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“I could. But my gut tells me that he’s going to dodge phone calls. I think being on site and in his face is the only way I’m going to get anywhere.”
“You may be right. This whole thing is weird and seems awfully cloak-and-dagger.”
“It does feel as if they’re trying to keep it quiet and railroad the professor without due process.”
“I did promise we’d do everything we can to help him,” she said. “And you promised you’d try to get Sandra Westport to drop her investigation,” she reminded him. She shook her head. “But two hours is a long drive. You might want to stay over.”
His thoughts exactly. He could almost thank that jerk Broadstreet and snoopy Sandra Westport for being collective pains in the backside. It gave him just the excuse he was looking for.
“Good idea.”
When the elevator doors opened on her floor, she looked up. “Thanks, Nate. You don’t have to walk me all the way. Goodbye.”
“My grandmother taught me always to see a lady to her door.”
“It’s really not necessary.”
He thought he’d gotten her past nerves, but obviously he’d been wrong. “Please, Katie—let me see you safely to your room. And I won’t take no for an answer.”
“Okay.” She walked quickly down the hall and stopped in front of Room 327. After sliding her key card into the slot, she waited for the blinking green light, then depressed the handle to open the door a crack. “Well, goodbye, Nate. It was good to see you again.”
Nervously, she stepped inside and started to close the door. He put his palm up to keep her from shutting it and a flicker of something that looked like fear flashed through her eyes. He dropped his hand. “Wait, Katie. There’s something I wanted to ask—”
“Yes?” She met his gaze and the pulse in her throat fluttered wildly. Was she uneasy around him? What had he done to make her so edgy?
“I’m alone.”
She looked up and down the hall. “Yeah. I sort of figured that out.”
“And you’re alone.”
“And you know this—how?”
“You told me so earlier—when we were sitting on the bench.”
“Right. I forgot,” she mumbled. “Do you remember everything?”
When it was as important as her marital status, he did. “I try.”
“So, what’s your point? I’m sure you have one.”
“I do.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “The thing is, I hate to eat alone.”
“Oh.”
She said it as if she hadn’t considered the possibility he would ask her to dinner. Definitely not a flirt. With his geek days behind him, aggressive women had been something he’d learned to deal with. He was out of practice with the reluctant kind.
“Would you have dinner with me?”
“I’m pretty tired,” she said. Funny, she didn’t even pretend to think about it.
“We could order room service. Your room or mine,” he suggested.
Instantly she tensed. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
He’d thought it an excellent idea. But the expression on her face backed up her statement. He remembered her looking like that the night she’d broken up with Ted Hawkins. Pale and shaken and afraid.
“Okay,” he said, unwilling to push. “We can talk tomorrow.”
“Maybe,” she said vaguely. “Goodbye, Nate.”
He frowned at the closed door. There was something very wrong with her and he couldn’t shake the feeling that Katie Price had scars on her soul even more harmful than the ones on her face. Which was why he was determined not to let her push him away.
He wouldn’t give up on her.
Chapter Three
Kathryn sat in one of the two chairs at the small circular table in front of her window and sipped her morning coffee. Her room had a view of the clock tower at Saunders University. The spire pushing through the thicket of trees was like a sentinel. Or a lone survivor. Like her.
She loved mornings and had felt that way even after the accident, when her life was nothing but a series of question marks. Would she survive? Would she walk again? Without a limp? Would she be scarred forever? Now she knew the answers: yes, yes, almost, and yes.
The miracle workers at the rehabilitation hospital had done their best to get her back on her feet and as close to her pre-accident appearance as possible. It had been months before she’d been pushed out of the rehab nest with a hearty “fly, be free.” And now her life was only a single question mark, but it was a doozy. Now what?
The summons from Professor Harrison had enabled her to put the answer aside. And she was relieved, which probably made her a coward. And she hated that she was. She hated being weak. But she was trying to face facts. And the fact was, she was glad to put off a decision about her future. Besides, she genuinely wanted to do what she could for the professor. She could manage to stay at the hotel for a few days and hope to meet with the board of directors to give her testimonial. Then, because her modeling career had come to a screeching halt, she had to figure out what she was going to be when she grew up.
For the moment, she was stuck in her room with no place to go, even if she wanted to. Which she didn’t. After yesterday, she had to conclude that she was very bad at slipping in and out of places unseen. Although the silver lining had been running into Nate. Just thinking his name turned the silver lining into a warm glow centered deep in her midsection.
For all the good it did her.
Yesterday she’d shut the poor man down faster than an airport on high alert. That was something the accident hadn’t changed. Once a social geek, always a social geek. What had happened in college just intensified the condition. Her agent had given her the lecture about career success depending on being seen and photographed with the right people if she wanted to make it to the top. That had been just before she’d hit life’s rock bottom. Her agent hadn’t dumped her, but then he didn’t have to. No one was calling with work for a face that looked like hers. She’d only had one offer and she’d turned it down.
So she’d never flexed her social muscles and on some level that had been a relief. But poor Nate. He’d been on the receiving end of her nerdiness and was probably out counting his lucky stars while doing the dance of joy that she’d saved him from himself.
