A/N: This was written for the Lokane Bingo prompt "Oh, no. He's hot." It's also a very, very belated birthday present for my dear friend, kmomof4.
SUMMER CAMP
"I'm sorry, Jane," Erik's voice came over the tinny speaker of Jane's phone, "but it was his one stipulation for financing the camp."
She grit her teeth, gripping the steering wheel of her jeep as she made a turn onto a long, dirt road. "Co-director? Really? STEM Girls is my baby, I put the program together, and I'm supposed to let an entitled CEO take credit because he wants to be a shoo-in for some humanitarian award?"
"Ooh, good one," Darcy chimed in from the passenger seat. She held her fist up for a bump, but put it down when Jane glowered at her.
"Actually," Erik replied, "he has a degree in physics as well as business—"
"But that's not the point!" Jane caught herself before she swerved off the road. She sucked in a breath to try to rein in her temper. "He hasn't been involved in any of the planning. He has no idea what's going on, and it starts in a week."
Erik blew out a heavy sigh. "I know. That's why he's already at the site."
Jane slammed on the brakes. "He's what?"
"He wants you to give him a tour of the facilities, show him the ropes." Erik sighed again. "Jane, we have to humor him. Without his money—"
"There's no camp, I get it." Jane groaned. "Fine. I'll give him a tour." And show him the exit—if she played her cards right.
She ended the call and drove the rest of the way to the grounds—in silence. Darcy was distracted by something on her phone. The fact that the girl had service out here didn't surprise Jane. Darcy was an idiot savant when it came to 4G. (Or was it 5G now? Jane wasn't good at keeping up with any technology not related to finding a way across the universe.)
Jane turned her thoughts toward the problem ahead: Mr. Laufeyson. She didn't know anything about the camp's financier other than his wealth. In the eleventh hour, a major donor backed out of the project, and in desperation, Erik messaged every major corporation and investment firm that had a history of charitable contributions to the sciences. Mr. Laufeyson not only answered the call but doubled the amount they requested. Jane had never heard of him or his company—Spectrum Capital—before then.
His donation was more than generous, and Jane wasn't ungrateful. But his condition of running things with her? Yeah, no. That wasn't going to fly. Not for a STEM program that specifically catered to girls—it was even in the name: STEM Girls. Every counselor for the camp, every guest expert in the fields of science, technology, engineering, and math who'd been invited to give presentations, they were all female. Jane wouldn't even let Erik come despite all he'd done to help her get the project off the ground. She wanted the girls to feel confident that they could succeed in a male-dominated field on their own merits.
Hence the problem with Mr. Laufeyson's presence.
Jane grimaced when she laid eyes on a black Cadillac SUV near the cabin that would serve as both the main office and her housing for the next four weeks. They were renting the grounds from the Boy Scouts. The goal was to eventually get enough donations to build a permanent site, but for the first year, this would have to do.
Jane parked her Jeep next to the pretentious car and hopped out, anxious to get this tour over with. The guy was probably some middle-aged dude with an inflated sense of self-importance. If he was anything like the pompous jerks in her field, he'd probably try to override her decisions because he dabbled with physics at university ages ago and thought he knew everything there was to know. Ugh.
"Mr. Laufeyson," she called out when she entered the small office. There was no answer. She walked down the back hall toward the living quarters, calling his name again. Still nothing.
She stopped short just inside the door to her room, breathing an incredulous laugh. There were two beds in the small space, and though she was going to have the room to herself, she'd already planned to take the one next to the window. Except a sleek set of luggage was already propped against it. Did the man actually think he was getting the director's cabin? No. Absolutely not.
"Looks like he's made himself at home," Darcy said behind her.
"Not for long," Jane said through a clenched jaw.
She searched the grounds for him, muttering under her breath about spoiled, self-centered multi-millionaires while Darcy trailed wordlessly behind her. Mr. Laufeyson was nowhere to be found, and Jane considered moving his stuff to the maintenance cabin while she waited for him to make his grand appearance. Glancing at a nearby trail, she decided to check down by the lake first.
The treeline opened up to a shoreline, and Jane stopped in her tracks when something began to emerge from the water. No, not something—someone. A male someone. Straightening his back and pushing wet, dark hair out of his face. He was tall and very not middle-aged. Her gaze involuntarily dropped to take in his bare torso, to the lean muscles carved into his chest, sectioning his abs and cutting a v-taper down to the low waistband of his trunks.
"Oh my God," she whispered.
"Whoa," Darcy quietly agreed.
Jane forced her eyes back up to his face, and that was rudely chiseled, too, with handsome, patrician features. His mouth stretched in a wide smile when he noticed his audience. He had dimples—long dimples that were more like lines digging into his cheeks—but dimples. She swallowed thickly as he reached for a towel set on a rock nearby. She'd never been the kind of woman to go ga-ga over an attractive man—that was Darcy's specialty—but…
But what? Focus, Jane. Hot or not, this guy was still overstepping his bounds.
"Doctor Jane Foster, I presume," he greeted her in a low baritone. (British? Was he kidding her?) He offered a hand to shake. "Pleasure to finally meet you."
She almost said "Likewise" before she could stop herself. Instead she grabbed his hand—absolutely not noting how large it was compared to hers—and gave it hard shake. "I thought you were going to be a silent partner."
He drew his brows together, apparently not catching her meaning.
"Silent as in 'not here,'" she clarified.
He rasped a soft laugh. "Ah, but that wasn't part of the arrangement. I'm afraid I'm very—" his pale gaze dipped in a brief perusal of her, "—hands-on when it comes to my most important investments." He gave her a smile that narrowly avoided being a leer.
Being a decent-looking female in a career oversaturated with men, this wasn't the first time Jane had to put up with a thinly veiled come-on. This was, however, the first time her stomach flipped in response. Worse, she hadn't missed that he'd called her project one of his most important investments, and a traitorous part of her preened at the compliment. No. Stop that. She did not need his approval—or that open appreciation dancing in his eyes. (Were they blue or green?)
"I don't think you understand the point of this camp," she said, crossing her arms. "I'm trying to send the message to these girls that they don't need a man's help to make a name for themselves. I'm going to look like a hypocrite if they think I can't direct the program without one."
Mr. Laufeyson cocked his head, tongue grazing his bottom lip. "Aren't you, though? A hypocrite?" he asked. "You did need my help, after all."
She worked her jaw, momentarily stymied by his blunt rebuttal. But then her brain kicked back in. "Nice try, but asking for a donation is not the same as needing help running a charity. And I don't need it—your help running the camp, Mr. Laufeyson."
"I don't doubt it," he said, gaze drifting downward again to take her in. "But as I said, I put my mouth where my money is. Perhaps the girls would benefit from witnessing a healthy partnership between the sexes, yes?" He winked. "Oh, and please call me Loki."
