A Minute to Smile Page 7

  God help him.

  For if it had been only that allure, he might have indulged the wish. Few men, after all, could contemplate that ripeness without seriously considering seduction at some point or other.

  Tonight, he’d realized her effect upon him was deeper than the volatile chemistry between them. She intrigued him, made him laugh, took nothing too seriously.

  He’d also learned she was not comfortable with her sensual nature, at least where it concerned men. For that reason alone, if no other, he couldn’t run the risk of hurting her in an affair based on passion that would burn itself out eventually.

  Piwacket jumped from the bed to curl around Alexander’s feet, meowing in hopes of a midnight feeding. He glanced down distractedly as he considered the problem. No one with the exuberance she displayed should have to hide her true nature. It was practically a crime against nature.

  For it was Esther’s complete adoration of the moment at hand that made her so irresistible. Whether it was hugging the body of a child or watching a karate match or admiring a rose, the instant in time that she occupied received her complete and undivided attention. It was a rare quality.

  He smiled to himself, thinking how much his students would like her. Somehow, he would find a way to free the Esther within before she traveled on her way.

  There was danger in the task, a danger his dream of her had spelled out very clearly. The very power he sought to free might ensnare and wound him.

  But as if he’d already been bewitched, a ribbon of memory unfurled against the dark of his imagination, igniting sensual memories of Esther in the sweetly scented garden. On his tongue, he tasted her lips and satin skin. His hands burned with the feel of her hair. His ears reproduced her throaty sound of pleasure.

  Against the onslaught of such vivid memories, the danger seemed very small.

  * * *

  Tuesday morning, Abe minded the shop and her children while Esther went to class. It was a perfect solution in many ways, she thought. Abe needed to be out, to work and feel valuable, but his physical problems made it difficult for him to find work elsewhere. She was surprised she hadn’t thought of asking him to fill in for her before this.

  The class began at 10:30. Esther walked to the campus, steadfastly concentrating on the beauty of the early summer day rather than upon her upcoming encounter with Alexander.

  After much thought, she had come to the conclusion that she could only allow herself to be friends with him. Aside from her nagging sense that he was drawn to her for the healing he needed, there was something about him that unleashed the wanton side of her nature. No matter how tempting it was, she couldn’t afford to let her guard down so completely.

  The truth was, she was more than a little confused by the power of her response to him, and that seemed the best reason of all to keep the relationship purely platonic.

  There was no avoiding the fact that there would be some sort of relationship. She would be seeing him every Tuesday and Thursday for the next eight weeks, and besides that, she liked him. He was intelligent and clever and interesting, a puzzle she had been hankering to solve. There had been little enough of that in her life of late, and her friendship with Abe proved men and women could be simply friends.

  She found the classroom, high in a building facing the quadrangle. Alexander sat on the edge of a table, one foot swinging, the other bracing his weight. For an instant, Esther paused in the hall, waiting for her heart to stop its silly thudding.

  Most men dressed in a shirt and tie would look businesslike. Alexander didn’t even look properly professorial. Not even crisp cotton could completely hide the hard curves of his shoulders or the nip of his lean waist. His casual pose put one thigh against the fabric of his slacks and even from across the room she should see how hard it was, how beautifully muscled. His unruly dark hair had been painstakingly brushed away from the craggy face, but already the curls were springing into their natural disorder. She longed to go in there and tousle them back to freedom.

  A swelling tingle rushed through her. Maybe, she thought ruefully, she didn’t want to be friends with him after all.

  When he caught sight of her, standing uncertainly in the doorway, he straightened and gave her a great, welcoming smile. “Esther!” He extended a hand. “Come in.”

  “I’m a little early, I think,” she said.

  “Not much. The students will be wandering in any moment.”

  Esther nodded, disconcerted a little by his nearness. She could smell his cologne and imagined that the warmth of his body radiated outward to brush hers.

  “Nervous?” he asked.

  “About the class?” she asked, and then realized how incriminating that was. “No, not at all.”

  He chuckled. “It would be arrogant to assume it was myself that had you wringing your hands.”

  Esther finally looked at him. “Yes, it would be.” Ruefully she grinned. “It would also be true.” So much for playing it cool.

  “Have you forgiven me, then?”

  “Forgiven you?”

  He touched her cheek. “For nearly ravishing you in the garden when you were so innocently showing me your herbs.”

  Startled, she looked into his deep blue eyes and saw no censure there, only a teasing good humor. But it didn’t really matter what he thought. She carried enough censure for both of them. Seriously she said, “I think we should both just forget about that.”

  “You may, if you like,” he said, dropping his hand to his lap. “But I would rather not.”

  A pair of students appeared at the doorway, and behind them came three more. Within a few minutes the eleven students were assembled, chattering familiarly with one another. Esther looked them over curiously, seeing nothing particularly out of the ordinary about them. Not right away.

  But there was a preponderance of unironed cotton in their clothes. The girls wore little makeup and the boys seemed to favor longish haircuts. All in all, a serious, intellectual lot. Esther smiled to herself—these were the alternative radio addicts, the Greenpeace activists, the poets.

