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She put her sunglasses back on. “I’m surprised you didn’t ask how it happened.”
He knew “it” was some kind of accident. “Do you want to tell me?”
“No.”
The response was succinct, decisive and unequivocal. He slid his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “That’s good enough for me.”
If anyone could understand not wanting to discuss scars, it was Nate. And not all of them had been on his face. Severe teenage acne had left his face badly marked. As if that wasn’t enough to deal with, his nose was broken in a college fight. Those were the days when everyone made fun of his “crater face.” Everyone but Katie. She’d hung out at his fraternity house with her boyfriend. The jerk never passed up an opportunity to pick on the brainer geek who desperately tried to avoid him and fade into the woodwork.
Every time Nate was the butt of another joke, Katie made it a point to find something nice to say to him, and her sweetness managed to neutralize the filth from whatever dirt was shoveled his way. He would always be grateful to her for that. He wasn’t lying about her character. To him, her heart and soul had always been even more beautiful than her face. And that was saying something because he also hadn’t been lying about her being the prettiest girl on campus. She’d always wanted to be a model. He wondered about the state of her career now.
In college, the few who were acquainted with Nate Williams knew him as Wide Load Willie or Zit-face Willie. At the time, the nicknames were humiliating and he’d never expected to be grateful for them. But he was now. Because Katie didn’t know him by his given name. When he’d finally joined a top legal defense firm and started making some money, he’d gone to a plastic surgeon who specialized in scar removal, had his nose fixed and hired a personal trainer to get him in shape. There was nothing left of Wide Load Willie and he no longer faded into the woodwork. Improved appearance had given him the confidence to take center stage in his career.
But when he’d introduced himself a few moments ago, there was no sign of recognition. Thank God. He didn’t want her to remember the flabby-freak-with-no-friends he’d been. Today, when she’d finally looked at him, she liked what she saw. Since he’d never expected to see an expression of admiration in Katie Price’s eyes, he liked that she liked him. And he didn’t care if he was acting like a hormone-riddled high schooler.
He’d come a long way since college. He was a criminal defense attorney now, and his services were available to whoever could pay his price. But he didn’t want to share that with her, either. It had given him the means to fix what was wrong with him on the outside, but lately he’d begun to wonder if the profession wasn’t creating new, worse flaws on the inside. Many of his clients had little or no decency, honesty, integrity or morality. His grandmother used to say people are a product of their environment. What did that make him?
Katie snapped her fingers. “Earth to Nate? You drifted off. Stay with me here.”
He shook his head, scattering the disturbing images—past and present. “Sorry. I have a bad habit of getting lost in my own thoughts. It’s trademark brainer geek. You may remember.”
Although he prayed she wouldn’t.
She tapped her lip. “I can’t picture you that way. In fact, I’m getting nothing from my memory banks.”
His banks were overflowing with recollections. And the woman before him still had the same thick, silky dark brown hair. She was small for a model; the top of her head came about to his shoulder. Always thin, the sleeveless blouse and ankle-length skirt she wore made her look more fragile than he remembered. And when she shifted her weight from her left leg to her right, he didn’t miss the wince—or the way she pressed a hand to the small of her back as if she was uncomfortable. He frowned. She didn’t want to talk about it. But he was interested in everything about her, including what had taken the sparkle from hazel eyes he remembered flashing with energy and life.
He might be having a crisis of conscience about being a defense attorney, but he was damn good at it. And he didn’t get where he was by refusing to ask the tough questions. He would find out about her—what she had done in the last ten years, and what she was doing now. But he would sit her down for the cross-examination.
He pointed down the path. “There’s a cozy little bench just around the bend. It could take a while for us to catch up and you’d be doing an old man a favor if you’d sit down with me.”
She hesitated a moment as she studied him. Finally she nodded and a small smile turned up the corners of her full lips as she said, “Old my eye.”
He released a long breath and realized how much he hadn’t wanted her to say no.
They walked slowly along the picturesque, landscaped cobblestone path. Manicured bushes and pink, purple and yellow flowers lined the way and swayed in the afternoon breeze. Stately old trees shaded them when they were settled on the bench, and he casually rested his arm along the back, his fingers just an inch from her shoulder.
“So you’re a lawyer?” she asked, shifting slightly away from him.
The question drew his gaze to hers. Did she remember something about him? Maybe something she’d seen on the news? But her look was curious, if a little guarded.
“What makes you think that?”
“It was the prelaw information that gave me a clue.”
“Oh,” he said sheepishly. He wasn’t normally such a dimwit. The power surge from being this close to her must be frying his brain. “Right. Yes. I’m a defense attorney.”
“Must be nice to set a goal and reach it,” she said wistfully.
“I suppose.”
He’d always wanted to go into law, although he hadn’t exactly followed the path he’d intended. But it wasn’t himself he wanted to talk about. The breeze stirred the leaves overhead and he watched the dappled shadows dance over the lovely curve of her cheek and jaw. The scarred side of her face was in shadow, but it didn’t matter. She was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
“Is your husband here with you?” he asked, fishing for information and hoping it didn’t look like it. He hadn’t felt this awkward around a woman in a very long time.
“That would be tough to pull off,” she said.
“Why’s that?”
“I’m not married.” She tilted her head to the side as she studied him. “What about you?”
“I’m not here with anyone, either.”
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
“I’d like to think personal interest made you nosy about my marital status.”
She shook her head. “You’re impossible.”
“So I’ve been told. And for the record, I’m not married.”
For just a second, she looked pleased, then her mask of cool unconcern was back. His fingers itched just to touch her, to make sure he wasn’t dreaming and she was really there. But he sensed some tension in her and put his self-control firmly in place.
“So, how does it feel being back at Saunders?” he asked.
She glanced around. “The town hasn’t changed much. Unlike Los Angeles, there are no palm trees. It’s all a little run-down, just the way I remember. Although I’m sure the university Web site only highlights the green rolling hills and tree-covered campus with lots of stately buildings.”
He laughed and nodded. “You nailed it, lady.”
“How about that? Being a lawyer, you’re the one who should have a way with words.”
If she only knew, he thought. “So you’re a model.”
“Was.” Absently she traced her cheek beneath the rim of the sunglasses covering half her face.
“Did you like it?”
She linked her fingers in her lap and he could almost see her knuckles turn white. “Yes. I was lucky. A girl like me with no particular skills would have difficulty making a good living otherwise.”
“Who says you have no skills?”
“Oh, you know. Judging people on the outside. ‘If she looks like that, she can’t possibly have a single intelligent thought.’”
“That’s ridiculous. I certainly never felt that way.”
“Then you were in the minority. And it’s not an issue any longer,” she said with a huge sigh.
In his job he learned to read body language—witnesses, 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.
