There was a girl in Owen Shaughnessy’s class.
A. Girl.
Okay, a woman. And she wasn’t a scientist and she wasn’t awkward. She was…pretty. Beautiful, actually. Though he had no idea if she was awkward or not. She had walked into the lecture hall minutes ago, and there were only five minutes left in his talk, so…why was she here? Maybe she was the girlfriend of one of his students?
Looking around the room, he ruled that out. He seemed to be the only one taking note of her presence. He chanced another glance her way, and she smiled. He felt a nervous flutter in the region of his belly, and as he continued to look at her, her smile grew.
And now Owen felt like he was going to throw up.
He immediately forced his gaze away and looked at the notes in front of him. “Next time we’ll be discussing dust trails and dust tails, which represent large and small dust particles, respectively. Please refer to your syllabus for the required reading material.” Lifting his head, Owen scanned the large lecture hall and noted the almost universally bored expressions staring back at him.
Except for her. She was still smiling.
He cleared his throat before adding, “Class dismissed.”
There was a collective sigh of relief in the room as everyone stood and began collecting their belongings. As the students began to file past him, Owen did his best to keep his eyes down and not react to the words he was hearing.
Geek. Nerd. Weird. Awkward.
Yeah, Owen not only heard the words being murmured but knew they were being used to describe him. It was even worse considering the students in the room were all interested in the same subject he was—astronomy. So even in a group of his peers, he was still the odd man out. He shrugged. He’d learned not to let the hurtful words land—to fester—but sometimes they stung a little.
Okay, a lot.
Packing up his satchel, he kept his head down as the class of two hundred students made their way out. Or escaped. Maybe that was the better word for it. He didn’t make eye contact with any of them—he simply went about his task of collecting his papers and belongings so the next instructor could come in and set up on time. He was nothing if not polite and conscientious.
His phone beeped to indicate a new text, and he couldn’t help but smile when he pulled out his phone and saw it was from his twin brother, Riley.
Skype. Tonight. 8 your time.
Refusing to acknowledge how once again he and his brother were in sync with one another—Riley loved to say it was because they were twins—Owen was at the very least grateful for the timing. There were just times when he needed to talk to someone—or, more specifically, Riley—and there he was.
And the more he commented on it, the more Riley would go on about twin telepathy.
It was ridiculous.
As a man of science, there was no way Owen could accept the phenomenon as fact. Coincidence? Yes. Fact? No. His phone beeped again with a second text from Riley.
Whatever you’re stressing about, we’ll discuss.
He read the text and chuckled. “Nope,” he murmured. “It was just a coincidence.”
The last of the students exited the lecture hall as he slipped the phone back into his satchel, and Owen relished the silence. This was how he preferred things—quiet. Peaceful. He enjoyed his solitude, and if it were at all possible, he’d stick to speaking at strictly a few select conferences and then spend the rest of the day doing research and mapping the night sky.
“Excuse me,” a soft, feminine voice said.
His entire body froze, and he felt his mouth go dry. Looking up, Owen saw her. Up close, she was even more beautiful. Long blond hair, cornflower-blue eyes, and a smile that lit up her entire face. And that light was shining directly at him.
She wore a long, gauzy skirt with a white tank top. There was a large portfolio case hanging over her shoulder, along with the sweater she’d obviously chosen to do without in the too-warm classroom, and multiple bangle bracelets on her arm.
Gypsy.
No. That wasn’t the right word. Gypsies were more of the dark-haired variety and wore a lot of makeup. This woman was too soft and delicate and feminine to meet that description.
Nymph.
Yes. That was definitely more fitting, and if he were the kind of man who believed there were such things, that’s what he would have categorized her as.
He couldn’t form a single word.
Her expression turned slightly curious. “Hi. Um…Dr. Shaughnessy?”
She was looking for him? Seriously? Swallowing hard, Owen tried to speak—he really did—but all he could do was nod.
The easy smile was back. Her hand fluttered up to her chest as she let out a sigh of relief. “I’m so sorry for showing up so close to the end of your class. It was inconsiderate of me. I meant to be here earlier. Well, I was supposed to be here for the entire lecture, but I lost track of time talking to Mr. Kennedy.” She looked at him as if expecting him to know who she was talking about. “He’s the head of the art department,” she clarified.
Again, all he could do was nod. He cleared his throat too, but it didn’t help.
