He shouted to her wildly, “Julia, move!”

Frozen, she ignored his warning, and the car whipped past, nar-

rowly missing her. Gabriel began walking toward her, arms and hands waving.

“Julia, get out of the road. Now!”

Chapter 44

Julia’s eyes were shut tightly. She could hear noises and the distant hum of his voice, but she couldn’t make out any words. Droplets of rain fell on her bare arms and legs, and a solid chest pressed against her face as a warm, masculine body wrapped around her like a blanket.

She opened her eyes.

Gabriel’s handsome face was lined with worry, his eyes shimmer-

ing with hope. He placed a hesitant hand against the curve of her

cheek, brushing under her eye with the pad of his thumb.

For a few moments, at least, they said nothing.

“Are you all right?” he breathed.

She stared up at him, speechless.

“I didn’t mean to shock you. I came as soon as I could.”

His words broke through the haze that froze her. Julia wriggled

out of his grasp. “What are you doing here?”

He frowned. “I would have thought it was obvious.”

“Not to me.”

Gabriel huffed in frustration. “It’s July first. I came as soon as I could.”

Julia shook her head, taking a cautious step back. “What?”

His voice took on a conciliatory tone. “I wish I could have

returned earlier.”

Her expression said it all — the narrowed, suspicious eyes, the

ruby lips pressed tightly together, the clenched jaw.

“You knew I resigned. Surely you must have known I’d come back.”

Julia clutched her laptop to her chest. “Why would I think that?”

Sylvain Reynard

His eyes widened. For a moment, he was too stunned to speak.

“Did you think that I wouldn’t come back, even after I’d resigned?”

“That’s what a person tends to think when her lover flees the city without so much as a phone call. And sends her an impersonal email saying that it’s over.”

Gabriel’s expression hardened. “Sarcasm does not become you,

Julianne.”

“Lying does not become you, Professor.” Her eyes flashed.

He took a step toward her, then stopped. “So we’re back to that,

are we? Julianne and the Professor?”

“According to what you told the hearing officers, we never got past it. You’re the professor, I’m the student. You seduced and dumped

me. The hearing officers didn’t tell me if you said that you enjoyed it.”

He swore under his breath. “I sent you messages. You simply

chose not to believe them.”

“What messages? The telephone cal s you never made? The letters

you never wrote? Apart from that email, I’ve heard nothing from you since you called me Héloise. Absolutely nothing.

“And what about the messages I left you? Maybe you deleted them

without bothering to listen — just like you left without bothering to tell me. Do you know how humiliating that was? That the man who

was supposed to love me fled the city in order to break up with me?”

Gabriel pressed a hand to his forehead, as if to help his mind focus.

“What about the letter from Abelard to Héloise and the photograph

of our orchard? I put the book in your mailbox myself.”

“I didn’t know the textbook was from you. I only looked at it a

few minutes ago.”

“But I told you to read Abelard’s letter! I told you myself,” he

sputtered, a horrified expression on his face.

Julia clutched her laptop more tightly. “No, you said read my sixth letter. I did. You told me to choose a sweater because the weather had turned cold.” She eyed him furiously. “You were right.”

“I called you Héloise. Wasn’t it obvious?”

“It was crushingly obvious,” she snapped. “Héloise was seduced

and abandoned by her professor. Your message was crystal clear!”

“But the textbook…” he began. He searched her eyes. “The

photograph.”

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“I found it tonight when I was unpacking my books.” Her ex-

pression softened. “Before this, I thought you were telling me that you’d tired of me.”

“Forgive me,” he managed. His words were woefully inadequate,

but they came from the heart. “I…Julianne, I need to expl — ”

“We should go inside,” she interrupted, peering up at the windows

of her apartment.

He reached out to take her hand but thought better of it, letting

his arm drop to his side.

The thunder and lightning continued as they climbed the stairs.

By the time they entered the studio apartment, the lights had flickered and gone out.

“I wonder if it’s just this building,” Julia mused. “Or if it’s the whole street.”

