Blood Ties (5 page)

“Johnson is pretty easy,” one of them said. “No quizzes and the final is open book ... but I heard that Sanders is tough. Last spring he only gave out one A, half the class failed.” I heard a groan and someone muttered, “Time to switch classes …”

A female voice butted in. “OMG, you should see my art history professor, he is unbelievably gorgeous ... and so young. I don’t know what he’s doing in this God awful area of Canada.” She giggled. “I don’t think I’ll have any problem showing up for my 8:00 a.m. class this semester.”

Jen introduced me to her last night. I think her name was Addie.

“Did you see those gorgeous hands of his? Did anyone see a ring on his finger? I hope he’s not married ...,” Addie continued. Their voices faded into the background as I thought about this morning and his shock as he’d met my stare. Some of my earlier panic crept back but I shoved it back down. My imagination didn’t need any additional encouragement.

Chapter 4

I slid my finger over a curled paper stapled to the job board. “Assistantship … requires light typing, filing skills, organization and written proofing skills.” I mentally checked off each requirement. “Undergrad or graduate student may apply. Flexible hours, 15 hours a week.” It was one of only three notices. Good thing I had come when I had. I wasn’t going to let my grandma Ione pay for everything.

“How about this one Liz, it sounds easy. It’s a part-time position at the library.” I looked at the piece of paper where Jennifer had stuck her finger. The hours were at night, starting at
five. Not a chance, I wasn’t going to give up my runs to the ocean. For her benefit, I nodded and gave it a thoughtful look. I pulled a pen out of the zippered compartment on my backpack.

“I think I’ll try for this one
. It looks like it would work better with my schedule.” I wrote the Job ID on the palm of my hand.

“Hey Jen ... Liz.”

We turned around to see Parker from last night’s party. He was dressed in a black tank top and black 501s. His dark hair was coiffed into a tousled spiky look. Let it grow a few more inches and he’d look like Jen. Streak it purple and call it done.

He shuffled his backpack to his other shoulder, slowly, as if he
were purposely flexing his muscles. “There’s a group of us getting together Friday night for pizza at Remmy’s. Was wondering if you two would like to come along?”

Jen swayed into him and breathed, “Love to, what time?” I hid a smirk
behind a circular application of Cherry ChapStick. On our first night, she’d shared her impressive repertory of tried and true methods of getting the opposite sex’s full and rapt attention. I’d been amazed at the extent she went for a conquest. We’d planned our strategy, in reality, her attack on the campus. It was obvious. For the next four years, I was going to be living next to a soap opera.

“
Six o’clock.” They stood for a moment and gazed at each other. He flicked his eyes over my way, gracing me with his attention. He flashed a teasing smile. “Logan’s going to be there. He’s looking forward to seeing you Liz.”

He looked back at Jen. “I’ll see you around, don’t be late.” And with a quick smile and a touch on her arm, he left.

Jen watched him as he walked away, her focus on only one part of his anatomy. “No problem there. I will definitely be on time. You’re coming aren’t you?” She leaned over to watch that jean-clad package turn the corner. “I think Logan is very interested, you know. You two seemed to hit it off pretty well.”

Logan had dogged me all night. With his streaked blonde hair
, blue eyes and tanned to a golden glow, he was definitely a typical California boy by way of Toronto. I shrugged. “He seems nice. I think Parker’s pretty much smitten.” It was a good deflection; I had perfected it over the years.

She laughed. “You think?”

She followed me into the Administration Office. There was a long line at the financial aid counter and a longer one at the scheduling desk. I fidgeted with the loose strap on my backpack as we waited in line. I abruptly turned to Jen and whispered, “He’s attractive … and young.” I cleared my throat, embarrassed I had brought up the subject but couldn’t stop now. “You know ... Dr. Marcheon. I heard Addie and some others talk about him at the party. Just wondering if you’ve heard anything … you know, more?” I took a breath and held it, inwardly swearing at my obvious, more than casual interest.

She gave me a slow grin then leaned
in close. “Well, Addie, our resident Nancy Drew, did find out this is his second year here. He’s somewhat of a protégé in the art world.” She leaned in closer, almost mouthing her words. “Lots of moola, old family, owns most of the private reserves in the area … yada yada. I think she said he even has some reserves on Cape Breton. He’s a tree hugger, animal activist or something.”

She pulled a stray campus newspaper towards her.
The cover had a photo of a bear digging through garbage with a large headline, “Traveling Trash Bears-Free Recycling.”

“Get this,”
Jen said. “They’ve got bears tearing up campsites to the north of us.”

“Yeah, the Hunter-Gathers asked me to go camping, as I am now an
‘honorary’ member of their clan. They’re hoping a bear will run in front of my car.”

“
They’re so disgusting. I saw one skinned once. You can smell their stank from three hundred feet away.”

The clerk behind the desk interrupted
us. I held out my hand with the Job ID penned in ink. Jennifer slumped over the counter. “Yeah, I hear all the girls have a huge crush on him. Addie’s all excited. She was quick to check out his ring finger, and voilà, no ring.” She stuck her face in front of mine. “So, you’re interested?”

Heat flooded my face and I looked around to see who had heard just in case I felt the need for further embarrassment. The clerk smirked, still focused on his search,
clicking away on the keyboard. “No,” I replied calmly. “I just think he’s ... unusual.” My heart skipped a beat at my last words. The clerk gave me a couple open slots with a counselor. I picked one for early afternoon.

“Well, there’s no harm in trying. I hear he only teaches morning classes. Maybe you should check him out during office hours.” Her face lit up. “Just pretend you’r
e confused about the syllabus.”

I snorted. That would be the last thing I would do
. There’d be a long line of female students trying to get in to see him. Besides, didn’t they have rules about that stuff?

