The Way to a Man's Heart

  No. As difficult as it seemed, it was better for them both if he stepped out of her life before either of them was badly hurt.

  His feelings now, however, with the lonely weekend facing him, were far less admirable. He might be doing the noble thing, but he didn’t feel nearly as good about it.

  It was hard to release a ray of sunshine. In fact, it was far more difficult than he ever imagined it would be. Meghan O’Day was someone very sweet and very special who had drifted in and out of his life, leaving him forever marked by their all-too-brief encounter.

  A cold sensation of regret lapped over him. First, he would phone Meghan and cancel their date for Saturday, and then he’d contact Pamela Riverside. Stiff and exceedingly formal, Pamela was far more compatible with him. If nothing more, they understood each other. And if he wasn’t the least bit attracted to her, well, there were other things in life that made up for passion and excitement.

  Feeling slightly guilty to be using Pamela to forget one sweet Irish miss with eyes as blue as turquoise jewels, Grey reached for the phone.

  ***

  Meghan was busy folding clothes when her telephone pealed. Humming softly, she walked around the corner and lifted the receiver off the hook.

  “Yo,” she greeted cheerfully, easily falling into the greetings her brothers used so often. Meghan was in a marvelous mood. Life was going so well lately. She’d missed seeing Grey on Wednesday and had felt bad about that, but by the time she’d left The Hub, she was shocked by how late it was. There hadn’t even been time to run over and say hello.

  “Meghan.”

  “Grey,” she whispered on the end of a happy sigh. “It’s so good to hear from you. There’s so much to tell you I don’t know where to start,” she said, with a rush of excitement. “First of all, I’m sorry about the other day. I met someone while registering and we ended up having coffee with a couple of others, and the time slipped away without my even realizing it.”

  “I’m phoning about Saturday night,” he announced brusquely.

  “Oh Grey, I’m really pleased you asked me to attend this cocktail party with you. Nervous, too, if you want the truth. You never did say how formal it was.”

  “Meghan,” he said tightly, “something’s come up, and I’m afraid I’m going to have to cancel Saturday night.”

  “Oh.” Meghan knew she’d been chattering, and immediately shut up.

  “I apologize if this has caused you any inconvenience.”

  Grey sounded so formal that Meghan wasn’t sure how to respond. “It’s no problem. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Good.”

  A short, awkward silence followed, and Meghan decided the best thing to do was to ignore Grey’s bad mood. “Oh, before I forget, Mom wanted me to ask you to dinner again next Sunday. Dad’s eager to play chess again, and the boys suggested you wear jeans so they won’t have to worry about you ruining your suit pants.”

  “Meghan—”

  “Grey, just wear what you’re most comfortable in, and don’t worry about my brothers.”

  “I won’t be able to make it,” he stated flatly. “Please extend my regrets to your family.”

  “All right,” she replied, wishing she knew what was wrong.

  “I see that it’s about time for you to leave for work,” he said next, clearly wanting to end the conversation.

  Meghan’s gaze bounced to the face of her watch. “I’ve got a few minutes yet. Grey, is something the matter? You don’t sound anything like yourself.”

  “I’m perfectly fine.”

  “It’s not your health that concerns me but your attitude.”

  “Yes, well,” he said gruffly, “I’ve been doing a good deal of thinking over the last few days. It seems to me that since you’re going to be attending Friends that it wouldn’t do for us to continue to date each other.”

  An argument immediately came to her, but she quickly swallowed it. It was clear from the tone of his voice that his mind was made up and that nothing she could say would change it. The disappointment was enough to make her want to cry.

  “I understand.” She didn’t, but that wasn’t what Grey wanted to hear. He was giving her the brush-off and trying to do it in the most tactful way possible.

  “We’ll still see each other every now and again,” he continued in the same unemotional tone, as though it didn’t matter to him one way or the other. “In fact, it’ll be unavoidable, since both your classes are in the same building as the ones I’m teaching.”

  Meghan wondered how he knew that. She hadn’t even told him which classes she’d registered for. It was apparent he’d done a bit of detective work and had sought out the information himself.

  “Yes, I suppose that it will be inevitable, won’t it?”

  “You’re going to do very well at Friends, Meghan. If you have any problems, I want you to feel free to contact me. I’ll be happy to do whatever I can to help.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Good-bye, Meghan.”

  The words had a final ring to them that echoed over the wire like shouts against a canyon wall.

  “Good-bye, Grey,” she whispered. By the time she hung up, her stomach felt as if a concrete block had settled there.

  Seven

  Meghan’s arms were loaded with books when she stepped into the ivy-covered brick faculty building. The directory in the entrance listed Grey’s office as being on the third floor.

  With doubts pounding against her breast like a demolition ball, she stepped into the elevator. The ride up seemed to stretch into eternity. It had been two weeks since Meghan had last talked to Grey, and her mind stumbled and tripped over what she planned to say. She didn’t know if she was doing the right thing in approaching him like this, but she found the persistent silence between them intolerable. Men had come briefly into her life in the past, but none had mattered more to her than Grey. She found accepting his rejection of her both painful and nerve-racking.

