High Energy (3 page)

intriguing ideas along the way. Much better than psychic healing classes. Of

course, I'm prejudiced."

The man was asking her to stay in the class. Physics… bor-r-ring. How was she

going to politely refuse this paragon in front of all these people? She decided

to hedge and give him a way out. "I don't know. It's a little… dry."

His eyes sparkled. She knew right then he was not going to take the bait.

"Dry? Now you've challenged me, Zanita. I'm going to show you how exciting it

can be."

He was talking about physics, wasn't he? By his expression, she wasn't so sure.

Well, she had given him his out and he chose not to take it. "Thanks a lot,

but—"

"No thanks necessary. The joy is in the teaching." His eyes danced as if they

held secrets he would be more than willing to share with her. He came up on the

same step and placed a warm hand at her back, gently but firmly urging her back

to her seat.

"It's like this: you blundered in here, now we're going to keep you. Right,

lads?" He addressed the class at large.

The class heartily concurred. Not that Zanita expected them to do anything else.

It was obvious that the sun rose and set on this man as far as they were

concerned.

Stan turned in his seat, grinning up at her. "You're stuck with us, Zanita."

She turned to look up at Tyber, who stood over her shoulder. He knew very well

he had cornered her.

He winked! Who was he to…

She suddenly remembered where she had heard his name before.

Tyberius Augustus Evans was a brilliant, renowned eccentric, who held thousands

of patents on various devices and was sought out by heads of state, scientists,

business corporations, research facilities—in short, by anyone who thought they

could get something from him. His explorations, which he conducted in the

privacy of his walled estate, took him down various paths of endeavor. From what

she remembered, some were sublime; some seemed to her sort of silly. But who was

she to judge? The general consensus was that everything he produced displayed

the rare genius he was known for.

What else could she recall? Ah, yes. He worked strictly by himself; in other

words, he did not owe his soul to the company store. He guarded his privacy, and

he never, never, gave an interview.

She smiled slowly at him. Random element, indeed.

The information she needed on psychic healing she could pick up elsewhere. She

still fully intended to investigate Xavier LaLeche, but a class on psychic

healing wasn't anywhere near as important as the possibility of gaining an

interview with this man.

In a lightning display of deductive reasoning that would have fascinated Tyber

had he been aware of it, Zanita calculated her chances. There was no real

decision to make.

"I'll stay." The class applauded, but she barely noticed. Her sights were on

Tyberius Augustus Evans.

Tyber narrowed his eyes slightly as he studied the woman in front of him. She

had the look of his cat. Yes, when the cat was about to do something very

cunning.

Tyber smiled to himself. He always loved a mystery.

He knew exactly what to do next.

The first step was to test the water. As she was taking her seat, he decided to

shake her up a bit. Just to get it rolling.

"I'm going to follow up on that idea of yours."

She looked up at him in horror. Had he seen through her already? "What idea?"

Her voice wavered.

"Vibration." He leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Energy." His warm breath

tickled the side of her neck. "Resonance…"

She swallowed nervously, refusing to look at him. It was uncomfortably obvious

to Zanita that for whatever reason, the man had taken up the challenge.

It was also obvious that he intended to enjoy it.

She sighed as her earlier conversation with Mills passed through her mind. Here

was the perfect justification for her convictions. Damn, but he had a

mischievous look on his handsome face.

Nothing was ever simple when a man was involved.

Boil them in oil.

Chapter Two

« ^ »

"That is why, in later years, Newton was responsible for sending several men to

their death on the gallows. We physicists don't get mad; we get even."

The class laughed appreciatively at what Zanita suspected was in-house humor.

"Those of you who know me," Tyber went on, "know that I'm not much for a

structured academic environment. What say we meet tomorrow night at Mickey D's

on Route Nine?"

"The playground?" someone yelled out from the back of the room, making everyone

laugh.

Tyber grinned. "Not a bad idea, but I'd hate to have to defend my place in line

at the slide—some of those kids are meaner than I am. I think inside should be

acceptable. How many of you can make it?" Almost the whole class raised their

hands. Zanita was a noticeable exception.

"That many. I don't think we should have too much of a problem, as it's after

the dinner hour. Okay, so tomorrow night—same time, different location." The

class applauded the lecture as they vacated their seats.

Tyber's icy eyes lit on Zanita. "Ms. Masterson. I wonder if I might have a few

words with you before you leave?"

Zanita, who had been slinging her bag over her shoulder, looked up in surprise

and nodded.

Tyber, having got her consent, turned to a colleague who was asking him a

question.

By the time Zanita made her way to the front, Dr. Evans was already surrounded

by a group of sycophants who were panting around him like starving academic

dogs—not that she wouldn't have liked to pant around him as well, but for

entirely different reasons.

She waited patiently toward the back of the small crowd for the intellectual

fallout to clear. After about fifteen minutes, Zanita started getting impatient,

as the adoring masses did not seem to be thinning out. She was weighing the

prospect of leaving against the slim chance of gaining an interview this evening

when Tyber glanced her way and skillfully called a halt to the chit-chat,

promising to continue the discussion tomorrow evening.

The room emptied so fast, you might have thought an air raid siren had gone off.

Of course, these guys would have gone toward ground zero, not away from it.

Zanita smiled to herself; it had certainly been an interesting evening.

Tyber folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the desk. "You

didn't like the class, did you?"

Zanita was surprised. "Why do you say that?" She thought she had managed to hide

her confusion very well.

"You didn't raise your hand when I asked who could make it tomorrow evening. And

there was that other thing…"

"What other thing?"

"The way you kept crossing your eyes whenever I drew an illustration on the

board."

