Applied Electromagnetism Read online

  Chapter Four

  Once their amended travel plans had been secured, they grabbed their roller bags and set out for their new departure gate, which was at the opposite end of the terminal.

  Olivia was feeling a bit smug about saving the day—not that Adam had acknowledged her victory in any way. A thank you might be nice, or a good job, but apparently that was too much to expect from Mr. Rock Star.

  It felt like a just punishment that he would now be seated in steerage with the rest of the commoners instead of enjoying the luxury of first class. So much for all those miles he’d accumulated. He could eat off the snack tray and wait for the beverage cart to make its slow way down the aisle like a regular human for a change.

  On the way to the gate, Olivia made Adam wait with her suitcase while she stopped off at the bathroom. His annoyed impatience at being asked to wait inspired her to take her sweet time about it. She washed her hands, refastened her hair into a fresh bun, and touched up her dark red lipstick—a shade appropriately named “Vendetta”—smiling to herself as she imagined his spittle-flecked rage.

  “Thank you,” she offered with an over-friendly smile when she finally emerged from the ladies’ room, and Adam grunted irritably in response.

  There were no free chairs at their new gate. In fact, there were no free chairs at any of the gates at that end of the terminal. The remains of a tropical depression that had come ashore in Louisiana seemed to be causing delays across a lot of the southern United States.

  “I hope the bad weather doesn’t affect us,” Olivia said as she looked at all the travelers filling the terminal and camped on the floor along the walls.

  “It’ll be fine,” Adam said, pointing at the monitor. “Our flight’s still on time.”

  She bit down on the urge to knock on wood to ward off the bad luck his overconfidence might bring down on them. There didn’t appear to be a single molecule of wood anywhere in the airport, so they were on their own with any malevolent spirits that might be eavesdropping.

  They still had three-quarters of an hour left to wait, so they wandered around until they found an empty spot on the floor in front of a large picture window overlooking the tarmac. Olivia sat down in the narrow gap between a couple with a toddler and a group of college-aged kids. There was room for Adam to squeeze in next to her, but he chose instead to sit cross-legged in front of her with his back to the crowded gate area.

  “This is fun,” she said, leaning back against the glass and pulling her knees up to her chest. The toddler beside them waved a toy car at her, and she waved back.

  Adam’s lip curled in distaste as he looked around him. “You think this is fun?”

  “Come on, who doesn’t love sitting on dirty public carpets? I know I do. It’s my favorite thing ever to do in dress pants.”

  His eyes narrowed at her. “You should have worn jeans.”

  “I was trying to make a good impression.”

  “On who?”

  “I haven’t got any idea,” she admitted. “Definitely not you.”

  His gaze traveled from her short-sleeved white blouse to her sensible black dress loafers. He frowned slightly, as if he didn’t like what he saw. “Did you bring any long-sleeved shirts? They’re required at the plant. And boots, preferably steel-toed.”

  “Hey, you think that’s something you might have mentioned before we were at the airport?” she shot back. He’d done this dozens of times before and knew it was her first time, yet hadn’t thought to offer her even the most basic advice ahead of time.

  He glanced away. “I didn’t think of it.”

  “Clearly.”

  “Did you? Bring clothes to wear to the plant?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact. I asked Gavin about it.”

  “Good.” Adam was still frowning. Actually, it was more like a scowl. He kept glancing around him too, and shifting position like he couldn’t stay still. She’d never known him to look this obviously uncomfortable before.

  The toddler next to them threw her toy car, and when it bounced off Adam’s thigh he flinched like he’d been struck with a brick instead of a tiny piece of plastic.

  “I’m so sorry,” the child’s mother said as she leaned over to retrieve the toy.

  The smile Adam offered her in response was as taut as a bowstring. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “What’s wrong with you?” Olivia asked him. “You’re acting weird.”

  “I don’t like crowds.”

  “This is nothing. You should try going to Comic-Con. One hundred thirty thousand people squeezed into a city block for four days.”

