misha was reading or typing or jotting down notes or—

  Sweet Mother Mary and her son Baby Jesus!

  Theo’s knees almost gave out as he beheld a woman that had to be as opposite from Professor Misha Collier as Dr. Jekyll was to Mr. Hyde. The woman who swung open the door, wide, was wearing a deep red lace teddy that hugged her very luscious curves like second skin. The crimson color was perfect against the darkness of her skin. Her bountiful breasts stood out, full and tempting, her dark legs bare, yet shimmering. And her hair fell down softly to just above her shoulders, not pulled back in a ruthless bun.

  “Are you praying?” Theo blinked at the sound of the incredulous question. Had he said that out loud? “Theo, are you all right? We can most certainly call this off if you—”

  “No!” Okay, he certainly hadn’t meant to shout. Did she not realize how she looked? Standing there. At her front door. Door wide open. Shit.

  Chapter Three

  Misha barely had time to blink before finding herself forcefully moved back out of the doorway into her home. Theo didn’t shove her. Instead he picked her up as if she weighed nothing at all. The man didn't let her go either, but turned with her in his arms and slammed the door closed before locking it securely. Latching the chain and everything. She’d fully expected him to put her back on her feet after that, only he didn’t. Instead he stalked straight to her bedroom, dumping her unceremoniously on the bed.

  The thought occurred that at the very least she should feel outraged at being manhandled. That was the normal reaction for something like this, right? Only, she was thrilled. Who knew Theo was so strong? Yes, he was larger than most academics in height and in build. She’d often admired his physique, she’d just never considered that all those muscles could be used for such a delightful purpose.

  “Do you—have you—Misha, look at yourself!” Theo sputtered, waving his hands at her person.

  One glance down and heat suffused her face. Oh yeah, the teddy. She’d bought this, and the other one in hopes that she could perhaps entice Theo into getting in the mood. Studies indicated men like a show of skin, and weren't as picky about the condition of the skin as women were led to believe. In her panic she'd completely forgotten she had the damn thing on.

  “Oh yes, well that.” There was no point in being coy about the lingerie at least. E
ven if she had brought him here under false pretenses. “My research shows that men are not particularly finicky about the female when blatant sexuality is displayed.”

  “And you thought you needed that?” He sounded completely baffled. Misha could not recall Theo being this dense. Maybe it was the lingerie. Must’ve thrown him for a loop.

  “Of course I needed it,” she patiently explained as if he were one of her freshman students instead of a professor of psychology and sociology. “I asked you here to engage in an act in which you needed to be aroused. These things tend to make men aroused. Are you not aroused?”

  Shit. If he wasn’t she was going to have to do it manually. No worries, she’d read up on it and was quite eager to engage in some of the activities she had often dreamed about doing with Theo. If he would allow it, of course. Maybe he needed to relax first? A drink seemed to get people to lower inhibitions. It even allowed some to pretend they were with the person of their choice rather than the person at hand.

  “I will get you a drink.” Misha bounded off the bed and attempted to go fetch the wine she had purchased just in case, only Theo moved directly in front of her, halting her progress.

  “Not aroused? Are you serious?”

  Misha’s face fell. Theo was upset. He didn't want this. It had all been a horrible mistake. She had no one to blame but herself, really. Had she been honest, it would have at least given him the opportunity to let her down easy. As it was, she felt as if there were a pit in her stomach. She felt sick, humiliated.

  “This was a mistake.” Turning so he wouldn't see the hurt on her face, she moved toward the dresser that held her sweats. The drive to cover herself from head to toe was suddenly paramount. “You can leave. In fact I insist on it. Honestly, this wasn’t—”