  “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,” Alexander said, hands comfortably in his pockets. “Are you ready for the dark side of the dark ages?”

  “You can do your best to convince us,” said the youth in the front row.

  Alexander flashed a twinkling eye toward Esther. “As you see, I’ve not undertaken the job without reinforcements. This is Esther Lucas and together we will endeavor to disabuse you radical romantics of your foolish notions.” He picked up a stack of papers. “Here is your syllabus and book list. While I pass it out, I want you all to introduce yourselves to Ms. Lucas. Don’t bother to announce your major. Only history majors would devote themselves to such a summer class.”

  “I’m Keith Martinez,” said the boy in front. “I think I remember you from the Renaissance fair.”

  “Yeah,” said another student derisively, “when the fair Keith got trounced.”

  “I remember,” Esther said with a grin. “My children were certain you took your swords and went to fight dragons.”

  Appreciative laughter met this comment and Esther felt the students warm toward her. They introduced themselves one at a time, teasing and chiding one another. By the time the introductions were completed, two groans had gone up, evidently over the syllabus.

  “None of that,” Alexander warned, but she could swear he was taking great pleasure in their complaints. “This is an upper-level seminar and the short span of time we have to meet requires a great commitment on your part. We have a lot of ground to cover.”

  Esther picked up the syllabus curiously. Three books were listed, but a parenthetical sentence said that they were all available in softcover editions. One research paper was required by midterm and the students would then present their findings to the others. Two exams. She raised her eyebrows.

  An attachment listed the topics available for the papers and presentations. As Esther scanned it, she grinned again. Dentistry was one
of the options. Hygiene and sewage was another, peasant homes and comforts yet another.

  As she read, Alexander was giving his class a general overview of what they could expect and what he expected in return. Dutifully the students took notes, their banter and play forgotten.

  He dismissed early and spent several minutes fielding questions and concerns afterward. Keith claimed the hygiene topic, a curious, triumphant smile on his lips.

  When they had gone, Alexander closed his book and looked at Esther. “Well, what do you think?”

  “I think I’d have avoided your classes, Professor.”

  He cocked his head. “No, you wouldn’t have. You were a good student.”

  “How do you know? Maybe I was a party girl.”

  “No. You’re smart and curious.” He stroked his beard, measuring her. “You were one of those patchwork students, I’ll wager—three A’s and three C’s every semester.”

  Esther blinked in surprise. “You’re good. How can you tell?”

  He raised that single, mocking eyebrow. “You threw yourself into anything that excited you and thus took the highest grade, but you also muddled through the less interesting classes.”

  “That was college,” she said, unable to prevent a grin. “In high school, I had either A’s or F’s.”

  He chuckled. “How did that go over at home?”

  “Not at all proper for the daughter of a colonel.” She laughed wickedly. “Even if he was retired by then.”

  “The daughter of a colonel?” he asked. “Are you really?”

  She sighed. “I really am.”

  “I had the impression that you and Abe had been friends for a great many years.”

  “We’re both Army brats. Spent our childhoods in Okinawa and Germany and Fort Bliss—everyone seemed to get transferred more or less together.” She sobered. “When Abe got back from Vietnam, he was sent to Fitzsimmons Hospital in Denver. My father retired in Colorado Springs.”

  “So that’s where you went to high school?”

  She grinned. “It was by design, I can tell you. My father hoped I’d fall in love with a cadet at the Air Force Academy and continue the family military history.” She realized she’d spilled out her entire childhood in a few short sentences and gave him a quizzical glance. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to get going like that.”

  His marble eyes danced with humor and a very male appreciation that flickered over her face boldly. “I don’t mind.”

  It was time, she realized, to tell him she’d decided they should be friends only. She extended her hand. “Thank you for including me in your class, Alexander. I think I’m going to enjoy it very much.”

  If she had expected hurt or bewilderment at the businesslike gesture, she was disappointed. He accepted her hand, his eyes twinkling, and before she could pull it away, lifted it to his lips. But it was to her upturned palm he pressed his sensual mouth. The moist warmth of his mobile lips sent a thrill racing over her nerves. “Alexander,” she protested quietly.

  He lifted his head, but held her hand firmly between his own. “I’ll make a bargain with you, Esther.”

  She waited.

  “If you will agree to give us the summer to get to know each other, I promise I won’t touch you.”

  Flushing, she protested, “It’s not that I don’t like touching you—”

  “It’s just a bit overwhelming.”

  “Yes. I have to think of my children and the greater scheme of my life…I don’t have the freedom to indulge in casual affairs.”

  “I understand.” He lowered his eyes, as if he needed to hide his thoughts, Esther realized suspiciously. When he raised them again, the color of the irises glowed a vivid turquoise. “I have avoided women since my wife died, Esther. Quite honestly,” he said, raising his eyebrows, “I didn’t think I’d ever want to get to know another woman.”

  “You don’t have to tell me all of this,” she said. “I’ll accept your bargain.”

  “But I want you to know what I’m really thinking before you agree. I’m not particularly interested in a platonic friendship with you.” He stepped closer, stroking her fingers. A wicked smile touched his mouth. “I’d much rather repeat the lovely episode in your garden.”