“Anyway, I’m supposed to meet my uncle here—Howard Shields. He suggested I come and listen to you speak. He thinks very highly of you and thought I’d enjoy your lecture.”
Seriously? Howard Shields thought someone would enjoy hearing him talk about meteor showers? That wasn’t the normal reaction Owen received from his talks. Informative? Educational? Yes. Enjoyable? Never.
Not sure how he should respond, he offered her a small smile and felt a flush cover him from the tips of his toes to the roots of his hair. She was probably regretting listening to her uncle. As it was, she was looking at him expectantly.
“Anyway,” she said, her voice still pleasant and friendly, “Uncle Howard talks about you all the time, and when he told me you were in Chicago guest lecturing, I knew I had to come and meet you. My uncle really respects your work.”
Owen finally met her gaze head-on because her words struck him. It was no secret that Owen looked up to Howard—he’d been a mentor to Owen for as long as he could remember—but to hear it wasn’t all one-sided? Well, it meant the world to him.
Most people in his field looked at Owen a little oddly. It wasn’t because he didn’t know what he was talking about or that he wasn’t respected; it was because of his social skills. Or lack thereof. It seemed to overshadow all of his fieldwork, research, and teachings. He was more well-known for being painfully shy than anything else. He was filled with a sense of relief—and pride—to know that Howard had said something nice about him.
And now he also knew he was going to have to speak.
“Um…thank you,” he said softly, feeling like his mouth was full of marbles. When he saw her smile broaden, it made him want to smile too.
So he did.
But he had a feeling it wasn’t nearly as bright or as at ease as hers.
“Ah, there you are!” They both turned and saw Howard walk into the room, his white lab coat flowing slightly behind him. “I was on my way here and was sidetracked talking with Dr. Lauria about the waiting list for the telescope.” He shook his head. “Students are up in arms over the lack of availability.”
Owen nodded but remained silent.
“I see you’ve met my niece, Brooke,” Howard said before leaning over and kissing her on the cheek.
“We haven’t been formally introduced,” she said shyly, turning back to Owen.
“Well, let’s rectify that,” Howard said, grinning. “Owen Shaughnessy, I’d like you to meet my niece, Brooke Matthews. Brooke, this is Dr. Owen Shaughnessy.”
Her smile looked so genuine as she held out her hand to Owen. “Feel free to make fun,” she said.
Owen looked at her oddly. “Fun?”
Her head tilted slightly. “Yeah…you know. Because of my name.”
Now he was confused. “I’m sorry,” he said nervously, “is there something funny about the name Brooke?”
Howard laughed out loud and clapped Owen on the shoulder again as he shook his head. “Don’t mind him, Brookie. He doesn’t get pop culture references.”
Pop culture references? Owen looked back and forth between the two of them for some sort of explanation. Then he realized Brooke’s hand was still outstretched, waiting for him to take it. Quickly wiping his palm on his slacks, he took her hand in his and gave it a brief shake. He murmured an apology and averted his gaze before stepping back.
Tucking her hair behind her ear, she nodded. “My parents named me after Brooke Matthews, the model.” When he still didn’t react, she added, “She’s also an actress.” Still nothing. Looking at her uncle, she shrugged and let out a nervous chuckle. “Well, anyway…um, Uncle Howard, I’m afraid I was late to Dr. Shaughnessy’s class.”
Howard placed an arm around her and hugged her. “I knew pointing you in the direction of the art department was going to be a problem.” He chuckled and turned to Owen. “Brooke is an artist and looking to either intern here at the university or maybe get a lead on a gallery where she can work and perhaps get her paintings looked at.” He smiled lovingly at her. “She teaches painting classes during the summer semester at the community college, but she’s far too talented to keep doing it.”
“Uncle Howard,” she said shyly.
“What? It’s true!”
Owen still couldn’t quite figure out why Brooke was here or why Howard had thought she should come to hear him lecture. He was just about to voice the question when Howard looked at him.
“Brooke’s specialty is painting the night sky.”
For a moment, Owen wasn’t sure how to respond.
Brooke blushed and then looked at Owen to explain. “I know most people would say the night sky is simply dark—or black—with some stars, but I don’t see it that way. I see the way the stars reflect off one another and how it causes different hues in the sky.” She gave a small shrug. “Most of the time my work is a little more… Well, it’s not abstract, but it’s more whimsical than a true portrait.”
