Second Time Around (19 page)

Forget the library; her mind was now officially in the gutter. She braked at a crosswalk to let a group of students pass, then decided to just pull over and devote her full attention to this conversation. Much safer for pedestrians everywhere. “Is that a good thing?”

“Definitely. So what are you up to?”

“I’m on campus, actually.”

His voice dropped to a husky murmur. “Want to meet me in Archivist’s Alley?”

Her hand tightened around the steering wheel. “Right now?”

He laughed again. “I’m kidding. I’m not
that
coarse.”

“Oh.” She licked her lips. “Right.”

“Besides, it’s probably glutted with students at this time of day. You know these damn kids. They think
they
invented rule breaking and rebellion.”

“Upstart whippersnappers.” She swallowed back a sigh. “Just as well. We’ve sullied the good name of the English department enough for one week.”

“True. We have to pace ourselves. I’d love to see you if you have time, though. My next class isn’t for another hour. Any chance I could talk you into meeting for coffee?”

Small talk and Sumatra versus full-contact snogging? Boooring.

Cait caught herself mid–eye roll.
Pull yourself together. You live for this crap: cerebral chitchat, critical analysis. … Ring any bells?

She wondered if Arden’s passing was the impetus for her overnight metamorphosis from sideline sitter to thrill seeker. If, maybe, on some level, all this frenzied passion was just a distraction so she wouldn’t have to feel the huge empty space left by Arden’s death.

Then her thoughts skittered away from grief and back toward the delicious possibility.
Time is a luxury
. And Cait was done wasting hers on pointless dithering.

“Coffee sounds wonderful,” she told Gavin. “As they say in all those Irish novels, I could murder a latte. I’ll swing by your office as soon as I finish my courier duties at the alumni affairs building.”

“Great. My office is on the second floor, down by the—”

“I remember.” Cait unzipped her bag and pulled out her travel brush and a tube of lipstick. “See you soon.”

Ten minutes later, she made the scene at the Thurwell College English department, ignoring the stares from impossibly
baby-faced underclassmen and inhaling that inimitable English department smell: floor wax and chalk dust laced with just a hint of cheap sherry.

“When did the lit crowd get so buxom and buff?” she asked when Gavin opened his office door. “It’s like the cast of
Gossip Girl
out there.”

He glanced out at the throngs of students, oblivious to the flurry of hair fluffing and hem hiking this set off among some of the young women. “Looks pretty much the same as when you and your partners in crime were students.”

“No way.” Cait shook her head. “We were much dorkier. When I was a freshman, we didn’t have online shopping or Joe’s Jeans or cell phones with texting capabilities. We had to make do with whatever we could scrounge from the J.Crew catalog and the Pine Street shops. One year, we all wore those truly unfortunate velvet chokers—”

“Uphill both ways in the snow,” he finished for her.

“Exactly.”

She stepped into his office and produced one of the ladyfingers she’d pilfered from Anna’s bakery box. “Oh, here, I brought you something. Boudoir biscuits.”

His eyebrows shot up.

“It’s not as naughty as it sounds. Just glorified sponge cake. I thought we could share a little snack.”

“No snacks.” He shook his head, resolute. “This time we are going to go out in public, as planned. Like regular people on a regular date.”

“Regular people?”

“That’s right.” He ran his fingers through his thick brown hair. “No more getting sidetracked with basement shenanigans.”

“That’s very sweet.” She smiled. “But for the record, I thoroughly enjoyed our basement shenanigans.”

“Yeah, but …” A tiny muscle flexed at the corner of his jawline. “I realize this sounds unbelievably cheesy, but you deserve to be courted. Wooed. Whatever.”

Her smile turned from flirtatious to flustered. This was something she had never experienced with Charles or her other ex-boyfriends. She’d become adept at figuring out who they’d needed her to be and then cultivating the requisite qualities.

“The problem is, we seem to have a lot of …” Gavin paused for a moment, his expression pensive. “Chemistry.”