Zanita cleared her throat. "All right, I'll admit I wasn't overly enthused, but

I did warn you." She threw her arms up. "Frankly, I had no idea what you were

talking about."

"So, just because you were lost in a fog you're not coming tomorrow? Really,

what kind of a reason is that? Most people go through their whole lives not

understanding a damn thing. In that context, what's a few evenings spent in my

lectures by comparison?"

His obtuse reasoning completely escaped her. She blinked. "What?"

"Tomorrow will be quite different—I promise. No mathematics of any kind. That's

why I suggested the restaurant; not having blackboards will keep it honest." His

smile was heart-stopping.

She decided then and there that nothing would keep her from going tomorrow

night—interview or not. What sane woman would forego the pleasure of discreetly

ogling him? Besides, whatever made him think she wouldn't come?

"I never said I wasn't coming. You assumed that because my hand didn't go up

when you expected it to. I had every intention of going; I just wasn't in the

mood to admit it."

Tyber stared at her, speechless. Again. When he did speak, his voice held a note

of awe. "You are completely non-linear, Zanita."

She waved her hand. "I have no idea what that means, but I suspect it has

something to do with the mysterious face of Mars looks I get—see? Like that one

you're wearing now."

"Fascinating," he muttered. "So, you are coming?"

"Yeah. See ya tomorrow night, Doc." She waved goodbye as she headed quickly up

the stairs, before Tyber had a chance to say another word.

It wasn't until she got to her car that she wondered why it mattered to him

whether she showed up or not.

"Mills, he is to die for."

Zanita plowed her fork into the carton of Chinese take-out she had brought over

to her friend's house.

"We are talking about the physicist, aren't we?" Mills asked around an eggroll.

"Somehow I can't quite picture—"

"Trust me. To Die For. Of course I can't figure out what he's talking about half

the time. I mean, you'd have to be a rocket scientist to understand—"

"He is a rocket scientist." Mills pointed out.

"Oh, yeah." Zanita shrugged."At any rate, this is the best assignment I've ever

had. If he would grant me an interview, just think—"

"He's not an assignment."

Zanita looked at her. "Well, no, not exactly…"

"What makes you think he'll give you an interview when he's turned down everyone

else? No offense, Zanita, but you're not exactly Edward R. Murrow, or even

Barbara Walters, or for that matter Yolanda Neade." Yolanda Neade was a ditsy

local newscaster on a non-network-affiliated television station. Mills wasn't

pulling any punches.

"This is true, but I have something they don't have."

Mills looked at her friend askance. "What, pray tell, is that?"

Zanita batted her eyelashes. "I am non-linear."

"Say what?"

"I have no idea, either, but Doc Evans seemed very interested in it."

Mills snorted. "Uh-huh. As Whoopi said, 'Girl, you in danger'."

Zanita grinned. "I wish. Believe me, the man is odd. Gorgeous, but odd. The most

I can hope for is an interview with him. And I would be more than satisfied with

that."

"Satisfied is the operative word here. Maybe he's the one."

Zanita swallowed a cashew. "The one what?"

"To befuddle you."

"Befuddle me as in make me crazy, roll around in the hay, knock my socks off,

befuddle?" Mills nodded lecherously. "Tyber? I don't think so. I mean, he does

have a body that won't quit, and he is sexy beyond words, but…"

"But?"

"He's… a kook."

Mills raised an eyebrow as if to say, When has this little aberration ever

stopped a hot-blooded man?

"No. No, believe me, you have this all wrong. I'm sure he would never notice me

in that way. He probably isn't interested in such base interactions, being so…

so intellectually lofty."

"Right."

"Seriously. He might see me as interesting in some bizarre way known only to

him." She thought of his expression and the tone of his voice when he had told

her he was going to follow up on her idea, whatever that had been. "But only

because he thinks he can teach me to understand what he's talking about."

Mills choked on her tea. "Zanita! I have no idea what you are saying! Do you?"

"Well, no. But don't blame me—it's Tyber's doing. No one could possibly

understand a thing he says." She sighed. "This is not going to be a piece of

cake."

As if her words were an omen, when she walked into the fast-food restaurant,

Tyber was wolfing down a piece of cake a little girl had handed him. He looked

up as she approached the tables where several men from the class, including

Stan, were eating hamburgers and fries.

The past twenty-four hours had, if anything, enhanced his appeal. He was just as

sexy as she remembered.

There was something about the man that invited touching.

His incredible pecs couched inside the soft cotton of his casual shirt, perhaps?

His strong column of toasty warm throat? The boyishly intriguing dimples in his

mischievous smile? The incredible intelligence behind his eyes?

It struck her anew how very different he was—not what one would expect at all.

"Hi. Want a sip?" He held out his chocolate shake to her. She eyed the drink

dubiously, remembering the pasty taste from her high school years all too well.

"No, thank you. Who's the kid?"

Tyber shrugged. "It's her birthday. She gave us all a piece of her cake. Whether

we wanted it or not." He winked at her. "Fortunately, I'm a sucker for

frosting." He licked a dollop off his finger.

It was an innocent gesture on his part, but for some reason Zanita couldn't take

her eyes off that tongue slowly swirling around the edge of his long,

beautifully tapered finger. The gesture so fascinated her that she stood

riveted, watching him.

"I did promise you I'd be honest tonight."

"Wh-what?" Her face rose guiltily to his.

"The lecture." His eyes sparked expressively in his incredibly handsome face. "I

think after tonight I'll have you hooked."

"Hooked?" She knew she sounded like a parroting idiot, but she couldn't get the

sight of that sensuously swirling tongue out of her mind. Why did he have to