Chapter One
Just when Sara thought her day couldn't get any worse, her scarf caught on fire.
Her classroom erupted into pandemonium. The air filled with the smell of singed cashmere as Sara struggled to untangle the scarf from her neck. Erin, the eighteen year old pyrokinetic who had tried to light a candle and missed, let out a startled shriek and frantically waved her hands in the air. In response, the fire tickling the end of Sara's scarf engulfed three more inches of beautiful hand-knitted cable-stitch.
"Someone blow it out!"
"Air will make it burn faster, dumbass!"
The warning came too late. The lighter items on Sara's desk went flying as Nate, the class's lone elementalist, sent a miniature whirlwind swirling toward her.
Dodging an entire stack of homework cost her valuable time, time during which the fire crept dangerously close to her hair. God, not the hair—
"Erin, where's the emergency bucket?"
"What?"
"The water!"
Sara ignored the shouts and stayed calm enough to get her poor scarf unwrapped from around her neck. She dropped it to the floor just as Brandon shouted in triumph.
All five gallons of water from the bucket in the corner spiraled into the air and cascaded over her head, drenching her, her clothes, and her desk.
Silence fell. Someone in the back of the room snickered and was quickly shushed. Sara glanced at Brandon and found the telekinetic grinning at her. “Did you see my control?"
Did you see the scarf already on the damn floor? But Brandon was so proud of himself, which she supposed he had every right to be. The trick with the water had been a fine bit of control for a telekinetic. She forced a smile before bending over to pick up the charred remains of what had been her very favorite scarf.
When she stood, the wet, stinking yarn clutched in one hand, she found out that her day could, indeed, get worse. Much worse. Her fingers tightened around her scarf as she stared at the new arrival. Reed Mercier, her rival for top spot in the graduate department and all around golden boy.
Even worse, she'd bet good money she wasn't the only one staring. Reed was the sort of man women loved to stare at.
All the women might be staring at Reed, but he was looking at her. Soaked to the skin, standing in my shambles of a classroom, holding a burnt scarf. Perfect. She'd bet none of his students lit his clothing on fire, tore up his desk with whirlwinds, or upended buckets of water over his head.
None of his students do anything but stare at him, she thought bitterly. It wasn't quite the truth; she'd sat in on enough of Reed's classes to know he was a good teacher. But he did have a tendency to attract a lot of young women who took his classes “for the elective credit."
Silence stretched out between them, finally broken by nervous laughter from one of the girls in the front of the classroom. “Hey, Mr. Mercier. Erin's been setting things on fire again."
He leaned one shoulder against the door frame and grinned at Sara as he watched water drip from her soaked clothing to the floor. “Who put it out?"
Brandon didn't give her a chance to answer. “I did! And you should have seen it, not even a splash, I held all the water together until it ... uhh...” He made a vague gesture toward Sara, and she gritted her teeth with the effort it took not to snap at him.
Reed just turned his smile to Brandon and nodded. “Good job. I'm sure Ms. Patel appreciates it.” When he glanced back, his eyes focused on her chest for a moment before returning to her face.
Sara glanced down at her shirt. Her very wet, very clinging shirt through which her bra was now very visible. And not just her bra ... It was cold in the room.
Heat flooded her cheeks as she jerked her head back up and turned to look at her class. The girls might be staring at Reed, but the boys ... Oh, they were staring at her. Most of them didn't even bother to look guilty about it.
She crossed her arms over her chest and attempted to adopt a professorial attitude. “Who's going to stay and help clean up?"
Reed shoved away from the doorway and strolled toward her, his movements slow and graceful. “No need for volunteers. I'll do it."
Four girls’ hands shot up.
Sara fought the urge to groan. “Okay, out. Everyone out. If you all clear out in under thirty seconds, no homework tonight."
Reed flattened himself back against the wall as the students almost trampled him in their haste to leave. When the last stragglers rushed out, he grinned at her again. “So ... Should I hit the janitor's closet?"
She shivered and tightened her arms across her chest, having no intention of moving them while he was in the room. “I can take care of it. I don't have any more classes today."
"Nah. I said I'd help.” He walked around her to a table by the window and snatched up a roll of paper towels. “Here, this should get us started."
