Her emotional upheaval was only one of the changes that the catastrophic events of the past few days had produced. She’d arr
ived at Newberry on Friday morning, two days after their wedding, to find an army of reporters shouting questions at her and shoving microphones in her face. She’d pushed through the crowd and made a mad dash for her office, where Marie had met her with an awestruck look and an enormous stack of phone messages, including one from Cal.
She’d reached him at his home, but he cut off her questions with a snarl, then read her the press release his attorney had written. It stated that the two of them had been introduced by mutual friends several months ago, and that their decision to marry had been sudden. It listed her academic credentials and described his pride in her professional accomplishments, a sentiment he’d accompanied with a derisive snort. Then it announced that the couple would be spending the next few months honeymooning in Cal’s hometown of Salvation, North Carolina.
Jane had erupted. “That’s impossible! I have classes to teach, and I’m not going anywhere.”
His sneer carried over the phone line. “As of five o’clock today, you’re taking one of them—what do you call ’em?—a temporary leave of absence.”
“I certainly will not be.”
“Your college says different.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Ask your boss.” He slammed the phone down.
She’d immediately marched into the office of Dr. William Davenport, head of Newberry’s Physics Department, where she discovered Cal was giving the college a major endowment as a token of his appreciation for their flexibility regarding her work schedule in the upcoming months. She’d felt impotent and humiliated. With nothing more than the stroke of a pen over his checkbook, he’d taken control of her life.
The flight attendant stopped to pick up their glasses. As soon as the woman disappeared, she vented her smoldering resentment on Cal. “You had no right to interfere in my career.”
“Get off it, Professor. I bought you a few extra months vacation. You should be thanking me. If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t have all this free time to do research for that lab you work for.”
He knew far too much about her, and she didn’t like it. It was true that being temporarily relieved of her teaching schedule would benefit her research for Preeze, although she wasn’t going to admit that to him. Her computer equipment was already en route to North Carolina, and with the aid of a modem, the change in location wouldn’t affect her work. Under other circumstances, she would have been delighted with three months free time, but not when she hadn’t arranged for it herself, and not when she had to spend any part of it with Calvin Bonner.
“I could do my research a lot better in my office at home.”
“Not with a whole army of reporters camped out on your doorstep asking why the city’s most famous newlyweds are livin’ in two different states.” His eyes flicked over her as if she were debris. “I go to Salvation this time every year and stay until training camp starts in July. Maybe that giant brain of yours can come up with a convincing excuse for not bringing my brand-new bride along, but I can’t seem to think of anything.”
“I don’t understand how you can perpetrate a fraud like this on your family. Why don’t you just tell them the truth?”
“Because, unlike you, nobody in my family’s a good liar. It’d be all over town before long, and then the whole world would have the details. Do you really want the kid to grow up knowing how we met?”
She sighed. “No. And stop calling her ’the kid.’ ” Once again she wondered if the baby would be a boy or a girl. She hadn’t made up her mind whether she’d let them tell her after she’d had her ultrasound.
“Besides, my family’s been through enough in the past year, and I’m not puttin’ them through any more.”
She remembered Jodie mentioning the death of Cal’s sister-in-law and nephew. “I’m truly sorry about that. But whenever they see us together, they’ll know something’s wrong.”
“That’s not going to be a problem because you won’t be spending a lot of time with them. They’ll meet you, they’ll know who you are, but don’t plan on getting chummy. And one more thing. If anybody asks how old you are, don’t tell ’em you’re twenty-eight. If you get pressed, admit to twenty-five, but no older.”
What was going to happen when he found out she was thirty-four, not twenty-eight? “I’m not going to lie about my age.”
“I don’t see why not. You lied about everything else.”
She fought back another wave of guilt. “Nobody’s going to believe I’m twenty-five. I won’t do it.”
“Professor, I’d seriously advise you not to piss me off any more than you already have. And don’t you have contact lenses or something so you don’t have to wear those damned egghead glasses all the time?”
“They’re actually bifocals.” She took a certain pleasure in pointing that out.
“Bifocals!”
“The kind with an invisible line. There’s no correction at the top, but magnification at the bottom. A lot of middle-aged people wear them.”
Whatever unpleasant response Cal was about to make was cut off as a burly passenger struggling toward the coach section with two large carry-on bags banged one of them into his arm. She stared at the man in fascination. It was fifteen degrees outside, but he was wearing a nylon tank top, presumably so he could show off his muscles.
Cal noticed her interest in the man’s attire and gave her a calculated look. “Where I come from, we call those muscle tops wife-beater shirts.”