Read Between the Lines Read online

  Even as he reached for the first of the offending coat buttons, his eyes snapped open. They were outdoors, it was February and freezing, someone could see them... and none of that mattered. He wanted Katie underneath him and naked; he wanted to feel her smooth flesh against his, wanted to hear her pleasure as he slipped into her.

  He wound his fingers possessively in her hair as the words she’d flung at him filled his head. Was he repeating history? If he was, it was a history more distant than his and Katie’s—more distant and much more painful. He looked down at her and worked to control his ragged breathing. And if history was to be repeated, wouldn’t that make him no better than the father who’d begun it?

  Michael dropped his hands and set her away from him. Her eyes opened, at first confused, then hurt. The look twisted his gut. But the truth was, he was the type of guy who would make a life out of hurting her.

  Katherine realized she was still clutching his jacket at the same instant she became aware that he wasn’t touching her at all. Color stung her cheeks, and she jerked herself upright.

  “You were right, Katie,” he said softly, trailing a finger along her jaw. Her skin was as soft as down and he lingered over it as a convicted felon would linger over his last moment of freedom. Finally, regretfully, he lowered his hand. “Repeating history isn’t such a great idea.”

  Without another word, he turned on his heel, went around the car and climbed in. Katherine watched him until the restored Corvette disappeared into the snarl of cars on North Main. Letting out her breath in a single shaky sigh, she went inside.

  Chapter 5

  The following Saturday morning Katherine unlocked her office door and turned on the light. For today’s interview she and Michael were being seen separately, and, luckily, she’d drawn Marilyn. Knowing her student would be there any moment, she slipped hurriedly out of her coat and gloves. She needed every extra minute to prepare herself for what she had to say.

  Katherine looked down at her trembling hands. She was withdrawing from the study. It had been inevitable from the first, but she’d tried to fool herself—into believing she was immune to Michael, into thinking she could be objective.

  She sank into the chair behind her desk, then dropped her head into her hands. Objective? That was a laugh. Twelve years ago she’d taken one look at Michael Tardo and objectivity had been lost forever. She’d recognized the truth of that at eighteen, why hadn’t she been able to at thirty? She sighed. It seemed that pride, age and stupidity grew in direct proportion to one another.

  She swiveled around in her chair to look out the one small window her office boasted. The past week had been her idea of hell. Michael had surprised her by being around quite a lot, but he’d been short with her to the point of gruffness. That was, when he had bothered to acknowledge her presence at all.

  It was what she’d originally wanted—not to go back to the friends they had been or forward to some new relationship, but to cautiously avoid each other. But what she’d wanted and what she felt were two very different things. And it was tearing her apart.

  “Morning, Prof. You okay?”

  Katherine peered over her shoulder at Marilyn. “And to think I doubted you had the intuitive skills required of the social scientist.”

  “Sarcasm? My, my, you are in bad shape. Would a breakfast of overprocessed white flour, sugar, preservatives and a dozen other ingredients whose names I can’t pronounce help?” Marilyn waved a bag from a well-known doughnut chain.

  Katherine smiled for the first time that morning. “You eat entirely too much junk.”

  “Yeah, so what else is new?”

  Shaking her head, Katherine swiveled back around and motioned her student to come in. Marilyn Fuss was brilliant but eccentric. She’d attended Rock River College as an undergraduate, had earned her degree, gotten married, then both she and her husband had come back to complete their educations. Not only was she one of Katherine’s best students, but over the years they’d transcended the student-teacher relationship to become friends.

  Marilyn dropped the bag on the desk, then pulled a thermos out of her tote. “Hangover?” When Katherine only arched an eyebrow, Marilyn laughed and poured two cups of coffee. “Okay, so what’s up?”

  Katherine selected a sugar-sprinkled jelly doughnut, then passed the bag back. “Marilyn, how old are you?”

  “Twenty-eight.” Marilyn picked out a doughnut caked with powdered sugar and grinned. “I buy most of my clothes secondhand and dye my hair. But then, I’m supposed to be interviewing you.”