  “May I help you?” a middle-aged woman who sat behind the computer asked when Meghan entered the series of offices. Apparently, several professors shared the same assistant.

  “Yes, please,” Meghan answered, smiling broadly. “I’m here to see Professor Carlyle.”

  Frowning, the gray-haired woman leaned forward and leafed through the appointment book. “Is he expecting you?”

  “No. If he’s busy I could come back when it’s more convenient.”

  The woman gave Meghan a sharp look. “Professor Carlyle is always busy,” she intoned. “Tell me your name and I’ll ask if he’ll see you.”

  By this time Meghan was convinced she was making a terrible mistake. She seemed to be shaking from the inside out. Dropping in on Grey like this, with such a flimsy excuse, would only complicate an already complex relationship.

  “My dear girl, I don’t have all day. Your name.”

  “Meghan O’Day,” she answered crisply, then hurried to add, “Listen, I think perhaps it would be better if I came back another time—”

  Before she could say anything more, the receptionist had pushed down the intercom switch and announced to Grey that Meghan was outside his office. Almost immediately afterward, a door opened and Grey stood not more than ten feet from her.

  “Meghan.”

  His gaze revealed a wealth of emotion: surprise, delight, regret, doubt. Not knowing which one to respond to first, she forced a smile and said, “I hope I’m not interrupting anything important.” She should be more concerned about making a fool of herself, she decided, but it was too late to do anything else now but proceed full steam ahead. She pasted a smile on her face and met his look, praying he wouldn’t read the tumult boiling just beneath the surface.

  “You’re not interrupting anything. Come in, please.” He stepped aside in order to admit her to his office. Meghan walked into the compact room and sat in a leather chair that was angled toward the huge mahogany desk. Grey’s office was almost exactly the way she’d pictured it would be—meticulous in eve
ry detail. Certificates and honors lined one wall, and bookcases the other two. Behind his desk was a huge picture window that gave an unobstructed view of the campus below.

  She noticed that shelf upon shelf of literary works were crammed together on the bookcases so that there wasn’t a single inch of space available. In other circumstances, Meghan would have loved to examine his personal library.

  “I should have called for an appointment first,” she said, avoiding eye contact with him, “but I decided to stop by on the spur of the moment on my way back from the bookstore.” She glanced down at the load of textbooks in her arms.

  By this time, Grey was seated in the swivel chair behind his desk.

  “I’ll admit this is a surprise. It’s been what, now—two weeks since we last talked?”

  Two weeks, three days, and four hours, Meghan tallied mentally. “It’s been a little longer than two weeks, I guess,” she responded, hoping she didn’t look half as nervous as she felt. Her stomach was in complete turmoil. She tightened her arms around the load of books, holding them against her breast as though she expected Grey to hurl something at her, which was completely ridiculous.

  Now that she was here, she was convinced she’d made a drastic mistake.

  Grey looked at her, waiting.

  “It’s been really cold lately, hasn’t it? I feel we’re going to be in for a harsh winter.”

  “Yes, it has been.”

  His look told her he had better things to do than discuss the weather. “I was on the campus to pick up my textbooks,” she tried again.

  He nodded, reminding her that she’d already told him that.

  “How have you been, Meghan?”

  “Good. Really good.” Her response was eager, and she scooted to the edge of her seat. “And you?”

  “Fine, just fine.”

  Not knowing how else to proceed, she said, “I thought I’d take two classes this first time, since it’s been so many years since I was in school … I guess I already told you that, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, I believe you mentioned that before.” A heavy silence followed, until Grey asked, “How’s your family?”

  “They’re fine. Mom’s busy preparing for Thanksgiving.” Her grip tightened all the more around the books until the insides of her arms ached from the unnecessary pressure.

  A pulsating stillness followed. They’d exhausted the small talk and there was nothing left for Meghan to do but state the reason for her visit, which at best would sound terribly feeble.

  “I’ve been going to a reading group the last couple of Fridays here on campus,” she began, forcing some enthusiasm into her voice. “I was thinking that you might like to join us sometime.”

  “I appreciate the fact you thought of me, but no,” he said crisply.

  She hadn’t really expected him to accept her invitation, but she hadn’t anticipated that his answer would be quite so abrupt. He hadn’t even taken time to give the suggestion any thought. “I know you’d like the others,” she felt obliged to add. “They share your views on a lot of subjects; they’re thoughtful and intelligent and not nearly as opinionated as me.” That was only a half-truth, but she was getting desperate.

  “I don’t have the time for it,” he added starkly.

  “I know you don’t … I should have realized that.” She stood suddenly, with her heart pounding so fast and furiously she was certain her ribs would soon crack.

  “Meghan?”

  “It was wrong to have come here. I’m sorry, Grey.” As quickly as she could propel her legs, she hurried out of his office. If this were happening in a movie instead of real life, the elevator would have been open and ready to usher her away from the embarrassing scene. Naturally, it wasn’t, and she didn’t have the time or patience to stand still for it.

  “Meghan, wait!”

  She couldn’t. She should never have come to him like this. If making a fool of herself wasn’t enough, she felt like crying—which added to her humiliation. If he saw her tears it would be that much worse.

