Beauty and the Brain (33 page)

He supposed be owed her that, although he
was slightly miffed by what he assumed would be her reaction to his
present state of arousal. After all, wasn’t that why she was so
successful? Because men found her sexually attractive?

Actually, that probably didn’t account for
all of her popularity. He understood that Brenda was fairly
worshiped by young ladies across the country. He heaved another
sigh, decided he’d never fully comprehend anything he didn’t read
in a book, and dove in head first.

“I’m very sorry for upsetting you earlier
today, Brenda.”

Weak, Colin. Weak. If you expect her to
let up on you be more specific.
He’d learned long ago that, in
scholarship, one must spell out exactly what one meant.

She said nothing but merely sniffled, which
confirmed his own assessment of his tepid apology.

So, however much he hated to do it and even
begrudged the necessity since he considered Brenda almost as much
at fault as he was—although he couldn’t have said why—he tried
again. “That is to say, I’m sorry I—ah—was forward with you.
Earlier. In your hotel room.”

As much as he appreciated academic honesty,
he’d be dashed if he’d apologize for trying to take advantage of
her—whatever that meant—because he hadn’t. He’d never have done
anything against her will. He’d most certainly not tried to rape
her, as she’d accused him of doing.

“Are you?”

Her voice was small and weaker than he’d
ever heard it, and it made his heart lurch. He also wasn’t sure
what to say. On the one hand, he wasn’t sorry at all, because he
really, really wanted to go to bed with her. On the other hand, he
was sorry his bold ploy hadn’t worked.

Ergo, he decided, he was sorry and could
answer truthfully with the words she wanted to hear. “Yes. I’m very
sorry.”

She sniffled again.

“It won’t happen again.” Ugh. This
particular truth didn’t sit well with him. He had a feeling that if
he ever were to taste the full measure of Brenda’s charms, his
infatuation would have been satisfied and, therefore, would be
over.

“Th-thank you.”

She didn’t sound happy about it. Given his
state of acute sexual excitement, as well as the difficulty he’d
had in coming up with an apology that came near the truth while
avoiding its full implications, he considered her thanks lukewarm
at best. He said huffily, “You’re welcome.”

They sat cuddled up together in the blanket
for what seemed an eon to Colin, although it probably wasn’t more
than a minute. When Brenda spoke again, she sounded
uncharacteristically diffident “I’m sorry I yelled at you.” She
gave another sniffle. “I was very scared.”

“I understand. The feminine temperament is
notoriously unstable.”

He felt her stiffen and knew he’d said the
wrong thing. Dash it, she was idiotically sensitive about some
things.

“And in what scholarly tome is that
sentiment written?”

Her voice was stronger now, and aggressive
in defense of her sex. Colin was about to retort with references
when his erudite candor smacked him upside the head.

In reality, while he’d heard the
psychological aspects of the male and female personality discussed
and debated by others, he hadn’t read much about the matter on his
own. He preferred to form his own conclusions on the basis of solid
facts. One couldn’t do that when studying people, because people
were so—unsolid. Colin therefore had always preferred history and
the natural sciences to the study of human psychology.

Peeved because he couldn’t cite references
without pretending to knowledge he didn’t possess, he said, “I
understand Dr. Freud has done all sorts of studies on the topic and
has concluded that women are of a generally histrionic disposition.
Most of them. Many of them.” He gritted his teeth and modified his
statement yet again. “Some of them.”

Brenda raised a hand. Colin thought she’d
done so to wipe away more tears, and his heart gave a hard spasm,
although he didn’t do anything, not wishing to have his face
slapped or anything of a like nature.

“Dr. Freud,” she said in a tight voice that
sounded as if it were being squeezed through clenched teeth, “is an
ass. He blames all human problems on sex.”

Colin blinked into the pitch-black night,
unsettled by such frank speaking. “I, ah, believe he’s studied
extensively on the matter.”

“Fiddlesticks,” Brenda said firmly. “He only
thinks he has. If he’d really done his homework, he’d understand
that most of the world’s problems aren’t brought about by sexual
frustration or misplaced sexual fantasies or sexual hysteria, but
by poverty, ignorance, and malnutrition. He’s a damned snob.”

