The Beauty Queen's Makeover. Teresa Southwick
Читать онлайн книгу.
defendants and juries. The way her mouth pulled into a straight line told him she didn’t want to say more. And if he pushed, she was outta there. So he decided to change the subject.
“What brings you back here?”
“Do you remember Professor Gilbert Harrison?” she asked.
“Do I? He was my favorite teacher.”
She nodded. “Mine, too. He sent me a message that he’s having some sort of trouble with the college Board of Directors and needed my help.”
“I got the same message. And I’ve been nosing around.”
“Do you know what’s going on?” she asked.
He shook his head. “But where there’s smoke, there’s usually fire. And that’s what worries me. I can’t imagine the administrative body of a well-respected university going on a witch hunt without just cause.”
“But what reason could there be? He was always popular. A lot of my friends took his classes and used to hang out at his office. Do you remember how crowded it always was?”
Nate didn’t because he’d never seen the professor during his regular office hours. He’d had to hold down a job and take care of his grandmother. The professor had made time for him whenever he needed it.
“He’s a good teacher and was a generous friend to me,” he said, not quite answering her question, a defense lawyer tactic. “I’ll always be grateful to him for his help.”
Without it, he might not have made it through college—in spite of his high IQ. It was the stepping stone to law school and now he was considered one of the top defense attorneys in the country. Some of his defendants were notorious, which gave him more than his share of publicity. Katie didn’t remember him from college, and she’d given no clue she knew who he was now. But the way she’d tried to hide from him when they ran into each other was a big sign she wouldn’t relish any spotlight, even if it was collateral damage from him.
“He always did his best to help. That’s the way I remember him, too,” she said. “I wonder what’s going on.”
“Not a clue,” he admitted.
As they talked, he could see her relaxing with him and he wanted to keep it that way. His gut told him if she knew the finer points of his identity and profession, she’d run far and fast. And he very much didn’t want her to run. She’d been the single bright spot in his college experience. She’d been the reason he got out of bed every day—that and a dirt-poor kid’s obsession to get an education and make money. But now that he’d found her again, he intended to be her bright spot.
“I’ve been thinking.”
“Uh-oh, there’s a dangerous prospect. I thought I just saw the lights flicker with the power drain.”
“Very funny.” She was definitely relaxing. “As I said, I’ve been nosing around here at Saunders.”
“Why?”
“Just trying to gather information. Thought it might be helpful.”
“And is it?”
He shrugged. “It might be if I had any. I’m getting nowhere. Either I can’t get in to see anyone or the people I talk to claim to know nothing about anything.”
“And?”
“It’s time for me to go see Professor Harrison.”
“And?” she said again.
“I was wondering if you’d consider going with me.”
Nate held his breath while she thought over his suggestion.
“I’d like that,” she finally said.
He’d like that, too. More than she knew. More than he wanted her to know. Because he very much wanted time with her. Time to replace the shadows in her eyes with the sparkle he remembered.
But he knew that if she remembered him, time wouldn’t be his friend.
Chapter Two
“Hello, Professor Harrison.”
Kathryn stood just inside the office doorway and felt Nate’s warm hand on the small of her back. With an effort she controlled a shudder. The contact was supportive—a gentlemanly gesture, in no way threatening. But ever since that terrible night in college, she couldn’t trust even the most innocent touch of a man. Ted Hawkins had stolen that from her.
Then she felt the professor’s gaze on her and tensed for his reaction to her altered appearance. She realized her mentor had changed, too. His dark hair was graying now and his face was thinner, the lines beside his nose and mouth were craggy, as if carved and weathered. If his formerly warm, sparkling brown eyes were the window to his soul, it was fading fast. He stared, almost as if he didn’t see them.
The man she remembered would have stood and greeted them affably—and been delighted that her vocabulary included that word. She’d deliberately not worn her sunglasses, to get through the awkwardness as quickly as possible. The man she knew would have observed the scars on her face and known just the right thing to say. That man was gone.
His white, long-sleeved shirt was rumpled, the trademark bow tie askew. Absentminded professor was a cliché, but he certainly looked the part. More troubling was the fact she’d never known him to be forgetful, distracted or inattentive. He’d always been sharp and insightful, with a wealth of obscure information at his fingertips. Whatever had compelled him to ask for help must be serious—something was taking a terrible toll on this man.
Then she realized he was studying Nate. She glanced at him and saw tension in the line of his broad shoulders, the muscle contracting in his lean cheek.
He moved in front of the desk and held out his hand. “Nate Williams, Professor.”
“I know who you are,” the older man said a little impatiently. Then he looked at her and smiled. “Kathryn Price.” As if he finally remembered his manners, he held out his hand indicating the two chairs in front of his desk. “It was good of you to come. Please, sit down.”
“Thank you.” Kathryn sat.
Nate remained standing and gripped the back of the chair beside hers. When he spoke, the warm, melted-chocolate tone was missing from his voice. “What’s going on, Professor? Why did you send for us?”
Nate had morphed from the good-natured, self-confident hunk who’d single-handedly brought her sense of humor back to life into an ultraserious man who tweaked something in her memory. But, again, whatever it was wouldn’t shape up. She’d thought this setting would be familiar and possibly trigger memories of him. She’d been wrong.
At least some things didn’t change. This office—a gazillion books filling the shelves, scattered papers on the desk, photographs on the walls—was just as she remembered.
“What’s going on?” the older man repeated, glancing first at Nate, then her. “My job is in jeopardy.”
“No. That’s impossible.”
“Unfortunately, my dear, it’s all too possible.”
Kathryn leaned forward. “But why? You’ve been at Saunders for years. What about tenure?”
“Tenure can’t protect any educator against charges of impropriety. The Board of Directors is investigating me, looking for anything they can find and make stick.”
“Why would they do that?” she asked.
“Rumors. Innuendo. Maybe a little jealousy of my rapport with students.” He waved his hand dismissively.
“Will they find any evidence of impropriety?” Nate asked, his tone more gentle.
“Of course they won’t.” Kathryn frowned at him. He’d said where there’s smoke,