“Don’t just tell him about it,” Howard suggested. “You have your portfolio with you. Why don’t you show him?”
“Oh!” Brooke turned and took the leather case from her shoulder and laid it on the desk in front of her.
Owen watched in fascination as she worked, noting her slender arms and the music that came from her wrists as her bracelets gently clattered together. Her long hair fell over one shoulder, and it was almost impossible to take his eyes off her.
“I hope we’re not keeping you, Owen,” Howard said, stepping closer. “I probably should have asked you earlier about your schedule before we both sort of bombarded you like this.”
He shook his head. “I…I don’t have anything else scheduled for this afternoon. I had planned on heading back to the hotel and doing some reading before dinner. I’ll talk with Riley later.” Howard and Owen had known each other for so long that he didn’t need to specify anything regarding his family—Howard knew all about them.
“How’s he doing? Is he back in the studio yet?”
“Not yet. He didn’t want to do another solo project, but getting the band back together isn’t going as smoothly as he’d hoped.”
Hands in his pockets, Howard nodded. “That’s too bad. Still…I’m sure the time off is enjoyable. How is Savannah doing?”
Owen smiled at the mention of his sister-in-law. “She’s doing well. She found an agent, and she’s submitting proposals for a book she’s been working on.”
“Wonderful! Is it based on her work interviewing rock stars?”
Beside them, Brooke straightened and gasped.
“Are you okay, my dear?” Howard asked.
But Brooke was looking directly at Owen. “You’re Riley Shaughnessy’s brother,” she said. It wasn’t a question but a simple statement of fact.
A weary sigh was Owen’s immediate response. This was how it normally went—not that it happened very often. At least not to him. But he heard from his other brothers what usually occurred when a woman found out they were related to Riley. And it wasn’t as if Owen knew Brooke or was involved with her, but he braced himself for the disappointment of knowing that from this point on, she was probably only going to want to talk about his famous brother.
And for the first time in a long time—possibly since high school—he resented his twin.
Might as well get it over with.
Clearing his throat, Owen nodded. “Um…yes. Riley’s my brother.”
Brooke nodded, her smile just as sweet as it had been since she walked into the lecture hall. “How fascinating! I mean, I think it is, anyway, to see such diversity in a family.”
And here it comes, he thought.
“You’re both so talented but in such different occupations. Your parents must be incredibly proud of you both!” Then she turned and straightened her pictures.
Wait…that was it? She wasn’t going to obsess or go on and on about how talented Riley was or how much she loved his latest song?
“So let me ask you,” she began as she turned to face him, and Owen braced himself again. Now she was going to do it. Now she was going to gush. “What colors do you see when you look up at the night sky? Do you just see black, or do you see different shades of blue?”
He stared at Brooke.
Hard.
And his jaw was quite possibly on the floor.
“Owen?” Howard asked, stepping forward. “Are you all right?”
He shook his head as if to clear it and then focused on Brooke and said the first thing that came to mind. “Why aren’t you talking about Riley?”
She looked at him as if he were a little bit crazy and then turned to her uncle before looking at Owen again, shrugging. “I’m sorry. Did you want to talk about him? I thought I was going to show you some examples of my paintings.”
He blinked, still unable to believe what he was hearing. Glancing at Howard, he saw the older man smirking as if he knew exactly what was going on in Owen’s mind. People always wanted to talk about Riley. He was big news. People liked celebrities, and he was far more interesting than most. Certainly more interesting than Owen.
“Oh…um. Yes. Yes. You were going to show me your paintings,” he said nervously, and he stepped forward to take a look.
And was rendered speechless.
Not that it was hard to do—Owen was already a man of few words—but the canvases Brooke had strewn across the desk were nothing like he was expecting.
The colors were bold and bright, and made with large brushstrokes. He thought of Van Gogh’s painting The Starry Night and admired how she had layered the paint.
He stepped closer to the desk, picked up the closest painting, and studied it. This one was darker—it portrayed gravitational waves—and Brooke had managed to capture all of the light and the colors, and make it feel as if you could reach into the painting and touch the stars. It was brilliant. It was compelling. It was… He put it down and picked up the next one. A shooting star. It was a little more whimsical than the previous one, but the colors were just as vibrant, and looking at it made Owen feel as if he were looking through his telescope and watching the stars fly across the night sky.
“So what do you…?”