“Well, just the same. I‘d go for it if I were you. I heard he’s drop dead gorgeous. It can’t hurt to try. I mean, really, what’s he going to do? Flunk you?”

***

I had my interview with the counselor after lunch. She pulled up a schedule on her monitor. “Perfect timing, you should be able to catch Dr. Marcheon in his office. I’ll send you right over.” She picked up
the phone. It was a good thing she was looking at the screen in front of her and not at the expression on my face. I vaguely heard their conversation as I dealt with my shock. What were the odds of that? I quickly snapped my mouth shut before she set the receiver down.

“It’s settled then. He’s expecting you.” She smiled and stood up, giving me a warm handshake. “It was a pleasure meeting you Ms. Aldridge.”

I mumbled my thanks and stumbled out of her office. What was I going to say to him without sounding completely incoherent? I couldn’t very well cancel the interview now.

I walked in a daze towards the Fine Arts building, rehearsing answers to standard interview questions, muttering to myself as I walked along. When I found his office on the second floor, a sharp rush of adrenaline made me do a quick back
-away around the corridor. I leaned against the dingy wall, a white knuckled death grip on my backpack.

I found a water fountain and sucked away at the thin stream
, then with one fortifying breath, found my way back down the hall and stood in front of his door. It had a frosted window. I lifted my hand to knock.

“
Please come in,” he called out. I blinked a couple times, wondering if I had plowed up to his door like an elephant crashing through the Serengeti bush. I stepped in and stopped a few feet from the door. I planted my feet to keep from running back out. He sat behind a large desk with his back to me, looking out the open window. “You must be Miss Aldridge …,” his voice faltered. He stiffened as he turned to face me. A flash of something crossed his face.

I swallowed noisily, my heart beating a little faster. I tried not to stare and nervously played with the loose strap on my backpack. His presence filled the office. Everything around him seemed to dissolve into a blur of distant shapes.

He motioned to a chair in front of his desk and smiled warmly. “Please, have a seat. I understand you’re interested in the position as my assistant. Let’s start with you telling me a little about yourself?”

Up close and personal, he wasn’t at all what I
’d expected. He was pleasant, not overbearing or pompous. I reached down to fish for the red sloped square of a chair. I sat down and leaned back, trying not to hyperventilate like an idiot.

I went through my rehearsed answers, background, interests in the pre-modern art movement to finally, how my skills matched the position’s requirements. He had a way of making me feel relaxed, comfortable, prompting me to fill in perhaps a little too much information. By the time I’d answered all of his questions, the room had righted itself.

He gazed at me for a moment then gave me a gentle smile. “I think, Ms. Aldridge, you would fill this position superbly. The hours are flexible. Any thoughts on how this would fit in with your schedule?”

My God. He was offering me the position. My favorite dream of Michel started to play in my head. I’d gotten to the part where he had clasped his hands over my eyes when I realized
Dr. Marcheon was patiently waiting for an answer. I explained Monday, Wednesday, and Fridays after ten were wide open. It was settled then. I was to start next Monday after my classes. What was wrong with me? I could have said I’d think about it. I could have looked for a job off-campus. I had a car didn’t I? Why had I accepted so quickly?

I got up from the chair and stood awkwardly, waiting. He didn’t offer to shake
my hand. It was just as well, mine were ice cold. My gaze traveled down his face and I watched, completely entranced, as the corners of his mouth, ever so slowly, curled into a smile. They were beautiful – so perfect – so – kissable, just like –

He cleared his throat.

Oh my God, I was staring. I snapped my eyes away from those pouty lips and forced a quick smile. He said he looked forward to working with me and would see me on Monday. I mumbled mutual sentiments and concentrated on not tripping over my feet as I went for the door. As I turned to shut his door, he gave me a breathtaking smile.

I ran around the corner before anyone saw me. My head was screaming, my hands ice cold. I had lost my mind. I couldn’t
do it. Tomorrow I was going to call the counselor and tell her I couldn’t take the job with some made-up excuse. She wouldn’t have any trouble filling it. A thousand others would die to take my place.

The little voice in my head popped up. You are so full of shit.

Chapter 5

It was a perfect Monday morning, cold, wet and dreary. I ran through the rain, my backpack clutched over my head, dodging puddles and students bunched up under their umbrellas. Mine, with its bent rib and missing tip, had conveniently walk
ed off while I snoozed in statistics. Normally I’d say good riddance but the downpour had timed its deluge perfectly. A perfect start for the first day on the job.

I sloshed to his office and opened the door. He leaned back in his chair, the expression on his face, priceless. His lips twitched in what I could only call a down-
and-out fight not to laugh. He stood and came out from behind his desk. The sleeves of his blue shirt were rolled up, his arms and his red tie, loosened at the neck, hung in a long line down his broad chest just touching the top of his belt encircling a trim waist. Black dress pants, as neatly tailored as his shirt, clung to him in perfect lines.

I sucked in a shaky breath. Over the weekend I’d brainwashed myself into believing that working with him would be no big deal. It was going to be like any other job I’d had in high school – a demanding non-communicative boss with work seething in intense boredom. I felt better, but it didn’t stop the tremor of my hands and voice. If I were lucky, I wouldn’t have to talk much. Hands I could hide.

“Miss Aldridge, welcome. I’m glad you made it safely through the rain.” He motioned towards a coat rack. “You may hang your coat there.”

I ditched my jacket in one quick moment and stuck one hand in my front pocket. The other had a death grip on the strap of my backpack. I followed him to a grey metal desk pushed up against the wall to the right of the window. He reached out to touch the top of its metal surface. “I thought I’d start you on some light reading.” He smiled. “In preparation for some research I’m working on, of course.”