Marriage In Six Easy Lessons. Mollie Molay

degree so I could do research and teach, hasn’t left me a lot of time to pursue music, but music, in particular rock music, is my passion. It’s the one thing I do that satisfies my soul, and I find I must make time for it.”

      Fascinated by the little speech and what it revealed about the man, April tried to imagine the dry and factual world Sullivan had grown up in. Her heart wept at the thought of a child’s yearning for the freedom to express himself that had had to wait until he was a grown man.

      “You must hate your father,” she said softly.

      “No, not at all,” he replied. “And as I get older, I think I actually understand him better. The divorce from my mother damn near bankrupted him financially. And then her accidental death shortly after they reconciled bankrupted him emotionally.”

      April made a sound of sympathy.

      “The only way Dad said he could be sure I would never lose everything I had,” Sullivan continued, “was to see to it I concentrated on my education and to keep women on a back burner.” He shrugged. “I haven’t been exactly overjoyed at the way I live, but I can’t fault him for that. He meant well.”

      April thought of her own childhood. She and her two older brothers had been very competitive, each trying to outdo the other in everything—school, sports and parental attention. Her growing-up years hadn’t been all fun and games, but at least she’d had two loving parents.

      “And so now you have your band,” she said softly.

      His face brightened. “Yeah. I picked up guitar several years back from a friend of mine. Turns out I’m pretty decent at the guitar. It was just a matter of time before two of my friends taught me the ropes and we formed a band. We trade off. They write the music, I write the lyrics. We try to practice a couple of times a week and perform about twice a month. I don’t mind saying we’re pretty good.”

      “And you’re playing tonight.”

      “Yes, but don’t worry, I’ll be ready for you tomorrow morning.”

      Unable to explain her reaction to Sullivan’s unexpected fall from the lofty academic perch on which she’d placed him, April waved him off. “It doesn’t really matter. Go on, have fun. I’ll see you here tomorrow.”

      April followed Lucas to her office door and stood watching the envious glances that followed him to the elevator. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so surprised at his choice for recreational activities. For a man so serious, so preoccupied with sociological research, performing in a rock band had to be a harmless way of releasing emotions.

      She turned back to her desk and tried to concentrate on Sullivan’s article. It would have been a lot easier to be objective if the author’s warm brown eyes, his innate masculine charm and his story about his childhood didn’t keep getting in the way.

      Sullivan really did need to be introduced to a woman’s real world for more reasons than one, she mused as she scowled at an offensive phrase in the manuscript. Still, becoming too emotionally involved with him wasn’t a good idea. Not only as his editor, but as a woman. She’d have to rethink their relationship.

      But not before she paid a visit to the Roxy.

      “COOL!” RITA SQUEALED when April called and invited her to go with her to the Roxy to hear Sullivan play. “Are you talking about the same guy who wrote that mating game article?”

      “Bingo.” April smiled at Rita’s surprised reaction. After reading his article, the idea of Lucas Sullivan playing his heart out with a guitar surprised her, too.

      “I’m all yours.” Rita’s eager voice came over the phone. “What time?”

      “I’ll pick you up around eight.” April laughed as she hung up the phone. She could visualize her hip friend reaching for her lipstick—a bloodred hue to match the hot blood that ran in her veins.

      Not that April was fooled. She knew that Rita’s frank talk was meant to shock, and that she, like herself and Lili, was waiting for the right man to come along.

      Again April tried, without success, to concentrate on Sullivan’s article. She had a growing suspicion she’d been wrong about him. There were his brief flashes of sexy innuendos, the occasional glint in his eye, and now, his music. Rock, no less!

      She sighed as she put a question mark alongside one of his rules. Why was she wasting time trying to figure out this man?

      A secret visit to the Roxy was definitely in order.

      OVER RITA’S OBJECTIONS, April led the way past the sign on the door that announced the Rocking Eagles were appearing that night. She claimed a small table in the far corner. The room was dark, except for the flashes of color coming from roaming klieg lights. A billboard by the door announced Sullivan’s band—suddenly the other patrons began to cheer and called for the band to begin.

      The stage darkened. The slow, sensuous beat of a drum sounded. A bass guitar joined in, then a keyboard. An unseen voice began to sing. Pandemonium broke out. The small dance floor in front of the bandstand became a sea of swaying bodies.

      “Where’s Sullivan?” Rita shouted above the noise.

      April’s eyes were riveted to the stage. “I don’t see him. Maybe this isn’t his band, after all.”

      April climbed onto her chair to get a better look at the musicians on the stage. The drummer wore black slacks and a black T-shirt. A red bandanna held back his long hair. The bass player wore black jeans and a red T-shirt with Rocking Eagles emblazoned across the front. The keyboard player was also in red and black, clearly the band’s colors.

      But where was Sullivan?

      Suddenly the drummer beat a sort of drumroll, and another band member, this one in black leather pants and an open black shirt and wielding a red guitar, leaped onto the stage. He grabbed the microphone and began to sing a song about the train being late at the station. Dazed, April took the words to mean that he’d been too late to tell his girl he loved her in time to claim her for his own.

      She took a closer look. Sullivan?

      April climbed down from her chair and sat. Either the man was Sullivan’s identical twin or she’d been had. How else could the man have come up with an article like his with a straight face?

      “What a hottie!” Rita exclaimed admiringly. “If that’s the guy you were talking about, April, you’ve got yourself a real man!”

      April’s head swam. “Save your breath, the man’s not mine. After tonight, I’m not even sure what I’d do with him if he were!”

      She grabbed Rita by the wrist. “I’ve got to get out of here before the lights come on and Sullivan sees me.”

      Rita hung back. “We just got here! I’m having a great time!”

      “I’m not, and we’re leaving,” April said with a nervous glance at the stage. Sullivan had turned his back on the audience and was sliding sensually across the stage, his leather-clad behind eliciting cheers from female fans. She gulped. “Hurry! I’ll make it up to you, I swear. I’ll even take you out for a hamburger on the way home.”

      “A hamburger isn’t going to make up for missing Sullivan move that tush of his,” Rita said with a longing look at the stage. “Who would have thought it?”

      “Not me,” April said as she realized she would never be able to look Lucas straight in the eyes again without seeing his swaying hips and naked chest.

      Chapter Three

      The next morning, April made a point to be in her office early. A rock musician might be unpredictable, but the man who wrote “The Mating Game” was bound to be on time.

      As she settled down at her desk, she thought about the rule “A woman must strive for compatibility, rather than try to be sexy.”

      Compatibility