Tiff hit pause on the rom com she’d been watching, leaving the couple on the screen almost but not quite kissing. “Good day? Did you get lots of research done?”
Zoe nodded. No need to tell Tiff she’d also done some more practical research.
Dropping her tote, she carefully placed the paper carrier holding the plant Gabe had bought her on the coffee table.
Her sister’s eyes brightened. “What did you bring back? Something deliciously French, by the gorgeous perfume.”
Zoe lifted the gardenia out of its bag. As she held the pretty blue pot and breathed in the sweet fragrance, her chest tightened. The scent was a reminder of what she needed to forget.
Gabe’s kindness, his caring, the warmth she’d felt when a smile lit his face.
Tears prickled her eyes. Gabe was a truly nice guy. But anything she felt for him couldn’t be real, just an artefact produced by the procedure. And anything he felt was the same. She needed to pull herself together and put him out of her mind, starting now.
Today had been an uncharacteristic interlude, that’s all.
Simply more proof of her theory.
Putting the plant down, her finger brushed the edge of one perfect creamy flower. Her finger tingled at the touch, just like when she touched Gabe’s hand.
“Oh, that’s lovely!” Tiff said. “Far nicer than cut flowers. It should last a long time.”
Maybe letting Gabe buy her flowers instead would have been a better idea. They’d die in a few days. By the time she put them out in the trash, she’d be over him, too.
Tiff handed her the apartment phone. “I don’t want to forget to tell you this. There was a phone message for you when I got in from my date with Mac. It sounded important, though she didn’t say who she was, so it might just be a spammy marketing call. Amazing how serious they manage to make those sound. And Louise PMed me on Facebook with some news. She said she messaged you a few days ago but you didn’t reply.”
Zoe grimaced. “Our dear school friend and her gossip is one of the reasons I don’t go on Facebook too often. I suppose I’d better know what she’s saying now. I’ll make the call first.” She took the phone and dialled for the voicemail message. “Did you guys have a nice evening?” she asked, while she waited.
Tiff nodded, and blushed. “A free night out. We walked along the river and stopped on all the bridges.”
Judging by the blush, she and Mac had probably kissed on every bridge. Tiff was the perfect example of a love addict. She tumbled in and out of love on a regular basis. Though this time things seemed to be lasting a little longer than usual.
The message started and Zoe held a finger to her lips.
She scrabbled for a pen and paper to write down the number, then glanced at the clock. After eleven. They said to phone anytime, there’d be someone there 24/7. Anxiety twinged her belly, though last time they’d had a message like this it was a window salesman.
“You’re right, it did sound important. I’d better call.” She dialled the number.
When it finally answered, the twinge in her tummy became a full fledged gnawing. “It’s the hospital,” she hissed at Tiff, after the person who answered said she’d get the nurse in charge. “Is Nick okay?”
Tiff’s mouth made a round O of surprise and her eyebrows flew up. “He’s fine. I’ve seen him since that message came in. He’s sleeping over at the homeless shelter tonight, the usual volunteer couldn’t make it.”
Someone picked up at the other end, and Zoe listened intently to what she said, barely able to take it in. As she hung up the phone, she slumped into the seat, numb and disbelieving.
“It’s Patrick. He’s had a major heart attack and he’s in hospital. He wanted me told, but they won’t let me visit him until Monday as I’m not his next of kin.”
“Your boss?” Tiff asked. “The professor you work with?”
Zoe nodded. “They implied that he’s recovering, thank the Lord. But poor Patrick, he’ll hate it. They’ll want him to give up his cheese, and his cigars.” She closed her eyes a moment to silently pray for him. And for herself. “This means I’ll have to take over teaching his classes. We’re stretched to the limit as it is.”
Tiff reached over to put a hand on her knee. “I’m so sorry. Louise’s gossip seems totally irrelevant, after that.”
Loosing a long sigh, Zoe shook her head. “Hit me with it. I’ll message her tomorrow, if only to stop her nagging.”