Draping the towel around his shoulders, he strode toward the trail leading back to the campgrounds. He glanced over his shoulder. "Coming, Doctor Foster? I'd like to see our itinerary for the next few weeks—and I was promised a tour."
He didn't wait for her to respond before slipping among the trees.
Jane stared after him, mouth hanging open. "What just happened?"
"I think you just met your match, boss lady," Darcy said. "Camp is going to be way more fun than I thought." She shrugged when Jane scowled at her. "I'm just sayin'. That was super intense. It's like you two forgot everything else existed—including me. I can't wait for the next showdown."
Jane started to argue, but Darcy spoke over her, retreating with her hands raised. "Yeah, I think I'll go unpack now. Good luck with Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Sexy."
Jane rolled her eyes and took off after "Please Call Me Loki" in a huff.
This was far from over.
When she made it back to the office, Loki was leaning against the desk waiting for her, already changed into a pair of jeans and a thin navy v-neck sweater with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. She had to stuff down the errant thoughts of how nice his forearms looked, of how the sweater did nothing to hide the physique she'd gawked at earlier or that the fabric looked so buttery soft that her fingers itched to touch. What was wrong with her? She wasn't some hormone-addled teenager.
She shook off the unwelcome attraction, tipping her chin up in defiance. "First," she said, "you need to move your stuff. This cabin is mine."
He hummed as though giving her claim serious consideration. "No, I don't think I will," he said. "Now, shall we get to the business at hand?"
"Uh, no." She leveled a hard look at him. "We're not done talking about this. I'm not giving up this cabin for you."
Loki raised a brow. "I don't expect you to."
A stunned breath passed before his meaning sank in. She stared at him. The gall of this man. "You can't seriously be suggesting that we share."
"Why not?" He snorted as if she was being the ridiculous one. Her. "This is the director's cabin—with two beds, in fact. And conveniently there are"—he held up a pair of long fingers—"two camp directors. We're both adults. I see no issue here. Unless, of course, you're worried you won't be able to keep your hands off of me." The corner of his mouth tipped up as if he wasn't opposed to the idea.
Jane vehemently ignored the flutter in her middle. She began to object, but he spoke over her.
"You may want to ask yourself if this is worth taking a stance on," he said, "or if it's merely that deeply ingrained puritan heritage you Americans suffer from. We're likely to have more disagreements, and wouldn't it be prudent to save your energy for those battles that truly matter to you?"
She glared at him, slack-jawed. How did he do that—cut down her argument like it was nothing more than tissue? She had three degrees. Her IQ tested at the genius level. "Fine," she relented when she found her voice. "But I get the bed by the window."
"I've already settled in," he replied, "but I can be persuaded to switch with the proper incentive. What do you have to offer in return?"
She scoffed. "Are you kidding?"
"I'm not." Loki stretched to his full height, giving her an eyeful of that fit chest. "Negotiation is at the core of everything."
She pressed her lips together in frustration, running a dozen counterpoints through her head in a frantic hunt for one that would wipe that smug expression off his face. This would be so much easier if they were debating science. (She'd be impressed with his business acumen if he weren't wielding it against her.) And then—aha!
"I agreed to share the cabin with you," she said coolly. "I'm pretty sure that means you owe me something in return."
A cheek-splitting grin blossomed on his face. "Touché, Doctor Foster. Now you're in the game," he said with a note of respect. "The bed is yours."
Jane refused the instinct to smile back at him. Because beating him wasn't supposed to give her the same kind of thrill that she got whenever she made a new discovery or ran a successful model on the computer.
Unfortunately, her victory was short-lived when they started going over the camp schedule. Loki was right; they disagreed about virtually everything. The changes he suggested—and she used the term sardonically; they sounded a lot more like demands—were more often tweaks rather than major modifications, but for a man who had admonished her to pick her battles, he seemed bent on fighting every one.
She was pretty sure she'd murder him before the week was out. At least there were plenty of places to hide the body out here in the middle of nowhere.
"Yes, Erik, we're getting along," Jane said into her phone as she sat in her bunk, back against the wall. She'd managed not to strangle Loki in the last seven days. That counted as getting along, right?
"Give Doctor Selvig my best," the devil in question said as he stepped into the room they shared. He set down a cup of coffee on the small table next to her.
She shot him a scowl before averting her gaze. Because he'd just come in from a jog—which meant he was shirtless. As usual. She was pretty sure most of the staff followed after him on the trail to catch a glimpse of the show. Jane, on the other hand, got this special view all the time by virtue of being his reluctant roommate. Actually, she got more than that. The man slept in boxer briefs. Nothing else.
Once, she made the mistake of trying to make him uncomfortable enough to at least put on a shirt. She blatantly raked her eyes over all of him, channeling Darcy as best as she could while pretending that she wasn't dying on the inside. But her harebrained plan backfired when Loki ogled her in return, his gaze leisurely tracing every line, every curve of her body, tongue darting across his bottom lip. He tilted his head to the side as if to say, "Well?" She burned from head to toe in mortified defeat—along with another emotion that she refused to acknowledge.
Jane was horribly out of her league with this kind of game, especially against an opponent who apparently had gotten a doctorate in seduction. So now she avoided looking at him as much as possible when he was in a state of undress.
Unfortunately, her stellar memory happily made up for the lack, drumming up images whenever she did not want to think about him. His glistening muscles as he stepped out of the lake was an apparent favorite of her treasonous mind.
"Jane?" Erik asked.
Jane closed her eyes, swallowing back a sigh. She was so not this person. She wasn't—what did Darcy call it?—thirsty by nature. "I'm sorry, what?"
"I asked what time the girls are arriving."
"Oh, right." She glanced at her watch. "I'm expecting them around noon."
"We're expecting them," Loki corrected from the other side of the room. He slung a towel over his shoulder and made for the door.
"Still my camp, Laufeyson!" she shouted after him.
His reply echoed from the hallway: "Still your co-director, Foster!"
"That's what 'getting along' sounds like?" Erik asked in a flat tone.
"He's still funding the camp, isn't he?" she returned defensively.
Erik was silent for a moment before saying with resignation, "Just don't chase him off."
She shook her head with a laugh. "Yeah, I don't think that's possible." Erik started to reply, but Jane didn't need to be reminded that her pet project wouldn't have happened without Mr. Laufeyson's oh-so-generous contribution—and therefore, he needed to be handled with kid gloves. (Besides, she got the feeling that he weirdly didn't mind their daily squabbles. It was almost like he enjoyed them.) "I've got to go. I'll give you a call tonight."
"All right." Erik ended the call.
