on the sidewalk: Ugg boots, business shoes, high-fashioned heels and Timberlands, just like the ones he wore.
With a flippant exhalation, he leaned back in his chair, stretching out his legs again, showcasing his boots as he ran a hand through his hair, leaving it sticking up.
“So, Spike,” she said, gesturing to his careless coif, “this is it, then? We’re just hanging out, getting heart-burn, oohing and aahing over noodles?”
“If you were eating anything, I’d be all for it.” He flashed another smile at her, and a slow beat of silence fluttered between them.
“What?” she asked, fidgeting, taking off her knit cap and adjusting her hair. It fell down to her shoulders in the usual tangle of dark curls.
“I’m just…” Ian leaned forward, lowering his voice. “I’m wondering about you, Rachel James. I can’t quite figure you out yet, and that’s pretty rare.”
“Do more research.” She smiled at the waitress who set the beverages and food on the table.
“Don’t worry, I’ll get to more than the basics about this whole story.” Ian dug into his meal as soon as the waitress left. Plastic fork halfway to his mouth, he said, “As far as you go, though, I know about Isaac, obviously. And your job and schedule, because I like to keep tabs on where my sources are when I need them.”
Wow, how heady, she thought as she downed most of her water. I’m his source, in spite of this incredibly intimate snack break and everything.
Not exactly a heart-pounding, fantasy-inducing revelation.
But it was better this way, business-only. Right?
While Ian stuffed noodles into his mouth, Rachel finished her water and began to sip her tea. It was thick and sweet, laden with cubes of ice.
Funny how they didn’t have much to talk about when he wasn’t trying to get a headline out of her. Was now a good time to get personal? Even at first sight, she’d wondered about the details of him: the way one ear was slightly higher than the other, the scuffs on his leather jacket, the been-there-done-that shade of his gaze. The occasional shadow that passed over his eyes during their interviews.
But…no. She didn’t have the gumption.
Instead, to cover the awkward pauses in conversation, she resorted to babbling, even though she’d made it clear that she didn’t want to talk about the hearings. But Gilbert was all they had in common, and it beat not talking at all, she supposed.
Still, in the back of her mind, she wondered if he was working his reporter mojo on her, even though her wariness didn’t stop her mouth from moving.
“So tell me,” she said, “when is that first article coming out?”
He washed down his food with the beer he’d ordered, then said, “My editor wants to start the series this coming Monday. It won’t be news so much as a column chronicling how the hearing affects the community. Each following installment will cover what happened the day before and—”
“And how the proceedings stir up the drama and mayhem with all the tawdry details. Jeez. That’s why I agreed to talk to you in the first place, Ian, because Gilbert doesn’t need theatrics. I’m doing damage control and trying to spread the good word about him.”
“Hey.” He set down his glass bottle. “I’ll be respectful of the situation.”
She considered the articles she’d recently seen in his paper and didn’t respond. He seemed to read her mind.
“Did it ever occur to you that, unlike the others, I’m not into the muckraking business?”
“Yes. But lately your paper is.”
A muscle in his jaw constricted. So did his fingers as they wrapped around the beer bottle. He seemed to be fighting himself about something. Those shadows in his gaze told her as much.
But just as soon as the emotion had appeared, it evaporated. He dug his fork into his noodles again, carefree as ever. “I report the facts as I see them, that’s all.”
“And how do you see them in this case?”
He paused, set down his fork, grinned. Yet this was no ordinary Beck-smile. No, this was partially feral, a twist on his charming act.
Rachel’s breath caught in her chest, but she still held his stare. She’d spent a lifetime backing down, backing away. And she was done with it.
Even so, she had the nagging feeling that, as soon as she left Ian, she’d go right back to hiding, ducking confrontation. Odd how she was empowered to stand up for herself only when she was around this particular guy. Somehow, he seemed to nonchalantly encourage her, bringing out what little strength she had.
In fact, it seemed that he rather enjoyed getting a rise out of her.
“I see it this way,” he said. “The administration believes that your Gilbert is ‘old fashioned’ and behind the times. They say he’s too much of a friend to the students, and would love to replace him with someone new.”
“Is that what you believe?”
“I don’t have the luxury of believing anything.” Ian rested his arms on the table, still dangerous. “As I said, I only report the facts.”
“You know those aren’t facts at all.”
“Who can be sure? That’s why there’s going to be a hearing tomorrow.”
“Hearing. Huh.” Even though things weren’t going smoothly with Gilbert right now, Rachel rose to the occasion, paying her mentor back for everything he’d done over the years, protecting him from the bottom of her heart. “It’s more like a witch hunt. Surely you’ve found that the administration has an agenda.”
For a spine-tingling moment, Ian’s gaze blasted into her. A hunter’s eyes.
Then he sat back again, apparently satisfied. “Smart man, that Gilbert, calling on the right people to defend him. All his favorite students from the past.”
“Not just ‘students,’ Ian. You’ve seen the list. Nate, our notorious defense lawyer. Kathryn, who was a model before that awful car accident. Jacob, an esteemed fertility specialist… Should I continue? Because I can.”
He took her bait, highly engaged by the fire he’d lit under her. “Please do.”
“An assistant to an ambassador— You know, it’s not going to be hard to show that Gilbert produced success in our own lives and for the world at large. The board is going to come off badly when we’re done with it….”
She stopped, suddenly aware that she wasn’t one of those successes she’d listed. She’d left Saunders during her junior year to marry Isaac, and it’d broken Gilbert’s heart. He’d bemoaned the education she was deserting, reminded her that she was just leaving before she could finish what she’d started. Truthfully, Rachel had suspected there’d been more to it than that. That her mentor had been grieving the loss of their relationship, knowing it would never be the same once she married and put Saunders behind.
Ian
