Love Lessons Page 6

  She couldn’t have explained exactly why she was suddenly dissatisfied with her usual work-and-then-home-to-her-cat routine. She didn’t want to believe it had been her thirtieth birthday that had left her feeling that way. She was even less inclined to attribute this new restlessness to her encounters with Mike Clancy. But something had changed….

  She had begun to wear her new clothes and to pay more attention to her hair and makeup. Not to impress anyone in particular, she assured herself repeatedly. Simply to make herself feel better.

  Her coworkers seemed to notice something different, but no one said anything to her about it. Because she didn’t cut back on her work hours and was as visible as ever in the lab, they probably concluded that she had simply bought some new clothes for the changing season. That in itself was hardly fodder for gossip, even though a change in fashion style was rather unexpected from her.

  The graduate school where she taught and researched was part of a larger medical sciences campus that included a busy hospital facility. She didn’t often eat lunch in the bustling cafeteria, generally preferring to take her lunches and eat in her office, but sometimes she stopped into the cafeteria for a sandwich or a salad. She did so on a Tuesday afternoon late in October. She’d had nothing in her apartment to bring for lunch, and since it was after 1:00 p.m., she was hungry.

  The usual mix of hospital employees, medical, nursing, pharmacy and other graduate students and hospital visitors mingled through the large room, carrying trays and clattering flatware. Catherine stood in line for a chef’s salad, tossed a packet of low-fat dressing on her tray, then filled a plastic tumbler with ice and raspberry-flavored tea. A moment of weakness made her add a white-chocolate-chip and macadamia-nut cookie to the tray.

  Finding an empty table toward the back of the room, she slid into one of the four chairs grouped around it and arranged her lunch in front of her. She pulled a stapled sheaf of papers from the canvas bag she had carried over her shoulder. She scanned the introduction of the scientific journal article as she took the first bite of her salad.

  She had almost finished her lunch when a deep voice interrupted her reading. “Good afternoon, Catherine.”

  She glanced up at the man who had paused by her table to greet her. “Bill. I haven’t seen you around in a while. How have you been?”

  “Busy,” he replied with a matter-of-fact shrug. “Same as usual. And you?”

  “The same. Have you eaten?” she asked politely, waving a hand toward the empty chairs at her table.

  “Actually, I just finished. But I’ll join you for a moment, if you don’t mind.”

  “Please do.”

  “Just let me grab some coffee first. Would you like a cup?”

  “No, I’m good. Thanks.”

  She watched as he crossed the room to the coffee urns, then carried his steaming mug to the cashier to pay. Dr. William James was a pleasant-looking cardiologist of around forty, with clear gray eyes, a nose that was just a little too long and a smile that automatically set everyone around him at ease. His sandy hair was thinning at the temples, but he was still as trim and fit as a man in his early twenties, thanks to a healthy lifestyle and a well-known passion for running.

  Catherine had known him for almost a year, having met him through the course of a research project for which he had consulted with her several times. She had been able to assist him with the science behind his clinical study, and they had been on friendly terms ever since, though their encounters were rare.

  “So how have you been?” he asked after settling into a seat across the table from her. “Anything new and exciting in the immunology department these days?”

  Stashing her journal article in the messenger bag, she shook her head. “Not unless you count the incubator going out Monday and ruining several weeks of experiments.”

  He grimaced. “That sounds annoying.”

  “Very. Fortunately, nothing particularly important was lost, but equipment malfunctions are one of the more frustrating parts of research, especially when one just happens to be a ‘control freak,’ as I’ve been accused of on more than one occasion.”

  He smiled at her over the rim of his coffee cup as he took another sip. Smiling herself, Catherine swallowed the last of her cookie along with a final sip of her iced tea.

  “Catherine, would you like to attend a function with me this Thursday evening?”

  She almost choked on her tea in response to the out-of-the-blue invitation. Setting the tumbler down rather hastily, she said, “A, uh, function?”