He placed the painting down—ignoring Brooke’s attempt at a question—and picked up the third painting. This was the one that reminded him of Van Gogh. This had depth, texture. Owen wasn’t in the least bit artistic, but he knew what he was looking at was amazing. Gently he ran his hand over the canvas, taking in the feel of the paint, and was mesmerized. How many times had he wished he could reach out and touch the sky, to feel the heat of a star and study its contours? And standing here now, that was exactly what he felt he was doing. Unable to help himself, he looked at Brooke with wonder. “This is…amazing.” And then he wanted to curse himself because that description didn’t do her work justice.
And yet she looked pleased.
Relieved.
Her hand fluttered up over her chest as she let out a happy sigh. “Thank you. I know they’re all different. I’m trying to find the style that calls to me the most and reflects how I’m feeling, but they all do. It sort of depends on the night. Does that make sense?”
Owen had no idea if it did or it didn’t—he certainly had never tried this medium, so who was he to judge? But he was still confused. What did her artwork have to do with him? And again, as if reading his mind, Howard spoke.
“Brooke’s favorite subject is nature—particularly the night sky and sunsets, that sort of thing. She’s been talking about wanting to go out to the desert and paint, and I immediately thought of you and the Nevada project.”
It still didn’t make sense to him. “The Nevada project?” Owen parroted. “But…that’s to watch the meteor shower, and it’s for students and undergrads. I…I don’t understand.”
Beside them, Brooke cleared her throat and began collecting her paintings. “I should probably let the two of you talk,” she murmured. “I thought it was already—”
Howard cut her off. “I meant to discuss this with Owen sooner, but our schedules haven’t quite matched up. You don’t need to leave, Brooke. It’s good that you’re here and we can go over it together.”
Nodding, she continued to put her things away and then stood back silently while her uncle explained his idea.
“I fully support Brooke’s work and her desire to experience different places to paint. But her heading off to the desert alone just isn’t practical or safe. Her mother has some…issues, and Brooke is willing to respect them for the moment. So she needs to go with a group.”
Nodding in agreement, Owen offered a suggestion. “Perhaps she could find painters interested in doing the same thing. Make it an artist’s retreat.” That was a thing, wasn’t it?
“I want you to hear me out, Owen. I have a proposition for you.”
Dread sank like a lead weight in his belly.
“You and I both know you’re going to need help on your upcoming trip to Red Rock. An assistant. Someone to help you manage your time and keep you on task.”
“I don’t have a problem with staying on task, Howard,” Owen argued lightly. “I have excellent time-management skills—”
“No, what you have is excellent social-avoidance skills. You get too wrapped up in reading and studying, and you forget there are people around you are supposed to be interacting with. This project is going to require you to lead a group of twenty, and that means you have to be accessible to them and able to communicate with them without having a panic attack.”
All Owen wanted at the moment was to hide—especially from Brooke. While Owen knew of his own shortcomings, he didn’t appreciate them being pointed out to an audience.
Howard placed a reassuring hand on Owen’s shoulder and squeezed. “You are an amazing teacher and scientist, Owen. But your people skills could use a little…help. There’s nothing wrong with admitting that.”
Easy for him to say, Owen thought. The man was one of the most personable professors and scientists he’d ever worked with. “Howard—”
“Brooke is at ease in front of a class and working with people. She’s friendly and personable and very sociable. She would be an asset to your team and would free you up to concentrate on the science aspects. And while she’s in the desert with you, she could paint. It’s a win-win.”
“But…” And how did he put this without it coming off as arrogant or a put-down to Brooke? “She’s not a scientist, Howard,” he said softly, hoping to cushion his words. “I think it’s important to have someone working with me who understands the project and what we’re doing so if anyone has questions and I’m not available, that person can answer them.”
“Owen—”
“No, it’s okay, Uncle Howard,” Brooke said, her voice soft and not sounding at all offended. “I understand what Dr. Shaughnessy is saying.” Then she turned to Owen. “I know I’m not someone you would normally consider having as an assistant, especially here on campus or in the normal scope of your work. What my uncle is proposing is just for the time you’re working on this trip to Red Rock. I do have excellent organizational skills, and I’m comfortable working in an office environment and am proficient with all the computer programs you may need to get information ready for this trip. I can make phone calls and set up schedules for you and your group. And once we arrive in Red Rock, I’ll be there to help you with the group on a…social level. If that even makes sense.”
It did. It seriously did. But Owen wasn’t sure he was comfortable with it.
