Jameson had always worn a wedding ring, there had never been any evidence of a wife. All the students had speculated about the mysterious woman whom no one had ever seen. Some people had even wondered if a wife had really existed.
“How’s Scott doing? I haven’t talked to him lately.”
Suddenly she wanted to share her good news with someone who would care. She glanced around her, the press of people making a private conversation impossible. “I could use some fresh air. Care to join me for a walk?”
For a brief moment surprise widened his eyes before he said, “Sure.”
Cassie put her glass cup on a nearby table, then led the way toward the entrance. After Jameson opened the door for her, she stepped outside into the warm August evening, but the large live oaks dripping with Spanish moss offered a cool, private canopy over the stone path. She paused near some gardenia bushes. Their sweet, heavy fragrance laced the light breeze.
“Is something wrong with Scott?” Jameson came to her side, his expression etched with worry.
“Oh, no. I didn’t want to say anything inside, but I know you’re aware of Scott’s drinking problem. He has been sober for the past year. We went out to dinner the other night to celebrate his success.”
A smile lit Jameson’s face. “That’s wonderful news.”
“He owes you so much. Getting the job at the newspaper really helped him turn his life around after the accident. He wouldn’t have gotten it if you hadn’t contacted your friend there.”
“Scott landed the job on his own merit. I just gave him a reference. Your brother’s work was, is, excellent, and since he couldn’t play pro ball, what better job for him since he majored in journalism.”
Cassie glimpsed a stone bench nearby. “Do you want to sit?”
“No, let’s walk some. I’ve been sitting at the computer way too much lately.”
“I didn’t realize you held that many office hours.”
He started forward. “I’m working on a novel. I recently sold one.”
“Congratulations.” Cassie fell into step next to him on the path that led to the back of the inn. The sun brushed the tops of a line of pine trees on the west side of the property.
“Thanks. Since my wife’s death, I’ve had more time on my hands, and it was something I’ve always wanted to do.”
“Is this your first book?”
Jameson headed toward the small pond behind the inn. “Yes, well, my first work of fiction. I’ve written several academic books over the years.”
“Ah, yes. I remember you discussing one of them in class.”
“That was a long time ago.”
His voice sounded tired and matched a world-weary look in his eyes, prompting Cassie to peer at him as she stopped at the edge of the pond. “Twelve years. I was a sophomore the first time I took one of your classes. I believe that was your first year at the school.”
The blue of his eyes darkened, revealing a hint of vulnerability in his expression. He shifted away from her and stared at the ducks swimming in the water. A subtle tension hummed in the air.
“Dr. King?”
He blinked and focused on her face. “Sorry. I was just thinking about the past. And please call me Jameson. We’re no longer teacher and student.”
Weariness coated each of his words. She had a strong urge to comfort him but didn’t know how. He had always been such a private person.
Determined to interject some lightness into the conversation, Cassie said, “I was surprised you were here this evening. I’ve been back several times for functions at the college, but you’ve always been in hiding.” She would know because she’d always looked for him. “I guess now I know you’ve been madly composing the next American bestseller. Hemingway and Faulkner will have to move over for you.”
He chuckled, the dullness in his gaze vanishing. “Hardly. It’s a murder mystery. I hope a quick, entertaining read, but not a book anyone would proclaim a literary masterpiece. The truth is, I don’t usually come to many events at the college.”
“What made you this time?”
He looked long and deep into her eyes, his head tilted to the side. “You know, I’m not sure. I hadn’t planned on it this morning, but I sold my book and wanted to celebrate. This seemed like as good a place as any.” The corners of his mouth formed a grin. “I’ve seen quite a few former students at this fund-raiser. I have fond memories of your graduating class. Some of my best students were in it.”
Her pulse quickened. His gaze seared straight into her heart. “So our class was better than my brother’s?”
He laughed. “You can’t draw me into a family rivalry. I plead the Fifth.”
His husky laughter wrapped around her, its sound wonderful to hear. She suspected he hadn’t laughed much lately, since his wife’s death. She fixed an impish smile on her face and widened her eyes in mock innocence. “Oh, I’d never do that to my baby brother.”
“Yeah, sure. I have an older sister. I know a few things about sibling rivalry.”
That was one of the few personal pieces of information she knew about him. He had always been an enigma, which was what probably drew her to him. She loved to solve puzzles—in fact, did the crossword in the newspaper every morning before starting her day. “Interesting. An older sister. Any other deep, dark secrets you want to share?”
Secrets? Jameson scrambled to keep his countenance neutral. For a brief time he’d forgotten. Cassie had that effect on him.
He turned away, staring at two ducks herding their babies up the slope on the other side of the pond. “Don’t we all have secrets?”
“I’m an open book.” She waggled her finger at him. “And I see what you’re doing. You’re answering a question with a question.”
He forced a grin. “Must be the journalist in me.”
“Have you ever been a reporter?”
“While I was working on my doctorate—years ago. You would have been just a baby at the time,” he said, needing to add the last sentence to remind him of their age difference.
“Yes, that’s right. You’re ancient.” Cassie tapped her chin. “Let’s see. You’re what? Ten? Twelve years older than I am? Definitely ancient.”
He chuckled. “Okay, you’ve made your point. I’m not that much older than you in years.” He left unsaid how much older he felt in experience. There was an innocence about Cassie that she’d retained even after ten years in the real world. He yearned for that and realized he’d never been that way, even as a child.
“Well, I’m glad we’ve got that settled. The next thing I know they’ll refuse to let me vote.”
“Most women would love to be thought