  His scowl deepened. “That sounds like my worst nightmare.”

  “It’s an adventure, that’s for sure.”

  The toddler let out a high-pitched wail and threw herself to the floor. Apparently her parents had confiscated the offending toy. As her cries grew in volume and intensity, Adam’s expression grew more pained.

  “We’re so sorry,” the toddler’s father said as he attempted to quiet the screaming child. “She’s way past her nap time.”

  “It’s fine,” Olivia told him. “We’re all pretty cranky.”

  “I’m going to get some food,” Adam said, pushing himself to his feet.

  “Bring me back something,” Olivia called after him, and he raised his hand in acknowledgement. “Since you didn’t ask,” she muttered at his retreating back.

  When Adam returned ten minutes later with a fast food bag and a soft drink, the toddler had fallen asleep in her dad’s lap, and Olivia had managed to knit two more rows of Penny’s shawl.

  “What’d you bring me?” she asked as Adam sat back down in front of her.

  “Here.” He reached into the bag and withdrew a much smaller bag that he handed to her.

  She set down her knitting and stared at the smiling cartoon robot on the outside of the bag. “A kid’s meal? You got me a kid’s meal?”

  “You’re tiny,” he said with a shrug as he unwrapped a juicy double-cheeseburger. “I thought a regular-sized meal would be too much.”

  “Thanks,” she gritted out.

  He crammed a huge bite of delicious-looking burger into his mouth. “You’re welcome.”

  “Where’s my drink?”

  “There’s milk in the bag.”

  She blinked at him in disbelief. “Milk? Am I five?”

  “Did you know that between the ages of twenty and eighty, women lose one-third of their bone mineral density?”

  “So you were just looking out for my bone health, is that it? And not being a cheapskate?”

  He ignored her. “Our flight’s still on time, according to the board. Thirty minutes to boarding.” He had a habit of changing the subject when he didn’t like the way the conversation was going.

  “Let’s hope it stays that way,” she said, unwrapping her tiny hamburger. It was barely larger than a makeup compact, and she polished off the whole thing in three bites. There was also a tiny bag containing twelve whole french fries, and underneath that— “Oh! A toy!” she exclaimed in genuine delight.

  It was a tiny wind-up robot. According to the bag her kid’s meal came in, there were five different robots you could collect, each with a slightly different expression on its molded plastic face. Hers looked vaguely grumpy and disapproving.

  “I’m going to name it Adam,” she declared, setting it on the floor after she’d twisted the little lever in his back. “Because he’s so much fun to wind up.”

  “Har har,” Adam said sourly.

  Tiny Adam toddled across the floor until he ran into Big Adam’s leg and fell over onto his back. Olivia snickered as his legs kicked helplessly in the air like an overturned turtle. “He’s so cute! I love him.”

  She reached over to rescue Tiny Adam from the floor, and the back of her hand brushed against Big Adam’s knee. An unexpected shiver traveled up her arm at the contact, and she jerked her hand away.

  “You know,” Adam said as she wound the robot for another go, “
I could make a comment about how much you seem to enjoy twisting my crank, but that would be inappropriate on a business trip with a coworker.”

  “You’re right, that would be inappropriate.” She set Tiny Adam on the floor again, and he marched off across the carpet. “I could also make a comment about how cute your teensy weensy little lever is, but that would also be inappropriate.”

  When she lifted her eyes to Adam’s, she was surprised to find him smiling. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen a genuine smile on his face before. He only ever seemed to offer a distracted sort of half-smile around the office—and only when it was absolutely required to satisfy the minimum demands of politeness. This smile looked sincere and spontaneous, and for one shining moment, it relaxed all the muscles of his face, giving his handsome, Instagram-perfect visage an even more appealing, boyish gleam.

  Adam seemed almost as surprised by it as she was, and he quickly steeled his expression again as he reached out to save Tiny Adam, who’d keeled over after a collision with his shoe.