Brooke must have sensed his hesitation because she smiled and then looked at her watch. “I’ll tell you what, why don’t you think about it and let Uncle Howard know? I have an appointment to get to.” She held out her hand to Owen, and this time he didn’t hesitate quite so long to shake it. With a quick wave to Owen, she gave her uncle a hug and wished them both a good day.
Owen watched her leave and immediately felt as if the sun had gone behind the clouds. The lecture hall felt dark and quiet and…lonely. He stood and watched the empty doorway for several minutes until Howard cleared his throat.
Damn.
He looked over at his mentor and hoped he didn’t look like some sort of lovesick puppy.
“Think about it, Owen. I believe Brooke is the perfect person for you.” He paused. “And for this project.”
And then he was gone too and Owen was completely alone and left wondering if Howard’s words were somehow a double entendre.
* * *
Brooke slipped into the first empty lecture hall she could find, feeling completely defeated.
Not sure what to do with herself, she walked over to the first row of desks and took a seat. A long, slow sigh came out as she sat there and replayed the last several minutes. It wasn’t as if she had been expecting Owen Shaughnessy to jump at the chance to have her work with him, but she still couldn’t help but feel…disappointed.
It shouldn’t have come as a surprise. She looked down at herself and shook her head. What serious scientist would want someone who looked like her to help him on such a prestigious event? She looked like some sort of bohemian. Why hadn’t she thought of that sooner?
Dress for the job you want, not the job you have.
Ugh. How many times had that phrase been thrown at her? Too many. And honestly, the job she wanted was to be an artist. Well…to be taken seriously as an artist. But so far, no such luck. Sure, Uncle Howard supported her, but he was the only one. Which was why she had relocated to Chicago from Long Island—because her parents just didn’t get it. And they never would.
In their minds, Brooke was wasting her time and energy by pursuing her love of painting. Not that they had high expectations for her in general, but they certainly had been vocal about her need to find a suitable husband from a “good family.”
Not interested.
The thought of settling into the type of marriage her parents had was beyond unappealing. The last thing Brooke wanted to do was get married—especially to someone chosen because he looked good on paper and would impress the country club set. It almost made her shudder with revulsion. And her parents were getting even more vocal about their desire to have grandchildren. Right. Like she wanted to inflict the kind of relationship she’d had with her brother on kids of her own.
Again, not interested.
Growing up, she hadn’t been particularly nice to her brother—as a matter of fact, she had been out-and-out bitchy. While she had been popular in school and seemed to make friends wherever she went, Neal had been the object of teasing and bullying because he was a computer geek. A nerd. Completely unpopular. While Brooke had been winning beauty pageants, Neal had been tucked away with his nose stuck in a book. It was both comical and sad how their parents had pushed them toward such typical—and outdated—gender roles. The beauty queen and the brainiac.
Just the thought of it made her entire body tense up.
It wasn’t until recently that she’d had the epiphany about how unjustly her parents had treated them. It was more than the roles she and Neal had been put in; it was the way they were taught to view one another. She was never allowed to focus on her education, mainly because her mother was busy entering her in pageants. And Neal? Well, he had been encouraged to study hard and make something of himself since he was old enough to read.
Which was at age three.
Her brother was a genius—no one could doubt that—but for the longest time, he had been a major social outcast, and even though he was older, Brooke and her friends had teased him about his social status mercilessly.
Not her finest time in life.
As an adult, things had changed, and Brooke came to realize how being the captain of the cheerleading squad and waving to a crowd while wearing a sash and tiara were only enviable when you were in high school. Out in the real world and dealing with everyday life, her former status didn’t benefit her in any way, shape, or form. Yeah. Reality had hit her hard when she went to college and found out there were dozens of girls on campus who had the exact same titles. There was no one to ooh and aah over her. There was no special treatment from her professors.
And no one was impressed.
As her star was fading, Neal’s had started to shine. He’d finally hit his stride, had stopped looking like he was a young boy and grown into a man. He’d gained confidence, and all the people who had once scorned him were now praising him. And while her brother had been making a name for himself, Brooke had been floundering.
Was still floundering.
When her uncle had offered her the chance to come and stay with him in Chicago to look for work, she had grabbed it like a lifeline. Out of all of her relatives, he had always been the one to see how she was more than just a shallow, spoiled girl with a pretty face. She couldn’t remember a time when he’d even talked to her about her pageants. He’d always talked to her about school and things that made her think.