Jane glanced at the styrofoam cup Loki left on her table and pursed her lips. This was the third day in a row that he'd done that, picked up a coffee for her on his way back in from his morning run. She didn't drink the first two, worried that he'd put salt in it or a drop of Mad Dog 57 or both. He loved getting a rise out of her; she wouldn't put it past him to prank her.
She picked up the drink, popped off the lid, and gave it a tentative whiff. It smelled okay. Wait, was that a hint of hazelnut? She looked inside and raised her brows in surprise. Most people assumed that she preferred black coffee by virtue of her no-nonsense, spunky personality, but truthfully, she was a sucker for sugar and cream. Hazelnut cream in particular. She took a sip, and yes, that was exactly the way she liked her coffee. How did he know?
And more importantly, why was he bringing her coffee?
"Forgot this."
Startled, Jane hissed when a few drops of the hot drink sloshed onto her skin. Loki turned to her, holding a towel loosely at his waist with one hand and his small black toiletry bag in the other, wet hair curling at the nape of his neck as if he'd already started his shower. (Great. Because her rebellious imagination needed more fuel.) He glanced at the cup cradled between her palms and back at her with a ghost of a grin curving his mouth.
She narrowed her eyes. "What's the catch?"
He moved toward her, smile growing wide. "Worried that I have an ulterior motive?" he asked in a slow, deep timbre. "Sometimes a coffee is just coffee."
She kept her gaze firmly on his face—which was no small feat when she was now at eye level with those diagonal lines leading down, down, down. "For other people, maybe," she said. "But you're not like other people."
He chuckled. "No, indeed," he agreed, "but I can play nice when it suits me."
She snorted. "Sure." She was going to leave it at that, but he had done something uncharacteristically considerate. Grudgingly, she tipped the cup toward him and said, "Thanks for this."
"You're welcome." He stepped back, and she felt like she could breathe a little easier. "And Jane, you're also welcome to look all you want."
She snapped her eyes back up to his, cheeks burning when she realized that her gaze had wandered on its own to the flat planes of his abs. To cover her embarrassment, she grabbed her pillow and chucked it at him. He deftly sidestepped it, laughing.
"In your dreams," she said with an exaggerated eye roll.
He took her in with a measuring glance, and a handful of butterflies came alive in her stomach. "Perhaps." There was nothing cheeky in his tone; he sounded disturbingly serious.
He was gone before she could form a response.
Jane sagged against the wall, looking heavenward with a groan.
Ugh. That man.
She drank the coffee, though. There was no use in letting perfectly good caffeine go to waste.
The first few days of STEM Girls went better than Jane expected. There were some mishaps—a couple of science projects gone awry, the electricity cutting out in the dining hall in the middle of a presentation on female mathematicians throughout history, and a handful of homesick kids—but for a camp full of girls ages nine through fourteen, it was going relatively smoothly. Jane could even admit that Loki's idea of having a big undertaking each week, one that incorporated all of the studies, was pretty ingenious. It certainly didn't hurt that he was willing to pay for all the extra supplies.
"So, Mr. Hands-On isn't turning out to be so bad," Darcy said to Jane near the end of the first week. She nodded toward Loki.
He was crouched down with a group of future engineers as they built the large apparatus that they needed for the camp's elephant toothpaste experiment. It looked like a giant wooden conical flask. The girls spent the last several days designing and testing small-scale prototypes, perfecting the ratio of yeast, hydrogen peroxide, and dish soap as well as adjusting the dimensions of the container.
Jane watched Loki work, shaking her head with a soft laugh whenever the teens cast him a furtive glance, telegraphing their adolescent longing. Not so bad? That was an over-simplification. Yes, his presence hadn't been as intrusive as she feared it would be. He even went to great lengths in public to make sure that the staff and campers knew that Jane had the final word on everything. In private, however, they continued to bicker like siblings.
No. No, "siblings" wasn't at all the right word. Not with that look he got in his eyes whenever they went head to head—like he was seconds away from finding a different way to use that smart mouth of his.
"Although," Darcy went on, "everyone on staff is low-key mourning the loss of the daily half-naked jogs. I mean, I get it. Can't have these poor tweens spontaneously combusting over hotness their young eyes aren't ready for yet."
Jane glanced at her friend with a heavy sigh. "Darcy."
"But you still have a ticket to the show, don't you?" Darcy gave her a knowing smile. "Please tell me that you're putting hands on that behind closed doors. Because we're all living vicariously through you."
"Seriously, Darcy!?" Jane hissed, heat flooding her cheeks. She had a few more choice words, but they were lost when another voice interrupted.
"I suspect Doctor Foster isn't one to kiss and tell," Loki said, wearing his typical smirk. When had he snuck up on them?
"There hasn't been any kissing!" Jane hastily exclaimed. A few of the girls looked up from their work with interest, and she wanted to groan.
She'd heard the whispers about how Doctor Foster shared a cabin with Mr. Loki—as he'd asked the girls to address him—and she knew no amount of denying that they had anything more than a working relationship was going to put an end to the rumors. But she really, really wanted to try anyway. The least she could do was not add fuel to the fire.
Loki, though, was not on board with that plan. He looked her over, teeth grazing across his bottom lip. "As I said. The very soul of discretion."
Jane folded her arms, eyes narrowing to slits. "The soul of honesty, you mean. Because there's nothing to tell."
He shrugged, grinning back at her. He was apparently immune to the daggers she was mentally flinging at him as she stared him down.
"Aaand I no longer exist—again," Darcy mumbled.
Loki's gaze shifted briefly to the young woman and then back to Jane. "I think things are well in hand here. I'm going to attend to other matters, unless you have something else for me—" his grin turning diabolical as he raised his voice just loud enough to be overheard, "—darling?"
Jane's eye twitched with the effort it took not to kill him on the spot. "Yes, I think you better go," she whispered, "before I put my hands on you in a way that you won't like."
Backing away, he breathed one of his signature raspy laughs. "Promises, promises."
"Yeah," Darcy said in the wake of his retreat, "the two of you are totally going to do the do before camp is over."
Jane shook her head, walking away in a huff—in the opposite direction of Loki. How was she going to survive two more weeks of this? No, the better question: how was he going to survive two more weeks? Because she had visions dancing in her head of smothering him with a pillow while he slept.
"I want to go for a swim," Loki announced in the middle of the second week of camp.
"Good for you." Jane didn't bother to look up from her reading.
It was late, everything quiet save for the cicadas performing their evening serenade. She silently lived for the moment when the standing fan oscillated back in her direction. The cabin was so hot tonight. That was probably why her roommate wanted to take a dip.
"You're coming with me."
Jane snorted and turned a page in her book. "Nope."
Loki blew out a loud breath. "Do we or do we not have rules about swimming alone?"