  Esther swallowed, feeling her heart skitter unevenly at the lure of his tall, broad-shouldered body. She ached to touch his beard and tousle his laboriously tamed curls into their natural disarray, to press her lips against the high, intelligent brow. Her fingers trembled and he tightened his grip as if to soothe her.

  “But I won’t until you’re ready.” His deep voice rumbled, somehow reassuring. “I’d hate to see you run away from me simply because of the chemistry between us.”

  “Okay,” she said in a subdued voice. Raising her eyes, she said more firmly, “I’ll agree to the bargain.” And then, because she couldn’t resist, she lifted her free hand to his face, half smiling as she did so.

  She forced herself to drop her hand and step away. He let her go. “But I will be serious about this bargain. I can’t afford some wild, passionate relationship.”

  He grinned. “Will you sometimes allow me to hold your hand?”

  “As long as you don’t kiss it.”

  “Deal.” He cocked his head toward the door. “Come let me buy you a cup of coffee in celebration.”

  She knew she should refuse, should go home and take over for Abe. That was an excuse. He was probably as happy as a pig in slop—his face had been beaming when he showed up this morning. “All right,” she said.

  * * *

  They went to a small café off campus, fairly empty at this post-breakfast, pre-lunch hour. Alexander ordered coffee from the waitress, and remembering Esther’s fondness for pastries, asked if she wanted one.

  She shook her head, smiling. “As much as Abe teases me, I can’t really afford to eat doughnuts whenever I feel like it. I love them, but only on Saturday mornings.” She did, however, stir sugar into her coffee.

  Overhead, a violin concerto played softly and Alexander, cheered by the way the morning had turned out, whistled along softly. “Bruch,” he commented, naming the composer. “One of my favorites.”

  Esther smiled, settling more comfortably in her chair. She wore again the filmy dress with its black slip below. The autumn colors provided a perfect backdrop for her glowing hair, left free this morning to tumble in soft abundance around her face. “What I know about classical music would fit on an index card.” With a teasing lift of her eyebrows, she admitted, “It was another thing my father thought I ought to know.”

  “Ah—so you cheated yourself to spite him. I’ll have to introduce you to some of my favorites.”

  “What makes you so sure I will like them?”

  “I can’t be sure.” He pursed his lips, smoothing his beard, then grinned. “Perhaps you won’t.”

  “Do you play something?”

  “No. In spite of all manner of lessons, I never seemed to be able to master anything.”

  She let go of a robust laugh. “Me, either.” Her dark eyes danced. “I took piano for three years, clarinet for two, flute for two.” She ticked them off on her fingers. “Oh, and I tried to teach myself guitar, but that didn’t work, either. I also had a hundred years of chorus.”

  “A hundred years?”

  “Seemed like it. They always forced me to be an alto and I wanted to sing soprano.”

  He chuckled, delighted with the picture of her as a girl that was emerging. “You were quite a little hellcat, weren’t you?”

  A pale wash of rosy color crept over her nearly translucent skin and he knew she must hate the easy visibility of her blushes. It made him smile to himself.

  “I know it must sound like that, but I wasn’t.” Her gaze flickered away, toward the street beyond the windows. “It’s just that life is too short to waste doing things you don’t enjoy.”

  A chill shot through Alexander’s chest. Her words burned away the hazy screen of his desire and he saw the situation with bru
tal clarity. He’d told himself he only wished to make love to her, but his thoughts this morning had been upon the woman she was within.

  You fool.

  Life is too short. The words belonged to Susan, his late wife. Even before leukemia had descended to suck life from her, she’d been adamant about that particular point: life is too short. After she’d died, he had often thought she must have known somehow that she wouldn’t have much time.

  “Alexander, are you all right?” Esther asked. “Did I say something wrong?”

  He shook his head slowly. “No.” He met her worried gaze and tried to smile. “Someone just walked over my grave, that’s all.”

  Although he could tell he hadn’t fooled her, she teased him. “If you want to think of me as a little hellcat of a teenager, I could tell you some stories that would support it.”

  He glanced at his watch, then realized how rude it seemed. “I just remembered an appointment I made. Can we continue this another day?”

  “Of course.”

  She frowned. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Yes, thank you.” He gestured toward the waitress for the check, feeling slightly ill at the sudden sense of despair that marred the beautiful day. “I’m sorry to rush off like this.”

  “It’s all right,” she said and touched his arm. “I’ll see you Thursday.”

  He nodded.

  * * *

  There was no appointment, a fact he was certain Esther also knew. In his office on campus a little later, Alexander stared out the multipaned window, feeling ashamed at his behavior.

  Throughout the year following his wife’s death, that sort of thing had happened often. He would be sitting quietly in the company of friends or enjoying a card game, and without warning, that bleak sense of despair would fall upon him with suffocating power. Overcome with a sense of helpless rage and sorrow, he would be forced to excuse himself in haste. Running either to the dojo or to the safety of his office, he would work until the mood passed. It sometimes took days, sometimes only a few hours.