The Gent and the Boor

She stood there, thinking about the last time Deverell and she saw each other. He was in a foul mood and she couldn’t understand why. Was it because she had shown up to charitable gala with his younger brother, Parker? Why should that bother Deverell? After all, he was there with the stunning French actress, Elle Marceau who stuck to him like glue, her eyes like poison darts when she and Parker joined them.

She remembered how Deverell had looked first at her, then Parker and then back at her, his gaze frosty as their eyes met. At one point when they were briefly alone together, he said rather caustically, “I didn’t know that you and my brother were on such friendly terms.”

“I used to work with him, remember?” she replied. She had left the prestigious firm to become a public defender much to the chagrin of Parker and the rest of her colleagues but it was something she was very passionate about. She wanted to help those whom society has largely abandoned–be the advocate for the underdog. The firm she worked at helped such people and those who were poor or couldn’t afford to hire a private lawyer. They provided them with quality defense.

“I had forgotten. So, even though you no longer work there, it appears that you and he have decided to remain in touch.”

“Yes.”

“I never imagined that he would be your type, Samara. What could it be, I wonder. His looks or his charm? I know it can’t be his wealth. You’re not the fortune hunting type.”

“He has a brilliant mind.”

Deverell’s mouth tightened. “And what about me?” he demanded. “You think only lawyers have brilliant minds?”

“I didn’t say that–“

“I know Parker and I are as different as Gibberish gents and dog-eared doohickies.”

She opened her mouth to ask him what he meant by that strange remark when their dates rejoined them. Deverell curtly excused himself and whisked his date away. He and Samara didn’t speak to each other for the rest of the evening. She tried to ignore them and enjoy herself but she was thankful when it was time to leave. She left without saying goodbye to Deverell.

On the way to her flat, she didn’t say much. When, they got there, Parker offered to walk her to her door but she gently turned him down. He wanted to pursue a relationship with her but she informed him that friendship was all she wanted with him. He seemed a bit put out but respected her wishes.

After she entered her flat, she changed into her nightgown, fixed herself a hot cup of chocolate before she retired to bed. She didn’t fall asleep right away but lay there staring up at the ceiling for a while, thinking about Deverell. Seeing him with Elle bothered her more than she wanted to admit. Parker was a terrific guy but she wasn’t attracted to him. She was attracted to Deverell…

The following day, she busied herself with housecleaning, cooking and laundry but in the evening her mind was preoccupied with Deverell. Perhaps, she should stop by his flat and ask him what he meant by that strange remark which had been plaguing her. After she had a light dinner, she showered and changed and headed out.

Deverell was standing outside on the terrace, looking at the flickering lights in the distance but his mind was elsewhere. He was thinking about Samara. Seeing her at the ball with Parker made him see red. Jealousy clawed at his insides as he watched them together. What did she see in him? How could she prefer someone who was so pretentious and used needlessly obscure language when speaking to people who weren’t part of his elite circle? She said it was his mind which attracted her. His mouth tightened. Blast his mind.

Granted, Parker was a top-notch barrister but a woman like Samara needed more than a legal mind to satisfy her. She was the most beautiful and desirable woman he, Deverell, had ever known and he wanted her. He dragged his fingers through his hair and sighed heavily in despair. For the first time in his life, he was envious of his brother. He wanted something he had. He wanted his woman.

The chime of the doorbell interrupted his tortuous thoughts and he left the terrace. Who could it be? Elle? He hoped not. He had made it clear to her that he didn’t want to be in a relationship with her. It must have stung but he didn’t want to string her along. He walked to the door and stiffened when he looked through the keyhole. Then, he opened the door.

His expression was guarded as he looked down at Samara. She looked amazing in the yellow summer dress which flattered her lovely complexion and her body. It was knee length so he could see her bare calves. His fingers tightened around the door handle as he felt the heat surge through his loins.

“What are you doing here?” he asked tautly.

“I came because of something you said.” She tried not to be distracted by the fact that his shirt was unbuttoned and she could see his chest.

He motioned to her to go inside and preceded her to the living-room. When they were facing each other, he asked, “And what pray tell could that be that you had to come in person instead of calling?”