  Nodding a bit ruefully, he explained. “It’s a retirement party for Angus McNulty. Do you know him?”

  “I know who he is—neurology, right? But I’ve never actually met him,” she added, after Bill nodded to confirm the identification.

  “Nice guy, though some think he’s a bit gruff. Anyway, I thought I was going to be out of town this week, but my trip was canceled at the last minute, so now I guess I have to make an appearance at this thing. It would be great if you could go with me, keep me company.”

  It was the first time since she had met him that Bill had shown any interest in going out with her. Nor had she even contemplated seeing him socially. She didn’t know why, exactly. She had known he was single—divorced, actually—and she certainly found him pleasant enough company.

  She knew Karen would urge her to accept his invitation. Even Julia would probably approve of Bill. Catherine couldn’t understand why she herself was taking so long to decide how to respond to his invitation.

  “Look, if you have other plans, I understand. I know it was short notice.”

  Making a quick decision, she shook her head. “I’d be delighted to attend the party with you.”

  Hadn’t she been telling herself that she needed to make some changes in her life? That she needed to get out of the predictable rut she had fallen into? Besides, this would give her a chance to wear that new red dress.

  Bill seemed pleased that she had accepted, though he probably wondered about the long pause that had preceded her answer. Even after they had made arrangements and gone back to their respective jobs, Catherine wondered if she should have come up with an excuse to politely decline his invitation.

  She wished she could work up a bit more enthusiasm for her first date in a pathetically long time.

  Chapter Five

  It had to be a strange quirk of fate that had Mike stepping out of the recently vacated apartment next to Catherine’s just as she reached her door late Tuesday afternoon. Toolbox in hand, he stopped with a smile.

  His dark-blond hair was mussed, tumbling onto his forehead and almost into his bright-blue eyes. He wore a gray T-shirt and soft-washed jeans with a hole in the right knee. The ultracasual garments fit his muscular body to perfection. And her pulse rate, which had been slow and steady when polished and professional Bill had asked her out, turned suddenly rapid and erratic.

  “Catherine. How are you?”

  “I’m very well, thank you,” she replied, grateful that her voice sounded normal, at least to her own ears.

  “I guess you’ve been busy at work. I haven’t seen you around lately.”

  “Yes, it’s been a bit hectic. You seem to be busy, too.” She nodded toward the toolbox.

  “I’ve been doing some repairs in this apartment so the painters can come in and get it ready for the new tenant. Not to mention that all the garbage disposals in the complex seem to be breaking at once. Had any trouble with yours?”

  “No, it’s working fine.”

  “Oh. Sorry to hear that.”

  He was smiling as he spoke, but the quip confused her a bit. Was he implying that he would have liked an excuse to visit her apartment again? She almost told him that he didn’t need an excuse to drop by anytime, but she swallowed the words for fear that they would sound too suggestive.

  “How’s your class going?” she asked instead, steering the conversation back into familiar territory.

  “I’m still not plan
ning a career in biological sciences, but I’m hanging in there. I’ve got a test Friday. I don’t suppose you’d be available to quiz me Thursday evening?” he asked hopefully. “I’ll spring for dinner.”

  She almost agreed immediately. At the last moment she remembered why she could not help him. “I’m sorry. I can’t on Thursday.”

  “No problem,” he assured her with a shrug of acceptance. “You have to work, huh?”

  “No, actually I have a date.” She wasn’t sure why she had told him that, but she suspected she wanted him to know that he wasn’t the only one with a social life.

  She couldn’t quite read the expression that briefly crossed his face. She hoped it wasn’t surprise, since that wouldn’t have been particularly flattering.

  “Oh. Well, I hope you have a great time. This is just a weekly quiz, and with the study tips you’ve already given me, I’m sure I’ll do fine.”