  “True.” Katherine nudged her untouched pastry. She didn’t want to do this; she had no choice. If she didn’t she wouldn’t be able to live with herself. “Have you ever totally embarrassed yourself in front of me?”

  This time, Marilyn’s eyebrows arched. “Although that does sound like my style, I’m curious. Why do you want to know?”

  “I was hoping you had because—” Katherine cleared her throat “—I’m about to do the same.”

  Marilyn shook her head in disbelief. “Not the cool, collected Dr. Katherine Reed? Not the professor who—”

  “I’m withdrawing from the experiment.”

  “What!”

  “I have to.” Katherine couldn’t meet the other woman’s eyes so she pushed away from the desk and stood. She crossed to the bookshelves. Needing something to do with her hands, she trailed a finger along the dusty volumes. “All last week I was torn... between embarrassment and professionalism. Between the need to hide and the need to do my job.” She brushed the dust from her fingers, then turned back to Marilyn. “In a minute I’m going to feel even more ridiculous than I do now.”

  “This is about Michael.”

  It wasn’t a question, and Katherine cheeks heated. She wanted to deny it; she wanted to go on pretending. She faced Marilyn instead. “Michael and I have a past relationship.”

  “You were friends. He told me, and I—”

  “We were more than friends...we were lovers.” Her hands were trembling again. Katherine slipped them into her pockets and proceeded to sketch out the details for Marilyn.

  When she’d finished, Marilyn let out a long, low whistle. “Why didn’t you say something?”

  “I felt trapped. Michael had already cleared our being friends with you and Ron and was pressing me for an answer. He wanted to know why I was so opposed to his participation.” She pulled her hands out of her pockets and gestured nervously. “I thought I could handle it. I thought I was past any feelings I had for him. I thought—”

  “You’re in love with him,” Marilyn said in a no-nonsense tone of voice.

  Katherine groaned. “I shouldn’t have joked about your intuitive powers.”

  “What do you plan to do?” Marilyn pushed her doughnut aside and rested her elbows on the desk.

  “Withdraw from the study.” Katherine sat back down. “There’s no other way. From the first my participation weakened it.”

  “Not that.” Marilyn shot her an exasperated look. “What do you plan to do about your feelings for Michael? After all, you can’t catch him if you don’t chase him.”

  Katherine shook her head. “I did enough chasing to last a lifetime. Besides, right now the only thing I should be concerned with is the study and its success.”

  Marilyn made a clucking noise with her tongue as she tapped her index finger against her bottom lip. “How does he feel about you?”

  “He has no romantic interest in me; he never will. He thinks of himself as a friend and big brother.”

  “But—”

  “Give it up, Marilyn,” Katherine warned, reaching for her coffee.

  Marilyn plucked at her bright red bob. “Have you considered what Michael’s going to say when you tell him you’ve withdrawn from the study? Or how you’re going to explain this to the other students?”

  Katherine’s hand paused halfway to her lips. She hadn’t. She’d been so intent on facing Marilyn this morning, she hadn’t considered facing Michael o
r the other students later. How could she explain? Every option she came up with was more mortifying than the last.

  “I can see by your expression that you haven’t.” Marilyn leaned back in her chair. “I have a proposal to make. One that gets you off the hot seat—with Michael and the study.” At Katherine’s interested glance, she went on. “You continue as if nothing has changed. You live with Michael, you meet with me for the weekly interviews. Say whatever you want because I won’t include it in the statistics.”

  “What about Michael?”

  “What about him?” Marilyn lifted her hands, palms up. “You already said he doesn’t think of you as anything more than a friend... that he never will. I see no reason why we can’t continue to monitor his behavior. In fact, why don’t we tell him from now on the interviews will all be conducted separately. That way he’ll feel free from the constraints of your past relationship to answer honestly. And you won’t even have to show.”

  “It’s the perfect out for me,” Katherine murmured, meeting Marilyn’s eyes gratefully. “No wonder you’re my prize student.”