She took a bite of pastry. “Agreed.”

“And watching you nibble on something called a boudoir biscuit isn’t helping.”

“I’m ravenous.” She glanced up at him through lowered eyelashes. “A girl’s gotta eat.”

“So we’re going for coffee.” He reached for the jacket hung on the back of his chair. “No shenanigans.”

They almost made it. He had one hand on the doorknob when she raised her arms to put on her coat, revealing a thin strip of flannel peeking out above the waistline of her jeans.

He stopped in his tracks. “Are you wearing boxer shorts?”

“Yeah.” Cait hastily tugged down her sweater. “I was in a hurry to get out of the house this morning. It’s this stupid superstitious thing I do when I write. I swear I’m not always this frumpy. Erase the image from your mind.”

“Hell no.” He was still staring. “It’s hot.”

Two seconds later, the office door was locked and they were both pressed up against the bookshelf, kissing and groping and tearing off their clothes.

“We’re supposed to be on a regular date,” he murmured
into her open mouth. “I’m supposed to be wooing you, damn it.”

“Congratulations.” Buttons went flying as she wrestled with his shirt. “Consider me wooed.”

She caught his lower lip between her teeth and sucked gently. He yanked off her sweater and kissed his way down to her bra straps.

“I never do stuff like this,” he said.

“Me neither.” She arched her back.

This time, there were no interruptions, no second thoughts, and no turning back. They sank down to the carpet, exploring each other inch by inch, escaping together into senseless sensuality.

W
ell, that was …”

They lay absolutely still on the hard, scratchy carpet, staring up at the water-stained ceiling tiles. The sweat on their skin glistened in the sunlight pouring in through the window.

Cait rubbed her cheek against his chest. “Mmm.”

His breath came in short, raspy bursts. “There are no words.”

“That’s what you say now.” She trailed her index finger along the thin line of hair that started at his navel. “You know you’re going to write an epic poem about this later. Probably win a Pulitzer.”

He laughed. “I did have a few transcendental moments there.”

“Me, too. And bonus, no black eyes this time.” She winced as she shifted position. “Although I think I may have rug burn in some very delicate places.”

He clapped a hand over his eyes and groaned. “I’m the worst wooer ever.”

“Oh, I disagree.”

“I’m supposed to give a lecture about Jonathan Swift in twenty minutes. I have nothing to say about Jonathan Swift. My mind is a complete blank.”

“Here, have a boudoir biscuit.” She rousted herself just long enough to snag the baked goods from the desktop. “It’ll help you regain your strength.”

His eyes widened as he bit into the biscuit. “Did you make this?”

“No, I can barely make toast. My housemate is the culinary wizard. Anna McCauley, remember her? She was an English major, too.”

“She missed her calling.”

“She’s answering it now, actually.” Cait filled him in on the restaurant-renting endeavor. “She thinks she’s going to leave us after her catering career takes off, but she’ll never escape. We’re spoiled rotten now from all the cookies and cupcakes. We’ll lock her up in the attic if we have to, along with a rolling pin and a Viking oven.” As the word “lock” left her mouth, her thoughts returned to the mysterious steel padlock in Gavin’s hallway. She was trying to decide the best way to broach that topic when he brushed a strand of hair back from her forehead and asked, “So what are your long-term plans? Are you going back to Connecticut after your sabbatical’s over?”

She pulled back, letting more hair fall into her face. “Should we really be having this discussion while naked?”

“It doesn’t have to be a
discussion
,” he said. “No pop quiz, no essay portion. Just wondering.”

“Right. Well.” She fidgeted. “I haven’t really thought about it. I’m just trying to live in the moment for a change.”

“It’s the book,” he said knowingly. “Right now, you’re not thinking past the next chapter, right?”

She flinched at the mention of the book. “Pretty much.”

“How’s it going?”

“Um, good.”

“What’s it about?”

