only thought that sustained him. But the longer she stood, statue
still, making no move to come to him, the more a feeling of despair grew. Several different scenarios coursed through his consciousness, few of them ending happily.
Don’t send me away, he begged her silently. Running an uneasy hand through his hair, he tried to smooth the rain dampened strands.
“Julianne.” He couldn’t disguise the tremor in his voice. She was
staring through him as if he were a ghost.
Before Gabriel could give voice to that idea, he heard something
approach. He turned in the direction of an approaching vehicle. Julia was still standing in the road.
He shouted to her wildly, “Julia, move!”
Frozen, she ignored his warning, and the car whipped past, nar-
rowly missing her. Gabriel began walking toward her, arms and hands waving.
“Julia, get out of the road. Now!”
Chapter 44
Julia’s eyes were shut tightly. She could hear noises and the distant hum of his voice, but she couldn’t make out any words. Droplets of rain fell on her bare arms and legs, and a solid chest pressed against her face as a warm, masculine body wrapped around her like a blanket.
She opened her eyes.
Gabriel’s handsome face was lined with worry, his eyes shimmer-
ing with hope. He placed a hesitant hand against the curve of her
cheek, brushing under her eye with the pad of his thumb.
For a few moments, at least, they said nothing.
“Are you all right?” he breathed.
She stared up at him, speechless.
“I didn’t mean to shock you. I came as soon as I could.”
His words broke through the haze that froze her. Julia wriggled
out of his grasp. “What are you doing here?”
He frowned. “I would have thought it was obvious.”
“Not to me.”
Gabriel huffed in frustration. “It’s July first. I came as soon as I could.”
Julia shook her head, taking a cautious step back. “What?”
His voice took on a conciliatory tone. “I wish I could have
returned earlier.”
Her expression said it all — the narrowed, suspicious eyes, the
ruby lips pressed tightly together, the clenched jaw.
“You knew I resigned. Surely you must have known I’d come back.”
Julia clutched her laptop to her chest. “Why would I think that?”
Sylvain Reynard
His eyes widened. For a moment, he was too stunned to speak.
“Did you think that I wouldn’t come back, even after I’d resigned?”
“That’s what a person tends to think when her lover flees the city without so much as a phone call. And sends her an impersonal email saying that it’s over.”
Gabriel’s expression hardened. “Sarcasm does not become you,
Julianne.”
“Lying does not become you, Professor.” Her eyes flashed.
He took a step toward her, then stopped. “So we’re back to that,
are we? Julianne and the Professor?”
“According to what you told the hearing officers, we never got past it. You’re the professor, I’m the student. You seduced and dumped
me. The hearing officers didn’t tell me if you said that you enjoyed it.”
He swore under his breath. “I sent you messages. You simply
chose not to believe them.”
“What messages? The telephone cal s you never made? The letters
you never wrote? Apart from that email, I’ve heard nothing from you since you called me Héloise. Absolutely nothing.
“And what about the messages I left you? Maybe you deleted them
without bothering to listen — just like you left without bothering to tell me. Do you know how humiliating that was? That the man who
was supposed to love me fled the city in order to break up with me?”
Gabriel pressed a hand to his forehead, as if to help his mind focus.
“What about the letter from Abelard to Héloise and the photograph
of our orchard? I put the book in your mailbox myself.”
“I didn’t know the textbook was from you. I only looked at it a
few minutes ago.”
“But I told you to read Abelard’s letter! I told you myself,” he
sputtered, a horrified expression on his face.
Julia clutched her laptop more tightly. “No, you said read my sixth letter. I did. You told me to choose a sweater because the weather had turned cold.” She eyed him furiously. “You were right.”
“I called you Héloise. Wasn’t it obvious?”
“It was crushingly obvious,” she snapped. “Héloise was seduced
and abandoned by her professor. Your message was crystal clear!”
“But the textbook…” he began. He searched her eyes. “The
photograph.”
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“I found it tonight when I was unpacking my books.” Her ex-
pression softened. “Before this, I thought you were telling me that you’d tired of me.”
“Forgive me,” he managed. His words were woefully inadequate,
but they came from the heart. “I…Julianne, I need to expl — ”
“We should go inside,” she interrupted, peering up at the windows
of her apartment.
He reached out to take her hand but thought better of it, letting
his arm drop to his side.
The thunder and lightning continued as they climbed the stairs.
By the time they entered the studio apartment, the lights had flickered and gone out.
“I wonder if it’s just this building,” Julia mused. “Or if it’s the whole street.”
Gabriel murmured his response, watching impotently as she felt
her way across the room. She pulled back the blinds to let in as much light as possible. Mount Auburn Street was dark.
“We could go somewhere with electricity.” His voice sounded at
her elbow, and she jumped.