Gabriel murmured his response, watching impotently as she felt

her way across the room. She pulled back the blinds to let in as much light as possible. Mount Auburn Street was dark.

“We could go somewhere with electricity.” His voice sounded at

her elbow, and she jumped.

“Sorry.” He placed a hand on her arm.

“I’d rather stay here.”

Gabriel resisted the urge to insist, realizing that he was in no position to demand that Julia do anything. He looked around the room.

“Do you have a flashlight or some candles?”

“Both, I think.” She found a flashlight and handed Gabriel a towel while she retreated to the bathroom to change into dry clothes. By the time she’d returned, he was seated on the futon, surrounded by a half-dozen tea lights, which were spread artfully on the furniture and across the floor.

Julia watched the shadows flicker on the wall behind him. Un-

earthly shapes seemed to hover around him, as if he were trapped in Dante’s Inferno. The lines on his forehead had deepened, it seemed, and his eyes appeared larger. He hadn’t shaved recently, the scruff of his beard covering the planes of his face. He’d smoothed his damp

hair back with his fingers, but a single curl had rebelled, clinging stubbornly to his forehead.

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Julia had forgotten how attractive he was. How, with just a glance or a word he could make her blood heat. He was as dangerous as

he was beautiful.

Gabriel reached out to pull her to sit next to him, but she curled into the opposite corner.

“I found a corkscrew and a bottle of wine. I hope you don’t mind.”

He handed her a glass that was half-full of an inexpensive Shiraz. She was surprised he’d bothered, for it was the kind of wine he would

have disdained in the past.

She took several long sips, savoring the wine on her tongue. She

waited for him to cough, sputter, and complain about the appalling bathwater. But he didn’t. In fact, he didn’t drink at all. Instead, he stared at her, his eyes coming to rest unapologetically on the swell of her breasts.

“Are you changing schools?” His voice sounded husky.

“What?”

He gestured to her sweatshirt.

She looked down. Boston College.

“No, Paul gave this to me. He went there for his master’s,

remember?”

Gabriel stiffened. “I gave you a sweatshirt once,” he observed,

more to himself than to her.

Julia took another long sip of wine, wishing there was more of it.

He watched her drink, his eyes resting on her mouth and throat.

“Do you still have my Harvard sweatshirt?”

“Let’s talk about something else.”

He shifted uncomfortably but couldn’t drag his gaze away from

her. He longed to run his hands up and down her body and press

their mouths together. “What do you think about Boston University?”

She looked over at him warily. In response to her suspicion, the

bravado seemed to leak out of his gaze and he chewed at the edge

of his mouth.

“Katherine Picton told me to introduce myself to the Dante spe-

cialist in the Department of Romance Studies. But I haven’t gotten around to it. I’ve been busy.”

“Then I need to thank her.”

“Why?”

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He hesitated.

“I’m the new Dante specialist at Boston University.”

He searched her eyes for a reaction. But there wasn’t one. She sat very still, the candlelight flickering over her fine features.

He chuckled mirthlessly, pouring more wine into her glass. “That

isn’t the response I was hoping for.”

She muttered her annoyance, tasting the wine again. “So

you’re — here to stay?”

“That depends.” He looked at her sweatshirt significantly.

The heat of his gaze seemed to scorch her. She resisted the urge

to hide her breasts from him, keeping her arms at her sides.

“I’m a full professor now. Romance Studies doesn’t have a gradu-

ate program in Italian. The university wanted to be able to attract graduate students in Dante studies, so they cross-appointed me with Religion. They have a graduate program.”

He gazed at the shadows that surrounded them, shaking his head.

“Surprising, isn’t it? That a man who spent his life running from God should become a professor of Religion.”

“I’ve seen stranger things.”

“Yes,” Gabriel whispered, “I think you have. I would have resigned from Toronto sooner, but it would have caused a scandal. Once you’d graduated, I was free to accept the job here.”

Julia turned away, and Gabriel noticed the nakedness of her ear