  “Here.” He extended his arm and placed the toy robot in Olivia’s hand.

  Another shiver went up her arm as his fingers brushed her palm.

  Stop it. You do not like Adam Cortinas. Not anymore.

  “So you’ve been to Comic-Con?” he said, and for once Olivia was grateful for his subject-changing tactics.

  She nodded as she tucked Tiny Adam into her purse for safekeeping. He would definitely be getting a place of honor on her desk next week when she got back to the office. “I go every year.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I like it. I usually go to Dragon-Con too, although I couldn’t last year because my sister got married over Labor Day.”

  “What do you like about it?”

  She considered him for a moment before answering. In her experience, people who questioned her about her con-going fell into one of two camps: either they knew nothing about it and thought it made her a weirdo loser, or they were self-appointed gatekeepers challenging her nerd cred. She couldn’t even count the number of times she’d been quizzed on her knowledge of geek trivia by some guy who couldn’t handle the fact that a woman might genuinely share some of the same pop culture interests.

  If she had to lay money on it, she’d bet Adam fell into the former camp. He seemed way too good-looking—and too boring—to be a nerd.

  She braced herself for the inevitable judgment and disdain. “I like looking at all the booths and the presentations for upcoming movies and TV shows. And some of the smaller panels are really good, like with comic artists and writers. Plus, I’m a cosplayer, so I get to show off my latest costume creation.”

  He paused with a fry halfway to his mouth. “You dress up in costume?”

  And there it was.

  He was staring at her like she’d suddenly sprouted a second set of eyebrows, and she helped herself to one of his fries as a reward for pegging him accurately. “Yes.”

  Instead of objecting to her fry theft, he pushed them closer to her. “And you walk around in public like that?” He sounded more surprised than anything. She assumed the judgment would come after he’d gotten over the shock.

  “Not like all the time or anything. I only do it at cons, when I’m surrounded by other people in costume too. That’s sort of the point of going, to be around people who share your interests.”

  “What kind of costumes do you wear?” The way his eyes traveled up and down her body, she could only assume he was trying to imagine her in some sort of super skimpy, sexy outfit.

  She pointed a fry at him accusingly. “Not the sort you’re thinking of, gutter brain.”

  “How do you know what I’m thinking?”

  “Because you’ve got that same lecherous look all guys get when they hear I’m a cosplayer and their dirty minds immediately start picturing a slave Leia gold bikini.”

  “I was actually thinking more along the lines of chain mail and swords. Or maybe Daenerys Targaryen. You could pull that off without a wig.”

  Okay, fine, so he watched Game of Thrones. So did everyone with HBO. It didn’t make him a geek. “Everybody does Daenerys,” she said. “I like to be a little more creative. My specialty is mashups and twists on existing characters.”

  “Like what?” He seemed genuinely interested rather than scornful.

  “A few years ago I went as a female Fourth Doctor from Doctor Who—before there actually was a female Doctor.”

  “That’s the one with the scarf, right?”

  “Yeah,” she said, impressed that he knew which Doctor wore the scarf. Could it be—was Adam Cortinas actually a nerd?

  Dammit, that was going to make it harder to hate him.

  He nodded at the knitting she’d set aside. “Did you knit the scarf yourself?”

  She grimaced at the memory. “I did. It was my very first knitting project. Damned thing took me forever.”

  “I feel like most people would start out with a pot holder or something simple.”

  “Not me. I started with a twenty-five-foot scarf. I do not recommend it.”

  It was so strange to be talking to him like this. To have him actually seem interested in what she had to say. Usually, when she talked to him, his face was a mask of boredom and impatience. Like he was waiting for her to finish and go away again.

  “What other costumes have you made?”

  She described her steampunk Miss Marple costume from last year, and the post-apocalyptic Ruth Bader Ginsberg costume she’d made the year before that, and he seemed almost—impressed? Was that possible?

  “So you sew all the clothes and everything yourself from scratch?” He peeled the lid off his soft drink and tipped some ice into his mouth.

