Got Your Number (18 page)

"It's the crown," Angora insisted as she gave him a little finger-wave. "This is going to be fun."

"He thinks you're a teacher."

But from the glow on Angora's face, she definitely had plans for her virginity to die a quick death. Roxann bit her lower lip—she hoped the event would be all her cousin thought it would be. And that the lucky guy was of legal age.

Yellow banners on every lamppost announced Homecoming week and shouted, "Be there!" in frantic letters.

She was there, but feeling a little out of sorts. Didn't someone say you could never go home? South Bend was as close to home as she'd ever felt To realize that her four years here had been replaced by thousands of other footprints and term papers and first loves made her feel very insignificant. They walked higher and higher, where the foot traffic thinned and the fall leaves thickened.

"Will your sorority be doing something special for Homecoming?" she asked Angora.

She shrugged. "I suppose."

"You don't keep up with your sisters?"

Angora's face went odd, and she looked off in the distance. "I quit the DZs."

"I didn't know that Why?"

She shrugged again. "Some of the girls started being mean to me, calling me 'Church' because I wouldn't sleep with their creepy brothers. Tammy Paulen—" She stopped walking.

Roxann swung her head around. "What about Tammy Paulen?"

Angora seemed dazed.

"Angora, what about Tammy Paulen?"

"She... was the worst."

She wet her lips and spoke carefully. "I thought you said you didn't know Tammy very well."

"I didn't. I don't even think she knew my name."

"But she teased you?"

Angora nodded. "Her brother heard I was a virgin, and she... wanted to give me to him for his birthday."

Roxann's stomach convulsed. "That's sick."

"Well, she got hers, didn't she?"

A chill went through Roxann that had nothing to do with the breeze. "Angora—"

"Hey, is that who I think it is?" Angora pointed like a bird dog across the street.

Roxann followed her finger, and her heart vaulted. She hadn't realized it, but the path led them high above and opposite Carl's office building, leveling off in front of the humanities building for a splendid view through an opening in the trees the distance of a football field. Without knowing, Angora had led them to a perfect vantage point.

It was Carl, all right. Sitting on the steps of the building, munching a sandwich and reading a book in the sunshine. Still broad-shouldered and lean, he was wearing a soccer coaching jacket over chinos, T-shirt, and V-neck sweater. The sunlight picked up the silver in his hair, and the glare from his small wire-framed glasses. Years fell away, and Roxann's tongue was glued to the roof of her mouth. No man had affected her the way Carl had, not before and not since.

"I was thinking barbecue for lunch," Angora said, nodding to a concession stand below them on the street mere paces from where Carl sat.

"Sounds good," she murmured.

Concrete steps took them down to street level. Thank goodness there was a handrail for stability—the heeled boots were making her legs wobbly. Scenes about how she might approach him, and what he might say flashed through her mind, but suddenly they were on the sidewalk across the two-lane street and he looked at her. He stopped chewing and wiped his mouth, then squinted. She smiled, and when he set aside his book and lunch and stood, her heart lifted. She waved over passing cars. He removed his glasses, then jaywalked through slow-moving cars toward them.

"Roxann?" he said, jogging up to her. "Roxann, is that you?"

He was more handsome than ever, pale, pale blue eyes surrounded by black lashes. His eyebrows were jet black, thrown into relief against the silvery shock of hair that fell over his wide forehead. His chiseled nose and wide forehead were the same, along with his strong chin. And his smile—how could she have forgotten the gift of his incredible smile? It lit his entire face, and animated his body. That smile was the energy bank that he and people around him drew upon.

The sights and sounds around them receded. "Yes, Carl, it's me."

Chapter 14

"I hope your cousin doesn't mind that I stole you away," Carl said, holding open the door to his office.

"She said there were a few places on campus she wanted to visit," Roxann said, passing under his arm. She was assailed by that big-person-in-a-small-person-place feeling again. As if all the things around her were props, and Carl was the leading man on stage. Very surreal.

He stepped in, closed the door, and hung their coats on a hook on the back. When he turned, they simply stood and smiled at each other for a long moment, just as a script might call for. He was divine—longish silvery hair, flattering glasses, chiseled features, sparkling blue eyes, clean-shaven jaw.
Action.

"You haven't changed," he murmured. "Still so beautiful."

She blushed. "I have changed, but thank you."

"God, I've missed you." He clasped her shoulders. "Did you get my message about the award? Are you married? How long are you staying?"

She laughed, and he looked sheepish.

"Where are my manners? Please sit down. Would you like some coffee or tea?"

"No, thank you." She sat in the cane-bottomed chair he proffered, comforted by the clichéd clutter of books and papers in the crowded office. How many times had they worked here, shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee? "Yes, I received your message about the award, and while I'm flattered, I'll pass. That's why I didn't call you back."

"I understand."

"And no, I'm not married."

He smiled. "I never married, either."

She was certain her pleasure showed all over her face. "And I'm not sure how long we'll be here. We're staying at Dr. Oney's."

"Oh. I was hoping... " Then he shook his head. "Never mind. I guess that means you're still working with the women's advocacy program that Nell coordinated?"

She nodded. "Full-time. More or less."

He steepled his hands and struck a solemn pose. "I'm so proud of what you've done with your life—the youth of today just don't seem as interested in social responsibility."

She hooked her hands around her knee, compelled to move past polite platitudes. "I wish I could say I entered the program with pure intentions, but looking back, I think I was only killing time until I heard from you."

He did have the good grace to squirm before offering up a remorseful noise from his throat. "The board's inquiry came at an unfortunate time."