Good God, she was right.

He’d never admit it. With a condescending
chuckle, he said, “You’ve studied this subject extensively, I’m
sure.”

He was dismayed when she pulled away from
him as if he’d suddenly begun to stink. “Yes, I have, damn you. You
think you’re the only person in the universe who reads? Blast you,
Colin Peters, I’m tired of you belittling me! I may not have a
college education, but I’ll bet I’ve read more books about more
subjects than most of the other people you’ve met in your stuffy,
confined, narrow-minded life!”

“Oh, now, really—”

“Oh-now-really, my foot!”

She scrambled to her feet, yanking at the
blanket and rolling Colin, who hadn’t expected such a violent move,
onto the pine-needle-and-sycamore-cone ground cover under the tree.
He blinked into the blackness for a second before he realized what
had happened; then he, too, stood up. He fumbled for the torch in
his pocket and turned the switch, hoping it would work. It
didn’t.

Because he was irked, both by her and by the
torch, he said, “Poverty, ignorance, and malnutrition don’t explain
this latest outburst on your part.”

“No, they do not! You explain this one, you
condescending cretin!”

“Name-calling won’t make very many people
change their minds about females being unstable,” he pointed out
smugly.

“Oh! You drive me crazy!”

And with that, she once again hurled herself
at, him. This time, however, she pounded on his chest with her
fists. It didn’t hurt, but Colin didn’t like it much. He jammed the
torch back into his pocket and reached for her wrists. He didn’t
have much trouble subduing her

It occurred to him that this was the last
thing he’d wanted to happen. What he’d hoped for was a truce. Maybe
even more than that. A friendly kiss would have been nice. A
lustful one would have been nicer.

Feeling defeated and discouraged, he said,
“I’m sorry, Brenda. I didn’t mean to—” He was going to say
provoke you
but decided those words would be more like
waving a red flag in front of a maddened bull than offering a white
flag to a foe. After thinking for a second, he said, “I didn’t mean
to say that.”

He had, but she didn’t need to know it. He
still held on to her wrists, not very tightly because he didn’t
want to bruise her tender flesh, but tightly enough to prevent her
from bruising his tender flesh.

“Y-yes, you did.”

Oh, Lord, she was crying again. Colin felt
awful. “Here, Brenda, please don’t cry. I’m sorry I hurt your
feelings.”

“You’re a brute.”

At least that’s what Colin thought she said.
Her words were so thick, it was difficult to tell. He wanted to
deny it but knew he’d be better off not doing so. He opted for
another, “I’m sorry, Brenda. Please don’t cry.”

“I h-hate you.”

“I’m sorry.” And that was the truth.

Her fury subsided so gradually, Colin wasn’t
even aware of it until he realized she was resting her hands on his
chest, next to her head, which was pressed there. He blinked down
at her blond curls, wishing he could see them better in the
moonlight. Very gently, he released her wrists and put his arms
around her.

Was it his fevered brain making him believe
she seemed to be snuggling more closely against him? He wasn’t
sure, but he made a tentative gesture toward reconciliation by
resting his cheek against her soft hair. She smelled like a flower.
He closed his eyes and allowed his senses to luxuriate in her
essence.

When he felt her hand move to his back, as
if she were attempting to learn its geography, he sucked in a
breath and held it. His sex, which was already hard, gave an
enormous throb. Dash it, did she know what she was doing to his
libido? If she did, her protests earlier in the day were totally
disingenuous.

“I want you to like me, Colin,” she
whispered into the darkness. “But you seem to hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.” It was true, although
Colin hadn’t thought about it until now.

“You do, too.”

Dash it, she wasn’t going to start another
argument now, was she? Colin didn’t think he could take it. He
gritted his teeth, and answered anyway. “No, I don’t.”

She sniffed. “You seem to.”

“I don’t mean to. I—ah—don’t think I know
how to get along in non-academic surroundings sometimes.” He’d
never admitted that aloud before. This infatuation with Brenda was
forcing him into all sorts of confessions he’d just as soon not
make.

He felt her nod. “I understand.”

“You do?” He wasn’t sure he believed
her.