“Oh, you know, lots of things.” Cait gestured vaguely with both hands. “It’s very involved.”

“But what’s the main plotline?” he persisted. “The overarching theme?”

She located her sweater and pulled it over her head. “Don’t you have to get ready to teach?”

“Nah, I have my notes ready.”

A rap on the door startled them both. Gavin rocketed into a sitting position. Cait tucked her knees up under the hem of her sweater. They shared a look of pure panic.

Another knock at the door. “Gavin? Hey, G, you in there?”

Gavin paused midway through tugging on his pants. “Simon?”

“Yeah, man, it’s me.”
Pound, pound, pound
. “Open sesame.”

“Who’s Simon?” Cait hissed, praying that the student worker who’d interrupted them in Archivist’s Alley wasn’t about to ambush them again.

“The FedEx delivery guy,” Gavin whispered back.

She frowned. “You’re on a first-name basis with your FedEx guy?”

He shrugged and pulled on his shirt. “Small town.”

“Whatever. I’ll just wait over here.” Cait wedged herself into the nook between the bookcase and the wall, where she wouldn’t be visible from the doorway.

More knocking, even louder this time. “Gavin? Come on, I’ve got places to go and people to see.”

Gavin gave Cait a reassuring peck on the cheek, then cracked open the door just enough to converse with the guy in the hallway. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Got an overnighter for ya. Urgent.”

“Thanks.” Gavin cleared his throat. “You couldn’t leave it on my porch like usual?”

“Not this time.” The FedEx guy spoke in a gravelly drawl. “Signature required.”

“Gotcha. Well, thanks for coming all the way out to the office. See you soon.”

“Not too soon, I hope.” A conspiratorial chortle. “You better not wake me up at midnight again.”

“One time.” Gavin’s laugh sounded stilted. “That happened
once
.”

“Yeah: once at midnight, once at one a.m., and once at three in the morning. I had to drag my ass out of bed with bronchitis, remember? My wife was pissed.”

Cait forgot about staying out of view and craned her head toward the door to catch Gavin’s response.

But all he said was, “And I appreciate you going the extra mile, Simon. Bronchitis and all.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re lucky you’re a good tipper, man.”

“Speaking of which—” Gavin pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and handed over a few bills. “Next round of antibiotics is on me.”

“You rock, G. Keep it real.”

Cait pounced as soon as Gavin closed the office door. “What was that all about?”

He wouldn’t make eye contact with her. “What?”

“You and your long-lost brother there. You call him to pick up deliveries at three in the morning?”

“Oh, that.”

“Yeah, that.” She waited.

He shoved his hands into his pockets. “It’s a long story. Highly unusual circumstances.”

“I’ll bet.”

There was a long pause, during which he focused his attention on the ceiling, the bookcase, and finally, his watch. “I’m going to be late for class.” He stepped toward her, cupped her face in both his hands, and gave her a soft, lingering kiss. “You’re amazing, you’re beautiful, I can’t wait to see you again.”

“But—”

“Call you tonight.”

He slipped out into the hallway and closed the door with a gentle click, leaving her confused and totally exposed in more ways than one.

S
o that’s it? That’s all he said?” Jamie asked over dinner that night. Without anyone making a conscious effort to organize group meals, the four housemates had fallen into a rotation of cooking and cleanup. They ate dinner together almost every night and kept the common areas presentable, and each gave Brooke a generous weekly “rent check” to help defray the remodeling expenses.

“Yeah, and it was bizarre, because he’d just told me, literally two minutes prior, that he’d already prepped for class.” Caitlin picked up her fork and prodded her portion of Brooke’s homemade cornbread and chili.

“He’s up to something super shady,” Jamie declared.

“You don’t know that,” Anna said. “Being BFF with his FedEx guy isn’t exactly damning proof of wrongdoing.”

“Yeah, but who summons the FedEx guy in the middle of the night? Multiple times? And then there’s the locked door in his house.” Cait put down her fork and sighed.