  Marilyn grinned. “And I was my mamma’s prize baby.”

  Katherine returned her smile. “Yeah, but I bet she hates that hair.”

  Marilyn patted her spiky red hairdo and stood. “Now that that’s settled, I’m going to meet my honey to correlate this week’s responses. We have some interesting situations developing.”

  “Oh?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” She slung her book bag and coat over her arm. “Sid and Janet hate each other. They’ve used textbooks to section off areas of the apartment as ‘hers’ and ‘his.’ On another front, Mary’s gorilla boyfriend threatened to “rearrange” Tim’s face and now Tim’s afraid to even talk to her.”

  Katherine bit back a smile. “It’s pretty hard to watch for subtle behavioral changes with the threat of death hanging over your head.”

  “Tell me about it.” Marilyn stopped at the door. “Here’s my personal favorite. Sweet, shy Tracy Lynn has decided Nick is sexier than, get this, ‘Matthew McConhaughey and Bradley Cooper’ and is acting like a groupie. Nick thinks it’s disgusting and has made noises about quitting.”

  Katherine couldn’t help herself and threw her head back and laughed. “I’m sorry, it’s just that I can’t imagine Tracy—”

  “I know,” Marilyn said miserably, hitching her book bag onto her shoulder. “So far, no one’s responding as anticipated.”

  Katherine heard the disappointment in her student’s voice and her smile faded. She knew how frustrating research could be. Her little bomb this morning hadn’t helped. “Chin up. This is only the second week. And remember, the two things that are most important here are the information gained through the research, whether it proves or disproves your hypothesis, and adhering to a scholarly, scientific approach. Besides, you’ll be surprised by what develops in the next couple of weeks.”

  Marilyn brightened visibly and shot Katherine a mischievous grin. “I’m already surprised.” Hand on the doorknob, she looked back over her shoulder. “Prof?”

  “Hmm?” Katherine glanced back up at Marilyn.

  “I still say, you can’t catch something you refuse to chase.” With that, she ducked out of the office.

  Katherine frowned at the now empty doorway, Marilyn’s words running through her head. You can’t catch something you refuse to chase. That doesn’t apply here, Katherine told herself, drumming her fingers against the open book in front of her. She’d given it her best shot. Sure she had. In college she’d...

  Katherine drew her eyebrows together, stilling her fingers. In college she’d what? Hidden her feelings behind a mask of a friend and waited and hoped and prayed that suddenly he would see her as more than one.

  She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. And if she was facing facts, she might as well face them all. The fact was, she’d never once let Michael know what she wanted or what she felt. She’d never been honest with him... or herself. How could she? She’d been too busy denying and hiding. Thinking she wasn’t good enough--experienced or pretty enough for him.

  Chasing Michael? she thought again, the corners of her mouth lifting in a mocking smile. She’d been running in the opposite direction.

  There was a strange trembling in the pit of her stomach; Katherine pushed the sensation away. It didn’t matter what she’d done. Even without her Coke-bottle glasses she wasn’t Michael’s type. She’d seen the women he dated. They were beautiful and vivacious and...

  And she was a defeatist, Katherine realized, the trembling sensation spreading. A defeatist and a coward. She’d always thought of herself as decisive. She’d always taken pride in the fact that she knew what she wanted and went after it. She always knew what she wanted all right—but she didn’t always go after it. Not in her personal life. Not when she had something that could be wounded—like her heart or pride.

  Katherine looked down at her hands; they were shaking. All this time she’d loved Michael but had never given them a chance. She’d been too much of a coward.

  Katherine stiffened her spine. Ridiculous, that’s what it was! She was a grown woman, independent and intelligent. She should go after what she wanted!

  The niggling doubt still remained, manifesting itself as an image of what every woman she’d ever known Michael to date looked like. She pictured long, flowing hair, a lush, long-legged figure, confidence oozing from every pore.

  Confidence.