“I don’t know that you’ll welcome this news any more than the phone call.” Tiff leaned back in her seat, her face scrunched up. “She heard from Brad. Apparently his divorce is just about final. He asked after you. Wanted to know if you were still single. Louise seems to think you should rush back home to snap him up before someone else does.”
Zoe snorted, hiding the leap her heart gave at the news. When he married Maddie, she’d tried to stop feeling that way for him. But she hadn’t forgotten him. The lost love of her life, her biggest ‘what-if?’
It seemed he hadn’t forgotten her, either.
“I told her that would be your response. I said I’d tell you, but I didn‘t think you’d be interested, after the way he messed you around. You’re way too smart for that.”
No, Brad wasn’t getting a second chance. Though those ‘what-if’s started singing their siren song.
She squelched them, hard.
Dragging in a breath, she pulled her knees up in front of her, hugging them to her chest. He’d sworn undying love to her. Then he ended it, telling her he knew within an hour of meeting Maddie that she was ‘the one’.
The feelings he had for either of them clearly hadn’t been any more real than the emotions the experiment had created in her and Gabe.
No one could truly fall in love in an hour, or a day.
Mentally, she brushed her hands of the whole love thing. Hearing this was perfect timing. God’s way of telling her not to trust her emotions.
Work was what mattered.
“With Patrick off sick, I’ll be too busy to think about Brad,” she declared, silently adding, and Gabe, too. “Between his teaching load and my research, I won’t have a minute to waste on him.”
Though as she breathed in the sweet scent of Gabe’s gardenia, the research that had been her biggest focus this morning didn’t feel quite as important as it had.
All day Sunday, she kept herself busy. Between church and sending out the research questionnaires to her subjects, she didn’t have time to think of either man. Her problem was that Gabe stayed a nagging whisper at the very back of her mind that wouldn’t go away. The tingle in her tummy and flutter of her heart wouldn’t either.
Those, she could make herself ignore.
What she couldn’t ignore was her responsibility to contact him, to make sure he was okay. He wasn’t one of her research subjects, but she’d approached him while doing her research. She’d challenged a grieving, potentially vulnerable man to a process designed to create emotion. Ethics demanded she contact him, whether she wanted to or not.
Very last thing that night, she searched her bag for the ticket with his email address. The message she sent was carefully worded. Exactly the right amount of professional distance. He’d be on his flight home to Oregon now, she figured, but he’d see the message when he landed.
Maybe that irritating niggle would leave her alone now she’d done her duty.
Not expecting a reply, she didn’t check her email on Monday morning before rushing to the university. Covering Patrick’s lectures and the tutorial groups today would need a time machine.
As she signed in at the front desk of the psychology building, the head porter hurried over to speak to her.
“Miss Gallagher, did you hear about Professor Fowler? He’s in hospital, and off work for six weeks. A heart attack, right here in the hall, late on Friday. The ambulance crew said I saved his life.” Pride puffed out his chest like a pouter pigeon.
“Well done, Bob,” she said. He’d be disappointed if she
didn’t acknowledge his moment of glory, though her heart sank to hear she’d have to manage for six weeks without Patrick. “He sent me a message to let me know. I’m trying to figure out how I can cover his classes.”
“That’s the spirit, miss.” Bob nodded approvingly. “The Dean sent some new chap from Professor Blaiklock’s team over to help. He’s waiting in your office.”
Hoping the sub would be a help and not just make more work for her by needing to be told what to do all the time, she ran up the stairs.
Through the window of the door to the small office she normally had to herself, she saw a dark head bent over the desk opposite hers. Pinning on a welcoming smile, she pushed the door open, then stopped dead.
Gabe sat at the desk, doing something on the computer as if he belonged there.
She dropped her things on the floor as her chest tightened painfully. They weren’t supposed to ever meet again.
Patrick might not be the only one having a heart attack. One hand automatically went to smooth her windblown hair. The ridiculous wish she’d worn something prettier than the orange sweater, plaid skirt, and black boots Tiff called her ‘Velma from Scooby Doo outfit’ crossed her mind.