  “Maybe I could make some time—”

  Mike rested a hand on her arm, just beneath the hem of her three-quarter-sleeve knit top, and shook his head, smiling faintly. “I can handle it, Catherine. I think I was just looking for an excuse to spend another pleasant couple of hours with you and Norman.”

  She had read about it in novels. Had heard it described in songs. Had watched it happen in movies. But she had never experienced it herself. Had never even quite believed it was real, and not just a romantic fantasy. But now—with Mike’s hand on her bare arm and ripples of decidedly electric sensations running from that point of contact to somewhere deep inside her—now she believed that a simple touch could be so powerful.

  “Norman and I would enjoy that,” she said, and no one would have called her voice quite normal that time. There was a definite hoarse edge to it.

  Mike looked at his hand on her arm for several long beats. And then his eyes rose slowly to her face. “So would I.”

  They stood there just like that, looking into each other’s eyes for a few more moments. And then a door slammed somewhere below them, followed by a burst of laughter and conversation. The noise penetrated the silence that had fallen between them, causing them both to blink and move apart. Mike’s hand fell to his side.

  “I’d better go,” he said. “I have a class tonight.”

  “And I’m sure Norman is ready for his dinner.”

  “I’ll see you around, then.”

  “Yes. Good luck with your test.”

  “Thanks. I’ll, uh, let you know how it goes.”

  “Yes, do that.” Catherine turned abruptly and opened her door, stepping into the apartment before she could make a bigger fool of herself. What was it about Mike Clancy that turned her into such a blithering idiot?

  Mike had a good reason to be in the apartment next to Catherine’s Thursday evening, he assured himself. He had several minor repairs to complete before the painters and carpet layers came in to finish the apartment for its new occupant. He would have been working in that apartment even if he hadn’t known Catherine was going out with someone that evening.

  Whatever his reason for being in that place at that time, he walked out of the empty apartment just as Catherine and her escort stepped through her door on their way to the parking lot.

  Mike’s first thought was that the dude was too old for her. Too stuffy. Only then did he reluctantly concede that he looked like a nice guy with a friendly face and nice gray eyes. He supposed most people would think this man and Catherine made a very attractive couple.

  As for Catherine—she looked amazing. He had only seen her in casual clothing before. The red dress she wore this evening made his breath catch hard in his chest. It was cut into a scoop at the front, and the hem fell into little points that drew his eyes down to a pair of long, slender legs. Her narrow feet were encased in strappy sandals that revealed red-painted toenails.

  He found himself fighting a sudden urge to cover those pretty feet with their frivolously painted nails. Why couldn’t she have worn her usual sensible shoes?

  He thought she looked just a bit disconcerted upon seeing him there. And for some reason, that pleased him. “Hey, Catherine.”

  “Hi, Mike.”

  “How’s Norman?”

  She smiled. “He’s fine. Last I saw, he was curled up asleep in my briefcase.”

  As if she were suddenly aware of neglecting her manners, she turned to her companion with a slight start. “Oh. Mike Clancy, this is my friend Dr. Bill James.”

  A doctor. Of course. Mike stuck out his hand, which he was reasonably sure was clean enough for a handshake. “Nice to meet you.”

  To give him credit, the man in the ultraexpensive suit didn’t even hesitate to shake the hand of the guy in the tool belt and jeans. “It’s a pleasure,” he said, and looked as though he meant it.

  He seemed to be quite nice. There was no reason at all for Mike to dislike him. Except the fact that Dr. Bill had a hand on Catherine’s back and was obviously prepared to escort her down the stairs.

  “I’ll see you later, Catherine,” he said, making that a promise.

  She nodded. “See you, Mike.”

  He watched as they made their way down the stairs and to a dark, expensive sedan. He was still scowling after them when the sedan had left the parking lot, passing Mike’s mud-splattered pickup truck on the way out.

  Catherine had attended dozens of parties like this one. Medical and science professionals standing around drinking too much and talking shop. Speeches prefaced by lame jokes, and toasts that went on for too long. Food that disappeared at a rather astonishing rate. Cell phones chiming and cameras flashing and dishes clattering. And yet the atmosphere overall was restrained and dignified.