It hadn’t been easy to ask him to help her get a meeting with the head of the art department here at the university—she didn’t want to take advantage of his generosity. It was one thing to encourage her to find work. It was quite another for him to actually have to get personally involved and risk looking foolish to a colleague if she wasn’t any good.
Stop thinking so little of yourself!
But here was the thing—it wasn’t as if she were asking him to actually get her a job. She just needed a little help making some connections. If Brooke was completely honest with herself, she wasn’t even sure why she was seeking his help. Hell, she wasn’t even sure what job she was looking for or what she hoped to achieve by coming here. She loved painting and drawing, and had an appreciation for art history, but she wasn’t quite sure if teaching was her thing. Or if she was even qualified to teach beyond the community college level. Night school, essentially. She didn’t have a degree in teaching. She didn’t have a degree in anything.
So why am I here?
Good question.
In her typical pattern of over-researching everything, she’d found that the head of the art department was truly talented and had done very well in multiple showings and galleries. More than anything, Brooke wanted to pick his brain—and maybe see if he could give her some direction on how and where to focus her time and energy to get her own name out there, as well as her work.
Over the last week, Uncle Howard had pretty much been in cheerleader mode, encouraging her choice of trying to make art her career. She wished she shared his optimism. But she wasn’t like him. Uncle Howard had known since he was eight that he wanted to be an astrophysicist. He’d been fascinated by the solar system his entire life, and he had turned that love into a respected career, teaching and traveling to different colleges and universities to give lectures. There wasn’t a doubt in Brooke’s mind that, even if she poured all of her energy into her art, it was unlikely she’d have a career as successful as her uncle’s. There were thousands of artists out there, and she was quickly becoming familiar with the phrase starving artist. If she didn’t find work soon, she’d be able to drop the artist part of that statement.
It was tiring to keep searching for creative ways to pay the bills—working part-time jobs at galleries—and doing her best to network with people who could help her and also have time to travel when she found a lead. And though she appreciated her uncle taking her in for the next couple of months, she just hoped it wasn’t all for nothing.
When he’d mentioned working with Owen Shaughnessy out in Red Rock three days ago, it seemed almost too good to be true. The chance to paint in the desert and have someone so highly respected take her on as an assistant? It had seemed like the perfect opportunity. And even though Brooke initially felt excited about it, it didn’t take long for her own insecurities to come to the surface.
In a lot of ways, Owen reminded her of Neal—quiet, shy, and scary smart. When they were younger, Brooke took great pleasure in making fun of him because he was socially inept. She’d outgrown it, had apologized for it, but she’d never been able to forget it. And she certainly never received his forgiveness. And now…
She stopped the train of thought and sighed. She had a feeling Owen had probably experienced a lot of the same bullying Neal had—and probably at the hands of people just like her. It would serve her right if he didn’t want her to work with him. As a former “mean girl,” she knew she didn’t deserve anyone’s forgiveness for her behavior. No mercy. Which was exactly how she used to view those she deemed to be socially beneath her.
Maybe someday she’d be able to forgive herself.
But she doubted it.
Taking a deep breath, she stood and knew she needed to get going. There was no way she could stay here in this empty lecture hall and hide out all day—no matter how much she wanted to. Securing her portfolio strap over her shoulder, Brooke made her way to the door and pulled it open. There were several people in the hallway, but luckily none of them were her uncle or Owen Shaughnessy.
She looked around at the display cases as she made her way toward the exit. The science department wasn’t a place where she was comfortable. Even though she loved painting the night sky and the cosmos, she certainly didn’t know anything about them. And without anyone having said a word to her, she felt inferior. With every step she took, she could hear voices mocking her, telling her she wasn’t smart enough to be there. Wasn’t smart enough to assist someone as brilliant as Owen Shaughnessy.
Another sigh escaped before she could help it.
He had seemed nice. Sweet. His shyness had been endearing, and when he looked at her—well, when he had finally looked at her and met her gaze—she felt something she’d never felt before.
A connection.
Maybe she was crazy. Maybe she was imagining things. But as soon as Owen’s dark eyes had met hers, she’d felt…well, everything.
He was younger than she had expected—not that her uncle had said too much about him, but for some reason, she had pictured Owen Shaughnessy to be older. After meeting him, she figured him to be in his early thirties, and he was tall but not overly so, with thick, dark-brown hair that probably could have used a haircut but on him looked good. Mussed. A little bit wild.
