Man Who Loved Pride and Prejudice (26 page)

   Later that week he received her Trivial Pursuit email. When he saw a notice for the writer-in-residence position at Haverford, he knew it was fate. He would meet her on her own ground, he would give her time to get to know him, and when she did, he would tell her how he felt about her, without demands or questions.

   Her email about meeting him at Haverford was an enormous relief, a sign he still had a chance. With each new message, he became cautiously more optimistic. Surely if she planned to reject him, she wouldn't go to this much trouble. Now he only had to keep the lines of communication open until he could see her. He thought for a moment and then began to type.

Calder

Talk?? Me? I hope they don't expect the seminar to last over five minutes!

Calder

   
Cassie

   He never thought he would feel so grateful for being teased. If she was willing to tease him, especially about his inability to express himself, then she wasn't just tolerating him because she had to.

   He moved the mouse and clicked on a bookmarked site he had visited so often that his hand seemed to go there automatically. It was from a scientific conference two years earlier and contained small photos of the presenters. He gazed at Cassie's picture, wondering for the thousandth time what she had been thinking of when it was taken to give her that mischievous look he remembered so well. He closed his eyes and could see her before him again: toweling her hair dry at the beach, the look on her face when he touched her deep inside, her head on his shoulder as she lay asleep in his arms.

Cassie's anxiety rose as Thursday approached. She began to remember some of Calder's annoying habits—his abruptness, his silences, and his sudden changes in mood. Even if she had a better understanding of him now, what would happen when he fell silent and she couldn't read him? How was she to judge what he really wanted from her when she was so ambivalent herself? What if he had already moved on from the feelings he had for her, or if his book was more fictional than she thought?

   She was glad she had a lecture to give on Thursday morning. It would distract her from thoughts of what Calder was doing across the campus. But when she returned to her office after the class, she found a message from Dr. Yang requesting her attendance at a meeting that afternoon. Puzzled, she rearranged her schedule to allow her to go.

   The entire English department was there. Cassie felt like a fish out of water.

   "Well, any comments?" Dr. Yang asked.

   "He seemed nice enough," said one person. "I couldn't see anything to object to, and as you said, we'd be hard put to turn down someone with his credentials,
if
he really wants the job."

   "Yes, that's still the question, isn't it?" asked Dr. Gottschalk.

   "For what it's worth," Cassie said, "he told me he's serious about it."

   "Hmm. That's good news, I suppose," said Dr. Yang. "He didn't really
sound
all that interested," said another doubtfully. "But then again, I found him pretty hard to read."

   Dr. Yang raised an eyebrow in Cassie's direction.

   "Don't look at me!" she said. "I could earn a second PhD in how to misread Ca— Stephen West."

   "But you would favor hiring him?"

   "I have no reason to think he shouldn't be hired," she said carefully.

   Hal Bailey asked, "Did our beloved president have anything to say about him?"

   "In fact, President Carroll said something quite curious on the subject," said Dr. Yang, watching Cassie closely. "He said, 'If you want my advice, hire him. I don't care if he can teach or write or even speak English, just hire him.'"

   There were exclamations of surprise from around the room. President Carroll was notoriously hands-off in matters of hiring, preferring to respect the independence of each department in those matters. The comment was remarkably out of character.

   Cassie hid a smile. If Calder was trying to pass unrecognized, apparently he hadn't been completely successful. Given that one of the major roles of any college president was fundraising, she had no doubt why President Carroll would want Calder Westing on the faculty. But it was a taste of things to come. If Calder took the job at Haverford, the secret of Stephen West's identity wasn't going to survive long.

   "Dr. Boulton," said Dr. Yang pointedly. "Do you have anything to share on the subject?"

"Nothing in particular," she replied.

   He removed his glasses and laid them on the table. "It is very difficult to chair a committee on hiring a candidate," he said acerbically, "when everyone around me appears to have important information that I lack."

   Cassie said, "If you're suggesting I'm holding information back, you're quite correct. However, I'm
not holding back any information relevant to whethe
r he's qualified for this position." There was no point in trying to pretend at this point. If they hired Calder, they would learn soon enough that she had been keeping secrets. "As for President Carroll, I can
guess why h
e said that, but if he's not saying, I don't think it's my place to do so."

   Dr. Yang eyed her for a moment. "Your point is taken, Dr. Boulton. Nonetheless, this puts me in a difficult position."

   Cassie endured his stare for a minute and then shrugged. She still needed tenure, and alienating a powerful faculty member wouldn't help her. She tore a sheet of paper out of her notebook and wrote on it:

   
He's rich as Croesus and very well connected. He's
known in philanthropic circles, and President Carroll
may have recognized him.

   She folded the paper and handed it up the table to Dr. Yang.