He looked up at her, did a double take, and blinked rapidly a few times.
Obviously, he hadn’t expected to see her, either.
That slow sweet smile of his spread across his face, and his eyes warmed in what looked a lot like delighted appreciation.
She fought down her instant response, uncomfortable flutters in her tummy, and a rush of warmth that flooded her.
He’d lied to her, or at best hadn’t told her the truth. She’d only done the procedure knowing they’d never see each other again.
Anger flared in her, hot and tight. He’d have to see it, in her clenched fists and rigid body.
Though if he did, it didn’t cool his goofy grin.
The idiot man seemed absurdly pleased to see her.
“Gabe. What a surprise to meet you here. I thought you said you were going back to Oregon.” Somehow, she kept the rage she felt out of her voice. It almost hit the ice cold, professional note she aimed for.
His grin faded a little, replaced with apology. “I’m sorry, Zoe. I never expected to meet you again so soon, either. I didn’t intend to mislead you. I am going home to Oregon. Once I finish my six months here.”
“You told me you were a teacher who’d done some psychology courses. You lied to me.” She didn’t try to keep the outrage out of her voice this time. She would never have challenged him to the procedure if she’d thought this could happen.
His forehead creased. “Zoe, I didn’t lie. I’m sorry you feel I did. I truly am a teacher. I teach psychology. I’m here to set up a new post-graduate counselling course for the clinical psychology department.”
She almost growled in frustration, itching to slap him or do something physical to express her fury. Her chest heaved like she’d run five miles. Scrabbling on her desk, she located the last issue of the psychology department newsletter, and found the staff announcements.
“Dr Gabriel Ross, PhD,” she read. His name was followed by an impressive string of publications. Her finger stabbed at him. “That’s you, right?”
He nodded. “I know Elizabeth Blaikstock. We’ve presented together at conferences as few times. She invited me to interview for the job.” He ducked his head, but not before she saw the grief in his eyes. “Mom encouraged me to apply. She knew she’d be gone by the time I had to start here. Pamela had ended things. I didn’t feel I had much reason not to.”
Zoe had to steel herself not to reach out to comfort him. No matter how he dressed it up, it still felt like he’d lied to her.
Shrugging, he lifted his head. “I promise you, if I’d known we might have to work together, I would have said something. I didn’t think we’d meet, even when you said you were staying in London. So are eight million other people. I thought you were a graduate student, in Europe on a few weeks’ vacation.”
“Near enough. I’ve applied for my PhD, but my old college can’t let me officially start until next year. They suggested I get a research assistant post in the meantime. So when my brother invited me to London for the holidays, I applied for the position here.” Her admission was grudging. She could see how he’d assume she was simply taking the opportunity to combine research and a vacation.
“So neither of us lied.” He grinned, too obviously trying to lighten the mood, and put his fingers to his temples. “Let me try to guess what you’re thinking. Of all the universities in all the towns in all the world, he walks into mine?”
As if her glasses were showing her a mirage, she pulled them down her nose and peered over them. Gabe still sat there smiling at her, and misquoting ‘Casablanca’.
She wasn’t sure she wanted the mood lightened. Planting her hands on her hips, she barely managed to swallow the urge to throw a tantrum and tell him he shouldn’t be here and it wasn’t fair.
Either that, or wrap her arms around him and kiss him.
The effort of controlling her conflicting reactions made her head spin. She dragged in a deep breath.
“A mind-reader, huh. The psychic department is somewhere else. This is the psychology department.”
She managed the weak joke to counter his, though a sour edge crept in. How she’d ever manage to work when every time she looked up Gabe sat there on the other side of her computer screen, she couldn’t begin to imagine.
The laughter faded from his eyes, and his mobile lips turned down. She couldn’t stop her hand raising to touch her own mouth, remembering those sweet lips brushing hers in the Gare du Nord.
