"So what do you...?"

He placed the painting down-ignoring Brooke's attempt at a question-and picked up the third painting. This was the one he thought reminded him of Van Gogh. This had depth, texture. Owen wasn't in the least bit artistic, but he knew what he was looking at was amazing. Gently he ran his hand over the canvas, taking in the feel of the paint, and was mesmerized. How many times had he wished he could reach out and touch the sky-to feel the heat of a star and study its contours? And standing here now, that was exactly what he felt he was doing. Unable to help himself, he looked at Brooke with wonder. "This is...amazing." And then he wanted to curse himself because that description didn't do her work justice.

And yet she looked pleased.

Relieved.

Her hand fluttered up over her chest as she let out a happy sigh. "Thank you. I know they're all different-I'm trying to find the style that calls to me the most and reflects how I'm feeling-but they all do. It sort of depends on the night. Does that make sense?"

Owen had no idea if it did or it didn't-he certainly had never tried this medium, so who was he to judge? But he was still confused. What did her artwork have to do with him? And again-as if reading his mind-Howard spoke.

"Brooke's favorite subject is nature-particularly the night sky and sunsets, that sort of thing. She's been talking about wanting to go out to the desert and paint, and I immediately thought of you and the Nevada project."

It still didn't make sense to him. "The Nevada project?" Owen parroted. "But...that's to watch the meteor shower, and it's for students and undergrads. I... I don't understand."

Beside them, Brooke cleared her throat and began collecting her paintings. "I should probably let the two of you talk," she murmured. "I thought it was already-"

Howard cut her off. "I meant to discuss this with Owen sooner, but our schedules haven't quite matched up. You don't need to leave, Brooke. It's good that you're here and we can go over it together."

Nodding, she continued to put her things away and then stood back silently while her uncle explained his idea.

"I fully support Brooke's work and her desire to experience different places to paint. But her heading off to the desert alone just isn't practical or safe. Her mother has some...issues, and Brooke is willing to respect them for the moment. So she needs to go with a group."

Nodding in agreement, Owen offered a suggestion. "Perhaps she could find painters interested in doing the same thing. Make it an artist's retreat." That was a thing, wasn't it?

"I want you to hear me out, Owen. I have a proposition for you."

Dread sank like a lead weight in his belly.

"You and I both know you're going to need help on your upcoming trip to Red Rock. An assistant. Someone to help you manage your time and keep you on task."

"I don't have a problem with staying on task, Howard," Owen argued lightly. "I have excellent time-management skills-"

"No, what you have is excellent social avoidance skills. You get too wrapped up in reading and studying, and you forget there are people around you are supposed to be interacting with. This project is going to require you to lead a group of twenty-and that means you have to be accessible to them and able to communicate with them without having a panic attack."

All Owen wanted at the moment was to hide-especially from Brooke. While Owen knew of his own shortcomings, he didn't appreciate them being pointed out with an audience.

Howard placed a reassuring hand on Owen's shoulder and squeezed. "You are an amazing teacher and scientist, Owen. But your people skills could use a little...help. There's nothing wrong with admitting that."

Easy for him to say, Owen thought. The man was one of the most personable professors and scientists he'd ever worked with. "Howard-"

"Brooke is at ease in front of a class and working with people. She's friendly and personable and very sociable. She would be an asset to your team and would free you up to concentrate on the science aspects. And while she's in the desert with you, she could paint. It's a win-win."

"But..." And how did he put this without it coming off as arrogant or a put-down to Brooke? "She's not a scientist, Howard," he said softly, hoping to cushion his words. "I think it's important to have someone working with me who understands the project and what we're doing so if anyone has questions and I'm not available, that person can answer them."

"Owen-"

"No, it's okay, Uncle Howard," Brooke said, her voice soft and not sounding at all offended. "I understand what Dr. Shaughnessy is saying." Then she turned to Owen. "I know I'm not someone you would normally consider having as an assistant-especially here on campus or in the normal scope of your work. What my uncle is proposing is just for the time you're working on this trip to Red Rock. I do have excellent organizational skills, and I'm comfortable working in an office environment and am proficient with all the computer programs you may need to get information ready for this trip. I can make phone calls and set up schedules for you and your group. And once we arrive in Red Rock, I'll be there to help you with the group on a...social level. If that even makes sense."