She looked up at him then, congratulating herself on avoiding his sweat-slicked bare torso as he stood between their beds, fists on his hips. She'd like to think she was finally becoming immune to his good-looks, but she wouldn't lie to herself. Lying to him and everyone else about this, on the other hand? That was perfectly okay.
"Those rules are for the girls. You're a grown man." That was partially true. The rules were mainly for the girls, but they were for the staff as well—for liability purposes. But he wasn't staff, not really, and Jane was comfortable letting him risk drowning all by himself. He was already in his trunks, anyway.
The muscles in his jaw flexed, and her chest warmed a little with triumph. It was rare when she managed to truly annoy him. Most of the time, it was the other way around.
"You and I both know that's not true," he said.
Jane made a point to turn her attention back to her reading. "Whatever, Loki," she replied. "Swim or don't. I don't care." She suppressed a smile when he didn't argue further.
And that inward smile vanished seconds later when he ripped the book out of her hands and swung her over his shoulder.
"Put me down!" she shrieked as he paused at the door to their room before kicking it open. "Hey! Stop!"
Loki ignored her, making it through the cabin in a few strides on those stupidly long legs of his. Then they were out in the warm night, crossing the campgrounds.
She pummeled her hands against his back, kicked her legs. "Put me down now!"
"Careful, Jane." Loki adjusted his grip on her with a hand dangerously close to her rump. "You'll wake the entire camp."
Fuming wordlessly, she continued her attack, trying to squirm out of his grasp, but he held on tighter. Clearly she was going wherever he wanted her to, but she had to keep fighting him on principle. The open grounds gave way to a dark path through a thick of trees casting shadows in the twilight, and then the crunch of sand underfoot. She expected him to drop her on the beach, but her heart stopped when she heard the wooden boards of the dock beneath his gait. He wouldn't!
Would he?
"Don't you dare!" she yelled. She didn't care if she woke the dead. "Put me down, right now!" The words were barely out of her mouth when she realized her fatal error.
"As you wish." There was laughter in his tone as he dumped her into the lake.
The shock of the cool water stole the air from her lungs, and she shot to the surface, sputtering for oxygen. A second later, Loki leapt off the dock, knees tucked to his chest in an explosive cannonball that bowled her over when he hit the water. As soon as he popped up, she swam for him.
"I can't believe you did that!" She splashed him in the face. "I'm not in my swimsuit, jerk!"
He was on her in the next breath, wrapping his arms around hers to keep her from splashing him again, and oh. Okay. Her cheek pressed up to his chest was something that her brain could not compute—other than to note just how firm those muscles she'd been refusing to admire were.
"What are you afraid of?" he asked. His voice vibrated against her skin—another novelty that she was unprepared for.
"What?" The question was far more breathless than she would have liked.
"You have an inexplicable aversion to anything remotely fun," he said.
She shoved against him, but he didn't give an inch. "I have fun!"
He let out a rumbling chuckle. "Hardly." He released her and brushed her wet hair off her forehead. "What are you afraid of?" The moonlight drew geometric lines in his angular features as he stared at her, and her pulse kicked up a notch.
She didn't like this question; she wasn't ready to examine the data locked away in the recesses of her mind. "You want me to be more fun? Fine." She jumped up and shoved his head into the water, laughing when his long arms flapped in surprise.
Jane tried to swim away before he could catch his breath, but her soggy shorts and tank top were a little too heavy. (She was so glad she was wearing a sports bra, or else this would have been really awkward.) Loki caught her by the ankle, yanked her backwards, and her squeal was lost to the lake as she went under again.
She didn't know how long they played like this, splashing, chasing, dunking in the water amidst laughter that echoed off the trees. At some point, she got tired of fighting her wet clothes and left them in a sodden pile on the dock. Her grey sports bra and black boy shorts were no more revealing than a swimsuit, anyway—so long as she ignored the fact that she normally wore a one-piece. Loki whistled as she stripped, suggested that if she wanted to take it all off, he'd gladly return the favor. An hour ago—or was it two?—she might have threatened a lawsuit for harassment, but this felt more like teasing between pals.
Wait. Were they actually becoming friends?
The moment was lost when Loki grabbed her leg, dragging her back into the lake with him and continuing their juvenile games. Jane couldn't remember the last time she laughed this much.
Later, as they floated next to each other, staring up at the glittering night sky, she asked, "Why?"
"Hm?"
She glanced at Loki. There was always something so intense about him, as if nothing would satisfy him short of complete world domination, but in this moment, starlight kissing his features with an ethereal glow, he looked so serene. "Why are you so invested in STEM Girls?"
His gaze flicked to hers. "I'm terribly generous."
Jane snorted and sent a spray of water in his direction. "Try again."
He exhaled a short laugh. "Oh, that's right. I'm supposed to have an ulterior motive like, say, seducing a beautiful, passionate scientist for her brilliant mind as well as her lithe body."
"Ha. Ha." She splashed him again. Because it was easier than dealing with the unwanted warmth that suddenly pooled in her middle. He hadn't actually meant what he said. Right? No, of course not.
A few beats of silence passed before he said, "My mother loved the sciences. She could have made her mark, but she sacrificed everything for the sake of my father's—" he ground out the word with bitterness, "—business empire."
Wow. That was…a lot. Jane wasn't sure how to respond, but she felt like she was supposed to say something. "Is that why you have a degree in physics? Because of your mom?"
"Astrophysics," he corrected, "and yes."
Astrophysics? He had a degree in one of her fields? "Why didn't you go into—" Her question cut off when he grasped her wrist and tugged her toward him.
He stood, forcing her to do the same as he brought up her hand to examine it, thumb brushing over her palm in a way that sent a wave of chills over her skin. "You're all wrinkly," he murmured.
"Well, you know." She cleared her throat, embarrassed that his touch was so distracting. "Osmosis."
He grinned, eyes sliding from her hand to the rest of her, and she realized the water barely reached the middle of her thighs. She tried to drop down, but he wouldn't let her go.
"Please don't."
He held her gaze for a protracted beat, and her lungs forgot how to function. His free hand came up to cup her jaw as he began to lean forward. The moment became like the event horizon of a black hole—where time slows exponentially to a near standstill. Opposing desires went to battle inside of her with each millimeter he drew closer. She wanted to close her eyes, tip her chin up, and finally let the wild electricity between them complete the circuit. She wanted to escape, to catch her breath. Because this had "bad idea" written all over it in flashing neon lights.
That last thought cinched it for her, and she ducked away, diving into the lake. She swam furiously for the dock where her clothes were. Her shorts and tank top were still damp, and it took a herculean effort to pull them back on. She cursed when she realized that she didn't have any shoes. But wait, Loki had to have a pair somewhere. She'd take his and make a break for it, leaving him to pick his way through the trail barefoot. Served him right for dragging her out here against her will in the first place.