Resisting her feelings for him at this close range felt almost impossible. But she’d have to steel herself. She couldn’t allow herself to tumble even further into love with Gabe. That would be the craziest, most irrational, recipe for heartbreak possible.
This wasn’t Paris. She had no excuse for her feelings here in her impersonal London office.
Business. Strictly business.
Forget Paris. They were in London, now.
She could do it.
She’d have to.
Chapter 8
Gabe wasn’t surprised that Zoe didn't look pleased to see him. After the initial bump his heart gave at seeing her, he wasn’t sure how he felt, either.
The email she’d sent last night read like she’d done it out of a sense of duty, nothing more. Cool and distant. She’d been so insistent that anything they felt for each other as a result of the procedure couldn’t be genuine.
He didn’t know what he thought about that.
He did know that the attraction he felt for her wouldn’t make for an easy working relationship.
No matter how hard he tried not to, his gaze drifted back to her. Her sweater hugged her curves sweetly, and the earthy orange tone made her skin glow. She added life and colour to the stark modern office simply by being there. Catching a trace of the sunshiny scent of her light perfume set his heart accelerating and made him smile.
The pathetic ‘Casablanca’ joke obviously hadn’t been his best idea ever. It just made her angrier. Though her comeback joke had been good.
“One point to you.” He made an imaginary mark in the air.
She rolled her eyes but didn’t smile.
Their day in Paris had been something special. Meeting her transformed what started as a sad and lonely day into something nearer a celebration. But part of what freed them to make it special had been the knowledge they wouldn’t see each other again.
And now here they were. Things weren’t so special now.
Somehow, they needed to be able to at least work together as colleagues. Just as God had them meet on Saturday for a reason, Gabe had to trust He’d brought them together again for a reason too.
He smiled, wanting to see her lovely face soften and warm the way it had in Paris.
“I’m sorry, Zoe,” he said, shaking his head. “I honestly didn’t try to hide the tr
uth from you. We both worked on a wrong set of assumptions.”
She only pursed her lips tighter, like this was all his fault.
He shook his head and shrugged his regret. “I didn’t deliberately deceive you, though I can see how it might feel that way. I flew from Paris to London last night. I do have things to sort out at home, a lot of things, but they have to wait.” Grief weighed on his shoulders like stones in a backpack. He gulped a breath, forcing his back to stay straight instead of drooping. “I’d agreed to take the job, and they already delayed the start date once for me. As soon as the funeral was over, I had to lock the door on the house and get on the plane.”
He hadn’t intended to try for sympathy, only tell her the truth, but it helped.
Zoe’s tightly crossed arms relaxed a little, and her rigid expression softened. Her lips twisted ruefully. “At least tell me there’s some other reason you’re here, that I’m wrong in thinking you’re Patrick’s replacement.”
He grimaced, spreading his hands in apology. “If Patrick is your professor, I’m afraid that’s exactly what I’m going to tell you. I arrived this morning, to hear that the Dean had ordered Elizabeth to send me here. She wasn’t impressed at losing me for six weeks. I’m to cover your professor’s workload until he comes back.”
She sat down fast, chin sunk to her chest. Then she straightened, lifting her head. “Then let’s hope Patrick makes a speedy recovery.” Her lips tightened in a noticeably fake smile. “It’s fine. We can work together. No reason at all we shouldn’t.” Her words sounded good, but her tone was more like someone trying to reassure themselves. “Whatever happened between us on Saturday was a product of the experiment. Nothing more.”
If that’s the way she wanted to play it….
He wasn’t convinced the effects of the Closeness Generating Procedure fully accounted for all he felt, but he nodded. “Right. Nothing more.”
Zoe didn’t look as happy as she should that he’d agreed with her. Something that almost looked like disappointment flashed in her eyes. Her lips twisted. Then she flattened her hands on the desk in front of her and gave a quick firm nod.
Forget Paris: Sweet and clean Christian romance in Paris and London (Love In Store Book 4) Page 6