A giggle came out before she could stop it. She was sure no one would look at Owen and think “wild,” but she certainly did. That wasn’t to say he didn’t have his nerdy vibe going on—because he did—but there was something about him that called to her. And not in a professional “let’s work together” kind of way, but as a man.
She swallowed hard and tried to calm her thoughts, which were now starting to wander toward how wise it would be to work with him if she was already feeling like this.
Giddy.
Fluttery.
Totally crushing on a man who’d said maybe five words to her.
Yeah. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.
Pushing through the heavy exit door, Brooke stepped out into the crisp and cold Chicago air and cursed the fact that she had forgotten to put on her sweater. Shaking her head, she stopped and quickly slipped it on before walking down the steps to the parking lot at a fairly quick pace and making her way to her car. Just as she was opening the door, she saw him off in the distance.
Owen.
He must be through for the day too, she thought, and watched him walk toward what she assumed to be his own car. Why she stood and watched, she couldn’t say. She found she enjoyed watching him. He was so different from almost every man she knew, and part of her longed to walk over and talk to him some more.
He seemed lonely.
Her uncle had mentioned how Owen wasn’t based out of Chicago but was doing a short-term lecture series here before going to Nevada to prepare for the meteor shower project. And after that, who knew where he was going to go? From what she could tell, Owen Shaughnessy hadn’t settled anywhere. He traveled too much. She almost envied him for it and then immediately took the thought back.
No wonder he was lonely.
Brooke wondered if he had any family other than his brother, Riley. Was it just the two of them? Did Owen have anyone he connected with when he wasn’t working? Was he involved with someone? That thought stopped her cold—it bothered her. Here she was just meeting him, yet the thought of feeling the connection she’d felt and then finding out he was involved with—or married to—someone else upset her more than it should have.
Maybe she’d talk to her uncle a little more at dinner tonight.
Maybe she’d have to do some investigating of her own.
Either way, whether she got to work with Owen Shaughnessy or not, Brooke knew today couldn’t be their only interaction.
* * *
Relief.
It was Owen’s immediate reaction when he had returned to his hotel room and closed the door. The entire drive had been spent thinking about Brooke Matthews.
And that reminded him—he needed to do a Google search and figure out who she was talking about because he had a feeling it was a pop culture reference he should know. Of course, it was too late to undo the awkwardness of not knowing it already, but that couldn’t be helped. She seemed to recover from his faux pas, so at least there was that.
Right now, all Owen wanted was some peace and quiet to unwind. Maybe read the copy of Sky & Telescope he’d picked up just this morning—that would be a great way to relax and forget about the possibility of having a beautiful woman working as his assistant.
Right. As if he was going to forget that anytime soon.
Things like that didn’t happen to him. Ever. Not that he didn’t date attractive women—he had, but… Wait a minute. He wasn’t dating Brooke; he was going to work with Brooke. Maybe. Sighing, he put his satchel and laptop case on the desk and took off his jacket. And whether the assistant was Brooke or somebody else, Howard was right. He needed the help. Badly. As it was, Owen had been warned, repeatedly, that he needed to hone his social skills because his students weren’t connecting with him.
If he wasn’t on this lecture circuit, Owen knew he wouldn’t have to deal with things like this—with the constant stream of people wanting to socialize with him and talk about what he was doing. If he had stayed the course of his original plans, he’d be enjoying quiet time safely ensconced in his research.
Unfortunately, his career had taken a slight detour, and because of his inability to say no, he was stuck doing short-term guest lectures at universities all over the country. If he’d only been able to decline the very first time he’d been asked, Owen had no doubt he’d be happily situated in an office of his choosing right now.
He just wasn’t sure where that office would be.
The thought of working close to his family in North Carolina was appealing. More so now that he’d been away for so long. It seemed as if everyone was slowly making their way back to their childhood hometown, and he had to admit he was a little envious, but it wasn’t in the cards for him yet. Maybe in another year or so he’d be able to reevaluate his schedule and dictate where he wanted to be, but for now he had commitments he needed to honor, and that meant more time away.
Later that evening, he would have time to Skype with Riley. Just the thought of his brother made Owen smile. They hadn’t had a whole lot of time together in person in the past couple of months—mainly because his brother was on tour, promoting his new solo album—but they always tried to make time to talk via Skype. And lately Owen had felt the need for the connection.
