at the price tag,” she warned him.
“Don’t worry about the price tag.”
“ So, this is the one?”
Again, he was silent for a moment . When he spoke, his voice was softer than usual. “This is definitely the one.”
o o o o
Morgan had always prided himself on his intellect and reason. But when Amelia was around, those two attributes seemed to vanish. She’d persuaded him to buy some designer blue jeans, a tight-fitting cowl-neck sweater, a couple of earth-tone T-shirts with what looked like torn collars, and a steel-gray dress shirt that made him feel like a New York fashion model. She’d told him he looked great, and he’d decided to believe her.
For now, he was back in his regular clothes and wearing his glasses, heading for Sam Finnegan’s first lecture in the main hall. The optometrist had suggested using the contact lenses only a few hours a day to start. He was working his way up, but he’d been surprised at how comfortable they felt. And he actually liked the way they gave him a wider field of vision.
Ryder McKinley caught up with Morgan as he turned down the main hallway. “Did you get us a backstage pass?”
Morgan chuckled. “I never pictured you as a groupie.”
“Get used to it.” Ryder paused. “Is Dr. Finnegan gay?”
“I don’t think so.” Not that Morgan had given it any thought. But he couldn’t remember Sam making any reference to his sexual orientation.
“Because .” Ryder waggled his brows meaningfully. “You know, if he’s looking for groupies...”
“You’re not gay,” Morgan pointed out as they joined the lineup.
“Maybe not. But I can put on the charm as good as the next guy.”
“ Probably not as good as the next gay guy.”
“I suppose,” Ryder reluctantly agreed. “I’m just trying to find an angle.”
“Why are you so set on impressing him?” As far as Morgan knew, Sam was officially retired. He wasn’t heading up an institute or in charge of a large pot of research funding.
“He’s very influential,” said Ryder. “He’s on about a dozen boards. With one phone call, he could underwrite my research for the next decade.”
“You’re a funding-grant slut.”
“I am,” said Ryder.
Th rough the double wooden doors, they made their way into the rapidly filling main theater, finding seats halfway back.
“I don’t play politics very well,” Morgan said as they sat down on the plush seats.
“You might want to learn,” said Ryder. “The more money you can bring in from outside, the more the institute will pony up. It’s a snowball effect, but you have to get it started.”
“I was counting on the intrinsic value of my research,” Morgan said.
Ryder laughed , clapping him on the shoulder. “You’re in the big leagues now. And there’s a game to be played. Good decision on the hair, by the way. That mad-scientist look wasn’t doing anything for you.”
Morgan frowned at the exaggeration. “I didn’t have a mad-scientist look.”
“Okay, let’s call it an ‘I don’t give a shit’ look.”
“I don’t,” said Morgan. In fact, he thought the new haircut made him look preppy and pretentious.
“Better learn to,” said Ryder. “There are plenty of female donors out there, too. If you can flirt, you can fund your research.”
“I’ve never flirted in my life.”
Even if Morgan could figure out the confusing dynamics of sexy banter, it struck him as exceedingly false to use it as a tool of coercion.
“Everybody flirts.”
“Not me.”
“How do you pick up women?”
Morgan was about to say he didn’t. But that would have made him sound pathetic. “I’m open and honest.”
“How’s that been working for you?”
Morgan shrugged. “It’s not like I’m cruising the bars on Saturday nights looking for action.”
“ Where do you meet women?”
“I dated my lab partner at Berkeley.” Morgan didn’t mention that it had been in his third year, and his sex life had been sporadic at best since then.
“
“Don’t worry about the price tag.”
“ So, this is the one?”
Again, he was silent for a moment . When he spoke, his voice was softer than usual. “This is definitely the one.”
o o o o
Morgan had always prided himself on his intellect and reason. But when Amelia was around, those two attributes seemed to vanish. She’d persuaded him to buy some designer blue jeans, a tight-fitting cowl-neck sweater, a couple of earth-tone T-shirts with what looked like torn collars, and a steel-gray dress shirt that made him feel like a New York fashion model. She’d told him he looked great, and he’d decided to believe her.
For now, he was back in his regular clothes and wearing his glasses, heading for Sam Finnegan’s first lecture in the main hall. The optometrist had suggested using the contact lenses only a few hours a day to start. He was working his way up, but he’d been surprised at how comfortable they felt. And he actually liked the way they gave him a wider field of vision.
Ryder McKinley caught up with Morgan as he turned down the main hallway. “Did you get us a backstage pass?”
Morgan chuckled. “I never pictured you as a groupie.”
“Get used to it.” Ryder paused. “Is Dr. Finnegan gay?”
“I don’t think so.” Not that Morgan had given it any thought. But he couldn’t remember Sam making any reference to his sexual orientation.
“Because .” Ryder waggled his brows meaningfully. “You know, if he’s looking for groupies...”
“You’re not gay,” Morgan pointed out as they joined the lineup.
“Maybe not. But I can put on the charm as good as the next guy.”
“ Probably not as good as the next gay guy.”
“I suppose,” Ryder reluctantly agreed. “I’m just trying to find an angle.”
“Why are you so set on impressing him?” As far as Morgan knew, Sam was officially retired. He wasn’t heading up an institute or in charge of a large pot of research funding.
“He’s very influential,” said Ryder. “He’s on about a dozen boards. With one phone call, he could underwrite my research for the next decade.”
“You’re a funding-grant slut.”
“I am,” said Ryder.
Th rough the double wooden doors, they made their way into the rapidly filling main theater, finding seats halfway back.
“I don’t play politics very well,” Morgan said as they sat down on the plush seats.
“You might want to learn,” said Ryder. “The more money you can bring in from outside, the more the institute will pony up. It’s a snowball effect, but you have to get it started.”
“I was counting on the intrinsic value of my research,” Morgan said.
Ryder laughed , clapping him on the shoulder. “You’re in the big leagues now. And there’s a game to be played. Good decision on the hair, by the way. That mad-scientist look wasn’t doing anything for you.”
Morgan frowned at the exaggeration. “I didn’t have a mad-scientist look.”
“Okay, let’s call it an ‘I don’t give a shit’ look.”
“I don’t,” said Morgan. In fact, he thought the new haircut made him look preppy and pretentious.
“Better learn to,” said Ryder. “There are plenty of female donors out there, too. If you can flirt, you can fund your research.”
“I’ve never flirted in my life.”
Even if Morgan could figure out the confusing dynamics of sexy banter, it struck him as exceedingly false to use it as a tool of coercion.
“Everybody flirts.”
“Not me.”
“How do you pick up women?”
Morgan was about to say he didn’t. But that would have made him sound pathetic. “I’m open and honest.”
“How’s that been working for you?”
Morgan shrugged. “It’s not like I’m cruising the bars on Saturday nights looking for action.”
“ Where do you meet women?”
“I dated my lab partner at Berkeley.” Morgan didn’t mention that it had been in his third year, and his sex life had been sporadic at best since then.
“
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