  “Mostly.” She dug through her purse for a napkin, because he hadn’t brought any with their food. “If I can repurpose an existing garment I will, but usually it’s easier to just make it myself.”

  “What are you wearing this year?”

  “It’s a mashup of Rosie the Riveter and Ash from Evil Dead.” She’d been working on it for three months, which was why she was so behind on Penny’s birthday present.

  “Holy shit,” Adam said. “That’s really cool.”

  Olivia had always been a glutton for praise. Growing up as the unexceptional middle child between two overachievers had left her a little recognition-starved, so she couldn’t help glowing at Adam’s approval.

  She reached for her knitting in an attempt to hide the color in her cheeks, unable to believe he’d just paid her a compliment—on her super nerdy hobby, no less. Who was this guy and what had he done with the Adam Cortinas she knew and disliked?

  “You done?” he asked, waving at what was left of his fries.

  She nodded, and he gathered up their trash and carried it to the nearest garbage can. “Scoot over,” he said when he came back.

  Olivia shifted to make room for him, and he squeezed in next to her, leaning his back against the window as he stretched his legs out in front of him. He had long legs, almost a foot longer than hers, and thick, muscular thighs that pulled the denim of his jeans taut.

  One of his muscular thighs was touching her leg. His hip was pressed against her too, and his arm, and his shoulder. He’d left as much space as possible between him and the woman next to him, choosing to cozy up against Olivia rather than a random stranger.

  She wasn’t sure if she should be flattered, but she was definitely having a hard time concentrating on her knitting with Adam’s body heat soaking into her and his shirt rubbing against the bare skin of her arm.

  He’d pulled out his phone to read his texts, and she couldn’t help peeking at it. He seemed to get a lot of texts from women. In addition to the work names she recognized, he had texts from a Michelle, and a Vanessa, and also an Angela. He opened the most recent text from Angela, which was an invitation to dinner on Friday, and replied to let her know he’d be out of town but maybe they could do it next weekend.

  “See anything interesting?” he
asked, shooting Olivia a sideways glance as he typed.

  “Sorry,” she said. “It’s hard not to look when you’re holding your phone right in front of me like that. Who’s Angela?”

  “My sister.”

  “Ah.”

  “Why? Did you think she was my girlfriend?”

  “I didn’t think anything.”

  She was in no way relieved to find out that Angela was his sister, because she had no interest whatsoever in Adam’s love life, aside from whatever mild entertainment it might provide while they killed time at the airport. This weird feeling she was having was merely relief that she hadn’t accidentally read anything too personal.

  Yeah, sure.

  “Should we talk about our plan for when we get to the plant?” Olivia asked, adopting Adam’s tactic of changing the subject.

  He shoved his phone back in his pocket, which in the tight space required him to do a sort of twisting hip thrust that resulted in his head basically resting on her shoulder for a second. She tried not to react as his hair brushed her neck and her senses filled with the heavenly scent of his hair product. It was spicy and masculine, with a hint of cedar—or was it sandalwood? Whatever it was, it made her mouth puddle with drool.

  “What plan?” His breath puffed warmly on her shoulder before he straightened. “We get there, we assess the situation, and we deal with whatever we find.”

  She cleared her throat as she tried to suppress a shiver. “Do you know how much network bandwidth is available at the site?”

  “Nope.”

  “Do we have all the cabling we’ll need to connect the RTUs?”

  “I had everything drop-shipped yesterday.”

  “What if we get there and find out their equipment is so old it won’t integrate with our systems?”

  “Like I said, we’ll figure it out when we get there. There’s no point worrying about it now, when we can’t do anything about it.” He leaned his head back against the window and closed his eyes. “You need to relax.”

  Olivia ground her molars together. She didn’t like being told to relax. Not only was it patronizing and presumptuous, but it wasn’t like she was equipped with a magical Zen switch she could flip to turn off all her worries and chill out. She’d relax when she damn well had a reason to relax, and not because someone said she should.