But you liked it.
Jane scowled at the unwanted revelation as she searched around for his footwear. Unfortunately, she was too slow. Inches away, Loki held the large flip-flops up, dangling from his fingertips, with a smug look. How did he keep sneaking up on her? Please, please don't tell her that he watched her wrestle into her clothes. His face cracked in a lecherous smile as if in answer to her unspoken plea. That bastard totally had.
He set the shoes on the dock and, after slipping them on, picked up a pair of towels. Two towels? When had he grabbed those? He tossed one to her, and it was actually hers—the one she kept on a hook by the bedroom door. Oh. He'd paused at the door during her abduction. That was… That was actually kind of thoughtful.
She had all of two seconds to make sense of how such an arrogant, irritating person could also be nice sometimes before Loki slung her over his shoulder again like a sack of potatoes.
"Hey!" she protested with a few open-handed smacks against his back for good measure.
"You wouldn't want to injure those pretty little feet of yours," he said, "and have to leave me in charge of everything while you recover."
Okay, fine. He had a point. "You could have at least let me ride piggy-back."
"And risk you strangling me and making off with my shoes? I think not."
She had to swallow back an involuntary laugh. Because that's exactly what she'd have been tempted to do. "What if I promise not to?" The fireman's carry was definitely not a comfortable way to travel.
Loki stopped walking. "What are the terms you're offering for this truce?"
Jane snorted. "I just said I won't try to kill you. I won't even try to make you pass out."
"I have the same protections in our current state." He clucked his tongue. "Have you forgotten how to play the game, darling?"
She ignored the pet name—ignored, too, how it made her stomach start engaging in advanced acrobatics. "Okay, let's negotiate," she returned sarcastically. "What do you want?"
He hummed, and it was a low, rumbly—sinful—sound. She immediately regretted asking the question. "So many things," he murmured. "I hardly know where to begin."
"You can have the shower first!" she hastily interjected before he could utter another word.
He let out an exaggerated sigh. "Not quite what I'd hope for, but acceptable."
He set her on the ground and, squatting, turned away from her. The edge of the towel around his waist dragged in the dirt, and she'd smirk at that if she didn't know he had a few others back in the cabin. Wrapping her own around her neck, she climbed onto his back, shivering only a smidgeon when he captured her legs in her arms. Good grief, his shoulders were more solid and so much bigger than she expected.
Jane wasn't sure what possessed her—her brain was probably scrambled from the smooth, firm (so, so firm) skin beneath her palms, pressed to the inside of her thighs—but as soon as he straightened to his full height, she said, "Giddyup, little doggie."
Loki tipped his head to the side and back, expression flat in the dim light. "I could drop you, and I wouldn't feel the slightest bit sorry."
"Do it and you'd be breaking our truce," she replied. "I'd get the shower first."
"Oh, and I'm positively quaking over losing that high honor." He made a sardonic noise. "It's fortunate that I like you." And then he shot off in a dead run.
She laughed all the way back to camp.
(He gave her the shower first anyway—with a warning that he'd join her if she took too long. She didn't, though a part of her wanted to test the theory that he'd make good on that threat. For science, of course.)
Jane may have inadvertently started the prank war, but Loki was the one who got the girls involved.
Things shifted between them after their midnight swim. She was somehow both more relaxed and more tense around him. He'd gone from a necessary nuisance in her life to an incorrigible friend, and lately, she laughed with him as much as she groaned. But that almost-kiss was always in the back of her mind, giving more weight to his borderline salacious comments, to the secret smiles he'd toss in her direction when they were out with the staff and campers. And while he still pranced around the cabin half-naked, while he still seemed to encroach on her personal space at every opportunity, he didn't try to kiss her again.
That drove her a little nuts. Even though she wasn't sure she wanted him to.
On a whim, she rigged a ketchup bottle with baking soda one day. Loki always put the sauce on his fries—or "chips" as he called them—and fries were on the menu for dinner. When ketchup sprayed everywhere, she fell off the bench in a guffaw. He glowered at her, red goop dripping from his normally pristine hair, and promised retribution.
The next three days were full of color-changing toilet water, glitter explosions, and stink bombs. Jane involved the staff when they supercooled all the bottled water before breakfast. Loki and the girls covered the eyepieces of every microscope with disappearing ink. Everyone snickered while the visiting microbiologist gave her lesson with a pair of violet circles around her eyes. (Fortunately she was a good sport; it helped that the ink disappeared when it dried.)
Darcy reveled in the insanity. "Hot Sugar Daddy is the best thing to ever happen to you, boss lady," she said one afternoon. "Explain to me again why you're not climbing him like a tree?"
Jane rolled her eyes. "Is that all you think about?"
"No, not all the time." Darcy gave her a wide smile. "I think about food sometimes. And music."
"And school?" Jane prodded, though she knew her research assistant was a good student.
Darcy shrugged. "Only when I have to. And I don't have to right now." Her eyes rounded with sudden inspiration. "Oh! I just got the best idea. We're going to need lots of shaving cream and ziplock bags." She took off toward the mess hall without a backward glance.
Shaking her head, Jane followed.
The prank—something called a "shaving cream stomp"—wasn't as scientific as the others (though Jane could see practical applications for a physics project), but it was wonderfully effective. The image of Loki whipping open the bathroom door with a flat expression, his legs and torso splattered with the white foam, was something she'd treasure for years to come. She almost didn't notice that he was only in his boxer briefs.
Her laughter cut off when he wordlessly grabbed her by the shoulders and yanked her against him, rubbing her face into a large dollop of shaving cream on his chest. With a smirk, he pushed her back into the hall and shut the door. The shower turned on a second later.
She wasn't even mad as she took her towel and toiletry bag to the staff bathroom. Having fun was actually, well, fun—even with Loki.
As much as Jane loved all the camp activities, she looked forward to Sundays. The schedule was far more relaxed on that day, giving campers and staff alike time to decompress. By virtue of her work, she was more of a night owl than an early bird, and she relished the opportunity to sleep in an hour or two.
It was no surprise that when she finally found her way to consciousness that morning, Loki was already gone, his bed neatly made. After his run, he'd probably gone to the lake—where there would already be a contingent of women and girls waiting anxiously for what Darcy affectionately coined "a calorie-free feast for the eyes." Or he might have driven into town for a couple of hours to catch up on business matters.
Jane took her time getting up, languidly stretching to loosen the stiff knots from the lumpy mattress. Knowing it would annoy Loki, she left her sleeping bag a crumpled mess as she gathered her things for the bathroom—including an extra towel to shove against the crack at the bottom at the door, just in case Loki retaliated. A truce for the prank war had been called recently after one of the girls had unknowingly run into heavy duty Saran wrap stretched across a doorway. The poor kid had bruised her tailbone in the fall. But that didn't necessarily mean that the battle between Jane and Loki was over. She was sure that as soon as she let her guard down, he would strike.