  Somehow she made it to the stairway, yanking open the door as hard as she could and vaulting down the stairs, taking two at a time until she feared she would stumble if she didn’t slow down. Grey called her one last time, but she was forever grateful that he didn’t try to follow her.

  ***

  “The party at table twenty-two is waiting for his check,” Sherry said, as she brushed past Meghan that night at Rose’s Diner.

  “I’ve got it right here,” Meghan replied, thanking her friend with a grin. She didn’t know where her mind was tonight, but she’d felt sluggish and out of sorts all evening. On second thought, she did know where her mind was, but thinking about Grey was nonproductive and painful. She paused and checked through the slips in her apron pocket and took the coffeepot with her as she delivered the tab to table twenty-two.

  “Are you sure I can’t talk you into a piece of pie?” she asked the elderly gentleman who was waiting there. “Rose’s pecan is the special of the month.”

  “No thanks,” he said, patting his extended belly. “Rose’s cooking has already filled me to the gills.” He chuckled at his own joke and reached for his check.

  Meghan went around the room refilling coffee cups when Sherry strolled past her a second time. “Don’t look now, but trouble with a capital T just strolled in.”

  “Who?”

  “Your professor friend,” Sherry whispered, giving her a look that suggested Meghan had been working too many hours lately.

  “Oh great,” Meghan groaned. She didn’t want to face Grey—not after their disastrous confrontation earlier in the day.

  “He requested your section, too.”

  “Sherry,” Meghan pleaded, gripping her coworker’s forearm, “wait on him for me. Please, I can’t. I just can’t.”

  “Yes, you can!”

  “I thought you were my friend.”

  “I am,” she said, looking Meghan straight in the eye. “That’s why, as assistant manager, I’m going to insist that you wait on your own customer. Someday you’ll thank me for this.”

  “There’ll be air-conditioning in hell before I do,” she told her friend, her teeth clenched.

  Sherry giggled, and Meghan reached for a water glass and a menu to deliver to Grey’s table. Once more, she noted, he sat in the booth by the window. A book lay open on the tabletop, and he was intently reading, which meant he wasn’t paying any attention to her. That was just as well.

  As unobtrusively as possible, Meghan set down the water glass and menu and walked away. From out of the corner of her eye, she watched as Grey briefly picked up the plastic-coated menu and scanned its offerings. Either he made up his mind quickly or he wasn’t particularly hungry, because he set it aside no more than a second or two after reading it over.

  His novel didn’t seem to be holding his attention, either, because he closed it and pushed it away. His brow was pleated, his look brooding.

  Meghan gave him an additional three minutes before she approached his table, her tablet in her hand. “Are you ready to order?”

  “Why did you run out of my office today?”

  “The special is excellent this evening,” she announced, ignoring his question. “Liver and onions—which I’m sure is one of your personal favorites.”

  “Meghan, please.” He removed his horn-rimmed glasses, tucked them inside his jacket pocket, and stared up at her.

  Her eyelids drifted closed as embarrassment burned through her. “Pecan pie is the special of the month.”

  “I don’t care about the pie,” he said forcefully, causing several patrons to glance in his direction. Grey smiled apologetically and added softly, “But I care about you.”

  Her eyes shot open. In his office, she’d felt inane and foolish, but now she was furious. “You care about me?” she echoed with disbelief.

  “It’s true.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh please, spare me. You broke our date two weeks ago and I haven’t heard fro
m you since. Believe me, Professor Carlyle, I got your message—loud and clear.”

  “I—”

  “You gave me a polite, educated brush-off in what I’m sure you felt was the kindest way possible. I can’t say that I blame you. After all, you’re a college professor and I’m nothing more than a waitress with a love for the classics. You’re educated and brilliant. I’m simply not good enough for the likes of you.”

  Anger flared into his eyes, sparking them a bright blue. “You couldn’t be more wrong.”

  Meghan doubted that, and sucked in a steadying breath before continuing in a sarcastic tone. “Hey, don’t worry about it. I’m a big girl,” she returned flippantly. “I can accept the fact you don’t want to see me again.”

  “Then why were you at my office this afternoon?”

  Meghan’s mouth made troutlike movements as her mind staggered to come up with a plausible explanation. “Yes … well … that was a tactical error on my part.” Then she remembered she’d had an excuse for being there—all right, not a very good one, but a reason. “I honestly thought you might enjoy joining the reading group,” she claimed righteously, holding her head high.

  Grey’s gaze scanned the diner. “I can see that an explanation is going to be far more complicated than I thought. How much longer before you’re off work?”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to inform him he could wait all night and it wouldn’t do any good because she had no intention of talking to him—ever. But that would have been a lie. As much as she longed to salvage her pride by suggesting he take a flying leap into the Arkansas River, Meghan wanted desperately to talk to him. She’d been utterly miserable for the past two weeks, missing Grey more than she’d thought it was possible to yearn for anyone she’d known so briefly. It was as if all the expectation had gone out of her life, and with it, all the fun and excitement.

  “Another half hour. Would you like a piece of pecan pie while you wait?”

  “Do you have custard pie?”