He felt her nod again. “Yes. I’ve had to
study human behavior for a long time, and I pegged you for a man
who’d never had to worry about society’s acceptance or rejection of
him the first time I ever saw you”

Which had nothing to do with anything at all
that Colin could see. For a couple of seconds. Then her meaning
penetrated the sponge that was his brain, and he understood her.
She was right. He’d been born into a solidly middle-class family
with solid middle-class standards. He’d never had to scramble for a
meal or go without one. He wasn’t the product of an impoverished
immigrant family as was Brenda.

Brenda, on the other hand, had been forced
from her twelfth year to study middle-class mores and behavior,
much in the way he’d studied Indian cultures and natural sciences.
In effect, she was as much a scholar as he. And, since she was rich
and he wasn’t, she might even be more successful in her field of
study than he’d been.

It was an interesting insight, and one he
guessed he’d have to study at length later. This moment didn’t seem
appropriate to delve further into it.

Even if he’d wanted to, Brenda took that
moment to kiss him, and all thoughts of any nature at all flew
right out of his head. She kissed him!

He kissed her back with all the fervor he
didn’t until now know he possessed. He was terribly disappointed
when she pulled away from him after several blissful minutes,
during which they both investigated each other’s bodies
searchingly, and by hand.

“Oh, Colin.”

After their exquisite kiss and several
minutes of exploration, they’d sunk back onto the blanket—which
Colin had taken care to spread out again—and Brenda was feeling
dreamy. Since she’d never had much of a childhood, she’d never been
able to appreciate young love under the stars. Or anywhere else,
for that matter. She felt as if she were making up for lost time
tonight, although she still wasn’t ready to give herself to Colin
or any other man before he’d made a firm commitment. Which meant
marriage.

“I really was terribly frightened when I was
lost.”

“I’m sure of it,” he said, in a voice that
sounded strangely taut.

She didn’t fully fathom why this should be,
although she figured it had something to do with the marvelous kiss
they’d recently shared. She continued in her own rapturous tone,
“Isn’t it a beautiful night, though?” She’d like to kiss him some
more but knew that would be forward. She couldn’t very well chide
him for trying to take advantage of her and then try to take
advantage of him. Well, she could, but not if she expected him ever
to believe another word she said.

“Yes. Yes, it is.”

She realized he’d licked his lips nervously.
Still, she didn’t understand. Sighing with pleasure, she stretched
out and wiggled until she was pressed directly against him. She
thought he groaned softly but wasn’t sure.

“You were right about it being too early for
the moon and stars when I was so afraid.” She felt quite
open-minded and magnanimous about saying so at this point, since
she’d been furious at him when he’d pointed it out to her earlier.
“But aren’t they lovely now?”

“Yes.”

He was certainly a tight-lipped fellow when
he wasn’t lecturing. Brenda didn’t really mind. She could civilize
him. She’d tackled more difficult tasks in her life. “I’m sorry I
yelled at you.”

“That’s all right.”

“I don’t want to fight with you.”

“I’m glad.”

He might have been glad, but he didn’t sound
it. Undaunted, Brenda went on “But, you see, I’m not what you
believed me to be.”

“No?”

Was that a whimper? Brenda stared hard at
what she could see of his face but couldn’t tell.

“No. I get the feeling you think I’m a loose
woman.” She felt him take a deep breath and sensed that he’d opened
his mouth, so she gently pressed her palm against his lips. He gave
a small moan, which she also didn’t understand. “I’m a passionate
woman, Colin, but I’ve never been loose.”

“Oh.” The brief syllable sounded as if
someone had tried to strangle it on its way out of his mouth.

“And, while I find you awfully attractive .
. .” She drifted into silence, afraid of what she was going to say.
Colin uttered another smothered moan. “Well, I do find you
attractive, but I’m not willing to sacrifice my virtue on the altar
of passion, no matter how much the notion appeals.”

She wasn’t sure what he said then, because
she couldn’t make out the words. It sounded vaguely like a cross
between a plea and a protest. She decided to forge onward. Maybe if
she confessed her own attraction to him, he’d be more apt to treat
her with respect instead of as an object of his own sexual fantasy.
She spared a moment to be sorry actresses had such abysmal
reputations as a group.