It did. It seriously did. But Owen wasn't sure he was comfortable with it.

Brooke must have sensed his hesitation because she smiled and then looked at her watch. "I'll tell you what, why don't you think about it and let Uncle Howard know? I have an appointment to get to." She held out her hand to Owen, and this time he didn't hesitate quite so long to shake it. With a quick wave to Owen, she gave her uncle a hug and wished them both a good day.

Owen watched her leave and immediately felt as if the sun had gone behind the clouds. The lecture hall felt dark and quiet and...lonely. He stood and watched the empty doorway for several minutes until Howard cleared his throat.

Damn.

He looked over at his mentor and hoped he didn't look like some sort of lovesick puppy.

"Think about it, Owen. I believe Brooke is the perfect person for you." He paused. "And for this project."

And then he was gone too and Owen was completely alone and left wondering if Howard's words were somehow a double entendre.

Brooke slipped into the first empty lecture hall she could find and felt completely defeated.

Not sure what to do with herself, she walked over to the first row of desks and took a seat. A long, slow sigh came out as she sat there and replayed the last several minutes. It wasn't as if she had been expecting Owen Shaughnessy to jump at the chance to have her work with him, but she still couldn't help but feel...disappointed.

It shouldn't come as a surprise. She looked down at herself and shook her head. What serious scientist would want someone who looked like her to help him on such a prestigious event? She looked like some sort of bohemian. Why hadn't she thought of that sooner?

Dress for the job you want, not the job you have.

Ugh. How many times had that phrase been thrown at her? Too many. And honestly, the job she wanted was to be an artist. Well...to be taken seriously as an artist. But so far, no such luck. Sure, Uncle Howard supported her, but he was the only one. Which was why she had relocated to Chicago from Long Island-because her parents just didn't get it. And they never would.

In their minds, Brooke was wasting her time and energy by pursuing her love of painting. Not that they had high expectations for her in general, but they certainly had been vocal about her need to find a suitable husband from a "good family."

Not interested.

The thought of settling into the type of marriage they had was beyond unappealing. The last thing Brooke wanted to do was get married-especially not to someone chosen because he looked good on paper and would impress the country club set. It almost made her shudder with revulsion. And her parents were getting even more vocal about their desire to have grandchildren. Right. Like she wanted to inflict the kind of relationship she'd had with her brother on kids of her own.

Again, not interested.

Growing up, she hadn't been particularly nice to her brother-as a matter of fact, she had been out-and-out bitchy. While she had been popular in school and seemed to make friends wherever she went, Neal had been the object of teasing and bullying because he was a computer geek. A nerd. Completely unpopular. While Brooke had been winning beauty pageants, Neal had been tucked away with his nose stuck in a book. It was both comical and sad how their parents had pushed them toward such typical-and outdated-gender roles. The beauty queen and the brainiac.

Just the thought of it made her entire body tense up.

It wasn't until recently that she'd had the epiphany about just how unjustly her parents had treated them. It was more than the roles she and Neal had been put in but the way they were taught to view one another. She was never allowed to focus on her education-mainly because her mother was busy entering her in pageants. And Neal? Well, he had been encouraged to study hard and make something of himself since he was old enough to read.

Which was at age three.

Her brother was a genius-no one could doubt that-but for the longest time he had been a major social outcast, and even though he was older, Brooke and her friends had teased him about his social status mercilessly.

Not her finest time in life.

As an adult, things had changed, and Brooke came to realize how being the captain of the cheerleading squad and waving to a crowd while wearing a sash and tiara were only enviable when you were in high school. Out in the real world and dealing with everyday life, her former status didn't benefit her in any way, shape, or form. Yeah. Reality had hit her hard when she went to college and found out there were dozens of girls on campus who had the exact same titles. There was no one to ooh and aah over her. There was no special treatment from her professors.

And no one was impressed.

As her star was fading, Neal's had been starting to shine. He'd finally hit his stride and stopped looking like he was a young boy and grown into a man. He'd gained confidence, and all the people who had once scorned him were now praising him. And while her brother had been making a name for himself, Brooke had been floundering.

Was still floundering.

