Lauren hovered in the doorway of the command center. The place was buzzing with activity. On the wall furthest from the door, three large screen television sets were playing the news; CNN, BBC, and Al-Jazeera in English. Faces seemed most intent upon BBC, which was covering the ongoing eruption in Iceland.
Against one wall was a row of computers, several were occupied by what appeared to be grad students. On the one closest to her, Lauren recognized data from the USGS on seismic activity off the West Coast. Nothing special, this sort of information was generally available on the Internet. On the other wall were a couple of doors, probably private offices.
Lauren scanned the room once more, looking for Brent and seeking any familiar face at all. But she did not recognize anyone. She hesitated for a moment, reluctant to enter this inner sanctum. She had already turned and was about to leave when the door opened from outside.
In walked Brent, she recognized the tall, thin auburn headed beauty with him immediately. It might have been five years since they had spared at an international conference on climate change, but Lauren swore that this woman did not look one day older. She envied the woman, whom she knew was almost a decade older than her, but could still pass for twenty-something.
Monique Fournier was a climatologist. The glorified weather girl of sorts had made a name for herself by jumping into the fray surrounding global warming early. But she had quickly diverged from the consensus, favoring instead the theory of a New Ice Age brought about by the halting of the Gulf Stream. It was the science of Hollywood movies, and Monique had dropped from favor because of her alliance. For the past five years, she had not published a single article in a peer-reviewed journal.
Neither had Brent; it suddenly occurred to Lauren. Was this place what they had been up to? Looking at the natural way that they laughed with one another, a streak of jealousy coursed through her. Had they been up to something more than just junk science?
The thought tormented her as scenes from the morning's lovemaking with Brent played like a bad movie in her head; Lauren tried to push past them. "Excuse me. I was just leaving."
Monique smiled; a look that Lauren always felt was a little too perfect, a little too practiced, and much too calculating. "Lauren, dear, so nice to see you again. I hope you are getting settled. Brent was telling me about his trip to England."
Lauren could only imagine what Brent must have said to the woman. How easy it had been to convince her to come. Easier still to get her into his bed. Hell, not even a bed. Rutting around in the wild like a couple of senseless teenagers. She cursed herself for being a fool. It was apparent from looking at these two that it was she, who did not belong here — she, who was the third wheel.
"I just bet he was," she spat, pinning Brent with a glare that she hoped conveyed her annoyance with him for taking this woman into his counsel. What was between them was between them. Certainly not some joke to be shared with this...siren.
Brent cleared his throat. "Something isn't quite right with the model. We were trying to figure it out. I told Monique how glad I was for a fresh set of eyes."
"Yes, you always were so good at the application side of things. Algorithms and data checking is more your forte. Those kinds of things do my head in. Brent and I are much more the big picture, theory types," she purred.
Lauren fought back the urge to slap the woman. If she had spent any time doing the calculations and checking her ludicrous theories, her career might have amounted to more than merely consulting with Hollywood on low budget sci-fi movies. "Yes, well, without the right maths, those theories will never be accepted by our peers. Is that why you have not published in what? Five years? Ten?"
Monique shifted uncomfortably. But it was Brent that stepped in then. "Monique has been a bit busy, helping me out around here. We have all watched enough of those movies to know that what we are working on here would never be accepted anyway," he smiled. That thousand-watt grin that he always used to smooth things over with her.
After all these years, it should not have worked. She should have pushed right past him. She should have said enough with this whole crazy thing. She should have demanded that he put her and the girls right back on a plane home.
But she did none of those things. Instead, she said, "Yes, well, if you still want my help then perhaps those fresh eyes you were talking about could find where your calculations are off." She turned to Monique, smiling proudly she added, "We wouldn't want Monique to do her head in with all those algorithms now, would we?"
Brent laughed. The deep, rich melody washed across her skin like a thunderstorm after a long drought. Goosebumps rose on her arms. Her nipples pebbled painfully inside the lace that suddenly seemed too rough for her skin. She could feel the blush rising from her chest, up her neck to her face. She knew that in moments, her cheeks would be the same bright red as her hair.
Monique glared at her. "Yes, well, Brent, mon ami, I better get going. There are some other things I need to check on."
Turning back to Lauren, she crooned, "It was nice to see you again, mon cheri. It always amazed me how such a smart woman could be so damned stupid when it came to some things. But at least you had the sense to listen to him this time. I'm sure we'll be seeing lots more of each other this week."
Before Lauren could come up with a pithy reply, the woman had turned and disappeared back through the door. She felt the angry frustration coursing through her body. Fuming, she turned towards Brent. "You want to show me your formulas. Anything that woman had something to do with is bound to have big holes in it."
"Monique may be unconventional, sweetheart, but she is the second best mind I have ever met." Insulted by his words, Lauren started to push past him. "You always were an arrogant bugger. Since the two 'best' minds have already been working on the damned thing, I don't see what I could possibly add."
He smiled, "Second best. Like I told you last night, darling, you were always the one mind that I loved sparring with the most."
Lauren looked down at her shoes. The heat was returning to her cheeks. Hesitantly she said, "Oh well, sorry then. If you want to show me the data and algorithms, I'll see what I can do."
Brent placed his hand at the small of her back and turned her back towards the large room. "I'll get you set up in my office. You still take your coffee black? Afraid there isn't any tea around here, not much call for it. But I'll ask Jill to add some to the supply stocks for the command center."
"Coffee will be fine," she mumbled as she followed his lead across the room towards a closed door.
Coffee and tea were not what occupied her mind. The familiar way he touched her, even something as casual as a hand on her back, it was enough to distract anyone. How was she supposed to focus upon complex theorems when he touched her? When he looked at her like that.
Opening the door, he ushered her into the small office. It had only a desk, chair, and bookshelf. But she noticed there was a framed picture on his desk. It was the last family picture they had taken seven years ago. She picked it up as he fumbled with the computer, turning the machine on, and entering his password.
Her fingers caressed the lines of his face through the glass. She remembered that day well. They had taken Elise to another doctor. She was supposedly the best in her field. But Brent had stormed out halfway through the meeting, unsatisfied with the grim prognosis that the woman offered. Lauren had finished the appointment alone.