“Sorry.” He placed a hand on her arm.
“I’d rather stay here.”
Gabriel resisted the urge to insist, realizing that he was in no position to demand that Julia do anything. He looked around the room.
“Do you have a flashlight or some candles?”
“Both, I think.” She found a flashlight and handed Gabriel a towel while she retreated to the bathroom to change into dry clothes. By the time she’d returned, he was seated on the futon, surrounded by a half-dozen tea lights, which were spread artfully on the furniture and across the floor.
Julia watched the shadows flicker on the wall behind him. Un-
earthly shapes seemed to hover around him, as if he were trapped in Dante’s Inferno. The lines on his forehead had deepened, it seemed, and his eyes appeared larger. He hadn’t shaved recently, the scruff of his beard covering the planes of his face. He’d smoothed his damp
hair back with his fingers, but a single curl had rebelled, clinging stubbornly to his forehead.
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Julia had forgotten how attractive he was. How, with just a glance or a word he could make her blood heat. He was as dangerous as
he was beautiful.
Gabriel reached out to pull her to sit next to him, but she curled into the opposite corner.
“I found a corkscrew and a bottle of wine. I hope you don’t mind.”
He handed her a glass that was half-full of an inexpensive Shiraz. She was surprised he’d bothered, for it was the kind of wine he would
have disdained in the past.
She took several long sips, savoring the wine on her tongue. She
waited for him to cough, sputter, and complain about the appalling bathwater. But he didn’t. In fact
, he didn’t drink at all. Instead, he stared at her, his eyes coming to rest unapologetically on the swell of her breasts.
“Are you changing schools?” His voice sounded husky.
“What?”
He gestured to her sweatshirt.
She looked down. Boston College.
“No, Paul gave this to me. He went there for his master’s,
remember?”
Gabriel stiffened. “I gave you a sweatshirt once,” he observed,
more to himself than to her.
Julia took another long sip of wine, wishing there was more of it.
He watched her drink, his eyes resting on her mouth and throat.
“Do you still have my Harvard sweatshirt?”
“Let’s talk about something else.”
He shifted uncomfortably but couldn’t drag his gaze away from
her. He longed to run his hands up and down her body and press
their mouths together. “What do you think about Boston University?”
She looked over at him warily. In response to her suspicion, the
bravado seemed to leak out of his gaze and he chewed at the edge
of his mouth.
“Katherine Picton told me to introduce myself to the Dante spe-
cialist in the Department of Romance Studies. But I haven’t gotten around to it. I’ve been busy.”
“Then I need to thank her.”
“Why?”
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He hesitated.
“I’m the new Dante specialist at Boston University.”
He searched her eyes for a reaction. But there wasn’t one. She sat very still, the candlelight flickering over her fine features.
He chuckled mirthlessly, pouring more wine into her glass. “That
isn’t the response I was hoping for.”
She muttered her annoyance, tasting the wine again. “So
you’re — here to stay?”
“That depends.” He looked at her sweatshirt significantly.
The heat of his gaze seemed to scorch her. She resisted the urge
to hide her breasts from him, keeping her arms at her sides.
“I’m a full professor now. Romance Studies doesn’t have a gradu-
ate program in Italian. The university wanted to be able to attract graduate students in Dante studies, so they cross-appointed me with Religion. They have a graduate program.”
He gazed at the shadows that surrounded them, shaking his head.
“Surprising, isn’t it? That a man who spent his life running from God should become a professor of Religion.”
“I’ve seen stranger things.”
“Yes,” Gabriel whispered, “I think you have. I would have resigned from Toronto sooner, but it would have caused a scandal. Once you’d graduated, I was free to accept the job here.”
Julia turned away, and Gabriel noticed the nakedness of her ear
lobes. She wasn’t wearing Grace’s earrings anymore. The thought
gutted him.
Her brow wrinkled as she contemplated what he’d just said.
“What’s so significant about July first?”
“Today is the day my contract in Toronto ends. It’s the day my
resignation takes effect.” He cleared his throat. “I read your emails and listened to your voice mails — all of them. But I hoped you’d
seen the book. I placed it in your mailbox myself.”
Julia was still processing his words. She wasn’t accepting his
excuses; she simply wasn’t arguing with him. At least, not yet.
“I’m sorry I missed your graduation.” He sipped a glass of water.
“Katherine sent me a few photographs.” He cleared his throat, hesitating. “You looked beautiful. You are beautiful.”
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He dug into his trouser pocket and produced his iPhone. Curi-
ous, she took it, setting her wine aside. As his wallpaper, Gabriel had a photograph of Julia in her graduation gown, shaking Katherine
Picton’s hand.
“From Katherine,” he explained, noting her confusion.
