Off the Clock. Roni Loren

to start up. “I, uh, still have a lot of stuff to wrap up before Professor Roberts gets back.”

      He frowned and slipped socks on. “I’m sorry. I’m sure helping me has put you behind. You need me to pitch in? I’m fast at data entry.”

      “Uh, it’s okay. I’ll be fine. You can get some rest. I won’t bother you.”

      “You’re not—” He grimaced and shook his head. “You’re not bothering me. I just—I wasn’t expecting company tonight.”

      “Are you okay?” The question slipped out before she could stop it.

      “I’m fine.” The words were like a whip snapped.

      She winced at the stinging impact.

      He blew out a breath and looked up at her, weariness in those blue eyes. “Sorry. I’m—It’s just been a shit day.”

      She shifted on her feet, not sure what to do with this version of the normally upbeat guy she’d gotten to know. He looked like he could use a hug, but she didn’t like random people giving her those, so she wouldn’t assume that he’d be cool with that either. Plus, she’d probably pant or drool on him or something, being that close. “Anything I can do to help?”

      “Distraction’d be good. Wanna get drunk with me?”

      She glanced at the whiskey bottle. “I don’t drink.”

      His brows went up. “Ever?”

      “Not my thing.” No way was she testing her genes with a big heaping dose of mood-altering substances. “Maybe another kind of distraction?”

      “Wanna fuck?”

      The question zipped right up her spine, making her straighten and almost taking her feet out from under her. She hadn’t meant her question that way, but now she realized how what she’d said must’ve sounded. “Uh …”

      Donovan turned away with a groan. “Shit. Just fucking ignore me. I might still be drunk. I didn’t mean to say that.”

      Her mouth was dry, her heart knocking hard against her ribs. She ached to go to him, put her arms around him, make whatever had beat him down today go away. To say, Yes, let’s do that thing you said. Right now. But all she could do was stand like a damn statue in the half-lit room and say, “It’s all right.”

      “No, it isn’t. It’s the opposite of all right.”

      She should leave. Let him deal with whatever was bothering him in private. But she couldn’t make her feet move. “Tell me what’s going on.”

      Donovan went about folding the blanket he’d tossed on the couch, his movements tense. One. Two. Three. He folded sharp lines into the soft quilt. She thought he was going to ignore her completely, but then finally, he spoke. “My parents were killed in a home invasion last year.”

      Her heart plummeted into her stomach, making a gust of air pop out of her mouth.

      “Today, the courts dropped the case against the guy who everyone thought did it.” He tossed the folded blanket onto the back of the couch with more force than necessary. “New evidence cleared him. Now there’s not a fucking lead to go on, and the case is cold. My parents are dead, my family is gone, and whoever did it is out there living his goddamned life like nothing ever happened.”

      She closed her eyes, the pain in his voice seeping into her and making her hurt for him. “I’m so sorry.”

      He turned around, his jaw set. “Yeah, well, life isn’t fair, right? The good guys don’t get to win just because they’re good.”

      The bitterness in his voice made her want to cry for him. “Tell me what I can do to help.”

      He stepped toward the desk and put his hand on the notes she’d dropped onto it when she came in. “We can not talk any more about it and work. I’ve learned it’s like running in freezing weather. You don’t feel the cold until you stop moving. As long as I keep focused on the project and keep working, I can block out the rest.” He swiped a hand over his face as if trying to erase all he’d revealed to her in the last few minutes. Mask back in place. “So I’ll go through your notes, and I have some new stuff for you. I really liked your insights on the last one. Have you ever considered switching to this department? I can tell the sleep stuff isn’t really doing it for you.”

      The tone of his voice had switched to all business, the emotions packed up tight behind the safety door, padlock clicked. She knew that mode. It was that place she went when her mom had one of her episodes. Like when she’d come home one day a few years ago and all the plates had been smashed because her mom had been fired from another job. Her mom had been sitting among the mess, hands and knees cut from the jagged glass. Nate had been left at kindergarten because her mom hadn’t remembered to pick him up. Marin had been thirteen, but she’d learned that day to switch off the fear and to keep moving forward. She’d bandaged her mom up, called a neighbor to pick up Nate, and had spent the night cleaning the kitchen.

      So she knew not to push Donovan for more and went along with the shift in conversation. She’d run along beside him in those subzero temperatures.

      “I might consider it actually. I’ve really enjoyed digging into your research.” And that was the truth. She’d always planned to specialize since she wanted to be a researcher not a practicing clinician. But she’d had yet to find the topic that lit her up. This hadn’t just lit her up, it’d set her aflame. Sex was fascinating—this strange, foreign thing she wanted to unpack and analyze. And learning from Donovan this week about all the different avenues in the field had deepened her interest even more. When he didn’t respond, she shifted and cleared her throat. “So what have you got for me tonight?”

      He sank into his chair, moving aside her notes. He wouldn’t look at her. “I’ve been working on a force scenario. Nothing violent, but it’s going pretty far in the taboo direction.”

      “Force?”

      He glanced up at her, his eyes clearer than they had been a moment before but still tired. “It’s a pretty popular fantasy according to research—capture fantasies, things getting a little rough—especially for women who are held back by having guilty feelings about sex. But it can be a trigger for others, so you need to tell me now if you’re uncomfortable with listening to that.”

      Marin wet her lips, images of Donovan taking charge and taking over filling her head. She could still feel the anger rolling off of him and wondered if he’d come up with the fantasy because that’s what he needed right now—a little violence, someone he could exorcise those demons with, a release from all that ugly reality. “I can handle it.”

      “Okay, cool.” He rocked forward in his chair and grabbed a thumb drive. “Remember, I’m looking for unedited feedback. If it sucks or is horrible, you need to tell me. Don’t coddle me just because I had a bad day.”

      “I wouldn’t do that.”

      He nodded. “Thanks.”

      “So did it work for you?” The question jumped out before she could stop it.

      He peered up at that, surprise there at first but then something else flashed in those blue eyes—wariness. “Well, I have no interest in forcing myself on anyone, if that’s what you mean.”

      “That’s not what I asked.” Marin didn’t know where her boldness was coming from. Maybe knowing this was her last night with him was making her daring. Or maybe she was still thinking about the alternative he’d suggested to drinking the night away. “You want me to listen to it and tell you what I think. Obviously, I don’t want some guy to rape me.”

      He coughed and ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Sorry, you’re right. I’m asking for all this personal honesty from you and you’ve given it. I’d be an asshole if I’m not willing to do the same.” He straightened the papers on his desk. “The scenario worked for me. Rape isn’t a turn-on. Obviously.