A half-hour later, she emerged in her camp uniform of hiking boots, denim shorts, tank top, and flannel shirt tied at her waist. She opted to wear a swimsuit beneath her clothes; she didn't know where the day would take her.
Loki was on his phone in the small office at the front of the cabin. He leaned back in a rolling chair that had seen better days, feet propped on the small oak desk. Not wanting to intrude on his conversation, Jane made for the door but paused at the brief touch of his hand on her wrist. She turned back to him with a frown. His only reply was to hold up a finger.
"Yes, I'm aware," he said in response to whoever was on the other end of the line. His tone was brusque as he went on. "If you had fulfilled your obligations, I wouldn't have been forced to hunt you down on your holiday in Venice."
Whatever the other person said, Loki clearly didn't like it. Gone was his casual posture as he slid his feet off the desk and sat up tall. Though the change in his expression was subtle, Jane was pretty sure she was now looking at a man planning a murder—one that started with a prolonged bout of torture that he would enjoy.
"I'm going to explain in plain words what will happen if you don't address this oversight immediately," he said in an icy voice. "First, your competitors will miraculously be able to undersell you thanks to a new, generous investor. Next, you'll lose all of your contracts, further putting your books in the red. When you finally become desperate enough to sell in order to avoid bankruptcy, I will be the only interested buyer—and I will buy your pathetic company for a pittance. I will break it apart and sell it off in pieces for pennies on the dollar. At the same time, all those dark secrets you think you've kept so expertly hidden will make national headlines." Goosebumps prickled Jane's arms as Loki's mouth stretched in a feral grin. "To put it in simpler terms: I will destroy you."
She'd never seen him so… She didn't have the word for it. Yeah, he could be a jerk, but this? This was sociopathic.
"I'm glad that we've come to an understanding," he said. "I expect the matter to be dealt with by morning." He ended the call without a goodbye.
As he glanced at Jane, the transformation in his face from mad serial killer to charming rascal was breathtaking. He stood up, pocketed his phone in his joggers and gave her a winning smile, completely devoid of lethal intent—though the answering twinge in her middle said it was a different kind of deadly.
"The telescopes will be delivered tomorrow," he said. "He doubled the original number."
It took a second before Jane realized that Loki had been talking with—no, threatening—the CEO of Prism Technologies. They'd pledged to donate fifteen high-end telescopes to the camp, but as the days wore on with no sign of them, she'd begun working on an alternative to her astronomy class next week.
"Come with me." Loki wrapped his long fingers around hers and tugged her toward the door. "I want to show you something."
She eyed him suspiciously when he took her to an unfamiliar dark green pickup—one that was parked where his showy Escalade usually was. "Where'd you get this?"
He opened the passenger door, ignoring her question. "Get in."
"Yeah, I'm not sure it's a smart idea to go to a second location with you." She crossed her arms.
He laughed softly. "Oh, I agree, but I promise to return you to camp long before dinner—unscathed, even." When she glanced at the campgrounds, to the few girls and staff members walking aimlessly from one area to another, he added, "They'll survive without you for a couple of hours."
Jane wanted to contend that as director she should always be available, but camp had been a more intense, rigorous experience than she expected, and honestly, it would be nice to take a break. Spending that break with Loki, though?
"Fine," she relented. "Just don't forget that I always keep my Swiss Army knife on me."
"Duly noted." He gave her another wide smile that somehow made her pulse erratic.
The first stop was a food truck on the edge of the nearby town for lunch. As they sat in cheap plastic chairs, eating street tacos, she asked him where they were going. He told her it was a surprise and leaned forward, drawing a fingertip across her chin. She watched as he brought that finger to his mouth and gave it a taste.
"You're right. The carne asada is delicious."
She could only make an indistinct sound in return. What was that?
He finished the rest of his meal as if he hadn't started a small fire in her veins. It wasn't until they were on the road again that she was able to pull herself together.
"What are the dark secrets?" she asked.
His brows dipped downward. "Hm?"
"The CEO from Prism Technologies. I can't remember his name." Jane curled her legs beneath her on the large seat. The truck was huge. She practically needed an elevator to get in and out of it. "You said his dark secrets would make the headlines."
"Quentin Beck." Loki cast her a quick half-smile. "He's desperate for the world to think him a great philanthropist and will go to any length to maintain that image. I have little doubt there is a monster hiding beneath that mask."
"But you don't actually know what skeletons he has in his closet. You were bluffing."
"A good bluff is essential to playing the game, darling, as you well know." He gave her a look weighted with meaning, but she couldn't begin to guess what it was. "But let's make the threat real, shall we?" He tapped a button on the steering wheel, and a phone rang through the speakers.
"Mal, here," a gruff voice answered after a second or two.
"Quentin Beck of Prism Technologies," Loki said without preamble. "I want everything. Leave no stone unturned."
"Urgent?"
"No, but there's a bonus for anything particularly damaging."
"Got it." The line went dead.
"It's a pity I can't short his stock without drawing the attention of the SEC," Loki said to Jane.
She blinked at him. "But you promised to leave him alone if he did what you asked."
"Did I?"
She opened her mouth to argue, but made an incredulous noise instead when she recalled his side of the phone call. "You really are the devil."
"Not an avenging angel?" Loki asked with an impish smile.
Jane snorted. "Uh, no. Definitely the devil."
He laughed.
They spent the next twenty minutes in strangely companionable silence. Jane gnawed on her lip as she tried to make sense of the man next to her and her relationship with him. Not that they had a relationship—beyond a professional one, anyway. (If she ignored the near-miss at the lake a few nights ago, which she did.) She should be unsettled by how ruthless he could be, but she wasn't, not really, though she couldn't say why. People didn't become wealthy CEOs without stepping on a few toes, right?
Or maybe you don't mind because he threw his weight around for you.
She pushed away the thought. Because she didn't need him to. She would have found a way to get the telescopes eventually.
Loki pulled off onto a dirt road. He put the truck in park and hopped out to swing open the cattle gate blocking their path.
"Are you going to tell me where we're going now?" she asked when he was back inside, putting the engine in gear.
"Patience, darling," he murmured.
She rolled her eyes. "Like you would know anything about that."
He shot her a smirk.
The road was full of ruts and dips and scattered rocks that Loki had to navigate around. She was about to make a comment that they probably should have taken her Jeep when he stopped at a clearing, cutting the engine.
"We're here." He grinned at her before climbing out of the truck.
She followed him out. "Where's here?"