  Katherine scowled and pulled a compact out of her top desk drawer. She peered into the tiny mirror, turning this way and that, appraising herself. She was attractive, not flashy, not knockout beautiful, but attractive. Katherine snapped the compact shut and tossed it back into the drawer. This wasn’t about looks; it was about attitude. Could she be Michael’s type of woman?

  Confident. In herself. Her sexuality.

  Katherine caught her bottom lip between her teeth. One couldn’t acquire attitude over the counter. One couldn’t buy a husky laugh and come-hither smile in a department store. Michael’s women liked to laugh instead of analyze, liked to flirt and tease and take chances. Could she do it?

  Anger at her own cowardice had the blood rushing to her cheeks. She was always whining about repeating history. Now was her chance to change it. She wanted Michael and she would do everything in her power to make him want her. Starting now, she was taking charge of her life.

  Grabbing her purse, she took the first step.

  * * *

  Seven hours later, Katherine pirouetted in front of her bedroom mirror. She’d been in front of the glass fifteen minutes; she still couldn’t believe the transformation. The hairdresser had snipped and shaped and molded. The style was more flirtatious than sexy. With a delighted smile, she shook her head, enjoying the way the long layers swung with the movement. She lowered her eyes. A helpful saleswoman had suggested soft, feminine clothes, convincing her she was too tiny to carry off the fashion-forward look she’d been sure she wanted.

  The woman was good at her job, Katherine thought, pleasure warming her cheeks. The sweater was angel-soft, pure white with a scooped neckline and long, fitted sleeves. The black-and-white herringbone skirt was short and artfully coy, with attached pleats that skimmed over her hips, flaring at mid-thigh. As she moved, the fabric played peekaboo with her knees. The wedge-heeled boots added height and style.

  Katherine smoothed the sweater over her hips, and as she thought of the wispy bits of lace underneath, her cheeks went from pink to rose. She felt absolutely wicked.

  Now for the test—facing Michael. She needed to be fun, flirtatious; she needed to let him know what she wanted. He was at the bar; he’d left a note that he was shorthanded and would be working tonight. Katherine drew a deep breath. Maybe a public launch would be better than a private one, anyway—a drink couldn’t hurt. Letting out her breath in a determined hiss, she decided this was it.

  * * *

  The bar was slow for a Saturday night. Michael glanced around the nearly empty
room and hoped the students had exams, a prom or some other event scheduled for tonight. If they didn’t, he could be in trouble. He shot a smile at the bored waitress and thought fleetingly about letting her go home, then rejected the thought. The bar business was as unpredictable as the people who frequented them—at eight the place could be dead, by nine, packed.

  He frowned. Tonight, being a single bartender serving a capacity crowd could be a blessing—he wouldn’t have time to think about Katie. His frown deepened, and he wished someone would order a drink. When no one did, he admitted the truth—she was all he’d been able to think about. Katie in his arms: warm, passionate, totally his. Katie’s lips parting, her hands clutching. Katie wearing a flannel gown and sweat socks...her feet sliding on the linoleum... the two of them falling to the bed.

  Michael shook his head. He had better get a grip on his over-sexed imagination—now he was inventing things that had never happened.

  Michael looked at his watch, cursed under his breath, then checked the clock behind the bar. Before he’d lost his head and let his hormones take over, he and Katherine had been getting along so well. He’d had Katie back in his life. It’d been like old times and...

  Michael grimaced. What a laugh. What he’d felt since the moment he’d stepped into her apartment had nothing to do with the platonic friendship they’d shared in college, and everything to do with being a man...a man living with a beautiful woman.

  He plucked a cocktail straw from the box and tapped it against the bar. Dammit, where had this gnawing need come from? He ached for her in a way he would have thought impossible. He certainly hadn’t asked for it. All he’d ever expected from her was friendship. He didn’t want to complicate things; he didn’t want a relationship and all the hurt feelings that came with its inevitable end. Because he knew it would come to an end.

  Disgusted, he tossed the straw in the trash. Katherine wasn’t a woman to be trifled with. She wasn’t a woman who would casually start an affair or just as casually end it. She needed commitments, promises. She didn’t have to tell him that—he just knew.