Love Lessons

Mike couldn’t remember ever feeling so confident leaving a classroom after a test. It was almost as if Catherine had known exactly what his professor was going to ask and had drilled him specifically on those points. He had found himself thinking of her during the exam, hearing her voice explaining the concepts to him as he’d read the questions.

He wasn’t quite cocky enough to believe he’d aced the thing, but he was quite certain he had passed. He wouldn’t be at all surprised to have earned better than an average grade. It was a good feeling. And he had Catherine to thank for it.

He had to stop by the supermarket on his way home. He was out of sodas and frozen waffles, his usual breakfast staples. Impulse made him wander into the florist section while he was there.

Half an hour later he stood outside Catherine’s door, having a few second thoughts about being there at all. He didn’t want her to start thinking of him as a nuisance. Maybe he should just forget about this and…

Her door opened before he had a chance to decide whether to ring the bell. Catherine came very close to barreling straight into him before she stopped herself with a gasp of surprise.

“Oh. Mike,” she said, flustered. “I didn’t know you were here.”

“You’re on your way out,” he commented unnecessarily, suddenly awkward. “I won’t keep you. I just wanted to give you these. You know, as a thank-you for helping me with my studying.”

She looked a bit startled when he handed her the inexpensive bouquet of mixed blooms. Was it because she wasn’t accustomed to receiving flowers from her handyman? Was she wondering uncomfortably if there was more to the gesture than simple gratitude?

“It’s no big deal,” he said quickly when she tried to stammer a thank-you. “I was at the supermarket, feeling pretty good about my test, and I saw the flowers and thought I should do something to repay you for your help. Since you wouldn’t take any real pay, I mean.”

She had, in fact, quite firmly rebuffed his offer to pay her for her tutoring services.

Her smile seemed to dim just a bit, but her tone was sincere when she said, “I’m glad to hear the test went well. When will you know your grade?”

“The professor is going to post them on his Web site tomorrow. I really think I did well, Catherine. I wouldn’t be surprised if I got a B. High C at the lowest.”

She smiled up at him. “That’s very good news.”

She really did have pretty eyes. Such a rich, dark brown that he could see his own reflection in them. He lowered his gaze to her mouth. And found himself captured for a moment by the soft curve of her upper lip.

He cleared his throat, using the sound to bring his own wandering thoughts back on track. “I won’t keep you any longer,” he said. “I hope I didn’t cause you to be late.”

Wrinkling her nose a little, she shook her head. “I’m just headed for the lab. I’ve got an experiment going, and I’ll probably be there until after midnight.”

He was a bit surprised. “Don’t you have grad students to handle that sort of thing?”

She smiled again. “I’m only an associate professor, just two years out of my postdoctoral position. I have a grad student assigned to my lab, but she has her own research to do. We have a lab tech, but he can’t handle what I need to do tonight. So…it’s up to me.”

“How many hours a week do you work?”

She shrugged. “Anywhere from forty to eighty hours a week. Research isn’t a nine-to-five, five-day-a-week job. But it also gives me some flexibility with my work hours when I have appointments or errands to run or just need some time away from the lab.”

A hard worker, this one, he thought. Smart, focused, self-sufficient. He admired the heck out of her. And if he were perfectly honest with himself, he would admit that he was just a little intimidated by her. And that was a new experience for him.

“Well…” He took a step backward. “Don’t work too hard.”

“Thank you again for the flowers.”

He noticed that she had her nose buried in the bouquet when she turned away and closed the door. She seemed to really like the flowers. He was glad now that he had given in to his impulse to buy them.

“And I’ve put in almost seventy hours on that one case this week,” Julia announced.

Stabbing her fork into a grilled scallop, Catherine replied with the expected murmur of amazement. Yet she knew her friend wasn’t actually complaining. There was nothing Julia enjoyed more than a challenging legal case.

A burst of laughter from somewhere behind her interrupted their quiet conversation. It wasn’t the first time it had happened. “That group behind me is certainly enjoying the evening,” she commented without looking around.

“Looks like a birthday party or something,” Julia said, glancing past Catherine’s shoulder. “Big group.”

“Must be that redhead’s birthday,” Karen Kupperman remarked from the other side of the table. “Everyone seems to be looking at her.”

“They’d probably be doing that even if it wasn’t her birthday,” Julia replied matter-of-factly. “She’s gorgeous.”

“She is, isn’t she?” chubby, pleasantly plain, thirty-five-year-old Karen agreed without envy. “Love that blouse she’s wearing. I wonder if it comes in my size.”

Because her back was turned to the people in question, Catherine had nothing to add to the conversation. She took a bite of fish, savoring the light seasoning.

“Speaking of birthdays,” Karen went on as if it were a perfectly logical segue, “I’m sorry again I wasn’t here to help you celebrate yours, Catherine.”

“You had an excellent excuse.” Karen had just returned from her two-week trip to Europe, the long-overdue vacation following a science research conference. Catherine had already thanked Karen for the birthday gift and had seen the photos from the European trip.

Karen was obviously eager to talk more about her vacation. Catherine resigned herself to hearing several mildly amusing anecdotes again. She didn’t really mind, since she was pleased that Karen had enjoyed the trip so much. Still, it was yet another reminder that while Catherine had celebrated alone with her cat, other people had been having much more interesting adventures.

As if to underline that thought, another burst of laughter came from behind them.

Julia glanced that way again, then said to Karen, “Has Catherine told you about the maintenance guy she’s been seeing?”

Effectively distracted from her vacation reminiscences—which had probably been Julia’s intention—Karen turned to Catherine with a look that combined equal parts disbelief and intrigue. “No, this is the first I’ve heard of a maintenance guy. What is she talking about, Catherine?”

“She is being ridiculous,” Catherine replied with a chiding look at Julia. “I haven’t been ‘seeing’ anyone.”

“Mmm.” Julia’s expression betrayed her skepticism. “And the flowers he gave you yesterday?”

“Simply a thank-you for helping him study for his test,” Catherine retorted. She hoped her tart tone hid the ripple of pleasure that went through her at the mention of that bouquet. She never should have mentioned the flowers to Julia, of course, but it had been such a nice and completely unexpected gesture that she hadn’t been able to resist sharing it with her friend when Julia had called earlier to set the time for this dinner.

Karen lifted both eyebrows. “None of my students give me flowers for extra tutoring.”

“He isn’t a student,” Julia corrected. “He’s the maintenance man at her apartment complex. And, though I’ve never seen him, I’ve gotten the impression that he is very nice looking.”

“I barely know him,” Catherine said to Karen, who was still eyeing her in question. “He came to fix something in my apartment, and he happened to mention that he was having trouble studying for a college biology test. I offered to help him, and he spent a couple of hours at my apartment Saturday. He brought me a small bouquet yesterday as a way of thanking me because he believed he’d done well on the exam. End of story.”

Karen sighed. “Throw me a crumb here. Is he at least good-looking, as Julia suggested?”

Catherine hesitated, then gave Julia another look before conceding, “Well, yes. He’s very nice looking. Not that it matters, of course.”

Groaning, Karen waved a finger at her. “Have I taught you nothing? Of course it matters.”

Because Wayne Kupperman bore a distinct resemblance to the doughboy character on television commercials, Catherine knew Karen was only teasing about looks being important. She smiled obligingly.

“Still, a college student?” Karen shook her head. “I don’t think you’re quite reduced to cradle robbing.”

“It’s not like that. He’s gone back to school after several years away. He’s twenty-eight. Still a little younger than I am, but…” Realizing what she was saying, Catherine stopped with a sigh. “That doesn’t matter, either. There is absolutely nothing going on, Karen.”