It was ungracious to refuse his help, but Reed made her feel awkward and disheveled at the best of times, and this was not the best of times. “It's okay. Reed, really. Did you need something?” Or do you just have a sixth sense for when I look like a fool?
"Dr. Kendrick wants to see us.” He knelt and tore off long strips of the paper towels to soak up the water. “I think it's about the Montera assignment."
Sara glanced down again, taking in her soaked clothing and transparent shirt. “Right now?” This day really can't get worse...
"Four. Didn't you get the email?"
"No, I haven't had a chance to check today.” Her car had broken down that morning, leaving her scrambling for a cab with barely enough time to make it to her classroom. And if I'd had any sense, I would have called in sick and stayed home.
Reed just nodded. “Think he's sadistic enough to break the bad news to one of us with the winner in the room?"
That thought was unpleasant enough to make her snap. “Dr. Kendrick is not sadistic."
He snorted. “Guess that means we're splitting dessert, then, sweetheart."
Sara ducked down behind her desk and started to gather up the soppy homework. “Well, they're certainly not going to double the grant. If we did both go, we'd have to split the money and probably write the paper together."
He shrugged one shoulder and ran his hand through his dark blond hair. Every strand fell perfectly back into place. “You're the one who said he wouldn't be sadistic enough to call us both in to award one of us. It's the only thing that makes sense."
He was right, damn it. Which meant she'd be spending Halloween night trapped in a haunted house with Reed. Half the girls in the department would kill for that chance, and she bet none of them would be thinking about work once they got there. Except for me. And I'll be competing with a f**king medium for the best ghost research. He's going to wipe the floor with me.
She threw the last few papers on top of her stack and checked her watch. She had a half hour to find something presentable to wear and get back to the departmental offices for the meeting. “Shit."
Reed seemed to have come to the same conclusion. “Want me to swing by his office and see if Susanne can push the meeting back a little?"
Susanne would probably do anything Reed asked of her. Campus rumor linked the Dean's blonde, gorgeous assistant to Reed's bed at least once a month. The thought made her grimace as she shook her head. “No, that's fine. I'll be there."
"Okay.” He scooped up the sodden towels and tossed them in the wastebasket beside her desk. “See you then, I guess."
He'd been so helpful that she forced herself to smile. “Thank you, Reed. I appreciate the help."
He stared at her for a moment, then flashed her a cheeky, irreverent grin. “You're welcome, Professor Patel."
* * * *
Sara rolled up the enormous sleeves of her newly purchased Mystic Ridge University sweatshirt and shoved the door to the departmental office open with her hip. The selection of clothing in the campus bookstore had been depressingly scarce, but she hadn't had time to get back to her apartment.
Which means I'm attending the most important meeting of my career in a sweatshirt that goes to my knees and cheap track-pants that could come unsnapped at any moment. She'd had to change in the women's restroom, and had barely gotten a chance to finger-comb her hair and wrestle it into a sloppy looking braid. She looked absurd.
Reed, of course, looked perfect. He glanced up when she hurried into the room and smiled. “No time to go home, huh?"
"No.” Her cheeks heated a little, and she glanced at her watch and then at the dean's office door. “Is he running late?"
"Conference call.” His gaze roamed over her. “You look nice."
She couldn't tell if he felt bad for her or was trying to make a snide remark. Reed had never seemed the type to stoop to pettiness ... But competition can do crazy things to everyone.
Settling for a noncommittal noise, she sank into the chair next to him. “So. How are your classes going?"
"Not bad. My lectures are all full this semester."
"Oh yeah? That's good.” And par for the f**king course. She wasn't exactly hard on the eyes, but she doubted boys were signing up for her lectures just to stare at her. Though they would be if I ended up with a wet shirt more often.
"Yeah.” He stretched his legs out in front of him and grinned. “Keeping busy. What about you? Aside from the unfortunate demise of your scarf, that is."
Her cheeks heated again and she fought the urge to fidget. “Oh, you know. My practical classes are always exciting. That's the first time they've set me on fire, but we have that bucket in there for a reason."
Reed laughed. “You're a brave woman, Sara."
Before she could come up with a suitable reply, the door next to them popped open. Dr. Kendrick stuck his head out and smiled. “Good, you're here. Come on in.” They stared at him for a moment, unsure of which one he meant, and he waved his hand impatiently. “Both of you. Come in."