  Though he had claimed to dread the event, Bill seemed to be in his element. He worked the room like a pro, shaking hands, making jokes, exchanging bits of interdepartmental gossip. He and Catherine had several mutual acquaintances among the guests, and they introduced each other to the people only one of them knew.

  Catherine noticed a few looks of surprise at seeing them together, but the surprise was quickly followed by smiles of approval. Apparently she and Bill were being seen as a suitable couple.

  She liked him. He was amusing, courteous, attentive. She respected his work and admired what he had accomplished professionally. And yet, there was no electricity when he touched her. No little quivers that went down her spine when their eyes met. No schoolgirl urge to giggle when he smiled at her.

  It bothered her considerably that she was so acutely aware of those things.

  “These retirement parties are incredibly dull, aren’t they?” Bill asked her after a couple of hours, though he was still smiling from his recent exchange with the head of the Radiology Department.

  “I’m having a very nice time,” she assured him.

  He chuckled. “Diplomatically spoken.”

  “But true.” She glanced toward the busy exits. “Quite a few people seem to be leaving.”

  “Yes. Angus is likely to hang around telling old anecdotes for hours yet. We should probably make our escape before we’re the last ones here to listen to them.”

  A short while later, Catherine was strapped into the soft leather passenger’s seat of Bill’s luxury sedan. It was a beautiful car, and probably cost three times what she had paid for her economy compact. She made what she deemed to be a decent salary, though she chose to live rather frugally and bank a tidy amount for her future. Still, she was sure Bill earned considerably more than she did, and he didn’t seem to mind spending it.

  Catherine couldn’t care less what Bill was worth. Having always intended to support herself, whether or not she remained single, salary had never been a criterion for her when deciding who she should date. So, if the fancy car was meant to impress, it didn’t quite work that way with her.

  They talked about her work during the short drive to her apartment. Bill asked questions about her research and seemed genuinely interested in her answers. Since she was more accustomed to men getting glazed looks
of boredom on their faces when she talked about her work, that made a refreshing change.

  He turned the car into her parking lot and negotiated the turns toward her building. “That was the apartment maintenance guy I met earlier? Mike?”

  Her fingers tightened spasmodically around the purse in her lap. “Yes. Mike Clancy.”

  “Seems like a nice guy.”

  “Yes, he is.”

  “So you have a cat, huh? I didn’t see it when I picked you up.”

  “Norman’s a bit shy. He usually hides when the doorbell rings.” Except with Mike, of course, she remembered. Norman had taken to Mike immediately, and oddly seemed to know when Mike was the one on the other side of the door.

  “I see.”

  “Do you like cats?”

  Bill shrugged. “Sure. I guess. I’m not really much of an animal person. I prefer companions who can carry on a conversation with me.”

  Catherine thought of the many conversations she’d had with Norman. She kept those memories to herself, since she didn’t think Bill would understand. Mike, she suspected, would totally get it.

  And darn it, she was doing it again. Thinking about Mike while she was out with another man.

  Bill walked her to her door, then stood by while she stuck her key in the lock. She considered, then rejected asking him in for coffee. To be honest, she was ready for the evening to end, even though it wasn’t particularly late.

  “I have to be in the lab early tomorrow morning,” she said.

  He smiled faintly and nodded. “I have to get an early start myself. Thank you for going with me tonight. You made the evening much more enjoyable.”

  “Thank you for inviting me. I had a very nice time.”

  “Maybe we can do it again sometime?”

  Her smile felt too bright even to her. “Maybe we can.”

  “Okay. Good night, Catherine.”

  “Good night, Bill.” She turned and slipped inside her apartment, closing the door behind her.

  Norman peeked out of the bedroom door to make sure she was alone. Seeing that she was, he padded out of the bedroom and wound himself around her ankles, meowing.