She nodded slowly. "I wonder how they knew about us."

He shrugged. "Someone must have told them, although it didn't seem important at the time to ask who—the damage was done. I assumed you had shared our relationship with another student."

Roxann bristled. "I didn't."

He didn't believe her, she could tell. "Well, it's neither here nor there."

An awkward silence fell, which Roxann stubbornly refused to break. She waited, for what she wasn't sure—perhaps a bended-knee apology for not having defended their nonsexual relationship?

"So... you're happy?" he inquired.

She nodded. "I haven't regretted the path my life has taken."

"I'm glad."

Roxann surveyed the numerous awards on his wall, including a shelf of soccer trophies. It struck her as a bit juvenile for anyone other than a ten-year-old or a professional athlete to display his trophies, but she wondered how much of her resentment came from the glaring proof that his life had gone on, seemingly un-fazed, after she left. "I see you've been successful."

He smiled. "Thank you."

They spoke at the same time.

"I saw—"

"—your photo—"

"—in the alumni—"

"—newsletter."

They both laughed.

"You've been on my mind ever since," he said. "I kept wondering where you were, what you were doing, how your life had turned out. When your name came up for the award, it gave me a chance to look you up."

"Who nominated me?"

His grin was sheepish. "I did. And Nell agreed wholeheartedly."

"So why didn't you look me up before?"

He gestured vaguely, seeming flustered. "I didn't think you'd want to hear from me."

"I didn't, for a while."

"And now?"

Good question. She was still drawn to him, no doubt, like a crippled moth to a flame. But could she ever forgive him for the furrow he'd plowed through her heart? "I'm not a naive coed anymore, Carl." Her voice sounded stronger than she felt—at least the coed part was true.

He left his chair to stand in front of her. "I can see that." He reached for her hands and pulled her up against him. His body was lean and firm, proof that he still followed a strict vegetarian diet and exercise regime. She remembered his penchant for nice cologne as she inhaled a complex aroma. He held her loosely and lowered his mouth to hers for a gentle, exploratory kiss.

Very... nice. Had his kisses always been so sweet? He really needed to change that flickering light bulb overhead. And when was the last time the crown moldings had been dusted?

A rap on the door sent them flying apart—that part came back to her pretty easily. Along with the guilty flush.

A beaming young redhead stood with her hand on the doorknob. "Dr. Seger—oh, I'm sorry." Her smile vanished, which did little to diminish her beauty. "I didn't realize you had a... visitor."

"Kelly," he boomed with a little laugh. "Do you have those papers you need for me to sign?"

"Yes," she said, staring at Roxann. "But I can bring them back later."

"I think that would be best," he said. "I'll see you in class."

"Okay. Bye."

When the door closed, he turned an apologetic smile in her direction. "I should know better than to leave the door unlocked—students just barge in whenever they please."

Roxann pressed her just-kissed lips together, thinking that any woman in Carl's life would have to learn to share him with the student body—professors were practically public domain. "Dr. Oney said you weren't teaching as many classes as you used to."

"That's right—although I'm doing more counseling and advising."

One-on-one with those lovely student bodies.
Immediately she felt contrite—Carl couldn't help it if the female students were infatuated with him. And she certainly couldn't blame the girls—that would be the pot calling the kettle black. "Well, I'd better let you get back to work," she said, suddenly anxious to escape and do some heavy thinking.

"When can I see you again?"

She smiled as she slipped into her coat. "I hear you're on the auction block tonight."

His face reddened. "I don't know how I got talked into that."

"Maybe I'll come and drum up your bids."

"That would make the evening tolerable."

"Except I don't have much cash," she warned with a laugh.

He pulled her into a loose hug. "You don't have to pay me to spend time with you. Let's have a romantic dinner tomorrow night at my place."

She hesitated, but only for effect. "Do you still live at the same address?"

He nodded. "Do you remember how to get there?"

"I think so." Although she'd only been there a couple of times for student cookouts—never alone with Carl. Too tempting.

"Meanwhile—" He kissed her lightly. "I'll see you tonight?"

"Yes," she said, feeling better. When she left the building, her step was lighter. The whole heebie-jeebie thing was just because she was accustomed to her association with Carl being furtive, clandestine. Almost delicate. The fact that they didn't have carnal knowledge of each other had made their relationship seem like the stuff that classic novels were made of—a bond that transcended a physical union. This
freedom
would take some getting used to.

"Roxann?"

She turned in the direction of the shout and balked at the woman jogging across the lawn, dodging students.
"Elise."
Since Elise had been a track star, she quelled the urge to make a run for it.

Her former roommate came to a bouncing stop in front of her, copper curls springing wildly about her elfin face. She wore spandex shorts and a sports bra with sweat stains. "I
thought
that was you. I didn't know you were coming up for Homecoming."

"It... was a last-minute decision. I'm staying with Dr. Oney for a few days." The woman's eyes were glassy, and her mouth loose—she was on something, probably one of those "performance enhancers" she bought from a guy named Sid who buzzed the Biloxi Y in a Firebird. "Elise, you dropped off the face of the earth—Tom is going crazy wondering where you are."

Elise started cracking her knuckles one at a time—a nervous habit that had always driven Roxann nuts. The woman's hands were enormous. "I just couldn't take it anymore, Roxann. Dealing with all those people, all those problems. I know I should call Tom. I will. I really will." Her gaze darted all around, and she was still cracking.

"Where are you living?" Roxann asked.

"In Biloxi, with a friend I met over the Internet."