When her uncle had offered her the chance to come and stay with him in Chicago to look for work, she had grabbed it like a lifeline. Out of all of her relatives, he had always been the one to see how she was more than just a shallow, spoiled girl with a pretty face. She couldn't remember a time when he'd even talked to her about her pageants. He'd always talked to her about school and things to make her think.

It hadn't been easy to ask him to help her get a meeting with the head of the art department here at the university-she didn't want to take advantage of his generosity. It was one thing to encourage her to find work. It was quite another for him to actually have to get personally involved and risk looking foolish to a colleague if she wasn't any good.

Stop thinking so little of yourself!

But here was the thing-it wasn't as if she was asking him to actually get her a job. She just needed a little help making some connections. If Brooke were being completely honest with herself, she wasn't even sure why she was seeking his help. Hell, she wasn't even sure what job she was looking for or what she hoped to achieve by coming here. She loved painting and drawing and had an appreciation for art history, but she wasn't quite sure if teaching was her thing. Or if she was even qualified to teach beyond the community college level. Night school, essentially. She didn't have a degree in teaching. She didn't have a degree in anything.

So why am I here?

Good question.

In her typical pattern of over-researching everything, she'd found that the head of the art department was truly talented and had done very well in multiple showings and galleries. More than anything, Brooke wanted to pick his brain. And maybe see if he could give her some direction on how and where to focus her time and energy to get her own name out there-as well as her work.

Over the last week, Uncle Howard had pretty much been in cheerleader mode-encouraging her choice of trying to make art her career. She wished she shared his optimism. But she wasn't like him. Uncle Howard had known since he was eight that he wanted to be an astrophysicist. He'd been fascinated by the solar system his entire life, and he had turned that love into a respected career-teaching and traveling to different colleges and universities to give lectures. There wasn't a doubt in Brooke's mind that even if she poured all of her energy into her art it was unlikely she'd have a career as successful as her uncle's. There were thousands of artists out there, and she was quickly becoming familiar with the phrase starving artist. If she didn't find work soon, she'd be able to drop the artist part of that statement.

It was tiring to keep searching for creative ways to pay the bills-working part-time jobs at galleries-and doing her best to network with people who could help her and also have time to travel when she found a lead. And though she appreciated her uncle taking her in for the next couple of months, she just hoped it wasn't all for nothing.

When he'd mentioned working with Owen Shaughnessy out in Red Rock three days ago, it seemed almost too good to be true. The chance to paint in the desert and have someone so highly respected take her on as an assistant? It had seemed like the perfect opportunity. And even though Brooke initially felt excited about it, it didn't take long for her own insecurities to come to the surface.

In a lot of ways, Owen reminded her of Neal-quiet, shy, and scary smart. When they were younger, Brooke took great pleasure in making fun of him because he was socially inept. She'd outgrown it, had apologized for it, but she'd never been able to forget it. And she certainly never received his forgiveness. And now...

She stopped the train of thought and sighed. She had a feeling Owen had probably experienced a lot of the same bullying Neal had-and probably at the hands of people just like her. It would serve her right if he didn't want her to work with him. As a former "mean girl," she knew she didn't deserve anyone's forgiveness for her behavior. No mercy. Which was exactly how she used to view those she deemed to be socially beneath her.

Maybe someday she'd be able to forgive herself.

But she doubted it.

Taking a deep breath, she stood and knew she needed to get going. There was no way she could stay here in this empty lecture hall and hide out all day-no matter how much she wanted to. Securing her portfolio strap over her shoulder, Brooke made her way to the door and pulled it open. There were several people in the hallway, but luckily none of them were her uncle or Owen Shaughnessy.

She looked around at the display cases as she made her way toward the exit. The science department wasn't a place where she was comfortable. Even though she loved painting the night sky and the cosmos, she certainly didn't know anything about them. And with no one having to say a word to her, she felt inferior. With every step she took, she could hear voices mocking her-telling her she wasn't smart enough to be there. Wasn't smart enough to assist someone as brilliant as Owen Shaughnessy.

Another sigh escaped before she could help it.

He had seemed nice. Sweet. His shyness had been endearing, and when he looked at her-well, when he had finally looked at her and met her gaze, she felt something she'd never felt before.

A connection.

Maybe she was crazy. Maybe she was imagining things. But as soon as Owen's dark eyes had met hers she felt...well, everything.