She scrolled through his photo album determinedly, her stom-
ach queasy. There were pictures from their trip to Italy and photos from Christmas, but Paulina was not to be found. There were no
compromising pictures of Gabriel, no images of other women. In
fact, almost al the pictures were of her, including a series of very provocative shots that he’d taken in Belize.
She was surprised. After being so convinced he wanted nothing
to do with her, the sight of his apparent regard was disorienting.
She returned his phone. “The picture that you used to keep on
your dresser, the one of us at Lobby, did you take it with you?”
His eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Yes. How did you know?”
Julia paused for a moment as the revelation sunk in. “I noticed
it was missing when I went looking for you.”
He reached out to take her hand but once again, she withdrew.
“When I went back to my condo, I saw your clothes. Why you
didn’t take them?”
“They weren’t really mine.”
Gabriel’s eyebrows knitted together. “Of course they were yours.
They still are, if you want them.”
She shook her head.
“Believe me, Julianne, I wanted you with me. The photograph
was a poor substitute.”
“You wanted me?”
Gabriel couldn’t help himself. He gently stroked the curve of
her cheek with his thumb, inwardly relieved that she didn’t flinch.
“I never stopped wanting you.”
She moved away, leaving his hand to touch only air. Her tone
grew harsh. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to be left by the person you love, not once, but twice?”
Gabriel pressed his lips together. “No, I don’t. Forgive me.”
He waited to see if she would answer him, but she didn’t.
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“So Paul gave you that sweatshirt.” He toyed with his glass. “How
is he?”
“He’s fine. Why do you care?”
“He’s my student.” Professor Emerson sounded prim.
“So was I, once,” she said bitterly. “You should email him. He
said he hasn’t heard from you.”
“So you’ve spoken with him?”
“Yes, Gabriel. I’ve spoken with him.”
Julia pulled her wet hair out of its ponytail, running her fingers delicately through the tangles.
Gabriel watched, entranced, as a cascade of dark, shiny strands
fell across her thin shoulders.
“My hair hurts,” she explained.
The corners of his mouth turned up in amusement. “I didn’t
know hair could hurt.”
He ran his fingers through her hair, and his expression changed
instantly to one of concern. “You could have been seriously injured, standing in the middle of the street.”
“I’m lucky I didn’t drop my laptop. It has all my research on it.”
“It’s my fault for surprising you. I’m sure I looked like a ghost, skulking about behind that tree.”
“I don’t think you’ve ever skulked a day in your life. And you
didn’t look like a ghost. You looked like something else.”
“Like what?”
Suddenly, Julia felt her skin flame.
He watched her cheeks take on the shade of pink he was most
familiar with. He ached to feel her blush beneath his fingers. But he was wary of pushing her.
She gestured vaguely. “Paul suggested I back up my files on a
flash drive, so if something happened to my computer I’d
still have everything. But I haven’t updated it recently.”
At the second mention of his former research assistant, Gabriel
suppressed a growl and the urge to mutter a favored expletive that involved copulating carnally with celestial creatures.
He turned to her. “I thought you’d expect me to get in touch
with you once you graduated.”
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“What if I did, Gabriel? Graduation came and went with no
word from you.”
“As I said, I had to wait until my resignation took effect. My
contract didn’t end until July first.”
“I don’t want to talk about that right now.”
“Why not?”
“Because I can’t say the things I need to say while you’re sitting on my futon.”
“I see,” he said slowly.
She shifted her feet, actively resisting the overwhelming urge
to throw herself into his arms and tell him that everything was fine.
Things between them weren’t fine. And she owed it to herself, if not to him, to be honest.
“I’ve taken up enough of your evening.” He sounded defeated.
He stood, glancing at the door, then back at Julia. “I understand
if you don’t want to talk to me. But I hope you’ll give me one more conversation before you say good-bye.”
Julia straightened her shoulders. “You didn’t say good-bye with
a conversation. You said it by fucking me against a door.”
He strode toward her quickly.
“Stop it. You know my opinion of that word. Never use it in reference to us again.”
Here was the old Professor Emerson, simmering beneath Gabriel’s
chastened exterior. He’d been soft with her, so she found his change in tone jarring. But she’d been exposed to his ill temper before and discovered, at that moment, that it didn’t really trouble her. So she ignored him and stood up, prepared to escort him out.
“Don’t forget this.” She picked up his cell phone.
“Thank you. Julianne, please — ”
“How’s Paulina?”
Her question hung in the air like an arrow, poised in flight.
“Why do you ask?”
“I’m wondering how often you saw her while you were gone.”
Gabriel placed his phone in his pocket. “I saw her once. I asked
for her forgiveness and wished her well.” His tone had the air of
finality.
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“Is that all?”
“Why don’t you just come out and ask the question, Julianne?”
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