He was walking slowly back to the lab, sipping his coffee, when he felt the change in air pressure and the gust of air that accompanied the opening of the heavy front door.
In slow motion he turned around—and there was Meg. Blue eyes startled. Textbooks clutched to her chest Looking as unprepared as he was to meet unexpectedly. Time became fluid and the present turned into the past. So many things they hadn’t said. She looked different. She looked good. Her hair had grown. But...jeans and a T-shirt? Where were her designer duds?
“Hi.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Hi.” Self-conscious, Meg pushed her hair over her shoulder. She’d stopped ten feet away from Spencer and couldn’t seem to close the distance. She made herself keep her eyes on his face, keep the smile on hers. His youthful features had matured into sharp cheekbones and a strongly defined chin. Warm coloring, warm smile. His hair was shorter, but still wind-tossed.
He was real. Not a dream. Not a fantasy. Real as the flutter in her stomach. And she still wanted him.
“Come on to the lab,” he said.
She made her legs move, willing her heart to stop beating so furiously. She was on the verge of tears. Or hysterical laughter. Why did the moment have to be so fraught? Couldn’t they just say a big hello and give each other a hug for old time’s sake? Why did he look so serious? After all, he didn’t know about Davis. Oh, God He didn’t know about Davis.
And then they were at the door to the lab and he halted abruptly to let her go first. She ran into him, her cheek grazing the fine wool of his jacket. “Sorry.”
He put a hand out but stopped short of touching her. Meg shrank back. It was too awful. “I don’t think we can do this,” she blurted before she could stop herself.
“Yes, we can.” His dark eyes were the color of shadowed seawater reflecting fir trees. They sucked her into their depths. “You never did tell me why you’re finishing your degree only now.”
She wanted to tell him. The explanation was on the tip of her tongue. But seeing him made her even more confused than she’d been seven years ago. “Why didn’t you say goodbye?”
From inside the lab came a discreet cough.
Spencer pushed open the door. “Lee. This is Meg McKenzie, my...honors student. Meg, this is Lee. Research assistant.”
“Hi, Lee.”
Lee’s lidded glance flashed swiftly between them. “Okay if I leave now?” he said to Spencer. “I have to get to bookstore for my texts. I’ll be back tomorrow, bright and early.”
Spencer smiled. “Not too early. But yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“See you, Dr. Val..i—” He broke off, laughing at himself.
“Please, just call me Spencer.”
“Okay, Dr. Spencer.” Lee gave him a relieved grin. “See you later,” he added to Meg, and moved quickly past her.
“Bye.” Meg watched him go out the glass doors and run down the steps. Only when he’d disappeared from sight did she turn back to Spencer. Suddenly the hall seemed emptier, the two of them very much alone.
“You’ve grown your hair.” He reached out again and this time his fingertips touched a few strands of the thick ash-blond hair that hung almost to her waist. Static electricity raced from his fingers right to the roots, sending a shockwave tingling along her scalp.
“It’s easier than styling it,” she said lightly, backing away from his touch. In other words, cheaper. Her life had changed in so many ways. She had changed. Undoubtedly he had, too. She realized she’d been living with a fantasy image of him all these years. Maybe they had nothing left in common.
Except for Davis.
And the killer whales.
And the chemistry that still bubbled and fizzed between them like some apocalyptic experiment in a mad professor’s laboratory. Or was that all in her mind?
Spencer gestured for her to precede him into the lab. She stepped past him and found herself breathing deeply for the scent of the ocean that used to linger in his hair, on his skin. But she wasn’t close enough. And wouldn’t get close enough.
She moved farther into the lab, glancing around. She’d seen most of the equipment when she’d met with Dr. Campbell over the summer to talk about her honors thesis, but Spencer had added his possessions. Gravitating to the glass-fronted case where killer whale teeth and bones had been laid out on black felt, she said, “Are you staying out at the cottage?”
“Yes...” He paused as though about to say more. Then didn’t.
She bent to inspect the lower shelf, searching for the baby killer whale tooth she’d found while diving off Saltspring Island. It was no longer in his collection. Disappointment kept her gazing at the teeth longer than she wanted to.
“Would you like a coffee?” he asked, holding up his cup. “The taste hasn’t improved over the years, but it’s hot. Well, lukewarm, actually.”
Meg straightened, forced a smile. “No, thanks.”
He nodded and moved past her to his office, giving her a wide berth.
Why was he so wary? They’d been friends, after all. Like odd socks, but still a pair. Or had that night on Saltspring rendered null and void all that preceded it? They’d never had a chance to talk after that. They’d paddled back to Victoria the next morning ahead of a squall, locked in silence. If only she hadn’t said what she’d said, maybe his subsequent flight wouldn’t have been so swift. And maybe he wouldn’t now be acting as if nothing had ever happened between them.
“Have a seat.”
Meg sank into the safety of the padded vinyl visitor’s chair that nestled in front of the overflowing bookshelf. She just caught sight of one title, The Tao of Physics, when from the corner of her eye she saw Spencer’s lean denim-clad thigh glide by. And then he was sitting in his own chair, swirling around to face her. He leaned back, looking very casual. Or did that controlled stillness mean he was tense, not just intense, as he’d always been?
Under his dark suit jacket, which looked like Armani, but knowing Spencer was probably Salvation Army, he wore a white T-shirt and faded blue jeans. Then she noticed something new. A thin black leather cord around his sun-browned neck, the ends of which disappeared under the curve of white cotton. She remembered the smooth hard heat of the chest beneath...
“...killer whale communication,” he was saying. “I’ve been working with the transient population for the past five years, first in the Puget Sound area, then down around Monterey.”
Meg nodded, relaxing a little. “It’s interesting how few calls and whistles they make compared to resident killer whales.”
Spencer’s eyebrows rose. “You’re familiar with my research?”
“When I decided to finish my degree, I caught up on the literature.” She could see the unasked questions in his eyes and ignored them.
“Then you must also be aware of Deeke’s recent findings on intra-pod communication.”
She nodded. “They gave me an idea for my thesis...” She stopped. In spite of reading all the journal articles she could get her hands on, she still felt out of touch. What she’d been about to say might be completely off the wall.
“What is it?” He leaned back a little farther and crossed an ankle over the opposite knee.
“Well, I just wonder...what are they saying to each other?” Please don’t laugh at me.
Spencer