Read Between the Lines

  Read Between the Lines

  By Erica Spindler

  READ BETWEEN THE LINES

  All Rights Reserved © 1992, 2013 by Erica Spindler

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Erica Spindler

  Originally published in print by Silhouette Books

  For my friends

  Without you, life wouldn’t be nearly so bright

  Thank you

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  “Excuse me?” Katherine Reed leveled her frostiest stare at the man sitting across from her.

  He shifted uncomfortably. “Nothing. Forget it.”

  “Yes, I think we’d better.” Katherine’s gaze swept over him. She disliked the petulant tilt of his lips even more than the skintight leather pants he was wearing. “That concludes your interview, Mr. Anderson. If you’ve been chosen for the experiment, you’ll hear from us within the week.”

  Over my dead body, Katherine silently added, watching him walk away. She still couldn’t believe he’d had the nerve to ask her what she wore to bed! As if sex was part of the deal! What a scumbucket.

  Who would think a nice, conservative town like Rockford, Illinois, would have so many weirdos? she wondered. And more, who would have suspected they would all show up to apply for a college sociology experiment?

  With a small sigh, she massaged the tense muscles at the nape of her neck. Every spring, her first-year graduate students were required to propose, participate in and document a sociological study. Traditionally, as a sign that she considered them professionals whose theories were worthy of her respect, she also participated. Until now, that hadn’t been a problem. Last year’s group had studied the social interaction and behavior transformation that take place in women-only organizations. The project had been interesting, the results enlightening.

  But this year’s students—she sighed again—had come up with something more challenging and much more provocative. They wanted to study the effect of platonic cohabitation between the sexes on behavior. And there was only one way to proceed—actual cohabitation.

  She’d always considered herself lucky to have landed a teaching position at a school as progressive as this one. For a small, private institution, Rock River College had an excellent reputation in the scientific community, and they spared no expense in maintaining that reputation.

  Katherine looked down at the stack of questionnaires and resisted the urge to sigh again. At this moment she didn’t feel lucky. Finding a partner for herself was proving even more difficult than she’d expected. The man before Leather Legs had asked if there would be room for his fourteen cats, three dogs and pet raccoon. Earlier that evening, she’d interviewed a religious fanatic—she still wasn’t sure what religion—and a man who’d reeked of gin. The only thing missing tonight had been nice, normal or average.

  Katherine rolled her shoulders in an attempt to loosen the muscles, then took a deep breath. They couldn’t get any worse than the last two. It wasn’t possible. Not really believing her own assurances, she stood to call out the next number.

  Then she saw him—Michael Tardo, proverbial bad boy from her past. He was talking to Marilyn and Ron Fuss, the students heading up the experiment. Her heart leaped to her throat. What was Michael doing here?

  Knowing she should either call out the next number or sit down, Katherine stared at him, her mouth dry, her palms damp. He hadn’t changed since their years together at Northern Illinois University—he was still broad-shouldered and lean; his dark, curly hair as thick and unruly as it had ever been. And he still dressed with casual panache. Black jeans faded to a rich charcoal outlined all the right places; the sleeves of his white sweater were pushed up, revealing muscular forearms.

  Katherine realized she was staring at the place where fabric met flesh, and looked away. Pulling herself up to her full five feet one inch, and sternly reminded herself that these days she was immune to Michael Tardo’s macho brand of good looks.

  Katherine drew her eyebrows together in thought. Shortly after her arrival in Rockford she’d learned Michael owned a popular college bar in the city. That hadn’t surprised her—she knew he had family here. But she was surprised to see him now, in this place. Academia was hardly his kind of scene, nor was a group of intellectuals his usual choice of companions. He was probably dating one of the coeds, she thought. A blonde, no doubt. One with a great figure and—

  Just then Michael turned his head and their eyes met. In one heart-stopping flash, Katherine remembered everything about him, from the way he smelled after a workout to the way he’d looked racing across campus on his motorcycle. And in that moment it seemed as if the eight years they’d been apart had slipped away and they were once again the best of friends, sharing jokes and dreams, laughter and disappointment.

  Michael lifted his hand in a playful salute and smiled. The curving of his lips was slow, easy and unabashedly sexy, and Katherine’s pulse fluttered. She forced a nonchalant smile, although nonchalant couldn’t be farther from what she was feeling.

  After eight years she was still acting the fool over Michael Tardo. The truth of that grated on her nerves, and she called number twenty-two, then sat back down. She tapped the stack of forms in front of her into a neat pile. Why couldn’t she have stood, called her number and not seen him? Sometimes life wasn’t fair—first, men wearing leather, now, Michael. Could this night get any worse?

  * * *

  “What do you think?” Michael Tardo asked, cocking his head as he considered the harried young woman in front of him.

  Marilyn Fuss slipped off her glasses and nervously rubbed the lenses with the edge of her jacket. “I don’t know. It seems like a perfect solution.”

  “Exactly what I thought.” Michael smiled reassuringly. Solutions were why he was here. To Katherine’s problems—and his own.