He gestured to the expanse of untamed meadow and forest. "The future site for STEM Girls," he announced. "There are twenty acres. We shouldn't have any trouble getting a permit to clear some of the land, especially since we'd use the timber to build cabins and other facilities."
"What? I don't…" Jane trailed off as understanding dawned on her. "Wait, wait, wait. I don't have the budget for this. Funding for something this huge—that's part of my five year plan. Not to mention the cost of maintaining the grounds."
"Yes, yes," Loki said in that damned patronizing tone. "I haven't shown you the best part." He grabbed her hand and dragged her to an overgrown trail.
She had to jog in order to keep up with his long, clipped strides. "I'm not done!"
"Oh, I know," he said over his shoulder.
"I mean it! I can't—" she paused to duck under some low branches, "—I can't even put together a down-payment on the property!"
"Another fact I'm aware of."
She wanted to scream. How could he be so cavalier about this! "Loki," she began, but the rest of her argument turned to mush on her tongue when he stepped aside, gesturing to what he'd wanted her to see.
"Oh my God."
While it was true the BSA campgrounds they'd been renting had access to the lake—something that had been a lifesaver during this particularly sweltering summer—the area was more functional than beautiful. The beach was small, the shallow water a bit muddy, and though there was a dock, STEM Girls couldn't afford the insurance to rent the canoes from the Scouts. (Stupid "liability" rearing its ugly head again.)
What Jane was looking at now was something straight out of an Ansel Adams photograph, only in vibrant color. This wasn't a lake; Jane didn't know the proper term for the crystalline pool before her, supplied by a small cascading waterfall on the opposite side. The entire area was secluded, surrounded by a thicket of regal evergreens. She wanted this for her camp. She wanted it so much. But there's no way she could afford it this year, and she was pretty sure that someone would buy up the land before she two extra nickels to rub together.
Deflated, she turned to Loki to lay out all the ways that this was a pipe dream—and the man was pulling off his shirt. "What are you doing?" she hissed.
"Going for a swim." He slid his joggers down, and she thanked the universe that he was wearing his trunks underneath. "Come on. You've got your swimsuit on." He reached over and gave the strap tied behind her neck a tug.
She glowered at him, and he raised his hands, mouth twisting in a grin that meant very bad things.
"You're not going to force me to take drastic measures, are you?" he asked, sounding like he hoped she would. Like he'd love the opportunity to have her over his shoulder again.
She glowered harder. Because here was the thing: her one piece desperately needed a wash (something she was going to take care of later today), so she'd put on the bikini that Darcy had snuck into her bags. She figured that if she was going to the lake at all today, it'd be when Loki was busy catching up on work.
With a growl, she started untying her boots. Her options were woefully limited here. There was no question that she was going to end up in that picturesque pool. (Or was it a lagoon?) She could keep her tank top on, but that meant a soggy drive back to camp. Besides, the tank top was white.
Just suck it up. You're a grown woman, Jane.
She undressed, trying to pretend it was no big deal, but the jerk didn't have the decency to look away. No, he watched her like she was giving him a personal striptease. His gaze raked over her in open appreciation, and she almost gave into the impulse to cover herself. Or punch him in his handsome face.
"Much better," he murmured once she was only in her bikini—a bikini which had seemed so much more modest when she tried it on at the store last month.
"Yeah, because I wore this for you," she returned sarcastically to cover the warmth stirring in her middle.
He exhaled a short laugh, then rudely hoisted her up as if she hadn't been cooperating.
"I hate you," she groused to the fit muscles in his back.
"Liar."
Was it weird that she actually laughed when he dropped her into the cool water?
They were quiet again on the drive back to camp, and again it was the good kind between two people who had become comfortable with each other. Well, comfortable wasn't really the right word. Not when Jane thought about the feel of his hands on her bare waist as he helped her climb up behind the waterfall. Or how he held her against his chest when she tried—and failed—to dunk him.
(He didn't go for a lip-lock, though. Not that she cared.)
She was right back to pondering their indefinable relationship. She didn't know how to quantify it—whatever it was. She almost called it friendship, but dismissed the idea. Because this was something different. Something frightening. Something a little bit exciting. And a comparative analysis of her previous romances, if she could call them that, wasn't helping either.
"Tell me your thoughts," Loki said, breaking the silence before she could get caught up in a pointless loop of logic.
Jane's cheeks went instantly warm. There was no way she was going to start a conversation about their odd relationship. "What do you mean?"
He glanced at her with furrowed brows. "The property. What do you think of it?"
Oh, that. Of course he was talking about that. "It's really great."
"Isn't it?"
"But I have to be realistic," she said. "There's no way we can make that kind of investment right now. It's a good goal to work towards, though. Thanks for that, I guess."
He shook his head, laughing.
"What?" she asked, twisting to better face him. "What's so funny?"
"You." He turned onto the road leading to the camp. "Do I strike you as the sort of man who would show you a pretty spot of land just so you could have something for your dream board?"
She studied him as she considered his words. Yeah, he wasn't the "visualize your success" kind of guy. But then, what was the purpose of taking her to potential campgrounds when he knew she didn't have the funds for it? Torture? She wouldn't put it past him, but that didn't track either.
"Jane, Jane, Jane," Loki went on. "I meant it when I said it's the future site for your camp. It's already bought and paid for."
Jane's eyes went round. "It's what?" He didn't. He didn't.
"My lawyer is drawing up the paperwork to donate it to STEM Girls as we speak." Loki seemed awfully proud of himself.
He did. The bastard went over her head and made an executive decision without her. What happened to "a healthy partnership between the sexes"? She felt like she'd somehow entered an alternate reality. "Are you serious?"
"Quite." His self-congratulatory smile dropped a tick when he looked at her. "You're not pleased."
"Damn right I'm not!" she exclaimed. "I can't believe you did that! I have to do this on my own. Me. I don't want a handout!"
Loki let out a frustrated sigh as he parked the truck next to their cabin. "Accepting handouts is part and parcel of running a charity."
"That's not what I mean!" Jane shot back at him.
"No," he agreed, "you mean that you don't want a handout from me. I'm certain that if some other company or foundation donated the land to you, you'd accept it with tears of undying gratitude. Tell me, what is it about my money that you find so abhorrent?"
"You're trying to take over! You didn't even talk to me—"
"I'm talking to you now!"
"After you decided what's best for my program!" She fought with the seatbelt, growling as if she could will it to unlatch by rage alone. Once it obeyed, she opened the door and aimed a parting shot at Loki: "Your money comes with strings attached. That's my problem with it."
She stomped to the cabin, forgetting in her anger that she shared the space with the arrogant bastard. And he was hot on her heels.
"We're not finished," he bit out, stalking into their room right after her.