Maybe he was feeling homesick, or maybe he was at a crossroads in his life because his brothers were all settling down and starting families and Owen just didn’t see that as a possibility for himself. He didn’t have much of a social life, and even though he dated occasionally, Owen had never felt a connection with a woman in a way that mattered. He dated other scientists, and even when they were on dates, they talked about…science.
And the more he learned about his brothers and their wives, the more Owen realized that solid relationships—the kind where you fell in love and formed a bond and wanted a future together—weren’t always based on common interests.
Like work.
His eldest brother, Aidan, had met and fallen in love with his wife, Zoe, when she had started working for him. But even though they did have their work in common, they were opposite in a lot of ways. Zoe had been all about starting her life over and forging a new path, while Aidan had been so deeply entrenched in living his life in the past. But it hadn’t taken long for his control freak of a brother to let his guard down and learn to accept—and enjoy—their differences.
All the women around Owen were exactly like him.
It was no different with his brother Hugh. Hugh had been emotionally cut off and seemed unlikely to ever settle down in a relationship that was based on love. There had been a time when Owen had actually been able to relate to Hugh the easiest because of that outlook. But after working with the carefree Aubrey, Hugh too had taken the plunge. Hell, last Owen had heard, they’d been on a trip to Belize and were teaching their young son, Connor, to snorkel and swim with the dolphins. And Owen could only listen with a bit of envy because Hugh had come out of his self-imposed emotional exile and was finally living his life.
At the last big convention Owen had gone to, no one had even wanted to get within ten feet of the hotel pool, let alone swim with a dolphin.
And then there was Quinn, the ultimate middle child. He’d been the love-’em-and-leave-’em type for so long that Owen never thought Quinn would settle down either. And for the most part, everyone accepted how that was just the way Quinn was. But through it all, Anna had been there—playing the part of the best friend even though she was secretly in love with Quinn. Then—and this part still made Owen chuckle—Quinn had seen Anna in a bikini and suddenly realized his best friend was a beautiful woman. The entire Shaughnessy family had been happy to see him wake up and notice what had been right in front of him for years.
Having been too shy to even talk to girls when he was younger, Owen had no female friends, let alone any harboring a crush on him, or vice versa.
Riley. His twin. His other half. They were fraternal twins, and it wasn’t only their looks that were completely different. Everything about them was. Things came easily to Riley, especially women. And when he met Savannah and she blatantly told him she didn’t like him—and hadn’t for some time—it had come as quite a shock. Yeah, that was another story that made Owen laugh, imagining his rock-star brother being told there was a female alive who wasn’t in love with him. Of course, Riley had changed Savannah’s mind, and now they were happily married, but other than their love of rock and roll, they’d had to work hard to overcome some of their differences.
There wasn’t even anyone Owen knew of who he’d be able to try to overcome differences with. And there was no way he was going to seek out any kind of relationship advice from Darcy. She might be his sister, but she was so much younger than him. He chuckled to himself. Although she probably had a hell of a lot more experience than he did. Then he shook his head. No. Darcy still scared the hell out of him just because she was so…different from him.
A sigh came out before he could stop it. He definitely needed this time with Riley tonight. Not so long ago, Owen had helped his twin when he was at a crossroad. Now he was hoping Riley would return the favor. The only problem was that Riley had known—sort of—what his problem was. He’d had writer’s block and couldn’t complete the album he’d been working on. Not that Owen wasn’t oversimplifying Riley’s issue, but at least there had been a definitive problem for them to work on. Owen couldn’t define his problem. He had an overall feeling of discontent in his life, and no amount of looking up at the sky and watching the stars was helping.
And it used to always help.
No matter what was going on.
Hell, when his mother had died, Owen had…
The alarm on his phone beeped, reminding him of his upcoming time to Skype with Riley. Not that he was going to forget it. He was looking forward to the call. Needed it. He might even call his brother early.
He opened up his satchel and went about the task of emptying it out and organizing everything neatly on the desk—his laptop, his phone, his chargers, his notes, and his magazine. Looking at the clock, he confirmed the amount of time he had until Riley’s call—two hours and thirty-seven minutes—and frowned.
With nothing left to do, he quickly called and ordered room service—a turkey club sandwich and french fries—and then started up his laptop. He was intent on finding out all he could about Brooke Matthews.
The model-slash-actress and the beautiful artist he’d met today.