  “In fact,” Marilyn said, sounding suddenly more confident, “I imagine Dr. Reed will be relieved.”

  Michael followed the woman’s glance. A moment ago Katherine had been interviewing a man who’d dressed as if he owned stock in a leather company. The man sitting across from her now was gesturing wildly as he spoke. She looked frustrated. “I see what you mean,” he muttered.

  “Believe me, you haven’t seen anything.” Marilyn’s voice lowered to a whisper when Michael’s eyes met hers again. “The bottom of the barrel.”

  “So I heard,” Michael murmured, remembering what Katherine’s students had told him a couple of nights ago at the bar. That’s when he’d gotten the idea he might be able to kill two birds with one stone. Michael glanced back at Katherine. Her applicant was gone and she was staring pensively into space as she rubbed the back of her neck. She was an interesting woman; he’d thought so from the first. She was intelligent, outspoken and giving—all to a fault.

  And lovely. Even back at school, with her Coke-bottle lenses and boxy, banged haircut, he’d thought so. Tonight her hair was pulled away from her face in a simple ponytail. It was still the color of midnight. Her thick lashes and fine brows were just as dark and framed the same startling blue eyes. Those eyes, he knew from experience, could flash like gemstones in the sun or be as icy as a frozen lake.

  Other than
her coloring, everything about Katherine was delicate, from her tiny but perfectly proportioned body to her flawless porcelain skin and finely chiseled features. But Michael knew her too well to be fooled by appearances; Katherine had a backbone of steel, ironclad determination and a sharp wit.

  She stood up to call her next number and looked at him. He saw the question in her eyes and felt the oddest pang. There had been a time when she would have expected to see him, a time when they spent more hours together than apart. What had happened to their friendship?

  Just as he started to smile, Marilyn tapped him on the elbow.

  “You know, Michael, my husband and...oh, Dr. Reed’s called your number.” Marilyn tucked her clipboard under her arm. “Good luck.”

  “Thanks,” Michael murmured, then crossed to Katherine. She’d returned to her seat and didn’t look up as he approached. He stopped in front of the desk. “Hello, Katie.”

  Katherine pressed her lips together. She’d forgotten how he’d always called her that. How the sound of her nickname on his lips always caused her heart to skip a beat.

  She lifted her eyes. “Hello, Michael.” Her voice sounded unusually husky, and she cleared her throat.

  He leaned against the desk. “How’s it going?”

  He flashed her another of his breath-stealing smiles, and she busied herself with the already straightened stack of papers. “Fine...just fine. How are you?”

  “Good.” His eyes slid over her. “You look great.”

  “Oh...” It was all she could do to keep from squirming in her seat. She forced an indifferent smile. “Thanks.”

  He picked up her subtly toned scarf and ran it idly through his fingers. The delicate fabric felt unbelievably good against his skin. “Pretty.”

  Katherine watched as the silk slithered back and forth through his fingers. With a rush of heat, she realized what she was doing and jerked her gaze away. “Michael, I’m in the middle of interviewing... is there something you wanted?”

  “Yeah.” He slid his questionnaire on top of the stack in front of her. “Number twenty-three.”

  Katherine lowered her eyes. The form was filled in with the bold scrawl she remembered from years ago. A strange trembling started in the pit of her stomach, then moved upward. She and Michael living together? Oh, hell no. Even under the auspices of science. She sucked in a deep, steadying breath. “You can’t be serious.”

  She wasn’t surprised now, she was stunned. Michael liked her reaction and grinned. “But I am.”

  “This is a scientific experiment, Michael. Not one of your fraternity games.”

  “You’re studying the effect of cohabitation on behavior.” He saw her eyes heat and his smile deepened. “You know me—could I pass up something as provocative as cohabitation?”

  Even though only minutes before she’d used the same adjective to describe the study, it rankled coming from Michael. She counted to three before she spoke. When she did, her voice was tightly controlled. “This isn’t a joke, Michael. I take my work very seriously. But then, you’re the man who could never take anything seriously.”

  Michael reached across the desk and caught her hand. It was stiff under his, and he squeezed. “Some things never change, do they?”

  Unnerved, Katherine slid her hand from his. “How did you hear about the experiment?”

  He shrugged. “At the bar. Some of your students were talking about it. They seemed pretty tickled with themselves.”

  She glanced down at her hands and realized in dismay that she was rhythmically stroking the place where Michael’s had covered hers. She dropped them to her lap. “How much did they tell you?”

  He sank into the chair across from her. “After about a dozen beers, they told me quite a lot.”

  Great, she thought. So much for the social scientist’s shy, egghead image.

  Michael laughed and met her eyes. “After discussing interaction relations and causal points of view—”

  “Interactionist perspectives and causal relationships,” she corrected automatically.

  “Right.” Unperturbed, Michael relaxed against the chair back. “After that, they said you were too old.”

  “What!”

  “Too old,” he repeated blandly.