He was younger than she had expected-not that her uncle had said too much about him, but for some reason, she had pictured Owen Shaughnessy to be older. After meeting him, she figured him to be in his early thirties, and he was tall but not overly so, with thick, dark brown hair that probably could use a haircut but on him looked good. Mussed. A little bit wild.

A giggle came out before she could stop it. She was sure no one would look at Owen and think "wild," but she certainly did. That wasn't to say he didn't have his nerdy vibe going on-because he did-but there was something about him that called to her. And not in a professional "let's work together" kind of way, but as a man.

She swallowed hard and tried to calm her thoughts-which were now starting to wonder about how wise it would be to work with him if she was already feeling like this.

Giddy.

Fluttery.

Totally crushing on a man who'd said maybe five words to her.

Yeah. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

Pushing through the heavy exit door, Brooke stepped out into the crisp and cold Chicago air and cursed the fact that she had forgotten to put on her sweater. Shaking her head, she stopped and quickly slipped it on before walking down the steps to the parking lot at a fairly quick pace and making her way to her car. Just as she was opening the door, she saw him off in the distance.

Owen.

He must be through for the day too, she thought, and watched him walk toward what she assumed to be his own car. Why she stood and watched, she couldn't say. She found she enjoyed watching him. He was so different from almost every man she knew, and part of her longed to walk over and talk to him some more.

He seemed lonely.

Her uncle had mentioned how Owen wasn't based out of Chicago but was doing a short-term lecture series here before going to Nevada to prepare for the meteor shower project. And after that, who knew where he was going to go? From what she could tell, Owen Shaughnessy hadn't settled anywhere. He traveled too much. She almost envied him for it and then immediately took the thought back.

No wonder he was lonely.

Brooke wondered if he had any family other than his brother Riley. Was it just the two of them? Did Owen have anyone he connected to when he wasn't working? Was he involved with someone? That thought stopped her cold-it bothered her. Here she was just meeting him, yet the thought of feeling the connection she'd felt and then finding out he was involved with-or married to-someone else upset her more than it should.

Maybe she'd talk to her uncle a little more at dinner tonight.

Maybe she'd have to do a little investigating on her own.

Either way, whether she got to work with Owen Shaughnessy or not, Brooke knew today couldn't be their only interaction.

Relief.

It was Owen's immediate reaction when he had returned to his hotel room and closed the door. The entire drive had been spent thinking about Brooke Matthews.

And that reminded him-he needed to do a Google search and figure out who she was talking about because he had a feeling it was a pop culture reference he should know. Of course, it was too late to undo the awkwardness of not knowing it already, but that couldn't be helped. She seemed to recover from his faux pas, so at least there was that.

Right now, all Owen wanted was some peace and quiet to unwind. Maybe read the copy of Sky & Telescope he'd picked up just this morning-that would be a great way to relax and forget about the possibility of having a beautiful woman working as his assistant.

Right. As if he was going to forget that anytime soon.

Things like that didn't happen to him. Ever. Not that he didn't date attractive women-he had-but...wait a minute. He wasn't dating Brooke, he was going to work with Brooke. Maybe. Sighing, he put his satchel and laptop case on the desk and took off his jacket. And whether the assistant was Brooke or somebody else, Howard was right. He needed the help. Badly. As it was Owen had been warned-repeatedly-how he needed to hone his social skills because his students weren't connecting with him.

If he wasn't on this lecture circuit, Owen knew he wouldn't have to deal with things like this-with the constant stream of people wanting to socialize with him and talk about what he was doing. If he had stayed the course of his original plans, he'd be enjoying quiet time safely ensconced in his research.

Unfortunately, his career had taken a slight detour, and because of his inability to say no, he was stuck doing short-term guest lectures at universities all over the country. If he'd only been able to decline the very first time he'd been asked, Owen had no doubt he'd be happily situated in an office of his choosing right now.

He just wasn't sure where that office would be.

The thought of working close to his family in North Carolina was appealing. More so now that he'd been away for so long. It seemed as if everyone was slowly making their way back to their childhood hometown, and he had to admit he was a little envious, but it wasn't in the cards for him yet. Maybe in another year or so he'd be able to reevaluate his schedule and dictate where he wanted to be, but for now he had commitments he needed to honor, and that meant more time away.