   He opened it and examined it, seeming to consider for a moment. Then he refolded it carefully and put it down. "You're right; this has no bearing on his candidacy," he said. "Does anyone else have any concerns I should be aware of before I have my exit interview with him?" He looked around the room. "If not, we'll meet

"THERE'S A STEPHEN WEST here to see you." Cassie recognized the voice of Denise, the department secretary. "I'll be right out," she said and hung up the phone. Her heart was pounding.

   She stood and paused nervously, looking around her office. Calder had seen her lab in Woods Hole, so he should be used to her piles of books and journals. She straightened her blouse and headed down the hall, assuming a confidence she didn't feel.

   Calder was waiting outside the department office, dressed for an interview, with his coat slung over his arm. Otherwise, he looked just the same as she remembered—the planes of his face, his dark hair. The familiar look was in his eyes, the one that had always made her feel warm inside. Now, knowing what lay behind it, she could practically feel her legs trembling.

   A couple of students lounged on a bench across the hall. Cassie held out her hand to Calder, conscious of the audience. "Welcome to Haverford,
Stephen. How wa
s your interview?"

   "Very informative. Haverford is impressive, but you knew that already." He held her hand a little longer than necessary.

   "I gather you were paying attention when I told you my opinion of a small-college education." She had to stop staring at him like an infatuated teenager. "Would you like the grand tour? We're very proud of our new building."

   The corners of his mouth turned up. "Then I certainly must see it."

   She gave him a sidelong glance as she led him down the hall to a large lab, still feeling the shock of their hands touching. That part of their connection hadn't changed. "This is where we have Bio 101 lab. Most afternoons it's full of pre-meds and one or two serious biologists. Quite a difference from my closet in Woods Hole."

   He looked around, taking in the shiny new fixtures and the well-maintained equipment. "True, but that had its own charms."

   She could feel his eyes on her as she pointed to the room across the hall. "The biochem and genetics students share this one. Down the hall, we have our main lecture hall. I'm not quite used to it yet. It makes me feel like I'm on the bridge of a spaceship. And this is my office. The most exciting part of moving to this building was getting an office with a window."

   Calder studied the sign on her door listing her office hours and then followed her inside. "It's nice."

   The small space made her even more aware of him physically. "Would you like to see my great accomplishment?" Nervously, she picked up a journal from her desk. "It came out last month. This is from the work I did the summer we met. It was a bit of a coup, getting it in
Advances in Marine Biology.
" She opened it to the middle and handed it to him.

   He didn't just glance through the dense scientific text as most non-biologists did but leaned back against her desk and read it. Cassie took the opportunity to study him unobtrusively. She remembered the lines of his face and the shape of his body so well, even after all this time. Her lips tingled as she recalled how his shoulders felt under her hands. It was disconcerting, this sense that her body knew his, even after all this time. Almost as disturbing as the sense that he was both a complete stranger and a close friend at the same time.

   "The Great Sippewisset Salt Marsh. I never knew it had a name." Calder glanced up at her. He took a deep breath at the look on her face and then returned to the article.

   She would have sworn the temperature in the room had gone up a couple of degrees. She gazed studiously out into the hallway, reminding herself it was just hormones and a primitive urge to procreate. She couldn't throw herself into his arms the minute he arrived. That hadn't solved anything for them before. They needed to talk this time.

   Finally, he closed the journal and gave it back to her. "Very impressive. I won't claim to understand the statistics, but I'm glad you got your publishable results."

   She remembered the time they had talked about her need for results, in his dark car on the way to the marsh, and what else had happened that night. "Thanks. I am, too."

   He was silent for a moment. "I didn't think you'd hear about my interview." His expression took on a touch of teasing. "At Harvard, the science faculty don't even know that the English department exists, much less talk to them."

   She gave an amused smile. "Things are different here." Her words took on a resonance she hadn't intended.

   "I'm glad of that." He looked at her with that intent stare she remembered so well. "Are you still free for dinner?"

   Free for the asking was more like it. She had to get control of herself. "Of course. I'm looking forward to it."

   His eyes warmed. "When will you be done here?"

   "I can leave now, if you want." She reached for her coat.

   He took it from her and held it out. Cassie, unused to such treatment, awkwardly shrugged into it. As he brought the collar around her neck, his hands rested briefly on her shoulders. She could feel the after-effects of his touch all the way to her toes.

   He put on his jacket. "Cassie," he said, sounding suddenly uncertain.

   She looked up at him. The disquiet in his face was out of keeping with the aura of confidence he usually projected, but if his book was to be believed, the confidence was a false front. And he trusted her with his feelings, even after everything she'd done. It made her want to hold him and reassure him that everything would be all right. If only she could say that with confidence. There were still so many unknowns.

   Instead she gave in to the temptation to touch him. She straightened his lapels, using the action as an excuse to let her hands linger on his chest for a moment. She was only inches away from him. "It's good to see you again."

   "Thank you." Tension radiated from his body.

   Of course he was holding back. She knew about his feelings from his book. He was still in the dark about hers. It was almost comic. "Oh, dear," she said, giving him an impish look.