  “I heard you the first time,” she muttered. When she got her hands on them she would—

  “So tell me, Katie—” he leaned toward her and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper “—what are you too old for?”

  His eyes were alight with humor and the blood rushed to her cheeks. “Nothing! The groups are going to consist of people who are close in age, that’s all. Finding a partner for me is more difficult because the college-age applicants won’t...” Her voice trailed off as she saw he was laughing at her. She stiffened. “Why are you doing this, Michael? You certainly don’t need a place to live, or the two hundred bucks we pay.”

  “No. But you need me.”

  For a moment she felt as giddy as a schoolgirl, then reality set in. He was doing the same thing he’d done in college—appointing himself her protector, her guardian. The last thing she needed was a big brother. “You’re mistaken. I said finding a partner would be difficult, not impossible.”

  “My motives are far from selfless. Being your partner in the experiment would help me, too.”

  Katherine cocked her head and arched her brows in disbelief. “How so?” she asked, her tone grudging.

  He stared at a point over her left shoulder for a moment, then looked back at her. He wasn’t sure why, but he suddenly wished he didn’t have to tell her about Susi Steele. “This is going to sound silly, but here goes. An old friend of mine has a daughter who’s suddenly developed a crush on me. It’s crazy, since I’ve known her since she was about ten. Well, now she’s twenty and...” He cleared his throat. “I thought it would blow over, but it hasn’t. She’s really pursuing me and—”

  Always a woman, Katherine thought nastily. She should have known. “And you don’t want to hurt her?”

  “Yes,” he said softly. “She’s fragile...and I don’t want anything to interfere with my friendship with her father.”

  “You think she’ll bow out gracefully if you’re living with someone else?”

  “Nobody would get hurt.”

  Nobody but herself. “Sorry, Michael, it wouldn’t work.”

  Something he’d thought just a good option before, now seemed urgent. He tipped his hands palms up. “Why not? What better choice do you have? Mr. Leather Pants?”

  She lifted her chin. “For one thing, this is a scientific study. There are variables to be considered, variables that could eliminate you.”

  Michael bit back a smile. Talking to Marilyn beforehand was about to pay off. “Oh? I can’t imagine what. I’ve never been married, or lived with a member of the opposite sex. Nor have we ever been romantically involved.”

  Katherine blanched at the last. No, as far as he remembered they’d never been romantically involved. She curled her fingers into her palms. “You can say that again.”

  “See? We’re the perfect couple.”

  She’d thought so, too, a long time ago. Katherine hoped he wouldn’t hear the hint of desperation in her voice as she said, “But we’re old friends. I’m sure Marilyn and Ron would disqualify you on the basis of our past relationship.”

  “I already checked.” Michael settled back in the chair and folded his arms across his chest. “Marilyn said there wouldn’t be a problem.”

  Live with Michael? The thought made her lightheaded. “This is crazy; this makes no sense.”

  “It makes perfect sense.” He leaned toward her once again. “It solves both our problems. I avoid hurting a friend’s daughter; you get out of living with someone who fills their closet with leather.”

  Katherine brought her hand to the back of her neck again. “I’m not sure—”

  “What’s not to be sure about?” he pressed. “We’re old friends; living together should be a breeze. Why are you so opposed to
this?”

  Katherine dropped her hands to her lap. What could she say? That she was opposed because years ago she’d loved him and she wasn’t certain she could remain immune to him if they lived together? Or because they’d shared a night of passion he didn’t even remember?

  “Katherine,” he coaxed, “what’s wrong? You can tell me.”

  “Nothing.” She lowered her eyes. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m considering my options, that’s all.”

  “Well, consider this while you’re at it. At least with me you won’t have to worry about the bedroom door staying closed.”

  Refusing to admit how much his comment stung, Katherine met his eyes. “All right, Michael. I’ll accept your application. But there are three more days of interviews scheduled and I’m committed to seeing the rest of the applicants.”

  Michael smiled. “When will I hear from you?”

  “The first of next week I’ll let you know, either way.”

  “Great.” He stood and held out his hand. “I’m confident this will work.”

  She wished she could say the same. With a sinking sensation, she stood and fitted her hand to his.

  After tossing her a cocky smile, he turned and walked away. Katherine watched him for a moment, then squared her shoulders and called the next number.

  * * *

  Katherine paused before the door that announced Michael’s Place. She could do this, she assured herself. She could do this because she didn’t love him anymore. Drawing a deep breath, she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

  Midafternoon sun spilled through the picture windows at the far end of the otherwise dim room, creating a dramatic chiaroscuro reminiscent of a Rembrandt painting. Ceiling fans turned lazily overhead; staccato bursts of sudden laughter punctuated the musical flow of quiet conversations.

  Katherine stood in the shadowed doorway, her eyes unwittingly glued to him, her mouth suddenly dry. Michael was behind the bar, gesturing broadly as he talked to a group of students. She shook her head, her inky hair rippling with the movement. Some things never changed. Michael had been a hit with the college crowd when they were at Northern together, and he was a hit with them now.