“What did you mean by Gibberish gents and dog-eared doohickies?”

“Oh. I might have know that this visit had something do with my brilliant brother.”

“I don’t understand how those two things relate to Parker.”

“Let me explain it to you. When Parker and I were growing up, our father mentioned once when a friend invited him to his gentleman’s club and how most of the gents were so pompous, thinking they were better than him because of their wealth and careers. He said he couldn’t carry on a regular conversation with any of them. He got tired of listening to their unintelligible or meaningless speeches and he never went back to the club because he thought that they were all a bunch of nincompoops. Instead, he joined the Dog-eared Doohickies’ Club and has been a proud member for twenty-five years.”

“What does any of this have to do with Parker?”

“After he became a barrister, Parker morphed into one of those gibberish gents which Father loathed. He became a member of that gentlemen’s club my father was invited to all those years ago. When he told my father, he was very displeased.”

“Why is your father’s club called the Dog-eared Doohickies?”

“Dog-eared because there’s no dress code. They can be as shabby or ragged in appearance as much as they want and doohickies because they are collectors of electronic parts and other valuable gadgets. Father loves to work with his hands and tinker with gadgets. He’s an Electrician. My mother’s family didn’t approve of him because he didn’t come from a rich family like her. He was the son of a welder and a primary school teacher. His parents might not have been rich but they were proud, hardworking people. My mother’s side of the family are more accepting of Parker because he’s more like her but me, I’m too much like our Father. I’m not a barrister or one of those gentleman types but, I earn an honest living and am doing very well for myself.”

“You’re an Aerospace Engineer.”

“It’s one career where you get to say ‘actually, it is rocket science.'”

“Parker explained to me that you design and build aircraft, spacecraft, missiles and satellites. Sounds very exciting.”

“You sound impressed.”

“I am.”

“Yes, but not enough or you wouldn’t be with Parker. He’s the gent and I’m the boor.”

“With Parker? What do you mean?”

“You and he are involved aren’t you?”

She stared at him. “What on earth gave you that idea?” she demanded. “Is it because I went to the gala with him?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you’re wrong. We’re former colleagues and now we’re just friends.”

“I saw the way he was looking at you. He wants more than friendship.”

“And what about the French actress you were there with?”

His eyes narrowed. “What about her?”

“It was obvious that she’s attracted to you.”

“Why should that matter to you?”

“It doesn’t,” she retorted. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that seeing him with the actress had aroused fierce jealousy inside her. “I’d better be leaving.”

This image has an empty alt attribute; its file name is d3f2bf9746f6bd846d2d229ca7ac0de8-portrait-lighting-man-portrait.jpg

“So soon?” he replied. “Why don’t you stay and have a glass of wine with me? It’s French.”

“Like Elle. Did she give it to you? Never mind, I don’t care. Goodnight.” She was about to turn and walk away when he caught her by the arm. She glanced up him, her eyes wary as she met his gaze. She tried to tug her arm away but his grip was strong. “Kindly let go of my arm.”

“Not until I clear something up.”

“What?”

“Is your relationship with Parker strictly platonic?”

“Yes!” They were standing close to each other now and she could smell his cologne. His chest was rising and falling swiftly. She ached to run her hands over it. Was that her heavy breathing or his that she was hearing? “He wanted to be more than friends but I made it clear to him that I didn’t. Satisfied?”

“Yes,” he groaned and releasing her arm, he caught her around the waist and pulled her roughly against him, making her gasp. Her eyes were wide as they met his smoldering ones before his head swooped down and his mouth sought hers. The feel on his lips moving feverishly on hers was her undoing. Groaning, she put her arms around his waist and eagerly responded.

Soon things got pretty heated and his shirt was dragged off. He moaned when she ran her hands over his chest before she pressed her lips against the skin. He held her head there for several minutes, savoring her kisses before he jerked her head back and devoured her mouth. The kiss lasted for a while and then, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to his bedroom.

After a night of unbridled passion, they became romantically involved and a year later, they got married in a simple wedding ceremony with Parker as the best man.

 

Sources: Merriam-Webster; Monster; Owl Guru; Brighton College; Case School of Engineering; Harvard Law School; The Guardian

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.