A knock on her door startled her. She wasn’t expecting anyone.
She stood and walked over to look through the peephole. Surprise mixed with pleasure when she recognized Nate. She waited for uneasiness, and was a little amazed when it never came. Instead, she was grateful that he hadn’t washed his hands of her.
She removed the chain lock and opened the door. “Hello.”
“Good morning.” He studied her. “You look well rested.”
She winced inwardly even though his tone was nothing but friendly. But she knew he was needling her about the transparent way she’d turned down his invitation. And she deserved the teasing. The irony was that she liked him. Way to make him like her back, she thought. But she’d learned the hard way that familiarity breeds contempt. And it worked both ways. The more he learned about her, the more likely he’d be to leave her in the dust.
“I’m fine,” she said. “How are you?”
“Never better.” He grinned as he leaned a broad shoulder against the door frame and folded his arms across his chest.
Today he was casually dressed in jeans and a sport shirt with a very expensive logo on the front. He’d been pretty devastating in his suit and tie, but this look made her weak in the knees. And that was only one of the reasons she refused to invite him into her room.
“I don’t mean to sound blunt—”
“But?” he said. “And before you ask, no one starts out like that unless there’s a but coming.”
“But,” she said, struggling not to smile. “What are you doing here?”
“I believe we said we’d talk today.”
“Yes. But I thought you were just being nice.” With no intention of following through.
“So you think I’m that superficial?”
“I hardly know you well enough to judge. I’m just being realistic.”
“Realistic about judging me?” One eyebrow lifted. “Let me see if I’ve got this right. You don’t remember me, but you’re making judgments about what I will or won’t do.”
“You’re twisting this like a pretzel.”
“Twisting is such an ugly word.”
“But accurate,” she challenged.
“To be more precise, I’m clarifying.”
“I’m not going to debate with you. Obviously you’d win.”
“I like winning,” he admitted.
“So what are you here to talk about?”
He straightened and slid his fingertips into the pockets of his jeans. “I tracked down Sandra Westport and talked to her on the phone.”
“I see. Did you convince her to back off on Professor Harrison?”
He shook his head. “No, but I talked her into having lunch with me so I could do that.”
“Good luck.”
“I could use some. Not to mention backup,” he said, giving her a pointed look.
“Me?”
He nodded. “Yeah. She might feel less threatened if there was another woman present. I’d rather not look like the big bad bully.”
“I couldn’t,” she said automatically.
“True. No one would ever mistake you for a bully.”
“No. I meant I couldn’t possibly go with you.”
He shook his head. “Technically, that’s not true. I’ll drive. All you have to do is sit in the passenger seat. We meet Sandra at the restaurant, order food and eat. That’s exceedingly doable.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”
“Yeah.”
“Be serious, Nate.”
“I am. About needing some help.”
“Not mine. I’m probably the last person Sandra Westport wants to have lunch with.” Kathryn had turned down a request from the other woman, only a week or two ago. It was highly unlikely Nate would benefit by her presence at lunch.
“You’d really be doing me a big favor if you’d come along,” he insisted.
“What part of no don’t you understand?” she asked.
“The N and the O. I’m very fragile,” he teased.
There was nothing fragile about him, not in the way his shirt hugged his muscular biceps or the masculine way he filled out his jeans. But when she looked closer, for a split second, his eyes showed a hint of hurt. Then it was gone and she wasn’t sure she’d seen it at all. Just her imagination. She didn’t have the power to wound him. They didn’t know each other well enough. And why in the world would he even want to get to know her better when he could have his pick of perfect women? A man with his blow-in-my-ear-and-I’ll-follow-you-anywhere-good-looks would not be bothered by a rejection from someone who looked like her.
“Fragile my foot,” she blurted out. “This isn’t about you, Nate.”
“You think I don’t know that?” he asked, suddenly serious.
“No, I don’t think you do.”
“Then you’d be wrong. In spite of what you think, I’m not an insensitive jerk.”
“I don’t think that—”
“Obviously you do,” he interrupted. “In my own defense let me point out that I got it when you hid behind your sunglasses. I’m not so self-absorbed that I don’t get that you’ve been through something traumatic.”
“There’s no way you can understand what I’m feeling,” she retorted.
“There’s that jumping to conclusions thing again. How can you possibly know what I would or would not understand?”
“Come on. It’s not jumping to conclusions when the man looks like you.” She stared at him. “You belong in the sexiest lawyer section of People magazine’s sexiest man of the year issue. You couldn’t possibly know what it feels like to look in the mirror and know this is the best you’re ever going to look. You can’t understand what it feels like when people won’t look you in the eye because they see the scars and don’t know how to deal with it.”
He frowned. “This isn’t about other people. It’s about you, Katie. You can’t sit passively in a room. Life isn’t a spectator sport. It happens if you let it.”
“You’re preaching to the choir, Nate. No one knows better than me that life happens. It happened all over my face and it isn’t pretty.”
“Now who’s twisting words?”
“I’m just saying, until you’ve walked in my shoes, don’t presume to know how I feel.”
“And I’m saying things aren’t always the way they seem. Have you ever heard that beauty is in the eye of the beholder?”
“That’s baloney.”