"I'm done!" She waved him off. "I'm done with all of this! I'm going for a walk, and you and your stuff had better be gone by the time I get back." She turned to get away from him, from these conflicting feelings roiling inside of her. She was irate, but then a part of her—a tiny, infinitesimal, traitorous part of her—was relieved when he was behind her, reaching over her shoulder to slam the door shut before she could leave.
"No."
She spun around, jaw set as she glared up at him. "What are you going to do? Badger me into submission? How very enlightened of you. I'm sure your mom would be proud."
His lip curled in a snarl, and good—even if it made her heart stutter. "Careful," he warned in a sharp tone. "This isn't about the property."
"You're right. This is about you and your gigantic ego," she returned.
He made a derisive sound as he inched closer to her, hands coming up to rest against the door on either side of her head, caging her in, and the air between them must have become sulfur hexafluoride. Because when he spoke, his voice dropped to a deep baritone. "What are you afraid of?"
The question caught her off guard. Her mind unhelpfully brought up the memory of him in the moonlight, looking down at her, fingers brushing wet hair from her face as he murmured those same words. She shook off the uninvited image and squared her shoulders. "I'm not afraid of anything."
"Oh, you are," he countered. "You're grasping at anything to push me away because you're terrified of us." His pale eyes searched hers before dropping briefly to her mouth. "Admit it."
She swallowed at the sudden dryness in her throat. Her chest was so tight. "Us? There's no 'us.'"
Loki's expression turned flat. "Stop evading."
That simple command brought her to the brink of everything she'd been avoiding for days—maybe even since their first meeting—and she couldn't anymore. Not with him staring at her like he wanted to jump off the edge with her, that all she had to do was take the first step. But what waited for her at the bottom of the cliff?
After a long beat, she told him the truth. "I can't do this."
By the way his dark brows pulled together and down, he didn't like her confession. "Can't do what, Jane?"
She scowled right back at him. Of course, he was going to make her spell it out for him. He never made anything easy; why would he now? "I don't do casual flings," she said. "You can either find someone else to scratch that itch—" the words tasted sour on her tongue, "—or you can keep it in your pants for one more week. Or better yet, just go."
She tried to slip out under his arm, but he grabbed the hem of her top, fingers knotting in the fabric.
"Who said anything about casual?" he murmured as he splayed his other hand against her cheek. "I don't want another woman. I want you."
Her pulse ratcheted up to an dangerous rate. "How do I know that you're not saying what you think I want to hear?"
He gave her a grin that made her entire body ignite in flames. "Try me and find out."
She didn't know who made the first move. One second they were staring each other down in a contest of wills, and the next, her arms were around his neck, nails scraping at his scalp as he lifted her by the back of her thighs and pushed her up against the door. The kiss was frenetic, devouring. He was a blue hypergiant and she was burning up on impact. It was insane. (It was wonderful.)
Why, again, had she been avoiding this?
He carried her to his bed, and that was the end of all rational thought.
The next morning at breakfast, Darcy kept looking between Jane and Loki with a shrewd gaze. She grabbed Jane's hand as they were leaving the mess hall.
"Told you," she said with a knowing wink.
(The telescopes arrived an hour later.)
(Jane did eventually accept the property donation from Loki. After lots and lots of convincing. When he wanted to be co-director the following year, she didn't even fight him. Much.)
EPILOGUE: Two Months Before the Inaugural STEM Girls Camp
Loki sat in the back of the auditorium, elbow planted his chair's armrest, finger rubbing idly across his lips as he waited for his current fascination—as he preferred to label it—to begin her presentation. While he would never deny that he had a mercurial temperament, he wasn't an impulsive man. And yet, impulse was precisely what had brought him to a science conference in Switzerland.
He'd reasoned that he was already in Europe on business. This little detour wasn't terribly out of his way—despite all the huffing and sighing his assistant did over rearranging his schedule.
He tuned out the nameless fellow giving an introduction for Doctor Jane Foster, delineating her degrees and the accolades she'd earned in her career. Loki knew all of these already. Though he had chosen to go into business rather than pursue the sciences, after a long day at the office, he liked to unwind with a finger or two of bourbon and the latest journals.
A few months before, Doctor Foster published her expansion on Loretzian traversable wormhole theory, and while the paper was every bit as academic as it ought to have been, there was something in its tone that captured his interest. That and the few photos he found of her online. She was much younger than he would have guessed—and attractive. Not that the latter was of any great consequence. In his world, there was no shortage of willing women who could grace the cover of some fashion magazine or another. No, Doctor Foster's looks weren't particularly important.
But her mind? That intrigued him.
Over the course of the next several weeks, he became familiar with the body of her work, including her doctoral dissertation. Everything spoke of a sharp intellect and that ineffable something threaded through her papers. When he learned that she'd been invited to present at this year's Astronomy and Astrophysics Conference, he couldn't pass up the chance to witness her in action.
He clapped with the attendees as she stepped up to the microphone, clearing her throat. As the conservative applause died away, she jumped into her presentation with vim and vigor. Loki sat up with rapt interest. How did so much enthusiasm and optimism, so much passion exist in such a tiny person? That was it, wasn't it? The nebulous thing between the lines of her work.
He rather liked this.
After another ovation, it was time for Q&A. But that turned out to be less a clarification on parts of her presentation and more like a cross-examination as stodgy old scientists picked apart her theory. And here she truly shined. She refused to kowtow to the skeptics and, instead, gave as good as she got—better, in fact.
She really was quite stunning, wasn't she?
Loki thought of the beautiful women he'd given his time to when he was in the mood for companionship, how insufferably dull they'd become when they inevitably lacked the wit to match his. Doctor Foster, however… He wanted that.
He wanted her.
His phone buzzed, reminding him that he was needed at the airport. Pity. As much as he wanted to remain, to introduce himself to her, he'd have to find another way to put himself in her path. He grinned as he left the auditorium, imagining how that first encounter might go—how he might bring out that lovely fire in her.
What a delightful surprise it was two weeks later when her STEM Girls camp came up on the list of charities seeking donations from his firm. Within minutes, he was on the phone with her associate, Doctor Erik Selvig. After all, Loki was never one to waste an advantageous opportunity.
Any vestige of doubt that he'd accomplish his designs was erased at his lakeside meeting with the fiery scientist. He didn't miss how her lips parted, how her eyes widened when her gaze fell on him for the first time. She found him as alluring as he did her, and if he had to use his body as a way to get to that breathtaking mind of hers, then so be it.
Oh, yes. Doctor Jane Foster was going to be his next acquisition—one that he suspected he'd want to keep indefinitely.
~FIN~
A/N: Thank you so much for taking a chance on the story. I'd love to hear your thoughts if you have a moment!