“Positive.”
Paula embraced her. “I’m really sorry it didn’t work out with Fox,” she said. “I know I’ve said some bad things about him, but if he’s what you want, you know I’d like you to have him.”
“It’s okay; I understand.”
Paula smiled at her with misty eyes. “At least you got your work done. It’s hard to remember that was the real reason you came here.”
“Sometimes it is for me, too,” Cindy replied, her tone wistful.
“I’m going to miss you. It was like being back in school again,” Paula said, sniffing.
“Without the dormitory food,” Cindy answered, and Paula laughed.
“And the hissing radiator,” she added.
“And the guy who called at three a.m. every Friday night and breathed into the hall phone. Remember him?”
Paula groaned. “How could I forget? After we stopped answering the phone he started sending letters to the mail proctor, who just happened to be me.”
They looked at each other, delaying the separation with small talk. They could never recapture a happy past that had fled down the corridors of time.
Paula hugged Cindy quickly again, and said, “Write or I’ll kill you.” Then she stalked off in the direction of the main doors, not looking back.
Cindy watched her leave, and then filed through the security check, dutifully producing her wristwatch when it set off the alarm. Then she sat in the lounge clutching her boarding pass, wondering how she was going to get through the rest of the day, the week, the month.
She leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes. She didn’t open them again until the public address system announced the boarding of her plane.
Chapter 10
Two weeks crawled by. Cindy submitted her paper and assumed her teaching duties, which failed to fill up her time in the way that she had hoped. She had enough free hours in which to miss Fox and rethink every moment she had spent with him. She kept telling herself that her state of mind would improve, but she didn’t actually believe it. Like the human quarry that Fox chased, her heart had been stalked and captured.
She was the first person in the department on Thursday morning. After pausing in the lounge to make coffee, she unlocked Richard’s door with one hand, balancing a stack of books with the other. Her briefcase was clutched under the arm that pushed in the door. She took one look inside the office and screamed. All her burdens crashed to the floor.
There was a man sprawled on the carpet behind the desk.
Cindy thought briefly of security, and then realized that the guard was at the other end of the building and there was nobody else around. She was backing out when the man sat up and regarded her sleepily, awakened by the noise.
It was Fox. He pushed his hair out of his eyes and yawned.
“Hi, princess,” he said, as if she had just encountered him in the checkout line at the grocery store.
“Hi!” Cindy exclaimed. “That’s all you have to say? What on earth are you doing here? And how did you get in?”
“I broke in last night,” he said casually, unfolding the jacket he had used for a pillow. “You should have that lock changed. I jimmied it in about three seconds, and then reset it once I got inside. Not very safe for all of your research, right?”
“Look,” Cindy said, trying not to lose her temper, “suppose you tell me why you broke in at all. I presume you still know how to use the telephone?”
“Your number is unlisted,” he answered, rising to his full height and stretching. “What a hard floor in here. Got to watch that. It could give you flat feet.”
Cindy could feel herself mentally counting to ten. “You have my address,” she said.
He shook his head, looking a little sheepish. “No, I don’t. Paula wouldn’t give it to me.”
Cindy stared at him.
“I asked her for it, twice, and she said that I’d get the keys to the pearly gates before I got your address from her.”
Cindy grinned. That sounded like Paula. “Now why do you imagine she said that?” Cindy asked him.
“She seems to think I treated you badly,” he answered, his green eyes seeking hers.
“And what do you think?”
“I think I treated you badly,” he said quietly.
That gave Cindy a moment’s pause. She cleared her throat and asked, “How is Paula?”
“The same as ever. Mad at me.”
“Good for her,” Cindy said crisply.
He fidgeted with the blotter on Richard’s desk. “Does that mean you’re not going to listen to me?”
“That depends upon what you have to say,” she replied, forcing herself to remain on the other side of the room. She wanted to run to him and fling her arms around his neck, but that would never do.
“Do you know why I came to see you the night before you left?” he asked abruptly.
‘‘Why don’t you tell me?”
“I knew that you were going, and I couldn’t stay away. I had to be with you that one last time.”
“And you were.”
His expression softened and his voice changed. “I can still see the way you looked, dancing all by yourself. You would never let go like that if you knew someone were watching.”
“I let go,” Cindy replied. “I let go with you.”
Fox lowered his eyes. “Does that mean I bring out the worst in you?”
“The best, I would have said.”
He drew a breath, then exhaled slowly. “That’s why I’m here,” he said. “Because we bring out the best in each other.”
Cindy watched him, hardly daring to hope. He had disappointed her so painfully already.
Richard chose that inopportune moment to arrive at his office. He looked from Cindy to Fox and his mouth fell open comically.
“Hi, Richard,” Cindy said quickly. “This is Andrew Fox; I met him when I was down in Florida. Drew, my thesis advisor, Richard Caldwell.”
The two men shook hands, and Richard tried not to stare at Fox’s wrinkled clothing or the backpack dangling by its strap from his arm.
“Drew, why don’t we go down to the lounge and talk,” Cindy said pointedly, taking his hand and practically dragging him into the corridor. “Richard, I left those notes you wanted on your desk.”
Fox followed her down the hall, oblivious to the stares of the arriving employees. He was like an exotic bird in a covey of sparrows.
“Just go inside,” Cindy said to him. “I’ll be right with you.”
She hurried down to the secretary and told her to greet her class and give them a reading assignment. Then she dashed back to the lounge, where Fox was drinking coffee and reading the notices posted on the bulletin board.
“Somebody’s selling three dozen used tennis rackets for seventy-five dollars,” he announced to her. “You ought to take advantage of that one.”
“I have to make this fast,” she said. “My class will be coming in soon.”
He turned to look at her, and his face was expressionless. “I’m sorry if I interrupted your schedule,” he said stiffly.
“Come on, Drew, be fair. I have work to do here and I didn’t know you were coming.”
“All right,” he said. “I’ll be quick. I’m here because I can’t live without you. I’ve tried, and I can’t do it.”
“You sound annoyed about it,” she observed, almost whispering. She wanted to ask him to repeat it. Had he really said it?
The outer door opened and Rachel Clarkson came in, carrying a stack of papers. When she looked up and saw the two of them her eyes darted back and forth, seeking an explanation.
“Do you mind?” Fox asked, displaying his most charming smile. “I am trying to talk to this young lady.” He ushered a stunned Rachel back out the door. Rachel was the worst gossip in the department; Cindy knew that the story would be legend by five o’clock that day.
“Drew, you can’t keep throwing people out of here,” she said, when he returned. “This is the department lounge, for heaven’s sake.”
“Really? I thought it was Grand Central Station.” He sighed with exaggerated patience. “All right. Where can we go?”
Cindy thought about it with a mind too dazzled by his latest admission to have a clear grasp of anything. “The catalog room should be empty.”